Categories
Uncategorized

Family ties, Iraqi style

Here in North America, marrying one’s cousin is considered to be on the icky side, best left used as fodder for slightly edgy humour. The most mainstream example of cousin-marrying humour comes from an episode of The Simpsons(Lemon of Troy) in which the founding of Springfield and its rival town, Shelbyville, are explained:

Springfield: People, our search is over! On this site we shall build a new town where we can worship freely, govern justly, and grow vast fields of hemp for making rope and blankets.

Shelbyville: Yes, and marry our cousins.

Springfield: I was — what are you talking about, Shelbyville!? Why would we want to marry our cousins?

Shelbyville: Because they’re so attractive. I, I thought that was the whole point of this journey.

Springfield: Absolutely not!

Shelbyville: I tell you, I won’t live in a town that robs men of the right to marry their cousins.

Springfield: Well, then, we’ll form our own town. Who will come and live a life devoted to chastity, abstinence, and a flavorless mush I call “rootmarm”?

According to this New York Times article, the situation is the opposite in Iraq: it’s expected that you marry your cousin:

Iqbal Muhammad does not recall her first glimpse of her future husband, because they were both newborns at the time, but she remembers precisely when she knew he was the one. It was the afternoon her uncle walked over from his house next door and proposed that she marry his son Muhammad.

“I was a little surprised, but I knew right away it was a wise choice,” she said, recalling that afternoon nine years ago, when she and Muhammad were 22. “It is safer to marry a cousin than a stranger.”

Her reaction was typical in a country where nearly half of marriages are between first or second cousins, a statistic that is one of the more important and least understood differences between Iraq and America. The extraordinarily strong family bonds complicate virtually everything Americans are trying to do here, from finding Saddam Hussein to changing women’s status to creating a liberal democracy.

Nepotism, civic duty. To-MAY-to, To-MAH-to.

Now don’t get me wrong here: I’m big on family ties. I think that when done right, they teach you about love, kinship, cooperation, teamwork, sacrifice and loyalty, qualities that translate well into extrafamilial situations. However, when carried too far, the world gets split into two kind of people: kin and strangers.

Once you’ve got that kind of binary thinking going on, the next is Mafia morality: Be honourable to and trust only the family, be treacherous with and distrust everyone else. You socialize with, hire, vote for and help only those with whom you have blood relations, rather than picking the “best” person. Anyone who’s done any kind of web site development, especially during the early days of the dot-com bubble will be familiar with the disasters that this can cause; in fact, that’s the reason a term like “nephew art” exists.

Some of you will point out that this sort of corruption isn’t limited to group joined by blood ties. “What about Enron?” you might ask. Enron, while not a company made up of blood relatives, practiced a corporate nepotism where those “inside the circle” got treated well at the expense of those outside (many of whom were Enron’s own rank-and-file employees). Enron’s structure was a an analog to a “family” model; Ken Lay has even been described as the company’s “patriarch”.

Putting value judgements aside for a moment, if what is reported in the article is true, the differences between the North American and Iraqi social structures are bound to create misunderstandings of intent on both sides. I had to laugh out loud at this passage at the end of the article:

Sheik Yousif and his sons said they put no faith in American promises of democracy — or any other promises, for that matter.

“Do you know why Saddam Hussein has not been captured?” asked Saleh, the oldest son of Sheik Yousif. “Because his own family will never turn him in, and no one else trusts the Americans to pay the reward.” Saleh dismissed the reports that Americans had given $30 million and safe passage out of Iraq to the informant who turned in Mr. Hussein’s sons.

“I assure you that never happened,” Saleh said. “The American soldiers brought out a camera and gave him the money in front of a witness, and then they took him toward the Turkish border. Near the border they killed him and buried him in a valley. They wanted the money for their own families.

Recommended Reading

Spotting the Losers: Seven Signs of Non-Competitive States. An article that appears in PARAMETERS: US Army War College Quarterly, Spring 1998, Vol. XXVIII, No. 1. According to author Ralph Peters, the seven habits of unsuccessful states are:

  • Restrictions on the free flow of information.
  • The subjugation of women.
  • Inability to accept responsibility for individual or collective failure.
  • The extended family or clan as the basic unit of social organization.
  • Domination by a restrictive religion.
  • A low valuation of education.
  • Low prestige assigned to work.
Categories
Uncategorized

Meeeeeeeeat!

“Here at MeatShake Corporation,” the site says, “we have a simple vision: Meat. Lots of meat.”

I like the idea behind their Celebrity Meatshakes, especially the lamb shake named for Lars Ullrich from Metallica: “Mutton Else Matters”.

Categories
Toronto (a.k.a. Accordion City)

Movie night at Zen Lounge

My friend and Queen Street West club bartender extraordinaire Nikki Galligan informs me that her place of employment, the Zen Lounge (526 Queen Street West) is showing two movies on Monday night (September 29th) at 9:00 p.m.:

Admission is a mere $2.

Nikki informs me that the bar will be open, there will be a smoking section, comfy couches will abound, popcorn will be available, and the movie sound will be run through the main club sound system.

