Racism in Children's Shows

My entire life I've been considered the unknown race. People take one look at me and I can see that questioning look in their eyes trying to figure out what hybrid breed I was. My Mom is native to American Samoa and my dad was white. So what does it matter? It shouldn't right? I mean the same person made us all. We all just look different. No matter how much we try to ignore the racist issues....it rises...and you won't believe where it can be found either. I would like to discuss the racist shows that have been infiltrating our airwaves as far back as 15 years ago. What racist shows am I speaking of?

First, we have Power Rangers. Now come on, how can we not see this one? The black ranger was black. The white ranger was white, the pink ranger was pink, the yellow ranger was yellow, the blue ranger had blue eyes, the green ranger, green eyes, and still to this day I feel that red ranger was a native American, but I dont have enough evidence to prove that yet. Yes this was racist, but the real racism comes in when it was time to fight. Why did the black ranger dance every time he had lines? Can black people only hold conversations with you while doing body rolls and pop locking?

Then we have Captain Planet.. Ok everyones "powers" made sense except one. Let me refresh your memory. The Chinese girl had "water". Thats understandable because for the most part China is a water based economy. Cool. The Russian girl had "Wind". Makes sense. Russia is known for blizzards and windy cold conditions. Cool. The South American boy had "Heart". Now it was obvious that Matee was gay, so "heart" fits. And he needed to have compassion and be able to pass it to others in order to save the rainforests. Now this is where it gets racist. The little Red head All-American boy with the mullett gets the most powerful of all powers. "FIRE". Then to add insult to injury, they give the African "DIRT"!!! You can call it "EARTH", which is what they were calling it on the show, but you can't trick me! It was soil. I know that Kwame was African and we know that culture and civilization was begun in Africa, but since we are known for being close to EARTH, why do they give the little African with the "box" dirt as a power? And besides, who has ever seen an African with a "box"?

And finally the most racist of them all, DORA the EXPLORER!!!! I know, I know, some of you with kids are wondering where the racism in this is, and more importantly, why am I watching it. Let me explain. You have a little Hispanic girl teaching kids things about Hispanic culture and some of the language. You are thinking that this is ingenious right? WRONG!!! RACIST!!!!! Who is Doras best friend? A MONKEY named BOOTS. A hyper monkey in boots I might add. That is nothing more than a a hoodrat minority in some Timberlands!!! "Boots" the monkey is dumb and is depending on a woman to support him. He doesnt have a job, he doesnt go to school. He lives with his woman. Plus every hood in the nation has some hyper crackhead running and jumping down the street with some rubber rain boots from Wal-Mart. Sound familiar? Then the villain on the show is a thieving fox named "Swiper". Swiper has a bandit mask on making him look like a thief. This is nothing more than a clever ploy to make Swiper a raccoon. Then on top of that he steals for a living. When they catch Swiper they always say the same phrase, "Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping. Swiper no swiping." This is implying that black people are hard headed. You have to tell people of color things more than one time for them listen. Or that after they get that "third strike" they are going to be locked up and one less ignorant minority on the street. Furthermore what gave his race away, for me at least, are his mannerisms. What other race besides black people suck their teeth when something doesnt go their way? What is Swipers response when he gets caught? "Skktttttt, awwww man!!! And snaps his fingers. RACIST I tell ya!!!! Just racist!!!!!

Disabled Vs. Handicap

Gays don't like being called fags or dikes, they prefer, "homosexual". Fat people prefer to be called "plus size". Ugly people prefer to be called "good personality-ed". Midgets prefer "little people". And handicapped people prefer "disabled". Handicapped and disabled are two totally different things in my opinion. Disabled people have disabilities and still live their life. They are not looking for any handouts, nor are they wanting anyone to feel sorry for them. They are cool people. So cool, in fact, that at times you forget they are in that wheelchair, or use those crutches. You can crack jokes on them and they will crack back. All in all they are fun to be around. Handicapped people have disabilities that they use as handicaps. They want that handout, they feel that everything should be discounted for them. They want those close parking spots, they want the world to see their ailment and feel sorry for them. Well I don't, and refuse to feel sorry for any of them. In fact I strongly dislike them. Not the disabled folks, just the handicapped ones.

