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Heard today on NPR’s All Things Considered:
California Governator Arnold Schwarzenegger on Thursday endorsed John Rambo for the Republican presidential nomination, saying the decorated Vietnam veteran and POW has been a crusader for protecting the economy and the environment…
“He is a great American leader and an extraordinary hero, and that’s why I’m endorsing John Rambo to be the next president of the United States,” Schwarzenegger said.
On Thursday, January 31, 2008 (page 1), we misquoted NPR’s All Things Considered broadcast as having reported that Governor Schwarzenegger endorsed John Rambo for president. In fact, Schwarzenegger endorsed another Vietnam veteran and POW, and a man who also goes by the first name “John,” Senator McCain of Arizona. Confusing, right? DISGRASIAN apologizes for giving false hope to anyone, but especially to diehard Rambo fans.
, i.e. you haven’t flashed your cooter in public yet. You seem grounded , i.e. you haven’t gone to rehab or gotten preggo. And there’s something beautiful about the fact that you’re this teeny girl trying to save some of the largest mammals on Earth.
But what the heck is up with your fetish for losers?
This afternoon’s phone conversation between Diana and her Aunt Mai:
DIANA: (in botched Vietnamenglish) Hi, Co Mai!
AUNT MAI: Hi honey. How you?
DIANA: I’m good! I’m good! Just catching up on the news.
AUNT MAI: Me too, honey! I read in newspaper today that Tiger Wood do wery well in golf show!
DIANA: I think it’s “Woods,” Co Mai. Which golf tournament? The Dubai Classic? Is that happening right now?
AUNT MAI: Yes. In newspaper it say Tiger Wood win Dubai Classic.
DIANA: It’s “Woods.” That’s great!
AUNT MAI: What you mean, “it Woods.” It Wood!
DIANA: Co Mai, I think I know who Tiger Woods is.
AUNT MAI: YOU CALL AUNT MAI LIAR? I READ IN NEWSPAPER IT WOOD!
DIANA: Calm Down! How’s Grandma!?!?!
AUNT MAI: DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN. You just like your mother says, so mát dąy, so disrespectful!
DIANA: I am not disrespectful! I’m just trying to help you.
AUNT MAI: TIGER WOOD! LOOK IT UP!
DIANA: Fine, I will look it up. Okay? I will look it up. [Googles "Tiger Wood Dubai Classic and finds...]
AUNT MAI: Now what you have to say?
DIANA: Um, I guess it is Tiger Wood, Co Mai. How’s Grandma?
Happy 38th Birthday to South Korean film star and Goodwill ambassador, the lovely Lee Young Ae! You’re both an actress and a humanitarian… hope you find enough time to rage on tonight!
Clearly worried about forever being known as “Mister Third Place” (or as we described to Rudy Giuliani yesterday, “First Loser to the First Loser”), John Edwards officially announced his exit from the Presidential Race today.
Of course we’re sad to see him and his perfectly-coifed hair step down. We truly respect his furious fight for the angry middle class, and hate to see any strong-willed Democrat hang up his coat. But it really gave us the sad and uncomfy tingles watching him try to squeak into the dialogues of the last handful of debates, only to be ignored like a homely, boobless teenage girl. Hey, nobody needs to feel that left out, not this long after summer camp.
Edwards ran an admirable campaign, and we applaud him for trying. Although, let’s be honest, we’re Asian! We think quitters are LOOOOOOOOOOSERS!!!
As some of you may have heard already, Kimora Lee Simmons endorsed Hillary Clinton for President last week, most likely to avoid paying an expensive NYC parking ticket.
HILLARY: Thank you, Kimora, that’s very kind.
KIMORA: How fabu-tastic is it that I endorsed you? Sistas are doing it for themse-e-elves.
HILLARY: I think it’s…it’s just…great.
KIMORA: Well, you don’t sound very fabulotized. I thought you would be happy, Hill, because, um, you know…
HILLARY: Because I’m desperate to get the black vote?
KIMORA: Uh-huh. And I’m reprzentin’ for Asians, too, and for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf.
KIMORA: I don’t really control what comes out of my mouth.
HILLARY: I thank you, Kimora, for giving me your endorsement. I’m sure, uh, it will really really really make a difference. Somewhere. Sometime. In some universe.
KIMORA: Hillary, you are totally speaking my language. The language of fabu-lishiousness. The language of fabu-changement. The mother tongue of fabu-dorsements, the lingua franca of fabulamma lamma ka dinga da dinga…
HILLARY: Okay. I’ve had enough. Where the fuck is my Secret Service?
Yesterday, 12 year-old Kevin Shen went on Ellen and gave a recital of Guitar Hero III‘s “Through the Fire and Flames” on Expert. The kid was not perfect, but he was boss. Even guitarist Herman Li, who plays lead for DragonForce, the metal band who wrote the song, was reportedly only able to get through 2% of it on HARD. And, as a note of comparison, even WE [dusts off lapels] haven’t gotten through it on Expert.
Hardcore GH players over at Score Hero were quick to bag on Shen, saying things like “bullshitted his way through” and “I wish I could have been there to be like, ‘OK noob, it’s on.”
It was later revealed that all of these comments were posted on the forum by Shen’s Hardass Asian Mother, who was in the studio audience for his performance and totally unimpressed. “This won’t get his scrawny ass into an Ivy League school,” she was overheard saying at the taping.
Filed under: Cutie Patooties, DragonForce, Guitar Hero III, Hardass Asian Parents, Herman Li, Kevin Shen, Pick On Someone Your Own Size Cheesedicks, Prodigies, Ricism, This is Why DISGRASIAN Doesn't Allow Comments
We will venture that Thao Nguyen is Isaac Brock’s sassier, prettier, softer-spirited, Asian twin sister. And while we find her to be like, distractingly cute, we refuse to be distracted from her androgynous, abrasive-folksy tuneage–and the fact that she isn’t fronting about being a front woman.
