Monday, September 12, 2011

No Homo and the Evolution of Tolerance

(ONLY A FEW WEEKS FROM NEGROPEDIA ON SALE DATE. MANY VAINGLORIOUS PLANS IN THE OFFING. WE GOT A PRE-ORDER WIDGET TO THE RIGHT HERE--->> AND NEW HOT FIRE CONTENT COMING. BUT FOR JUST A LITTLE WHILE MORE WE REPUBLISH SOME TAN CLASSIC POSTS (i.e. ONES WITH COMMENTS and CONVERSATION ON THEM!!) ... SO IN THE MEANTIME, IN-BETWEEN TIME, HOLLER AT YOUR BOY, STOCK UP ON CANNED GOODS AND PREPARE FOR THE REVOLUTION!!!)

Jonah Weiner, who serves as one of the hip hop/urban music ambassadors for Slate, has a solid point-of-entry piece on the "No Homo" craze in hip hop (and beyond, since the term has by-and-large crossed over into more of a pop cultural phenomenon). His point, essentially, is: yes, saying "no homo" is still homophobia; but it's a lot better than what used to be status quo in hip hop.

Both those things are true. But, just like when racial or religious or *any* sort of intolerance needs a firmer hand, or at least noting that we are only scratching the surface of a much more profoundly complex issue, I think that's called for here. Because honestly, we need to be further along, and I say that mostly from the spirit of being a fan and hip hop urban-culture enthusiast.

Coates at the Atlantic has run some harsher words over this before. And been much more pointed about the problem. It makes me briefly wonder if Jonah, and/or Slate as proxy, can only approach with a certain cavalier attitude because it's not *their* issue so much. Maybe The Root and Skip Gates need to be slamming the door on this a little harder. Because while i don't actually cry, I do think about shedding a tear or two -- i feel the emotional swelling (no homo) -- when considering the rampant homophobia and ultimately, hypocrisy of intolerance, when I think about all the rappers and artists and *Heroes* who have brazenly been hateful to a group of people. It's really no different than your daddy being a racist.

Jonah opens his piece with the both brilliant and obvious example of Kanye. Specifically mentioning his rant about homophobia, that came a little prior to his "george bush hates black people" comment. Which got a lot more pub. He notes the anti-homophobia rant for its unique anomalous nature; no one else has really come out of the closet in such a bold declarative way on the homophobia issues in hip hop (and hip hop serving in some sense as proxy to black culture here).

But the more direct attack and implication is to consider Kanye extending the George Bush comment in this way: "George Bush doesn't care about Black people, Black people don't care about homosexual people. (Homosexual people don't care about vaginas, but that part is neither here nor there.)" Such a line might have framed the tradition of (American?) intolerance in a more comprehensive light.

In any event, i wonder about proprietary issues when righting a wrong. Correcting an error. Obama challenging black folk is different than Bill Clinton. An old-wave feminist doing the same to women, is a similar formulation. Rappers and black people need to be more forceful and demanding in this zone. Because we are losing when we reject ourselves in this way.

Which segues to some of Jonah's extended premise in his piece. A sense of humor/jokes as indicator of progress, movement towards truth.

This makes sense in the realm of racial and sexual identity politics. Black people make black people do this and white people do that jokes. Men and women make men do this and women do that jokes. "No homo" is in fact often a funny addendum. If you can insulate yourself from the hateful part of it all, it's an amusing pithy little phrase. And certainly when used to access the even broader construct of masculinity, femininity etc., it can bring a smile. Of course, that shows the "no homo" isn't even actually about "homos" any more. But what we consider masculine and feminine. The Katy Perry "ur so gay, and you don't even like boys" sentiment. Kanye and many famous "tough rappers" are probably a little removed from knowing how to fix a car that broke down on the highway, chop down a tree and start a fire, fist-fighting, but know about the latest fashion-designers, getting pedicures, etc. No homo?

