Remember when we used to be able to make ethnic and racial jokes?  There was a time when humor was a major source of social engagement between people, who enjoyed laughing at themselves and the stereotypes attributed to them.  In other words, they weren't so sensitive that they couldn't see the humor in a few innocuous manifestations of witty dialogue.  My old buddy, Leroy Spivey, a cop I worked with in a radio car for a few years, didn't have any hang-ups about racial comedy.  In addition, he wasn't so narcissistic about his color that he wouldn't get a kick out of a funny story. 

One story he used to tell was about a black guy who was crossing a street and got hit by a car driven by a white guy who was speeding.  He said the black guy was thrown about fifty feet because of the impact.  The people listening to the story would be appropriately shocked, asking, what happened to the driver?  "Well," Leroy said, feigning outrage, but readying the punch line, "when the cops got to the scene, they picked up the black guy and arrested him for leaving the scene of an accident."  After the initial look of bewilderment, everyone in the room, including Leroy, would bust out laughing.

They were laughing not at the authenticity of the story, which was in fact apocryphal, but at the silliness of it.  My erstwhile partner was making a joke out of the serious issue of race discrimination.  It was a clever way of illustrating actual race prejudice by using an absurd example.

There's a trait attributed to the Irish: they have a propensity toward liquid vegetables such as barley, corn, rye, and hops.  Moreover, the descendants of the old sod have a reputation for being quick to temper after a few gulps of a distilled beverage.  If you referred to an Irish as "Mick," you'd better get your dukes up.  Some believe that the word "Mick" is derogatory because it sounds like a drunken hiccup.  Interestingly, the Urban Dictionary tells us that the derogatory word "Spick" came from Mick.  It seems that in the early 1900s when Irish and Spanish immigrants were equally hated by many Americans, they shared Catholic churches because both nationalities had the same faith and moral values.  Therefore, they began referring to Latinos as Spanish Micks, or "Spicks."  Irish bar brawls in my old neighborhood in lower Manhattan were as routine as egg rolls in a Chinese restaurant.

Italians are often portrayed as mobsters in movies.  Consequently, when I had an argument with one of my Italian buddies, I used to ask if he was going to put a horse's head in my bed.  Jews are often depicted as stingy and greedy.  When my wife and I visit the home of my Jewish brother-in-law, who lives in another state, he jokingly says we can stay at his place, but there'll be a small fee.  Puerto Ricans are often associated with spicy food and sensual dancing.  When people meet my wife, they commonly ask about rice and beans and the Pachanga. 

When Leroy and I had time for a meal during many busy nights on patrol, I would jokingly ask what chicken or rib joint he wanted to dine in.  He knew me well enough to know there was no racial animus contained in that comment.  Besides, he also knew I loved that food as much as he did.  His retort might be, "Bob, I've heard about the seven-course Irish dinner; a six-pack and a boiled potato."  We found humor in our respective heritages and used it affectionately, without even a hint of malice. 

Being able to accomplish that melding of cultures is what this great experiment called the USA used to be about.  It took a long time to discover that our differences were no match for our similarities.  If you've ever taken part in one of those DNA research companies, you're likely to discover that you are a mixture of numerous races and nationalities.  When I received a report from 23 and Me, a genomics and biotechnology company, I found, among other genetic attributes, that I had a small percentage of African ancestry.  Since then, I've been jumping higher and scoring more baskets than ever before.

Image via Pxhere.

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