Well it’s certainly been quite the week, y’all. While the SCOTUS finally realized that gay people are people too and their marriages won’t effect theirs one bit, we also had a superwoman of a Senator stand for 11 hours in front of a group of law making white men to uphold her rights and women of Texas’ rights to be in control of their bodies.
And then there’s Paula Deen, who is a stark reminder that not everyone in this country is looking forward and making progress – racism is alive and well. So in light of the Butter Queen’s recent admissions, particularly the fact that she planned a racist wedding, we thought, why not stop there Paula D? Here are some other ideas for racist weddings!
“Red Injun” Wedding
* The walk down the aisle will be re-named the “trail of tears.”
* Everyone gets an “Indian Name!” So fun.
* Plus, if you meet someone really cool at the wedding you will declare them your “spirit animal.”
* First dance? “Colors of the Wind.”
* It is an adults-only reception. All children will be swept away to boarding schools to be re-educated in the ways of the white man.
* All wait staff will be Native American. Guests are encouraged to share stories about how ”my great, great grandmother was 1/8 Cherokee Princess.”
* The dancing portion will be called a pow-wow.
* White hipster guests will be able to take the “authentic” native headdresses off of all of the waiters, so that they can wear them to outdoor music festivals.
*If you have the cash-money for celebrity entertainment: Johnny Depp as Tonto.
* Fry bread. Definitely fry bread. But with little butter pockets in there, becausebutter.
* Waiters will be told that they will be fairly compensated, but will actually be paid in Smallpox Blankets.
* The bride and groom will sign a contract with the wedding facility that stipulates that the party can go until 11pm. Then, when it’s time to leave, they’ll be like “okay, we DISCOVERED this reception hall so we’re just going to keep it.” And the owners will be like “nah, we were already here, I mean we kind of built the whole thing.” And the happy couple will be like “whatever, enjoy all your SMALLPOX.”
Exotic Asian Wedding
* All of the waitresses will be dressed as geishas. They will be small Asian women who are not necessarily of Japanese descent, because do you seriously think that Paula Deen’s racist wedding guests can tell? Paula Deen’s racist wedding guests probably barely know that there are different countries in Asia, they just think it’s an amorphous, spicy landmass called “The Orient.”
* Also all of these waitresses will be referred to as “Oriental.”
* Fortune cookies! Everyone will read theirs out loud then add “in bed” to the end of it. That’s not even racist, it’s just a fun party game.
* Male waiters or cooks will be white men doing racist Asian impressions a la Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
* Fried rice. Definitely fried rice. Wait. Can you deep-fry rice? Maybe that.
* When it comes time to pay, the hosts will encourage the Asian staff to figure out the tab because “you people are always so good at Math!”
Who knows, if Martha Stewart can get over her insider trading scandal and prison time, maybe P- Deen can too. Do you guys even remember the hoopla around Brad Paisley and LL Cool J’s Accidental Racist song? Yeah, the heat is off them too. But just in case you forgot…
Earlier this week, I heard that there was a song called Accidental Racist. And that this was a country song. And that there was a rap verse. AND that it was ridiculous. So, like any blogger, I thought “stop right there! I cannot hear any more about this until I’m ready to write about it.”
Here I am, several days later, with the song queued up and my laptop at the ready. I think that, like most kinds of virginity, Accidental Racist virginity is best lost with very little preparation and a live Internet audience.
In case you’re wondering, I totally ACED keyboarding class sophomore year of high school when I had room for an easy elective, so I don’t think I’ll have to pause the song to type very often. Here goes nothin’.
– Aww, come on, the one I was trying to load was removed by user! Probably because the user was ashamed, right? Or I guess copyright law issues.
– This shit isn’t even on Youtube. Everyone’s getting all fired up about something that’s not on Youtube? As far as I’m concerned, if something isn’t on Youtube, it isn’t even real. Okay, found it… in a back alley of the internet, more or less.
– Generic Country intro, wouldn’t be amiss in a Taylor Swift song. I think things will get bad fast.
– Starbucks reference 5 words in. Gotta be a record for a country song. Or like songs, generally.
– NO NO NO. Brad’s singing in a heart-warming tone about how he hopes the Starbucks guy (who is black??) knows that Brad wears “that t-shirt” because he likes Lynard Skynard. I am thinking he means a Confederate Flag t-shirt. Oh, Lordy. I actually did a whole project on displaying the Confederate flag and when/where it is/isn’t okay during law school. Like, doctoral level shit. But outside of the legal sense, I’m going to say that if you’re going to need to sing-apologize for your apparel to the Starbucks guy, maybe don’t wear it. I wish I could go back two years and make that my thesis.
– “I just asked if you wanted whip on your Frappuccino” – the Starbucks guy, probably.
– “I’m proud of where I’m from but not proud of what they’ve done.” You know who else feels like that? Most Germans, I bet. You know what they do about it? I don’t know, if memory serves they don’t wear swastika t-shirts then make baristas listen to them sing about it.
– That law school course was actually on the Reconstruction. You know who doesn’t seem to understand Reconstruction? Brad Paisley. But you know who is singing about it anyway? Brad fuckin’ Paisley. It actually had nothing to do with fixing buildings.
– “It ain’t like I can walk a mile in someone else’s skin.” Nine out of ten serial killers would disagree. Also, I liked that speech better when it was coming out of Atticus Finch.
– At this point the barista is probably wondering why Paisley didn’t just order a breve or something so he’d be gone by now.
– THE NICE GUY FROM NCIS IS RAPPING NOW, YOU GUYS.
– LL wants white men to understand what life is like when you’re “living in the hood.” I grew up next to drug dealers in a neighborhood called the “fatal crescent.” He probably pees into a toilet made of pure platinum and filled with Evian. Don’t even try that.
– Fuckin’ CONVERSATE? That’s actually the worst thing I’ve heard thus far. Like when people say “orientate.” Converse. Orient. Shut up.
– If you don’t judge my do-rag I won’t judge the red flag? I’m sorry, when the North invaded the South, were they waving Do Rags above their heads? Did they proudly fly the do rag when they enslaved Southern Whites? If the answer is no then this analogy is pretty poor.
– If you don’t judge my gold chains I’ll forget the iron chains? Ah, yes. Okay. We’ve reached a point where instead of “50 acres and a mule,” everyone’s just decided to settle for the ability to wear gold neckwear? I’m sure former slaves in the Jim Crow south would have found that a totally fair exchange. Surprised Lincoln didn’t write it into the Emancipation Proclamation. Or did he?
– The barista has probably just given up and sent Paisley to the nearest Dunkin by now. Wait. WAIT. Was Cool J supposed to be the barista? Was that him all along? Whoa. Mind games. That’s some Sixth Sense shit right there.
Post-song wrap-up: Okay, the message is fine, almost. Everybody stereotypes everyone else, and it’s not great. Also, none of us were alive 150 years ago, so a white Southern man today didn’t do anything to bring about slavery. Totally true. But the way this song makes it seem like the institutionalized racism that black men face is totally the same as a funny look from your barista when you wear a Skynard t-shirt? No. I get that the Confederate flag is totally different in the South and I just don’t understand it. But still, let me close with my favorite Confederate flag anecdote.
A kid in the suite across from me Sophomore year had a Confederate flag hanging in his window. He was from Virginia or something. Anyway, one day it went missing. He went crazy looking for it. I was talking about it with one of my friends, who led me into her room. The Confederate flag was there, ripped into pieces. “Were you drunk?” I asked. “Yeah,” she answered. “God. I just really hated that fucking flag.”