The Long and Short of it…

I’m in turmoil here. I try to be sensitive and tolerant, but I’m also a dyed-in-the-wool smartass. Yesterday was decidedly un-PC, and I’m here to explain myself…

It started on the way to work. I needed a bus pass, and stopped at the TriMet office in Pioneer Square. As I exited, heading for the westbound MAX, lo and behold! A leprechaun!

Now, I’m a fully-grown man. Perhaps overly so. I don’t believe in leprechauns, even though I’m Irish, drink heavily upon occasion and have, um, hallucinated in the past. I’ve seen the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But I’m sober now, and calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.

I saw a hippy midget in a green outfit holding a bowl of candy.

Dude! My camera came out of pocket; I had to get a picture. Maybe he was giving away candy; those little chocolate coins popular at Christmas time? (I ate the gold part of the frankincense and myrrh at a Christmas pageant once. Who knew it was sacred?)

I approached, and asked, “Mind if I take a picture?”

The little guy’s eyes widened. He snarled and hissed, “Not a good time!”

Yikes! I lowered my camera, and as I tried to surreptitiously snap a picture, a whole bunch of leprechauns with shellaleighs swarmed from behind the pillars where the old men stand and play chess all day. I was askeered for my life!

Okay, I made that last paragraph up. A very nice lady came up to me and told me they were filming a commercial for the Oregon Lottery, and I could take a picture, if I wanted to wait a few minutes. I had to get to work, so I scurried off in a fog of embarrassment.

I walked into work, “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya! I just pissed off a leprechaun! I tried to take his picture and he snapped at me.”

A quick-witted co-worker asked, “Was he short with you?”

“A wee bit.”

“Remember the time we played Midget Music Class?”

It’s where you take the title of a pop song and replace the noun or subject with the word ‘midget.’ (i.e. Ain’t No Mountain High Enough becomes Ain’t No Midget High Enough, etc…) Beatles songs are great for this. The Long and Winding Midget, Happiness is a Warm Midget, While My Midget Gently Weeps…

My personal favorite? The White Stripes Seven Nation Army becomes Seven Midget Army.

We had to stop playing, for one thing it was just plain wrong. We really had to stop when a little person came in.

Which leads to my point: Should I be offended by this? Is the Oregon Lottery exploiting little people? Is it any better than dwarf-tossing or midget bowling? I’ve seen the Raffle spokesman all over the media the last few days, and I’m guessing that while he loves the paycheck, he’s tired of the attention. The last thing he needs is a touristy type making his workday a bit longer. My interruption probably cost the state $500. Sorry…

I’d seen midget wrestling back in the day. I have no issues with a person using his or her body or appearance to make money, unless it’s forced upon them. Tossed dwarves, for example. They are willing participants, aren’t they? It caused me to think about stereotypes. Would Fiddy Cent play the lead character in the life story of Stepin Fetchit? Or would he just shoot your ass for suggesting it? Are all little people short-tempered? They say fat people are supposed to be jolly. I’m trying to do my part.

I think we all need to be a little more thick-skinned *and* a little more sensitive. Not every smart remark and wisecrack are hateful bigotry. And not every person is fully culturally aware. Can we laugh at our uniquenesses without offending?

In my case, probably not. Too tall an order.

So I’ll save you the trouble of telling me, and go pick on someone my own size.

What’s Rush Limbaugh up to?