Happy Nowruz!

For Nowruz I wanted to post a cool little tour of Tehrangeles and President Obama's message to the Iranian nation. Even Colbert got into the spirit this year, after he found out an Iranian men's store was using his image! All this, plus Rachel Maddow partying like it's 1388 and Shimon Peres too!

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

!نوروز مبارک

Blackwell needs to re-read his Bible!

This will be short. Today I was relishing the much lived up to hype of the Cramer v. Stewart showdown, or more accurately, Jon Stewart takes on the corporate media at large (and its Twitter fetish). But something else caught my radar.

In the imbroglio that is the Steele chairmanship of the RNC, and his comments implying support for a woman's right to choose, former rival and fellow black Republican Ken Blackwell said thus to Townhall:

"Chairman Steele, as the leader of America's Pro-Life conservative party, needs to re-read the Bible, the U.S. Constitution, and the 2008 GOP Platform. He then needs to get to work -- or get out of the way."

Working in reverse, I shall go through this statement briefly. The Constitutionality of reproductive rights is something I don't intend to broach presently. And he is correct, the Pro-Life position is naturally in the 2008 Republican Platform. But I myself need to re-read the Bible Mr. Blackwell, because as I recall, the issue of abortion comes up precisely -- wait for it -- zero times!

The history of the varying attitudes of Christianity towards abortion according to different times and places is another intriguing, and nuanced wrinkle to research as well...

Rush at CPAC

This will be more like a Twitter than a blog. I just watched Rush Limbaugh give his CPAC speech. One word: hilarious -- and no, I wasn't high on Oxy.

Almighty God, I beseech Thee, please make Republicans take Limbaugh's advice on everything!

...The GOP is already fast on its way to joining the Whigs!

I'm Erupting at Bobby Jindal

So Obama has been in a whirlwind his first month as President, and he capped it off with his first address to a joint session of Congress (the so-called "non-State of the Union-State of the Union"). The next night Sean Hannity scoffed at a comment made by congressperson Barney Frank, who had said that Republicans were scared to rise and clap for Obama for fear of reprisal by both Hannity and Limbaugh. One, Sean needs to get a sense of humor. Two, as if he (or certainly Rush) wouldn't have hounded them down for their unholy transgression. Three, why is it again they care so much what Barney Frank says? Oh, right... he's a homo-sex-ual.

Granted there have been other little nuggets of information from the past coming out in the periphery, like Bristol Palin contradicting her mother's position by saying teaching abstinence in school is "not realistic at all", but my attention has most recently been on Palin's hopeful rival in 2012, Bobby Jindal.

It appears that Bobby Jindal, born to Indian immigrants, has proved that there's no zealot like a convert. True he converted from Hinduism to Catholicism, but what I mean is that he's trying a little too hard to be Bush and Palin, with the delivery of Kenneth the Page. His Republican Response was non sequitur, empty, stale and ignorant -- you know, the usual fare for GOP presidential hopefuls -- who veer towards the far-right in preparation for their prospective runs. But it was also offensive in its ignorance.

At one point, Gov. Jindal tried shaming the Democratic led Congress with that favorite parlor trick of Republicans: seemingly ridiculous earmarks. Remember the time Palin laughed at fruit fly research - which actually found advances in understanding autism and other developmental disorders? Jindal did better. He poked fun at Volcano monitoring. Hey, "Johnny Lever of Louisiana" -- I'm not laughing. While you grew up in the Gulf Coast, I grew up in the Ring of Fire; as do Alaskans, Oregonians, Californians, and last but not least, Hawai'ians. In fact, my hometown is host to the Cascades Volcano Observatory. It monitors this little thing called Mt. St. Helens. Ever heard of it? Obviously not. Since you mock our particular forms of tectonic disasters and want to strip the United States Geological Survey, I suggest we do the same to the National Hurricane Center. Have fun preparing for the next Katrina. I'll send you some Mardi Gras beads.

Screw you. Just because you're Indian doesn't mean I have to like you. In any case, you're an ABCD ulloo. You can at least take solace in Disneyworld (or wherever you went to hide after that embarrassment) that Rush still loves you. That said, your performance, as I saw it, was the death knell of your implicit presidential aspirations. But I do hope Rush stands by you. Palin/Jindal 2012! --I'm more than okay with President Obama running against that disasterdly duo!

