nirav vs. the unbearable lightness of being

A breakdown of the popefuls

2005-04-19T18:16:00.000-07:00

A hearty congratulations to all the Catholics out there on the election of Cardinal Ratzinger as your pope. As a committed journalist, I've been saddened by the amount of secrecy surrounding this process (I mean, it's not like they have anything to hide, right?). Fortunately, I've acquired some pretty in-depth information from an insider (clue: his name is a pun for "cardinal law"). What follows is the breakdown of the final votes according to the number received.

1. Ratzinger (82 votes)

As chief theological expert, a logical choice for continuity and religious fervor. After the vote was in, Ratzinger exclaimed "Heil me!" followed by a minute of awkward silence and regret. At the papal chimney he is rumored to have taken fellow german cardinals aside and whispered, "Ahhh, white smoke. brings back the memories, doesn't it? Heil me!" "Heil you," they whispered back solemnly.

2. Arinze (21 votes)

Arinze was hurt by the Vatican's well-established aversion to hip-hop and "ethnics." After realizing that he had been roundly outvoted, Arinze blamed homosexuals for "mocking the family, and also grabbing my ass in the club last night."

3. Cardinal Bob (7 votes)

Still a fetus, the Bishop of Nebraska's age seems to have worked against him, though many within the conclave believed that his election would reinforce the church's "unassailable position on life."

4. Roberto Benigni (2 votes)

The church's head cardinal in matters of slapstick and wacky Europeanism, Benigni's candidacy fell apart after giving John Paul II a wedgy as his body sat in the papal crypt, awaiting interment. Benigni could not be talked down from the table in order to comment on the proceedings.

5. The Head Butler with the "Soft Hands" (1 vote)

As a gay man "serving the conclave," head butler Ronaldo Firenze made a profound impact on the deliberations. "He's just so fucking dreamy," said an anonymous cardinal, who added, "there are worse things than having a gay pope. Like not having anybody massage my buttocks while I lie on my bed at night." (Clue about which cardinal this was: his first name rhymes with Bernard).

6. Ralph Nader (unknown)

Though his candidacy was never considered realistic, he was able to take just enough votes from Arinze and Benigni to capture the papacy for Ratzinger.

I'm gonna be on TV !!!!

2005-04-13T22:00:00.000-07:00

Oh my God, guys, you wouldn’t believe what just happened to me! I guess good things really do happen to good people, because guess what: I’m going to be on TV!!!! It all started last week when I was sitting and eating a sandwich outside the Citicorp Building in Midtown.

Well, it was a beautiful day, with cotton candy clouds just brushing across the skyscrapers, so I took my camera out to take some pictures. The light was dancing against the glass, so before I knew it, I snapped like a whole roll. And right as I was putting the camera away, an officer of the law (and believe me, his costume looked official!) approached me and said, “Sir, can I see some identification?”

Well, I’m no stranger to reality television, and I’m certainly not interested in looking surly in front of an audience, so I took out my license and smiled for the hidden camera. I hate it when people are mean on TV! He inspected it real close, and brought one of his buddies along to take a look. A crowd even formed around me. “We’re gonna have to take you in.”

It looked like I was in for an extreme makeover! I’ve needed new pants for weeks now, and I didn’t even mind if they gayed me up a little; it’d be worth it.

“Sure thing, buddy,” I said, and winked so he knew that I was on to him. He grabbed my camera and smashed it under his boot. Looks like ol' Nirav is gonna get a free digital camera!!!Before I knew it, I was on a “plane,” hands cuffed behind my back and duct tape across my mouth taking off from the best sound stage I had ever seen. They had all the extras dress in camo! I sat in the back of this huge cargo plane all alone, and a voice came over the intercom.

“You are in the custody of the Special Rendition Squad. This is an extraordinary rendition.” Extraordinary indeed! “We’ll be touching down in Syria in fourteen hours. There you will be rended to Syrian officials.”

And another voice from the “cockpit”: “It’s ‘rendered,’ jackass. He’s not getting rended. We’re not tearing him in half.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.” Oooooh, I’m soooo scared.

I passed my time thinking of all the things I would tell my friends (especially my girlfriend) at my coming out. They would say things like, Look at Nirav! It’s like he’s a new man! And Girlfriend, you look hot!

