When did being a white man become a crime against humanity?

I sifted through the remains of the decimated Sunday paper.  The headlines were mostly negative, as expected.  There seemed to be a common theme uniting them, though:  Man-hating was hot.  For some reason, pundits couldn’t understand that I find Hillary Clinton disingenuous; apparently the fact that she’s a woman was more important in their eyes.  Same thing with Sex and the City.  Just disliking the movie apparently was a sign of blatant sexism.

Even seemingly gender-neutral news like oil prices were laced with anti-white male rhetoric: “It’s just the man profiting off us,” one young student lamented.  I immediately felt burdened with years of other people’s shortcomings.  This must be what a heart attack is like.  Good thing I’m not so old yet.

Perturbed and a little sweaty, I threw the pile of paper into the garbage.  “At least I know how I really feel,” I consoled myself as I ate some granola.  I thought about turning on the television, but decided that the media gods were probably conspiring against me and opted for my iPod instead.  Unfortunately, Steve Jobs and company must have thought my misery funny as Alanis Morissette came on to remind me that she’d go down on me in a theater.  I quickly skipped to the next song.  Jim James’ wail always soothes my nerves, and all was right for a few bites as I finished breakfast.

I thought about taking a walk around the lake, and eventually settled on that as a decent plan of action.  There’s usually a nice breeze coming off of the water and the sun was shining.  What could go wrong?  Plenty, it seemed.  Just being alive was enough to offend many by the water.  I could feel the glares from old and young alike as I ambled along the shoreline, their well-shaped eyebrows forming a sea of scowls.

Maybe I’ll just go home.  Naps are always nice on a Sunday.  I’ll just have to gamble that my subconscious won’t work against me as well.