Memo To Texas: HERE WE GO AGAIN.
All right. Time to stop picking on poor Halle Berry, even though she's dumb and crazy and runs into things a lot with her car. It's time for a good old round of one of You Are Dumb Dot Net's favorite pastimes, KICK THE REDNECKS.
Since my plan to incorporate a sterility-inducing quantity of radium into the pressing process for the "Blue Collar Comics" DVD ended in dismal failure in no small part due to having thought of it after the stupid thing came out, I am forced, once again, to use this column as my sole vehicle for revenge against the mostly white, mostly southern, mostly male, mostly NASCAR-watching, mostly hootenannying hordes that embrace racism, stupidity, and pleistocine culture as their inalienable heritage. Plus, they keep giving Jeff Foxworthy money, and that's just fucking inexcusable.
Today, our ire returns to Texas, where the famed Yellow Rose is apparently made that way with an excess of chromium-laced paint, and where the natives then apparently gobble the roses down like White Castle sliders. Specifically, scenic Beaumont, Texas. Named after Hugh Beaumont, who played Ward "Lord Of All Repressed White Males" Cleaver, Beaumont is home to an astonishing array of beauty and culture.
Well, OK. They've got "Ford Park Entertainment Complex", which at first glance seems to be a pickups-instead-of-chocolate version of Hershey Park, but instead is just some form of low-rent arena where you can go hear Aaron Carter sing on August 14. They also have (and this is all going off the official Beaumont website, which is startlingly difficult to glean actual information from) a giant fire-hydrant-shaped building or silo painted like a cow; the Beaumont Drillers, which is either a sports team or a live sex show; the Texas Wildcatters, which is again either a sports team or a live sex show; and an active natural hazard mitigation plan of some sort.
Oh, and Jap Road. But if you want to see historic Jap Road, you'd better get down to Beaumont fast, because this piece of local history is about to be wiped off the map, literally, by a bunch of pinko commie P.C. liberals who don't understand how important Jap Road is.
Jap Road is a small country lane in Beaumont, allegedly taking its colorful name in honor of Yoshio Mayumi, who introduced rice farming to the region. No, really. It comes from a quaint time in Beaumont's past when you could honor someone simply by referring to their ancestry in a derogatory manner. This time is referred to by locals as "Last Tuesday".
But finally, after a ten-year fight, in a FOUR TO THREE DECISION, the local county commissioners decided they should change the name to something less offensive. Popular suggestions by locals include Yellowman Ave, Slanteye Lane, Pokemon Plaza, and We'llkickyourassifyoubuyatoyota Boulevard. But no new name can salve the loss from locals who, when Jap Road vanishes, will take a part of their history with it.
"It's our history, it's our heritage. I can remember when it was a dirt road, now it's being portrayed as a racial divide between us and the Japanese-Americans," said Jap Road resident Earl Callahan. Some say Callahan, who's lived on Jap Road all his life, was incensed because he'd just ordered four reams of custom "wacky" stationery with his address on it from Abercrombie and Fitch.
But the County Commission, apparently having read my previous statements on the South, decided that even though none of the residents of Beaumont, TX would ever consider even thinking about being racist, especially to those nice Japanese people, they should probably change the name to keep them from looking like complete and utter redneck hicks. But Jason Marshbum, whose last name sounds like a British euphemism for diarrhea, didn't get that particular memo.
"It feels like we're in the middle of a George Orwell novel. It's like me suing Keebler or Nabisco because the word 'cracker' is offensive to us white people." Yes, it's exactly like that, except for there being no actual food product named "Jap" that the road was really named for, you fucking cracker. If you're going to name-drop George Orwell in an attempt to distract people from the pig attached to your crotch, you should have someone read one of his books to you first.