Political Correctness Gone Mad
Freddy Woo writes: "I once worked on an animation to help highlight the issues homeless people face in winter. The client was happy with the work, then a note came back that the ethnic mix of the characters were wrong. These were cartoon characters. They weren't meant to be ethnically anything, but we were forced to make one of them brown, at the cost of about 10k to the charity. This is how your donations are spent. Wisely as you can see."
How has PC affected you? (Please add your own tales - not five-year-old news stories cut-and-pasted from other websites)
( , Thu 22 Nov 2007, 10:20)
Freddy Woo writes: "I once worked on an animation to help highlight the issues homeless people face in winter. The client was happy with the work, then a note came back that the ethnic mix of the characters were wrong. These were cartoon characters. They weren't meant to be ethnically anything, but we were forced to make one of them brown, at the cost of about 10k to the charity. This is how your donations are spent. Wisely as you can see."
How has PC affected you? (Please add your own tales - not five-year-old news stories cut-and-pasted from other websites)
( , Thu 22 Nov 2007, 10:20)
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The Older Generation
This is a story about my best mate's Grandfather, a kindly Dutch man who took us out for lunch one day. My mate and I were visiting him and his wife in Christchurch, Dorset, about ten years ago.
We met up and decided that a pub lunch was where it was at so ended up choosing a very nice, but packed, pub in the centre of town on the basis that it seemed to sell a good selection of real ales.
Anyway, it was about halfway through lunch and the pub was busy to a point where it was about 5 deep at the bar and the only empty space was a narrow walk-way around the backs of the punters at the bar and past the front door, where we entered, thus blocking the walk-way.
Just as we stepped into the pub (Grandad first) a buxom waitress (not exactly obese, but certainly not slim either) appeared from the kitchen behind the bar, carrying a large tray. She looked apprehensively at us, wondering how she was going to get through.
The Grandfather piped up in his thick Dutch accent: "Oh, come on my dear - you can get through there - you're not *THAT* big".
The poor girl went very red indeed and went back into the kitchen, whence she came.
The old boy was a really nice old chap, though, just a little non PC. And I like that ;-).
( , Wed 28 Nov 2007, 14:39, Reply)
This is a story about my best mate's Grandfather, a kindly Dutch man who took us out for lunch one day. My mate and I were visiting him and his wife in Christchurch, Dorset, about ten years ago.
We met up and decided that a pub lunch was where it was at so ended up choosing a very nice, but packed, pub in the centre of town on the basis that it seemed to sell a good selection of real ales.
Anyway, it was about halfway through lunch and the pub was busy to a point where it was about 5 deep at the bar and the only empty space was a narrow walk-way around the backs of the punters at the bar and past the front door, where we entered, thus blocking the walk-way.
Just as we stepped into the pub (Grandad first) a buxom waitress (not exactly obese, but certainly not slim either) appeared from the kitchen behind the bar, carrying a large tray. She looked apprehensively at us, wondering how she was going to get through.
The Grandfather piped up in his thick Dutch accent: "Oh, come on my dear - you can get through there - you're not *THAT* big".
The poor girl went very red indeed and went back into the kitchen, whence she came.
The old boy was a really nice old chap, though, just a little non PC. And I like that ;-).
( , Wed 28 Nov 2007, 14:39, Reply)
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