Even Chelsea Handler Hates Redheads (But Loves Midgets)

There is a an entire chapter in Chelsea Handler's book, "Are you there, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea," about dating a ginger male. I have to say, even I'm offended by the midget-lover's description of "Big Red" aka Austin. I have to say though, she did distinguish between redheaded males and redhead females saying, "For a woman, being a redhead is a completely acceptable trait. Oftentimes it can be extremely attractive."

However, she discusses this male, who she clearly fell in love with despite not being able to look at his pubes in broad daylight. She clearly likes him but can't seem to get past his hair.

I've a lot of friends who confess interest in ginger men, and I've met a few attractive ones myself despite usually being repulsed by them.

Anyway, some highlights from her chapter includ:

"...I am unclear as to why they are called redheads when, for the most part, their hair is bright orange." People tell me I had orange hair all the time. That's when the ginger temper flairs.

"My theory on the redheaded race is that they have no positive role models paving the way for them. It's not like Ronald McDonald or Carrot Top have really helped their cause. Who are they supposed to model themselves after? Danny Bonaduce?" I couldn't agree more. First, note how she politely and accurately refers to us as a "race". Secondly, I see the need for a redheaded role model, and I feel I could occupy that white space and fill that need.

On Austin: "It looked like he had gone bobbing for apples in a barrel filled with Fanta orange soda."

"...I wondered what it would be like to have redheaded children. I had the same fears interracial couples must have when deciding what society's effects might be on a child of mixed race. Would they be discriminated against because of their hair color? Nevermind the cluster of freckles that would accompany that color of hair and the incessant teasing they would have to endure, being compared to Connect the Dots, or, God forbid, Lindsay Lohan." This is exactly how I feel, and why, upon occasion, I promise myself to never procreate unless it is with a black person so there is absolutely no chance of my recessive genes winning out.

Anyway, I picked up this book recently and felt a sense of similarity with Chelsea until I got to this chapter. I totally see her point, but she puts midgets ahead of redheads? Seriously, whoever says our redheaded race cannot be alikened to that of a tribe from a third-world country is bullocks!

Chelsea, thank you for your honest and poignant commentary on gingers. Hopefully the world will realize the rampant redism that exists in our poor, poor world, and how much we suffer at other's (your) thoughts, words and actions against us.

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    The Ginger Phile has had the unfortunate disposition of being a ginger since birth. She has tried various medications to cure her gingervitis, including therapies such as tantrum-throwing. Her efforts have been to no avail. Instead, she is trying to write it out, via this blog. Unfortunately, she doesn't think it will bear a soul for her. The Ginger Phile is from the exotic land of Wisconsin, where she had daily inner turmoil over whether she was a ginger or a daywalker. So far, three of three votes say daywalker. She begs to differ, as someone recently told her they would want to be with her if they were biking at night because she is so pale.

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