Monday, April 19, 2010

Not really "funny" funny.

Have to share something with you. Has almost nothing but everything to do with this cookbook "faux pas" that calls for "freshly ground black people," which is OF COURSE a typo and is supposed to say, "freshly ground black pepper." Duh!

The other night while I was at Qatar Airways office in the Bahrain International Airport office groaning about getting reimbursed for a taxi cab because Qatar didn't put MY luggage on the plane with me, the ONE man who was even willing to be helpful, Khalid, said to me, "Did you speak with a white man downstairs [in baggage services] earlier?" I said, "No. I spoke to an Arab man downstairs ten minutes ago when I was there..." Khalid says to me, in all seriousness, "How do I say this?" Communication between us is starting to be an issue. Me because I speak English and Khalid because he is trying so hard to speak English [and he did very well, by the way!]. So, Khalid, again, says, "Was he a white man?" And I honestly responded, "No. He wasn't." Khalid, not to miss a beat says, "I am a white man. Was he the same color I am?"

Don't I feel confused!?! Ahh, Khalid. Pssst. Let me fill you in on a teeny tiny little secret. "I am white. This is what a white person looks like." At the same time I am saying that, I am pulling up the sleeves of my shirt to show him my "white" skin. Khalid responded, "Ahh, yes, Madam. Here, we are white." "Umm, no, Khalid. You are brown. Perhaps dark tan. But you are not white." I had to reply. "I spoke to Ahmed. He is an Arab man. He was not white." Ahh. Now we're on the same track, though. Arabs consider themselves to be white? Who knew?! [If you are an Arab living in the United States, how did you fill out the census question for your nationality? White? Seriously?!!]

Why do I think it is funny that a recipe calls for salt and fresh ground black pepper people? Oh, I dunno no. It really isn't "funny" funny, but come on. I, mean, after all, not only am I not going to find that particular ingredient here in The Sandbox, but where the hell am I going to find prosciutto?

Yeah. 'Ya have to admit. It is a little funny at someone else's expense. Hey, if you can't laugh at a typo that is CLEARLY a mistake... I mean, come on. It was, after all, a mistake made in Australia, not South Africa!

Never mind. I am jet lagged. I am in limbo. I can think something that isn't really funny is funny if I want to.


  1. What surprises me is that an Australian publisher feels that the proper response to the public outcry over this obvious typo is to destroy the entire print run. Meanwhile, where you live, Arab newspapers, publishers, editorialists, journalists, and authors print the Blood Libel claim (and worse!) against the Joos on a near-daily basis with no sense of shame, at all.

    That's one of the more important distinctions between a civilized people and a pack of inbred, camel-shtupping retards, I guess.

    And no, you aren't White, Khlaid. If you doubt me, you're welcome to attend any convenient Klan meeting and ask the fellas you find there what their opinions on the subject are.

    I'm certain the debate would be an interesting,

  2. He meant a man in a white dishdash. A white man.

    And if he didnt, perhaps he considers himself an Arab that is not from Africa.

  3. I heard this on Fox. Just goes to prove no matter how good proof readers are, things slip by them.

    Right Truth

  4. fred_says - No. He meant white skin. The two of us, Khalid and I, were confused for a minute or two. No one working at Bahrain International Airport in Baggage Services would wear a dishdash. Thobe, maybe, but not a dishdash.

    Debbie - I bet proof reading cookbooks is only the next best thing to watching a golf tournament or watching paint dry. Me? I'll take watching paint dry, please, Alex.

  5. I actually once knew a proofreader, the sister of a woman I used to date. She was also the only person I had ever met who had written indices (the index at the end of a book). And not to belabor the point, she was also the only person I had ever met (and perhaps ever will) who had a PhD in *Semantics* -- from Brown University, no less. Where she had managed a full, 4-year scholarship.

    I don't believe I have ever been associated with a more shallow, colorless, humorless, uninteresting, condescending, menstrual, cheerless,more pantybunched woman in all of my life.

    Except perhaps her Canadian husband -- He was walking proof that the old adage "a wedding is a ceremony in which a ring is placed upon a lady's finger...and through a gentlemen's nose." is, indeed, often true.

    They were the typical New York City Liberals (despite the fact that he was a Canuck and she hailed from Rochester upstate, but they did their level-best to confrom to the requirements of that little club, mouthing the appropriate slogans, reading the appropriate magazines, and such. They lived almost entirely at State expense; because once She had given up her Vice Presidency at a Major Advertising Agency to Marry The Canadian who was Studying American History (I still laugh whenever I recall listening to a spoiled, rich Canadian talk about the evils of American Racism, and the Black Man's Struggle!), they managed to live quite well on government grants, fellowships, student allotments and other monies reserved for those in academia.

    They became Professional Students, and lived happily ever after, eschewing actual work for the continued illusion of erudition and education.

    So, I guess, in the end, She had no common sense, either for she gave up a six-figure slaray at a time when that actually meant something. I know he didn't have any, because He married her, after all.

    Sorry, I was skipping through Memory Lane...


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