But as any dysfunctional comedian will tell you, the sense of humor, comic relief, is sourced by a sense of detachment. ironic distance. you/we couldn't make jokes about black people for a long time, because it was too raw and serious and immediate. The wounds were still open. Then they scar over, and it gets a little easier. And now, shoot, we almost can hardly tell it's there now with all the cosmetic surgery we've enlisted *cough*.

So that's progress. But again, point of entry. There's a narrative of tolerance here. Where are we progressing from? How did the story begin? Why was hip hop culture so invested in hating others in the first place? I sense this racial issue, like so many others, is a gateway to larger American or human issues. In this case my suspicion is that when we have been abused we want someone else to at some point experience the same pain/abuse. We want to be empowered by damaging someone the same way we felt damaged. If we stop and *pause* and think about it, such logic doesn't make sense; all of these abuses and wrongs are circumstantial. You can never inflict the same pain, only the particular pain for those particular people/circumstances. If you as a father abuse your son, he doesn't know the abuse you received from your father, his grandfather, any more intimately. He only knows the pain he's receiving from you. This is why the Golden Rule works practically, not only as a morally idealized notion of the universe. We can't transfer our rationalized selves, which is what the psychological scars from abuse are. There's the immediate pain (or joy), and then how we live with it and synthesize it into the new us that emerges from the experience.....

I've sprawled out into deeper waters, and want to stay swimming safely in this smaller pool.... so, no homo. i guess, much like with women, we just need a "homo" rapper who through the sheer force of his will makes all the jokes and lines premised on intolerance, obsolete.


The Changing Face of Hip Hop Homophobia [Slate]

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Pour A Little Something: My Seersucker Shorts

My seersucker shorts died this week at the age of, oh, I don't know, 3 years or so from a fatal ink stain in the left-hand pocket, and further complications from the subsequent botched cleaning of "the stupid, stupid ink stain." 

My seersucker shorts were manufactured by esteemed proliferator of many things seersucker, Ralph Lauren. They were purchased, online, sometime in the summer of 2004 and fast became a TAN wardrobe staple prized for their multi-functional brand-insinuating brand of ghetto-preppy urban-panache. Like a cashmere hoodie, they represented the best in both style and function. Long a staple of historical southern fashion, seersucker is often associated with terms like old-white, white-stodgy, formal(white), and preppy. But at the turn of the century, as TANs expanded their haute horizons, the shorts proved to be an accessible point of entry for showing off your high-minded-yet-gritty sensibility. Tell a girl you only wear seersucker and Timz and she would have to come back to your place to see for herself. "Those seersucker shorts got me a lot of ass i wouldn't have gotten if i was wearing baggy jeans, " thought TAN while writing the obit on his blog. 

Now seersucker shorts (as well as the blazer) when worn by men-of-melanin are a symbol of reverse zeitgeist-engineering and cultural dynamism. Which is to say: they express the nuanced complexity of assimilation without all the big words. Simply stripes. *cough* My blue and white seersucker polo shorts are survived by my navy blue cargo polo shorts, my sky-blue khaki polo shorts, and my blue polo jeans. Despite being a frequent go-to in the clothing rotation they might not be replaced because too many other TANs are wearing seersucker.

NPR's Tell Me More: Talking the VMAs


During Sunday night's MTV Video Music Awards, Beyonce announced that she is expecting a baby, and Lady Gaga flipped her script. The event also went without a host and instead concentrated on musical performances. Host Michel Martin discusses the night with music critic and blogger Patrice Evans.

MTV VMAs Break Tradition [NPR]

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Seven Day Weeknd: Notes on a Mixtape

Earlier this year, the music world was batting its eyes and doing embarrassing pelvic grind moves to the music of the new darlings of R&B. Frank Ocean of Odd Future fame dropped his gem Nostalgia, Ultra in February. A few weeks later, the Weeknd (born Abel Tesfaye) made everyone peel their panties off with the first installment of his mixtape trilogy House of Balloons. Some were like, "Oooh, don’t look now, y’all, but this might be The Next Generation of R&B." From the primordial ooze of Twitter the term PBR&B (nice one) was coined. Some of the young traditional-minded connoisseurs of the genre were like, "I don’t know about all that hipster R&B, but it’s good music."


