Fact one: we here at the Ashcan are a multi-ethnic motley crew. Think of us as the Captain Planet of blogs, with disparate elements from far-reaching corners of the world coming together to form a heroic, mullet topped defender of environmental justice.

Fact two: White people are probably the most under-represented, mysterious people to inhabit the Earth. Nobody knows anything about us; Hollywood doesn’t pay attention to our plights; sitcoms never feature, say, the day to day life of a fat White guy and his way too attractive wife; media only shows up when something goes wrong, never, ever just publishing mindless features about the silly and whimsical things we do; politics, don’t even get me started on that. As a White male I dream of the day I can vote for someone that can truly represents me. So in light of these societal atrocities, we present Ask a White Person.

(These are actual questions asked by real people.)

Why do you guys drink milk with your dinner?

I have no idea. It’s disgusting. I still have a friend who orders large glasses of milk with dinner when we go out. Just recently another friend ordered one with Sunday hangover brunch, which is a totally new level of gross.

I thought it was universal, but I guess it’s mostly White parents who always force their kids to drink milk, and for some people it just stuck. I prefer water, because the only time I drink milk is when it’s mixed with vodka and Kahlua.

At a rap show when hands are asked to be raised in the air, why do white people do this with their index finger pointed? I’ve noticed it’s exclusively white people who do this. It looks so weird.

This is funny because it’s something I’ve not only noticed, but thought of consciously when asked to raise said hand in the air and wave it like I just don’t care (That brought me back to 1995).

The reason is pretty simple: White people do not feel comfortable putting their fists in the air, especially when the performers are Black. That sounds bad but bare with me. It’s bad enough we appropriate so many cultural aspects from around the globe and dim them down for our consumption, but there is an extra guilt associated with making the Black Power symbol. I’m guessing most White people subconsciously raise that finger in the air because otherwise it just feels, well, a bit uncomfortable. The stupid thing is that it should totally be normal, and there is really no reason to feel self conscious about it, but why else would you notice it being an exclusive white thing?

And for the record, I usually raise my whole hand in the air, which come to think of it is probably worse because it sort of resembles a cross between a student trying to ask a question in class, and a heil Hitler.

Why is it hard for some white people to understand that they can empathize with people of colour without having to coopt the cause?

It probably has something to do with that guilt briefly mentioned up top, but in all honesty, I don’t think this can be generalized to all white people. I mean, I empathize, but don’t co-opt any causes (quite frankly, I’m just too lazy). My wife, on the other hand, is much more helpful and even works at a non-profit. That said, her office is extremely multicultural, and not just filled with a bunch of altruistic White do-gooders trying to help all the other “poor people of colour,” or whatever.

Why do white people love camping so much?

Because we’re supposed to God damnit. Even if we actually hate it. It’s in our blood.

Do you ever get tired of people identifying you as just White? Do you ever want to be like, “I’m not white, I’m German-Canadian. (Or whatever it is you are!)

Hey, I’m Finnish-Canadian, and deeply resent you thinking I am German just because I have gorgeous, sandy-blond hair, stunning blue eyes and an impeccable milky white complexion (Just kidding, one of my Grandmas is part German).

You know, it does get pretty annoying whenever the World Cup is on and everyone around you seems to have some other, much cooler team to cheer for, not to mention a little-fill in country here neighbourhood to cheer in, but once it’s over I really don’t think about it again. Besides, we totally own hockey, and soccer is lame.

I know you grew up in Peterborough, and I know it’s crazy white over there. When you first moved to the city did you have any culture shock being suddenly surrounded by so many POCs?

Well, first of all to clear up some misconceptions about Peterborough’s lack of diversity. In high schoool we had a Black person. His name was Kurt and he was toughest kid in our school. Plus, Koreans owned the convenience store up the road from my house, so at a young age I was already pretty immersed in the cultures of the globe.

As far as moving to Toronto, I was already pretty prepared. I lived in Asia for a while, which is the most messed up experience for a White person. You’re treated like royalty to your face, but there is a deep-seated racism against you (as an outsider) as well. We once weren’t able to rent snorkeling gear because of the colour of our skin. Oh, the oppression!

Why do folks wear shoes in the house? As an Asian, that just seems particularly crazy to me.

My friend does this every time he comes over. He walks in with these big clomping boots on and refuses to take them off, insisting that they are clean and showing me the bottom of the soles to prove it. Actually, a lot of White people I know do it, and I’m always yelling at them to take their shoes off, and they always come up with some excuse not to. But in all honesty, I turn around and do it at other people’s houses. You can’t really blame us though. I mean, there is the bending over, the unlacing of laces, and then the removing of shoes, and since only some of us still have servants to help, the rest of us have to do it all on our own. It’s exhausting.

What’s up with having like 15 pillows on a bed that you have to put away before you sleep on it?

I thought this was a girl of all colours thing? I really should have married outside my race. You wouldn’t believe how much time I spend throwing pillows on the floor one night, then pulling them out from under the bed, all covered in dust, a few days later.

