Fatty fatwa

From the showing-up-on-the-radar dep’t: The Colbert Report, a Daily Show spinoff, satirizes religious outrage:

My fatwa was issued by certain religious leaders because… I happened to say that Halloween was a better holiday than Romadon…

After I slammed Gandhi for his eating disorder, the Hindus came after me with an eight-armed Sheeva squeeze…

I got the Dolly Lama to take a punch at me just because I said Boodism is a religion for chubby chasers…

Nazi pope Benedict the 16th wanted to excommunicate me just because I called him a Nazi pope.

(The names are spelled the way he pronounced ’em .)

That’s not a Shiva image I recognize, though maybe it’s a style I’m unfamiliar with. The reference strikes me as a bit Temple of Doom-ish — Americans make a beeline for death cults. But hey, a funny mention is better than no mention. Watch the video.

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Religious weaponry (updated)

Saffronists are distributing trishuls (tridents), a Shiva symbol, in Rajasthan:

The government in the western Indian state of Rajasthan says it will closely monitor the distribution of a traditional religious symbol by Hindu hardliners… According to the VHP, over 75,000 tridents have been distributed by the Hindu hardliners in the last year causing concern to the state government. [Link]

The purpose seems both electoral and nefarious:

In neighbouring Gujarat, more than 1,000 people died last year in violence between Hindus and Muslims… Hindu activists say they have distributed more than 70,000 tridents (trishuls) in Rajasthan in recent months. One Hindu activist, Mahavir Prasad, said all able-bodied Hindus would be given self-defence training as the state government could not guarantee their safety. [Link]

Right, Hindus, who outnumber Muslims twelve-to-one in Rajasthan, need to stock mΓƒΒͺlée weaponry at home. Purely for self-defense, you see.

But if we’re getting into avatar weaponry, give me a first-person shooter with a full armory. I want Parashurama‘s wikkid axe, Hanuman‘s berserker mace and Vishnu‘s self-levitating chakra. Give me multiple arms, a snake capable of churning the oceans and Garuda as a mount, and I’ll be pretty much invincible. As long as you don’t catch me in the twilight hour

Updated: I wonder whether the trishuls being handed out are purely symbolic, like most Sikh kirpans, or actually functional weapons. And if functional, can you imagine if churches handed out free handguns to, say, Episcopalians? Arms race! Normally the only religion I wouldn’t worry about is Buddhism, but then some crazy mofos uncorked a hand grenade at a Sri Lankan concert last year.

Oy vey. If having batleths is Klingon, only Klingons will have batleths.

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I Heart Our Readers: SF Meetup Wrap-up

Oct 30 meetup.JPG

The verdict was unanimous;’twas the best meetup EVER. Photographic evidence of that here.

October 30th, 2005, San Francisco: four current SM bloggers and six Bay Area mutineers met at North Beach’s yummy, caffeinated, iconic, no-worries-no-matter-HOW-long-we-stayed Caffe Greco and didn’t leave for six hours. Well, it was SEVEN for a certain guest blogger who forgot that daylight savings time commenced at 2, on Sunday. πŸ˜‰ Hey–that’s what she gets for being so unbrown, i.e. on time. Had she been the standard I.S.T.-mandated hour late, she still would’ve been on time, except this time, with the rest of us. πŸ˜‰

I attempted to live-blog the merriment, like I did the last time it was held in San Francisco; sadly, an unexpected lack of wireless prevented that. Forgive me for making you wait 48 hours? πŸ™‚

Unpolished transcript, after the jump… Continue reading

Eelam Idol

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a guerrilla group in possession of a national flower, must also be in want of a national anthem. The Tamil Tigers, having selected the poisonous Gloriosa Lily as their national flower last year, are now holding a contest for a new patriotic song. [Since 1990 they’ve been raising their flag to the appropriately titled “Look the Flag is Rising”]

Tamil Tiger rebels in Sri Lanka are advertising for “bards and minstrels with patriotic fervour” to write a catchy national anthem. The anthem should “symbolize the history of our struggle and victories to future generations,” the rebel statement says.

