Did you see this in the top 10 trending topics for Toronto last week? It was there for THREE days, you guys. That’s on some London Riots or Egypt-type shit. As a member of the #bramptongirls tribe (shout out Springdale!) the hashtag fascinated me. “#BramptonGirls is trending. tears of joy,” I tweeted. That got me six retweets, my most far-reaching Twitter ripple to date.

It’s a polarizing topic, #bramptongirls. For some, mostly scorned boys and bitchy girls, it was an excuse to talk smack about trashy, duplicitous, bumbling suburban girls. The other side (#bramptongirls and the boys that love them) told a story, via a series of poorly spelled, real-talk paeans, of multi-culti chicks with generous physical attributes and a hustler mentality. And then there were those who made the duh-obvious choice to spew racial BS about Brampton’s growing black and brown population.

For all its growing population and booming economy, Brampton can feel like a small town at times. It’s why, since I was a kid, I wanted out. That said, I’ve been thinking more and more about how distinct my coming-of-age narrative is and how that’s inextricably linked to the racial, economic and cultural mess that is Brampton: working at the mall from a young age, identity crises, taking the bus everywhere, movies on a Friday and Saturday night, all ages clubbing and very early access to alcohol, striving to date Toronto or Scarborough guys because they’re cooler. Brampton is kind of fucked up for a young person!

But beyond the self-defensive, aggressive picture woven by #bramptongirls tweeters, there’s an interesting flash of agency this points to: all of these (overwhelmingly) young people are on their phones or computers and tweeting. It might not have the blowhardy har-har of #new911calls or whatever the “Downtown Elite” are talking about, but that makes it no less valid and viable as a source of information and community, as well as a barometer of the way things are. The smart person will be the one who discovers how we can bridge these two worlds.

This post is part of the Ethnic Aisle, a blog about issues of race, ethnicity and culture in the GTA.

You rock old man. You rock harder than any 20-something skulking along Queen W.

Ok, so I’m overdue for a real post.  But I came across this blog and kicked myself for not having thought up the concept earlier:  Accidental Chinese Hipsters.

I think the title pretty much explains itself.  It’s an affectionate spotlighting of the best out-there style choices, as donned by a group of completely unintentional older Chinese folk.  I have no idea what they’re thinking when they get ready in the mornings, but I am ALL about whatever thought-process brings them to these conclusions.

Skintight acid wash? Check.

They say mixing patterns is really in this summer

Day Glo baseball cap? (With matching jumpsuit, of course)  Check.

What about a grungy-looking toque, shoved back from the face and perched rakishly askew for added “I don’t give a f*ck” effect? You better believe it.

Of course, the best part is that all of these items were likely, and plausibly pulled from the back of a closet– and not from the racks of American Apparel or your neighbourhood’s ickiest army surplus.

For shame, hipsters of North America!  You’re getting owned by some seriously awesome NaiNais and YeYes.

Can you think of more stylish sun protection? I think not

Dark of the what now?

John Swansburg over at Slate argues that the original Transformers movie — the 1986 animated classic that memorably killed off Optimus Prime — is the best Transformers movie to date. It’s not a hard argument to make, even though The Transformers: The Movie doesn’t make much sense when you re-watch it as an adult. (We’re comparing it to the work of Michael Bay here, so yeah.)

Article aside, the comments section features an interesting reply from longtime screenwriter and animator Flint Dille,who worked on the film.

Says Dille:

“Just for the record, the Prime Killing was not something we did lightly and ultimately its probably why people remember Transformers and not GoBots. The thing that was funny was that I was trying to do it like the scene where John Wayne died in The Alamo — the death scene that scarred and inspired my childhood (20 years later I saw it and remembered it almost frame for frame — torch, powder magazine BLAAAM, half of Santa Anna’s army was gone — well, I wanted it to be half)…. Steve Gerber, a G.I. Joe story editor (and creator of Howard the Duck) was helping me with it. He had a friend from New York coming over that day. The guy came in,. Long hair. Looked like somebody I’d have known from Berkeley. He was doing a Batman comic and was trying to figure out the final scene where Batman fought Superman. We told him our problem. He remembered the movie that scarred him as a child — 300 Spartans. We hammered away on Batman and Transformers all day. The guy, of course, was Frank Miller. Great friends from then on. Point is, Optimus was not wantonly murdered. And corporate motivation or not, it was the right thing to happen.