Obviously, this has to do with our God-given right to be treated like royalty.

Do you consider people of Eastern or Southern European descent to be white? Like, say, Italians, or Russians.

Italians not so much. Italians are Italians.

Russians, for sure though. They even have a region that is named after White people. Plus, Russians are probably the scariest, toughest White people on the planet, so we need that to counter balance all the rest of the doughy, milk-drinking, shoes in the house wearing, finger raising softies that sit back on a bed of 400 pillows and co-opt all the causes of the world. It’s nice to know that some White people just want to look mean and drink vodka.

Simon and Jef have been really fascinated by all the porn parodies popping up, so they decided to watch one. That was a mistake. Here, they discuss the merits of “The Official Fresh Prince of Bel-Air Parody” starring Misty Stone, Melrose Foxxx, Sinnamon Love, Candice Nicole and Imani Rose, and directed by Dawayne Dane (good name!). Not sure if that “official” is official, but oh well.

The movie is loosely based on “Will’s Misery”, the Fresh Prince episode where Will meets Lisa (Nia Long) for the first time and she kidnaps him and ties him up in a cabin, and Carlton goes crazy and runs around the set. Classic. Let’s get into it:

Jef: Oh hey dude.

Did you uh…..wanna talk about porn?

Simon: I just want to say

above everything

how sad I was they didn’t do the theme song.

Jef: Yeah. And that interpretation they had of the Fresh Prince noises sounded more like Seinfeld.

With some drum beats.

Simon: So it’s hip hop.

Jef: There you go.

But yeah, you’d think they’d do the credit sequence at least.

Simon: For real.

I’m not an expert on porn

but I found every scene hilarious.

Is that intentional?

Jef: Every scene WAS hilarious!

Simon: The first scene with “JAZZ” and “HILARY”

I was almost crying.

Jef: Haha yes.

The set up is that Hilary belongs to some sorority named KiKiKi

or KaiKaiKai

which is like, KKK?

Simon: SHE KEEPS HER HAT ON!

Jef: Haha yeah and then the end happens on her hat!

Simon: lol

the end

Jef: I love that that scene includes the line, “Did we lose Geoffrey?”

Like, that’s how they explained the absence of a butler character.

Simon: They didn’t even throw Jazz out properly.

What do you think the budget on this film was?

Jef: I dunno.

On the one hand, looks really cheap.

On the other hand, looks like they built the sets from scratch, so that must have taken some coin.

Simon: But their sets…

I don’t think they’re built for this movie specifically.

They have one scene in a cabin

for like, NO REASON.

A cabin??

hahaha

Jef: Lol yo there is that great scene where they do the famous Carlton freak out

(which was actually kind of funny)

And the character runs around the set and crashes another porn set

And then ends up in a jail scene set at the end.

Simon: Yea, I got the impression they filmed in some sort of studio lot for adult movies.

Which, I did not know existed.

Jef: Yeah, and that girl looked genuinely surprised her porn shoot got ambushed.

Simon: Office staff seemed to be laughing.

I agree, that was the highlight of the movie.

I have to say, all things considered

Will wasn’t awful.

At least he tries.

Jef: Haha he looked absolutely nothing like Will Smith.

Simon: No

Jef: It’s like they tried the least with him.

Simon: but he kind of tried to act like him, hahaha

Like, Jazz

he just wore shades

and said

“I’m Jazz!”

Jef: Haha Jazz, true to form though, seemed to be the one laughing at himself the most.

Dunno if that was on purpose (doubt it), but it was a nice touch.

No wait, I take that back. That’s Carlton.

HE was laughing at himself the most.

Simon: I really liked that dude actually

it’s true!!

He was the only one

who kind of stayed in character during sex.

Well, I guess Hilary too

but it’s funnier with Carlton, because he had that Carlton grin the whole scene.

Jef: Hilary was like “get your grubby hands off me!”

Simon: “IS THAT HOW YOU DO IT IN PHILLY?!”

Jef: lol

Simon: Yo, so do you think they actually wrote a plot?

Jef: Haha no

Simon: Or they just gave people characters?

Jef: It really seemed like they just made stuff up as they went on.

Which would explain the amazingly random ending.

Simon: Like, I made a movie with my friends in high school for shits and giggles

and it looks like Citizen Kane compared to this.

Except my friends are Asian, so all the boobs are slightly smaller.

Jef: “34 DD.”

Simon: hahaha

Jef: “That’s ridiculous.”

Simon: Did you find the Uncle Phill scene slightly traumatizing?

Jef: AGH YES.

Simon: All I could think of was the actual Uncle Phil having sex

and that frightens me.

Jef: Dude, he was wearing a sweat band.

Which was a good call, I guess.

Simon: hahahahaha

I didn’t even notice that!

Jef: That was maybe the most uncomfortable scene for me, yeah.

