tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-336527952024-03-23T11:12:47.679-07:00Déyès ModèsDais what I think. You doh like it? Better fete.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-9501848509641493472012-01-06T09:48:00.000-08:002012-01-06T09:50:04.683-08:00NEW BLOGHello all. I've moved...well, started a new blog. You can find me at <a href="http://suszanna.com/blog/">http://suszanna.com/blog/</a>. Hope you come join m, if any of you have been skulking around here in the hope that I might return.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-59534632188707152292008-08-14T10:35:00.000-07:002008-08-14T10:36:16.969-07:00And yet more jackasses...<a href="http://guywhite.wordpress.com/2008/08/12/slavery-was-good-for-the-black-man/">http://guywhite.wordpress.com/2008/08/12/slavery-was-good-for-the-black-man/</a>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-5518464885367128422008-08-14T09:45:00.000-07:002008-08-14T09:50:55.897-07:00JACKASSOccasionally you come across a jackass whose bray is so much more offensive than the normal cacophony that you have to acknowledge it. This, my dear friends, is one such jackass. This article appeared in the Jamaican Observer recently and, well, read for yourself. My response follows.<br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/columns/html/20080808T220000-0500_138829_OBS_SLAVERY_WAS_GOOD_FOR_THE_BLACK_MAN.asp">Slavery was good for the black man</a></span></strong><br /><br />Michael Dingwall<br />Saturday, August 09, 2008<br /><br />As we celebrate emancipation and independence, we are being reminded of the horrors of slavery. According to our leaders, academics and others, slavery was the worst institution ever created. However, while it is popular for most to agree with this claim, I beg to disagree. Indeed, contrary to the belief that slavery was bad for us blacks, I believe that slavery was good for us.<br />Have we ever stopped to consider where we black people, especially those of us in the West, would be right now if it weren't for the Atlantic Slave Trade? What state do you think black Africa would be in today? Do you think that we would have been better off without slavery? I don't think so!<br /><br />When the Europeans went to Africa to buy slaves, what did they find? They found a society and people vastly inferior to theirs. While the Europeans had emerged from their feudal practices, our ancestors in Africa, for the most part, had not developed for many centuries. We did not understand the concept of nation or government. Science and technology (and innovations in these areas) were non-existent in black Africa of the 15th and 16th centuries. Indeed, as a people, we had no sense of self-identity. In many respects, we were uncivilised.<br /><br />Slavery was our most important contact with modernity. It is through this "most heinous system ever created" that we blacks were able to understand some of the principles of global trade. Our ancestors were introduced to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade between Europe, Africa and the West Indies. Black Africa's part in the trade was the importation of European technology and the export of slaves. The importation of European technology was important - even though the Africans did not appreciate this importance at first. The export of slaves was also very important, especially for us in the West.<br /><br />As time went on, we blacks, both in Africa and especially in the Caribbean were, in many ways, being Europeanised and thus civilised. We adopted several aspects of their culture - their systems of government, their technologies, their sense of order and their languages. In doing this, we discarded those aspects of our culture that clearly placed us at a disadvantage - like our lack of sense of self, loyalty to the tribe and our non-participation in modern technology.<br /><br />Although not a believer in any god myself, the Christianity that came with slavery and European control would be of immense value to us black people. Back in Africa, we were preoccupied with the worship of animals, trees, spirits of the dead - even stones. These primitive religions that we were practising ensured that our ancestors in Africa were backward. The relatively superior Christianity, with its greater sense of order and responsibility would help, in many ways, to pull the black man out of the Stone Age. This could only have happened with slavery.<br /><br />Our relatively stable societies today, especially in the West, are testaments to the benefits of slavery. While it is true that black Africa has, for the most part, squandered the opportunities that slavery offered in the past, the positive influence of European civilisation cannot be denied. The black nation states of Africa and the Caribbean have given black people a sense of nation, a sense of identity, a sense of order and a sense of purpose - things we never had before.<br /><br />While we continue to demonstrate our inferiority in the areas of science and technology, through centuries of being exposed to Europe on account of slavery, we blacks are now aware of the need for us to start excelling in these areas.<br /><br />Those of us who continue to see the millions of blacks who died crossing the Atlantic and the displacement of what we had in Africa as proof that slavery was a bad institution don't understand the mechanics of human development and evolution. Similar processes had to be endured by countless peoples thoughout history. The development of the human race has always involved the need for change. Slavery was one such means, and like it or not, we blacks are the beneficiaries. It is not for us today to judge the means through which societies have changed in the past.<br /><br />We blacks were changed, for the better, I might add, on account of slavery. We are a better race today because our ancestors went though slavery. The millions of lives lost were not lost in vain. The Europeans proclaimed the need for us to be civilised through slavery and though this may be hard to understand, they were right. Indeed, based on what is happening in black Africa today - slavery for us in the West was, in many respects, our salvation.<br /><br />Michael Dingwall is a freelance <a href="mailto:writer.michael_a_dingwall@hotmail.com">writer. michael_a_dingwall@hotmail.com</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Hottie's response</strong></span><br /><br />Dear Mr Dingwall – and how appropriate that surname of yours has turned out to be – it was with a certain amount of disbelief and incredulousness that I read your column in the Jamaican Observer dated 9th August 2008. As I read your column I hoped that it would be revealed as a satirical piece. As I came to its rather distasteful end I had to accept that this vain hope would have elevated your disastrous writing to a level you appear incapable of attaining.<br /><br />I will push aside your bad grammar and terrible, lazy use of cliché and tackle the more serious error you have committed – inaccuracy. This article releases a malodour of desperation; of someone who slapped together the mandatory 800 words in order to meet a deadline so as to collect a much needed cheque. As a columnist myself I am insulted by your failure to take serious the importance of the job you sought to undertake. The overall falling standards of journalism worldwide should not operate as your personal measuring stick for the standard you should try to attain. Anyone who writes for the public must take seriously their responsibility – you are disseminating information that will not only last for a long time but will be accepted as fact by many who may not have access to other more reliable sources of information. It is your duty to ensure therefore that what you write IS fact.