You are currently browsing posts tagged with Allergic to Failure

Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior: Because Their Daughters Get Into Harvard, That’s Why

April 1st, 2011 | 2 comments | Posted by Jen

For those of you eagerly awaiting a very public failure from one of Tiger Mom Amy Chua’s prodigy offspring–like a crack cocaine bender or half-naked photos leaked onto the Internet–so that you can feel better about your own parenting-style/feel better about the lax way in which you were parented/feel better about the strict way in which you were parented that weirdly didn’t yield the same sort of results/feel better about the fact that “the Chinese way” isn’t better therefore you don’t have to confront your diminishing place in the global power structure/oh hell, just feel better about yourself in general…

Um, better luck next year?

Because this year, Chua’s Number One Daughter, Sophia (pictured), has been accepted to Harvard–Chua’s alma mater and where she and her invisible husband, Jed Rubenfeld, received their law degrees–despite the fact that the university took only 6.2 percent of its undergraduate applicants for the Class of 2015, which was the lowest admissions rate of all the Ivies. And according to Above the Law, Sophia has already decided to matriculate there as well.

But hey, there’s still time for Lulu–Chua’s Number Two Daughter who teaches her Tiger Continue reading Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior: Because Their Daughters Get Into Harvard, That’s Why

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Hines Ward: You’re Okay, We’re Okay

September 11th, 2009 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

After watching Hines Ward fumble what should have been a game-winning ball at the end of the fourth quarter against the Tennessee Titans last night, I wasn’t worried. I was shocked–because Ward simply doesn‘t suffer accidents like that, especially five yards from the goal line–but deep down, I knew the Steelers would hold the game into OT and pave the way for Jeff Reed to take it home.

Ward was shocked, too. He took it hard. Real hard. In fact, every time the camera cut to him from the moment of that gaffe until the game reached its final tally at 13-10, the usually-grinning Ward was hurting, hating himself. His eyes said it all–If he hadn’t been on a field with 26,000 tons of burly dudes, he would have been sobbing his ass off.

I wanted to jump through the television, transport myself from my L.A. living room to the chilly bench at Heinz Field, run over to him with a gatorade and a towel, and give him a big ol’ hug. I wanted to tell him: Buddy, it’s okay. It was a mistake, but one our team overcame. It’s hard for you because you don’t often make mistakes. You don’t understand failure, because it is unfamiliar to you. But dude, even almost-perfect people have imperfect moments. Like when my dad is shocked that he’s lost something (because he’s a robot and NEVER LOSES ANYTHING), or pissed when he sneezes, because he can’t believe his body would dare allow sickness–he doesn’t like it, but it happens. Try to let it go, honey pie. For this one colossal fuckup, you have and will make up for it with about nine-hundred bajillion superhuman awesome feats. You’re good. There’s no question about it. Nobody’s mad atcha. Let’s turn that frown upside down!!!

But I couldn’t transport myself to Pennsylvania. I could only watch as Ward sighed a pained air-gulp of relief as Reed’s kick sailed between the posts to end the contest. He tucked his head down and walked out of the stadium, weighed down with shame even though the Steelers walked away from the game 1-0. I realized that there was no consoling him (he’s a superstar blasian for crying out loud. Poor guy probably spent all night alternating acts of flogging himself with intense weight training and repeated recitation of: “You almost ruined it for everyone, you stupid jerk. Everyone, you stupid jerk! Agh! Stupid. Stupid!”). At least not for awhile.

This morning, assuming that there had been a good five minutes for photo-ops, I trolled the web for snaps of a forlorn Ward with tears in his eyes. But neither nor ESPN seemed to find it necessary to document a close-up of his shame in their galleries.

Perhaps none of us want to see Ward make mistakes. We’d rather see him smile.

[Washington Post: Steelers Pick Up Right Where They Left Off]


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March 18th, 2009 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

My major issue with the wax statue of Yao Ming that recently debuted at NY’s Madame Tussauds

“Live” Yao (left)–cool as a cuke, and “wax” Yao (right)–nervous Nellie

…is that the wax version looks really, really scared that he’s not gonna make a foul shot. I mean, for chrissake, he’s Yao Ming. Homeboy does not know failure intimately–why worry?

Thanks, jRu and Jasmine!

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Gupta: For No Considerasian

March 5th, 2009 | 0 comments | Posted by Diana

My dad is a General Surgeon, and for years I thought that meant he was just an everyday Surgeon General, going to work and telling people stuff like, “Smoking causes lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema, and may complicate pregnancy.”

I remember finally realizing that when he went to work, he cut people open to save their lives and stuff, which sounded a bit cooler. But then I found out that the Surgeon General was this big, important spokesman job with the PHSCC, and was like, “Sounds great! Why don’t you go do that instead??”

My dad, uh, apparently had no interest in being the federal government’s go-to doc. But CNN’s amazian Sanjay Gupta did, and because he was on Obama’s short list for the job, we at DISGRASIAN were brimming with excitement.

Sadly, though, we just learned that the doctor has withdrawn his name from consideration.

CNN reports:

“Sanjay Gupta was under serious consideration for the job of surgeon general,” [an Obama administration] official said in an e-mail. “He has removed himself from consideration to focus more on his medical career and his family. We know he will continue to serve and educate the public through his work with media and in the medical arena.”

URGGGG. What a huge bummer! And while we kinda believe that Dr. Gupta doesn’t want to make the career leap because he’s a family man, there’s a teeny-weeny part of us that thinks that ain’t the real reason.

Perhaps he really hates to lose. Could it be that he withdrew his name to avoid the remote possibility that he not be chosen? That would definitely mean: he ain’t gonna be the Surgeon General, but he sure as hell is Asian.


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September 24th, 2008 | 0 comments | Posted by Jen

No Fail Mode is the name of an emo band. They aren’t very good, but what they lack in musicianship and good lyrics, they make up for with earnestness and eyeliner. They wouldn’t be caught dead in anything other than skinny jeans, and they are not above nicking your hair product.

No Fail Mode is the name of a nu metal band. Their idols are System of a Down. They like wearing a lot of black, because they’re serious, and they sing about political issues like fighting the power and whatnot. They are not afraid to hug each other and talk things out, something they learned by watching that Metallica documentary. Hugging can be hardcore, too.

No Fail Mode is the name of a Christian hard rock group. Their name vaguely references Isaiah 42:4: “He shall not fail nor be discouraged, till he have set judgment in the earth.” They think tattoos, piercings, smoking, and gays are things that God is okay with. When they pray together before shows, they not only pray for lost souls but for the crossover potential of Creed.

No Fail Mode is the opposite of You Fail It and does not do anything for the lulz.

No Fail Mode is also a Rock Band 2 option (under “EXTRAS” in the Main Menu). No matter how hard you suck, unlike in regular mode, you won’t fail and get booed off the stage. It is for gamers who don’t really want to game. It is for people at parties who want to rock out on plastic instruments without looking bad and are weirdly unaware that that is a built-in impossibility. (Do you realize that that thing’s plastic and has unicorn stickers all over it because I have a sticker fetish? Play “Shackler’s Revenge” already and embrace the inherent inanity, for fuck’s sake.) It is for people who think Rock Band is “just a game.” It is for those who believe Rock Band is “social.” It is for your agent, the idiot kid you babysat for who cried when you didn’t let him win, somebody’s mom (not ours though–they’re competitive as shit). It is for people who are allergic to failure but too lazy or inept to prevent it from happening themselves.

No Fail Mode, in other words, is for pussies. We do not approve.

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