Also cuz the performers looked miserable.

Simon: I was really hoping this would be Batman-level parody.

Jef: I think we got the bottom of a really deep barrel.

Oh hey, actually, another really disturbing scene?

THE ASHLEY SCENE.

That dude was like 15, right?

Simon: He looked pretty young

kind of like the kid from the Wire, but grown up, and in a porno.

Jef: Haha. Yes.

Simon: what’s his name….

he’s on Friday Night Lights now.

Jef: Please don’t make me picture this.

Simon: I was hoping he’d scream “MY NAME IS MY NAME” during the money shot.

Jef: Lol money shot.

Hey at the beginning when the teacher wrote his name on the chalkboard…did he write “Mr. Jacob’s”

Like, with an apostrophe?

And his class was called “Class 101″

Simon: He called it Introduction to Learning or something.

Not learning

just the introduction

I like the extras in that scene.

How often do adult films have extras?

That seems odd.

Jef: All things considered, those extras did a good job. I dont’ know how you can’t just laugh or look horribly uncomfortable.

Simon: I just realized when he does the black book scene

the spotlight isn’t even on him.

hahahahaha

Jef: I am laughing that there is a spotlight at all.

Simon: THE BUDGET.

Simon: I must admit, this is the only time I’ve ever mostly watched an entire adult film.

Jef: Lol.

Simon: Carlton.

He made this movie

and that’s saying a lot.

Jef: That whole last scene had some of the most hilarious dirty talk.

Like when he said, “I’m smacking ass, thank God at last, I’m smacking ass.”

Simon: Why was he wearing his sweater around his waist?

Jef: Yes that was weird, and then he had that thing tied around his thing.

It was really intricate and disturbing.

Simon: His throbbing manhood.

Jef: I am laughing.

Simon: I spent a few minutes trying to think of classy innuendo phrases.

Jef: There was another point where Carlton was telling the girl to “dodge it.”

Haha, there are no classy innuendo phrases.

Simon: That basically is my template for all intimate encounters going forward.

Jef: I have my entire favourite part written down.

Would you like to hear it?

Simon: Please share!

Jef: Ok, Carlton goes “Oh my gosh, I can see your butt.”

And she goes, “Do you like that?”

And he goes, “I…I think I do!”

And she goes, “You do. I can feel you do, you’re super hard.”

And he goes, “Haha yes. Yes, I am.”

FIN.

Simon: Slow clap!

I am also fond of

Her: oh yes. like that. you’ve done this before

Him: I… I’ve seen it in videos

Jef: Hahahaha

Yes, also:

Carlton goes “Oh gosh!” when he moans.

Simon: Yes!

And he says fudge.

Jef: lololol

That man is my hero.

Simon: Well, I wouldn’t go thaaat far.

Jef: Dude want to hear an actual joke I wrote in my notebook

?

Simon: Yes

Jef: That i thought was really clever at the time?

It’s about the blowjob Carlton gets in the last scene.

I called it a “slow-job.”

You know, because it was slow.

Simon: Is that a real thing?

I’m not down with street lingo these days.

Jef: I don’t know I just remember laughing really hard.

Simon: hahahaha

I think by far the redeeming factors were Carlton

and the fact Hilary left her hat on.

Jef: Yeah, and was all like, “Did you get some on my HAT?”

Simon: How did they not play Tom Jones to end it?

Jef: Haha yo they called him Tom Bones.

Simon: I mean, to have Carlton dance

I guess it costs money.

TRUE

THE BUDGET!

Jef: SO CHEAP.

He did do a little Carton dance thing at the end though.

Simon: I honestly think they made this with under $2000

Jef: Which was the most bizarre ending ever.

Simon: I’m not particularly versed in the form

but I feel like, even in terms of adult films

this was not a great one.

Jef: No yeah, this was a pretty horrible thing by any standard of a thing.

Simon: Like, I honestly feel like, although I laughed

because I watched this

karma is going to nail me later in life

no pun intended.

Jef: I don’t really know what the karma on something like this would be, and I don’t really want to.

Simon: Someone ties a knit sweater to your genitals.

Jef: Holy!

Man. Well, I can’t say this ruined my childhood or anything.

I’m glad they stayed away from any threesomes.

The last thing I need are Will and Carlton hi-fiving each other or something

Simon: Or incest.

Jef: Yes.

Simon: ew…

(huge long pause.)

Jef: Always a danger with these family-sitcom spoofs I guess.

Simon: I wonder if they had fun making this.

I mean, I know Carlton did.

Jef: Carleton had fun, and I think Jazz did.

Simon: Those slackers could all learn a thing from that dude.

Jef: Even Will looked bored.

Simon: now THAT’S an adult star.

The rest of them… just porn actors.

Jef: And he did it all while wearing a pink shirt.

Simon: salmon

Jef: Oh snap that just happened.

Simon: I feel I have to literally say ‘that’s a line from the porno’

or else nobody will understand.

