Category Archives: Humor

You know everything’s changed when…

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You know everything’s changed when you see a black kid wearing this throwback varsity jacket on the subway and realize that…

  1. After 7/7, you could never wear it on the subway, and

  2. Subway cops are now inaccurately suspicious more of you than of him
Fritz Pollard formed this African-American football team ([New York Brown Bombers], named for African-American heavyweight boxer Joe Louis) after the NFL adopted a policy of segregation. [Link]

… the Brown Bombers [were] a professional team that played in Harlem for three highly successful seasons – funded by a loan from John D. Rockefeller Jr., a friend from Pollard’s days at Brown. The Bombers’ roster was a Who’s Who of black athletes at the time, including players from basketball and baseball leagues as well as former NFL stars. The Depression and the war ended the Brown Bombers’ run in 1938. [Link]

By the way, the Brown Bombers jacket is not actually a bomber jacket, and the Brown Bombers are not the same as the Bronx Bombers, the Brooklyn Bombers or the London bombers.

Related post: Worst timing ever

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55Friday: The Lupercalia Edition

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A few shame-spiral-filled weeks pass and the prodigal blogger returns. My apologies for not giving you a space and reason to play— an especially regrettable fault, since the last nanofiction orgy inspired some of my favorite 55s ever, as you wrote miniature matrimonials for yourself and others.

One-time SM guest-rockstar Cicatrix was two for two with her dead-on impressions of certain boys we know:

Mysterious pajamahadeen, muscular yet partial to velvet, seeks wheatish girl for soulful rocketblogging sessions. Must be fluent in Unix, C++, Perl, DHTML and more. Lissome, long-haired, and bra must match panties at all times. Jewel-toned clothing preferred. Implanted microchips a plus. Come let your airport meet my wifi, as I bathe you in rosewater…my Padma. [link]
Open-minded parents seek adventurous girl for rocket-scientist son. Must have beauty and wiles of Sita to draw son away from this blogging plogging nonsense. Must be outdoorsy since he likes to hanky panky on campsites, hiking trails, zero-G flight simulators, the moon. Must also be ready for a three-way with Paul Krugman should opportunity arise. [link]

Meanwhile, over in the Ewe Kay, Jai was making me (and countless others) swoon…as if that’s novel:

Roguish-but-charming professional North Indian guy seeks equally saucy girl with a good heart for lots of naughty, borderline-illegal fun and potential marriage. Romantic fool at heart, much more sidha than he pretends to be. Woman must be smart, sexy, kind, and look great from all angles in low-rise skinny-fit jeans. No gold-diggers, social-climbers, or neurotics. [link]

Finally, Desi Dude in Austin got a wee bit of snark in at the end of his 55; I sincerely hope he ends up with someone like me, just to make things interesting. 😉

Well educated Indian Boy, likes to read and cook, needs a bad Indian Girl with a taste for bad movies and good wine. Must be willing to put up with disorder and the occasional wild partying. Also, must be able to act coy before in-laws and ridiculously large extended family. Must like MIA only in moderation. [link]

This week? Since I’m an established quirkyalone, I propose a black take on cupid, a scathing flash of fiction about the needless fetishization of couple hood, a snide dissection of the pink holiday which rapidly approaches. Of course you are welcome to write about anything your precious, candy-filled dil desires; kindly leave it or a link to it in the comments below. We’ll heart the results, promise. Continue reading →

In the Land of the Arizoni

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In case you missed cliche-ridden, inaccurate and hackneyed writing, my little sister hooks you up with some more– a LOT more (thanks, Veena).

Apparently, a goth belly dancing teacher who also loves participating in renn-faires has conceived, choreographed and executed a Bolly-flavored show in the state represented by the greatest Senator in the U.S. That’s cool– mad love to any gori who loves the brown enough to be down (shout out to our Andrea, who sings in Hindi so beautifully) but the…erm…journalist who wrote this article? I sentence him to a meeting between his ear and my super-vindictive fingers.

From the Phoenix New Times:

Once upon a time (okay, about a month ago), there was a woman named Samantha Riggs who so loved Hindi films (otherwise known as Bollywood, India’s global cinematic export) that she staged a tribute, Bollywood Love Rules…
The lead character of Riggs’ production, Varsha, floated across the stage cradling an oil lamp, which signified her love, and she and her chorus danced in complex formations to a deep, resonant beat, wiggling their hips and snapping their wrists with the attitude of the best Bollywood dancers in all the world.

