Out of Kilter presents:
Through the eyes of a pinko
by Ken Carpenter
Until recently I hadn’t even thought of the term commie pinko in years. The reason I thought of it was that I was called one. I guess maybe a few others will think of me that way too when they find out what heinous crime I’m guilty of.
I refuse to watch reality shows, and I make no bones about it. My idea of what is real and what is not does not seem to mesh with what the rest of the world thinks. My idea of a reality show is a ball game, the news or a documentary, not a bunch of obnoxious boobs who have been coached and choreographed to provide ‘spontaneous entertainment.’
That said, I refuse to waste any more time swelling on my disgust with reality shows. Instead, I will expound on my newfound existence as a pinko.
The word pink was coined by Time Magazine in 1926. It was short for ‘parlor pinks’, which was just the term used to describe those with any kind of left-wing sympathies (Hmmmm, maybe I do have just a hint of pinko in me.)
Oddly enough, it was also during the Roaring Twenties that the habit began of assigning pink to an individual gender. Odder yet, it was chosen for boys while blue was picked as the more delicate designation for girls. This practice continued until the 1940’s, when common sense prevailed and they swapped places.
I’m not sure what prompted it, maybe some proud Pappy got tired of seeing little Johnny in his pink boxers.
In case you are wondering, it is none of your darn business what color my underwear is. Us pinkos need to have some secrets.
Pink was first recorded as a color in the 17th century. It has been said, “to some it sings, to others it screams”, especially in its hot pink form, introduced in 1947 by a fashion designer. To me it just says, “I am woman, be nice or you will hear me roar.”
In Japan, pornographic films are called ‘pink movies’, whereas in America they are known as ‘blue movies’. It is something to do with their fondness for cherry blossoms, and I must say no more, or I will get in trouble.
Pink symbolizes joy and happiness to the Catholic Church. It is also said to encourage friendliness while discouraging aggression and ill will, and some will say it actually has a tranquillizing effect. For proof of this, check out the glazed expression on any male’s face when Pamela Anderson is on the TV screen wearing a pink bikini.
Cotton candy and Pepto-Bismol are pink, which goes to show that the color can either make you feel warm and fuzzy or want to puke.
You can be in the pink or drink enough Pink Ladies to make you see pink elephants, and many say that looking at the color makes you crave sugar, which can tickle you pink.
In the 1950’s many houses were outfitted with pink appliances, toilets and sinks. Just thinking about it almost gives me pinkeye.
In flower language, pink roses are supposed to mean perfect happiness or “please believe me,” and a pink carnation means “I’ll never forget you.” If given to the right person at the right time, they may also inspire the pink blush of a flirt.
So, love it or hate it, pink is with us every day in some way, even if you just happen to be seen with a known pinko. It really has been hard to distinguish them since the old Communist terror days though, and even then, you had to spot their shifty eyes. Actually, in most cases, you just had to accuse somebody of being one, whether they were or not.
I suppose I can live quite nicely being a new age pinko, since most people don’t know what they are anyway.
I just hope nobody squeals on me for the time I wore a pink lei with my coconut bra and grass skirt. One man can only suffer so much indignity.