.: culture : mash :.

Forgive me for having been lazy and not posted for a while. Well, it wasn’t so much me being lazy, as me being swamped at work, traveling, and knowing I really only have about 4 quasi-loyal readers.

Anyhow, I went up to Toronto for a few days last week to meet with our headquarters office, and you can imagine my surprise when I got there and I wasn’t freezing my ass off. Kudos to Canada for finally allowing me on my like 10th visit to enjoy a city I’ve always found pretty amazing, without having to layer on the padding and protect my face holes from freezing up.

I always used to say that if I ever did have kids, I’d need to raise them just messed up enough for them to come out healthy and self sufficient.

Why? Because I was raised lovingly and kindly, and I’m a fucking mess.

Apparently, the French are already way on top of this.

There’s a really interesting article in the Telegraph , which tries to explain why strict and sometimes considered mean parenting from the French, can result in well raised members of society.

I wonder if Dina Lohan, Lynn Spears, or Kathy Hilton ever picked up on French child rearing principals while stuffing their faces with baguette and buying handbags worth down payments on one of their numerous visits to the city of lights?

nahhh…

Dear Michael Bay,

A lot of people tell me you may have shit on the movie Transformers. Personally, I don’t really care. Fanboys cry because they can’t get laid.

However, I will say … awesome shirts. Besides making blow-up movies, you do have some cool ideas for other stuff.

order them here!

So, today I’m too lazy to do an appropriate blog about culture. However, I think it might be a good time to appreciate the cultural aspects of art.

While I know I peddle high end 3D animation software for a living, it’s nice to know a few friends who use it for something more refined.

I give you, Kevin Mack’s pieces , created using Houdini animation software.

Visit him at www.kevinmack.net or his MySpace at www.myspace.com/kevinmack333 !
God Loves a Math Joke

Reality Machine

Self and Other

What does the world eat?

Here you go camper, don’t tell me I never gave you anything ;).

Do me a favor and try not to laugh shamefully at the American families , where all they eat is mostly processed foods and carbs. That’s the stuff of dreams…. yum!

Let’s look at a few specs:

United States: The Caven family of California

Food expenditure for one week: $159.18
Favorite foods: beef stew, berry yogurt sundae, clam chowder, ice cream

compared to say ….

Ecuador: The Ayme family of Tingo

Food expenditure for one week: $31.55
Family recipe: Potato soup with cabbage

(From the book “Hungry Planet”)

You know, people often think I should know where the line is between racism and things being just simply funny … because I’m obviously a culturologist, having a blog and all to make it “official”.

To tell you the truth, I have no idea where the line for humor shouldn’t be crossed. Today, however, I had a small inkling that what I saw could help test this offendometer.

Running around from venue to venue with my new colleague Erick, I had the speediest of speedy lunches in downtown San Diego, at a place called Rockin’ Baja Lobster in the Gaslamp Quarter today. And while I ate the unhealthiest salad and tried to tell myself I was having good calories, because it was tasteless, I took a moment to look away from the baseball screens to take in the glory that is cheap Mexican eatery decor.

What I saw could only be truly relayed with appropriate imagery. You take a gander and determine for yourself what you think…

Please refer the exhibits below:

The Mexican and the Prostitute

The Mexican alone (read his sign)

The Prostitute alone (read her sign)

“Erick, I think I might be a little offended. I mean, I think I should and would be offended at least, if I were Mexican. Right? I can’t even tell what’s wrong anymore.”

“Leyla, Latin people just get offended that much. Maybe we’re just used to it.”

Good point Erick. The only thing missing, is the drunken UCSD frat boy, vomiting at the borderline crossing.

PS: This is apparently from a few movies you might know of  …. but really, this just begs the question:

Is this funny or funny haha - racist? 

I don’t know if this is a typical thing amongst other cultures, but picking up the bill for a meal amongst Persian people is more than just a simple gesture of courtesy…it’s a friggin sport. It involves so many phases and hurdles of formality and humility, I think people have scripted versions I swear.

I noticed this today while at Javan Restaurant in West LA with my brother and mother. I was wildly entertained with the dialog which was contained to our table alone, but I can’t help but let my focus wander to seeing what other Iranian families are like, and seeing how their generations of people interact with the younger kids completely Americanized, but still holding some root to their Eastern past.

I woke up this morning to no electricity. And with no electrcity, this meant no driving out of my garage since the door was apparently too difficult for anyone on the premises to figure out how to manually open. My usual Sunday visits to see my family got shifted to their having to pick me up to go to an early (like really early) lunch for some chelow kabab. So early, we were the first people in the place, and apparently too early for us to get my favorite Persian food on the planet, tahdig. This was highly disappointing , to say the least.

Ah the Sunday family antics. The comedy gold captured in that meal in itself was enough to supply a poorly scripted minority sitcom for ABC, but we won’t go there since a lot of it simply gets lost in the idioms between Farsi and English.

There really is nothing funnier than my mother trying to set me up with people… except her trying to do this with my older brother.

“Why don’t you go see the woman I told you about? You never trust my sense in women.” my mother would mutter while sipping on her yogurt drink.

“Because mother, there’s no way I’d go about it the way you suggest.”

“Mom’s trying to set you up again?”

“Yes, but this time her idea of my introduction is just retarded.”

“Mom?”

She just looks away…

“Come on Leyla, she wants me to walk into some random bank and walk up to the teller there and tell her how my momma sent me to meet her.”

Enter cackles of laughter.

Sadly, her efforts are not all that non-beneficial I realize.