How do you say "Showtime Lakers" in Hindi?

The only time I've really gotten into basketball the past few years is during playoff seasons...the rest of the time, I generally check up on box scores a few times a month, tops, and otherwise ignore my once beloved NBA. But there's something about graduating college and moving to a foreign land that has left me searching for outlets of Americanism. Thus, I think it's fate that the Lakers -- a team I was once so obsessed with that I baked Kobe Bryant a birthday cake -- have made a few key off-season moves and are suddenly the most badazz team in the League. 

Most badazz...and classiest!

I was raving about the Dwight Howard pick-up this morning to my roommates, before stopping mid-sentence: "You guys don't watch basketball, do you?" Guess it's ironic that my sudden rejuvenation of basketball fan-dom intersects the exact moment I decide to move to a country where the weird kids watch basketball and the cool kids play cricket. Whatev. 

The plan at this point is to turn one of my roommates into a Celtics fan, then slowly degrade his ego at the season goes on. Will keep you all updated on this pet project.

Such a Beautiful Creature, the Feral Dog...

No matter how many times the travel nurses told me to "expect wild animals," I still wasn't fully prepared for the packs on packs on packs of stray dogs roaming the Mumbai streets. I have had a few dubious experiences with dogs, so I'm generally weary of any pup without a leash. However, my roommates were quick to dissuade my worries, noting "They never do anything. Just don't pet them..."

Indeed, the dozen or so doggies I pass on a given street block here all seem focused on finding the next heap of trash to procure their daily 'noms, and pay little attention to the general insanity of India day-to-day traffic and street life. I eventually grew accustomed to the constant canine presence -- until now.

The New York Times ran an article today on India's street dogs, and once again, I am given reason to never ever trust my roommate's advice on anything ever. According to The Times, 80,000 people were bitten in Mumbai alone last year...and 20,000 people die every year in India from rabies infections, the vast majority of which are dog-inflicted. 

I had thought rabies was a 28 Days Later sort of deal, where those bitten run around biting other people until you stick them with the antidote...a quick Google search proved me wrong, as well as leading me to more then a few grim lil' Web MDs who classify rabies as "inevitably fatal." Well then.

Oh yeah, and these ain't wild pugs roaming the streets...these are "Indian pariah dogs," which The Times describes as "similar in appearance to other prehistoric dogs like the Australian dingo." 

Now granted, 80,000 bites in one year means that about 0.6% of the Mumbai population gets bitten. And maybe the government's most recent plan to spray the dogs with ink to take poll of their ranks will help the situation...or it could just result in a bunch of ink-covered, pissed-off dogs. That Indian government is a wonder, isn't it?

If only this is what we were dealing with here...

Christopher Hitchens: Destroying Indian Bloggers from Beyond the Grave

I always gag a bit whenever I read some fawning New York Times elegy on a  literary figure they deem to be "indispensable"...like their recent obituary on Gore Vidal. Unfortunate, because I'm sure I'd love Mr. Vidal's work as countless other have, but I always feel like with each successive death of a "last of a breed," as the Grey Lady termed Vidal, the grizzled Times' newsmen are really lamenting the death of their industry.

Despite my aversion to self-serious, self-destructive essayists, I still surprised myself by how long I held out on reading any Christopher Hitchens. Must've been a particularly lachrymose Times' obituary, that one. Regardless, I was happy to find a 1997 Vanity Fair essay of his, "There'll Always Be an India," which comments on pretty much everything, say, a blog on India could cover...only in essay form!

Among other epic declarations in the piece, Hitchens notes: "Land of Contrasts. I challenge you to show me the Indian guidebook or travel piece that does not resort to this dismal cliche."

Well...uhhh...there goes the subject of my next post...

Ooohhh you're just so erudite and witty, aren't you...

Hitchens also explains why Coca-Cola's relationship with India is even more complicated then I thought -- turns out the Indian government demanded the secret Coke formula in the late 1970s. Coca-Cola "denounced India as a basket case" and stopped doing business in the country until the 1990s.

