eskimos like to be called inuits. no one really knows that because eskimos aren't really mad enough about it to do anything...other than make you feel like a bigot if you call them one. as long as there are eskimo pies, you are eskimos. no one who is really mad about a racial slur allows it to be used in the name of a snacky treat. everyone can relate to a word inexplicably making you angry if for no other reason than being called it over and over. like when hawaiians call white folks 'howlie'. after a while, you're like "stop calling me howlie!". but if they had howlie pie, no one would be that mad. you have to have horrible atrocities attached to the slur to make it count. like slavery, or the holocaust. until then, zip it ice weirdos. that goes for you too, midgets. why would you want to be called 'little people'? that sounds so plain. howlie, cracker, eskimo, and midget are all on the same level of offensiveness. granted, the tossing was bad, but the seven dwarves and the wizard of oz made up for that. if you'd rather be called 'human ponies', i'm listening.

is it indian? or native american? indian sucks because columbus gave them that name after he thought he'd landed in the indies. landed in the wrong spot and still has the nerve to call them indians - what a jerk. "hi, i'm atzi. i'm an aztec." "yeah, sure thing, indian. why don't you be an ace and grab my suitcase." like someone who calls everyone 'guy'. learn a dude's name, could ya? but what is their name? not native americans. america was named after they were already here. that's like the gunderson family moving into your house. even though you fight for it, they have better weapons and cheat. give you blankets with small pocks and so forth. gentlemen-like. then, years later, they let you move back into a small corner in the back of your yard. "it's cool. it was originally their land. they're native gundersons." screw the gundersons. it's your yard. what was it called?

shame on you, the masses. boo. boo sincerely. shame on you for buying everything you're sold. thanks for the endless supply of talentless pop princesses and celebrity culture you've created. the books are being burned in the street, and you can't even smell the flames as you sit in front of your t.v. with wide smiles laughing at the death of art. but if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. so, i have a plan. we'll start a band. we'll play palatable, easy to swallow, inoffensive elevator rock. as soon as our song has been heard thousands of times on every clear channel station, we'll play our first concert. thousands of people will show up, and we'll blow out their eardrums, so they can never hear or say anything ever again...or we could inject poisonous gas into spray-tanning booths and copies of us weekly. i'm up for suggestions.