‘if I were a man, I’d be in the boy’s club, I would be so masculine, I’d conquer all the ladies with force or gallantry, I’d hold you in my arms just so that you could hold me, if I were a man, if I were a man I’d like to meet somebody like me’

This blog post title is brought to you by the song If I Were a Man by Andrea Menard. I like this song because I sometimes think that if I were a man, I would like to meet someone like me also. If I were a man, I would also read about how India is among the top five worst places for women and be like hahaha bitches and I'd also be superglad that I’m a man. Anyway, this song is on the Queer as Folk series soundtrack. I like a lot of songs from that show. I also like Gale Harold from that show. 

This is Gale Harold shaking his head.

GIFSoup

This is the Fuck Yeah Gale Harold tumblr

This is Surya in Singam which has nothing to do with Gale Harold whatsoever.


GIFSoup

And now, because this is a blog that likes to get whiny about inauthenticity, privilege and white people, this is where we stop talking about Gale Harold and Surya and start talking about how the Gay Girl in Damascus is not even gay, not even a girl and not even in Damascus. Even though this well-intentioned little oopsie has made things worse for the real LGBTQ bloggers in Syria, Mr. MacMasters is real sorry yougaiz. And I think it's way clear from his awesome nonapology that he just HAD to pretend to be a gay girl in Damascus because no one listens to straight, white dudes who are possibly the most disenfranchised, oppressed and voiceless people in the world. They can’t even get on those awesomebook lists people keep putting out because those lists are like OVERFLOWING with colored women of exotic sexual orientations. It’s like a big queer uterus festival. POOR STRAIGHT WHITE DUDES!!111 Who will listen to their words? Who will read their books? Because there was supposed to be a book, like a memoir typething which you can read all about at Minal Hajratwala’s blog. And here is an excerpt from said fictionmemoirtypething.

-Now, Hajj Musa tried to take Nashqua to his bed for she enraptured him. She refused him, saying that, though she was a servant now, she had been born free in her own land and was of an ancient noble lineage; if he would have her, he would need first to ask for her hand and do all things properly. She was no slave and would be no man’s doxy.-

Ok. Let us now move on to other nondoxy things because that little excerpt made me feel somewhat also. SoAnywaiz, the peepal at Blaft updated their blog. This is something they don’t usually do and when they do, it’s sometimes about invertebrates or slogans people write on children’s clothing like hai! American Express CutieSweetie. This time, Blaft posted about this.

*sniff* Sorrygaiz. I read this and I just think of Mrs. Mortimer and the tears flow like Mother Ganga down my third world Indian face. Anywaiz, this rhyme is like the most Indian thing evar yougaiz. Seriously. You go to some Indian house in India filled with Indian children and their Indian parents say ‘RHYMES SOLLU!!’ and these Indian children open their Indian mouths and talk about having blue eyes and being VERYfair. Then you turn to the Indian parents and say what the fuck yougaiz? And the Indian parents smile fullpridetypes and shrug and click their teeth and say ‘oh it’s just a rhyme!’ and they generally beam at you like they just diarrheaed thousand rupee notes all over the floor.

Is it weird that Indian children in 2011 are still reciting nursery rhymes that were all the rage in England in the 18^th century? Of course not! Watte crapnonsense you are talking! We are Indians! We ADORE 18^th century English things, especially if they are racist. If at any moment you feel uneasy about this fuckwitted piece of poesy, kindly restore your Indianess and sense of balance by remembering the following-

1. One should never get emotional about simple nurseryrhyme when in India so many poor people are dying and women are wearing pants and doing slutwalks, thus eroding our Indian culture and causing foreign media to write negatively about us, saying we are the fourth worst country in the world for women when we are A-1 country jaihind!111
2. It’s not like nursery rhymes are made of words. And even if they were, it’s not like these words have any meaning. And even if they do, it’s not like a little kid is going to understand anything anyway because little kids are stupid. (I have found that this is often followed by 'Don’t you dare say the word ‘stupid’ around my kids or I will kill your face.')
3. It is very important for our teaching methods and literature to remain rooted in the 18^th century because that was just a really great time to be alive and it is the only way for our country to grow and prosper in 2011. Also, as I said earlier, kids are stupid.
4. So many people in this country have learned this rhyme as a child and all of them now have best friends 'who are dark'. This is because at the tender age of three, these awesome people were like ‘I might be wagging my head and going ‘curly hair, VERY fair’ but I KNOW bitches be trippin’ ya’ll. Who ya finna try, who ya finna try, who ya finna? I bet it ain't me, I bet it ain't me bitch.’