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Ready for the most egregious paragraph? I’m not. And I’ve already read it. Twice. Deep breath

Now, one might think Samantha Riggs and her ensemble cast must be of Indian heritage. But, in reality, their pale faces reveal they’re just a bunch of American girls, more like goth chicks than the daughters of goat herders from Delhi. Bollywood Love Rules would likely be a smash hit back in India. As it is, onstage at the Scottsdale Center for the Arts on a night in early January, the hundreds in the audience — some Indians, some not — don’t seem to care that they’re not in the land of the Punjabi.

Kindly excuse the vein popping out of my forehead and we may commence. FIRST of all, I’m an American girl too, asshole. I think what you meant was, “the performers are not desi”. SECOND, I know dozens of people from Delhi, some of whom I am closely related to– and none of them, family or not, herd goats. Finally (not really, but for the purposes of this paragraph, sure why not) those Arizonans don’t seem to care that they’re not in the land of the PunjabiS, BengaliS, KashmiriS, GujuratiS, MalayaleeS. Tell me, my trite friend, where is the Land of the Punjabi? Is it in the same nation as the Land of the Malayalam? Continue reading →

Coconut Express

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The Oriya coconut distribution network reminds me of the tiffinwallas of Bombay (via Boing Boing). It’s a marvel of Indian efficiency:

Smashing coconuts in Malaysia

Hold a coconut in your hand on a highway in Orissa and the next bus will surely stop to pick it up to take it to the temple… Even if the bus is on a different route, the driver will make sure to drop the coconuts in a collection box en route or pass them on to a bus headed for Ghatgaon…

They tell stories of bus drivers who failed to pick up coconuts from devotees and met with engine failures or accidents. “No one can refuse to carry a coconut,” says shop owner Rabindra Patnaik. The buses usually dump their coconuts in collection boxes across the state, from where other buses or devotees headed to the temple pick up them up on their final journey…

At the busy temple, priests take turns to break the coconuts in front of the deity. A few hundred coconuts find the place near the deity’s feet, and the rest of them are sold cheaply to local shop owners. This has spawned a local coconut-based sweets and oil industry. [Link]

Besides religion, desis spread at least two things efficiently: fresh food and hot gossip. It’s no surprise that desis are at the forefront of networking technology. Hey, Internet2? I fart in your general direction.

Billo’s bindi

The Auntie-ji Pre-Crime Network is so fast, it predicts things before they happen and never hesitates to tell you so.

The Coconut Express has also had a huge influence on the rock scene in India. The sad fate of the broken fruit inspired alt.rockers Smashing Coconuts, fronted by lead singer Billo Kurugan. Their hit single ‘Sharaab Rakh‘ was a seminal influence on a new genre called cocotechno, inspiring performers like the No-Sex-Before-Marriage Pistols, the Beejis, Bob Dhillon and Elvis Singh:

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The standard opening line

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The standard opening line for a desi comedian in the U.S. is to get up and tell people s/he’s desi. You don’t see black comedians getting up and saying, ‘Hi, my name is David, and I’m black.’ They can see you, they can see your name, it’s a given.

And the standard first joke is a desi joke so lame that even Hollywood wouldn’t touch it today. Here’s comedian Rahul Siddharth’s opening joke at a NYC show (watch clip):

‘Papa, are we really Indian? How can you be so sure?’

[In horrible Indian accent] ‘[Because] your mother wears a red dot, and I sound like a Muppet!’

I’m all for supporting the brothas, but how about the brothas supporting us? If that’s your kind of humor, he’s doing a show tonight, and please don’t come near me

In all fairness, a friend of mine says the rest of the show is pretty good. It’s just that once I choke on an appetizer, I don’t stay for dessert.

Related posts: Veezher, Russell Peters strikes again, Russell Peters show online, Paul Varghese delivers on ‘Last Comic Standing’: God’s own comedy, God’s own comedy

Rahul Siddhartha and Vijai Nathan, ‘Don’t Tell Mamas,’ Friday, Feb. 3, 8pm, 343 W. 46th St., Manhattan, $20

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Anatomy of a List

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Every year, the men’s website askmen.com releases a list of the 99 hottest celebrities on this planet. Millions of people vote to pick their favorite celebrity, and men the world over are more interested in the results of this poll than ones that pick the majority leader in the House of Representatives. I know, men are shallow. However, I am not one of those men. I care. I am also against the crass commercialization of women. But sometimes, one has to make sacrifices for the sake of an audience, and so this year, I am setting aside my usual apathy to take on the unpleasant task of scouring the list for hot desi women.

