Lameass Conversations of The Week - 4

Hena: So are you going to the club social?

Me: If Aaron and Khaled goes, and if Khaled is giving me a ride back, I will go. Otherwise if they can't go, but I am done my studies AND my paper, I will still go. Else I won't go.

Hena: Jeez, You are a computer programmer alright!

* * *

So this newlywed friend of mine, R, dropped in from out of town with his wife. We hooked up with a bunch of other guys and went out for dinner. R was the youngest in our group of friends, and being the youngest and a student, while the rest of us were the working bunch, most of the time we treated R and never let him pay much. So today, R decided to treat us in honour of his newlywed status. He also did not want his new wife to know that this was the first time he was treating the group.

So he took out his gold VISA card, made us order a whole bunch of dishes, and with great pomp and show signed the bill and added a generous tip. It was all going so well for him too - until the over-friendly waitor came back and told him, "Sir, you need to sign the back of the credit card. It looks new, sir, have you never used it before?"

If looks could kill ...

* * *

I go to the IT Help Desk.

"Hi, can you help me configure my laptop for the university wireless network?"

"Um," the guy behind the Help Desk replies. "We have this hour long information session we hold. You have to attend those."

"I don't have an hour." I told him. "It's just a simple thing, can you just take a look?"

"Sorry." He goes. "We can't help you individually. If we help you we have to help every body."

And I am thinking, "And you are called the Help Desk because ..."

Link: Previous Lameness

A Kulkhani at the Mosque

Yesterday, word suddenly reached me that someone close to my neighbour, a good friend of ours, had left for his heavenly abode. Since the departed had been ill, this was expected, nevertheless a sad time for all his relatives and friends.

A kulkhani was quickly organized at the Foundation, which I had to rush to attend, and my neighbour sponsored the iftar there. As I tucked into my generous portion of food, I wondered - how lucky was the brother who had passed away?

There is no custom of an eulogy in Islam, but so many of his friends and relatives who had come to the mosque spoke of how he had made a positive affect on their lives. They were not just being polite - one could see they truly shared the pain and grief of the family - yet held genuine affection in their eyes. Many had taken time out of their busy schedules to drive to the other part of the town just to pay their respects, and eagerly rolled up their sleeves and shared in the volunteer duties that sponsoring an iftar entailed.

They say the proper way to come into this world is for you to be crying, but for everyone else to be smiling. If, on the other hand, if you can leave this world with a smile while everyone else is in tears, as you are eager to meet your Lord, you have done well.

What matters to our Lord, I realized, is the intention behind our actions. Yet for others, our actions speak a great deal. All the lives that this man had touched, and changed in a very positive manner, spoke of a very philanthropic man who didn't hesitate to do the right thing, to share a bit of the blessings that Allah had given him.

Today, as I look around, I see that many a times, our actions do not jive with our words. Yes, Islam is a beautiful religion and yes, Islam does tell us to behave well with our neighbours, treat women with respect, never harm or discriminate based on ethnicity, never to lie or cheat in our business, to always educate ourselves and seek knowledge, to welcome the birth of a daughter with equal joy as that of a son, to not turn our eyes away from the suffering of others and to wish for others what we wish for ourselves.

Yet our actions do not match these ideals. We are eager to recount how the Indonesians accepted Islam not under the sword but influenced by the behaviour of the Arab traders - yet today our adaab - our manners - leave a lot to be desired. We are proud of our ancient scientists and philosophers, yet today we stifle education for half our children and freedom of speech is a defunct concept.

Yes, some of the problems are not ours, the Western world does provide blanket support to many a dictator in the Muslim world, but others are in our hands. We can all improve our personal behaviour to be an example to our neighbours. We can all contribute to welfare programs run by our community centres.

We can all be a positive influence on our society. Let's hope this Ramadan can bring forth a few of the jewels amongst us to light.

