Fingermanson
No, this is not a review of Manson’s disappointing music video + song. It is a really funky rendering of the perverto with tons of makeup and an adolescent lovemate:
The highlight of my day.
Archived entries for
Back Me Up
A couple of nights ago I was up at 3 AM chatting with a good friend of mine and listening to Relax Take It Easy by Mika. I was casually situated in my bed with the laptop on my, you guessed it, lap and with the reading light dimmed out. I was comfortable and carefree.
Then all of a sudden my laptop decided to crash. So it crashed and I could no longer continue my chatting or my listening to music. I was sleepy so I thought, as sleepy people think, that things will be alright in the morning.
But they weren’t. My laptop really meant it, it crashed and I felt unloved like I had been weaned by force. I went to work only to leave four hours later to be with my sick mate, and I tried to nurse it back to health to no avail. Eventually, I gave in, ignored my pride in my outdated computer fixing skills, and took it to the repair shop.
The fixer guy at the repair shop told me he could not retrieve any information saved on my C drive, and I didn’t mind. With a personal history of enduring cyber stalkers and multitudes of viruses and trojans and p2p catastrophes, I had grown computer skin so thick not even Google can penetrate.
But here’s the cosmic iroy. I never, ever, save anything on C. I’ve seen too many PCs crash and burn to trust the accursed drive with my precious digital belongings. The only thing I saved on C was a file I had been working on for three months now. I had placed it on the desktop to motivate myself to work on it by way of constant visual exposure (Yes, I turn tricks on myself and they work). I remember the omnious moment when I put it there, I was too lazy to create it somewhere else and only place a shortcut on the desktop. How could I have known what will happen?
Now that you know the background story, know the purpose of this post. I want to express my anger at the people who constantly ask “Why didn’t you back it up?”
Imagine this: I am so sad and shocked I almost have tears in my eyes, and I come to you to tell you what happened to my three-months’ worth of work. I tell you I can’t believe this has happened, I tell you I am devastated by the loss of time and effort, I tell you I never even saved anything on C but saved this file there in a moment of innocent laziness, I tell you I have to start over from scratch and I am uncertain if I will meet the deadline…
And what do you say?
“Why didn’t you back it up?”
I respond, I don’t know, it’s the only thing I didn’t back up. And you say “That’s stupid.” I start fantasizing about hurting you, to be honest, and I get creative at it too.
On Consistency
When I read parts of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Self Reliance, I did not predict how very life-altering some of his philosophies would prove to be within the frame of my existence. This is the story of consistency and public approval.
The book I had was a dreary, cheaply photocopied anthology that had the bleakest black to its letters, and some shadow as well. The words were wobbly and seemed uneven, although that was only an illusion and nothing more. The pages had not been photocopied by a man kind to his machine, and he was evidently in a hurry, too. The whites did not match the blacks, and the lines were not straight. It was as if that book had been crafted by the clumsiest devil in hell.
I mistreated the book, I must confess. In my frequent manifestations of exaggerated self-importance, and possibly narcissism, I scribbled Tololy on almost every page, in every corner, and on the cover in large, purple letters. When class was in session against my will, and that happened often, I sat in my chair and drew little intertwined curves and swirls and circles, and then again scribbled my name under the incoherent art.
Sometimes during class, I would be so absorbed in reading some unvisited parts of the book that I would almost hear the words talking to me. Sometimes I would imagine the writers talking to me or narrating their stories exclusively to me, and sometimes I would see the events played out in front of my mind’s eye. It was a good thing I was never a fecund participant in most class discussions (although I was famous for some strange opinions expressed rather aggressively when the situation demanded) and so I was never interrupted while my imagination was at play.
I had that special connection with Emerson’s attitudes. I was both stimulated and entertained by his ideas and stands on things, and particularly by his take on consistency. At the time, I was going through a formulative stage of character-building and yet I was held back by the want to be consistent and by the socially-influenced desire to be simpatico with everyone. So Emerson’s rhetoric was my “Why didn’t I think of that?” moment of enlightenment.
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesman and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Emerson’s argument on consistency is that it really isn’t necessary as it is just another unseen restraint to creativity and authenticity. If you want to be consistent, you will not change your opinions or grow up intellectually. If you want to be consistent for fear of being judged by people as having no true opinion, then you are doomed to live with your treasured “consistency” and social approval until your character completely erodes into a mold of everyone else, and you end up being another average nobody.