After three or four hours all tied up, I grew a little uncomfortable. This prank was a bit too elaborate for my taste, and I couldn’t reach my crotch which had begun to itch furiously so I made a little noise to get the "pilot's" attention. Surely, the producers didn’t want me to experience any real pain. A man came in from the cockpit, and ripped the duct tape from my mouth. “What the fuck is it?”

“Can you get these cuffs off, I have an itch.” I asked real nicely since I want people to know that I'm really a good person at heart, even if I don't dress all that well.

“Where’s your itch?” Well, I wasn’t about to talk about my balls on national television so I told him it was my back. A good thing, too, because right then he smashed the butt of his “sub-machine gun” into my back and I doubled over in excruciating pain. I’m telling you, guys, this was method acting at its finest.

I fell asleep a little later, bruised and still itchy, and when I woke, there was a swarthy Arab-looking man in front of me. "This must be Syria," I presumed aloud and gave a wink to the Arab for good measure. It even smelled like another country. They were sparing no expense on good ol’ Nirav.

I looked down and—can you believe it?—saw that the makeover was just getting started! They had me stripped naked and had two “electrodes” attached to my testicles. “I should tell you, I can’t wear anything in pink,” said I. “Aside from that, you can do what you want.”

“What is these pictures you was taking?” asked the swarthy gentleman. The producers had given him a bushy mustache and a kaffiyeh and they had strapped him with an Uzi! I hate it how TV shows are always making Middle Easterners look like terrorists, and I said so to him. To be honest, his accent wasn’t even that good.

“Okay. Power on!” he shouted and right then it felt as though my testicles had been replaced with sharks that were eating my intestines from the inside. So this was going to be more like Distraction. No worries; I love that show too!

We did the “extremely painful electrocution” thing for a while, and boy was I tired when we moved to the spa portion of the makeover. First they filled the room with water up to the top and made me stand on my tiptoes to breathe, and then they put me in a tiny room that was half-filled with water and made me bend over. I almost “drowned to death” that time, but soon enough they moved me to the last room, which was the first room, except it had water on the floor and a live wire hanging above the water.

I felt just like Goldilocks! “This room is just right!” I said and smiled for the camera. Right then, the “Arab” came in and asked that same silly question again, “What is these pictures you was taking?”

“I don’t know!” said I. “Why are the walls dying?” I tried to keep my cool for the audience until then, but—and this is SOOO embarrassing—at this point I started hallucinating and seeing ghosts and monsters and spouting gibberish. Before I knew it I had passed out into the electrified tank of water! Well, guys, I don’t remember so much after that but I’m willing to bet that hilarity ensued. They flew me back at some point, and I spent a few days in a “hospital” on an “I-V” which was nice after all that electrocution, and I even signed a waiver to not sue the “government.” That’s how I knew for sure it was a TV show. TV shows are always trying to get you to sign waivers.

Well, they didn’t tell me what time the show would be on, but keep your eyes open. And next time you see me, be sure to tell me how good I look. I haven’t been able to have an erection in three days and I have these weird bruises everywhere, but aside from that I feel like a new man! That Ashton Kutcher is incorrigible!!!

RIP Mitch Hedberg

2005-04-05T19:35:00.000-07:00

Hey baby,

I haven't written in a while, and for that I'm sorry. No, I haven't been drinking too much. Yes, I'm working hard. Of course I still love you. What do you mean if I loved you I would have written more? Don't take that tone with me. I'll write when I damn well please. I swear to God woman, sometimes I feel like you're smothering me. Look, I'll write more. I didn't mean to say those things. Don't cry. Put your hair curlers down. You trying to kill me, woman? I promise I will, I'll write all the time. No, not every day! What the fuck do you think I am, a machine? Once a month. That's not bad right? Once a month. Awww baby, come back here. Once a week. And I won't post on any of those other blogs either. For real. Now let me tell you about something.

Mitch Hedberg died this week. He was my favorite comedian. I saw him in NY last year, and he was the only performer I've ever seen that I wanted to hug when the show was over (if the ewoks in Battle for Endor don't count)

Here's a sampling:

-If carrots got you drunk, rabbits would be fucked up.