This Dude Bugs Me

After work, if I don't have any studies to do, I usually tend to hang around with a few friends and either go to the gym or play some sports like squash or badminton. Since it's now Ramadan, we time it in such a way so that we can do our game, get a good work out, get a shower and just in time make it to the Multi-Faith center here. The local Muslim Students Association serves free iftar for everyone, and you get to pray your Maghreb prayers in congregation and then break your fast with other people too.

For the last few days I have been noticing a trend.

There's some people there who are clearly NOT fasting. That's ok, people have their own reasons for not fasting. But some people are even not Muslims (you can tell) and some even don't observe the decorum of the place!

For example, there's a guy there who shows up immediately after the prayers. As the volunteers are rolling up the prayer mats, he walks in with shoes. And he is dressed in shorts. SHORTS. For the last few days I have seen him in shorts. He gets his food by standing in line like everyone else. And he always goes back for seconds. ALWAYS.

I mean, I know you have come for the free food. We know you are a free loader. That's ok, most of us have done that over time at many places. But at least observe the decorum of the place! Have some respect for the values of the people you are freeloading off from!

Do I sound like one of those rednecks who scream refugees who come into our country must respect the values of this country and not demand change? Or am I right?

I am Muslim and I was NOT supporting Pakistan

After yesterday's cracker of a World Cup final (India vs Pakistan), I could not believe when Shoaib Malik, captain of the Pakistan team, took to the podium for the presentation ceremony and said this:

"First of all I want to say something over here. I want to thank you back home Pakistan and where the Muslim lives all over the world." [Youtube, 3:08].

Let me make one thing very clear to you, Mr. Malik. You are representing the PAKISTAN team. You are not representing the MUSLIMS all over the world.

It bugs me whenever Pakistanis assume that just because you are Muslim you are going to support their cricket team. Hello - NO! The Man of the Match was Irfan Pathan, an Indian, a Muslim (and son of a muezzin to boot).

Then again perhaps I should cut the Pakistanis some slack. They did just lose a humdinger of a match (the final of a World Cup) to their arch rivals. After all, Shahid Afridi did congratulate "all the Indian nations". I am sure the Cheehahah tribe north of Ontario would be happy to be acknowledged.

What a match! Oh, why was it on a Monday? And the star of the game for the losing side? A certain gentleman with this name.



Ah, what a shot! Then again, since I was rooting for India, this sort of headline on Cricinfo was not good.



Finally, Misbah fell.



Ah, you should have spelled your name a little differently! *cough* use a 'z' *cough*

On another note, after seeing a certain picture from the England-Australia game, I think I now know why Twenty20 cricket is gaining in popularity.

The Iftar Time

Sunset is just around the corner, and you are at an iftar party, getting ready to break the fast. If you were a non-Muslim observer, you would think the ritual is pretty simple, right? At the appointed time, eat and the fast is broken - voila! Alas! If it was only so simple. Observe.

"So what time is the iftar today?" One uncle asks.

"7.20." The host dutifully answers.

"Are you sure?" Another queries. "Yesterday it was 7.22."

"Well, it's different everyday..." Yet another starts to explain.

"I read somewhere it's 7.15 today." A kid offers, probably hungry.

"I have the paper of timings." The host announces decisively, before triumphantly flashing a flier in front of the crowd. On one side is the advert for the local butcher for chicken legs at 1.49 per pound. On the flip side are the timings, as attested by the local mosque. 7.20 it says. Surely, that is that, you think? Nope, the fun has just begun.

"Only three more minutes." The host announces.

"Surely you are wrong." The first uncle again objects. "My watch has 7.16 now."

"My watch is correct." Says a third. "It's now 7.18."

"I set my watch by 680 news," The host desperately cuts in, "and it's now 7.17."

"680 news!!!" Suddenly an older gent who everyone has ignored till now exclaims in a loud voice. He is usually ignored because he can be trusted to forever interject with politically incorrect comments (usually about Jews), and true to form he doesn't disappoint.

"680 news time is wrong! It's a Jewish conspiracy to make us Muslims break our fast one minute early!"

