Patient’s have autonomy, and can decline treatment. He declined treatment by the physician. There is no other reason for him to be in the hospital. Bye.
I’m also an accent-free white male immigrant to Canada. I rarely hear anti-immigrant B.S., but when I do, I like to do the same thing, and get up in their faces about it.
You were whooshed.
That line was spoken by Michael Caine as Austin Powers’ father in Goldmember.
Not ALL taxi drivers in Dublin are vociferous racists but many are, and if you regularly take cabs you hear all sorts of bullshit from them. Conspiracy theories mixed with urban myths, mixed with plain old intolerance. They have you as a captive audience so spout all manner of manure. One cab driver complained to me about black people cycling through town at night, because he couldn’t see them :smack: .
Actually, I have read in the past that they have denser bones; < google > here’s a graph in fact. Now, the racist version of this goes on about how it’s because “they are more primitive”, how they have smaller brains due to thicker skulls and so on.
I am temporarily living with my sister, who is rather well off. Most of the people in this somewhat exclusive gated community are either well off or filthy rich; my sister has friends from both groups. They are mostly college graduates, well educated. well read, and well informed people, if people who rely on Fox News can be said to be well informed. They self identify as Republicans, if that is relevant, and they are, for the most part, the most vituperative, hypocritical, blatant racists I’ve ever known. Just to put that statement in context, I grew up in Texas back when segregation was the rule. Because I am temporarily (I hope and pray) desperately in need of a place to live, I keep my mouth shut but its difficult. In any event, it is an exercise in futility to argue with these people. Thay are, after all, successful in life and therefore must know more than I, even when they are proven wrong.
Wait, that’s not necessarily racist. I’ve bitched more than once about black people running around at night wearing dark clothes. Not because I’m racist, but *because I don’t want to accidentally plow through someone with my car. * I can’t tell you how many times I haven’t seen someone in the street until I was almost on top of them.
Wearing bright colors at night is a good safety rule for everyone, but white people are already at least somewhat a naturally bright color. Most of us are human reflectors at night. Black people, not so much.
That’s easy - “yes I would, and I’ll tell them you asked me that.” 
My parents used to spew racism all the time when I was growing up. Not that they’ve changed their ways or anything. My partner and I were having dinner with them this one time, and they were telling about how they had applied to work at a place run by a gentleman of Indian descent. Well something hadn’t worked out for them getting the job so my mother said something about “because he’s a-” and then motioned a circle around the top of her head. I just gave her a stern look and said “Hey!” to let them know that that shit doesn’t fly with me or my partner.
They used to toss around the N-word fairly often; if I ever hear either of them say it again I’m for sure gonna walk out.
Oh and then there was my ex whom, after we had stopped being together, I told I was interested in someone who happened to be Hispanic. My ex said, “no you don’t want to do that. They have big families and they’ll bring all of them over and they’ll steal.” I should have had the guts to kick her out of my apartment. Fortunately, we are no longer in contact of any sort.
An angel?
A dervish?
Years ago we were having lunch with my saintly silver haired great aunt, God rest her soul, who would never say an unkind word to anyone and was the sweetest lady you could ever meet. Casually she drops the N-bomb right out there like it didn’t mean a thing.
It’s probably just as well she never met my then-girlfriend, who, yes, happened to be black.
I’m another white boy immigrant to Canada, and occasionally I get to add my sarcastic two cents in on how those terrible immigrants are ruining the place, but you don’t get many of those conversations in Toronto. Everybody’s from somewhere else.
Ah. I shall unclench my sphincter.
.
Maybe a Tasmanian?
There’s several ways to define who’s Basque, let’s see if I don’t forget any…
- by whether you have been born in Euskal Herria (lit. “the land of the Basque,” covers parts of Spain and France, doesn’t exactly match up with provincial borders and includes the region called Euskadi)
- by whether you have Basque ancestors
- by whether you speak the language
- and some people (usually from out of the area) have the quaint idea that you can’t be Basque if you aren’t an independentist
It’s not true any more, partly due to the last immigration wave into Spain (Spain’s population has grown 20% in 10 years), partly to people sort’a losing the fear of ETA and reversing the migration from “out of Euskadi” back to “into Euskadi”, but negative Rh used to be uncommonly common in Euskal Herria. Some Basquists have tried to use that as a “litmus test” of Basque-ness.
In my last long contract, I was part of a team where everybody was from Euskal Herria. Idjit Boss, Mathgirl, No-Marriage Girl, The Boy, Silent Girl and I. One day we were at lunch; Silent Girl was off sick. At one point, Idjit Boss mentioned having discovered that Silent Girl and her had the same blood type (A-), when Silent Girl got typed in the ER. A bit of chitchat later, we’d all given ours: Mathgirl and No-Marriage Girl were A- as well, whereas The Boy and me were A+.