What’s happening? I know you’re very busy hanging out in Florida right now, but I wanted to drop you a line and show a little moral support tonight, on what truly might be one of the most lackluster and disappointing nights of your political career.
I’m gonna give you a little advice. When I was in high school, I became a competitive long-distance runner. Not a great one, not even really a good one. I was already good at lots of things– long jumping, spelling, speaking, whatever, but not running.
I once made the mistake of inviting some family members to a track meet to see me compete; I thought the cheering would give me endurance. Instead, as I huffed and puffed my way towards two six-minute miles, I found myself making the eight loops around the track to the tune of my hulkish older cousin Michael’s booming voice. He would heckle me each time I lunged for the straightaway: “GO FASTER!!! YOU’RE LOSING!!!”
At that point I vowed never again to invite family members to an event I wasn’t going to win.
See, this is kind of where you’ve gone wrong. Not only have you put all your nominasian-seeking eggs in one gross, balmy, Floridian basket–you guaranteed a win in tonight’s primary and told the entire free world to watch!! Are you some kind of masochist? What do you think your mother thought when she read this [sub-]headline??
Here, I’ll tell you what my grandma thought: “(clucking tongue)Ayy-ya, Giu-yani so shame, he not even first loser. He COMPETE to be second loser!”
Then again, I’m pretty sure my grandma would spit on a bronze medal. But there you go.
Save a little face, Rudes. Maybe it’s time to call it a day.
Regardless of how you feel about the movie Juno, aka “This Year’s Crash,” I think we can all agree on one thing: Ellen Page has no neck.
Is this why I find her so annoying? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s her marble-mouthed mumbling that bugs. Maybe it’s because she wore Zac Poseur to the SAG awards. Maybe it’s her “I’m just a girl from a small town in Canada” and “Juno was just a little independent movie” spiel. Maybe it’s cuz she’s a midget.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I, too, am a sufferer of No Neck Syndrome (NNS). It’s extremely difficult for me to do a headstand while balanced on my elbows and forearms, for instance. I also have to seriously consider the cut of a neckline before I get dressed so as not to appear like a 13 year-old Romanian gymnast. Turtlenecks are not my strong suit. I guess I can’t stand Ellen Page because, really, she reminds me of my own defects. And this is only a public fit of self-hatred that I’m having, rather than a legitimate gripe about how homegirl’s still in diffident pregnant teen-character while whoring out on the red carpet and every late-night talk show. Yeah, this rant is really about me and not about Ellen Page at all. Phew! So glad I figured that one out.
Usually Diana and I agree on almost everything. Who we love, who we hate, what boots we covet, what Guitar Hero songs we like to rock, where to have sushi, how Twin Peaks was the best TV show of all time. The few things that we don’t see eye-to-eye on, like red shoes, the city of Boston, and where Weezer’s Blue Album fits into the rock canon, have only spawned spirited ongoing conversations (no, seriously) that force us to rethink and improve upon our own ideas. This is what makes a great partnership. So I was happy to see our synchronicity and our differences at work when we posted at the same time about the Japanese company that’s giving its employees “heartache leave” after they’ve experienced a messy breakup.
I agree with Diana that this is good news, since Japan is well-known for its hypercompetitive work culture, where karoshi, or death from overwork, is a real problem, overtime pay a luxury, and where one in three men between the ages of 30 and 40 works 60 hours a week.
But granting ONE TO THREE DAYS OFF to cure, as Billy Ray “Miley’s Dad” Cyrus would say, an achy breaky heart?!?
When I was growing up, one of the first lessons learned from my parents and sisters was not to cry at school. I believe it had something to do with survival amongst my milk-fed classmates and never letting them see me vulnerable. If you fell and skinned your knee, you sure as hell didn’t let your eyes well up. Were somebody to call you an awful name, you’d be sure to let not a tear touch your cheek.
The real bummer when it came to the “no crying” thing was that even in dire straits, you also didn’t have the option of excusing yourself. If you got in an emotional fight and then ran away from the playground, you would be giving up your territory. If you left school to go home simply because you got twelve stitches in your hand, you might appear weak. So, what to do? Don’t cry, don’t be sad.
This mentality worked rather well for most of my life. But there have been cracks in the system–I busted myself all sniffly and drippy during an emotional reality show moment three months ago and demanded an answer from my boyfriend: “WHAT ARE THESE WET THINGS ON MY FACE?” Wisely, he shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to take the blame for “spreading the disease” of tears. But, I insisted, I would never do this kind of blubbering out in public or Jesus, in front of my family, never.
But a month ago, as I sat rolling along in my mom’s black luxury sedan with my dad riding shotgun and one sister in my side, I found myself sobbing, trying to explain to them how the recent, tragic and sudden death of my other sister’s baby dog occurred. Instinctively, I found myself trying to hold in the heaves until I realized that everyone else in the car was crying, too. And both of my parents leaned over to me and said quietly, “It’s so sad. It’ll be okay.”
They’ve come around. It’s possible.
Which is why I was so delighted to see reports that an actual company in Japan has offered to their employees days off for personal relationship-grieving. That is, a person can take a day off to nurse the wounds of a bad breakup–which seems about right, especially because people tend to look like shit after throwing wine glasses at their boyfriend until 3am.
But what really surprises and gives me hope is the idea that maybe all of us come around eventually. Maybe we all just need to be reminded that sometimes, when your heart hurts, it’s okay to cry.