There is silence for a minute, then the host exclaims, "7.20! It's time. OK I am going."

The sight of him filling his plate with with delicious food is soon too much and everyone joins in, whether is 7.20 by their watch or not.

On to the next debate - the Maghreb prayer - and which direction is REALLY the Qiblah.

A Little Early Story

The chilly winds of an early Fall morning in Toronto failed to numb her cheeks - they were covered under a thin black cloth. The woman in the niqab walked down the street, oblivious to the stares of other pedestrians; she was late for her volunteer shift at the food shelter.

Mona, the young girl who saw the niqabi cross the street shook her head. She was Muslim too, but why did the niqabi not integrate like Mona? The niqabi was probably born in one of those hardline Muslim countries, Mona decided.

She could be like her - Mona prayed five times, ate halal food, did not date, yet had a normal life. The niqabi could be like her neighbor over there, standing by the bus stop, wearing the pink hijab yet friendly in her appearance. As she walked to her office, Mona nodding a greeting at her hijabi friend.

"She probably thinks I am out to get attention," The pink hijabi thought. "I am not admonishing her for not covering her head, why does she never say salaam to me?"

The man behind the hot dog cart rubbed his hands in front of the stove on his cart. Business was winding down with the summer, and even early openings did not break him even. Abdul had thought the 'halal' sign on his cart would attract more customers, yet the many Muslims he saw exiting the mosque opposite the road did not even glance at him. "Must be because I am a shia," he thought.

"Should I, or should I not?" thought Tariq, as he got a coffee from Tim Horton's. "That guy is so tempting, and halal too!" He then thought of the barely subtle hints his wife had dropped about his growing waistline, and decided to skip a hot dog for lunch today. He passed another bus stop on the way back to work. A man with a thick beard was getting the looks from everyone. Tareq laughed, "Silly immigrants! Why don't they shave and be rid of the hassle?"

It was time for zuhr. Tareq made his way to the small room that served as the neighborhood mosque. He hadn't been there - just last week an old Somalian janitor saw him praying in the hallway and told him about it. He stopped.

The bearded man was the imam. As he removed his jacket, Tareq saw that the bearded man was actually a white guy, and sported a Maple Leafs jacket! Tareq took his place beside the hot dog guy. God! He smelled of hot dog! The women lined up behind.

They all prayed to the same God. For some ten, quiet minutes, there was no Shia, no Sunni, no hijabi, no niqabi - just men and women, subservient before Allah.

Outside, a man pointed at the building and turned to his wife.

"That's the Muslim mosque." He turned up his nose. "The lot! Why don't they go back home?"

Welcoming Ramadan with Squash

So Ramadan will be here in two days. How are you preparing for it?

I have two main goals this Ramadan. One is spiritual, the other is physical.

First, I decided I am going to learn to pray Fajr on time. I do pray Fajr, right before I go to work, which usually happens to be long way after sunrise for 7 months of the year.

Once someone asked me if I pray Fajr on time. "Um," I replied, "for like 3 months of year, yes. You know, when the sun rises at 8 in the morning..."

"Ah," the other person had replied before a shake of the head in the "oh-you-are-so-lost" kind of way. "You wait for winter to pray on time!"

So the spiritual goal of this Ramadan is to pray Fajr on time. Now to the non-spiritual part.

I am going to build some upper body muscle.

Um, what has that got to do with Ramadan? Well, everything!

A good muslim is physically fit - a lesson that seems to be lost nowadays. I was listening to some lecture series, where one of the sheikhs was giving a physical description of the Prophet. His chest, the Prophet's wives are supposed to have commented, was like a folded shirt - a way of saying "six pack" in those times. Wrestling was apparently a sunnah (holy WWF!) and our Messenger was apparently in tip top physical shape.

Yet today you see all those mullahs with a spare tire bigger than the Dome of the Rock lecturing on the Sunnah of eating with three fingers.

Thus I have begun to learn the game of squash - apparently the fastest burner of calories from the indoor sports - and Mousehunter has been giving me some tips.