Don’t forget to ENTER TO WIN in our Valentine’s Day giveaway, brought to you by the folks at LifeStyles.

Gonna send this video to my dad. One of the weird, defining moments of my childhood was finding out that my dad—a funny, happy-go-lucky, but confusingly uptight man—owned a motorcycle before my parents married. He also had long hair and a giant Bee Gees beard. Daddy’s two greatest loves are machines and India so I’m sure he’ll appreciate this video of a young schoolgirl blazing her way into BADMASH territory on the back of a hog. What you call “child abuse” or “inappropriate parenting” in North America, Indians call “preparing for any possible future outcome.” In this case, that outcome would be a future Phoolan Devi, but still. Also, WTF, at least her Dad is riding with her. Expected response from my father: “See, this could have been you if Mom let me keep the bike.”

Her start on MuchMusic in 2004 seemed timely. With Strombo out of the picture, and Sarah Taylor and Hannah Sung filling out the ethnic quotas, someone had to hold it down for the standard-issue blondes.  (Devon Soltendieck’s manorexic frame only counted as half a body).  You could say, though, that despite Miller’s carefully tousled hair and ample sparkly eyeshadow, there was still this bubbly, young thing peeking through– somewhat reminiscent of the Rachel Perry-type of days gone by.

In other words, hers was a face that could plausibly be found in nature.

And then…it all began to go a little screwy.  After calling it quits at MuchonDemand and becoming host of Canada’s SYTYCD, she’s quickly taken on an eerie resemblance to what I imagine a lovechild would look like between Joan Rivers and Meg Ryan.  Creepy winged eyelids  (one of which always seems to be in perpetual wink mode) and restalyne-stuffed lips have booted her from porcelain doll territory into something more akin to Chucky.  The fact that I haven’t seen a laugh line or brow crease materialize in over a year doesn’t help.  And she’s not even 30!

But this might be one of those instances where a post just can’t rival the thousands and thousands of words told by a few simple pictures.  And my guess is that if these words could spontaneously arrange themselves, they’d take the form of a persuasive essay entitled, “Stabbed in the Front: When Plastic Surgery Goes Wrong.”

The early days -- before Leah took her cat fetish to all an new level

Leah, circa 2008 - still annoying, but recognizable

"See you later natural lips!! Err-- MuchMusic!"

Unveiling the new "face" of Lise Watier. Oh Lise...not a good look for you.

]]> http://theashcan.com/2011/02/01/spectacle-the-devolution-of-leah-miller/feed/ 28 http://theashcan.com/2010/12/22/spectacle-some-tree-branch-with-your-brie/ http://theashcan.com/2010/12/22/spectacle-some-tree-branch-with-your-brie/#comments Wed, 22 Dec 2010 22:05:00 +0000 Avril http://theashcan.com/?p=7030

With Elaine out of town, Gary couldn’t even enjoy his dinner of brie and tree branch.

I am a self-admitted slave to retail therapy.  It’s not like I go out and rack up six-digit Visa debt, but there is something to be said for the little splurges that can smooth the rough spots.  Bad day at work?  New lipgloss.  REALLY bad day? Let’s talk leather.

But as someone who’s recently made the call to try her luck at buying a place, clothing racks have lost all lustre.  Instead, I find myself powerless against the draw of glossy home furnishing mags.  Of course(!) life would be better with a matching set of apothecary jars.  Where else does one store their 1 litre of Q-tips?

At least, I tell myself, buying these kinds of items serve some kind of a practical purpose.  Who doesn’t need a coffeemaker?  A set of measuring spoons?  Or…a hollowed-out, white porcelain reindeer in which to store your baked goods?

Enter Catalog Living.

The kids have been eating a lot less cookies ever since Gary started making decapitated reindeer noises every time they open the jar.

Yes, “Catalog” spelled the American way.  It took me a few times of trying in vain to type in the web address before I beat my textual imperialism to a pulp.  The blog is a daily jab at the lives of the people who live in home catalogues.  While most people feel longing at seeing the perfectly co-ordinated—and eccentrically styled—pages of Pottery Barn, West Elm, and Serena & Lily, actor and comedian Molly Erdman just couldn’t get past the ridiculous staging.

Here we are, told that THIS is the standard to which we should all aspire to model our homes.  And, really, if you walked into the room below… you’d probably walk back out and call the nice people at the place with the padded walls.

Upon entering the living room, guests are often torn as to whether Gary and Elaine deeply love America or are Russian spies.

Erdman’s send-up takes a bit of getting used to.  The entire site is written from the perspective of the middle-aged Gary and Elaine—the faceless couple who, by the looks of it, have a HUGE house, a litter of children, ranging from infant to teen, and a whole set of passive-aggressive issues that they demonstrate using their bizarre arsenal of furniture.

Behold, some favourites…

At 10:30 every morning, when Gary’s rolled up all his beige paper and put away his giant compasses, he takes a moment for himself to sit in his favorite chair and do a quick “Mork calling Orson” monologue.

