I decided, since my schedule was not packed to the max as it already was, to sign for a night course of Hindi. This is so I can finally understand what my girlfriend's parents are saying. As Jason suggested to me, I will not let on that I know what they are saying, and discover their true opinion about me.
Class starts, and it's packed. A quick scan of the room automatically reveals the type of people they are. I don't mean that I can determine what kind of person they are just by looking at them, but it's that first impression thing. Some, I want to kill already.
We are given a sheet with the Hindi alphabet. To get an idea of this, grab pen and paper, and make various scribbles. Each scribble should look identical to the others, except for some minor, hard to distinguish detail in some part. Give them all a pronunciation where all the letters sound in all the various ranges of "Duh!" you can think of.
Now memorize this.
The beauty of people that take night courses is that they are there because they want to be there. It's not like school were you and a bunch of poor bastards are stuck in Basket Weaving, just because the Province of Ontario has determined that if you are taking a computer course, Basket Weaving 101 is a requirement.
No, this people are here because they want to be here, and they will go ape-shit if even the tiniest most insignificant thing doesn't satisfy. Take for example Anjit, sitting over there. He claims, first thing as soon a he enters the class, that he can clearly speak Hindi better than he can dress. So why are you here? I guess to make a fool of yourself when it comes to reading some simple gibberish written on the board.
And let's not forget Tim. Yes, that's nice Tim, you went to India already, and so you can say a total of five words that are completely irrelevant and useless if you found yourself stranded in the middle of India after being gang-raped by a bunch of monkeys. There is no need for you to pull out your gigantic schlong and shove it in the teacher's face just because you can say "Hello". I can say "Fuck off", but notice my self control, despite my wish to tell you.
Christine, just because you are not getting any, you don't have to let your bitterness prevail over the fact of how the letter W sounds when compared to the letter V.
And so on.
Kalman M. Nanes writes to "Dear Alex":
Guyz- This was the funniest damn thing I've read in a loooooong time... good to know somebody else has read that book. Keep up the great work!
Jason went through the actual book to write that article, without resorting, as Jeff later pointed out, that there is a program that does the translation for you as well. If you care to download the program, it's here: http://www.capnasty.org/nadsat.zip
IGNORE the HYPE makes our anuses tighten (and especially Tessa's husband):
Enjoyed the issue. Jason's guest editorial was good. Here's a true custom from Native American Indians that my wife read to me from one of her Women's Studies books: when a Native American woman was in labour she would lie under a platform that the father-to-be stood on. He had a rope tied around his testicles and his wife held the end of the rope. Whenever she had a contraction she would pull down on the rope so her husband could experience the pain with her. No, my wife and I did not follow this practice. And yes, that story made my anus tighten.
Melissa De Wilde:
doesn't bi-weekly mean twice a week?
No. And in our case, it doesn't even mean twice a month.
Enjoy this issue.
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