Ode to Angry White Men

I am an angry man!

I am an angry white man!

I yearn for another, earlier day in my years!

I pledge to work for a return to the good old days!

Then I was in clear control. If not in control myself, I knew who was and how to reach him. I knew how to cajole the favor of any man who could help me to gain my end. I knew how to win my goal. I knew who to club with to notch my quota of desired ends.

In those days I had no concern about competing with anyone who was obviously not as qualified as I.

In those days I could stalk my prize position or possession without fear of competition except from those others who knew the game and played it by the same rules. If I played the right way, things would come to me sooner or later.

I never had to enter my name for a job sought also by a woman; if one of them was brazen enough to compete, I was assured that she was no competition for me.

I never had to compete with or see my friends compete with the grandsons and great grandsons of slaves.

In those days my son never had to doubt his place in the admissions scramble to my college.

In those good old days I could freely dismiss any woman in my company who became pregnant. It didn’t look good to have large-bellied women serving customers. Train someone in a job and I expect them to stay on it for a long time – without maternity leaves.

In the days of my control, I could fire an old man quicker than his hair turned gray.

I never had to make concessions for someone who moved in a wheel chair.

In the good old days I didn’t have to put up with homosexual men and women around me or in my workplace.

In the good old days the only language rights I knew were English and I didn’t have to deal with some foreign store clerk who couldn’t understand me.

I never had to worry about testing procedures that helped determine who was “in” and who was “out.”

In those good old days I knew where I stood, and who stood with me. I knew my place and everyone else knew his place. In the bosom of the club I was secure, and my role was sealed with the bonds of power.

I didn’t have to worry about charges of discrimination. I set the standards; I didn’t need anyone to tell me who I could or could not associate with.

I didn’t need to consider my speech and thoughts; I could say what I thought, in the language of my choice, and no one complained.

In the good old days, my buddies and I could joke about sexy women and even they knew it was just in fun.

Damn, those were good days! I was in control! I didn’t have to be concerned about many things that occupy my time and confuse my head now.

Damn, those were good days!