On the news

It's so hard to be politically correct these days. I mean, just look at all news reports of the #BlackLivesMatter mobs, yes, mobs, attacking and harassing innocent people. Can't say anything without inciting a mob, can't be quiet without inciting a mob. Students being accused of racism and assaulted while trying to study in libraries. A black student who feels oppressed because she has to read literature written by white authors in a European literature course and demands that she be excepted. A teacher losing her job because she tries to have a rational discussion of race issues in her class seminar (although I think the story on this one may be more complicated than news reports present).  Is it me or do almost all the recent reports reek of something akin to false rape accusations and manipulation of white guilt?

MLK would be rolling over in his grave. Even Malcolm X would be infuriated. The only thing that these violent, self-entitled mobs achieve is to create racism. Think about it. Someone who has never treated another person based on race, who has always supported civil rights, suddenly accused of being racist and assaulted simply because they're white or have other things in life to worry about on the day of a protest. Even worse, someone who may want to be involved in a rational discussion, who may want to help address our difference problems, now too afraid to join in on any movement, for fear of false accusations. Peaceful protest? Nah. Nothing solidifies a hateful stereotype more than personal experience.

Political correctness doesn't also apply only to race. It's been popping its head up intermittently during my time here in Philadelphia. I've met a few self-proclaimed feminists, some loud LGBTers here who walk the line. Anectodally, during one of our recent laboratory sessions, one of the professors, who was probably born in the 30's from South Africa, while emphasizing a point about our lack of knowledge of the material, said something along the lines of "I should bend you all over and spank you on your bottoms!" Ok, kind of weird. Kind of awkard. Whatever, the dude's like 90, loves teaching, and is otherwise appropriate in class. Let's all move on, right?

Apparently not. I just found out recently that someone in my class was so offended that she went and complained to academic affairs. I may be biased about this person, based off my interactions with her, but it seems odd to me to malign this man's career because of a misplaced joke. He has rarely been offensive previous to this and he's a goddamn good teacher, been here for like 15 years...now he's on some "watch list" because of a "slapping bottoms" comment? You must be joking. People these days are too damn sensitive, or perhaps they feel too entitled to be sensitive. Or perhaps I'm just insensitive and need an "appropriateness" adjustment. I just think that all this extra noise distracts from the real problems.

Anyway, general consensus has told me that this cake tastes like "Asian" cake, the kind you get from the Asian bakery. Just something simple and easy to toss together. Not much more to say than that.

Yogurt Cake

2 small loaves

1 C whole milk Greek yogurt

1 C granulated sugar

1/3 C freshly squeezed orange juice (2 clementines)

3 extra large eggs

1 teaspoon orange or lemon extract

1/2 teaspoon almond extract

2 teaspoons orange zest (optional) 

1/3 C vegetable or grapeseed oil

1 3/4 C all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

granulated sugar (to decorate)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a small loaf pan. 

Mix together all the wet ingredients (yogurt, sugar, orange juice, eggs, extracts, orange zest, and oil) and 1 cup granulated sugar in a large bowl . Sift together the flour and baking powder, then fold into the wet ingredients forming a batter. Once evenly mixed, pour into the buttered loaf pan and dust with granulated sugar. 

Bake at 350 for 45 minutes, or until center has risen and top is well-browned and cracked (or an inserted toothpick comes out clean). Remove from oven and let cool before serving warm.