*I almost forgot: Congrats to my former Governor, Gary Locke. Hopefully he bring some of Washington to the District! (It got so confusing during the press conference that the beltway media seemed not to know what to do. Serves them right for dropping "D.C." all those years ago to theirs and adding "state" to ours!)

Super Bowl XLIII... and Porn?

Yes, as per this story at the venerable BBC and this one at CNN to this one from The Arizona Daily Star, it would appear that the Old Pueblo has made lascivious history.

The game was between the evil Pittsburgh Steelers and the Cinderella Arizona Cardinals. Even though I had no illusions the Cardinals would win, I wanted nothing more for two reasons. Firstly, as a native Seahawks fan, I can neither forget nor forgive the refs for giving that game three years ago to the 'Stealers', à la Bush v. Gore. Secondly, I get sick of all the East Coast coverage and commentariot. It was nice to see Leno last night and hear the boos at the mere mention of the Steelers. If the East is going to get all parochial, than the West needs to start learning how to stick together too!

So, imagine my chagrin, when as Larry Fitzgerald is prancing into the endzone during what appeared at the time to be the game-winning touchdown with roughly three minutes left - that I witness a guy's pants being unzipped and his "member" liberated from said jeans. Not only that, but he shimmied back-and-forth as if in his own celebration dance. It took me a few moments (as it did with Darren Aronofsky's middle-fingered salute during the Golden Globes) to register the surreal experience as the kind of incident a majority of the public finds horribly offensive. For those outside the Tucson area, I did spy a warning much earlier when end credits from a previous presentation appeared with the Club Jenna chyron for less than a second. There were then sporadic breaks in the feed after that, as if someone were trying to do this all game long.

I wasn't irate for having my delicate sensibilities shocked (honestly, it was just slightly less softcore than Janet Jackson's infamously lame wardrobe malfunction), but rather, I was incredibly annoyed by the timing. I missed the glorious replay because of some pranksters. If anything, I wouldn't have minded this during the Pittsburgh hundred yard interception return ten seconds before half, nor the devastatingly miraculous Santonio Holmes catch with less than a minute to a Cardinal's victory. --It's moments like those I don't mind seeing another dude's bare bum.

Did I forget to mention I hate the Steelers? Sorry President Obama, but here's where I agree with Sen. McCain and not with you. Plus, remember that traitor to America, Rush Limbaugh, whose seditious words were that he wanted you to fail at -- *gasp* -- a time of war!? Well, he's a member of the Steeler Nation. Enough said.

Obama Inauguration

Finally!

I was glued to the set all day, but only as the evening progressed did it start to really sink in that Obama was really president. It might've been a shock to my stuffy neighborhood that I put up flags galore. As an American, you can never really not be proud to be one. However; the last eight years certainly made it more difficult! It is funny that the flag does seem to wave just a little bit brighter now. As if it has been dusted and renewed of the grime that had built up and tarnished it into some empty bludgeoning weapon; not the freedom and ideals it is supposed to represent.

Congratulations Mr. President. God, it feels good to say that. Like the passage Obama cited in his inaugural speech from 1 Corinthians 13:11, we have put away a childish man. The "na-na-na-na na-na-na-na hey hey hey, goodbuy" chants may have themselves been puerile, but were very deserved and apropos to a president who divided a country with equally crass methods.

I especially appreciated Obama's message to the world, and Muslim world in particular:

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West: Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

Also, Obama's vision of america couldn't be more different from Palin's:

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus -- and nonbelievers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth

Amen.

I liked it when Obama stepped out of his limo to walk a few blocks (much to the Secret Service's chagrin), but more powerful was earlier, passing the Canadian Embassy, when the Royal Mounted Police saluted in formation! Now, I'm told they do this regardless of who the new president is; but I'd like to believe they were more earnest in their salute this time around!

All in all, I only have one complaint, and it has nothing to do with your ball dancing skills or Michelle's dress. No. --Why did you select the Evergreen High School band to march in your inaugural parade? Don't you know that they were my High School's rivals? Still... I suppose I was honored that of the handful of Western entries (Montana delegation, Nez Perce Tribe, University of Utah, a high school band from Glendale, and a high school mariachi band from New Mexico), you chose Vancouver, Washington to represent the Pacific Northwest!

I'm hoping the honeymoon lasts for quite a while longer, before I start criticizing you for more substantive disagreements in policy and governing. Best wishes!