I highly suggest reading this piece, for more then just the pithy asides -- he packs in a lot of info, and a lot of reporting. Not bad for a guy who was probably wasted when he wrote it. 

Don't Hurt 'Em, ScHoolboy Q

A while back I labeled The Buff Nerds crew as possibly the hippest up-and-comers out of the West Coast. I stand by my original sentiment, but if/when the 'Nerds blow up, they're going to have to compete with the Black Hippies out of Los Angeles...undeniably the reigning Kings of the West, and still on the come-up themselves.Case in point: ScHoolboy Q's new video, which is the chillest thing I've seen or heard all summer.

Besides his sick music, another reason I love Q is his use of the "capital H" aesthetic. I don't know when rappers started to love capitalizing -- or not capitalizing -- certain letters in their names as part of their swag, but I think Kid Cudi -- or KiD CuDi -- is a big reason behind it. Now we've got RiFF RaFF with all lowercase vowels in his name and music video titles, as well as ScHoolboy with his "H's." I've been thinking of changing my electronic signature to b.dOylE...thoughts?

Back off, Carina Chocano!

About a week ago, Carina Chocano -- a "self-employed" sort of "freelance writer," if her LinkedIn is to be believed -- wrote a tad-too-touchy piece in the New York Times about Pinterest, Tumblr, and general user-generated content aggregation websites. Only she calls these websites "longing machines," and concludes with an ever-so-melancholy note that the sites define "the life we think we were meant to have but don’t, the people we think we should be but aren’t."

By extension of Chocano's theory, my time spent curating on "The Fancy" is a fruitless pathological pursuit to fool myself into thinking I'm a man of "taste" and "style."

Pshawww...act like you have this kind of taste, Carina.

Personally, I think Carina's essay is about as valid as any journalist cum philosopher can churn out when applying analytical skills learned in their college comparative literature classes to modern technology. RE: It's all wish-wash. Because you're right, Ms. Carina: "People don’t post stuff because they wish they owned it, but because they think they are it, and they long to be understood..." Sounds kind of like the supposedly intellectually untouchable Jonathan Franzen telling the Kenyon College Class of 2011 that the "telos of techne is to replace a natural world that’s indifferent to our wishes ... with a world so responsive to our wishes as to be, effectively, a mere extension of the self." Thanks for the advice, J. Franz! I'll be sure to avoid modern technology from now on!

Sure, people use online profiles -- even Pinterest portfolios consisting entirely of images -- to define how they want to be viewed by the world. But I think anyone who has ever viewed a Facebook profile filled with "deep" quotations and ostentatiously heart-felt status updates can see that these profiles act as more then just, y'know, profiles -- their an outlet for self-expression, self-realization and social understanding. So Ms. Chocano, I'm here to tell you: your behind the times, but not in your use of technology. Your antiquated in your realization that technology is deeply entwined with people's emotions and understanding of themselves. Heck, David Foster Wallace hit on the soul-churning isolating effect of technology in his 2005 Kenyon Commencement address. (On another note: those Kenyon College grads must really be a happy bunch...)

Basically, I find these overly-intellectual technology pieces at once embarrassing (for the writer) and confusing. What exactly does Carina want me to do, once I acknowledge that my "Fancy" portfolio is a web of self-deceit? Stop looking at "Vans California Era Washed Paisley" and "Cheesecake-stuffed strawberries?" Cuz if that's what you think I'll do, Ms. Chocano, then you don't know B.Doyle...

Damn those are sexy...

Monsoon Season!

The first time I heard the term "monsoon" was in the 1996 movie "Jumanji." Since then, I have associated monsoons with Robin Williams fighting crocodiles.

So when I learned that Mumbai was host to a four-month long monsoon season every year, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Would my flat be flooded frequently? Would I have to swim to work? Should I pack my heavy-duty crocodile-killin' machete just in case?

