M. Night Shyamalan Dominates With Little to No Effort

One of the most wonderful thing about being a desi is that we pride ourselves on being lazy.

For example, if you invite a desi to your place for, let's say, a 6 PM dinner, and you expect them to come on time -- well then you'll see this kind of scene play out:

You (able-bodied, well-intentioned caucasian): Gee, where is Raja (your friend's name is actually Indira, but you can't be bothered to actually remember funny-sounding foreign names so you throw in the title of the tiger from Aladdin)?

(phone rings, you pick up)

You: Where are you? It's 8:30!

Indira: Yeah, exactly, man, it's 8:30. That means I still got an hour!

You: But I invited you at 6:00!

Indira: Well, I'm getting here by 9:30, so by desi time I'm still at least a half hour early.

You: Bu-

Indira: What more do you expect? Don't sass me, whitey.

You: Yes you're right, I apologize. ;_;

Something like that, anyway.

So M. Night Shyamalan, America's most famous Indian director, has come out with a new thriller, The Happening. His flick was skewered by the critics, scoring a 19% over at Rottentomatoes. The film was derided as having akward acting, a contrived plot, and a weak, anticlimatic ending.

The comments on the popular movie-hub IMDB.com were scathing. One user wrote, "The script was just bad. Some of the lines were pretty laughable...Its really dissapointing considering this is by the same guy that wrote the Sixth Sense."

As a proud angry desi myself, I have to reply to that by saying: exactly. The aforementioned user is raging because he or she expects more from the writer-director of The Sixth Sense. Therein lies the genius of the desi race. We are completely fine with making one great achievement -- for our moms to brag about at dinner parties -- and then just sitting on our ass and expecting the world to love us for it. Don't believe me that this is The Happening was so underachieving? Check out this interview with M. Night Shyamalan. In it, Shyamalan admits that he set out to make his new film a "b-movie." A b-movie is a low-budget, low-quality film, that usually is a result of bad directing (it's not intentional).

But Shyamalan is fine with putting so little effort into a movie intentionally. He doesn't have to put very much into it for it to make a hefty profit -- more than 30 million in its opening weekend, as a matter of fact.

So, Shyamalan, continue to be the lazy desi who continues to reap the profits that come from the name-value of making one really good film and then not even trying later on. It's exactly what you were born to do.



Lazy and proud, Indian-American director-writer M. Night Shyamalan

We Changed the Background to Orange

Because white anywhere is a threat to brown everywhere.

"WHATS GOOD, NYUKKAH?"

"Aye nigga, that new Chingy album is hella tight. Yeah nigga, Luda be all over that ish in fact my ni-"

And now, a group of Black men have just walked by. The articulate album critic has suddenly hushed his tone progressively until upon seeing the black men move out of earshot, he eventually begins his insightful commentary once again. "er uh yeah nigga that ish is so hot"

My friends, you have all just witnessed the antics of the typical digger. What is a digger you ask? Well, its basically the desi version of wigger, a clever construct by myself and Zaid. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy listening to rap quite a bit. In fact, I love the nineties west coast gangster rap and even wear my pants below my waist on occassion.



However, these are the Pakistanis and Indians who have grown up in pleasant suburban neighborhoods, drive decent or nice cars bought by their parents but decide that Rocawear, bumping 50 Cent and speaking in ebonics is oh so natural and cool. Remember, there's nothing tougher than a 5'7'', anorexic looking Indian 17 year old with cubic zirconium in his ears walking around with a scowl. That's right, these people actually make wiggers look better.

"But Maharaj, how can they make white people look better!? At least diggers are brown and some even have black skin!"



WRONG. And if you're desi, I am even more disgusted by you asking that. Do you know why? Because your parents came to America to make more money, and to give their children(your useless asses) the chance to grow up in a better environment than they did and/or have better opportunities for a happy and successful future. Instead, we have suburban desis completely turning their backs on their parents, acting ashamed of the fruits of their parents' labor, pretending to be ghetto fabulous by wearing baggy jeans. How ridiculous. Instead of children who are proud to be decently educated and raised, we have idiots who feel it necessary to say 'aye nigga' every third word in a sentence but are terrified of saying it around somebody who is actually Black. I dont think even Project Pat says nigga that much. White people get a less harsh treatment, because, face it. They often don't have the cultural background desis do, and have no clue what the hell they can do make themselves more interesting, besides buy another leash for their dog or support an arbitrary cause with a bracelet made in godless and evil China. I expect better out of my brothers and sisters!

