Paul Richardson: Some thoughts on political correctness

The term “politically correct” is somewhat confusing. It would seem by all outward appearances that “politically correct” would indicate a consistency, a non-altering adherence to one’s own political philosophy, moral code, and beliefs.

Not so, as it turns out I am not “politically correct”! In fact, for those who are reading this material and have never met me, the primary function of the good wife for the last thirty-eight years has been to keep me socially acceptable.

In the beginning it was much simpler and consisted of keeping me dressed in clean attire appropriate with our social group. Since I don’t have a functioning filter and like to be as surprised as everyone else when something comes out of my mouth, her task expanded into keeping me from saying whatever popped into my mind. 

The good wife’s task continued to expand, but the current day role has really taken on some new dimensions with the inclusion of “political correctness”.

It turns out that political correctness seems to have taken on a role of its own. Neither left or right, but in a lush meadow with no goalpost, no yard lines, no controls. A place where all can skip and sing, chasing butterflies and bunny rabbits. No one takes a stand, because that would get them exiled from the meadow. 

Yet, in all of this peace and harmony of the meadow, the roar of contention grows ever louder from those that are now standing in the bramble patch at the other end of the path to exile.

I am usually stumbling along somewhere on that path, either coming or going. It is good that I write because the lack of filter provides a cooling off time, followed by rewrites or editing by the good wife. 

There are many things that I can write about which will never be published. Never published as long and me and the good wife are alive. When we are gone, maybe, just maybe, someone will come along and decide that these are good life lessons on what not to do or how to behave. A title might read: In Sane Ramblings From Some Random Unknown.

As I spiral out of reason downward, upward, north or south and capture these rants in written word, no one in the meadow is disturbed by noise, edited weekly by the goodwife. I never spiral to the right or left as those make a huge circle around the globe and end up back in the meadow with the butterflies and bunny rabbits. A place where someone who is “politically correct” can re-adjust the compass that has been set awry by my spiral.

With all of this “political correctness” one might expect better behavior out of all of these politicians in the public eye. Sure, they are standing in the bramble patch, but those in meadow can hear them. Not only are the attacks partisan, but also are erupting between those of the same cloth. Maybe the meadow will hear me, when they publish my memoirs!

(Paul Richardson's column, The Horse I Rode In On, is published weekly in the Neosho Daily News, Seneca News-Dispatch, Aurora Advertiser and on the Turner Report.)