Why do they get the close parking spots? They're are already in a chair with wheels. It's not like they're going to get tired while rolling to the front doors of the store. The chair is motorized. As a matter of fact when is the last time you saw a person in a wheel chair that manually turned the wheels? If they weren't homeless or on a basketball team, my guess is, it's been a while. So, not only do they get the close parking spots, they're lazy. Why do they even have those parking spots in other places? Like the skating rink. That's dumb!!! When people go to the skating rink, they go so they can roll around, and feel the difference between regular walking and rolling. Well, do handicapped people go to the skating rink so they can feel what it feels like to walk instead of roll? No! So what's the point. That's like a bird taking a plane to get somewhere. Another place I don't understand why there are so many "handicapped" parking spots is at amusement parks. These people come to the park with their own rides. I have yet to see someone pull themselves out of their chair to ride the "Texas Giant". ::Again let me remind you, I am not talking about disabled people, only talking about those hateful little handicapped folks.::
I am aware that all handicapped people don't use wheelchairs, and I am also aware that a major factor in what differentiates the disabled from the handicapped is the attitude. HANDICAPPED PEOPLE ARE MEAN!!!!! It's like they want to throw a guilt trip on you, because you can walk upright. It's not my fault. Why are you mad at me? Why are you so mad in the first place? It's not like your feet hurt from walking. It's not like you have to pay full price anywhere you go. And why do they get a discount in the first place? I can see some things being discounted, like seat cushions, or if you only have one leg, shoes should be about half off, but why do they get discounts on bus rides, or food, or movies? Fat people don't get a discount on diet foods. Handicapped people make me sick. They feel that everyone owes them something. I don't owe you anything. I will fight a handicap person. PERIOD. I really don’t like them!! There is nothing intimidating about a person with a limp, or a person sitting in a rolling chair. I mean you could just fight them on a hill and it would be effortless. So, with all that said, if you are a handicapped person reading this and you are offended or upset, then be my guest to get out of your chair or limp your self in my face and fight me.

All babies aren't cute

I have heard people say that there is no such thing as an "ugly baby"…………tssskkkk!!! Anyone that can say this with a straight face and mean it, has never been to my job on that bi-weekly holiday called "payday". It makes me mad to see these people bring their little Treasure Trolls to work and parade them around like they are actually adorable. You can't bring these little bald sweaty vampire bats up here during daylight hours. The thing that gets me though, is that no one will tell the parents the truth. They always want to hold the baby, and tell all these lies about how cute the kid is, and how many boys they are going to have to beat off with sticks. They fill these parents heads with false hope and set the kids up for failure. I on the other hand tell the truth about the kids. If they are ugly I say so. As always there is a method to my madness and this post is no different. The topic of ugly babies has a reason. Friday this chick brought her "child" to work and was taking "it" from person to person showing "it" off and got to me and asked "did I want to hold "it"?" I asked her "does "it" bite?" Now maybe I shouldn't have said it, but I did, and now people are saying that I am hateful. So what. Forget her and her ugly little creation. Now some of you are saying that I am wrong too, but you didn’t see the "child". He looked like a fully-grown ferret in the face. Are babies supposed to have shaving bumps? None that I have seen. The baby wasn't cute at all. You know the baby is ugly when you can only compliment it's clothes "Aww look, I didn't even know they made Jordan's that small" or comment on something else regarding the baby. "Look at how little his fingernails are." Some of you are about to send me an e-mail reminding me that I "shouldn't talk about other people's children being that I have yet to conceive rugrats myself", and I say to you, if by chance my kids look like albino sugargliders, I will simply leave them home. They would never see the public during daylight hours. Simple as that. What also kills me is these same people take their alleged "kids" to the photographer to get their pictures taken. No that, in and of itself is not the problem, I mean everyone wants to document their child's growth, that's cool. But what drives someone to get wallet sized pictures of their kids to pass out to people at work, or church, or even school. No one cares to have pictures of your kids. It's hood. It's bad taste. It's ghetto. The people that give pictures of their kids to other people that aren’t family are the same people that pin money to their shirts on their birthday. They're the same people that put batteries in the freezer thinking it recharges them for a little while. They're the same people that think if you open a portable CD player while the cd is playing, it scratches the disc. They're the same people that put old milk jugs full of water in their front yard saying that it "keeps the dogs out of their yard". They're the same people that think Epson Salt heals everything. They're the same people that…….well you get the point. Until I have time to give you more….

Spare the rod, spoil the child.

