I think the idea here was to emphasize the potential stigma by momentarily appropriating the harsh language of the stigmatizers. Don’t worry, my wife never gets it either. 
Back in 1903, the owner of Chicago’s Iroquois Theater didn’t like the idea of someone with balcony tickets sneaking down to try to find an empty seat in the more expensive sections. So he had metal gates installed on the stairways that were kept locked during the show.
This was a major reason for one of the great tragedies in US history.
Also, many of the fire exits on the ground floor were unmarked and hidden behind velvet draperies.
Isn’t that a bit of a stretch? Has learning cooking been impaired by your experience of maths too? Or am I just reading this paragraph wrong? 
Does anyone know how to write a capital “Z” in cursive? It is the strangest looking thing. I was called to the front of the class and write one on the board. I wrote…something. And the teacher said to the whole class, “this is NOT how you write a capital “Z” in cursive”. Another small humiliation, added to scores and scores of others, has made me what I am today. If I ever have to write a capital Z now, it looks like “Z”. Take that, Mrs. Primary Educator…I won’t get into the instruction of math or lack of, but since they were unable to competently teach me any math, it was obviously because I was “stupid” about numbers.
The whole idea of teaching cursive should be outdated.
I doubt I remember how to write anything in cursive other than my own name.
I still remember the separate movie theater entrances for blacks and whites. Blacks sat in their own section, had their own concession stand etc.
That wouldn’t go over well these days.
I was born in 1940 and the only mainstream movie with nudity that I can recall was Tarzan and His Mate. I’ve seen it a few times over the years and all I can say is that Johnny Weismuller was one lucky guy.
Nope, I was told with rancor that i would not need to go to retard class.
The 60s were not very concerned with political correctness. This is the same decade I was punished for being lefthanded until I was forced to try and write with my right, and then penalized for shitty handwriting.
Why yes, i do not voluntarily do math at all. I will get a calculator to do simple math. You want me to do that thing where you give me random fractions and make them do things you also better give me the answer page. When I was a machinist I was anally careful to use calculators and my handbook to make absolutely anything I was drafting or setting up was absolutely correct if the blueprint was not provided to me, or one I had worked with previously. If I have to adjust a recipe, I tend to run it through a cooking program instead of doing the math myself in my head. I count on mu fingers and do chisenbop if it starts to get complicated.
When cooking professionally, at least corporately there are firm recipes that are followed, or the chef has developed recipes, so you rarely get to just throw something together. I am a good intuitive cook because I know what goes together and what proportions work. When it comes to baking I use recipes, and weight the ingredients very carefully. Most professional chefs are not Booby Phlegm, throwing stuff randomly together and trying to be the next Iron Chef. Besides, he steals his souschefs recipes and doesnt credit them for it.
As I have mentioned before on these boards, in my high school they had boys swimming in the nude for swim class - this went on until the late 80’s or early 90’s.
Parents would take their kids to a local bar and let them play cards or pinball machine or watch television or whatever in back of the bar while the parents drank up front. This was more often the case at bars at local VFW’s or American Legion halls, etc.
Gay men were arrested because they were queer, and it didn’t make a difference if you were at home or at a bar.
Bars and restaurants could exclude blacks if they felt like it.
I can remember people smoking pot everywhere, openly, in the late 60’s and early 70’s and even into the 80’s…in 1981 I recall sitting in the smoking section of a movie theater on Time’s Square in NYC for the film Raiders Of The Lost Ark and a guy went up and down the aisle selling “loose joints” and people (myself included) snapping one up as he walked by. That might be my favorite “ah, the good old days” moment.
Not anywhere that I remember, and I graduated HS in the '70’s.