The lyrics should extol the “virtues of those who sacrificed their lives in Tamil struggle, celebrate the unique qualities of exclusiveness and resourcefulness of the Tamil homeland, and manifest the resoluteness, dedication and the aspirations of the Tamil people for freedom and dignity.”

“It should contain 18 lines – catchy and lively and in immaculate Tamil.”

Budding poets have until 27 November, “Tamil Eelam Martyrs Remembrance Day”, to come up with a suitable anthem. [Link]

Personally, I think that they’re missing an important opportunity here. Not only should the anthem be catchy and lively, but the entire process of anthem selection should also be appositely hip. To that end, I suggest the creation of Eelam Idol, a TV show designed to ensure that the resulting anthem is the people’s favorite. Hosted by MIA, Simon Cowell and a high Tamil Tiger official, the three judges could offer ascerbic commentary on the performances of the singer songwriters who volunteer to perform their proposed new version of the national anthem. The show would get killer ratings, both in Jaffna and abroad, and the new anthem would instantly top the charts! Guys, if you’re reading this, the idea is yours gratis. No really, there’s no need to meet for lunch …

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55Friday: The “Why Does it Always Rain on Me?” edition

Oh my. Usually, at this moment, I’m sitting in bed dumbfounded because it’s 3am on what I still consider Thursday (midnight never felt like a commencement, to me). Where were we? Oh yes. I was imagining where I normally type this post from– my bed, in front of Degrassi vintage, with the sound off. I’d be staring off in to space, concomitantly shocked and agog because yes, it’s ALREADY time to write and read nanofiction where does the time go blah blah blah.

But TODAY. Today, I am not doing that. Today, I am in California, in my Mother’s new home, where there is no nimble cable modem. There is no DSL. There isn’t even a local phone line hooked up yet, for me to try…(gag) DIAL-UP. So what could I do? I grimly did what I had to: I went, in search of the interweb.

Kinko’s? Closed. What kind of a Kinko’s CLOSES? Seriously! This blows, because I was quite fond of using “Kinko’s” as a synonym for “24 hours”. Beyond that tiny language tragedy, everywhere else? Um, this is the suburbs, so there IS no everywhere else to try. So get this– I’m borrowing wireless from my fave indie coffee place, because lucky for me (AND YOU) they didn’t switch it off like they usually do when they CLOSE.

I’m in a rainy parking lot, typing like a freak, the iBook’s brightness turning my face a not very divine shade of blue. Why? Because I love you and I love this weekly thing we do. When I commit, I commit. After we had moved the last few boxes to the new house, my mother was aghast when I told her during a dinner we were both to tired to eat, that I’d need to have a nocturnal adventure, in search of the net.

“But internet is coming tomorrow. Noon, I made an appointment with the phone company. Can’t it wait? Your friends will understand?”

“My FRIENDS (read: co-bloggers) will. My readers will be disappointed. Besides, I started this, so I have no excuse. Phone lines or not, the mutiny must go on.”

She nodded somberly at me and told me to try not to get lost. If you were previously unaware, I have the coolest Mother EVER. That doesn’t mean she isn’t strict– if I had said that I felt like going out for a martini, HA. If I had said that I felt like a movie, no dice. But stating that I needed…to…blog? Moms has her priorities straight, yo. πŸ˜‰ Continue reading

Lost in Translation

India Uncut points us at a series of fun blog posts over at Minor Scale.   Manoj has translated some choice South Indian film songs into anglais.  Most translations are just text but this one had pix and made me smile.   Next time some cultural elitist snob rants about how every piece of media was better in the original Tamil, Uyghur or !Xóá, I’ll point ’em here –

SBC 03  SBC 04 

Proof that if you can’t have the pix, some folks really do listen to the lyrics.

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Behold, the Power of Onions

theeyal.jpg I seem to be the Mutiny’s resident “protest publicist”, so why should today be any different? Join the BJP tomorrow (today?) in Delhi as they take to the streets to express their outrage over the latest issue to grip India (Thanks, Usamidalla):

Harsh Vardhan, a leader of the opposition Bharatiya Janata party (BJP) in New Delhi, accused traders of limiting onion sales to profit from Dussehra and Deepawali festivals. Onion are an important ingredient in almost everything eaten during both festivals. “An artificial scarcity of onion has been created by traders in connivance with the governing Congress party government,” the Press Trust of India quoted Mr Vardhan as saying.