And yeah. Every childhood should have that movie where the hero dies and we’re forever scarred by it. It certainly doesn’t kill us, but it does make us stronger.”

Similarly, the G.I. Joe movie (1987) was originally going to kill off Duke but, after all of us freaked out in reaction to Prime’s death, Duke’s fate was changed and his “death” in the movie became a coma thanks to some easy dialogue changes.

Thanks to Dille and Swansburg for reminding how heartbreaking the death of Prime was for so many of us. Mission accomplished, I’d say — there hasn’t been an onscreen or comic book death since that has shocked me to anywhere near the same degree. For more from Dille on the making of The Transformers: the Movie, check this interview from (ahem) The Cybertron Chronicle.

A lot of mainstream narratives that follow Indian representation in pop culture are full of shit: everything’s Bollywood, and spices, and traditionalism, and anthropomorphic deities. In the hands of inexperienced commentators, sorry, but I expect nothing less. For FLARE, in the hands of a should-be-versed commentator, Anokhi EIC Hina P. Ansari (who wrote an interesting IIFA-themed piece about her director grandfather), I found juvenile, reductive drivel?

Y’all, why was none of this stuff questioned???

Re: Saif Ali Khan, “His comic timing makes you melt and he could charm his away into the heart of any parent.”

I mean, if we’re going there, my dad wasn’t even alive during Partition and he holds an active grudge so I don’t think any Khans will be doing any charming in my household. In all seriousness, why is this parochial traditionalism even being pandered to grown-ass women capable of making their own decisions?

On Deepika Padukone: “Co-starring Shahrukh Khan, this global blockbuster propelled this Brahmin beauty to the stratosphere.”

In university my friends and I met an international student who mentioned something about caste outright. Like, 17-years-old at the time, we took this to the logical, obnoxious extreme, cackling “HI, I’M RAVI AND I’M BRAHMIN,” every time we saw the poor guy. I was hella dumb in university but even then I knew to call people out on this type of bullshit. I’m thinking of insisting on being adjectized only as a Shudra sweetheart from now on.

Filmi mag or FLARE? “Chopra is a bombshell with a capital B.”

Oh, maybe an intern did write this?

AND, they used this picture of Aamir Khan:

WHEN IN REAL LIFE HE LOOKS (SMOKING!!!!) LIKE THIS:

This post is part of the Ethnic Aisle blogging project. If you’re interested in race, ethnicity, diversity and the GTA, check it out.

Oh sure, everybody knows that people make generalisations about other people based on ethnicity. I’m supposed to be good at math, for example, or be able to run atop a cedar forest (which I totally can do).

I’m not here to throw a pity party though. Let’s face it, we’re all human, we all make assumptions. So here are 10 things I take for granted about other people just because of where I’m from.

1) People know what HK is.

What, you mean you don’t refer to Hong Kong by its initials? I thought that was a universally accepted colloquialism, like A.C. or the P.R.C. Maybe I should have just named this point “Chinese people love acronyms”.

2) Not everybody eats all of an animal

Sure, people might think I’m weird when I say I eat tripe or chicken feet on the regular. But you know what? If your entire diet consists of items I can order at a Firkin pub, I’m judging you just as much — so, you know. We’re square.

3) People have heard of ‘Infernal Affairs’

That’s INFERNAL with an F. What the heck is a Departed anyways?

4) Everyone is tiny

I make this assumption because in Canada, I buy clothes sized XS and they fit me perfectly. In Hong Kong, I am a size XL. That kind of disparity will confuse a dude.

