All posts by James

About James

James Seidler is a writer living in Chicago. The editor for the now-defunct humor publication FLYMF, he has now decided to maintain his web presence and smart remarks through this blog.

Ha Ha, Charade You Are!

Chris Colin has a damning article at SFGate.com documenting the workplace harassment faced by Kurdish-American mechanic Hamid Sayadi after September 11th. Sayadi, who was granted amnesty in the United States in 1977 after fleeing Iraq, alleges he was called a terrorist, had his tires slashed and had his lunch box inspected by his superior (for fear of a bomb being inside); he’d worked for his employer, New United Motor Manufacturing Inc., since 1990. The last straw? Being strip-searched by security when he attended a company-sponsored “Mission Accomplished” party after the 2003 invasion of Iraq.

I doubt this is an isolated incident; I can’t imagine the barrage of hostility people of Middle Eastern descent have had to endure over the past six years. Of course, American ignorance isn’t a finely wielded tool–my best friend, who is of Indian descent, has been called “a Palestinian terrorist” and “Osama Bin Laden” by thoughtless pigs on the street. If this is the new America we’ve chosen, let me offer a thought for our updated national anthem: a series of oinks and squeals.

It’s Not Fundamentals

Chuck Klosterman has a perceptive article on ESPN.com about the “problems” facing the NBA. He argues that the NBA’s continual state of crisis doesn’t result from player misconduct or racism on the part of fans. After all, he says, the NFL is subject to these same factors, but its popularity has surged over the past decade.

Instead, Klosterman claims that the unpopularity of the NBA stems from three issues inherent to the game. First is the reality that “some games are going to be boring.” Second is the fact that “We are an unshared society” (i.e. the racial, economic and talent gap between players and fans makes them utterly unable to relate to one another). Third is the idea that “potentiality destroys happiness” (i.e. the balletic potential of the game is undermined by bricked shots and long slogs in the low post).

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To Ogle an Ogre

I recently stumbled across a free pile of paperbacks from Piers Anthony’s Xanth series. Being the optimist that I am (“Sure, I have space for fourteen books as well as time to read them”), I gathered them in my arms and took them home with me. I’d read most of them before, when I was in middle school, and I had fond, if hokey, memories.

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