So today I went to the gym at 5. Then I spent 30 minutes on the stair master and treadmill. Sweating buckets, I then went to the squash court. For an hour I practiced forward drop shots and backhand volleys. Then I did 30 minutes of weights. And THEN I went swimming for 10 laps around the 25 m pool.

Yes! Finally when I was home, at 8, I felt relaxed. Tired, but nothing like a good work out. Oh I could just feel the calories melting away, the muscles in the upper body taking shape, the ...

Then I saw mom had cooked biryani.

Of Marriage Forms

I am researching the marriage laws of a Middle Eastern country for a cousin who, if all things go well inshAllah, is going to get married there shortly. Of course, one of the big problems is that many of these countries don't have proper websites, or even if they do, the English part of it is very badly written or completely unhelpful.

However, I did notice a few interesting things.

One, they love to use the words 'thereof' and 'whereby', and other big words whether they go with the sentence or not. For example,

... presenting the original passports of the spouses or copies thereof in addition to birth certificates whereby an attestation of the original in Arabic is necessitated...

Two, there seems to be no shortage of forms that you have to fill. For example, heading over to the Sharia court section of one city (now this is Islamic courts, folks), I find this gem.

'Proof of Marriage Consummation Form'
Definition:The husband must acknowledge and two witnesses must testify that he has carried out the marriage ceremonials and had intercourse with the wife.

Somehow I don't think my cousin can raise THIS topic with his fiancee.

The "Racist" Fishing Cop

I was talking to another Bengali acquaintance of mine. I asked him how his weekend went, and he replied he had gone fishing for salmon to this place in Port Hope, where he had rented a boat with his family. Naturally, I asked him how it had turned out.

"Oh, it was terrible." He replied. "On the top of that, our boat was pulled over by a racist cop and he ticketed all the adults on the boat."

"Wait a minute." I asked, puzzled. "You got a speeding ticket on your boat?"

"No, no." He laughed. "We were fishing without a license."

"OH." A pause, and then, "how much was the ticket for?"

"155 dollars each." He replied miserably. "What a racist cop. There were four or five boats around us, all had white people fishing. The police boat naturally went to the only brown people on the lake."

At this point of course, I had lost any sympathy for him. I mean, it's not a speeding ticket where you are going 20 over, EVERY one does that. Fishing is simple. You go to Canadian Tire, and buy a fishing license - 20 bucks per person for the year. You can't do that - then the cop has every right to give you a ticket. And, as I told him, he was lucky. The police have the authority to sieze a person's car (because it is used to carry the fish home - fish that is now illegal because they don't have a license).

I am sorry - people are trying to be cheap - but in reality you are cheating the government. And for people like me who pay the fishing license, it's good to see cheats being actually caught and punished. And as for the cop being racist - not only could he have reasons for not going to the 'white' boats (they are familiar people, he knows them, he has checked their license before, etc.) but as long as you are doing something illegal, and illegal because you are cheap, you really don't have any excuse to complain.

The Missing Woman

A long time childhood crush of mine just had a baby daughter, leading me to experience a probably inappropriate twinge of regret that yes - she is well and truly gone. Indeed, it was the sight of her cavorting around on a rainy rooftop in a yellow sari that has probably fueled the testosterone-laden attraction of many a guy towards voluptuous full figured Indian women - now immortalized by Youtube.

However, as I lately purvey the tripe that now masquerades as 'Indian' movies - I see that this sari-clad beauty is now an endangered species. For example, in a song that brings the Canadian-Pakistani talent of Adnan Sami along with Kareena Kapoor, the scion of the famous Bollywood clan, you have this.

It seems more and more Bollywood songs now have our hero dancing with a backup crew that consists of people fitting one job description - you have to be a foreign, blonde female with an attractive figure that you will barely adorn with clothes. For example, the main attraction of the song Kiss Me Baby (yikes, English!) in the movie Garam Masala was this.


A rating of PG-13 on this blog prohibits me from placing some more pictures as example (also because I have a disk quota from Blogger) but you get the idea.