<br /><br />If you had tried to sell this piece as being purely opinion then it would have to be accepted as that – your opinion is your own and no one has to agree with it. However, in writing this piece you attempted to convince your readers that what you were presenting was fact. And that, pardon the following use of literary jargon, is where the bullshit started to stink.<br /><br />Now, I’m not going to attempt to correct you because while I do believe in miracles, I myself am not a miracle worker. Besides, quite a number of people have responded appropriately, pointing out the staggering amount of evidence that contradicts your writing. I will question what you consider as being “civilised” and how exactly would you measure a “superior culture”. Perhaps you need to take a trip to Spain where, on certain beaches you stand and marvel at the jellyfish floating around you in the water until you realise that they are actually used condoms. Or perhaps Eastern Europe where in some places indoor plumbing is something seen only on the Hollywood movies watched on communal TVs. Or how about “good old England”, your most recent coloniser, where the dream for the majority of the populace is to live on one of the Caribbean islands you disparage.<br /><br />And it is important to note that as these countries seek a new level of development they are returning to the ideas and practices they destroyed when they first encountered the countries you so ignorantly described as uncivilised. Of course, there is very little acknowledgment of this fact. And why should there be when the ill read and shoddily educated like you are eager to grind the very organs they demand you dance to?<br /><br />I must touch on “the relatively superior Christianity” that you’ve compared to the religions of Africa – oh, and by the way, you do know there was and still is more than one religion in Africa, right? The preoccupation with “the worship of animals, trees, spirits of the dead - even stones” that you described sounds alot like Catholicism to me – the endless animal sacrifices in the Old Testament which ended with the sacrifice of the Lamb of God; the Tree of Good and Evil, the Tree of Knowledge and the endless climbing of fig trees, parables about trees, olive trees, etc; spirits of the dead, well, we have Lazarus, Jesus, kings consulting with witches and evil spirits. The stones part? Just visit a Catholic church anywhere and count the stone statues you see and don’t forget the stoning of Stephen, the adulteress etc.<br /><br />There is one thing I agree with you about though, in case you’re starting to despair. The development of the human race has always involved the need for change. I advise you to seek your own development and become the agent of your own change. May I suggest you start by purchasing a book of rudimentary world history? At the very least, an English dictionary.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-88861686623434638042008-06-20T17:03:00.000-07:002008-06-20T17:04:25.982-07:00Boss video in allyuh pweffen<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJWT02HjgBM">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJWT02HjgBM</a><br /><br />Doh ask meh nuttin. Just watch it. Shhhhiiiiiiittttt.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-60020652316775137522008-06-17T04:28:00.000-07:002008-06-17T04:35:57.611-07:00My Pennywise ListSo my mom and aunt coming up to visit next month for four weeks (heaven help us) and she asked me to send her a list of things I want from Pennywise. All my friends who've seen the list ketching kicks so I thought I'd post it up (because you know I lazy no ass). And yes I know it's not strictly Pennywise stuff but you know what, is only a matter of time eh.<br /><br /><br /><strong>1. Sacha lipgloss:</strong> Tornado and Luscious something or the other. Nothing bright!<br /><strong>2. Hair pins and clips:</strong> Short ones. Make sure the tips have plastic bulbs so as not to gorge out scalp.<br /><strong>3. One Sacha eyeliner, black. </strong>Only Sacha eh, nothing else. (Optional as I have eyeliner, just not Sacha).<br /><strong>4. One box CLEANSE SMART.</strong> If you can only bring one thing on list, make this it!<br /><strong>5. Worm medicine.</strong> Yes, I think I have worms. Leave me alone.<br /><strong>6. Dinky clips.</strong> The silver ones nah. Just a small pack will suffice.<br /><strong>7. Black woggies.</strong> The medium size ones. Make sure they’re black eh, not the half dead greyish, nylon ones Pennywise does be selling sometimes.<br /><strong>8. Pond’s Clarant B.</strong> Check expiry date since Pennywise hit me a 6 for a 9 last time and sell me some that expired in a couple of months.<br /><strong>9. Colgate Whitening Toothpaste.</strong> About 3, 4 tubes. I don’t know why these people up here don’t realise they have a tooth problem and start making some decent whitening toothpaste.<br /><strong>10. Three Coconut Bake.</strong> Big<br /><strong>11. The tuna pastelles you made the last time.</strong> YUMMY!<br /><strong>12. Aunty seasoning.</strong> Big bottle.<br /><strong>13. Pepper sauce from the old lady who was tracking R.<br />14. Kellogg’s Corn Pops:</strong> Two, preferably three boxes I not joking. NOBODY sells it up here. Could remove from box to fit in suitcase.<br /><strong>15. Vicco tumeric face cream.</strong> One tube.<br /><strong>16. Rough tops cookies.</strong><br /><strong> 17. Big Silver Hoops.</strong> One pair. Ar could probably get those. Big eh. Skeggy but not Jamette size.<br /><strong>18. Ooooh! Ibuprofen 800.</strong> Ask pharmacist if I could take two at a time. The strongest thing up here is 400 and you need to buy that from the pharmacy direct. Steups.<br /><strong>19. Some soca CDs.</strong><br /><strong>20. Roti skin.</strong><br /><br /> If you could think of anything else I might need, help me out. Thanks.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-57722136488883842282008-05-15T07:09:00.001-07:002008-11-06T20:55:53.963-08:00Down in Fraggle Rock<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kAmVPf76_zxWQLVO1JhtGJMisyCDaOkiXNPlM98xSDULvi7YYTxeMOKAgLXscCDizm99IsIclq7SxVSidTYV3zDPcdN-pLBIPxMMmnINwga_6XAoxa8vF63TTLNP0QNbjTt6/s1600-h/junior-gorg-768169.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200606869971095570" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kAmVPf76_zxWQLVO1JhtGJMisyCDaOkiXNPlM98xSDULvi7YYTxeMOKAgLXscCDizm99IsIclq7SxVSidTYV3zDPcdN-pLBIPxMMmnINwga_6XAoxa8vF63TTLNP0QNbjTt6/s320/junior-gorg-768169.jpg" border="0" /></a> Remember a while back I told you guys about the Fraggle Rock movie? Well, it's been confirmed! It's most likely going to be a musical - which kicks ass - and the whole gang's gona be there. I should give you guys a link to the story or something but I'm too lazy so Google it nah. Dance your cares away - clap clap - worry's for another da a ay...<br /><br />P.S. I used to work with a guy that was the stinking image of Junior Gorg. Incredible thing was, my boy though he was a player. Sad.