As it turns out, flats do get flooded frequently, and yes, getting to work may be impossible once in a while unless I have a canoe. So far the crocodiles don't seem likely, although giant rats are a common sight. Incidentally, however, Mumbai is experiencing a relatively dry monsoon season so far. I couldn't be happier to only have to face two or three short bursts of rain a day, but according to the Wall Street Journal, this is a problem for North Indian farmers who rely on the monsoon rains to help produce crop yields.

If I travel to North India (hopefully soon) then I may be able to get a better appreciation of the largely agricultural-dependent economies of that region. However, right now, it's hard not to be happy that I arrived here conveniently in one of the driest monsoon seasons in years.

Here's to dry monsoon seasons and no crocodiles!

Above: Me, in my living room last week. #mylifeisJumanji

Amurica! F*** Yeah!

Happy Independence Day, everyone! People at work today were giving me handshakes and backslaps in respect to the good ol' US of A. Even my comrades from Eastern Europe granted me the indulgence of slamming the table and shouting "America!" at lunch.  I also made a fool of myself when a Slovenian girl offered me cake, and I knowingly chuckled "Aaah, for Independence Day?" It was actually for her birthday.

But dammit, I won't apologize for my patriotism! Everyone shoot off some fireworks for me!

Lana Del Rey Wins the Internet

Are you f***ing kidding me? A$AP Rocky as JFK?

The fact that these two young trendsetters wanted to work together is awesome enough, but even more heartening is that there is clearly something clicking here artistically. We all got a taste of it with this KickDrums-produced preview -- a song that neither camp has released in full -- but with this next-level music video, we see that Lana and A$AP together are greater then the sum of their parts.

Enjoy.

Lana Del Rey: Back to the Future

I generally don't consider myself to have worthwhile taste when it comes to slow-moving, epic-voiced female singers. My particular preferences seem to cultivate artists leaning towards the spectrum of "potentially insane ironic rhymespitters."

But recently, when the sun gets low and I start to think of the teenage years I never had (in 1950's Southern California, that is), nothing spaces me out better then some Lana Del Rey. Her whole style is like if the world's most hipster Tumblr account had a baby with Lady Gaga....so basically, I'm saying Lana's half-cyborg. YEA, she's that good.

Lana is to musical innovation what Steve Jobs was to technological innovation. Pure simplicity mixed with pure vision.

Enjoy. 

Suggest Unto Me Your Biographies

This blog just passed the venerable 50+ views mark. I'm going to ball-park that only 25 of those were me, so either my half-assed attempts at SEO maximization are working and forcing people to stumble upon "Of Bombay and B.Doyle," or there is a burgeoning market for content with regards to media critiques and avant garde gangsta hip-hop. 

So, let's interact: I need biographies to read. As previously mentioned, I just finished Neil Gabler's Walt Disney biography, and am currently in the midst of Walter Isaacson's Steve Jobs biography. Shoot me a suggestion of a biography about an epic personality or epoch-defining businessman, and I'll friend you on Facebook! Oh, the private pictures of mine you could view.

But seriously, biography suggestions. I wants them. Now. This Mumbai heat makes "epic" books the only kind worth sitting down and reading.

Above: Mickey Mouse, the product of a tortured, perfectionist soul, according to Neil Gabler.

Am I Fancy?

My trusted friends at Complex recently introduced me to The Fancy...a sight that allows users to sift through a (seemingly) endless catalogue of tastefully exotic getaways, high-fashion shirts and ties, subtly ironic t-shirts (which are also ironically expensive), sexy-as-hell cars, and minimalist, functional gadgets. Basically, it's like Kanye West's wet dream (literally...he helped popularize it). Like Pinterest, but for the hipster crowd.

My biggest complaint so far is the uninspired "Your catalog" function that lets you look at everything you've "fancied." It's basically a list format...shouldn't there be some tool to make a fascinating hipster collage of everything sartorial and artistic that a user fancies? This aside, I spent a not-insignificant amount of time this morning "fancying" items, and balking at various price tags (the site gives you links to buy most items as well).  Window shopping for beach houses and desert boots at the same damn time? What an age we live in!