A Tucsonan in Tehrangeles

So, alas, it was another dreadful birthday last week. But it wasn't all bad -- I was whisked away to Los Angeles.

Now, I was born, raised, and lived all but the past few years in the Pacific Northwest. Being located in Tucson now, it struck me that one, I've never actually been to LA, and two, that it's only a day's drive. Now, I'd been past LA many times. Whether it be zooming past, en route to Disneyland, up through Burbank to connect with northbound I-5 back to Oregon and Washington, or via LAX. Yet, I'd never actually seen what LA held hidden beneath its (cough) "grey veil". California's main attraction used to be the sunshine. I now have no shortage of that commodity anymore, to make one of the grossest of understatements! Give me a palm tree? I'll match that and raise you a saguaro.

Arriving at the hotel in Arcadia on Route 66, this was to be the first of California's self-referential nature that would impress itself upon me. Even if you think yourself to be above the influence of Hollywood, every American is flooded with the geography of the Los Angeles metropolitan area. As the place names were heretofore but foggy pinpoints on a map in my imagination, I must begrudgingly admit that it was fun to see all the famous landmarks unfold before my eyes.

My first night was spent at a Greek restaurant in Old Pasadena. If you're ever in the area, check out the restaurant Santorini. I was unwittingly wearing my Dead Can Dance shirt with faux Greek on it when what I assumed to be the owner stopped me and tried to read the Greek gibberish. I tried with cordial insistence to quickly explain it was fake. How do you say 'oy!' in Greek?


The next day, my birthday, I was treated with a short excursion to Little India in Artesia. Not as impressive as the one I've been to in Vancouver, BC, but more variety of desis and a number of goras too. I went straightaway to a Bollywood store, where a hip couple of fellow Anglos had beat me in at the street's universal opening time of 11:00. The sign in the store said "FIXED PRICE", which I promptly was able to translate in my head to एक दाम है. As I mulled over this tidbit of information in my head, the young woman proceeded to inquire the shopkeeper for a DVD (I wish I could remember the title, they looked my age and like they had similar predilections). The dukaanwala immediately connected them with her hook-up by phone (much as I had had personal experience with at my local Sikh business owner back in Washington), before digging out a copy from somewhere on some disheveled shelf. At this discovery the clerk triumphantly gave the price at $14 dollars, to which the girl brusquely turned to walk away, asserting she didn't really want it (even though it was the sole purpose of their visit). "$11, $11!," the Indian lady behind the counter sharply let out, to which the girl nonchalantly assented. Fixed price indeed. Truly, "Little India" was not just a cute marketing moniker. And how did a white kid ever learn to haggle like that?!

Unfortunately, in all of Little India, there was only one bookshop. In Indian fashion, the books seemed to have plopped on the shelves by themselves. But there was a lot of good stuff in such a small store. Religion, poetry, Hindi, and other Indian language books were represented. As well as, children's books of Indian heroes which I saw a desi family's child point to, listing the one's he's read. Is it strange that I, an American of Scottish, German and English ancestry, can swell with such pride to see a culture I respect and adore being passed to third generation Indians? In the end, my birthday money being limited, I had to settle on two well-selected books. With much painful deliberation I finally settled on a bilingual selection of Kabir's doha's published in India, and another bilingual selection of Ghalib's ghazals printed in Pakistan.

Finished off the Little India excursion with an authentic buffet recommended to us by the nice family who ran a shop selling Shalwar Kameez and Kurta's. Had been disappointed to have forgotten to check out the only Bollywood dance studio in the country (really?!!) and going to the Indian cineplex, but was somewhat relieved upon later reading the lacklustre reviews for the movies playing. Instead, capped off the day in Little Tokyo, which was a huge disappointment. Besides a basic wares shop (hashi, lacquer bowls and such), a grocery store, karaoke/saké bar, kendo jodo and, of course, an anime and manga den, the miniature mall was a little dead and more commerce than culture.

The next day I did the nerd-tourist thing and visited La Brea Tar Pits, then proceeded to places like the Sunset Strip, Mulholland Drive, Bel Air, and Beverly Hills, including Rodeo Drive... I feel a Rage Against the Machine song coming on:

Yeah I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one

There's no other adjective for that kind of wealth than obscene. And absolutely so. As part of the Christmas street décor, hung from the street lamps were, I kid you not, crystal chandeliers. Its profligacy made Scottsdale look like rural Alabama in comparison. Drive up the Hollywood Hills and loop through Bel Air if you ever get a chance (avoiding the tacky celebrity tours), then try to convince me again why your ideology against graduated taxes is so destructive to the economic opportunity of our country. Drive down Wilshire through the Koreatown area first for proper perspective. Though, for even more perspective, drown down towards USC.