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-57980338588549807562008-04-17T01:57:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:54.136-08:00Thundercat/Tailspin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_qwasiy2vKl3mGOpIxlvaSaXTfSsbC96hp3ophSbbj93VJT8jOhOp0QY0FRrmm11LTiVyDtgKY6n9sV_p90KE7ibjkZSN1KbCCGo4XZxOXnsYNOJ5AwVXsNHHipDOQw9Pvd1/s1600-h/cheetara_.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190136415780579154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_qwasiy2vKl3mGOpIxlvaSaXTfSsbC96hp3ophSbbj93VJT8jOhOp0QY0FRrmm11LTiVyDtgKY6n9sV_p90KE7ibjkZSN1KbCCGo4XZxOXnsYNOJ5AwVXsNHHipDOQw9Pvd1/s320/cheetara_.jpg" border="0" /></a> Morning morning everybody. Well if allyuh waiting to hear any more antics from the weekend allyuh will be disappointed. Nuttin happen. Well, nothing that coulda make de papers. Trying to behave mehself and come to terms with the fact that I am SHITTING bored. Not no kinda joke bored yuh know. BORED.<br /><br />Meh wuk boring, meh body missing the fix from hustling with school, work etc. Not that I mind that much eh because I think I went through enough zafaire, commess and bacchanal in the last 14 months or so to last me for a few years well. I tired. So lemme keep meh backside quiet yes. And try to reduce it lil bit. But dat is a next post.<br /><br />So a lil joke this morning. It have this radio station ah does listen to, XFM. They does play plenty new releases, indie pop/rock, anything that eh really main stream I guess. So anyway, yuh girl on the train this morning listening to the music the DJ playing, feeling the vibes – he hit we with a lil Goldfrapp, Foo Fighters, Stones, things going nice. Bam!!!!!!!!! Ah setta gorilla start to grunt in meh ears through the headphones. Yuh BELIEVE the DJ play the theme song fuh Tailspin?!<br /><br />Well here nah, is a good thing I in the people country long enough so ah have a lil training. Still, ah nearly PEE mehself. Tears! Meh chest HUTTING meh fus ah braksing from laughing out loud. OH GOOOUUUDDD!!!!!! Tailspin yuh know. When last yuh watch that? Ah should expect that assness yuh know, because a lil while ago they did hit we the theme song fuh Thundercats. Dat one had meh dancing. Who else had a crash on Panthera? And wanted to be Cheetara?<br /><div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-62333224713606845982008-04-09T02:37:00.000-07:002008-04-09T02:41:46.868-07:00Corsets and DiamondsSo yuh girl had a ball this weekend. Sheesheetay meh backside on Friday and nearly lose meh toes in a pair of high heeled granny boots. Throw down a bottle a wine with a friend, we find we still stand up strong, making plenty sense and thing still.<br /><br />“Dat wine eh strong at all man,” meh friend say.<br /><br />“Nah man. Not at all,” I say.<br /><br />“Should we buy another one?” she asked.<br /><br />“Hold up, lemme go and pee.”<br /><br />As yuh girl reach the toilet the place start to dance. Nothing major eh, just a lil gentle swaying, like when yuh hear a song in public yuh like and yuh want to dance but can’t. So I went back outside to tell meh fren well lewwe hold a lil strain because like the wine strong after all. Lo and behold, a next bottle rest down in front she and two glass full up. Needless to say, yuh girl cackle and fling rong sheself whole night. Wasn’t drunk, mind you. But was FLIPPIN’ TIPSY.<br /><br />Saturday den. Went to a Tex Mex restaurant in Tralfalgar Square and the bitches dem had only one veggie option, which consisted of a HEAP a half dead looking (and tasting) mix rice and black bean fajitas that I still looking for. But I wait so long to get the damn food anyway that I full up fas. Then was off to a burlesque party. This is what, the second, third time I went to see woman stripping for the year so far? If I did like woman is one thing, but yuh would wonder why I eh find meh backside in a male strip club/party eh.<br /><br />So yeah, the theme was Corsets and Diamonds but yuh girl couldn’t find a pants to go with the corset (if I did only know what other people was wearing I coulda damn well just go in a panty and bra). So I end up wearing a corsety like dress which was cool if not for the fact that I bought it when I was 10lbs lighter and it was ARREADY tight. Needless to say I ripped the thing by the end of the night. I feel it happen when I was crawling across the crouch to Like a Virgin. Or when I was dancing on the stage. Or it could be when I was pretending I was in a music video standing in front the big fan with meh hair blowing in the wind. Dat was in de second club called Ghetto. Doh ask.<br /><br />Saw two woman fighting in the toilet because one ah dem say de next one was leading she on because she giving she current and she done have a woman. Den they come out and ask me what I think. Me sister?! Me eh think nuttin nah. Next thing yuh know people woman want to brace me because I say. Anyway, crawl home fore day morning – after nearly lambasting this annoying, mad, crass, ghetto Jamaican woman in the station. Was snowing on the way home and by the time I crawl to bed by 9 everything was white and I was dead. So, what allyuh get up to?Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-77865815511118832342008-04-01T03:09:00.000-07:002008-04-01T03:10:51.807-07:00Masters and midgets (not pc I know)Allyuh, thanks eh. Thanks. Ah blushing here. Well, half a that is the capillaries in meh face swelling from too much alco in the system but part of it is modesty too (kyah kyah, kyah). So allyuh, yes. Yuh girl get a distinction. After the rangotango with meh supervisor (who only understand meh topic after she change it (mudderass) and the computer crashing and the fool from Dell nearly wiping meh harddrive clean (including my dissy. I woulda beat dat). Is a good feeling, yes.<br /><br />So now, what I going and do? Well, wukking full time now and it feels GOOD to have some money to meh name. Doh mind as it come it gone eh but still. Have some debts to pay off and need to save but the general plan is to head back Trini sometime in the next two years. Doh mind yuh girl feel like she could head back home now yes but doh make any sense to go with no money in hand and debt collectors at meh heels.<br /><br />So I know allyuh want to hear about the midget. Well, yuh girl went to a lesbian club with she fren so the two ah we liming and ting, dancing normal. And no I’m not a lesbian but the club does play some boss music and perfect for when you want to go and dance without a setta man jumbieing yuh scene. So anyway, we dancing, sipping on we wine and ting when these two woman come up and start to dance close by. Now as Trini woman know, woman dancing with woman eh no scene back home or in a Trini fete. Woman does be jumping up and wining down together and when nighttime come they going home with they man cool cool. But I does keep forgetting that I not in Trini. And these women were not Trinidadians.<br /><br />So one ah dem do a kinda technical manoeuvre and block off meh fren and she fren start to tackle me. But I realise I bigger than she and meh fren acting cool so we cool. We’s woman! We enjoying the music! We feteing man! Eh heh! My girl start to get on freaky! She all up on the Hotness. I eh trying to hurt nobody feelings but I know I eh swinging that way so I trying to step back. My girl push forward and rubbing up all over yuh girl – doh mind she only reaching up to meh breast – but that mustbe wasn’t a problem for she nah. While yuh girl trying to deal with this she GONE IN for the kill and start to squeeze up Hottie bamcee. Well that was in end of that. I eh want to hurt your feelings but you eh mind hurting up my bumcee. Not to mention my sense of shame. I doh know, I does attract dese people yes. Hmmm… what does that say about me?Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-24928272507473087312008-03-25T03:35:00.000-07:002008-03-25T03:38:12.721-07:00Distinction, bitches!!!!!!Take THAT in allyuh pipe and SMOKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Allyuh eh seeing me for about a month. Awrite, awrite. Ah now come back so ah kyah disappear yet. Results back (unofficially) and yuh girl get a distinction! So is Hottie Hottie HD, MBA (Dist.) Bwa hah hah!!! Thanks Great Dane.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-23112333475037796932008-03-19T08:33:00.000-07:002008-03-19T08:34:17.008-07:00Woye Wooooye!!!!!So those of you who thought Hottie Hottie had died a sudden and spectacular death – no. Sorry to disappoint you. I’m here, exams done, dissertation submitted and blood alcohol level consistently too high for the everyday drudgery that is work. ALLYUH AH DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I have to fill allyuh in on all de excitement. Ahmm, the midget lesbian that feel up meh ass on Old Years’ night, the new wuk; how the dissy went; the NEXT unstable, mad no ass, borderline sociopath housemate; ooo the housemate who kyah seem to understand that indoor toilet could flush; the hunt for a new apartment; the lesbian stripper that stole my heart – EEF allyuh see that bumcee. What else? Plenty man, plenty. So no internet at home (result of fight with money HONGREE housemate i.e. the sociopath) so have a lil patience with meh. So what have you guys been up to?Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-28979834591732212482007-09-16T14:15:00.000-07:002007-09-16T14:27:09.460-07:00The United States of Sudan<em>Column this week </em> <strong>EXAMS!!!!!!!!</strong><br /><br />Did anyone see the Miss Teen USA pageant recently? It’s not that strange a question to be asking this I think, because if I remember ANYTHING about TV back home it’s the plethora of mindless North American programming we’re spoon fed like so much nutrient free slop. And if I remember two things about TV back home it’s how much the average viewer laps up this slop, even while complaining about it and going back for more.<br /><br />And as an aside, if the fact that I’ve written North American programming as opposed to just plain American programming struck you as a bit strange, I’ll explain. It has been pointed out to me by a number of South Americans that they consider it offensive when people refer to the USA as America, since America in fact refers to the entire continent of which the US is actually a small part. Well, when compared to the rest. So, duly noted and corrected. It’s a valid point and since it makes me tizzy when someone refuses to acknowledge the individuality of the various Caribbean islands, lumping us all together like so many potatoes in a crocus bag, I’ll try to extend the same consideration from now on.<br /><br />So to continue with my story, the highlight of the show was the answer by Miss South Carolina, an eighteen year old named Lauren Caitlin Upton. And doesn’t that name just sound all American and perky and blonde and sky blue cheerleader uniformish with a boyfriend named Brett? Miss Upton’s question was, “Recent polls have shown a fifth of Americans can’t locate the US on a world map. Why do you think this is?” And this is where the excitement began.<br /><br />Miss Upton’s response, verbatim, was, “I personally believe that US Americans are unable to do so because, uh, some people out there in our nation don't have maps, and, uh, I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like, such as and I believe that they should, our education over here in the US should help the US, er, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future for our children.”<br /><br />Now in case anyone thinks I actually sat down and watched this mind numbing spectacle, let me state emphatically I didn’t. The only mind numbing spectacle I watch is The X Factor, which is like American idol only with stranger people auditioning with really bad teeth. The video clip of her response has been making the rounds of the Internet, like a bag of red mango in class after lunch, only less salty. My original response when I saw this clip was incredulity. What exactly was she trying to say? And what does South Africa have to do with the lack of maps, really? At least she got two out of the four all important words in: “future” and “children”. Unfortunately, she didn’t manage to work in “world peace”.<br /><br />Perhaps even more interesting is the reaction. An increasing number of people are coming out in her defence, saying that not only was her question pretty hard, but hers was actually quite a good answer. If that’s a good answer, would someone PLEASE send me the link to a bad one!? I’ve done some research myself, because I obviously don’t have enough to do when the day comes, and found some even more shocking statistics like the one Miss South Carolina couldn’t respond properly to.<br /><br />A National Geographic survey done in the USA in 2006 revealed that half of young people aged 18-24 couldn’t find the state of Mississippi on a world map. Only fourteen per cent think that it’s important to be able to speak another language fluently and one third didn’t know what direction North West is on a map. In fact, 48% couldn’t find New York on a map and think Sudan –the largest country in Africa – is in Asia. Forty eight per cent also believe that the majority of the population in India is Muslim.<br /><br />But before we start laughing and talking about “those stupid Americans” let’s be honest with ourselves. How many of us can speak Spanish, with Venezuela being a hop, skip and a jump away? Everytime I mention to a Trini that I can speak Spanish the response is what I can best describe as subdued awe, like I’ve admitted I have a third nipple. Quick, tell me where Rampanalgas is? Biche? Sangre Chiquito? And that’s in our own county. What’s our area and geographic co-ordinates? To save you from looking them up it’s 5,128 sq km and 1100 N, 6100 W. And yes, I had to look them up too.<br /><br />The thing is, I knew all this stuff when I wrote Common Entrance, as we all must. So I guess this just confirms what I’ve always suspected. I was smarter back then than I am now. At least, I would have been better equipped to give Miss Upton a hand.<br />Or at least a geography lesson.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-49190054260318830612007-08-24T09:23:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:54.955-08:00But what de ass?!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-5XpQFzaTybQmSmmipaXAI3zmKGXpcW75RKV52hox2B-gxV6qRuPcuYk6_yhzWy-XTfhH4AeEjzYoieK15M59ca3RqUu6dhvlfBbl02U5IjzCzDpmjbXSXjgjicRumT3Y6Hq/s1600-h/What+de+fuck.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102303643304693442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-5XpQFzaTybQmSmmipaXAI3zmKGXpcW75RKV52hox2B-gxV6qRuPcuYk6_yhzWy-XTfhH4AeEjzYoieK15M59ca3RqUu6dhvlfBbl02U5IjzCzDpmjbXSXjgjicRumT3Y6Hq/s320/What+de+fuck.