I have changed my mind frequently over the years on a number of major issues. These ranged from god to seafood, from the conflict in the region to creative writing, and from porn to shoes. It’s fascinating but I am not the same person today as I was yesterday, let alone the person I was a year ago.
Emerson also believed in experimentalism. He said “All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better.” Now if you have been following this blog for a while you will know that anyone swearing by experimentalism is my idol. I deeply believe in, and outwardly practice the cult of experimentalism (except in food, I’m neophobic), and there is not another way I would choose to live.
So for at least two excellent points Emerson made, on consistency and experimentalism, he has my undying admiration. Of course, until I change my mind.
I Get Hate Mail in Lebanese: لبنانية مش عاجبها الوضع
Walaw.
First things first. This post is about a message I just got in my inbox from someone named Maysa Elayoubi. Note that I do not know this person in any way and I have never had any correspondence with her. This is the literal content of the message:
“a*** fike w bl ordon taba3ek ,ele sene bl malakiye w kel kon akhra 3alam ,w 3nde chawfet balade lebnen bteswa kl l ordon w maleka.”
Rough translation: Screw you and screw Jordan. I have been in this country for a year and you are the crappiest people ever. I wouldn’t trade visiting Lebanon for all what your country and your king have to offer.
My first reaction was: walaw?! It has been some time since I last received hate mail and I must say this message was a refreshing comeback. It is entertaining to observe how some people think they can hide behind their monitors and slander others. Maysa here is obviously naive like that.
إنو ولو؟ أنا شو دخلني إزا الأردن مو عاجبتك يا روØي؟ لأ Ùˆ مين ماسكك ما تروØÙŠ على لبنان أو أي مكان تاني؟ Ùˆ بكل الأØوال, شو هالأدب Ùˆ الأخلاق يا شقيقة؟
Hate mail makes me wonder, do the people who send it have healthy personalities? I think not. Because if they had balanced characters they would be more likely to take actual action, by getting organized and rallying for whatever case they are making, in productive ways. If anything, sending hate mail usually backfires and produces the opposite results by making its targets feel important and right. Needless to say, I have no fucking clue what case Maysa is trying to make in her message.
And I also suddenly feel important and right.
Random hate mail just like the message I am discussing here is the stupidest thing anyone can send to another person. I have several reasons for this opinion, and I will use Maysa Elayoubi’s logic as an example:
1- Maysa thinks she is complimenting Lebanon by dissing Jordan. In reality, she is a disgrace to her country.
2- Maysa thinks Lebanon and Jordan are at war with each other. In reality, she flunked her politics class.
3- Maysa thinks saying “screw you” would offend me. In reality, she has no idea how funny that sounds in Lebanese.
4- Maysa thinks she’s a bad ass patriotic girl. In reality, she is just a girl and therefore she does not have the genital equipment she used in her little meaningless profanity. The irony is killing me.
5- Maysa thinks it’s my fault she does not like Jordan and its people. In reality, it isn’t my fault.
6- Maysa thinks Jordanian borders are closed. In reality, she can move out any time she wants.
7- Maysa thinks I will not publish her email address. In reality, she is very mistaken.
So you see, for all of the above reasons I think Maysa is not particularly sharp. And I don’t think that now she feels very smart about the message she sent to me. Of course, Maysa Elayoubi could be just a handle, but handle or not it inspired this post and I am sure it will inspire many of you to have a private chat with her or to drop her a little email to tell her that we don’t think Lebanese people are proud of her behavior.
So without further ado, and for the sake of enlightening a sister about manners, I give you Maysa Elayoubi: mayssa_elayoubi@hotmail.com
Oh and, Maysa, don’t thank me for this lesson of cyber discipline. Walaw ya shaqeeqa?
I Get Hate Mail in Lebanese: لبنانية مش عاجبها الوضع
Walaw.
First things first. This post is about a message I just got in my inbox from someone named Maysa Elayoubi. Note that I do not know this person in any way and I have never had any correspondence with her. This is the literal content of the message:
“a*** fike w bl ordon taba3ek ,ele sene bl malakiye w kel kon akhra 3alam ,w 3nde chawfet balade lebnen bteswa kl l ordon w maleka.”
Rough translation: Screw you and screw Jordan. I have been in this country for a year and you are the crappiest people ever. I wouldn’t trade visiting Lebanon for all what your country and your king have to offer.
