My tenth-grade science teacher was a short, ugly, middle-aged junkie who lived in the slums on the wrong side of town. But I’m not allowed to say that anymore. Instead, political correctness dictates that I write something like, “My high school pedagogue of advanced scientific theories was an unconventional-looking, vertically, and chronologically challenged male with a substance abuse dependency who lived in an economically deprived part of the propinquity. There. Does that sound better? Hmmm… Not to me. What set me off on this ridiculous diatribe was the deflating news that my favorite California ski resort is succumbing to pressure to change its name.[1] By the start of the next…