But that was the spring and now it’s the fall, where spring things go to die. Frank Ocean shed the cocoon of Odd Future, along with the underground stigma, when he got to spread his wings with royalty. He’s currently swimming good somewhere.

On Friday, The Weeknd, continued his run of sexy music for vampires with Thursday, the second part of his mixtape trilogy. The blogs and twitter were abuzz. I listened to it over the weekend but couldn’t get you these thoughts until right now. Aww XOXO.

Sunday: Labels, Why Again?
It’s been the case a for a while now that anyone hot is hot off that free download. “Respect first, then money — basic shit,” as Jadakiss said. Last week I swear I used to remember why labels existed. But now I think we’re getting close to only needing: Do you make music? Send me your links. Annnd Scene. That’s it. Oh, And PayPal and a secure server. The politics and bureaucracy of the label system are starting to outweigh its benefits. Ocean’s album was buried in a vault, and now after being released as a mixtape, is being reissued. Label fail. The-Dream, tired of red tape, is putting out his 1977 for free. I got $11.99 says that’s label fail (both Def Jam, btw). Lupe Fiasco started an online petition to stymie Atlantic’s label fail. Even the king of the label system, Jay-Z, said he's done. (The best thing he could do is a mixtape right now anyways. Another S. Carter collection would hit the spot.) Artist liberation, combined with pressure from itunes and amazon, has record labels on notice. Give me your money, stay out of my way.

Monday: American Psycho Music for 2011
Entourage used the Weeknd’s “High for This” in a recent trailer, and of course this is the music Entourage wishes it could use for its entire half hour. Coked-out, panties to the side, we all young, hot with money in here. Let’s party like we mean it. And whoever today’s Patrick Bateman from American Psycho is, he probably listens to this urban coke music at high volume when he’s having sex, while he’s working out (which is having more sex), and definitely while he’s tweeting after killing you.

(continued...)

Seven Day High: Notes on The Weeknd [Grantland]

Monday, August 08, 2011

Notes on Andover's Rap Video

Over at Grantland:

Last week, the Internet weighed in on "The Andover Song" with chuckles, snark, and furrowed-brow curiosity. The prevailing sentiment seemed to be: Let’s drag every bit of this video around a manicured lawn and play ultimate Frisbee over its carcass. Die, Andover rap video! Die!

But there are lessons to be learned here, ones valuable enough to be taught at a prep school. We can break the issues up into “Not a problem” and “This is a Problem."



1. Not a Problem: Earnest rap

The most immediate cringe-factor with this video is how earnest and cloying it is. But the “genre” of earnest rap (or “educated rap”), in itself, is not a problem. Overstuffed, too-literal rap suffers from a disconnect between teaching and being cool. Sort of like a history teacher putting on skinny jeans, a leather jacket, and aviators to teach you about Freddie Knuckles (that’s Nietzsche, btw). But the teacher is not the problem. It’s the execution.

We should encourage fearlessness when it comes to trying too hard. Earnest failures are the ones that count. If it comes from an authentic place, the execution can be worked on. The dude with the braces and Celtics shirt, well, if you can say “the school molds to everybody like a mattress pad” and not snort on yourself in the process, you’re probably a well-meaning, glass-half-full dude who should be given a chance to lose the braces and develop a sense of style. No less than Jay-Z, Eminem, and Kanye were mediocre emcees when they started. Why? Too earnest. Jay was an overzealous fast-rapper. Em was boring and just overwrought w/rhyme schemes. And Kanye, well, we know the story.

