Kitschy grandmas have walnut wainscoting, tasteful lighting, and fresh roses? There’s not even any plastic covering on the upholstery, or fake crystal bowls of ancient congealed hard candy! And not a Keane big-eye knockoff in sight!
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a what?
but you’re right, a cheap print of a röhrender Hirsch (belling stag) is totally missing, THE prime example of trivial 19th/20th century “art” in Germany
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never saw something like that before. thanks for the nightmares, this will result in a few uneasy nights.
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I would no more describe a store run by a Pakistani as a “paki shop” in polite company than call a store run by Japanese people a “Jap shop”, a kosher deli a “Jew store”, or a store run by Black people “that Black store”. They’re technically correct terms, sort of, but using them that way comes off as inherently racist.
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Okay, I get it. Maybe there just aren’t enough Pakistanis around here for people to be specifically racist against them? Aside from redneck idiots who think that anyone wearing a turban or burning incense is responsible for 9/11. IME racism against subcontinentals is mostly the relatively mild stereotypes about cab drivers and the Temple of Doom and 24-hour convenience stores and outsourced helpdesks. Emphasis on “relatively,” I’m not trying to minimize, but I’ve never heard an American really getting their hate on in that direction. It’s possible that’s just the liberal bubble I somehow manage to exist within.
Are we allowed to say “subcontinental?” Honest question.
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No, I totally get that, I’ve never encountered it in my area, either. The convenience stores in my town are run by a wide mix of ethnicities – there’s quite a few Ethiopians, some Asian Indian, Bangladeshi, and a surprising number of Himalayans, so we don’t have anything close to a standard ethnic stereotype. Plus it’s a liberal bubble. When I lived in a redneck town, the corner stores were all run by other rednecks, so I didn’t see it there, either.
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You should totally see the movie Big Eyes! Its so good!
For a period in the 60s every dentist or doctors office in America (and lots of Canada too) had a print of Keane’s “Big Eyes”. (or a sad hobo clown… what was up with the sad hobo clowns?)
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Growing up in my (non US, non-UK) hometown, There was nothing untoward about referring to “the Indian dairy”, “the Italian greengrocer” or “the French bakery”.
Granted, those ones are not even slang, let alone slurs. Though the French bakery probably had a frog as its logo already, so what are you going to do? 
Other nicknames and descriptors were just slang, with absolutely no malice intended, and it’s a bit weird to find out retroactively that the meaning and intent of common words is later revised to be different from the intent of the people that actually said it, or the meanings that were understood from it at the time.
It was years before I found that it was even possible to take offense at the friendly descriptor “Yank”, or “Pommie”. And though I knew (from war comics) “Nip” was never said nicely, “Jap” was a totally safe word, and you’d see cars proudly advertised in the classified as a “Jap import” with no stigma attached or adduced.
As with @L_Mariachi - if there is not enough of a minority around to be specifically racist about them, then a descriptor is just a descriptor, and isn’t magically loaded with any underlying meaning. Despite how it may also be used by people in a different culture or a different time.
I’m sure there are places in the world where you can refer to someone as an “Aussie”, and depending on your tone, can imbue it with some stereotypical baggage if you try hard enough. Earls Court? Munich? 
No. Uh-uh. As a Melbourne born-and-bred, south-eastern suburbs girl, I have literally never heard a milkbar described as a ‘dairy’.
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Re bottle-oes (bottle-os? Neither looks right). They’re not really the same thing as corner/convenience stores. Bottle shops only sell alcohol and alcohol-related things such as soft drink/soda/pop/mixers and cigarettes, while corner stores can not sell any form of alcohol and tend to sell things like milk, bread, lollies, chips etc.
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Ah, gotcha! That makes sense. I only went in one bottle shop when I was there so I didn’t have a clear idea if they all were alcohol-only (more or less) or just that one.
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Yeah, all bottle shops are alcohol only (more or less). 
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One fine morning, a frog named Jimmy, while ruminating on his lily pad, has a great idea for selling locally sourced free-range fireflies, packaged live in antique mason jars, on spec through the bodegas in his neighborhood. He’s sure he can get a little shelf space, all he needs is the capital to get his canning operation up and running.
So he hops on down to the local credit union, goes in, and asks the teller about getting a small business loan. The teller consults her terminal for a moment, then directs him to the area where the loan officers sit. “It’s the second desk on the left,” she says, “ask for Ms. Black.”
Jimmy approaches the desk and says “Ms. Black? I’m Jimmy Frog, and I’d like to get a small business loan.”
“Please, call me Patti,” she says. “Do you have a business plan?” Jimmy proceeds to tell her about his idea, outlining his overall development plan and going into detail about his target market segment and how much runway he’ll need before he can reasonably expect to become profitable. It’s ambitious, but doable.
Patti reviews the document one final time, then enters his application into the computer. After a few minutes, she looks up and says, “that’s a fine plan Mr. Frog, but I’m afraid you don’t qualify for an unsecured line of credit. Do you have any collateral?”
Jimmy thinks for a minute, then digs around in his fanny pack and pulls out a dusty tchotchke; it’s a miniature replica of Mt. Rushmore, a souvenir from his vacation to South Dakota. “How about this?”
Patti takes the small figurine, eyes it dubiously. “Hmmm,” she says, “I’ll have to check with my manager.” After a brief phone call, Mr. Johnson, the chief loan officer, appears at her desk. Patti shows him the loan application, holds up the trinket, and explains “it’s a sound business plan, but all he has for collateral is this.”
Mr, Johnson takes one look at the curio and declares, “that’s a knickknack Patti Black, give the frog a loan!”
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You forgot the part about the frog’s dad being Mick Jagger…
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What?!? I don’t know that part. Please elaborate.
This is one of my favorite jokes from my childhood. Literally a dad joke.
…his old man’s a Rolling Stone.
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Ha! nice. Don’t know if I never heard that part or just forgot it. Thanks.
The packie is not the Paki. They’ve been the packie for generations here. Ask Jackie!
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What a homophone