5) Cups are redundant

True story: until about grade 10, my house had no cups. We only had mugs. I mean, I guess my parents figured why have separate vessels for hot and cold liquids when you could drink both out of a mug perfectly well? And the weird part is all my friends had no cups either! I swear cups weren’t in vogue amongst Hong Kong immigrants until 1997. I will believe this until the day I die.

6) Instant Noodles are an acceptable breakfast food

I’ve touched on this before in Ask a Chinese Person, but eating instant noodles will not make you a social pariah in Hong Kong. If you are scarfing down pre-packaged Beef Flavoured Ramen noodles at 9am, it does not signify that you need to get your shitty life together or that you’re still living like a college student. It means you are having a delicious brunch, particularly with a raw egg and some spam. Bon appetit.

7) Girls expect to be doted on

Speaking of generalisations, I feel I can safely say that in Hong Kong dating culture, men are… how shall we put this delicately… whipped? It’s very common to see a dude carrying his girl’s Gucci purse around the mall for her, even when she has nothing in her hands. Or standing beside her in a clothing store while she picks out dresses while holding her shopping bags. It’s weird. But it’s true.

8) Pizza Hut is a classy dinner

Ok, FIRST OFF, in HK people like thousand island dressing on their pizza. SECONDLY, Pizza Hut is a classy joint over there. I mean, it’s the same Pizza Hut, but it’s not the equivalent of Pizza Hut here, if that makes any sense. It has the cache of say, The Keg. It would be fine to take your parents to Pizza Hut for their birthday. So reverse that and imagine going somewhere The Keg was considered junk? Culture shock!

9) Parents do not show affection towards each other

Unless you mean helping each other do chores around the house. But no joke, I have never seen my parents kiss. Ever. Unless they were just accidentally head butting each other in the face reaching for the same item from the car cubby.

10) All kids live at home as long as they want

When I found out Western parents encouraged their kids to move out, I was blown away. If my folks had things their way, we’d be like a farm house with all my siblings raising their children in the same building. As it were, living at home into your 30′s is completely typical amongst many people I know. It’s cost efficient you know — mortgages are for the weak.

This post is part of the Ethnic Aisle blogging project. If you’re interested in race, ethnicity, diversity and the GTA, check it out.

We all know white people listen to bands with white people in them, so why can’t I be partial to bands with brown people in them? Oh, you ain’t know there exists a significant body of work beyond M.I.A.? THERE DOES:

1. Das Racist: Here’s a sample lyric from “Ek Shaneesh” which basically made me feel 75 per cent less alone in the world:

Listening to Three Stacks, reading Gaya Spivak
Listening to KMD and feeling weird about Naipaul
Fly or style warz, war style Warsaw
Listening to jams with they pops about dem batty boys
Listening to Can while I’m reading Arundhati Roy
Yeah, yeah, my pops drove a cab homes
Now I drop guap just to bop in the cab home

I MEAN, WE ALL FELT WEIRD ABOUT NAIPAUL, RIGHT???

2.  Shilpa Ray and her Happy Hookers: Shilpa Ray, the coolest possible incarnation of a harmonium-playing Bad Indian Girl (I can’t believe that website still exists).

3. Yeasayer: Anand Wilder: a name I’d hate on a white guy (judgy face, Devendra Banhart), but turns my eyes into hearts on a brown.

4. Woodhands: They’re Canadian so I want to take Paul Banwatt to my former Brampton high school and make him play songs in the cafeteria underneath a sign that reads, “Choices: You Have Them.” (Only I’M allowed to make these jokes about Brampton.)

5. Bat For Lashes: Her name is Natasha Khan and she painted her face, minus the lazy “tribal” connotations, before Drew Barrymore and Kelly Osborne. And, OMG, Gwyneth Paltrow in that “I AM AFRICAN” campaign, which makes me feel both embarrassed for her + pukey. Back to Bat For Lashes who also rules because she did Kings of Leon’s song better than them!