Of the other ethnic enclaves I drove through or past included: Fairfax District (Jewish), Little Ethiopia, Little Armenia, Thai Town and Little Salvador. But I finished the day in Tehrangeles, south of the UCLA campus in Beverly Hills and just south of Bel Air. This is the largest community of Iranians living outside of Iran -- and it was evident. Though most don't live in the area (despite the infamous "Persian Palace" controversies), there were nearly three full blocks of heavily concentrated Persian stores and restaurants. And unlike Little India, the Persians seemed to have as many bookstores as restaurants, immigration services and music stores.

In Tehrangeles, I dined first with my family at رستوران شهرزاد (Shaherzad Restaurant). Apart from another white couple, we were the only ones in the place. The restaurant was filled with the smooth cadence of Farsi, except for the Arabic spoken behind us, which cut through the warm tones of Persia like a bagpipe in a brass band. I couldn't help but notice all the drop-dead gorgeous Persian women. It's long been a politically incorrect musing of mine that, having seen women who look like they sprang forth from a miniature painting of a sāqī, it's no wonder conservative fathers and mullahs in Iran want their women and daughters to cover up!


After dinner, I went to the place I'd wanted to visit most, Ketab Bookstore (the English name's a bit redundant if you know rudimentary Arabic, Farsi, Turkish, Urdu or Hindi vocabulary). I felt a bit awkward, not because I was in the lion's den of "terrorists"; but, because I got the sense that they were more uncertain of me than I was of them -- as if maybe I had wandered in there by mistake and would soon figure out they were evil Iranians! Maybe I'm just imagining this sense though. In any case, the place was wonderful.

About 90% of the store was Farsi material with all sections headed in Farsi (much as, outside, most shop signs were), leaving only three shelves of English language material. But to say that this situation made my choices any easier would be flat false. Incredibly strong selection. Current Events, Politics, History, Culture, Religion, Poetry; it was great! I spent a good hour or more just leafing through beautiful copies of the Shahnameh, Khayyam, Sa'di, Taher, Farrokhzad, Hafez, Rumi, etc. Try finding those at the Barnes & Nobles down the street! Ha! Oh, sure, you might find a copy of Coleman Barks' renditions of Rumi, but not the beautiful, scholarly, bilingual translations by Persians and Orientalists that you could find at Ketab Bookstore.

Immersed as I was, I rarely looked up, but when I did I would take in the store, filled with the old Persian flags, elegant wares, music, art, posters, and other items Iranian. I was too shy to ask if any of the small flags were for sale, but took interest in a bin of Iranian soccer style scarves and other patriotic fare, all crested by a bundle of largish American flags! I can never tell if this habit is just from sincere patriotism, or sincere patriotism and the fear of post 9/11 politics. I always suspect the latter, though I'm not saying Iranian-Americans wouldn't still display the American flag if the atmosphere of American ignorance were any different.

In the end I couldn't resist a book about Zarathushtra printed in Iran, given my zealous thirst for Zoroastrianism trumped the excruciating task of choosing one poet over another. At the cash register, what I presumed to be the owner, a graying, kindly man rang me up and said a hesitant "thank you" to which I, reflexively, barely got out the second word of kheyli mamnun (خيلى ممنون, 'many thanks'), anxiously summoning the handful of Farsi phrases commited to memory.

Far from just the liberal Hollywood élites, it is LA, not Sarah Palin's anachronistic, nativist vision, which I see as reflecting the true complexion of America. Self-segregated as they may be, the big cities and regional pockets across this country represent the true diversity that America was built on. Though people of Appalachia often self-identify as "Americans" for the census, there is no American ethnicity. Just an ideal. The ideals which provided the opportunity for a son of a Kenyan immigrant to become president.


LA may be no Mecca; but after having a Hindu bringing out kurtas for me to try on whilst performing puja at his shrine, seeing magnificent Buddhist and Jewish temples, eating a halaal meal, and drooling over a silver faravahar pendant, it was a cultural hajj of sorts.

E pluribus unum!