Another Christmas, another level of hatred Todd has for Thompson.

On a cold winter night, nothing pleases Gary and Elaine more than snuggling up in their comfy metal chairs and tossing around the decorative polyhedron.

Gary Jr. was getting a little tired of his parents none-too-subtle digs at his recent bed-wetting phase.

"I am so rocking this look right now."

“Does Queen Elizabeth ever wear pants? Does she even OWN any??” (Really.  Does she??  I need to know.)

And if not… “Is Queenie the original Gaga?”

Kindred style spirits, together at last

What about “How did Gollum win the last season of ANTM?”

"Precious", she ain't

And “Why hasn’t Black’s Photos bought out www.blacks.com for their domain?” (I don’t know, but you should probably NOT check out what it actually is.)

All very pressing, pressing matters.  But today’s head-scratcher du jour:  “Who the hell takes the photos for “amateur” style blogs”?? Consider the porcelain-faced Jane Aldridge.

"This is my thinking face"

This teenage (yes, not even legal in Canada) southern belle proves that everything really IS bigger in Texas – wardrobes and egos, included.  Her Sea of Shoes blog is not only a testament not to her love of couture footwear and mystifying access to every coveted brand under the sun, each photo entry shows like a glossy double-spread out of FASHION.  Do a little digging and you’ll notice Mummy Dearest, Judy Aldridge, appears frequently in interviews and press opportunities.  It’s probably likely she’s willing to break out the DSLR daily in exchange for Jane’s gifted Chanel pumps.

What, then, to make of lookbook.nu?

Giving tree-hugging an all new meaning

I actually really like this site.  I think it’s fresh and fun… and yet also mind-boggling.

Surely not every fashionista with a good side has the help of a dedicated photog to chronicle their daily pulls?  And I’m not talking about cajoling your roommate to whip out the point-and-shoot and snap a few post-worthy pics.  I’m talking serious hair, makeup, location, and lighting.  Like… how do those conversations even go?

“Oh look—this table lamp just happens to cast perfect ¾ lighting – how convenient!  Hang on one sec while I seductively run my fingers through my hair…

Or, “Do you mind taking a quick pic of me?  Hop in the car, there’s a great field two hours from the city.  I’m just going to lay in the grass and pretend like I do this all the time.”

Or, “Hey—hey, it’s sunrise. *poke, poke*  Do you hear me?  It’s 5am and if we don’t hurry now I’ll never that golden glow for this.  And without THAT… this outfit is just kind of ridiculous for the mall.”

Either way… I don’t know who these magical friends are — but I wonder if they’re willing to come by sometime.  I could really use a new Facebook photo.

Fact one: we here at the Ashcan are a multi-ethnic motley crew. Think of us as the Captain Planet of blogs, with disparate elements from far-reaching corners of the world coming together to form a heroic, mullet-topped defender of environmental justice (AND BLOGGING).

Fact two: Chances are you know a brown person but may be guilty of reducing their culture to Bollywood and butter chicken and funny accents and maybe software programming/engineering/taxi driving/Slurpee-procuring. Dude, that’s racist. I am here to service your informational needs about my peeps, from the land of Hindustan and beyond.

Q. Why are your weddings so long?

A. To start off, I can only speak exclusively for Hindu weddings, never really having been to an Indian-Muslim or Sikh wedding. I won’t go into the details of each ceremony, suffice it to say that the actual portion most-non-family members see is recitations and religious stuff. But if you think four hours on a Saturday morning sitting in some banquet hall in Mississauga is long, that ain’t nothing on the pre-parties (there are mad pre-parties). Traditions vary by regions and, also, many diasporic Indians do “express” weddings. Mostly to appease you impatient fucks.

Q. Are Indians raised outside India down with Bollywood? Also, about Bollywood… how? why? what? I feel like second generation Chinese and Korean culture gets a decent amount of exposure. There was “Better Luck Tomorrow,” plus the entire Fast & Furious series to depict kids of immigrant parents born in North America as having a unique subculture. Have there been Indian equivalents I’m unaware of? All Indians I see in entertainment play cliches it seems.

A. It’s pretty safe to say that the childhood soundtrack of a brown kid anywhere in the world was probably exclusively Bollywood hits. I can’t explain away Bollywood except to say that it’s become a parody of itself (and of Hollywood). The movies I thought were semi-shitty in the ’90s are often exponentially better than what’s out now. If you want to know more about contemporary Bollywood I’m sure there are blogs out there. The singing and dancing, I mean, I dunno. It’s just what we do and probably serves as a form of escapism for a country where the concept of middle class is only just taking hold.