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-73332607869041819262007-08-21T19:07:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:55.810-08:00TIEF HEAD!!!!!! Ah MISS meh chance<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101342798991036066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="266" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUr7wA6dPCztw3vK4ykXLQFiKgHx04CHQ82Mg-BoAdzf3XwYo5XtLD0gzPGkW9HxfzsdxIvxdzinYBBNlqi7i7nyej5pmme4LxIsF8_R2rBP-4QqYl7ETy5gXb5aZjr_ZBxMAZ/s400/tief+head.jpg" width="322" border="0" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCt4lZuWRF-p71RN64Lo4J1sjgqn1PP6YhvZXh40_4gv3FtMD7MQNOqdC4f4cWSYBYWpE8xs2_6pYfh7GEgEU2WCuzznRzrHxIdDrFoiDtf5jZa2852yZ_F5bGufAH6Dp7HRw/s1600-h/Camera+1+074.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101343967222140594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="266" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCt4lZuWRF-p71RN64Lo4J1sjgqn1PP6YhvZXh40_4gv3FtMD7MQNOqdC4f4cWSYBYWpE8xs2_6pYfh7GEgEU2WCuzznRzrHxIdDrFoiDtf5jZa2852yZ_F5bGufAH6Dp7HRw/s400/Camera+1+074.JPG" width="372" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div>Allyuh remember the fella on top? This is him <a href="http://modest-goddess.blogspot.com/2006/09/panty-creamer_05.html">here</a>. Well guess what. The second picture is he too. At V. Standing next to me. Did I jump him? No. Did I assault him? No. Did we proceed to make mad, passionate love on the grassy verges of the stage? Of course not. Right now I could be lying in bed with my feet in stirrups to facilitate getting empregnated with his love child but no. I am sperm free. You know what? I'm a wuss. I'm dissappointed in myself. If I was a man I'd be calling myself up and badtalking me. I have failed. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Oh well, yuh know what? He probably has saggy balls. Damn.</div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-78220508994672680432007-08-21T18:08:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:56.031-08:00Saggy balls<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TB0AFdEUT3QJBwNqU3JwxfdQeD__p0iaYJ6CWEcMEYFg7AW5OI7hzAkMfPR7ZCUl_2LVW8lthfBiYLN6EoZHMNk75TsYzbbD3dxLHg35HoBZ0nI1vaRYsMi3EsoV-ZTYukN9/s1600-h/blog+pic.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101329828189802130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TB0AFdEUT3QJBwNqU3JwxfdQeD__p0iaYJ6CWEcMEYFg7AW5OI7hzAkMfPR7ZCUl_2LVW8lthfBiYLN6EoZHMNk75TsYzbbD3dxLHg35HoBZ0nI1vaRYsMi3EsoV-ZTYukN9/s400/blog+pic.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>For those of you who have always wondered what saggy, pathetic, unappealing white balls look like, today is your day. This is me (with a ridiculous white box drawn over my face (GOD but I need to get Photoshop)) at the V festival last Saturday. Yes, while most of you were outside cleaning your neighbour's dogshit off your lawn I was posing with a bunch of drunk no ass men wearing dresses and turning their penises into vaginas. See the kind of power I have? I also have some pictures of Wolverine, Batman and some Oompa Loompas but I have my assignments to do people! Have some consideration and give me a break nah. God! Yuh kyah SATISFY some people...</div><div></div><div><strong>Coming next week</strong> - Ever wondered what a YEAST INFECTION <em>really</em> looks like? Prepare to wonder no more.</div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-28878226683998322252007-08-20T13:32:00.000-07:002007-08-20T13:33:55.851-07:00What Sesame Street taught me<em><span style="font-size:85%;">Column this week</span></em><br /><br />I recently realised that YouTube has almost every classic skit that ever appeared on Sesame Street. From the Alligator King to the opera singing orange, you name it and dig around long enough, you’ll find it. I’m aware that most people probably already know this, and it seems safe to bet at least one reader is shaking his head and going, “But who didn’t know that? Steups.” So seeing that I have four four thousand word assignments due next week (a nice, healthy total of 16,000 words) I’ve naturally spent endless hours pulverising time by watching Kermit the Frog’s news flashes and Ernie tormenting Bert. And I’ve realised that, even though I didn’t know it when I was a child growing up, Sesame Street has taught me some invaluable lessons, which I will share with you.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson One:</strong> An overactive imagination is a very cool thing. Think about it. You had aliens from outer space trying to chat up telephones; a huge, hairy, mastodon like creature that only one person could see; talking fruit; the tap dancing invisible man and the disco frog. Every day for years Sesame Street showed children that all they needed was their imagination and the whole world could become their playground. And they did all this with little or no special effects, unlike so many of the shows of today that utilise so many special effects that they’re no longer special. I wonder what Jim would have to say to that?<br /><br /><strong>Lesson Two:</strong> Eating enough fruits and vegetables is really important. Who could forget Captain Vegetable (with his carrot and his celery)? He looked like a slightly shady character and acted like he had too much caffeine in his system, but his enthusiasm was infectious and the message good. They never showed kids pigging out on sweets on the show – unless you count bubble gum, but that was part of a lesson that taught you that B is better than any letter for bu – bble – gum. If they tried to shoot that skit now they’d probably have Bubblicious sponsoring the segment and the children would all have blindly white caps and nose jobs.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson Three:</strong> The world is full of all sorts of people and you just have to learn to get along with them. Let’s see, we had sprangers (would you like to buy an O?); neurotics (Telly Monster); impatient middle class perfectionists (Prairie Dawn); people with strange, hippie sounding names (Prairie Dawn); people that on the surface were mean but that’s because you didn’t know them (Oscar) and people that were obviously different but that was ok (the Two Headed monster). Then you had the people that were cool (John John), the people that were not so cool (Bert) and the people who obviously liked each other but could never seem to hook up (David and Maria). Then of course you had a wide representation of different races, cultures and experiences and know what? We learned that it doesn’t matter what’s on the outside but rather, what’s on the inside (forgive me for sounding a bit Hallmark cardish there). And we didn’t even realise we were being taught so cool a lesson. Some world leaders obviously didn’t have TV when growing up.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson Four:</strong> Music rocks. Olivia’s “Who am I?” Ernie’s, “I would like to visit the moon.” Harry Belafonte and Kermit singing “Caribbean Amphibian.” Yo Yo Ma and the Honkers, Kermit’s African Alphabet (amazing, beautiful creatures dancing). Hmmm, what else? Herbie Hancock and Tatyana Ali, Forgetful Jones singing Eeklahoma and the Count singing about his bats. The list is almost endless as were the topics they sang about. Of course, all this was before the days of Gina and before Elmo came alone and overshadowed everyone with his annoying third person self referencing. And it didn’t matter if you couldn’t sing or dance, case in point, Bert singing “Doin’ the Pigeon. What mattered was that you had fun while doing it and most times people joined in with you, kind of like the scene in every Indian movie when the boy and girl start singing the words for a song that remarkably everyone around them knows – and the dance too!