You know what’s neat tho? One of the excerpts from the aforementioned NonGay NonGirl’s TotallyNotLivingInDamascus’ memoirbooktypething is

‘The whole time, I was noticing how mature and pretty she was; long, wavy golden hair tied up in a bun, bright blue eyes, an almost pinkish face and a woman’s body, just the way that I wished that I looked.’

It’s the teacher’s pet yougaiz! She grew up into hot blondehairedblueeyed woman and- actually, you know what? I’m sorry. Because these two things have absolutely nothing to do with each other and I just went and connected them in such an irresponsible way and I’m just so sorry yougaiz. As a white dude from Finland, I shouldn’t even be writing about this stuff. So let us leave you with

Mr. Timn The Milkman 

Mr. Timn in Candy- Land 

French and Saunders Reading a Madonna Interview  (there are too many awesome lines here. TOO MANY)

okbaiyougaiz

from here

'Opulence. You own everything. Everything is yours.'

This blog post is a line taken from the documentary Paris is Burning and you can see the line in all its opulence here. I like to remember this line when I write because I feel like it’s a great thing to write like I just own everything. And when I've written something phenomenally fail, which happens a lot, I still give myself one of those diva pats on the cheek because it's like whatever bitches, at least when I wrote it, I owned everything. 

Natural segue into RuPaul

stolen from here

I feel like this season is just not delivering as many amazing lines as the other seasons. I could barely keep track of the amazing lines during Season 2 and Season 1 gave us that one epic line 'I don't see you walking children in nature' which sort of wins everything. Anyway. Fav lines from this ‘sode. 

Girl! My tuck!

We're giving fierce, jazzercise realness

Kate Gosselin, she learned this and then she loaned me this hair.

1, 2, 3, 4, I don't want that whore no more

What the hell is she thinking? You can't be lifting up drag queens!

(k- Fur realz, wtf? this is not WWF! This is not The Rape of the Sabine Women! You are not carrying drunk girls home! Wtf?)

Two neat things. One, Mubarak finally said ‘Well, FINE! I’m GOING!’ and went. Isn't that nice? Two, Daisy Rockwell at Bookslut did a nice write-up of some Blaft books including onenumber book that I wrote also. Which is rad.

Two fuckwitted things. Now the thing is, I can’t decide which one is the Great Big Awesome Winner of Fuckwit. So I thought I’d do a little contest type thing for myself and by myself and then decide accordingly. Let's do this Clue-style, shall we?

1. Amar Singh At The Press Conference With His Pants Off, Showing His “Wounds” 

The salient features of this incident are as follows.

Amar Singh went to visit rape survivors.

(k- ok.)

A press conference was held.

(k- ok.)

At said press conference he took his pants off to show the “wounds” he got from not traveling by luxury buses.

(k- ok. Wait, what?)

I don’t really know what to say. It’s like some weird dream someone tells you about, you know? ‘And I dreamt Amar Singh was visiting rape survivors and there was this press conference and then he started taking off his pants-’. And that’s where you say ‘ok you can’t tell me about your weird dream anymore’.

Anyway, clearly the one thing that rape survivors need is a politician coming to visit them and then taking his pants off at a press conference and showing everyone his “wounds”. The only thing that hasn’t happened here is said politician declaring said “wounds” to be stigmata.

 2. Jacques Testard at the Jaipur Literary Festival with the Slumdogs 

Some of the salient features of this have been culled directly from the article and are featured here, completely out of context, which is like so mean you guys but whatever, this is my blog. But you are encouraged to view them in the beauty of their natural surroundings as well. Also this is just about the phust installment. I was instructed to stay tuned for the second installment, which I understand is up now but it behooved me to politely decline said offer because I am young and I want to live. So if second installment is awesome, that's awesome. This is about phust installment, which is brimming with Hindoos and lepers and cows and toilet issues! Now there’s something no one’s ever written about before! Here we go!

“Our driver is a Hindu; Ganesh stickers adorn his windscreen.”

(k –Doesn’t everyone just do this all the time? Like when you’re in Chicago or Vancouver, don’t you just go to the cab driver, hey muchacho, I see you have no stickers on your windscreen at all. You must be an atheist! Anyway, this comes near the beginning and it’s God’s way of telling you this is not going to go well and you should stop reading right now)

“…crouching lepers and stray cows”

(k- I mention this only because it will be the follow up to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. FYI. You saw it here phust)

“The mild January weather tempers the overwhelming olfactory experience that is India.”