With respect  to alt-Hindi films there are a bunch, but you’re right, diasporic narratives are kinda hard to come by (though, to Bollywood’s credit, this is changing). Here are some well known standards: East Is East, Bhaji On The Beach, Pretty In Pink, Bend It Like Beckham, ABCD (a Kal Penn classic), Brick Lane, Monsoon Wedding, The Namesake. Deepa Mehta’s “trilogy” (Fire, Earth, Water) are amazing contemporary Indian films. Hey, weird aside, most of these films have female directors (Mehta, Mira Nair, Gurinder Chadha). There are also some good Bollywood-produced films that try and deviate from the shucking-and-jiving (see: Bombay, Black, Three Idiots). Um, this response is devoid of the reality that there’s probably the equivalent to all of this for Pakistani, Bengali, Sri Lankan communities as well.

Q. Does it bother you when people refer to Asians to mean exclusively of folks from SE Asia?

A. It kinda used to? But over in England, “Asian” refers to south Asian peeps pretty much exclusively (see?!) soooo I guess I don’t really care? I mean it bothers me that people would use a semi-lazy, all-encompassing term to talk about people from a continent that includes a retarded amount of diversity; it’s like when people say “Africa” because they’re too stupid to find out what country a person/place/or thing is from.

Q. Whenever I go to an Indian restaurant and ask for the food to be prepared hot, they ALWAYS assume I mean mild. When I do get it hot and can actually handle it, they are always surprised. Is this some sort of superiority complex that pertains to spicy food or something? Or do they just think all white people have wimpy palettes?

A. In grade school I knew a white girl who would fan her mouth and turn red if she ate BLACK PEPPER. Also, I’ve gone to Indian restaurants where the food has been completely bland and been surprised by my white dining companion’s comments on the spicy-ness. My people have been conditioned to think your people have fragile palates! Also, Indian food is all about the simmer and braise, (spices go in first) so for food that’s likely been made in large batches, it’s really unlikely a restaurant will just “add some spice” to make it hotter. Finally, if it makes you feel better, it’s not like they serve me the spicy shit. If you want spicy Indian food, go to the hole-in-the-wall places (or Brampton).

Q. I understand nostalgia and being into tradition and everything, but I’ve been to weddings with young Indian-Canadians there and the ONLY time they went on the dance floor was for Bollywood-type music. I couldn’t get off the dance floor quick enough. Am I missing something? I mean, the music is actually bad right, and this is just for jokes (akin to us whities ironically dancing to Stompin’ Tom)?

A. I find your allegation of “this music is actually bad, right?” culturally patronizing. It’s not really my thing, but it’s just different schit dude! Also, if they don’t play that stuff, old people won’t dance and a wedding is all about inclusiveness! Also: I’m just gonna assume your hosts have bad taste in music (sorreee!) because I’ve definitely been to weddings where there is a good balance. This is very possible.

Q. So, in Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom, what’s the bad guy on about when he keeps going “Kali Ma!!!” I don’t know what kind of language skills you have, but if you’re able to just translate this entire scene, that would be great. Is he just speaking gibberish?

A. Let’s skip just hoooooooooooooooooooow problematic that whole scene is! Ah, it hurts to watch! Um, I barely understand Hindi and it’s also really hard for me to understand Hindi spoken with an anglo-ish accent like that scene so I can’t really tell you what he’s saying. Kali Ma is the Hindu deity of, like, creation and destruction but I think she gets a bad rap for the destruction part and so is often, especially by binary-ass YT, associated with ‘evil.’

Q. Also from Temple of Doom: monkey brains? Did your people ever really get down with monkey brains?

A. I mean, it’s a big ass country, right? Maybe somewhere? Just like there’s probably some Canadian dude who eats squirrel tails or some shit. But, generally speaking, no.

Q. Finally, from Temple of Doom: do you hate Temple of Doom, or what? Or is that just good fun for you?

A. I hate you.

Q. Lastly, is it just me or are Indian films usually a good time but books by Indian authors usually a very depressing time? Is it just that my choices are skewed? What gives?

A. This speaks to my earlier point about escapism in film. But you can’t escape it in books! You’re right, I haven’t read very many Indian novels that are not depressing, but it’s a depressing country dude! Bollywood is designed to lull the populace, and outsiders, into a false sense of security. It’s PROPAGANDA MAN. Here are some of my favourite totally depressing brown people books: The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, Painter of Signs by RK Narayan, The In-Between World of Vikram Lall by MG Vassanji, Cinnamon Gardens by Shyam Selvadurai, The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri, Brick Lane by Monica Ali, Noor by Sorayya Khan. Oh and Hari Kunzru. V.S. Naipaul is a very popular writer of Indian descent (Trinidadian, though); but I fucking hate him so there’s that. And there’s also those bros Rushdie and Mistry.

This ain’t just about the weight. (Although there is that.) Without sounding like a horror movie, this is about persona. About soul. Carrie Fisher has in her possession Roseanne Barr’s soul. And it’s transforming her!

