By Amy Meyer | Publisher | Mineral Wells Area News
Editorial Note: The following is an editorial column. The views expressed are those of the writer and reflect perspectives on community culture and civic life.
It’s 2026 — Stop Using the “R” Word. Our Kids Notice
In neighboring Parker County, Fins Patio Bar & Grill in Weatherford has built a massive online following with more than 40,000 followers at the time of this writing. That following didn’t emerge by accident. Fins leaned into shock-driven content, publicly shaming dine-and-dashers and mocking customer misbehavior. Over time, the posts drifted from snarky to mean-spirited, including fat-shaming, sexist digs, and racially charged memes. Many brushed it off as edgy marketing.
In late November, Fins announced its annual $10,000 scavenger hunt which is a contest followed by hundreds of families across Parker County and here in Palo Pinto County. In a time when money is tight for many, the prize drew a broader audience than the bar crowd that typically consumes Fins’ content.
Suddenly, the audience wasn’t just bar patrons. It was families, teachers, coaches, and parents following along for the prize.
And that is where the problem came into full view.
As participation grew, so did the hostility. Comment threads filled with a mix of legitimate questions, harmless clarifications, and occasional complaints. It’s exactly what any business should expect when running a public contest. In response, the restaurant’s Facebook account replied with memes, slurs, and degrading images, including those featuring disabled individuals and Special Olympics participants.
One mother of a child with Down syndrome wrote:
“These memes and words may seem like jokes, but they are so much more. They feed the cultural pattern that turns disabled individuals into punchlines and grow unrecognized bias.”
But instead of pausing to reconsider, the restaurant doubled down. In a recent post, Fins responded to the criticism by repeatedly using the r-word itself (even describing critics as “r-worded humans”) while encouraging followers to leave five-star reviews to drown out backlash and keep the treasure hunt alive.
What defenders called “just jokes” became a spectacle of humiliation and some in the crowd applauded. We would never tolerate someone mocking a disabled child at a grocery store, Little League game, or church potluck. Yet online, cruelty becomes entertainment.
This behavior doesn’t stay contained by county lines. Many residents here in Palo Pinto County are following and actively participating in Fins’ scavenger hunt. This same abhorrent behavior tone is bleeding into our own local forums.
Facebook’s newer features of anonymous posting and nickname posting have only added fuel. Anonymity removes accountability, and without accountability, cruelty spreads.
We also need to talk about language. The r-word was once a clinical term, but it was removed from diagnostic manuals and federal law more than a decade ago. Today it survives mostly as slang and not always directed at disabled individuals, but used to describe situations, frustrations, or mistakes. We hear it daily in our community, from adults and children alike. Kids use it because parents use it.
Words shape culture, and culture shapes how we treat people. If disability becomes shorthand for “broken” or “stupid,” we should not be surprised when kids grow up viewing disabled individuals as punchlines rather than neighbors.
This isn’t about political correctness. Retiring the r-word is about basic human decency and our kids deserve to grow up in a community that understands the difference. If we want our kids to be kinder than we were, we have to model better language. Not for social media, but for our children.
The incentives for bad behavior online are real. Attention converts to visibility, and visibility converts to advantage. Outrage travels faster than empathy. In that environment, cruelty wins.
But small towns are supposed to be the last places where neighborliness still matters. When someone gets sick, we deliver casseroles. When a family loses their home in a fire, we fill donation boxes. When a child needs surgery, we hold benefit fundraisers. These are not old-fashioned customs, they are acts of kindness that hold communities together.
So we must ask: what happened to “Love Thy Neighbor”? In communities like ours, we are all neighbors whether we act like it or not.
We are not naïve about the broader culture either. A political era that rewarded humiliation as entertainment taught the public that empathy is weakness and cruelty is strength. When disability is mocked from political podiums and met with laughter and applause, we should not be shocked when that performance trickles down into everyday life. Children absorb what we normalize.
We cannot stick our heads in the sand any longer. This is not about censorship. It is not about political correctness. It is not even about one restaurant. It is about whether we choose dignity and humanity over spectacle in the places we call home.
The pushback against this kind of behavior has already begun from parents, especially parents of disabled children, who have quietly decided that enough is enough. They are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for respect.
If Fins truly believes this is all just “a game,” perhaps they will see the error of their antics and take the $10,000 grand prize and donate it to the Special Olympics or another charity that supports people with intellectual disabilities.
That would look a lot more like the Texas I know.
The question in front of us is simple and deeply American: Can we make America kind again?
Our kids are watching.