(k- Can someone tell me what it means if India smells normal to me and I live in India and I totally don’t get this ‘overwhelming olfactory experience that is India’? Does this mean I’m actually living somewhere else? Does anyone know where I am? Can someone come and find me?)

“I’m looking for David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest. The girl at the till has not heard of it."

(k- it’s always very precious when the natives don’t know what you’re talking about, no? It’s one of the many things that makes me precious because I don’t know who David Foster Wallace is either. Who dat? I thought he was a piano playing dude but apparently that’s David Foster, which is a different man entirely. I made the same mistake with Victor Borga and Borges. I don’t know why I keep thinking certain writers are piano players)

“He worships Rama and Hanuman, the Monkey God who can change his size at will. In the Ramayana, Hanuman grows into a giant monkey and hops from south India to Lanka in search of Rama’s wife, Sita, who was kidnapped by the evil king Ravana. Most of these deities are blue. Christianity pales by comparison.”

(k- I’m not kidding. He actually wrote that. And then The Paris Review published it. Is it just me or does it sound eerily like Mrs. Mortimer? Maybe we should all be happy that writing in 2011 is similar to children’s books written by bigots in the 1800s)

“I’m determined to get through this book tonight. Testard, my surname, is French Provençal dialect for stubborn. I am not a practicing Jain.”

(k- I’m determined to get through this article without vomiting. Manickavel, my surname, is Tamil for Manickavel. I am not a banana. What the fuck? Am I on drugs? What is this? Why am I reading this? Why do I keep doing this to myself?)

-The hijras are eunuchs who live in marginalized communities and make a living from dancing and casting spells on credulous Indians. They also show up whenever there is a wedding, a birth, a death—any major family event—and demand money. If you refuse, they get naked and cast a spell on you. -

(k- The ExoticaSplaining Dude lives in other countries and makes a living from casting spells on credulous people by writing exotically about exotic stuff in exotic third world exotic countries. They also show up whenever there is a slum thang happening, a natural disaster, a literary festival- preferably any major third world event that involves poor peepal tho- and demand that you listen to them because they are the ExoticaSplaining Dude. If you refuse, they get naked and cast a spell on you. Actually they don’t but wouldn’t it be funny if they did? They should totes do that. Also, knicker please. As if the hijras didn't have enough issues to deal with. I mean why not just say they are casting these spells because they are magical vampires who beat up old people and steal the livers of newborn children also?)

Mrs. Mortimer wrote about all sorts of Far Away lands without actually going anywhere. And while I don't doubt that the illustrious Mr.Testard actually made it to our awesome shores, I couldn't help but think that it would be really easy to pull a Mrs. Mortimer with this one. After all, there is a lot of info on the JLF online. Add a few cows, lepers, a purple sari, Hindoo Gawds, hijras, reference to Indian friend who is related to people who live in India, throw in some pics from teh internetz (i noticed one pic was lifted from wiki, not a crime but whatever) and there you go- it’s like someone’s vacation blog from 2004. And now, after all that whining, can you offer us an alternative, you whiny third world colored person? Why yes! Yes I can! I personally liked this excellent write up very much but perhaps it sorta fails because it doesn't have enough cows and lepers in it. Oh whale.

And now, I have come to my decision.

Jacques Testard at the Jaipur Literary Festival with the Slumdogs-  Despite having many salient features and providing the odd guffaw, I'm afraid we couldn’t find anything unique or memorable that we haven’t seen a kajillion times before and won’t see a kajillion more times in the future. If you had held a press conference and taken off your pants, we may have thought differently. Unfortunately, you didn't.

Amar Singh At The Press Conference With His Pants Off, Showing His “Wounds”- For sheer wtfness that worked on numerous levels and was memorable in the way that we cannot ever unknow and we really don’t want to hear or see ever again, you win. Congratulations, you are the Great Big Awesome Winner of Fuckwit.

Gentlemen, we thank you both. Without these awesome displays of fuckwittery, I would have had nothing to blog about.

And now, here is a Leiomy Maldonado Vs Kassandra Ebony vogue battle where Leiomy does this INSANE matrix dip and it’s like…there are no words. INSANE!

okbai.