Everybody can wail that Fisher “looks unrecognizable” lately, but that’s only half true. Yeah, she certainly isn’t Princess Leia. She isn’t even Rosemary Howard, the character Fisher played on 30 Rock just three years ago as a flash of Liz Lemon’s lonely future. What she is, however, is entirely recognizable. Almost a decade’s worth of sitcom-level recognizability. Fisher has been slowly, slowly, morphing into Roseanne.

The “omg she got fat” angle is the easier storyline, and will overshadow how remarkable this is. But as far as talk show transformations go, this IS remarkable. Drew Barrymore morphing into a sexpot? Joaquin Phoenix morphing into a hobo? This is way cooler. She’s morphing INTO ANOTHER CELEBRITY. Check her out on last night’s Late Late Show:

Yeah, the weight, but holy shit, THE VOICE. The “haha I’m CraZY (institutionally so)” sense of humour. And the delivery? Where Roseanne was unladylike, I guess you could say Fisher is un-Leialike. Roseanne’s blue collar, domestic wryness isn’t really a fit for Fisher, who grew up the child of performers and was hitting the stage with her mom at age 12. But they meet somewhere in the uncouth middle, where the combustibility of mental illness and their severe skill for well-observed cracks can’t help but dig elbows into the ribs of safe American life.

Alright, maybe Fisher will never be as wonderfully dangerous as Roseanne was. But that doesn’t mean this couldn’t go somewhere interesting. I like Fisher as neo-Roseanne (or just flat-out Roseanne, if the morphing continues), if only for the fact that we lost Roseanne to kabbalah and plastic surgery long time ago. That’s the route one might have expected for Fisher. If she picks up where Roseanne left off — even if that just means kooky-loud and awkward-honest regular appearances on late night talks shows — I’m cool with that. Roseanne didn’t turn out to be as strong as we all wanted her to be. Fisher, though, ain’t going out as Slave Leia. And for me, “Roseanne” is a persona that television has been sorely missing for over a decade now.

Fact two: I am bad at analogies. But the part about us being diverse is totally true, and you know what? We’ve never taken advantage of our racy resources before by asking all the questions we’ve secretly been harboring about each others backgrounds. So, in light of educating the world (which happens to be goal 17 of my personal manifesto) I present to you the questions about Chinese people you probably didn’t even know you wanted to know.

Remember, these are all real questions from real people (well, from Jef, Jesse and Anupa, respectively).

Q: If Chinese food gives the rest of us major itis, how the hell do Chinese people stay awake all the time? The idea of eating Chinese food three meals a day + the stereotype of Chinese people being hard workers does not compute. Chinese people should be the laziest people around.

This can basically be summed up in two words: monosodium glutamate. This tasty little ingredient is at once what simultaneously makes commercialized Chinese food so tasty (along with instant Ramen) and so coma-inducing. It is more associated however with Chinese “fast-food” type places such as small restaurants and food court joints where you can get a box of noodles or rice for $3 flat (WITH A DRINK).

Almost no Chinese person would cook with MSG at home nor do higher end restaurants sully their food with this epicurean equivalent of crack cocaine. Bonus note: instant ramen is a common breakfast item in Hong Kong, often ordered in the morning and served with spam (seriously), a raw egg cracked into the soup and coffee.

Q: Wang and Huang are the same last name right? I stay pronouncing them slightly different just IN CASE.

Yes, in Chinese they originate from the same root name and are variations derived from different dialects. In fact, the following names are really all the same: Huang, Hwang, Wang, Wong, Wone, Bong, Oei, Oi, Ooi, Uy, Wee, Ng, Ong and if we expand to Vietnamese and Korean names, Huynh and Hoang.

More mind-blowing? Huang is only the 7th most common family in China.

Q: Does it kind of please you on some level that all us other Asians are always being mistaken for Chinese? Are you like, we run this Being Asian shit?

If you are an Asian who is not Chinese and regularly get mistaken as such, rest assured it totally goes both ways! I am often mistaken for Korean here in Toronto and, when abroad, am regularly mistaken for Japanese. To more directly address your query however, no, I do not harbor any sense of cultural imperialism over Being Asian, nor do I suspect this to be a sentiment amongst Chinese people at large. Except inside the Government of China of course – if those guys had things their way, everybody would be Chinese. Just ask Tibet!

Q: Why are there no Chinese country singers? I just got back from Nashville and didn’t see one. Not in the hall of fame, nor any of the honky tonks or the opry. What gives?

Having never been to the exotic locales of which you speak, I cannot say with absolute certainty, but I will posit a theory: because there are no Chinese people in Nashville? There are, however, Chinese country singers in the Chinese equivalent of Nashville. Apparently, this would be Yunnan province. Photographic evidence below.

Q: Why do Chinese girls always cover their mouths when they smile/laugh/eat?

This is an insightful question that only those who have spent time around actual Chinese people (read: non-English speakers) would have observed enough to ask.

