Imagine, if you will, a cute young couple stepping onto a bus or subway you are riding on. Their child, although a cheerful little creature, is wearing a pink shirt so stained and discolored it looks like it had been dipped in dumpster-juice. Streaks of watermelon, lasagna, liquefied graham cracker, and god knows what bodily fluids leave a unique pattern across her chest, and bits of undigested food are stuck in her hair.
Would you think, "those white-trash parents are raising their child to be a p-i-g PIG?"
Now imagine if that same child lifted her daddy's shirt to expose his pale, distended belly. Using the same finger that had just been absorbing exotic germs from the subway poll, she plunges up to her elbow into his belly button.
Would you shudder with disgust, then vomit?
This same child, in her newly psychedelic shirt, is gleefully working the surrounding crowd when she reaches out her pudgy fingers and pulls down her mother's shirt, exposing the entirety of her boob.
Would you say, "My god, I don't care if this is my stop or not, I NEED to get off now. Where's the emergency brake?"