Categories
Uncategorized

Quotes of the week

Jewish Buddha is the weblog of a law student who’s studying in Washington, DC. He’s currently looking for articling jobs, and if you happen to be someone with hire/fire authority at a law firm, you may want to give his resume a look, as he seems to be a pretty nice guy.

(Hmmm. Maybe that’s not what law firms are looking for. )

Anyhow, two lines from his weblog jumped out at me. Here’s the first, which is about salaries:

Proof that law students live in a different world: We say things like, “Yeah, I was thinking of working there until I realized they only pay first-year associates $110,000,” without a trace of irony.

Remember, that amount is in real US dollars, not “Canadian Snow Pesos”.

The second, on the absolving power of “hotness”, if one possesses sufficient amounts thereof:

“She’s not nearly hot enough to be half as annoying as she is.” — my roommate, TV Critic genius.

Jewish Buddha, your roomate and my roomate should get their own TV critique show.

Categories
Accordion, Instrument of the Gods It Happened to Me

They weren’t kidding when they said "at cost"

The club called Shmooze (is the misspelling intentional?) that I mentioned in this entry really did sell booze at cost last night. Between the hours of 5 and 11 p.m., cocktails were priced at CDN$1.25. For my friends who live outside Canada, that’s just over 92 cents U.S., .80 Euros or just over .55 British Pounds.

The night got even cheaper as it wore on, because the accordion is a device capable of turning music into free alcohol. More on this, and The Great White Collar Socialization Experiment later.

Categories
Uncategorized

The photo for "Best. eBay auction. Ever."

eBay has since taken down the auction for the phone I mentioned earlier. However, having guessed that the photo might not meet with eBay’s approval, I saved it. Once again, I must point out that although it’s only slightly racier than photos you’d see in MAXIM, it may not be safe for your workplace.

Come to think of it, I could’ve saved the entire page. Well, I got the important part, anyway.

Categories
It Happened to Me

I don’t want to kill the Buddha, just this one Buddhist

If you meet the Buddha, the saying goes, kill him.

(Want an explanation of this saying? Check out the sidebar at killingthebuddha.com.)

Big City Buddhism — the new-agey North American variant of Tibetan Buddhism — is the equivalent of Born-Again Christianity in the deep south, which in turn is like that low-rise jeans/thong underwear combo: fashionable, but stupid. Big City Buddhists are slightly more annoying because it’s currently the hip religion. Even Chinese hipsters are getting into it, which I suppose is sort of like the “wigger” phenomenon in North American suburbs.

My own philosophy for religions and ethical systems is pretty much the same as my philosophy for time-management systems, exercise regimes, diets and standards for computer programming:

  • Pick the one that’s right for you.
  • Stick to it like glue.

(Come to think of it, that’s an approach that could be considered Buddhist.)

Last night, while doing a little “cafe coding” at Tequila Bookworm — yes, the cafe where Worst Date Ever started and where I met the New Girl — some guy struck up a conversation with me because he noticed that I was reading a copy of Tricycle, a magazine that calls itself “The Buddhist Review”. It’s a good read; I especially like the interviews with people of all faiths where they talk about how their belief systems intersect with Buddhism (it reinforces my belief that our commonalities as human beings far outshine our differences).

We got into a conversation and at some point, I referred to Buddhism as a religion. I forget that this tends to annoy pedants and newbies and especially the pedantic newbies.

“Buddhism is not really a religion per se, it’s just that our limited Western understanding paints it as such,” he said, with a rehearsed cadence-free delivery of a half-awake Catholic reciting the Apostle’s Creed on autopilot at too-early-considering-the-night-before Sunday Mass.

“Except for the bit where it has gods, monks, spirituality, reincarnation, a Golden Rule, codes of conduct, and some kind of cosmic scorekeeping system.” i replied. “You’re like some bald guy saying ‘It’s not a toupee, it’s a hair replacement system‘.”

If your brain is loaded with blanks, I always say, do not shoot your mouth off.

“You just say that because you don’t understand the Asian mindset,” he retorted. He was a pasty caucasian, whose skin I could’ve used for testing the white balance on my digital camera. I, other the other hand…well, I think this photo will explain my incredulity at his remark.

I stared at him long and hard for a moment, seeing if the penny would drop.

“You’re Asian?” he asked weakly. “I thought you were Hawaiian.”

I’ve been getting mistaken for that lately.

“Oh…it’s just that…”

Oh shit, here it comes, I thought.

He then said those four stupid words. Those four words that drive me bonkers. You probably have guessed what they are already:

“…you speak good English.”

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH. I hate that line more than anything. It’s crypto-racist binary bullshit, with only two possible pigeonholes for my existence: either I’m some bucktoothed fresh-off-the-boat coolie or I’m an Asian Uncle Tom, a banana — yellow on the outside, white on the inside. Even close friends of mine have pulled this crap on me. It’s a game I’m not allowed to win, and for that reason, I refuse to play.

Once we got that little issue straightened out, I left him with the URL for a recent article by Patrick French, in which he throws a little metaphorical cream pie at the Dalai Lama’s face. After all, it was my turn to annoy him.

(The article originally appeared in the New York Times, just in case you thought it was merely the obscure writings of a crank with a website and a grudge.)

I really should stop hanging out at Tequila Bookworm. The place is a moonbat magnet.