<br /><br /><strong>Lesson Five:</strong> All good things come to an end. Yeah, yeah, I know this one is a bit depressing but that’s life. And it’s an important lesson. Eventually you have to go to primary then secondary school, you start missing Sesame Street and on the odd days when you’re sick and you stay home and you get to watch it you scratch your head and wonder, huh? Where’s the talking typewriter? Where’s Grover? Who’s this blonde chick that’s talking down to everyone, acting like she’s too good to be seen with Muppets? Where’d Bob go? And eventually you realise that the good old glory days are gone and you’re better off doing some Maths or taking your cold medicine and going to bed. And then life gets in the way and then you’re working, day in, day out, bored out of your skull until you say ok, it’s time to immigrate and go to school and you have four four thousand word papers to produce in a week’s time and while procrastinating you come across the classic Sesame Street that you thought you’d lost forever. And you realise, wow, they still have the power to captivate you like nothing else and the same lessons are there, waiting for you to rediscover them.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-78883290932823007952007-08-16T14:10:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:56.379-08:00Hottie gone to de dogs!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOftJTX7rYnQJYNjK4m5yeVwrnCgXPDWjHxXtk2G8qSoFEtSsms8Cst38kvRSonZ6M9uz7Fpyq8qt1r7xGfAcRJhpBmKe47bIyvDuv6S45ACOwy3dxrliJ6kF9pPqbyDrnDxsv/s1600-h/old+man.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099410544744173186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOftJTX7rYnQJYNjK4m5yeVwrnCgXPDWjHxXtk2G8qSoFEtSsms8Cst38kvRSonZ6M9uz7Fpyq8qt1r7xGfAcRJhpBmKe47bIyvDuv6S45ACOwy3dxrliJ6kF9pPqbyDrnDxsv/s320/old+man.jpg" border="0" /></a>Aye aye! I eh tell allyuh bout de old man from Malaysia try to pick me up on the bus last week? Stop me and ask if I's a Trini, how only a woman as pretty and sexy like me could be a Trini. Something very wrong about a man missing half he teeth saying the word sexy eh. Like yuh should forfeit all rights to them kinda words when yuh cyah say nuts. Anyway, so my boy well squeezing up yuh girl arm and ting, want to know what I doing up here and when I tell him I studying he offering to tutor me, how it have PLENTY ting he could teach me. Well, yuh know yuh girl, I answer back it have plenty ting I could teach him too. WHO tell me say dat?! My boy eye and dem open up big big and he start to grin and bawl eh heh! Want to take my phone number. Like he could see to dial any damn phone number. Thank GOD ah did reach meh stop so I bounce off. And he trying to grab me and pull me back on the bus! So anyway, the reason why I telling allyuh dis is because a NEXT old man try tracking meh today. I walking up the steps by Guy's and St Thomas hospital dey, one old quenk walking down the stairs. I see him scoping meh out but me eh take him on. Aye aye! When I look so, is because pally making pace back up the stairs to tell me I beautiful, he want my number so we could arrange to meet to get to know me better. Yuh know, is only man does be brave so. The average woman does wonder all kinda ting before she go talk to a man - IF she could even muster the courage. EEF you see the condition ah dem jagabat that be harassing me up here. Steups. And what does it say about me that this is the caliber of man I attracting? I tink I offficially in a mess yes. I going and rest. <div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-59324427219004048892007-08-15T00:21:00.001-07:002007-08-15T00:22:21.291-07:00Looking for tickets?Allyuh, check out meh link fuh Carnival fete tickets next door. Dais ah hook up. Now say thanks. And doh budder meh again.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-53171181002932283012007-08-15T00:13:00.000-07:002007-08-15T00:15:36.828-07:00Snapshot of summer<p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Column this week</span></em></p><p><strong>Sunday:</strong> It’s 30 degrees, the hottest day for the year so far. The neighbours have strung lights along their fence, in preparation for an all afternoon, late night barbeque. The sky, unblemished by a single cloud, glistens as though polished. The leaves on the trees, dancing to the music the wind makes by blowing through them, shine as though rubbed down with the same cloth. Inside the house – insulated to contain all possible heat during the long winter – is unbearably hot. Still somewhat pasty and loathing to waste the light by sweltering indoors, I put on a bikini purchased over a year ago and waiting to be worn. Books spread over the backyard and shiny with sunblock, I sit, tan and study.<br /><br /><strong>Monday:</strong> Told the night before that Sunday would be followed by a week of rain, I awake to find – joy of joys – sunlight. It will not last, the radio tells us. Tomorrow the rains will be back with chances of flooding once again. But for today, there is sun. I pull on jeans and a t-shirt, and then change my mind. I open my window, put my hand out. Yes, warm enough for a vest and skirt, a chance to top up on Sunday’s tan and feel a bit like it’s summer. Walking down the street I see people in anoraks and cardigans. Am I becoming acclimatized, or is it a case of optimism overtaking reality? Whatever it is it has allowed me to leave my house not wearing much. And I am grateful.<br /><br /><strong>Tuesday:</strong> The carriage rocks from the force of the train passing by. We’re just outside London Bridge, waiting for our turn to pull into the station. Two little children sit with their father in front of me, red haired or ginger as they’re called here. Ginger minger. Red haired and covered in freckles, like brown sugar sprinkled over their faces and shoulders. They’re drinking from little boxes of fruit juice, their lips pursed around the brightly coloured straws. Their dad takes out a tube of sunblock and slathers their noses and shoulders. His own face is florid, as are the faces of many of the fairer passengers on the train, in the station when we pull up to the platform. As I make my way down to the tube an announcement is made that in this hot weather, it is advisable that passengers carry a bottle of water to prevent dehydration. I take a sip from my own bottle and admire my dark brown arms.<br /><br /><strong>Wednesday:</strong> I sit in class and look outside the window at the building opposite. The windows are hung with huge baskets full of flowers whose name, as I type this sentence, I realise I don’t know. I don’t remember noticing them before; I don’t know how I could not have. The colours are startling against the plain white walls. Puce, purple, fuchsia are exploding brilliantly on my retina. I turn to face the lecturer at the front of the class and realise one of my classmates is wearing a dress the exact fuchsia colour as the flowers. Her colour choice is glorious – she stands out like a flare among the tamer baby blues and whites of the classroom.<br /><br /><strong>Thursday:</strong> The miracle continues. Each day the radios tell us will be the last before the rains return and every last day is followed by a brighter, hotter one. I go running in the park and there is a man on a skateboard, flying a kite. The wind billows the sickle shaped toy and the man is towed across the grass. People have put up mini tents and sit at their entrances, reading three for the price of two novels and scratching insect bites. Men walk their dogs along the grassy verges, combining the daily chores of pet attendance, doctor recommended constitutionals and getting fresh air. I realise I can barely breathe and my thighs feel like they’re on fire. Maybe, I tell myself, a nice stroll will be just as effective.