Dear Mrs. Vera,
I’ve got a puzzler for you from the most northern, whitest and most frigid state of the union! It is regarding the kindest, gentlest way to handle awkward social situations that arise when old people embarrass themselves unintentionally by cluelessly referring to people they hold in contempt with candid racist slurs that both affirm their own feeling of superiority while dehumanizing the humans that made their Daddy’s business so profitable in a frozen hellhole. In Alaska, we have many old people like this, just like in real, thawed America, and at least one of them here still works for the government. House Representative Don Young, who, with no harm in his heart, gave a shout out to wetbacks everywhere for all the good times they shared when he was young and watched them work, and probably tacos too. He apologized as soon as people told him he had said something wrong. As a manners expert, Mrs. Vera, don’t you think that’s enough, to apologize for something you believe without actually changing your position? Why do Libtards throw such raggy fits whenever Aunt Hysteria comes for her (usually monthly) visit? They hardly ever seem to feel the need to apologize for calling other people garbage, unless it is to acknowledge the hurt feelings of the wounded patriots who hate wetbacks (among others) in the first place, when everyone knows these patriots are the best kind of person ever created anywhere in the universe. How do they live with their hypocrisy of accepting those that despise both them and all their concerns for others that are not white, old Americans?
Jesus T. “Moose” Rodriguez
proud, snow-blinded as a toddler, second generation, White Patriot
Dear Chester Roderick,
I get a lot of letters from Alaskan porn stars regarding how best to report the weather, how best to run for Governor, how best to quit being Governor, snowmobile maintenance, and how to hide the bodies… And all of my advice regarding Alaskan Sociopatholitical manners feature fully frontal and center my belief in the genuine power that an apology can have in keeping away angered citizenry. Scientific studies have shown that an apology is at least– if not more effective at preventing the breakdown of civil discourse than owning a moat, a lynching of thems that ain’t looky-likey enough for us arounds abouts here, or the sound of a shotgun being loaded and pointed at the uppity. I think your crown of thorn-infested antlers (the one on your head, not the specialty “downstairs moneymaker” you use to ply your trade with) could use a dunk or two under the iceberg (which at a minimum would give you a damp back) for making sweeping assumptions without really looking into any facts about anything. Every single person on the planet accuses me of this all the time, unfairly, of course, but then you are all wetbacks as far as I’m concerned because water doesn’t exist in the dimension I hail from. But I, however, have taken the time and have the imagination required to get the facts I want for whatever I make up. Sorry to be so hard on a loyal reader, but when it comes to questions regarding the hypocrisy of unthinking public servants, I see red. It has always been a real bee in my bonnet (or was until we ran out of bees, anyway), or perhaps an extremely hard-to-get-at grub in an overturned log is the more apt idiom for idiots. And while doing my… “research,” I’ve encountered your work, so I know you can handle all sorts of tough love.
Here are my facts about this incident:
1. Don Young is not a character from Mad Men, but does prefer to go commando whenever shoplifting ham.
2. Don Young is a legitimately elected politician returned to office by his peers for 40 years, whose family did use wetbacks for work they didn’t care to perform themselves.
3. No records of what they paid these undocumented workers exists, so we cannot determine if it was equal to the legal requirements of whatever wages and benefits actual Americans would be due, if they could find any willing to do that work.
4. His Daddy’s farm’s entire labor force was composed of itinerant Walrus, Harbor Seals and leaping Narwhales.
5. The main crops were Land Seaweed, Ice Carrots, Tomato Tree Nuts and Lady Salmonellas.
6. Sarah Palin can see his house from hers, which qualifies them both for political office on the Federal level, which they despise but grudgingly live off of, or kinda, sorta try to, or anyway gays and wetbacks anyway, with the abortions and whatnot.
7. It is snowing there.
8. Alaska is one of the few states that can wag its tail when you show it a tasty treat.
9. The place is lousy with flaky glacier dandruff, Frost Giant eczema drifts and rotted underground dinosaur goo.
10. Its citizenry are terrible at picking up salacious Inuitendo and smarmy double enchiladatendres and smelly bear turds.
So, in the grander “e-scheme-o’” things, no, I don’t think simply apologizing for saying racially insensitive crap, like a teary elected crocodile, just because you got caught in the act while assuming everyone listening to you is on the same page, or because you are super old and clueless, is sufficient. Saying the word, “sorry,” is better than saying nothing, but doesn’t mean anything unless one does something to prevent the offense from recurring. This is why I am in favor of passing AB 232, which requires politicians to issue public Alpologies in addition to the formal apology, the televised consumption of a bowl of dog food whenever they demonstrate preferential territorialism for selected members of their constituencies/packs and disloyalty to the rest. This “Mea Gulpa” is more than mere lip service, and if passed will mean a fortune for producers of Republican Kibble for Seniors. On the downside, expect the number of starving dogs being reported to increase sharply.
Mrs. Vera Newman is a San Francisco absurdist character, humorist, artist, writer, community organizer, clothes horse and co-founder, with Mister Tina, of The Verasphere. She has been answering the unasked questions she receives from the lonely, empty rooms of America’s heart-shaped circulatory pump room ever since it began beating. Nestled in the politically bent bowels of the Nation since she was a young girl babysitting the very same newborn Nation, her ability to self-reflect about anyone else’s embarrassing shortcomings, inept fumblings or lousy recipes has enabled her invisible rise as a modern-day Cassandra, whatever that means. Feel free to dispose of all your worries by leaving them on her doorstep!