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Showing posts with label Arabs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Arabs. Show all posts

Thursday, March 15, 2012

In March I Bash the Irish ... In April, Someone Else ...

March 15, 2012: Beware the Ides of March ... and if not that, certainly beware the Irish. They're a crafty lot, as the movie "Leprechaun" demonstrates, and what with Green Vomit Day quickly approaching, it's important we get ourselves ready for whatever strange debacles may lie just ahead in our dark, four-leafed future ...

But before I go into a lengthy rant against anyone's religion, I think it's important I take a moment to remind Blah-ugh! readers that this Blah-ugh! is less about bigotry and intolerance than it is about trying to create buzz around my new e-novel SPACE CASE, which as you all know is the racially tense story of a bigoted earth woman who's forced to mate with a black man from outer space. (Please understand that the term "black" is appropriate in this case, because this alien's ancestors are NOT from Africa, as may be the case for the typical misconstrued African-American earth dweller who is incorrectly referred to as "black," but instead he hails from a region on the planet Visnoid where skin pigments come in a remarkable range of vibrant colors, including one stylish shade of ebony that would put a vain panther to shame.)

Now, I've completely forgotten what my point was, because I began it so long ago, but you can bet the Irish had something to do with it. Or was it the Italians? This reminds me that I meant to get Italian food for lunch today and completely forgot to, opting instead for Chinese. I can only imagine that this sort of experience is the kind of thing that perpetuates the stereotypes surrounding the Chinese and their craftiness. Of course, there's a good chance that Italian laziness also played its part, along with my own Polish stupidity.

The nice thing about the Polish is that the word is also "polish," which has a nice, clean, well-groomed sense to it. It's a much better moniker than, say, Latvians, or Urkutskians. I'm glad I'm not from Urkutsk, which for a long time I believed was only a region in the board game Risk, but now I think may actually really exist, although its natives are probably ashamed to enter the U.N. because it's such a silly name.

Other countries have silly names as well, including ours. In a sense, we don't even HAVE a name, which is REALLY annoying. I wish we were called SOMETHING, like Featherland ... or Vermeel ... or Kasha ...

Which reminds me of something many of you may not have known, or perhaps cared about -- Did you know Soviet Union translates to mean "States United." Now, does that make any sense? It's moot now, but really, what were we all thinking throughout the Cold War, with such comically juxtaposed names?! U.S. / S.U. !! But what kills me is that no one noticed. I mean, even I didn't for a long time, although I was only born in the sixties, so at least I have that excuse for the early post-war years. What about YOU?!

How did we get on this? I was setting out to make fun of the Jews -- the Sephardic, not the Ashkenazi. I mean, what's with Hanukkah?! It starts on a different day each year. Who designed this religion?! The Polish?

No, but seriously, I'm still trying to figure out if my rampant prejudices and stereotyping are a good thing or a bad thing. (If you're laughing, by the way, they're a good thing, but if you're taking steps to have my book banned in schools, we'll need to reshape this post ...)

In a sense, I feel like a valuable museum-like period piece from another era -- meaning the Cold War -- still an example of that strange, sometimes bitter, sometimes hilarious time when fictional characters like Archie Bunker and Fred Sanford were teaching us not only to be aware of our differences, but to celebrate them with humor and embarrassed arrogance, especially if we felt deep down that our differences were better than those of others, or at least not QUITE as different ...

One nice thing about pre-judging people is that it saves a lot of time. And who has ANY time these days, what with text messages to send and millions of emails bouncing each way and Snooky getting pregnant and all the conversations we've got to HAVE ABOUT Snooky and her pregnancy and her being Ho -- (or a Hoe, depending on your stereotyping decisions) -- and all the new facts bombarding us about other television shows and the magazines about people who are ON television shows and ... It's just crazy!

And that's why there comes a point where we have to just cut corners in some area of our lives in order to make a finer showing ...

So why NOT blame the Irish this month? It'll help balance the joyous festivities of their holiday ... And then next month, we can blame someone else for the warm weather -- perhaps the Arabs!

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Welcome To My World (Far From Egypt)

February 1, 2011: Is something happening in Egypt? Honestly, I don't know ... Nor do I want to.

You see, I learned -- taught myself, perhaps -- after the awful anxiety that stirred after 9/11 -- that I had nothing to gain by following the news. It's ironic, because at the time I was writing the news. Still, it made no sense to let my fragile, feather-like emotions (and please understand, they are feather-like) be swayed and slapped and sometimes throttled by the roller coaster rides that are -- at least for me -- prompted by current events.

Today at work -- (Yes, I work! Why is that so funny?! Not all of us have George Clooney's money, even if we're blessed with his brand of dashing good looks) -- a woman was innocently (and honestly) professing to know nothing about what was happening there (in Egypt), but certainly alarmed by all the media attention. She kept looking at me, as if I had some answer, and even the woman who soundly, succinctly summarized the situation for her, then looked to me and said, "Is that about right?" (I merely shrugged and tried to look more like George Clooney; then I spent the rest of the time ruminating on what awful traits I project that make people think I'm authoritative.)

To my credit, I listened to her intelligent explanation and I still don't know what's going on. Nor do I see any good in finding out. When all is said and done, my only real concerns (at least insofar as news information can provide relief or guidance) involve swarms of Arabs (or Egyptians -- honestly, I'm not even sure anymore if they're the same thing!) mounting some kind of offensive that targets my house. If this is the case -- if a large group (or even a small group, really) of Egyptians come riding up my street on Arabian horses wielding those big Ali Baba-type of cutlasses, then I want to know before it happens -- hopefully at least an hour before -- and then I'll take action (which will mostly involve fleeing, with perhaps a bit of screaming).

People will -- and probably often do, behind my back (My god, they do everything behind my back) -- say that I'm neglecting my responsibilities, or ignoring "reality" (and see, I put it in quotes, to emphasize its subjective nature), ... but the truth is I'm merely keeping myself happy, and rest assured, that is no small task, as anyone who's modestly acquainted with me can attest. You see, my fragile psyche is already overstuffed with terrible thoughts and terrors that constantly compete to get the upper hand in depressing me or working me into one lather or another. I don't need any outside help to make the situation (meaning my brain) more turbulent. It does just fine without media input.

Finally, on a related note, from no direct connection I don't think, several times this week I've found myself singing "Walk Like An Egyptian" in the shower. And I sound great, really. I'm even doing the back-up vocals at the same time, and that's not easy.

So don't tell me I'm not involved with world affairs.