<br /><br /><strong>Friday:</strong> “You have any plans for later?” I write the note and slide it across to my classmate. “None at all,” slides back to me. Both our eyes follow the lecturer as he walks in front the room; it’s as though our hands have become disembodied. This lecturer is particular – he wants no talking in class, very little participation. He is, we’ve determined, in love with the sound of his own voice. I notice him repeating words, changing their cadence each time. He isn’t as bad as the lecturer I’ve nicknamed Turtle, because it was only after ten minutes of hearing him speak that I realised his lecture wasn’t about the reptiles. He was actually saying total. “Glass of wine after class?” I write back. “But of course!” Outside is still bright at seven, eight. Girls stroll along Oxford Circus in short shorts. Unfortunately, some men too. I get home after the hour long spectacle that dusk in summer sometimes is, the colours of night whitewashing the sky. On days like these, I think as I remove my makeup, it’s easy to imagine living in England forever.<br /> </p>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-17763512818456304182007-08-07T12:33:00.000-07:002007-08-07T12:36:11.738-07:00Is really Black Magic, ouiHear nuh, anybody check out Tribe website yet? Allyuh want to cornfuse me. Black Magic looking SWEET!!!!!! The regular eh, not the frontline. That frontline is way too much corbeax feather. But they tiefin' meh head with that regular. TIEFIN!!!!!!!! Oh gorm! Now I hadda go chaneg up all meh plans again.Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-61321941453494179942007-08-07T12:10:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:57.023-08:00Purple Reign? - The reviewish<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo066cQ9j4H6DzyYbOVWhsaFU0Momx4RhsUXM3jJkeJ9Rq3SdWst3OdmTPH0x2S-Rz7Kd5QznlQrbRQhxsZQj4lUgOE6-S4u6WJYPzUPwKK6HiGrm5QKq5RW6FZm_aGKz0TQDI/s1600-h/machel.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096038717313360978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo066cQ9j4H6DzyYbOVWhsaFU0Momx4RhsUXM3jJkeJ9Rq3SdWst3OdmTPH0x2S-Rz7Kd5QznlQrbRQhxsZQj4lUgOE6-S4u6WJYPzUPwKK6HiGrm5QKq5RW6FZm_aGKz0TQDI/s400/machel.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgri4hkPOsdboHhYIJoY9NGd360Tk2FrQcx4ha2IaG_L3-sN-37oiERLqpn6XauokrkFFk8XTgsD4iMfCo5pFeNS-cUMYYO1y6pcXNojMMmcqb18H4WbuflGbcZBjG7ztKmxE4t/s1600-h/machel.jpg"></a><div><br />Well the more I see foreign artists perform live the more I think Machel Montano is a genius. I’m still waiting to see a foreign artist work a crowd like Machel does, especially when he gets down to business and takes off his shirt and starts singing “Water flowing” or “Powder Puff”. Ranking right alongside him is David Rudder, sweet talking the crowd with one hand up in the air, the crowd swaying and braying almost orgiastically as he sings “Rally ‘Round the West Indies” and “Calypso Music”. Coming second is Denyse Belfon in a stretch pants doing the bicycle wine and smiling her smile that can melt any heart and singing songs of overt slackness, the crowd standing and watching in awe.<br /><br />Culture, I know accounts for a number of things – our dancing in front the stage experience may not translate well in other countries where sitting and watching is the norm. And in all fairness, I have to say I haven’t seen that many live performances. Back in secondary school I did the whole Boyz II Men, Colour Me Badd, MC Hammer thing and I’ve done the 80s big band/big hair thing –Survivor and Air Supply and Flock of Seagulls. And I’ve done the English band thing – the Killers and Kasabian and The Fratellis. They were all good in their own way, getting the crowd to sing along and clap and dance haphazardly or flay around wildly, depending, of course, on how shy or stinking drunk you are.<br /><br />But from these haphazard experiences I conclude that nothing compares to the electric hum in the air as you stand in a crowd waiting for Machel to come on stage. You stand there in whatever piece of outfit you encased your body in, facing the stage, heart racing, skin tingling, foot hurting. Some people taking a chance to go for drinks by the bar but it’s mainly men; the women not moving unless it’s to squeeze their way up front to get a better look at the winer boy. Around you are girls in hot shorts, men in baggies, flag bearers waving their support and loyalty, and the ever present Powder Posse with their containers of Johnson’s and Johnson’s. And we’re not even talking about the confetti that’s spurted into the air when he sings his current hits, twisting and floating down to land on heads like a benediction or the fireworks that explode like a revelation above the heads of the writhing, waving, wining fans in glorious synergy with the emotional release of the crowd.<br /><br />I went to see Prince perform this weekend. All of last week the anticipation was there – purple sneakers, purple top, half serious musings about the possibility of going in a purple body suit, if such a thing could be found and his music on almost 24 hour rotation. And then the day itself or should I say the evening and we’re sitting in the stands, waiting. And then the band came on and the crowd went wild and part of the stage opened and – could it be? Is it him? Is it? Yes! – Prince rose up and out of the floor, dressed from head to toe in, seducing the microphone and promising to satisfy us in that impossible falsetto of his. And then that was it really. </div><div><br />By 10.30 he was finished. We didn’t realise that when the band had come back on in response to our insistent clapping that that had been an encore, the lagniappe at the end of the show. Now don’t get me wrong, the show had many moments. You don’t get a musical genius like Prince on stage without there being moments of almost celestial bliss. But there was no satiation; no feeling that is was impossible for you to have enjoyed yourself any more than you did. </div><div> </div><div></div><div>I wonder how much of this is culture, how much were my expectations coloured by my experience of calypsonians and soca stars singing and dancing for hours on end and still giving us more when we demand it? The English reviews are all glowing but my friends from Sri Lanka, Australia and Belgium were, like myself, disappointed. They spoke of other concerts, mostly by artists from their countries, that were greater and more satisfactory. Maybe it’s simply a case that local artists know their crowd best so they know how to satisfy them. But it’s interesting to note that even in something as universal as music, and with an artist as global as Prince, culture colours reception and can still lead to division. </div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Photo courtesy The Trinidad Guardian.<br /></em></span></div><div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-76580784090133866142007-08-02T17:34:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:57.386-08:00I'M GOING TO SEE PRINCE TONIGHT!