It's a sort of game, I suppose.

The Missus and me are arguing about tastes in music, on which we seldom agree. She will listen to Waylon Jennings and Emmylou Harris from my records; I can tolerate Simon and Garfunkel and the Beach Boys from hers. That's about it.
So as we're talking over various artists and kicking them into touch something hits me.
"You haven't got one record by a black artist" I tell her, "That must be deliberate discrimination". She tries to think of one, she searches, and finds one Johnny Mathis CD. A pathetic haul, but I'm proved wrong.
"Well you haven't got any Jewish artists." she says. I ought to mention here that she is a massive Neil Diamond fan. It's possible that she's got more Neil Diamond records than Neil Diamond. Then there's Barbra Streisand, Bette Midler, Billy Joel, and I don't know how many others.
I rack my brains, can't think of one. There must be one or two. I go to the shelves, nobody leaps out at me. There must be some among the jazzmen. AHA! Stan Getz, maybe Lee Konitz. Then, among the classic stuff, Glenn Gould, maybe Ándrás Schiff. Then there's Bob Dylan. My bacon's saved (bad metaphor).

Today she hit me with another one - musical homophobia.
I'm giving out on the subject of Elton John, can't stand the man, or his music. "That's 'cos he's gay", says my Missus. Not so, I reply.
"Freddie Mercury, you don't like him".
"Course I don't, prancing bloody mountebank."
"You don't like anybody gay. You're prejudiced"
"Dusty Springfield!" (I worship her)
"You don't like gay men."
"Pasolini, Jean-Claude Brialy" (clutching at straws).
"Never heard of them."
"Gore Vidal, youve heard of him."
"But no records by gay men."
Back to the shelves, I can't find one, not a damn one. There must be dozens but they aren't out and proud, not to my knowledge.
Jazz, Blues, Country, maybe they're musical environments where it's difficult to be openly gay. And they're the genres that are most prominent among my stuff. Then there's the lady singers but I'm not allowed to count them. The folk stuff should be more productive; a pretty tolerant bunch on the whole, but no, I come up empty. World music, not a hope.
The search goes on. There's a big box of CDs upstairs to scrutinise, then its on to cassette tapes.
Even if I don't find anything I won't lose any sleep. Except that I've got to prove the Missus wrong, or it'll come up everytime we talk about music.