My first reaction was: walaw?! It has been some time since I last received hate mail and I must say this message was a refreshing comeback. It is entertaining to observe how some people think they can hide behind their monitors and slander others. Maysa here is obviously naive like that.
إنو ولو؟ أنا شو دخلني إزا الأردن مو عاجبتك يا روحي؟ لأ و مين ماسكك ما تروحي على لبنان أو أي مكان تاني؟ و بكل الأحوال, شو هالأدب و الأخلاق يا شقيقة؟
Hate mail makes me wonder, do the people who send it have healthy personalities? I think not. Because if they had balanced characters they would be more likely to take actual action, by getting organized and rallying for whatever case they are making, in productive ways. If anything, sending hate mail usually backfires and produces the opposite results by making its targets feel important and right. Needless to say, I have no fucking clue what case Maysa is trying to make in her message.
And I also suddenly feel important and right.
Random hate mail just like the message I am discussing here is the stupidest thing anyone can send to another person. I have several reasons for this opinion, and I will use Maysa Elayoubi’s logic as an example:
1- Maysa thinks she is complimenting Lebanon by dissing Jordan. In reality, she is a disgrace to her country.
2- Maysa thinks Lebanon and Jordan are at war with each other. In reality, she flunked her politics class.
3- Maysa thinks saying “screw you” would offend me. In reality, she has no idea how funny that sounds in Lebanese.
4- Maysa thinks she’s a bad ass patriotic girl. In reality, she is just a girl and therefore she does not have the genital equipment she used in her little meaningless profanity. The irony is killing me.
5- Maysa thinks it’s my fault she does not like Jordan and its people. In reality, it isn’t my fault.
6- Maysa thinks Jordanian borders are closed. In reality, she can move out any time she wants.
7- Maysa thinks I will not publish her email address. In reality, she is very mistaken.
So you see, for all of the above reasons I think Maysa is not particularly sharp. And I don’t think that now she feels very smart about the message she sent to me. Of course, Maysa Elayoubi could be just a handle, but handle or not it inspired this post and I am sure it will inspire many of you to have a private chat with her or to drop her a little email to tell her that we don’t think Lebanese people are proud of her behavior.
So without further ado, and for the sake of enlightening a sister about manners, I give you Maysa Elayoubi: mayssa_elayoubi@hotmail.com
Oh and, Maysa, don’t thank me for this lesson of cyber discipline. Walaw ya shaqeeqa?
August's Pulp Corrects Mistake
Someone did send me the contact information of Pulp magazine when I asked for it in July, after the magazine gave an inaccurate (and supposedly humorous) description of my blog in that month’s issue. Since I obviously am too serious for broken jokes in print, I called the magazine and I was pleasantly surprised by the editor’s reaction.
The man was very friendly and he listened to my complaint (read:bitching), apologized several times for having offended me unintentionally, and explained the joke. I demanded a correction and I was promised one. Then I ended the call with what can only be described as a mafia-inspired touch by saying “I will follow up on this. You won’t miss me.” I have no clue why I said that, I guess I wanted to sound dangerous and mysterious.
Hilarious, I know.
But I never got around to calling again because I was entirely busy packing, travelling, and unpacking. Rinse and repeat. And because I never called again, I figured the editor will not really publish anything. So much for my Sicilian threats…
Two days ago I bought the August issue of Pulp to check. Lo and behold! Page 15, under “Blogs Flog Pulp”:
“We’ve learned in the past month that bloggers take their blogs VERY seriously. Even when we tried to compliment one of Jordan’s bloggers by putting her on our “most popular” list, we were scolded for the description we used to describe the blog. It was supposed to be humorous, but that apparently did not come across. Our apologies. Tololy’s Box is not, in fact, “mostly about Tabuleh.” It’s a great blog about culture, entertainment, day-to-day happenings, fashion, quirky news pieces, and much much more. It’s quite good, and that’s why it was on our list. The creator is currently in New York, so she’s bringing us the best of that part of the world. She did admit, however, that “Tabbuleh is a form of salad that I worship.” So we weren’t so off”
I love the title of the correction. My mafiosa phone-persona must have been intense.
You can sense from the choice of words that Pulp people weren’t very excited that I “didn’t get the joke.” Still, they respected my right not to like what they published, and they corrected their mistake. For that, they have also gained my respect. I might even do what a friend suggested: send them a bowl of quality Tabbouleh.