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvNlC6MLsdBamJHPwQ7oRgLPUlMBytzni5MCSLgfygPzb7GZmBnyQ4THo16FxSBoRVu4VeFTpMw5io1rVrjrex8ZEIBo9oEyFRs75GUo-gNFKpbrT-4niwMWgnbEcurJWtx4J/s1600-h/060531_prince_vlarg_11a_widec.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094266583742260274" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvNlC6MLsdBamJHPwQ7oRgLPUlMBytzni5MCSLgfygPzb7GZmBnyQ4THo16FxSBoRVu4VeFTpMw5io1rVrjrex8ZEIBo9oEyFRs75GUo-gNFKpbrT-4niwMWgnbEcurJWtx4J/s400/060531_prince_vlarg_11a_widec.jpg" border="0" /></a> Yes Prince! Is me calling yuh! Allyuh, this is where I will be tonight. In the company of this man. Doh mind there will be hundreds (thousands?) of others, he will be singing for only me, me, MMMMEEEE!!!!!!! Hear that bitches?! Oh wow. I need to go lie down. Where's my purple eyeshadow? My purple underwear? Oh to hell with it. Where's my purple bodypaint?<br /><div> </div><div> </div><div>I LOVE YOU PRINCE!</div><div> </div><div>Will give you guys an update. Hyper, hyper...</div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-51093873813632854282007-07-31T04:45:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:57.987-08:00Well am. I eh know nah<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtXSe5wwwoNwlOrlVgQbPuDeQVEAWHfHxDqu_egLC_bDLZm_vyyhpPYG4-xD-TYpkX6Cc0TLMCinyF3K3mz3fL9ce5eXI2-hph-y3RgkTKjxCXno92-JW5Yra_XrkS-HNoRbN/s1600-h/prom9%5B1%5D.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9IMgl4AqvYeQaCZzm4ITizPaRInJyHz1kdgEg1XK_0Es8yRWP1PV3EyGXC-JnOyqdfv_5P7hVxYLl65i0Td3LTMyNx3VyDXHZ_nIqJn40JxCiPC2QKWaoWpHlrv3TKjXRH3vV/s1600-h/prom7b%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093328734683505682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" height="337" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9IMgl4AqvYeQaCZzm4ITizPaRInJyHz1kdgEg1XK_0Es8yRWP1PV3EyGXC-JnOyqdfv_5P7hVxYLl65i0Td3LTMyNx3VyDXHZ_nIqJn40JxCiPC2QKWaoWpHlrv3TKjXRH3vV/s320/prom7b%5B1%5D.jpg" width="190" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4VsDnq872Z22w9uHOOWF4JKK94BaHR4nWLMof_5KxkTUsvgUSqKXWEV1t58p3Kay3pEX7sx1y6FnoVt_XLFm3Ul6mmujXWq9eh_eNlGh8dyhWCUs3UBRf_Tb3ipd07hBQGrx/s1600-h/ghetto_prom4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093327424718480386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 183px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px" height="332" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4VsDnq872Z22w9uHOOWF4JKK94BaHR4nWLMof_5KxkTUsvgUSqKXWEV1t58p3Kay3pEX7sx1y6FnoVt_XLFm3Ul6mmujXWq9eh_eNlGh8dyhWCUs3UBRf_Tb3ipd07hBQGrx/s320/ghetto_prom4.jpg" width="235" border="0" /></a>When faced with something like this, what does one say? Ah mean, really, yuh tink dese people really have all they crayons in the box? This is what yuh go put on to go yuh prom? I guess the first one really proud that she's pregnant or, decided to end the months of speculation leading up to the big night? Allyuh find ah putting on weight? Lemme SHOW allyuh how much weight ah put on. Moving on. Well, I guess they must really like Wallace. Not being that much of a basketball fan anymore (nobody really interesting to watch) I couldn't tell you who he was. But hey, at least the shoes, er, sneakers match. Nice. Dem is some BOSS pictures to look back on in, I don't know, 10 years when you have your CHILDREN?!!!!<br /><div></div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-51060914525453761212007-07-30T17:05:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:59.293-08:00A trip to the V&A<div align="left">Took a trip to the V&A (Victoria and Albert Museum) recently. There was a sublime exhibition of Surreal art. Got to see the works of Salvador Dali, including his <a href="http://nga.gov.au/International/Catalogue/Images/LRG/2607.jpg">lobster telephone</a> and my favourite Renee Magritte. I saw the originals for <a href="http://www.borromaeum.at/wschin/images/magritte.jpg">this</a>, <a href="http://www.collect.co.il/objects/articles/02/0276/rene_magritte_le_modele_rouge.jpg">this </a>and <a href="http://fusionanomaly.net/renemagritteclairvoyance193.jpg">this</a>. In case you haven't realised by now, Magritte is one of my favourite painters so they nearly had to pitch me out bodily. Also acquired a new interest in the works of Leonor Fini whose pieces many times contained woman with her own strong, sensual features. I couldn't get you any photos from the Surreal Thinge exhibition itself and my camera had no juice but I got you some pics none the less from my phone. Sorry about the quality. Enjoy as much as I did. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093152984621753330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJaoSItlWc7LX2v4XMeJkW3Iz5KxZhb1_-LsKmB4alsFvKVwYUUjYHKSGuMRH_L6434PtyFH9aTV7DSxP7xPNVnrg8gVwcnhyphenhyphen7THUaOyY1-HwKnBbnBlBKErHkk55LbOLT6Ro1/s320/292.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center">Perseus kills the Minotaur. Marble, Canova.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcfIlRCM2ZBAnYv2t3n4z9DLiLIRnyURgiLndRut8S0tsff5P8El1XzHN2j2EeVH3WR6O7FWyTLdP20vRpjHlZ-fPFL-24i6apf_44c3dG4HPGeKloMkrs5-UBCFKsnquVxmS/s1600-h/290.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093152701153911778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcfIlRCM2ZBAnYv2t3n4z9DLiLIRnyURgiLndRut8S0tsff5P8El1XzHN2j2EeVH3WR6O7FWyTLdP20vRpjHlZ-fPFL-24i6apf_44c3dG4HPGeKloMkrs5-UBCFKsnquVxmS/s320/290.JPG" border="0" /></a> Poetry in death.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgSqqRW6DIQoA3sJQ_EW12dUyD3kE2Zzmw3z0aQR2s8HzsDJu6QpPSk7pteFr0BKDFu_KYIzN0a8J5kCoUThFvw1nrfCVQegLDWGdEUI3L_9T_SMYQAZ3zBimu-fhZk6eJE9J/s1600-h/271.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093152104153457618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgSqqRW6DIQoA3sJQ_EW12dUyD3kE2Zzmw3z0aQR2s8HzsDJu6QpPSk7pteFr0BKDFu_KYIzN0a8J5kCoUThFvw1nrfCVQegLDWGdEUI3L_9T_SMYQAZ3zBimu-fhZk6eJE9J/s320/271.JPG" border="0" /></a> A silver gauntlet. It's amazing how we grow up thinking how big </div><div align="center">and strong these men must have been. This is way too small for my hand.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093151099131110322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTGEi77TGj9O9FcFIUAkTcV7rqP1-P2xnhp2OWz77jcFwtTSaXVlaBJpLPXRp2EWTo9n-MHpmmjczVhiG_qQmWpO30lujdOE6tqZS47_K2JvOzf0T5A7HI5Nr6ChL82s17Xth/s320/176.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">A 19th century wedding dress. Wedding dresses weren't tradionally white until the increase in the popularity of muslin. They also would have been worn throughout the woman's lifetime on special occasions. </p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p></div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33652795.post-7859791516540489502007-07-29T14:24:00.000-07:002008-11-06T20:55:59.593-08:00Tell me it not calling you<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HWHFz_nfUjyO5gDCZifY3v0yK-bEYxXhLlN8wn_lFu_IG576_Peekn7BsMidmusq2Yqc6OPby1TZd9CgQrjb55vzMzgz72CZaosHPUufpBEMV6udJ_RTpOqMM8P3LCOuU135/s1600-h/de+stage.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092733078554125186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HWHFz_nfUjyO5gDCZifY3v0yK-bEYxXhLlN8wn_lFu_IG576_Peekn7BsMidmusq2Yqc6OPby1TZd9CgQrjb55vzMzgz72CZaosHPUufpBEMV6udJ_RTpOqMM8P3LCOuU135/s400/de+stage.jpg" border="0" /></a> Can't you feel the sun stinging your shoulders? The base rattling your chest? The shoe squeezing your foot? It has started. People, get ready.<br /><div></div>Hottie Hottiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03127198844316034575noreply@blogger.com7