In affectionate remembrance of the truly desi woman, who died an untimely death circa 1990s. Deeply lamented by a large circle of admirers, Bollywood watchers and horny teenagers.

As an aside, I wonder if the large number of foreign women dancing to the tunes of brown men (literally) feeds some hidden desire of us desi men to control the exotic Other Woman. Go to the Facebook album of any of the resident desi "Studs", and you will see one typical picture.

In the club. Beer in hand. Foreign (usually White) Woman on arm.

I have seen even black men who have white girlfriends subconsciously introduce them around as if they are some kind of trophy. I wonder why.

Mine Is Big

I uncovered and showed mine to her.

"Wow, that's big." She exclaimed. She slowly touched it.

"Feels nice too. But my, it's big! May I ask," she continued to stare, "how big is it?"

"Well..." I told her. I didn't exaggerate, I was modest - but she could see it.

"Wow." She exclaimed. "I recently noticed guys are having bigger ones nowadays."

"Hmm." Somewhat deflated at news of other guys with big ones, I replied, "Well, size matters you know."

She laughed. "I think you guys are obsessed more with size. If you ask girls it doesn't matter so much."

"Really? Ya, right."

"Haha ooh yes." She continued. "I mean as far as ... utility goes, size is really nothing, It's what you can do with it. Power, performance ..."

"I..."

She slowly came nearer, and then started to pull down a zipper.

"What I have ... is one size fits all, you know."

The zipper was now fully open.

Delicately, she took my 17 inch laptop and placed it into her generic laptop bag. Yup, it fit all right.

Observations of a Desi BBQ - 2

Q: How to tell a BBQ is a desi BBQ?

A: Tea. We HAVE to have tea. No matter what the challenge, tea must be made.


Tea being made over charcoal left from cooking the chicken.

Note also the big pot (called patil in Bengali) used to keep left over chicken warm.



(Pictures are sourced from Facebook, so if you can't see the pictures, Facebook is probably banned from where you are now)

Canadian Desis Returning To The Gulf

Khaleej Times recently published a very interesting article on Canadian desis returning to the Gulf.

SUCCESSFUL Gulf-based Asians often have a tax-free lifestyle second to none. BMWs, fancy condos, five star travel, household help, minimum one month long paid vacation time and a hectic party/club scene are a normal way of life. The only thing lacking perhaps is a sense of belonging and the premonition that all this is ephemeral.

I wish when I was there in the Gulf, someone had told me how to enjoy this five star travel lifestyle (not to forget the 'hectic party/club scene'). The BMW wouldn't have been bad either!

The truth is in the first word of that sentence - 'Successful'. Now you have to define success, but on the whole I would not argue that an average South Asian family in the Gulf probably enjoys a lot of comforts that they would not enjoy back in Canada. The company usually pays rent, tickets to go back to desiland during the month long summer vacations, tax free income, eating out whenever you feel like it (without worrying about halal / haram or your burger being real meat instead of what is called a 'byproduct'). The trade off is of course living under the constant subjugation of Arabs (called 'Rafeek', 'miskeen') or being in trouble with the law (life is good as long as it's good - any trouble, you're fucked).

To me the writing appears mostly as a fluff piece (even though it raises some interesting issues). I, for one, would have liked the writer to interview more families who had returned to the Gulf and been there for a while now. Do they still like it? Do their Canadian-born kids like it?

There is no doubt that Canada has a problem hiring the immigrants it allows in. The first generation always struggles. As for the second generation? Even I now sometimes think it may not be a bad idea to move back for a bit, make some money and come back, even though last year I was of the opinion I would never move back. After some time, the long winters start to get at you.

"Going back was not an option, none of that one foot here and one foot there business," says Jasmine candidly.

"However, initially, we did have our share of adversity. The usual things - no jobs, no recognition of our credentials (she was a teacher in Saudi), savings rapidly going down the drain, having to pay rent for 12 months up front, post-9/11 retrenchment."

