The other day, I heard someone use the word “kike” in public. I can’t remember when I last heard someone use the word in conversation. My grandfather would use it, along with WOP, Spic, Mic, Jew, Polack and other colorful euphemisms. That was just the way men of his generation spoke to one another. One of his old friends was Italian and he called him a “Guinea bastard” so often it may as well have been his given name. In turn, his buddies would call him a commie, a rook, a pinko, etc.
That was a long time ago. In our sensitive age, people are afraid to mention the race of a crime suspect, lest they get accused of blasphemy. The result is we get crime bulletins from the news that tell us the suspect is tall and bi-pedal. In fact, I’ve learned to take some pleasure in mentioning race in conversation, just to see the honkies flinch. Blacks and Hispanics never flinch, but honkies are so beaten down they come close to tears at the mere mention of race or ethnicity.
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