Worse yet, are the desi girls who buy into this shit. Boys are known to take longer to grow up and brown ego makes change impossible. But desi women, I expect better from you(just kidding, you're probably stupid but pretend you're not for a minute)! Oh what, you think wearing puffy jackets, talking and acting like uneducated single Mexican mothers from Inglewood is the way to go? YoU a Str8 GAnxTa ByTcH? Have some self dignity, jesus christ. Nobody is saying to be a halal hijabi with a pussy tighter than a pair of sandals on a Chinese girl in the 18th century, but please realize stupidity for what it is. There is nothing cool about being broke. There is nothing cool about being uneducated. If that was the case, your parents would have been more than happy to drop you off in the slums of Mumbai so you could grow up to be cooler than Vanilla Ice.


On3 lUv MaH NiGGaz DoiN it ReaL BiG!~

Dating White People (And Why You Shouldn't)

Yes, those of us at the Angry Desi Blog (true, we are only two twenty-something angry desi American males, but our awesomeness is equivalent to about thirteen dozen white people, give or take a Scandinavian family) are aware that we've been on a hiatus of more than a year.

You see, this is normal for Desis. We don't go anywhere or do anything on time. Or at least White People's Time (decided by things like clocks, schedules, agendas, and alarms on your BlackBerry) -- we more or less do stuff when we feel like it (this will be all explained in a future post).

CURRY -- Creating Understable Reverse-Racism Year-round -- is certainly not defunct. We Desis of the world are still very much planning the destruction of every member of your Caucasian race.

Especially after dating one.

I know exactly the thoughts that are running through all of your heads right now.

Jesus Christ! They're sleeping with our women! Guess I better start usin' protection, and tell the Missus that if she wanted someone who was small down there [sic: author's note, the myth of asian smallness will be covered in future posts], she should'a gotten a Chink.

Well, rest-assured, my lighter-skinned friends, that arc of my life is over. It's true, any Desi can just about pick up any white chick he wants, because they're easy as hell to pick up. All you have to do is throw some money in their face, tell them you're studying for some kind of liberal arts, law, or business degree, and treat 'em to some kind of Asian Fusion place downtown a couple of times and they'll trip over themselves in a mad attempt to make love to your cultured, sophisticated self -- complete with lines like "Stop being so interesting! (in reference to a throwaway line to traveling to Pakistan once) or "I wish I wasn't white" (now who could blame you for that?).

And therein lies the rub. To be with a white girl, you have to continually prove to her that you're some kind of sensitive, worthy, appreciative male who reads Sartre and wants to "connect with her" on some kind of New Agey, pseudospiritual level. If you fail to do that, your gal will run off away from with you some kind of idea that she just can't have a deep and committed relationship with you, because she's just an explorer in the Big Game of Life and she feels suffocated by the fact that you don't live up to her obscene post-Enlightenment ideas about love and life.

Not that that's what happened to me. Of course not.

It's true, there are hot white women on the planet, who no self-respecting man -- whether it be a morally corrupt and fiscally incompetent Caucasian or superior-in-every-way Desi -- would be able to look at without involuntarily uttering the words, "I'd tap that, go watch Bend It Like Beckham, and then tap it again while chomping on some Chana-Puri." Like Scarlett Johanson. If that doesn't get you up, then you need to be castrated.


"I'm only this color on the outside."

Still, these exceptions (Meg Ryan, Keira Knightley if the damn girl learned to eat, and Rachel Weisz are included here) to the White-Girls-Are-Too-Sensitive-And-Don't-Put-Out Rule do not really justify risking the white girl pool. The chance that the Caucasian woman you pick up at a party is one of the four aforementioned women is very slim -- something in the range of one in oh-God-these-white-women-never-shut-up-just-make-out -- thus it is a rational and mathematically justified choice to avoid them altogether. See, logic solves everything.

Again, this has nothing to do with my recent disastrous relationship with a white girl that I am using to judge all white girls on the planet. That's impossible. It can't be that I'm just bitter and we don't talk anymore and JESUS CHRIST WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE AFRAID OF HURTING ME YOU'RE DOING THAT RIGHT NOW YOU B-

*ahem*

The moral of the story is, don't go white with your booty. It just isn't worth it. You want a woman who heeds your beck and call, and doesn't read Betty Friedan or support the nineteenth amendment and puts out as a matter of womanly responsibility.

You want a brownie.


"I don't read obscure philosophy books or take out stupid subprime mortgage loans. And I like to do it with samosas involved.

The best places to find one are any place where they sell things cheap, have food that's not bland (avoid anything European, which you should do as a general rule anyway), and have spontaneous dancing.

Good luck and good hunting, gentlemen.