The Sawants, with their two sons, Aniruddh, and Siddhant, now 19 and 16 respectively, bit the bullet and consciously made a decision to adopt the Canadian way of life.

And this last part is where I agree - many of the 'successful' immigrant families I see - where the couple has "made it" - usually stems when both the husband and wife immerse themselves into the system. Rather than fight it or accept the bad bumps, they get involved and try to work their way through it. Sucks if you are a doctor, but most other professions find some vocation within three years.

This is a very interesting article - as I said - when I consider places I wouldn't mind working for a few years other than Canada - the UAE, with a suitable job, is very high on that list. But would you live in a place where nothing is as it seems and you have no future, for (very) high bucks?

Talking About Someone's Wife

Dear Diary,

Does any one still read this blog? No? Oh, I guess it'll just be me and you then. You liked it that way, didn't you?

I went to a wedding last week. Apparently, there are some rules about praising another man's wife that I breached.

My friend, with whom I go way back (hello A.) and his wife also arrived for the wedding. As you know, I am a very, er, observant person. So as soon as I saw her, I told her, "Wow P, you look very good! Those highlights in your hair make you look striking!"

Of course she flushed and replied, "Oh thank you, tell your friend A, he didn't even notice!"

And true to nature A could hardly be bothered and we were soon discussing the dismal nature of the Bangladesh cricket team and the looming Ontario election. We soon split up and I was working the room, when suddenly, half an hour or so later, my friend A again showed up.

"Man, why did you have to praise my wife so much? Now she's bugging me that I don't notice stuff about her."

"Oh?"

"Listen, next time you praise ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE, keep it general ok? Don't get SPECIFIC."

"Ah."

WTF man how can you not notice your wife has ORANGE HAIR.

And it didn't help when I told him "oh well your wife is very pretty so I guess you can tell her you got used to her beauty."

Well ... I thought it was a very good excuse.

There are times I feel sorry for married people.

Oh don't worry about my friend and I - we are good.

The Cat That Sees Death

Sometimes I am just amazed by how much it is that we don't know.

Cat said to predict nursing home deaths

Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours.

His accuracy, observed in 25 cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live. [The Star]

Wow.

My grandparents used to tell me stories of how dogs all across Dhaka (and the villages) had started to bark untiringly on the night of the 24th of March, 1971, two nights before the Pakistani army had started their operations against civilians. In Bangladesh, they also believe owls and dogs are harbingers of death.

Goodbye - for now

This post has been some time coming (not to mention it's the 400^th post too).

It's been a wild ride. I can't believe that my first post was actually about a free movie offer. It picked up from then on. I wrote about many things. Some of it even got linked to by others.

I met a lot of lovely people through this blog (and some of them were even girls!). I read a lot of mind-broadening perspectives as I followed links and discovered the wonderful world of bloggers. A lot of readers and commentators I have grown to cherish hearing from.

Recently I went back and read a few posts I had written previously, on various topics. Then I read my recent posts. Somewhere, I felt, the tone and zeal wasn't the same. The passion wasn't there.

I am taking an indefinite break. A sabbatical, if you will. I don't know when I will be back. Perhaps in time for Eid. Perhaps not. In any case, I couldn't leave without saying good bye.

Goodbye.

Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix - Disappointing!

No spoilers - beyond the trailers.

So this is what I had been doing for the last four days - each day I watched one Harry Potter movie, from the first to the last one, in preparation for Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix.

I have a bad record for the Harry Potter movies. I never watched the first one before I had seen the second one - and when I did - it was a late night show. I fell asleep in between the movie. The third movie I enjoyed the most. The fourth movie was again a late night show. And once more, I fell asleep.

So this time I promised myself I would go to an early show - but first, here's a small recap of the four previous ones.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - good intro to the series, good movie and lots of entertaining parts.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - the best thinking movie of the series. I really, really enjoyed it as it has a lot of secrets and clues and mysteries that fall into place by the end.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - the best action movie of the series. This was my favourite movie of the series up until two nights ago, but still remains a very, very good film. Has a fast pace, lots of action, bits of mystery, and my favourite - time travel.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - garbage movie. The worst movie, a total bore, complete lack of coherence where the only significant part is the return of You-Know-Who.