6. Vampire Weekend: I actually don’t really give this band a pass because their music is basically colonialism in MP3 form. But Rostam Batmanglij is Iranian and gay, and I always give it up for the gay ethnics (hey parents, they exist!). OH, but Vampire Weekend is all happy sounding and shit, and how can I not be into that? All the more reason to be suspicious. Shout out Miriam and Amadou!

7. Jai Paul: Drake’s lifting of Jai Paul’s one and only song, “BTSTU,” means it is obviously the hottest shit out. Know how I know I’ve got a trace of “Hindustan Zindabad” in me? Because hearing Jai Paul’s whispery-sweet vocals used to fuel sub-par rapping (“too fucking busy/too busy fucking”) put me in a faux-murderous rage for at least five hours. Oh, shiiit!

8. Norah Jones: ROYALTY. Aside from owning a few 70s pop LPs, my parents basically don’t pay attention to any Western music. Here’s what my mom listens to now: bhajans, Bollywood oldies, Norah, bhajans. ALSO, OMG:

9. The Kominas: In grade six, I had the biggest crush on Tony Kanal from No Doubt because he was the first cool Indian musician I had ever seen. MY ultimate 90s couple broke up before I even knew they existed: Tony + Gwen = 4eva. The Kominas have multiple (!!) brown guitar players for maximum crush potential, plus they covered a Bolly classic at BBC’s Maida Vale studios, PLUS PLUS they are like, actually, part of a movement.

10. Vijay Iyer: A former mathematician turned jazz pianist who covered M.I.A.’s “Galang” on his Grammy-nominated album, Trio? Bestill my “Marry Up” heart.

Can’t not mention: Ramesh Srivastava (formerly of Voxtrot), Baria Qurieshi who left The XX, Soundgarden’s Kim Thayil, Panjabi MC, and the brown dude from Sum 41.

This post is part of the Ethnic Aisle blogging project. If you’re interested in race, ethnicity, diversity and the GTA, check it out.

The news, served on the interwebs with generous dollops of snarkiness and heathen skepticism, has literally been plastered on the walls of public transit and billboards around many fair cities (including Toronto) for weeks now.

Although I’m planning my next few days more around the long-weekend than I am for the second coming, my Evangelical Christian upbringing demands I at least hedge my bets. So, you know, here are some ideas to help you celebrate Victoria Day in style while also being cognizant of the fact the big Carpenter in the Sky might be dropping by to judge your eternal fate at any time.

1) Wear clean underwear

Just, duh, you know?

2) Make a themed playlist

Who says songs about the end of the world can’t also be long-weekend party tunes? In fact, I’d wager most songs about the Rapture are pretty darn great for a few beers and some light snogging. Asides from obvious staples such as REM’s classic “It’s the end of the world as we know it”, you might also want to throw in that new Brit-Brit track “Till the world ends”; it gets surprisingly catchy after the 11th listen. Also, for those who enjoy irony without fringing on actual offensiveness, include some actual Rapture (the band!) tracks. You can’t beat classic DFA cuts like “House of jealous lovers” to soundtrack a fireworks laden dance party in the Muskokas.

3) What is the best possible way to die?

So once you’ve answered this deeply personal question, plan to do it this Saturday at 6 p.m. It’s kind of a win-win isn’t it? I mean, if your ideal way to die is to explode from gorging on Ikea meatballs, if the world ends you might get your final wish! And if not, mmm… meatballs. Pass that lingonberry sauce please.

4) Avoid your more devout friends

Listen, everyone knows how the Rapture works. Jesus appears, we’re all judged and the chosen are whisked away to spend eternal life in heaven. All well and good if you’re actually picked for this cosmic sweepstakes, but what about the rest of us left here on Earth? I don’t mean this in an existential way, but practically speaking, if I go out for dinner with a party of eight and six of my friends are raptured, I sure as hell don’t want to be cold-shouldered by God and stuck footing the bill for food I didn’t eat! Why pile on problems? Life goes on man. Plan accordingly. Also, you know, check if your airplane pilots or cab drivesr are religious before boarding their vehicles. Arrive alive.

