Friday, July 15, 2005

Willy Wonka shuts his factory down

As if sugar wasn't already the scourge of the government's proprietorship of the collective everyone-else, the overworked apparatchiki of human rights tribunals must now try to quantify the precise number of micrograms of self-consciously perceived victimization that turns an acceptable amount of private citizenry business into an overdose of officially mandated bruised public feelings. From the Montreal Gazette:

A candy being marketed with a caricature of a black man is an example of subtle racism in Quebec, says a black youth group that wants the product pulled off the shelves.

[…] Black groups have filed a complaint with the Quebec Human Rights Commission, claiming the image contravenes Article 11 of the Quebec Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms.

The charter reads: "No one may distribute, publish or publicly exhibit a notice, symbol or sign involving discrimination, or authorize anyone to do so."
It's lucky for Willy Wonka that he practiced his business long before the heyday of human rights tribunals, what with exploiting exotic races of pygmies for labour and making them sing demeaning silly songs, running contests without "no purchase necessary" contingencies, and purposely addicting children to ruinous sweets. He'd have been hauled up with no mercy before the overlords of gratuitous sensitivity faster than you could say "so shines a good deed in a weary world," slapped with a big fine, forced to contribute to Oompa Loompa awareness campaigns, and advised to provide equal opportunity to Canada Food Guide nutritious fare.

2 comments:

Pietr said...

Happened here years ago.
Ever hear of Robertsons Marmalade?
They used to give away 'Gollywogs' cutouts on the label,and when you had enough you sent them in to get enamel Gollywogs and so on.
I believe they still do,but they are now known as 'Gollys'.

Mike said...

Every time I would go into the variety store as a kid, I'd be ashamed and embarrassed by the barbaric, one-dimensional stereotype depictions of my people on packets of Lik'm'Aid. The capitalist system only put one variety store in my neighbourhood, so that was where I had to go whether I liked it or not -- and they put the Lik'm'Aid front and centre. One time they even left an empty display box there when all the Lik'm'Aid was gone -- draw your own conclusions.

I would hand the clerk my money for a bottle of pop -- as he made change it would feel like everyone in the store was staring at me, full of candy wrapper bigotry, wanting to say "Hey, don't you belong on a Lik'm'Aid package?" or "Where's your sugar stick?"

I would take the change after what felt like an eternity, and rush for the door almost in tears. I blame my later problems with heroin, check kiting, and assaulting police on the stereotypes perpetuated by Lik'm'Aid.