My deepest apologies for the lackadaisical manner in which these results have been tabulated, but our team of judges has been heretofore unable to reach a consensus.

My thanks to all of the entrants, but especially our winning ethnographer, Ben Oliver, who informed us that “Filipinos can steal your soul just by looking at you.” Congratulations to Mr. Oliver for an insightful and creative addition to the canon. The runners-up, after the jump.

Thanks also to our eminent team of guest judges:

Camille Paglia

and this enchanted Hindoo skull.

It was difficult reaching a consensus, but I cast the tie-breaking vote for Mr. Oliver, who narrowly beat out the eminent racial scholar Jasper Chen with

“Asians compulsively steal napkins from restaurants.”

Honorable mentions go to

”Greeks never cry in front of strangers.” — Maureen Miller

”Poles diaper their babies in butcher paper.” — Jen Dziura

and

”Black people can’t get enough poutine.” — Bradley MacDonald

Congratulations to all of you, but especially to Mr. Oliver, who will be receiving a signed copy of A Practical Guide to Racism, as well as Heretic Pride, the new CD from The Mountain Goats.

My apologies for the delay, but the results of the A Practical Guide to Racism "Create Your Own Stereotype" contest are being tabulated and will be announced soon.

The best stereotypes will be posted here on the website, and the winning entry will be awarded a copy of the book signed by the author, as well as a copy of the new Mountain Goats album, Heretic Pride, C.H. Dalton's pick for album of the year.

Hello, and welcome once again to A Practical Guide to Racism: The Ride! Tremble at the fearsome Jew as he rifles through your pockets for loose change! Quiver in terror as Paco the Mexican plays idly with his butterfly knife while making eye contact with you! Release your bowels in horror at the sight of Gyptor, the Gypsy with access to your social security number!

It’s just a dream, right now, but I’m in very serious talks with the Coors family to start construction by the end of 2009, at their new conservative theme park. I think this could be my big break, if book sales aren’t what I hope.

It wasn’t always this way, scheming for money like a common Hebrew. Dependent on the lowly publishing industry for royalty checks and affirmation. Living alone in a studio apartment with only one manservant and a sub-par private chef. Once, the Daltons were one of the richest families in all of New England.

My great-grandfather, Cornell Dalton, started a small New Haven company – Amalgamated Dalton – with just four hundred dollars and a boatload of white slaves. Did I say “slaves”? I meant “Slavs.” Slavs, who were forced into white slavery, working twenty-hour days in Eleazar’s steam factory.

Amalgamated Dalton was, for much of its existence, the leading manufacturer of steam on the Atlantic seaboard, and my grandfather, Haim, and my father, Eleazar, continued that grand tradition, until AD was bought out and eventually shuttered in 1959.

So what happened, you ask, to the grand Dalton fortune? Squandered. Without a business to run, my father descended into amyl nitrate addiction, and my mother spent much of her own allowance on rent boys, as well as several experimental – and, ultimately, fatal – skin-stretching procedures.

My sister, Johanna, brought with her a large dowry when she married that motorcycle gang, and their subsequent abandonment of her left the pathetic creature penniless, pregnant and permanently lowered in class. My parents died, as they had never lived, in each other’s arms, when they were buried alive in a shared coffin. Their death left me scarcely ten million dollars, and I was forced to go into business for myself, on the side.

Unfortunately, my efforts at venture capitalism drained the rest of my inheritance, and I must now live off a professor’s salary, and the pathetic trickle of book royalties that are sure to come.

Each business I invested in seemed like a sure thing at the time, but not one returned even my initial stake before going belly-up. First, there was the shampoo that stimulated the appetite, for light eaters. Then edible bleach. Then the ice-cream-melting machine, the crank-powered masticator… After that, there was the miraculous penis-shrinking pill, the failure of which remains a mystery to me – it worked perfectly!

Perhaps the final straw was the company that manufactured Styrofoam clothing. Apparently, the idea was too far ahead of its time. Styrofoam is the material of the future, but some people are still too scared and backwards to embrace that kind of progress. Simpletons.

After that debacle, I was left with practically nothing, which is why today I must lower myself to writing missives like this to promote my scholarly work. I have always enjoyed studying the lesser races, but there is no end of shame to the Dalton name that I must publish my work and sell it on the street like a common Faulkner or Melville.

I have high hopes for this new theme park, though. The Coors family seems very interested in my work, and I believe an A Practical Guide to Racism attraction could be fun for all races that are willing to pay to ride it.

