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Showing posts from August, 2018

Emotional Responsibility and Victimhood Culture

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life . . . Therefore do not be anxious . . .Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself - Jesus (Matthew 6:25, 31, 34) No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. - Eleanor Roosevelt Tommy Jarrett, big rig driver, began his bid for the victimhood Olympics on June 8th, 2004. During a vicious morning downpour outside Columbia, Missouri, his truck hit Michael and Amanda Jones’ car and their 3-year old daughter Mikayla was killed. The Jones’ car had lost control in the rain and slid into the opposing lane of Tommy’s truck.  These lines from Invisibilia Season Two Episode One sum it up well:  ROSIN: Their daughter Makayla had died. And yet, they were the ones who got sued. A year after the accident, Tommy Jarrett sued the Joneses for emotional distress. I'm going to repeat that. Tommy Jarrett, the truck driver who walked away from the accident without a scratch,

Crazy Rich Asians Movie: Filial Piety wrapped in Social Hierarchy with pinches of Feminine Self-Empowerment

*Spoiler alert” This review is full of spoilers. Watch the movie first. Sometimes you watch a movie and it feels like coming home. No, not coming home to the palatial mansion Nick Young spent his childhood in but the familiar refuge of people who get you - who understand and accept your idiosyncrasies and love you regardless.  What makes Jon M. Chu’s Crazy Rich Asians movie so enjoyable is the subtle and over-the-top ways it captures the diversity and nuance of Chinese culture. Nothing speaks home more than food and music. Cuisine plays a pivotal role in the film, and though most of the characters are absurdly affluent, the night market food scene and dumpling-making scene resonated strongly with me. Those moments were relatable on many levels. Asians of all socioeconomic classes are familiar with night markets and sitting around a table making dumplings. Food is comfort and the ultimate nostalgia. I’m reminded of Pixar’s Ratatouille, when callous food critic Anton Ego bite