Today's generation is hopeless. They have the work ethic of Paris and Nicky Hilton. They need to be entertained at all times. (ie. family cars with TV's and XBOX's) They don't/ can't read. They don't/ can't cook. They don't exercise. The United States is by far the fattest nation in the world and the children of the current generation are the fattest in history. There is a very simple solution to ALL of these problems. Proverbs 13:24. For those of you that don't have a Bible handy, it states in the RIV, (Rachel International Version) "Beateth, your childeth's anus…eth…." (or something like that). The problems we deal with now on a daily basis are the direct result of the lack of discipline in the home. Today's youth have too many rights. There is a fine line between discipline and abuse. I personally believe that discipline is only abuse when there's a witness and a phone call. Granted there are people that nearly kill their children through neglect or starvation, and I am not talking about those people. Those people are sick. I am talking simple stuff, like when your child steals something from the grocery store, you should be able to punch them in the chest without having to look over your shoulder for CPS. Every productive citizen in history got their behinds beat. Everyone one of them. Dwight Eisenhower got his behind beat. Adolf Hitler didn't. Jackie Robinson got his behind beat. Kevin Federline didn't. Michael Jordan got his behind beat. George Dubya didn't. See a pattern here? When I was a kid I can remember getting my behind beat consistently. My mom would create weapons to beat us. She duck-taped a 2 by 4 to an orange extension cord and swung it over her head like a lasso. I of course ran and she Wonder Woman-ed me by my knee caps and dragged me 6 blocks back to the house. The bad part about it was the extension cord was still plugged in. (note: everything after the word "consistently" is a lie) My mom had one of those old school wooden tennis rackets with no hole in the middle, just solid wood. The handle was short and had a leather grip. Attached to the end was a string that was used to so she wouldn't drop the paddle while whipping us. (if one person was getting a whipping, we all were about to get one) The paddle hung from the back of her door and was the source of torment from my childhood to late highschool life. Not only did we get the beating of a life time, we were also placed in "time-out", and placed on punishment. One occurrence would result in a beating of monumental magnitude, 6 hours of community service (usually cleaning my siblings' rooms or other chores), and all of the technology removed from my room. This included but was not limited to TV, radio, lights, air, and pretty much anything that required electricity or batteries. I can remember one time she turned off the electricity to just my room. I had to use daylight. When the sun went down I had to go to sleep. She would take anything that I enjoyed. One punishment restricted me from going to church, another restricted me from drawing. DRAWING!!! She came in my room one night and found me in the my closet with a flash light drawing anything I could think of. Though these punishments sound extreme, they were necessary to teach me whatever lesson she wanted me to learn. And I thank her for that. I am a level headed good woman with ambition and goals, and it has everything to do with my mom disciplining me. So with that said, please leave your homes, or computer labs, or jobs, or where ever you may be reading this, right now and punch the first kid you see. Multiple punches are a plus. They probably deserve it. We have to whip (literally) this nation back into shape one child and one drop kick at a time.

Join my "RHaLK 2007 campaign". ROUND HOUSE a LITTLE KID 2007.

The Hand Family

The Hand family is exactly like any other family. They are close knit, and are held together by their mother, Palm. She is visibly aged with wrinkles and lines covering her face. She taught all of her children the importance of teamwork at a young age. The father, Arm supports his family, but rarely gets to see them due to the location of his job. Palm and Arm have quintuplets, and they call their flock of kids "the Fingers". On the surface, the Fingers seemed to genuinely dislike one another, but like any other family, when an altercation arose involving someone outside the family, they joined together to fight. Though the Fingers are quintuplets they are not identical. Their physical attributes as well as their personalities vary greatly. You see, Thumb is the optimist in the family and he always tells people what a great job they are doing, or he let's them know he approves of their actions. Though he is the short and rather stubby brother, he always finds the "good" in things. Then there is Pointer. Pointer never thinks anything is his fault. He always blames everyone around him, even when he knows it's his fault. He feels that no matter what he's "number 1". He is tall and slender, but not as tall as his brother Middle. Middle is the tallest of the five brothers and is rather mean. He only speaks when he is upset, and he ultimately succumbs to his anger, especially while driving. Middle is single "hand"edly the number one cause of most of the road rage in the nation. Not a fact that he is very proud of. Then there is the Other Middle Finger. The Other Middle Finger is the brother with low self-esteem. He is not as optimistic and supportive as Thumb. He doesn't feel as important as Pointer. He is tall, but not as tall as Middle. He tried to follow his brother Middle everywhere he went. If Middle wanted to stay in for the night, the Other Middle Finger would stay in as well. He would rather stay in the house bored, than to go out by himself. On some rare occasions, the Other Middle Finger would leave without Middle, but that would only be if their fifth brother, Pinky, was going. Pinky was stuck up, confusing his snobbish ways with class. He never wanted to be seen with his other brothers. When the other brothers would go out drinking, Pinky would never touch the wineglass or the bottle. That was beneath him. Pinky was also a ladies man that wore gaudy jewelry, and had this weird fetish about women kissing his jewelry. The Other Middle Finger never thought he had as much class as Pinky. Many times the Other Middle Finger contemplated suicide because he felt that he served no purpose in the family, after all, his parents weren't even creative enough to name him something original like his brothers. That is, of course until the Other Middle Finger fell in love. He found his soul mate, and now had a reason to live. He no longer needed his brothers for social acceptance. He found the woman that completed him. The Other Middle Finger, got married and decided to change his name. He was no longer in the shadow of his brother Middle. He had gained his own identity. He vowed to NEVER be called "the Other Middle Finger" again. And that is how the Ring Finger got his name.