(CONTINUED ON GRANTLAND)

Watch the Diploma: Andover Rap Video [Grantland]

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Marry/F@#$/Kill: A Tribe Called Quest

Family, here's full disclosure: I have a very intimate relationship with the music of A Tribe Called Quest. When I was born, I requested "Push It Along" for my intro. My iBeeper plays "Skypager." My ex-girlfriend wore unitards with red and green ink blot patterns. (We broke up 'cause we both knew how it feels to be stressed out, stressed out. Also the unitard.) It's all single black male stalker-y enough to be considered a classic, classic, classic example of a … A date rape. ETC. ETC.

So suffice it to say a Tribe news cycle courtesy of Michael Rapaport's documentary Beats Rhymes & Life has meant nothing less than the chance to LIVE AGAIN! Forget Friends with Benefits, more like Tribe with Benefits, amirite? Doesn't the air itself have that extra little Luck of Lucien?

Maybe that's why we've decided to play Marry/F@#$/Kill with their catalog. All these emotions going through my body demand choices! If only so I can stop buggin' out, get a hold, and maybe set up a butter playlist for some peace of Mind Power. (Oh My God. What? It's just Youthful Expression, y'all. Let's keep it rollin.)

Here's what I'm thinking as the scenario for M/F/K Industry Rules 4081-4083:

Marry: is the song you can listen to forever-ever. (or wedding song)

F@#$: is the song you listen to once. Nice but no repeats. Thanks! (or sex song)

Kill: For better or worse you will never hear it again. (or murder song)

(In honor of the Tribe doc, we run through their catalog at Grantland, I kick things off with People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm (fun to type out!). While I'm here I'd like to take a moment to say: I'm sorry, Phife. I love you. It's nothing personal, just how the game is played....

Hollerrr (and click pic or link below)


M/F/K: A Tribe Called Quest [Grantland]

Saturday, July 09, 2011

My Conversation with Biz Markie

Many, many years ago I had a chat with Biz Markie. He had some situation going on with a girl he met on tour, so that dominated the conversation. Here's the transcript:

Biz: Have you ever met a girl that you tried to date, but a year to make love she wanted you to wait? 

TAN: a year? no way, that's ridiculous. 

Biz: Let me tell ya a story of my situation. I was talking to this girl from the u.s. nation

TAN: uh, ok, yeah I feel you, I've only messed with US girls too. But the foreign chicks do intrigue me... 

Biz: The way that I met her was on tour at a concert. She had long hair and a short miniskirt. 

TAN: So? Well, I guess it is better than short hair and a long skirt?

Biz: I just got off stage dripping, pouring with sweat. I was walking through the crowd and guess who I met? I whispered in her ear, "come to the picture booth, so I can ask you some questions to see if you're 100 proof" 

TAN: picture booth? 

B: I asked her her name, she said blah-blah-blah 

T: word. How'd she look? 

B: She had 9/10 pants and a very big bra 

T: holla! 

B: I took a couple of flicks and she was enthused. I said, how do you like the show? She said, I was very amused. I started throwing bass, she started throwing back mid-range But when I sprung the question, she acted kind of strange. 

T: What'd you ask her? 

B: Then when I asked, do ya have a man, she tried to pretend she said, "no I don't, I only have a friend."

T: oh dude, i don't know. that sounds a little sketchy ... 

B: Come on, I'm not even going for it. This is what I'm going to sing ... 

T: wait, you're gonna sing? 

B: You, you got what I need but you say he's just a friend And you say he's just a friend, oh baby you, got what I need but you say he's just a friend. But you say he's just a friend, oh baby you, got what I need but you say he's just a friend. But you say he's just a friend 

T: uhhhh ... 

B: So I took blah-blahs word for it at this time. I thought just having a friend couldn't be no crime. Cause I have friends and that's a fact, like agnes, agatha, jermaine, and jack. 

T: Agnes? Agatha? You maybe have one friend with those names, definitely not two.