And Idjit Boss triumphantly proclaimed “HAH! So I’m more Basque than you two!”
Then No-Marriage Girl said “explain this carefully, cos I’m a bit slow… you’re a unionist who would like to eliminate Basque schooling and destroy the Basque language (1), and at the same time you’re a fucking racist? And you’re feeling proud of yourself for figuring out that you probably have more Basque blood than someone who doesn’t have any and someone whose mother is Catalan? I must be missing something important detail or something, because I just don’t get it.”
1: from previous conversations. I think arguing may be the only activity that’s more popular “back home” than betting, if only because in order to argue you don’t need anything to put where your mouth is.
So, the subject of Obama came up the other day when my Mom was hanging out with a group of acquaintances, and one of the ladies announced, ‘‘Of course I didn’t vote for him! He’s a n****r!’’
My Mom was nonplussed, and the lady, sensing my mother’s reaction, proceeded to publicly ridicule her for her silent disapproval.
She loudly announced, ‘‘Oh, I guess Olive Mom is going to have half-white and half-n****r babies!’’
My mother is aware that my husband and I, both white, plan to adopt, and have considered interracial adoption, so she replied very seriously, ‘‘You know, maybe I will have black grandchildren. My daughter hasn’t decided yet.’’
Shut her the hell up.
Seriously, I’ve made more than a few posts about the pervasiveness of racism in this country, but even I was shocked by this story. It’s one thing to be a racist and another thing entirely to marginalize the person who’s not racist.
I work in “the Patch” (Oilfield service hand), I wish I could count the folks that told me during the election “I ain’t voting for President N*r".
Even more bizarre than that is the number of racist, Wife-beating Christians I work with, folks that carry a Bible around with them off-tour but tell racist jokes and "keep the Bh in line” with a sharp backhand and the guys that will not even consider getting married anywhere but Alabama because the popular story is that there is no spousal-rape in Alabama “when she says I do, she does!”
Making a living can be truly odd sometimes.
Unclviny
Oh god. This reminds me of when ruadh came to visit me in Bulgaria. The cab driver from the airport asked me in his broken English, on the way to the hostel, where I was from (because I had originally spoken to him in Bulgarian; he only switched to English when he heard ruadh and me speaking). Rather jokingly - because I am obviously not Bulgarian - I told him “Pavel Banya”, which is my village in Bulgaria. He snorted and said, “No. Pavel Banya is gypsy town! You are not gypsy.”
I was SO HORRIFIED that ruadh was getting such a lovely introduction to Bulgarian racism within her first half hour of being in the country, and told her so when we got to the hostel. She told me it wasn’t a big deal, and proceeded to horrify me with stories of racist cab drivers in Dublin.
My mom once pulled something like this when talking to a friend of mine. She was describing the manager of the RV park where she winters in Texas:
“She’s Hispanic, but very nice – not scuzzy like how you usually think of Mexicans.”
I wasn’t part of the conversation, but only overheard it. Later my friend told me that she kept her composure as if Mom had said nothing untoward, and we shared a :eek: together. These days I probably would have called my mom on it; I’m doing that more now that my dad isn’t around anymore to influence her. Unfortunately it seems pretty well ingrained. 
I once worked with an older white guy like this, in an IT group that had lots of diverse people in the group – black Americans, black Jamaican, Chinese, Japanese, Indian, etc.
He was talking to the Japanese guy, and kept referring to ‘Chinks’ – not nice ones like you, the usual slant-eyed Chinks. Somebody corrected him on that – said he shouldn’t say ‘Chinks’. The Japanese guy, who had rather a sly sense of humor, agreed – that’s right, for my people you should say ‘nips’. Then as we all stood there shocked, the Thai woman said that you could also say ‘gooks’, if you were just generally talking about people from around there. At which the Indian guy* said no, no, gooks was only vietnamese people – but maybe ‘wogs’ was the appropriate generic term. The discussion went on for a while, with all of us basically making fun of the bigoted white guy, who never did seem to catch on to that.
- Oddly enough, one other time this same Indian guy was surprised that I asked about him and another Indian employee coming from the same city in India – he proceeded to tell me that even though they were from the same city, they were way different classes, and no one from his family would ever have known someone of that caste. He was astonished and appalled that I couldn’t see the obvious differences, which he spent some time expounding to me. Even then, I couldn’t understand most of it. Things like “they work with leather – dead animal skin. Just looking at their hands you can see that!” No, actually, I couldn’t see any significant difference in hand structure. Reminded me a lot of the claims that blacks have ‘denser bone structure’ or stronger leg muscles, which let them jump higher.