Six-legged Terrorists

Flashback: The year is 1988. You are on the floor watching ThunderCats in your pajamas with the feet attached. You are lying on your stomach with your head resting on your hands, with your feet alternately kicking and crossing behind you. In front of you is a half eaten bowl of Cocoa Puffs that is now too soggy to be discernable. Your attention is solely on the television. An almost black, almond shaped, moving organism crawls across the burnt orange shag carpet and catches your peripheral. You look down, and a roach is crawling directly toward you. Fear moves you from your once stationary location to a full standing position, and though you realize you outweigh this insectuous (yes I made that word up) foe, he has effectively claimed his territory, punked you, and turns to crawl away.

Fast Forward to the present. When did these so-called "insects" gain the ability to fly? If the above scenario was to occur today, instead of turning to crawl away, the roach would now take flight towards the victim. This new form of intimidation has reached record highs. No one knows exactly what would happen if the roach ever met it's target, because the victims always escape the room, followed by high shrills and the type of cursing that ensues your mom walking barefoot through the kitchen after you spilled sugar on the floor and didn't completely clean the mess.

Have you ever been to someone's house that had roaches and had to act like you didn't see them? Your arm would be across the back of the couch and a roach would crawl down the wall and you had to discreetly slide your arm into your lap as to not embarrass your friend. What about that time you were all watching TV, and everyone was completely quiet watching a movie in the dark, and a small baby roach crawled across the screen? Didn't the air in the room get really thick because everyone wanted to act like it didn't really happen? (if you have never been to someone else's house that had roaches, then YOUR house was the one with roaches.) Or if someone was actually brave enough to call the host on their "insect problem" the response was always, "We've never had a roach problem here. You brought those with you."

Why do the 2000s versions of insects have such a vendetta? First the Fighter Pilot Roaches then the Suicide Bombers. I believe everyone more commonly refers to them as crickets. I was walking through the parking lot at work a few nights ago and there were 897987897456445 crickets hopping about. I tried my best to make the trek through the parking lot without stepping on any of these high jumpers. As I tiptoed from spot to spot the openings on the pavement were becoming scarce. I stepped on a cluster of crickets and heard five to six crunches. The other crickets heard this too and the once "almost" calm crickets began nose-diving into my bare legs. It felt as if a pitcher was throwing pennies at me. These little kamikazes actually hurt when they hit you. The cricket's cousins are really no better. The Photosynthesis Ninjas, I like to call them, or grasshoppers, don't like humans much either. They generally attack when you mow the yard. As you walk slowly behind the lawnmower and try your best to not pass out in the heat, these little grass dwellers lie dormant waiting on the most opportune time to strike. Once you move into range they leap from their spots, and cling to your shirt. No matter how many times you try to swat them away or off your shirt they never release their grip. You have to physically grab them and throw them back into the grass. I don't care how tough you think you are. When a grasshopper jumps on your shirt, you start flailing around like a new born baby in the deep end of a swimming pool. I think they are all six-legged Taliban soldiers sent here to destroy Americans but I have no proof of that, so I wouldn't go rush out and call CNN just yet if I were you. Freaking terrorists......