B: Forget about that, lets go into the story. About a girl named blah-blah-blah that adored me. 

T: from what you've said, it didn't sound like she "adored" you. She said, "very amused?" who even says that?

B: So we started talking, getting familiar. Spending a lot of time so we can build a relationship, or some understanding. How its gonna be in the future we was planning. 

T: damn, you moving kind of fast son! 

B: Everything sounded so dandy and sweet. I had no idea I was in for a treat. 

T: word? 

B: After this was established, everything was cool. 

T: oh, ok. 

B: The tour was over and she went back to school. 

T: kinda young, huh? 

B: I called every day, to see how she was doing. Every time that I called her, it seemed something was brewing. I called her and a guy picked up, and then I called again. I said, yo, who was that? 

T: what'd she say? 

B: "oh, he's just a friend." 

T: nahh yo! 

B: Don't gimme that, don't even gimme that. yo bust this ... 

T: are you gonna sing again? 

B: You, you got what I need but you say he's just a friend And you say he's just a friend, oh baby you, got what I need but you say he's just a friend But you say he's just a friend, oh baby you, got what I need but you say he's just a friend But you say he's just a friend 

T: Why are you singing? Did someone say you can sing?! [pause] it is kind of catchy though... 

B: So I came to her college on a surprise visit. To see my girl that was so exquisite. 

T: Oh this is bad. surprise visits are never a good look. Also, a lot of hype for a 9/10 pants girl, just sayin'.  

B: It was a school day, I knew she was there. The first semester of the school year. 

T: good detective work!  

B: I went to a gate to ask where was her dorm. This guy made me fill out a visitors form. He told me where it was and I was on my way. To see my baby doll, I was happy to say. 

T: yo, I can't believe you went to her dorm. this is just some college girl who came to your show, right ...?

B: I arrived in front of the dormitory. Yo, could you tell me where is door three? 

T: ... it's also weird you had to fill out the form before getting to the dorm. such weird security. Was this NYU? 

B: They showed me where it was, for the moment. I didn't know I was in for such an event. So I came to her room and opened the door. Oh, snap! guess what I saw? 

T: what??!!? 

B: A fella tongue-kissing my girl in the mouth, I was so in shock my heart went down south. 

T: damn, that sucks. but at least he wasn't penis-sexing your girl in the butt! 

B: So please listen to the message that I say. Don't ever talk to a girl who says she just has a friend.  

T: word. 

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Long Live the Queen: 5 Shows for a Post-Oprah World

The latest on Grantland

You probably already know this, but I'm going to remind you anyway: Oprah Winfrey is big-time. Big. Time. She is a saint, an epoch, a tectonic-level mover-and-shaker. And I wouldn't need to tie a sentence around your finger about it except — get this — folks have been all "Post-Oprah" now that she's left a The Oprah Winfrey Show-sized black hole in daytime TV (RIP, crosses heart, pours mid-afternoon latte).

But peep: Jordan played ball in the post-Jordan era. And Obama runs the point in the post-Obama era. So, too, can Oprah hold court in the post-Oprah era. That's why nothing — nothing! — is chipping at the corners of my heart like this awkward sense that the collective culture at large is pooping on Oprah. Do not shake your head and tell me no. It's out there, I've seen it. I'd link except I don't want to point flashlights.

Oprah, dawg? We pooping on Oprah?

...continued...

Long Live the Queen [Grantland]

Monday, June 27, 2011

Sorry About Being Racist Before. I Know Better Now.

(Wonder how this cartoon would be updated for Post-Obama era... maybe the black character would stack up accomplishments, topped off with Osama's carcass, and get up on the platform that way. Then what would happen ???)