-I bought a doughnut and they gave me a receipt for the doughnut. I don't need a receipt for the doughnut - I'll just give you money and you give me the doughnut. End of transaction. We don't need to bring ink and paper into this. I can't imagine a scenario in which I would need to prove that I bought a doughnut. Some skeptical friend... don’t even act like I didn't buy a doughnut, I've got the documentation right here. Oh wait, it's back home in the file... under "D", for doughnut.

-My roommate says, "I need to shave and use the shower. Does anyone need to use the bathroom?" It's like some weird-ass quiz where he reveals the answer first...

-If you had a friend who was a tightrope walker, and you were walking down a sidewalk, and he fell, that would be completely unacceptable.

-I like to play blackjack. I'm not addicted to gambling, I'm addicted to sitting in a semi-circle.

-When you go to a restaurant on the weekends and it's busy they start a waiting list. They start calling out names, they say "Dufresne, party of two. Dufresne, party of two." And if no one answers they'll say their name again. "Dufresne, party of two, Dufresne, party of two." But then if no one answers they'll just go right on to the next name. "Bush, party of three." Yeah, but what happened to the Dufresnes? No one seems to give a shit. Who can eat at a time like this - people are missing. You fuckers are selfish... the Dufresnes are in someone's trunk right now, with duct tape over their mouths. And they're hungry! That's a double whammy. We need help. Bush, search party of three! You can eat when you find the Dufresnes.

More here.

A boyish boast

2005-01-23T14:00:00.000-08:00

This last snowfall proves that--like a chubby stripper--New York looks better with a little bit of cover. The city is blanketed with snow and Harlem Meer, the pond outside my window, has disappeared under it. There are kids dragging sleds and pelting each other with snowballs. The ghetto wardrobe does not befit the weather, and many spend absurd amounts of time removing snow from inside their sagging pants. All in all, life is good.

This time of year always makes me think of my favorite poem, First Snow in Alsace, by Richard Wilbur, and I commend it to you. It seems even more apt in a time of war:

The snow came down like moths
Burned on the moon; it fell till dawn,
Covered the town in simple cloths.

Absolute snow lies rumpled on
What shellbursts scattered and deranged,
Entangled railings, crevassed lawn.

As if it did not know they'd changed,
Snow smoothly clasps the roofs of homes
Fear-gutted, trustless and estranged.

The ration stacks are milky domes;
Across the ammunition pile
The snow has climbed in sparkling combs.

You think: beyond the town a mile
Or two, this snowfall fills the eyes
Of soldiers dead a while.

Persons and persons in disguise,
Walking the new air white and fine,
Trade glances quick with shared surprise.

At children's windows, heaped, benign,
As always, winter shines the most,
And frost makes marvelous designs.

The night guard coming from his post,
Ten first snows back in thought, walks slow
And warms him with a boyish boast:

He was the first to see the snow.

Welcome, bitches.

2005-01-21T20:09:00.000-08:00

My name is Nirav and this is my blog. There are those of you who have been awaiting its arrival with bated breath; to you, I can only apologize and hope that it meets your expectations. If you know me those expectations are surely high, as I am a reliable source of wit and witticisms, and also of redundancy.

The delay in the arrival of my blog rests on basic ontological questions: what will it be, and more importantly, what will it be for? I considered devoting an entire site to feces, and calling it the great, floating web log (get it?), or uploading my novel in installments (bad idea, after all), but decided instead on something a little more improvisational.

The site will not be journalistic, because I'm always the last to know about stuff. Like yesterday when my monthly metrocard ran out and I continued trying to swipe it, while four people literally humped forward behind me in the narrow subway till, hoping against physics to catch the already passed 6 train. As my fifth grade science teacher would say, there was a lot of effort in that humping, but not a lot of work.

Here are some things about me: I am taking a year off from law school to write a novel (if you have a title that you always thought would be cool for a book, I would love to steal it from you), I am working at Starbucks and Kaplan, so I am a model corporate citizen, I have a little lady named Elaine, and I like cottage cheese (literally, not figuratively).

Things I will talk about: politics; literature; people I know that you should know; people I know that you should avoid at all costs; Gujarat; New England sports; and cottage cheese (both literally and figuratively).

That is all for now.