A few days ago, I wrote about some of the good things that the US owes to South Asia and the diaspora. The list was incomplete. Two additions, both of which I owe to the splendid Anirvan Chatterjee, are ethical online book-buying and The Chippendales. To quote Anirvan’s fine resource on this:
Continue reading “Oiled ripped male bodies? Indian!”
Over at Mischievous Constructions, I read of a hunt for the best headline for a review of Troy which, incidentally, I didn’t like less than some people didn’t like it.
Continue reading “Best Headline Ever”
It’s a grey day for the food system, and I’ve got the blues. The World Health Organization has oozed its way around the carbohydrate industry with a fairly fluffy set of admonitions to the food industry not to sell candy to kids because it makes them fat. Naughty food industry, bad food industry.
Continue reading “Cosmic relief”
At the same Gracenet dinner that I met Paul, I learned a thing or two from the visiting speaker, AnnaLee Saxenian. The brain-drain of high-skill technology graduates from China and India to Silicon Valley is only half the story. The brains also go back home, taking their newfound ideas with them. Saxenian writes of “brain circulation”, the trans-Pacific process of cross-fertilization, through which Silicon Valley gets socially networked to urban centres throughout Asia.
Continue reading “Brain Circulation”
Three cheers for Massachusetts.
I’ve just met a lovely man who works for the US Geological Survey. Given his profession, it’s unfortunate that the best way I can think of describing him is “down to earth”. Still, he had some interesting news for those of us living, as I do, in the Bay Area. We’re all going to die.
Continue reading “We’re all going to die”
Talking of liquor stores, the Reddy family of Berkeley, a cabal of exploiters of various stripes, have been denied a liquor license in their shop because of “moral turpitude“. Splendid.
Continue reading “Liquor”
The past couple of days have been fairly musical. I’ve long noticed that the one place that I can reliably hear morose music is my local Albertson’s. The musical loop goes something like this: Annie Lennox’s Why slows things down, and is followed by Nora Jones’ Don’t Know Why, which cools things down a bit more, and then hands over to 10cc’s I’m Not in Love, which brings us inevitably to Mike and the Mechanic’s The Living Years and then back to Annie Lennox. This onslaught of low-grade Weltschmerz makes grocery shopping miserable. Of course, as with every facet of the corporate retail experience, one person’s misery is another’s pile of cash. The music is designed to create a solitary and self-indulgent sensory bubble. It’s a bubble in which you’re encouraged to wallow. Inside the bubble, it smells of donuts, and it has Annie Lennox reminding you of that crappy breakup/tragic moment/melodramatic appeal to the heavens that you thought you’d long forgotten. The solution to all this is at hand, of course – make your choice of anything from the chilled plenitude of the supermarket shelves.
Continue reading “Red Guard on the Microphone”