Basically, this is a matter of etiquette. Not to perpetuate stereotypes, but there are a lot of demure Chinese girls out there. In fact, I would wager there are more demure Chinese girls than sassy ones out there despite what Hong Kong pop-culture would have you believe (and I know you are all up-to-date on your HK pop-culture right?). As a result, talking with food in your mouth or laughing gregariously are both decidedly unladylike (in a testament to lingering British colonial mannerisms). Thus the hand over the mouth; to hide said chewed up food or stifle any overly hearty laughter. Plus, you know, in general, being slack jawed — not so prim and proper.

Q: What’s the deal with Chinese people loving pork?

Well, for starters it’s delicious, no? But let’s be honest here – Chinese people love to eat everything. Isn’t that the joke? But you know what? Here’s a secret… it’s not a joke. Us motherfuckers will eat anything. We are the raccoons of cuisine. And we don’t just eat anything, we’ll eat every single part of everything.

Eating habits may be partly attributable to the sheer number of Chinese people around. With such a large population surely there will always be small groups that develop less than appealing habits which then get projected onto larger populations. It’s not like all Canadians eat seal, for example, but people in Peru might believe we do if someone told them so. Then again, I have personally tasted both dog jerky and water cockroach so… you know. Just stop judging us until you’ve tried it ok?

Wow, this answer got way off track.

Q: Do you like Manchu Wok?

Yes. Yes I do. I mean, I don’t love it, but I certainly don’t hate it. Make no mistake, this is bad Chinese food. But when you grow up eating rice every single day, sometimes even bad Asian food is more appealing than another bite of processed ground beef patty.

Also, it is a cost effective meal. If you order a combo to go, the volume of food to cost ratio is fairly high, and if there’s one thing everyone knows Chinese people most definitely like it’s a deal.

Q: Why is it so common for Chinese people to anglocize their names? If a person goes by/retains their Chinese name, are they considered “militant”?

For those unsure what this question is asking, Chinese people (very often) have two names; an English name and a Chinese one. True story, I cannot remember the last time my parents called me Simon. They refer to me exclusively as Yau Lai-Hai. Such is a classic example of the duel identities Chinese people must exist within.

The historical reasons we give ourselves and our children English names are hazy. When I posed this question to my parents, they simply shrugged and said that’s just what people do. They looked at me like I was asking them why they gave us names at all.

Some internet sleuthing revealed this great, pertinent article on Slate:

Laurie Duthie [is] a UCLA doctoral candidate in anthropology who’s finishing up her dissertation in Shanghai. Duthie has studied Chinese white-collar workers since 1997 and traces the popularity of English names in China back to the influx of foreign investment following Deng Xiaoping’s market reforms. With foreign investment came foreigners, and many of Duthie’s research participants told her that they got tired of outsiders butchering their Chinese names, so they adopted English ones

So, as I suspected, much of it has to do with convenience. Over time, this has become conventional practise and English is now even considered somewhat a status symbol in China. If you can speak English and have an English name, odds are you have an education, which probably means you have some money.

An interesting result of this cultural idiosyncrasy is that I personally know many individuals who have experienced the existential angst of picking their own English name. For better or worse, this means I have acquaintances named Jacky, Apple and Rainbow. Fine folks, all of them might I add.

To not have a Chinese name does not necessarily mean someone is militant, but it largely depends on context. Most rural mainland Chinese citizens for example do not need English names since they may never in their lives encounter anybody who speaks English.

If you do speak English however or live in an English speaking community, yet consciously choose to not adopt an English name or purposely choose to not give your child an English name, I do believe that is a very obvious statement about identity. The practice is so accepted amongst Chinese immigrants now that, in many of these cases I think not doing so indicates… not militancy perhaps, but at the very least hints at promoting values based on individualism as opposed to collectivism, without necessarily a racial or nationalistic impetus.

Q: Why do Chinese people call air conditioning “air-con”?

What do you mean? What do you call it?

I know I have brown skin, but do you think the Netherlands, with its weird yo-yo-ing immigration policies and all, will let me in? I have a British passport! No longer just a land of wooden shoes, and cute houses (see above), canals and lax pot laws, the sudden desire to go Dutch was prompted by this piece from Slate, with its tantalizing headline “Women in the Netherlands work less, have lesser titles and a big gender pay gap, and they love it.”

Though the Netherlands is consistently ranked in the top five countries for women, less than 10 percent of women here are employed full-time. And they like it this way. Incentives to nudge women into full-time work have consistently failed. Less than 4 percent of women wish they had more working hours or increased responsibility in the workplace, and most refuse extended hours even when the opportunity for advancement arises.

I’m sorry but that sounds awesome. Jessica Olien goes on to detail Dutch ladies of leisure who “hang out with their kids” and “garden” and do stuff that I feel would be more fun than climbing the corporate ladder of banality. Right?? Sure there’s something to be said about gender inequality and pay gaps, but here it seems like it this way and it means they’re less stressed out. Isn’t there something to say about that? All I know is that Amsterdam seems reaaaaal chill right now.