So, what do I make of Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix?

I am ... somewhat ... disappointed in the movie. It wasn't as bad as the Goblet of Fire, but that isn't saying much. First, the pros.

It wasn't boring. I never felt the need to yawn or check my watch - the pace was kept throughout the movie as the story unfolded and never got bogged down. The acting was superb (especially of the character Dolores Umbridge). You felt for the characters when the "good" side fought amongst themselves. There were some great visuals (like the Thames fly-by). The confrontation scenes (be it with You-Know-Who or with Dolores Umbridge) were great, both for their visuals and for their impact.

Now for the cons. First, there was NO MYSTERY in the movie! Like, in the Chamber of Secrets, you had the puzzle as to who the Heir was, or what or where the Chamber was. In the third movie you had the identity of the Prisoner, the mystery of the Dementors and so on. At least in the fourth movie you had the puzzle of the challenges. This movie? It can be summarized by "a bunch of stuff happens".

Next, Harry's story doesn't "grow" by much. You don't find out more about his parents, or anything. I was very, very disappointed with that aspect. I thought they would reveal more stuff about Harry Potter's history.

Next, the over hyped "kiss" scene. There is absolutely ZERO chemistry between Harry Potter and Cho Chang. And if I was the Chosen One who has fought off You-Know-Who, my choice would have been a bit better than Cho Chang! That Patel girl was much better.

All in all, this is probably tied with the Philosopher's Stone due to the presence of some great scenes, and a whole class apart than the magnificent second and third installments of the series, but overall far better than the garbage fourth movie.

Sicko and the Health Care Issue

I remember once I was in southern Georgia, US, on my way to Orlando, Florida. We stopped at this little town where a buddy of mine worked, to rest for the night. He took us for dinner at this small family restaurant, along with a few co-workers of his. During dinner, the conversation shifted to voting.

"So you guys are all voting this year?" I casually asked his colleagues.

"Oh yes," one tall woman replied, "but we haven't gotten our vote card yet."

"Vote card?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she replied, "our company gives us cards with the candidates positions and who they recommended to vote for, and we do accordingly."

My jaw was like an :-0 in shock. And it is because of people like her (and she was not an aberration I found - many in the south of USA are truly politically ignorant hicks who never step out of their own towns and have no knowledge - nor interest - in what is going on at home and abroad), people who never think, yet they vote, that I despair of films like Sicko ever having any impact in the US.

Sicko was not a bad movie (though I maintain Moore's Bowling for Columbine was his best). It did paint a rosier picture of Canadian health care than what is the truth, but despite all the purported problems of our health care, I would not change it at all for an American-style user-pay-as-you-go health care. It is baffling that the richest, most powerful nation in the world cannot afford to provide adequate health care for more than half of its citizens.

It's also surprising how environment is suddenly the top issue amongst all the supposedly educated elite and the secular thinkers of the American political establishment. Yes, Gore my man, kudos to you for raising the profile of an issue you did nothing major about for eight years as the vice-president, but this Live Earth thing wasted more energy than the Canadian army in a single day in Afghanistan! Yes, I know the intent was to raise awareness, but everyone already knows about the environment! It is easy to latch on to the environment as something to do, because other than petitioning the government to sign the faulty Kyoto agreement you don't really have to do much.

While watching Sicko, there are many times I was glad that man, I am Canadian. However, one nagging thought did keep interrupting me - wait times. There are times when I had been down with something, or had a broken bone wherever, and had to wait a week or two before seeing a specialist. In those one or two weeks, pain killers would have to do. At those times, I sometimes wish I could have the option of paying and seeing the specialist early.

However, problems with our system are limited (and caused by) how we run our system, not with the system itself. For no other reason do many Buffalo citizens still try and somehow manage to obtain an Ontario Health card.