There is something in this post for everyone, though: the righties can be indignant about the clothes these women wear; the lefties can fume about the list being predominantly white. The others can gawk.

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Almost underneath their robes

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Part of Sepia Mutiny’s hidden agenda (we have never published our actual mission or spoken of the Machiavellian designs that drive us) has been to develop an influential and well placed system of CIs that will help our collective Mutiny to spread in both numbers and power (but especially in power). I have taken the liberty of modifying former U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno’s formal definition of a “CI” for those of you unfamiliar with this term:

“Confidential Informant” or “CI” — any individual who provides useful and credible information to a JLEA Sepia Mutiny regarding felonious criminal interesting desi-related activities, and from whom the JLEA Sepia Mutiny expects or intends to obtain additional useful and credible information regarding such activities in the future. [Link]

Basically this means that we want to encourage SM readers to send us the “goods” or the “dirt” on happenings that we don’t yet know about. Want me to give you an example of what kind of CIs that we are seeking out? SM reader Venkat of BTD gives us a heads up about some interesting developments at the Supreme Court. Three of the incoming Supreme Court Clerks are desi:

Scalia: Hashim Mooppan (Harvard ’05/Luttigator ’05-’06)… [Link]

Ginsburg: Arun Subramanian (Columbia ’04/Jacobs ’04-’05/G. Lynch ’05-’06) [Link]

Breyer: Thiru Vignarajah (Harvard ’05/Calabresi) [Link]

These three make ideal CIs. I am reaching out to them. If you know them then forward this on. We can be very discreet. Dead drops could be arranged in random parks by a variety of means. I have had pleasant dealings with clerks from lower federal courts before. Just ask around. We know that in the coming term the Supreme Court will be dealing with many cases involving desis, or with definite importance to the desi community. These three could maybe keep us up to speed on things.

The Drudge Report broke the Monica Lewinsky scandal before major media outlets did. We want SM to break more news also. That is where we need YOU dedicated reader. Are you in a position of power or influence and are just dying to share something you know, or stick it to the man? Do you work for some government agency or powerful corporation that doesn’t appreciate you enough? We appreciate you. Think of me as your very friendly case officer. The agent Vaughn to your agent Bristow. Will some real CIs please stand up?

[Disclaimer: For the record, I am not advocating that you break any laws, at least if they get me in trouble also…or if they get me subpoenaed, because I don’t think I could last in jail very long to protect you as my source. I would really try to though…unless they put me in a cell with some guy named “Tiny” who really isn’t.]

See related posts: The “Devils” Advocates, The Court has Hindu friends, …then you can’t have our money, Orwellian logic

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Oy, I’m Getting Farklempt…

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Tawk amongst yourselves. I’ll give you a topic.

The Mutiny is neither mute nor tiny, discuss.

Fine, you want that I should give you another topic? Discuss what’s…below. 😉

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Yeah, I’ll BET it’s “easy to take home”. Oh, it’s just too easy to keep going with this…[Thanks, Dinesh] Continue reading →

Hrithik is ALL Yours, t.

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While roaming about online, I came across a blog which quoted us– nothing scintillating, I know– but then I noticed the blog’s name: Beliefs, Blackness & Bollywood. The subtitle elaborates:

I talk about faith. I talk about the black experience in America. I talk about Bollywood. You’re welcome to join in.

If that weren’t enough to make me linger, I noticed that a few of her posts had irresistible titles. The finest of the bunch? “Just because you have 3 THUMBS doesn’t mean you’re not HOT…” Under THAT priceless declaration, blogger t.Hype ponders:

The question is not, “Is Hrithik hot?” The question is, “Would I scream in his face if he tried to shake my hand, or burst out crying?”

Excellent question, t. For the record, I’d probably do a triple-take if he tried to test my ex-debater grip. But then, subtlety thy name shall never be ANNA. 😉

She found the way to Bombay after a trying break-up:

It was around this time I discovered Bollywood. I suddenly found myself able to appreciate a movie like Dil Se. It is a story of heartbreak and a story of love. Melodrama aside, the film Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham impacted me deeply by the very idea that someone would ever go to such great lengths to bring their family back together. While I realize these are just films, they are based in an ideal, in a consciousness that organizes itself around love. In the words of India Arie, “I am ready for love.” At least for now I have Bollywood.

Follow her thoughts here; see her nod in agreement with erstwhile guest blogger Amardeep on the subject of unrealistic-looking Bollywood stars here. Continue reading →