5) Don’t assume everyone still left around is non-Christian

Yo, trust me, this is a sensitive topic. It’s one thing to be some self-centered egoist who was too proud to indoctrinate themselves into an institutionalized religion, but there are going to be folks who thought they would be chosen and weren’t. So, you know, be cool man. Don’t just wander around the wreckage of Armageddon expecting everyone you meet to commiserate with you empathetically. Open conversations with something lighter and more inviting. Like “Gosh, what do you think is in that 7th seal?”.

6) Bring some band-aids

End times or not, always be prepared.

His response: “look at the comment which is like, ‘I guess it is a myth that black people can dance well.’”

LOL, YouTube comments: fucking your day up since 2005.

But dude’s gotta pay the bills. We all do. And you know what? It’s not like Gavras is the first director to make a commercial. Seriously though, in recent years and increasingly with ads designed for online viral capacity, I don’t think it’s fair to look down on artists for doing commercials at all anymore. In fact, I love commercials. They’re like short films, except you know, shorter, and make you want to buy stuff.

But whatever, right? Even good shows are ads these days anyways; watching Mad Men for example has made me an alcoholic stockholder in Canadian Club.

In that light, Gavras’ unveiled work — a very Gavrasish, intense spot for Adidas — is actually not a compromise at all. It’s pretty clear his artistic finger print is all over it. He even uses long-time BFF’s and personal house band Justice to soundtrack it.

Similarly, I love Kristen Schaal. I wish she’d get more work now that Flight of the Conchords is over, but if she’s gonna make some coin hawking a Playstation phone, at least she’s doing it in a way that is totally her, you know? Unlike some other celebs I’ve seen. Sure, it’s kind of an Old Spice rip-off. But if you’re going to appeal to the nerd who’d want to buy this phone, this seems like a pretty safe strategy. Also… fuel tank kills are the best.

Just like on the African savannah, there is a circle of life within the macro lens of Marshall McLuhan’s Global Village. One such online tradition is the revered and bi-annual making of snarky derisions about Olympic logos and mascots.

It should have come as no surprise than, that when the 2012 Summer Olympic committee took the wraps off their new logo in jolly old England last week, controversy quickly followed. Similar to previous Olympic logos, the reactions were mainly par for the course in terms of graphic slander; too trendy! too indecipherable! too garish! or even, apparently, too subconsciously Simpsons hentai?

Unlike Olympic controversies of yore however, there was one particular and unusual accusation that cut through the din, a glaring finger pointed at the kinetic London 2012 typeface that has caused more than a few double takes this week: the logo is too racist.

Today, Bahram Afsharzadeh, the secretary general of Iran’s National Olympic Committee announced the Middle-Eastern nation may consider boycotting the 2012 summer games because they claim the jagged logo spells out the word “Zion”, a biblical term used to describe Jerusalem.

The Iranians (who clearly have no other pressing issues to deal with) in the same memo, called on other Muslim states to protest the “racist logo”. A rudimentary google search reveals the offensive jumble permutation Secretary Afsharzadeh doth protest.

In the ultimate irony, of course, another parallel criticism has been that the logo bears a passing resemblance to a Nazi swastika (except you know, if Hitler rose to power in America in the mid 80′s).

Too Jewish. Not Jewish enough. POOR LONDON 2012! Sure, the redcoats won an Oscar for The Kings Speech this year but those hoighty toighty islanders also spent £400,000 on this logo for which they just can’t win!

Unsurprisingly, the 2012 Summer Games committee is denying their logo is racist in any way, although under the strangely withering glare of critics an event spoke person has recently hedged some bets by noting “”It’s not a logo, it’s a brand that will take us forward for the next five years.”

Looking at the logos of Olympic games past, it certainly does become apparent London 2012 was purposely trying to think outside the box. It doesn’t take a graphic designer to notice one of these things is not like the other, but only time will tell if the decision to be a trendsetter will make London the envy of Olympic hosts to come, or, you know, just a bunch of Nazi Zionist Perverts.