I Heart Thao (No ethnic sympathy)

Ethnic sympathy – you know you’ve fallen victim to it on more occasions than not.

The high school valedictorian may have been a pompous wad of discharge – but she was Ethiopian, and you had to give it up.

You weren’t planning on seeing Harold and Kumar, but it’s motherjunking John Cho and he’s the Seoul (cheap, I know, suck my back) of Korean Ams in every area code.

One fateful afternoon, you took them to the back room of their family’s restaurant and made them stink, for the motherland, for La Raza.

I’m sure Bilo and I would never be friends, if it weren’t for our mutual appreciation of the female figure (hello ladies).

Every year, indie artists step out of their local co-op boutiques, their respective divorced parent’s house, to vie (these days) for the proverbial spotlight: the ears, eyes and pockets of Pitchfork Media editors and hipsters.

I am, unabashedly, a mutt-of-a-hipster, Spank Rock you very much.

In true mutt-of-a-hipster form, I have been subscribing to various podcasts – This American Life, Fresh Air with Terry Gross, Grammar Girl (my favorites) – to keep in touch with the land of the free. By happenstance, on a particular Studio 360 podcast, I am ensnared into attention with the announcement of one Thao Nguyen. In ethnic sympathy, anytime I hear a remotely Vietnamese name, I get sucked in like a woman at H&M. She has her rather typical Vietnamese American story (working with her divorced mom in her laundromat), but that can’t truly get my neck nodding, but of course. It always comes down to the music.

I braille it (suck my back).

I imagine when Thao and the Get Down Stay Down finalized the title, We Brave Bee Stings and All, they meant to convey the sprawl of a day spent in the sun. More appropriately, the CD is the quintessential soundtrack for a BBQ in a forest. Beat (Health, Life and Fire) blares out the alarm clock, takes you by the hand and tosses you into the shower. Bag of Hammers all takes place in your friend’s hatchback, everything from the cooler being hauled in – to the windows rolled down – your hand cupping the wind force. The food coma, the emptied bottles of Pyramid Ale (Apricot!), and there it goes – your eyes catching the glint of your longtime friend’s undervalued smile – there it goes – your mouth shooting off drunk Violet confessions, and there they go – your Feet Asleep, heads on chests, arms lapped around hips, Yes, So On and On…stars, joints and water bottles, slagging back into the hatchback, Yes, So On and On…home, We Go, nhe!

You can preview Geography on my muxtape (2nd track from the top) or preview the whole album on Amazon or iTunes. I recommended buying it off of Amazon because it’s a buck cheaper, and you get higher quality MP3s.

China Earthquake in Vietnam

(credit: wikipedia)

One concrete reason I have moved away from the Bay (Area) is to dodge the inevitable Big One. 30 years, no biggie.

Which brings me to ask, how prone is/has Vietnam been to earthquakes? Can Vietnam experience a Chinese/Indian/Indonesian/Japanese/Phillipines earthquake?

Upon study of the colorful tectonic plate global map (above), Vietnam is rather insulated geographically within the boundaries of the Eurasian plate.

Focusing more on Vietnam, a professor has already beaten me to the punch – by three or so years (always happens with my ideas) – with the invention of his Earthquake Map. The verdict is, surprisingly, Hanoi is prone to the shifting of the tectonic plates.

In light of the Southwestern China earthquake, the Burma cyclone, the 2004 tsunami, begs the question: Is it a coincedence there have been many natural disasters in the Asian region as of late? More importantly, why isn’t Hubbard answering his phone calls?

Vietlicious Joke #1: Cyclo Driver

(credit: creative baby shower ideas)

What do you tell a cyclo driver that’s about to rip you off?

Xe đạp

- Hai Handy

Think of the children!

Green is the new red – or at least something you can strike up a convo with the random chicas in your given proximity – you can even use it as a neg (“Wow, you don’t care about the trees? Then, how will I know your love for me?”)

Let’s be real: the environment has been an issue for the past couple of decades so it’s nothing new.

So let me argue my argument to save the environment: if I don’t work to save the environment now, there is a higher chance my beautiful locks will fall out in disastrous disgrace – and my boys will stop swimming.

May 16th: Do your part, or part with your do.

Mr. On ‘08

My latest hobby has been following the upcoming 2008 presidential election.

I ain’t gonna front, I got a mancrush on Obama – not just because of this girl, but of course.

Even though he might be able to convince to buy an iPhone, he will never be able to convince me to vote for the Bosnian mercenary – unless, he can somehow get me, ahem, seven minutes in heaven.

Hilarity aside (pun intended, but of course), allow me to introduce you to Mr. On.

In all the tales of wartime courage peppering John McCain’s presidential campaign trail, perhaps the most outstanding example of selfless heroism involves not the candidate but a humble Vietnamese peasant.

On October 26, 1967, Mai Van On ran from the safety of a bomb shelter at the height of an air raid and swam out into the lake where Lieutenant Commander McCain was drowning, tangled in his parachute cord after ejecting when his Skyhawk bomber was hit by a missile.

In an extraordinary act of compassion at a time when Vietnamese citizens were being killed by US aerial bombardments, he pulled a barely conscious McCain to the lake surface and, with the help of a neighbour, dragged him towards the shore.

Dopeness indeed. But then:

From that brief encounter to his death at the age of 88 two years ago, Mr On never heard from the senator again, and three years after their meeting, McCain published an autobiography that makes no mention of his apparent debt to Mr On.

Not that I need to give you reasons not to vote for McCain, but how’s the wind in your stomach? Read the article for the account of their encounter.

Si Se Puede

Spank Pardon me.