That’s all for this week. Please buy my book.

So it’s come to this. The demands of the Internet and its constant, unquenchable thirst for “content” have brought us here. To discussing the weather.

My good friend James Inhofe has been telling me a lot about this whole “global warming” controversy, and I’ve looked into it. I know what you think I’m going to say: that Jews control the weather, and they’ve created global warming in order to sell us all sunscreen and hats, and to make the rest of the world as hot and dusty as their blighted Holy Land.

Well, yes. But that’s not all.

Unlike Senator Inhofe, I do believe that the earth is getting warmer, and that man is somehow responsible. And, unlike Senator Inhofe, I don’t believe that it’s a PR conspiracy by the Weather Channel to boost their ratings. Surprised? I was, too, but that was before I was able to go outside without a coat the other day. In the middle of Winter! It must have been upwards of 60 degrees out.

Clearly, the globe is warming. I don’t know if there are any other kinds of reasoning other than inductive, but it’s clearly the best kind, and in this case it has proven to me that the earth’s temperature is rising at an enormous rate.

I haven’t been this sure of anything since I got sick after eating an avocado, and became convinced that Mexican food was poison. Which it is.

Some people have said to me, “but Professor Dalton, I remember this one day back in July when I needed a jacket. Doesn’t that mean the earth is cooling?” Well, I don’t remember that day, so I remain steadfast. Of course, it could have been during that week that I spent locked in my building’s laundry room.

I had to eat six dryer sheets.

Others say, “Professor Dalton, I never would have thought you would have been suckered in by the San Francisco anti-business liberal conspiracy.” And to them I say, “Senator Inhofe, this isn’t about the Homo-Zionist World Agenda™, it’s about the environment. Also, I sweat uncontrollably in warm weather, and would rather not have to deal with it any more than I already have to.”

What’s most troubling to me about this whole debate, though, is the fact that I haven’t heard one single positive suggestion for what to do about the problem. Anyone can make a stink about “catastrophe” this and “apocalypse” that, but where are the solutions? Fortunately, I have an answer: coal.

Think about it. It grows in the earth, so it’s organic, and aren’t the lefties always going on and on about “organic”? Plus, the only people harmed by coal are the ones who have to dig it out of the ground. It’s just rocks, after all, not dirty, messy gook like oil. What could be cleaner than rocks?

Think about it, America.

This missive paid for by the National Mining Association.

Hello, and welcome to A Practical Guide to Racism dot com. Your one-stop shop for everything related to me, C.H. Dalton.

As a man of science, I am, of course, concerned with not just the behavioral and cultural differences between the races, but with the genetics of race as well. As everyone knows, the nine races are all essentially different at a base, genotypical level.

For example, white chromosomes are all like, “I’m going to provide you with pink skin and blonde hair, good sir,” while black chromosomes are all like, “Yo! I’ma give you some straight up sickle cell anemia, mofo!”

Genetics is the study of how traits are passed down from one generation to another. It is generally studied within a family, but what is race but one large, dysfunctional family unit? In fact, genetics proves that all members of a race are biologically related. That means that every Jew is descended from the same bearded moneylender.

It’s how the races developed their unique ethnic makeup. Just like you have some features from your mother and some from your father, all of your features are a result of your race. For example, I have HPV.

The genetic composition of the different races is fixed now, but it’s not unchangeable. In fact, back in Bible times, we were all one race. That was before people spread across the globe and developed into the nine races we know today. Benjamin Rush pointed modern science in this direction way back in 1797, with a paper to the American Philosophical Society called “Observations Intended to Favour a Supposition That the Black Color (As It Is Called) of the Negroes Is Derived From the Leprosy.”

He later determined that being black wasn’t the result of leprosy, but of a unique disease he called “negroidism.” He believed that this disease was hereditary, but could, potentially be cured. Unfortunately, Dr. Rush was wrong—there is no cure for “negroidism,” and in fact its sufferers have become a race unto themselves.

In this origin, the blacks are much like those other much-maligned races, the Diabetics and the Elephant Men.

This transition from hereditary disease to hereditary trait occurred through what is known as evolution, as explained in the writings of Jean-Baptiste Lamarck. Just as giraffes’ necks grew long because they stretched upwards to reach the highest leaves, and as missing limbs are passed down to amputees’ children, so was black skin passed down from generation to generation among what later developed into the black race.

And that, my young charges, is where babies come from.

That’s all for this week. I encourage you to look up the science behind these genetic abnormalities, and learn the truth about the different races. Good day.