As this is written, Black Lives Matter continues its reign of terror on every aspect of American culture.  Like the good little Marxist comrades they are, BLM, and their fellow travelers, the loony Leftists, the ignorant adolescents, the sniveling politicians, and the petrified, pandering proprietors of the business world, are submitting to the ravings of the mob.  The corporate managers have been so cowed by the mob, that they’re rushing to confess their guilt, even though they weren’t accused.  “Here, let us give you millions of dollars.”  For what?  Did they run out of bricks?  “And don’t just take our money, we confess to selling racist products, and we will atone.”  I’ll bet you didn’t know that products could be racist.  It turns out they can be.  Aunt Jemima was the first to go.  As far as I know, there was no BLM decree denouncing Aunt Jemima, but Quaker Oats knew it was just a matter of time, so they fired her, and pledged to change their racist product.  Now, Aunt Jemima has changed over the years.  Her first depiction was a bit too much Hattie McDaniel, but today’s Aunt Jemima looks a lot more like Viola Davis.

No matter.  She’s gone.  Uncle Ben’s Rice was not far behind.  The Mars Company, which owns the Uncle Ben brand, announced it would remove the likeness of an African-American man from its product, so as not to perpetuate a racial stereotype.  Forgive me, but I don’t get it.  Uncle Ben just looks like a dignified African-American gentleman to me.  He’s got a bow tie.  Could be a Muslim.

It doesn’t matter.  Goodbye Uncle Ben.  Maybe Mars can make a deal with Bubba Wallace.  Uncle Bubba’s  Converted Rice.  Well, maybe not “converted.”  Sounds too religious.  And the Mars Company better watch out.  They make M&M’s, and in all the M&M’s commercials, the yellow M&M, and not the brown M&M, does all the talking.  What message does that send, huh?  Anyhow, the hits just kept coming.  The Cream of Wheat guy was the next to go.

He was just a chef who happened to be black, but the brand’s owner, Conagra, saw the communist handwriting on the wall, so 86 the Cream of Wheat chef.  Then, not content with only one mea culpa, Conagra also gave the heave-ho to another commercial icon, Mrs. Butterworth.

Now, I never knew this, and I bet you didn’t either, but it seems that Mrs. Butterworth depicts a woman of color, and that the shape of the bottle “perpetuates the Mamie culture.”  Shocking!  Conagra apparently knew all the time, but they weren’t motivated to confess till the revolutionaries started torching buildings.  How noble.  Once again, forgive me, but I never thought that a syrup bottle had a race.  Lots of Mrs. Butterworth commercials are available online.  When Mrs. B spoke, she didn’t sound like Butterfly McQueen.  But no more Mrs. Butterworth.  Maybe it will be Mrs. B, or better yet Cardi B.   Maybe we’re on to something.  Just update it.  Mrs.  Kardashian’s Original Syrup.  Then they can raise the price.  It’ll take a lot of syrup to fill that ass. Maybe different names for different sizes. “We’re expecting a big crowd, give me a Mrs. Lizzo’s Original.”  Then again, what’s this “Mrs.” business?  Isn’t that insensitive to the LGBTQ crowd?  It must be gender neutral.  Butter is bad for you, and there’s no butter in it anyway.  So how about Mrs., Mr., Ms., Miss, X’s Original Butterless Green, Organic, Sustainable, Non-GMO, Gluten Free Syrup.  That really rolls off the tongue.  And the craven food mavens are just getting started.

   That’s right.  Both Chiquita Banana and Eskimo Pies are history.  It seems Chiquita’s depiction, patterned after 40’s film star Carmen Miranda, is offensive to banana pickers, because Chiquita looks good, and they work under grueling conditions.  This is a typical progressive solution.  Don’t improve the working conditions of the pickers, make Chiquita ashamed of her success.  Bravo.  Eskimo Pies, it seems, insults indigenous peoples from the arctic regions of North America.  They don’t even depict the trademark anymore.

No matter.  Just the name “Eskimo” is bad enough, so Mush!  No more Eskimo Pies.  I certainly don’t want to miss out on the destruction and defamation of every symbol and enjoyment from our past, so I scoured the markets to identify other “troublesome” products.  Mr. Clean clearly insults the folically challenged.  Then there’s Lorelei’s Surf Wax

A hula girl?  Really?  That’s got to be racist or at least sexist.  Sunmaid’s California Raisins.  

I think not.   American Tourister luggage?

Gorilla?  Out!

Crows candy?

Don’t even think about it.

Borden’s Elsie the Cow.

Cows, milk, lactation, women, the La Leche League, aha!  Anti-Hispanic.  Out!

Hungry Man dinners are sexist.  Friendly’s Watermelon Roll?  That’s just a racist dog whistle.  Fruity Pebbles?  Guess why they’re out?  Keebler’s Club Crackers?  It’s probably a restricted club, and Keebler demeans little people.  What about Peeps?   “Where are my Peeps?”  No,  that’s just cultural appropriation.  Quaker Oatmeal?   Too white and too religious.  It’s got to go.  Cocoa Puffs’ mascot, Sonny the Cuckoo Bird, insults the mentally ill community.  The Morton Salt girl should be updated.

   How about –      

Much better.   Not all black spokesmen have to go.  The Kia Motors spokesman, Morpheus, played by Lawrence Fishburne presumably is still acceptable.

Such is life in America in the 21st Century.  The mania has even infected the real estate market.  Realtors will no longer call the large bedroom, “the Master Bedroom.”  It’s too Gone With The Wind.  I shit you not.  From now on it’s “the owner’s suite.”  But just one second.  That’s no good either.  NBA players support Black Lives Matter, and the NBA doesn’t allow the people who own teams to be called “owners.”  They’re now “governors” by NBA decree.  So it will have to be, “the governor’s suite.”  That was a close one.   They’ve canceled The Paw Patrol because one of the dogs was a cop.

  It’s just a matter of time till they come for McGruff, The Crime Dog.  He’s just the plain clothes Paw Patrol.  Totally unacceptable.

If all of you find all this as big a crock of bullshit as I do, then let me share with you the wisdom of President Harry S. Truman, who noted of the opposition, “Of course, whatever you do, some son-of-a-bitch won’t like it.”  And that’s the point.  You’ll never please everybody, and you shouldn’t have to try.  The next time some son-of-a-bitch demands that we cancel our culture, let’s take a page from Nancy Reagan, and just say “No.”