Courtesy of Amptoons; hat tip: Lucy StandUp

Friday, June 17, 2011

Will All the Girls Reading, Yes, You Three, Please Scrunch Together On One Side of the Subway Seat

This should probably be put up one one of my more nimble broadcast mediums, like twitter or tumblr, but I don't have one of those yet. In any event, I see this socio-spatial phenomenon happen every so often on the NYC transit system, and I always get a chuckle out of it. When I took this picture there was basically no one else on the train. Why doesn't someone move??? There's probably more to break down there; certainly something eerie the way they're all lined up with bags in their laps and books in their hand. Maybe this could be the female version of the Captain Morgan commercials where the guys do the elbow on the knee pose? I don't know, but I can't attend to the matter fully because I just got a package from amazon and now that it's opened I'm wondering if I should be thinking about that more: One could see that as "get-busy" tools. One could see it as a cry for help. One could see it as, oh, 750-800 cups of coffee without the brown tooth-polish and less another 100-200 pounds of soft-dookie irrigation (too soon?). Think I'm going to opt for the latter. no book deadline can stand up to the power of tan on no-doz, bwahahaha.

Interview With A Man Who Never Moves Into the Middle of the Train (Bastardo!)

you know 'em. I know 'em. When will these people not exist? Here's the interview:

TAN: So have you ever ridden in the middle of the car?

Stupid Man: No, actually I haven’t. It looks so scary and dangerous.

TAN: There are millions who ride in the middle of the subway car every day. What gives you such reason for pause?

Stupid Man: Well you never heard the story?

TAN: What story?

Stupid Man: The story about the man and daughter who rode in the middle of the subway car.

TAN: Um, no actually. Haven’t heard that story. Please tell us.

Stupid Man: Ok. I will..... but please stop calling me "stupid man."

TAN: Tell your story, or I will destroy you, punk.

Punk: fine...

~~~~
scene dissolve …
~~~~

We open inside of a NYC subway car. It is crowded, but there is an even distribution of people throughout the car. We close in on a father and daughter standing and talking in the middle of the car. The father is explaining to his daughter why thinking about others and being respectful is the thing to do. Being considerate. Being a nice person. Being aware. All good. We zoom in and listen in on their conversation:
For example, honey. You know when we cross the street, and how all the cars wait for us to pass? That is because they are being respectful of others. Theoretically. You remember that word, right honey? Thee-o-ret-ick-ally. Well theoretically, those cars could just fly straight at us and run us over and kill us.

Kill us daddy?

Yes, honey. Kill us. But because they are nice and respectful of others. And because we made laws. We get to cross the street safe and sound, and then go home and eat ice cream!!!

I like ice cream! Thee-o-ret-ick-ally.

No, honey. I think you definitely like ice cream.

Wednesday, June 01, 2011

TAN Will Not Be In The Next Lupe Fiasco Video



(my homey in this video is the same homey I mention in this old post about bailing on a lupe fiasco video. now he's doing commercials, getting his hollywood hustle on. take note, couch surfers. stay on your grizzly, and things can happen! all of us, lupe, myself, calkutta (waddup, c!) have experienced some evolution. some love. some attention. some scrilla. but I bet we're all also in the boat of feeling like we're just getting started. funny how that works. anyBoost, cool story brah, seeing someone you met along the road doing their thing.)

ORIGINAL:

So I have this guy staying with me, and he works at Atlantic, record label for Lupe Fiasco, artist behind the song Kick, Push. If my caucasian peeps have been slow getting up to speed on that, you might also know Lupe from Kanye's Touch The Sky.

So he lets me know they're shooting Lupe's video yesterday, and I could come down. Maybe get in the piece. Talk to some people. Etc. Etc. Ultimately, if you're living on the margins in NYC, and you're in this sort of business, these are the sorts of opportunities you pay the premium price for. To be where things are happening. And then see what happens. If you're not taking advantage then paying the NYC cost-of-living is silly.

