Political Correctness: Proving that Americans Have Too Much Time on Their Hands

While attending California State University, Northridge, many of the professors for my general education courses all stressed one thing in common. This commonality was political correctness. My professors would stress that we needed to write our papers in politically correct form in order to minimize offense in identifying groups of people. The goal of being politically correct is good, but how much is to much?

Trader Joe's Gingerbread PEOPLE?!?
My brother loves two kinds of pastries. He absolutely loves his pumpkin pie and he loves his gingerbread. Last week was finals week for him, and my mother wanted to surprise him with some gingerbread cookies. She bought some gingerbread cookies from Trader Joe's and placed them at his seat on the dining table. I looked at the packaging, and to my surprise, Trader Joe's no longer sells gingerbread men, but rather "gingerbread people".


What I want to know is who is the idiot that made a big freaking deal about if the package read "Four Gingerbread Men". Why would anyone want to waste part of their life in making sure that Trader Joe's products are 100% politically correct. This just seems like a waste of time to me. Gingerbread cookies I know did not make the complaint. It's a cookie for crying out loud. Why are people wasting time trying to make everything 100% politically correct. Cookies do not care about anyone grouping them.

Last time I checked, my gingerbread cookie, shaped as a person, didn't even have genitalia. Is it a man? Is it a woman? Who knows? Who Cares? Was it delicious? YES! It was absolutely delicious.

Being Politically Correct Leaves Room for Assumption
To an extent, it feels like making sure that the wording is 100% politically correct leaves room for assumption. People have told me that when they speak to me, I am very specific towards how I describe things. However, if my house was burning down, and a man came and put the fire out, isn't he a fireman? Yes, he is a firefighter, but more specifically, he is a fireman.

I see the reasoning on why political correctness is important, however, do we really need to get down in the nitty-gritty when we're dealing with cookies and food? Come on people, lets try to find something better to do with our time.

For the people who have to be politically correct 100% of the time, I've recreated the story of the Gingerbread Man.

Once upon a time, there were a little old woman and a little old man who lived in a little cottage near the river. The little old woman and the little old man were hungry, so the little old woman decided to bake a gingerbread person.

She made a big batch of gingerbread dough, then rolled it flat and cut it in the shape of a gingerbread person. She gave him raisins for eyes, a cinnamon drop for a mouth, and chocolate chips for buttons. Then she put the gingerbread person in the oven to bake.

When the gingerbread person was done, the little old woman opened the oven door, but before she could take him out, the gingerbread person jumped up and ran through the kitchen and out of the cottage shouting, "Don't eat me!"

The little old woman ran after the gingerbread person. "Stop," she yelled. But the gingerbread person ran even faster, chanting, "Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread person."

The gingerbread person ran into the garden and passed the little old man. "Stop," the little old man called out, "I want to eat you." But the gingerbread person ran even faster, chanting, "I've run away from a little old woman, and I can run away from you, I can. Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread person."

The little old man chased the gingerbread person, followed by the little old woman. But the gingerbread person ran too fast for them.

The gingerbread person ran through the yard and passed a pig. "Stop," the pig snorted, "I want to eat you." But the gingerbread person ran even faster, chanting, "I've run from a little old woman and a little old man, and I can run away from you, I can. Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread person."
The pig chased the gingerbread person , followed by the little old woman and the little old man . But the gingerbread person ran too fast for them.

The gingerbread person passed a cow by the barn. "Stop," the cow mooed, "I want to eat you." But the gingerbread person ran even faster, chanting, "I've run from a little old woman and a little old man and a pig, and I can run away from you, I can. Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread person."

The cow chased the gingerbread person, followed by the pig and the little old woman and the little old man. But the gingerbread person ran too fast for them.

The gingerbread person passed a horse in the field. "Stop," the horse neighed, "I want to eat you." But the gingerbread person ran even faster, chanting, "I've run from a little old woman and a little old man and a pig and a cow, and I can run away from you, I can. Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread person."

The horse chased the gingerbread person, followed by the cow, the pig, and the little old woman and the little old man. But the gingerbread person ran too fast for them.
Then the gingerbread person reached a wide river, but he didn't know how to swim. A sly and hungry fox saw the gingerbread person and said, "Jump on my tail, and I'll take you across the river!"

The gingerbread person thought to himself, "I'll be safe on his tail." So he jumped on the fox's tail and they started across the river.

Halfway across the river, the fox barked, "You're too heavy for my tail, jump on my back." So the gingerbread person jumped on the fox's back.

Soon, the fox said, “You're too heavy for my back, jump onto my nose." So the gingerbread person jumped on the fox's nose. But as soon as they reached the riverbank, the fox flipped the gingerbread person into the air, snapped his mouth shut, and ate the gingerbread person.

And that was the end of the gingerbread person.