I wish I could be more sympathetic, but as long-time HERstorians are aware, I HATE ONIONS. I pick them out of my food, no matter how microscopically my mother thinks she’s chopping them; this is usually a futile endeavor though, since they inevitably leave their odious taste among the innocent vendaka and pavaka (read: bhindi and karela) who surely deserve better than such a slimy compatriot. So yeah. I won’t be at the protest. πŸ˜‰

Apparently, I should take the many-layered vegetable more seriously. Not only can it make you cry if you’re chopping it, it can make you cry as it gives YOU the chop:

Onion shortages in India were responsible for bringing down BJP governments in New Delhi and Rajasthan states in 1998.

Amazing.

In several parts of India, onions were trading at double the price of the previous week.

Obviously, in solidarity with her erstwhile countrymen, my mother should refrain from using ooly in her legendary cooking when I go home for almost two weeks on Thursday. It’s the right thing to do, no? πŸ˜‰ Continue reading

Blue Friday: 55

Already?

Please understand, I’m not complaining, I’m just astonished. Very well, then. Today is Friday and that means it is time to write (and read) nanofiction. I’ve become fond of this little ritual of ours, even if it seems to make the week go by far too quickly. πŸ˜‰

I am elated by the amount of thought, effort and cleverness you are all displaying in our humble comments section. What some of you can fit in a mere 55 words is astounding and delightful– each piece of nanofiction tastes like a well-crafted truffle which leaves me sightless out of joy, as I savor the supple flavors.

Enough with my fawning all over you future-Salmans-and-Jhumpas, let’s get on with it!

Like last week, my title for this post is borrowed from a song–and this is no ordinary song…’twas one of my absolute faves when I was a moody teen–“Blue Monday” by New Order. Am I sad? No, but it’s so kind of you to be concerned. I’m “blue” because I thought I’d add an extra pinch of curry leaves to my weekly lit sabzi.

Today, boys and girls, ladkas and ladkis, adas and edis, we have a theme. Cease with that grumbling at once! This is just a suggestion for you to consider as you contribute your usual morsels of genius. I must say though, “blue” is a rather expansive starting point, if you’re in the mood for a little extra writing-bondage.

After the jump: my top three… Continue reading

Apu’s got a blog!

When I read Anna’s recent post on the desi celebrity blogger of the moment, the comments of Chick Pea and Jai Singh caught my eye:

what’s next… apu and manjula’s blog from the kwik-e-mart life?

That would be a fantastic idea for another new-topic thread here on SM — we could all just keep adding fictitious “diary entries” by Apu. Manish, Abhi etc — do you guys want to make this happen ? I think it would be a lot of fun and potentially hilarious too.

Inspired by their comments, I decided to scour the internet to determine if that most redoubtable of Indian-American television celebrities, Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, was indeed a blogger.  And, um, turns out he is.  (Sorry if that was anticlimactic.) 

Of course, it’s possible that the aforelinked blog was not actually written by Apu, but rather by some sort of sick Apu impersonator.  In which case, would the real Apu Nahasapeemapetilon please stand up?  Please stand up?  Please stand up? 

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Hottest Brown Blogger EVER?

cineblitzaug05.jpgSadly, no mutineer can claim that distinction now that this Bonny lass is blogging.

Like Gogol before her, Bipasha has found a new way to concomitantly combat boredom and promote her new flick. I know, I know. It’s not a “real blog”. It’s a PR stunt. Still, her first post received 186 comments. Watch out darling Ennis, your record may not stand… πŸ˜‰

Being a star is HARD:

In the past, IÂ’ve had some very ugly experiences in Jaipur — people wanting to touch, wanting to be physically nearÂ…
IÂ’m very scared of the mob-like mentality of the people.

Good thing she didn’t have that problem while making this phill-um. Another problem she didn’t have? A sore kundi from sitting in the makeup chair for hours. Continue reading