Diversity, political correctness, sensitivity. These are the watchwords of our generation, which becomes more lame every day.

If it weren’t for body piercing, there wouldn’t be anything of any interest going on in the ’90s.

I have been going to ISU off and on since the late-’80s. Those days weren’t dark; they were just sheer boredom punctuated with the fear of nuclear holocaust at the hands of a senile old man.

I never thought I would look back with nostalgia.

The first time I remember anything which I can now attribute to political correctness, I think it was the end of the ’70s, and our teachers told us we were supposed to say “dwarves” instead of “midgets” and “handicapped” instead of “crippled.”

Now, you can scoff, but I have always been pretty sensitive. I don’t believe you should ever refer to anyone by a name which they genuinely find offensive.

My personal pet peeve is the use of the term “Eskimos” when referring to the Inuit.

“Eskimo” is Athabascan for “blubber-eaters,” and the Inuit hate that because they are about SO much more than eating whale blubber it isn’t even funny.

That one really grates my cheese because I still have to say “Eskimo” or no one will know who I am talking about. So goes the war.

Being of primarily French-Canadian-Indian stock, I feel that I am entitled to a few things.

I can use the term “frogs” whenever I want when I am talking about the French and make no apologies to anyone.

And secondly, I don’t feel I should ever have to justify myself to the watchdogs of correct speech especially when they are really white Americans with great jobs who ask me if I have any concept of social history. What audacity.

Last week I had a run-in for a Quick E which made reference to the ’70s film “Shaft.”

I was accused by one person who felt I should have known better than to do this. So why did I?

Did I have some kind of agenda? No. Did I run it without honestly realizing the harm it could do? No.

I ran it because people like pop culture references. They like it when they get obscure reference to something that not everyone is immediately hip to.

They like to explain it to their friends and watch them go “Oh, I get it.” I recognized the line “who’s the black private dick who’s a sex machine with all the chicks?” I also recognized the classic call of the regular Quick E contributor looking for a response.

I don’t bring this up because I was suddenly deluged with mail, phone calls and e-mails. There was no great outcry.

There was one person who made it a personal mission to call everyone in the phone book (and possibly my mother) trying to turn this into something it wasn’t.

And for what? To teach me a lesson about political correctness.

I have had my fill of rhetoric. As liberal as I am, I am tempted to go over to the dark side of right wing politics if only to escape being lectured to forever like I’m 5.

If there is one thing that being on campus will do for people, it is eventually make them cease to care altogether.

Apathy is the rule for a reason; you cannot keep shoving opinions down people’s throats and acting hurt when they choke on them.

If I WERE a racist, I certainly wouldn’t submit to PC mind control without a court order.

And as someone who has done his bit for the left, I flatly refuse to be made an example of by a professor who is undoubtedly more privileged than I will ever be.

I wish I could say I have never encountered such offenses in the past, but I have.

I have also been on the other side.

When I was in ninth grade, I had this big, German football coach. He thought he was pretty tough stuff. After the season ended I remember him cornering me in the locker room and giving me one the hardest times I ever got.

This guy called me a “greaser,” and it was several years before I even realized this guy was too stupid to be a good bigot since the term “greaser” is usually reserved for Mexicans.

I often find myself thinking about that instance. I know what racism — overt and subtle — can do.

But I flatly refuse to roll over and play the whipped dog because somebody thinks that a song which was used out of context in a Burger King commercial, an episode of the X-Files and countless times throughout my recollection is somehow more dangerous and hurtful when used out of context as a Quick E.

I don’t run the really obnoxious stuff I get, and I erase the vulgar, the racist and the vicious ones almost as fast as I erase the stupid ones.

But I do run Quick Es that may be considered tasteless to some if they have some merit.

I believe we cannot bow and scrape before the lowest common denominator every day of our lives just to avoid offending the ignorant.

Are we supposed to never say or do anything because someone who doesn’t “get it” right away might be offended?

Is everything supposed to be toned down to a third grade level as well as having the PC stamp of approval on it?

I hope not. Or, to paraphrase Shaft: I’ll get to feeling like a machine, and that’s no way to feel.

---

Greg Jerrett is graduate student in English from Council Bluffs. He is opinion editor of the Daily. Can you dig it?