Tip of the day: Don’t tip, you racist

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  Tip of the day: Don’t tip! Why?

Read Jabborwocky  by Carroll as to why.

Word of caution to everyone who feels that they are doing some good in the world by being generous tippers: according to Politico, tipping has a “racist history”:

You might not think of tipping as a legacy of slavery, but it has a far more racialized history than most Americans realize. Tipping originated in feudal Europe and was imported back to the United States by American travelers eager to seem sophisticated. The practice spread throughout the country after the Civil War as U.S. employers, largely in the hospitality sector, looked for ways to avoid paying formerly enslaved workers.

The Rev. Dr. Barber II’s article is one long, desperate pitch for a horrible idea: raising the mandatory minimum wage to $15 an hour. The Rev. Dr. Barber II’s justification for doing so is that it will “end a pernicious legacy of slavery.”

Because of the allegedly “racialized history” of gratuities, the Rev. Dr. Barber II takes umbrage with the entire notion of having to hustle for a buck:

Tipping further entrenched a unique and often racialized class structure in service jobs, in which workers must please both customer and employer to earn anything at all.

Somebody should tell the good Rev. Dr. about all of the people who aren’t in the service industry and work on commission alone. I sold real estate to pay for college back in the day and my guaranteed minimum wage was $0.

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Firenze Sage    jaj48@ao.com     Racism” has no more meaning than Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky.

Jabberwocky

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
      The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
      Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
      And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
      And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
      He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
      He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.

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