Observations of a Desi BBQ

It would be nice if the BBQ set was, you know, ASSEMBLED, before the aforementioned picnic day. If it's your responsibility to bring the grill, you should NOT be stopping off at Walmart on the day of the BBQ!!!



We are now experts in assembly of a BBQ in under 10 minutes!

Women are all about equality of the genders and same rights and all that stuff. Except when it comes to food. Suddenly, it's "Ladies First".

Or to be more precise, Ladies (and their children and other lady friends who they let cut in the line) first.

Then there is the uncle who has appointed himself the unofficial Official Taster. He will come around every 10 minutes and bug the 'chef'.

"So beta, is that chicken done? It looks like it's done. You should take it out. You know what? Let me taste it, I can tell you INSTANTLY if it's done or not...."

The other uncle is the Ph.D. of BBQ.

"Son! Don't arrange the charcoal bricks like that, you need air to flow between the bricks. Here, leave a hole... right here. We need to make the pile around 30 cm high, that should do it. Now, we need to factor in the wind, which is blowing from the north east. So our grill should face east, as the vents are on the south side, so we can have cross ventilation. NOW... for the lighter fluid, I need you to stand back.. this much.... and on my mark, squirt it out! One, two, three... SQUIRT!!!"

At least this is better than the uncle who looks at the lighter fluid, and then his eyes light up as he relives a long lost childhood fantasy, grabbing the bottle and squeezing for all he's worth, treating it like a water canon, as if he's firing ten rounds against an invading army. Apparently making a fire visible from space is a good way to get the BBQ going.

If you, while busy with the chicken, suddenly turn around and see ten people with tongs and gloves ready to help you, relax, they are not there to help you. They are just there because a picture is going to be taken by the official Facebook photographer. Frauds, all of them!

If someone repeatedly comes and asks you "Is the chicken done yet?", after the 5^th time it becomes halal to feed them half-done chicken.

Transformers - 4.5/5

GM had this Chevy Transformers Night last night. Free movie premier (at a drive-in), plus food, drinks and entertainment at the Docks for Chevy owners only. Enter the Mousehunter, who got a couple of free tickets to the event and generously invited me and another friend to accompany him.


Performers at the event.

The Movie Review

Transformers was meant to be a summer blockbuster and it was. It was like sitting in a Formula 1 car. Who cares where the car is going, how's the weather outside and what color the car is - as long as the ride is fast, good and exhilarating, that's all that matters. That's the movie for you - it's great fun, complete entertainment, fully worth seeing on the big screen. Overall - 4.5 out of 5.

There was a plot of some sort. There was a hot girl (very hot). The pace was good and fast - at no time did the film lag or I fidget in my seat (well, except craning my neck in the seat to get a better view out of a side window at times :-p).


The drive-in area.

The Action

With lots of money to burn, you expect the action to be good - and it was - for the most part. The attack on an army base, the desert scenes, the fights in LA and the chases - all choreographed well. When the robots were fighting each other though, it was all a blur. All you see is confusing motion. You don't even know what's happening and then it's all over.

The Transformers

I was a bit disappointed with the transformation sequence. Where's the cool slo-mo of the car/truck/plane-to-robot? It was all a blur. Suddenly they start whizzing and pop! - you have a 20-feet robot. It looked too-CGI and not realistic enough. The robots, I am sad to say, looked more bits-and-pieces than a solid piece.


The old (better, IMO) Optimus vs the new (supposedly slicker) version.

The Fun Factor

Some of the script was really funny. The movie never failed to entertain even for a moment, and even though there were shades of patriotic themes (it's released on the 4th of July weekend after all), it wasn't 'over the head' and in-your-face, you could suspend your senses and enjoy it all.

The Nostalgia Factor

"I AM OPTIMUS PRIME!!!"

Enough said. Go see the movie already.


My prize for winning the Tribond Tuesdays Competition. Thanx again, Mousehunter.

See also: The Mousehunter meets Mezba