But I think if you're an artist, it's easy to shy away from the "fandom" in such scenarios. I'm a fan of a lot of things, but the phrase "art over artists" has been repeating in my head the last year or two (not repeatedly, just off-and-on) and it means that I really admire, worship, idolize the art, not the artist. The product/track, not the producer. I could care less about Apple, but I love my ibook. It's not the individual creator, because we're all the same. It's their particular creation. Meeting Lupe Fiasco is cool, but if he's not going to perform Kick, Push for me, it's kind of like whatever. Same odds of me getting along with him apply to anyone (those odds are reasonably good by the way).

Her Name Is Paris, Mrs. Jackson If You're Nasty


This photo. Still an insta-TAN classic. I don't want a celebrity-hollywood machine if we can't make THIS happen:

1. I don't think they look bad together. Like sometimes an interracial couple looks a little forced and affirmative-actioney. Like the cornfields of Nebraska girl holding hands with a harlem hood type ... that's questionable. But these two, not so bad. Young, sophisticated, urban ... we can work with this.

2. I love the name Paris Jackson. That's hot. I might name my child that regardless (no MJ). Curtis Hilton's not so bad either.

3. Professional synergy. They're both incredibly good at what they do: culture exploitation. Hmm, doesn't sound as bad if we call them... business-people? Brand-builders? But seeing them together makes one realize how much 50 is in Paris, WOOPSY, but you know what I mean. She's not an artiste. Neither is 50, by his own admission. They're kindred spirits in f-that-artiste-shit, awww. And of course neither of them is stupid, and they could potentially helm a tremendous entertainment/marketing company/brand thingamajig. bullet-proof hotels. rapping chiuauas. all that.

4. and OOOMG, look how cute they are! Look how happy he makes her! Look how intent and focused he is. They're adooorable. Maybe this was just a second, and the affection isn't genuine but, awwww. It's like lolcats for interracial couples or something. I could stare at these two forever. And I could totals see her bungling up breakfast for the family -- she's trying! -- and kissing 50 before he goes off to work etc. We want these two for our new Leave it to Beaver model modern family.

5. They'd probably make/leak a pretty good sex tape. I'm not really into them myself (seriously!), but I hear a lot of people like those.

6. Their children would be .... interesting to see how they turn out.

Anydream ... these pics are a little old, but I'm really rooting for this to happen. I once made that photo my blog header for a while. I'm waiting for an update, since there's nothing more TAN than these two ...


Oh, the news here was 50 is interviewing Paris at Sundance or something
[Page Six]

Friday, May 27, 2011

Overcompensating at the Condom Factory

(Even post-rapture the lord continues to forsake me when I'm drunk. and has yet to weigh in on the proper size of condoms)

ORIGINAL:

From the BBC:
"A survey of more than 1,000 men in India has concluded that condoms made according to international sizes are too large for a majority of Indian men."

awwww. Gives a whole new meaning to "Slumdog Millionaire", doesn't it? Oh wait, actually it doesn't do that at all.

It does mean, though, that the "majority of Indian men" don't have enough burger for comely Indian-American model/meat-eater Padma Lakshmi.



AnyHardee, yeah, maybe that's not true either, but it turns out getting the specs on these "condoms" the kids are all raving about is a tricky business. In India they're too small, but over in South Africa, *cough*, they have a different problem. All of this is racist, but apparently true!

Also, it makes me think that maybe average-size isn't so bad. Also also reminds me of that poem, "footprints in the sand". I had a similar experience, you see, where I dreamed of walking the beach with the Lord, and all the love-scenes from my life flash across the sky, and I notice footprints, sometimes one pair, sometimes two. And seeing that saddened me because I noticed that I'd see two footprints when i was sober, or when i had a girlfriend, but whenever I'd get drunk and out of control i'd only see one. And I asked the Lord, "why do you forsake me when I'm drunk??! that's when i need you most" And he/she replied, "it's true, I do get the f out of dodge when you get drunk. You're sort of an insufferable knowitall. But look again at the sand, because when I leave you i give you a little extra to work with in my absence."


footsteps image: via
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