This past winter when we went to Chicago we played a game on our phones called Psych. There are different categories that you can play, but one is picture this, where you caption a photo that they show you. The object of the game is to come up with the most clever/funny caption so that everyone picks yours. Unfortunately, a number of the photos are of black people that open up the caption to highly offensive racist comments. On top of that, my kids go out of their way to be as shocking as they possibly can when we play this game. They don’t care about clever or funny, they care about being highly objectionable. (not sure where they get that from, I make sure my highly objectionable material is also funny and clever) In addition, if the photos don’t allow them to be racist they will throw in at least some homophobia. That being said, whenever my kids make the inappropriate caption, guess who gets the blame from Shirley? Not my kids, for some reason it is my fault our kids are racist homophobes, not the fact that we live in one of the whitest and Trumpiest school districts in the entire state. I am pretty sure that there is not a racist gene, nor is there a homophobic trait that can be genetically passed along. So I must say a lot of racist shit at home and make terrible comments about fags, right? I don’t, I have probably made three racist comments in front of my kids in the time I have known them, and they were really funny so it was ok.

This is obviously a teaching moment for Shirley, I’m not stepping up and condoning their behavior, but I am also not laughing at their captions, but mainly because they aren’t funny, not because they are inappropriate. The reality is that most stereotypes are rooted in truth and when factually accurate aren’t really racist. A number of years back I was at the MVP pool and there was a black kid getting ready to jump in at the deep end of the Crahen pool which is ten feet deep. I thought to myself “the lifeguards had better be on alert” sure enough, he sunk like a stone and one of the lifeguards had to drag him out of the pool. I based my knowledge of black people’s swimming ability to predict what was likely to happen. It is similar to coming up on an accident scene and seeing one driver who is a white male, and another driver who is an Asian women, no need for the investigating officer to even ask questions, give the Asian women the ticket for causing the accident. Not sure if I have mentioned this, but I listen to NBA radio on XM. I love the diversity, way more diverse than the NASCAR station (they actually have a NASCAR station). Somehow black people’s ability to swim was brought up due to a sideline interview of a player that referenced the beach. The black audience weighed in and agreed they typically don’t like the water and therefore aren’t great swimmers. (wonder if the Nascar station had a similar segment about Asian women’s driving ability?) It was conceded by the black audience that it wasn’t racist to assume a black person can’t swim. Similarly, it’s safe to say white men can’t dance. It’s not racist, it’s been proven through empirical data that white men can’t dance, obviously there are exceptions to every rule, some white guys can get really drunk and think they are good dancers even though they aren’t, but only Justin Timberlake and John Travolta break the rule.

Speaking of our trip to Chicago that allowed my kids to really express the bigotry burning inside of them, this weekend we are set for a return trip to the Windy City. Initially, Shirley indicated that she just wanted to go with the kids. I responded that that would be fine with me. However, I recalculated things in my head and decided that I should at least feign some disappointment in the fact that they wanted to exclude me. So, I circled back and acted like I was hurt by the fact that I was being left behind. Ultimately, it backfired and I was invited on the trip. Spending the weekend with Max and Murphy doing whatever I want, while not that much different from my typical weekend minus the guilt, would have been truly glorious. There is just something about having the house entirely to yourself and not having to worry about someone trying to make you feel guilty about your decisions. At least I will be there to regulate spending and say no, it’s a word the kids and Shirley never hear when it’s just the three of them.