THE TISSUE OF LIES UNRAVELS, PART ONE

My family is from Bangladesh, not India. My father, however, was born in ’39, so he was an Indian in a manner of speaking. And besides, I dig a good rogan josh at least as much as Siddharth, so I figure that, if not my undying love for Panjabi MC and Nehru jackets, makes me an honorary member of the Indian “diaspora” (to use a problematic and widely misused term). Bangladesh has been in the news, in a very heartrending way. I’m reminded of this debate I had in the backseat of a car with this punk kid I barely knew: does the fact that my family is from Bangladesh make for a strong moral-ethical obligation to that country? I argued, as a good cosmopolitan, that it does not: that I had an obligation to the very poor and others in dire need of assistance around the globe, but not to a particular foreign country on grounds of ethnic affiliation. That still strikes me as sound, but the upshot is the same: Bangladesh is a country in dire straits, and it needs my help: I wish I could do something, and I imagine (or hope) that at least a few other middle class Americans feel the same way. I should say that my cosmopolitanism is (I like to think) a serious normative commitment, but it doesn’t run that deep. I’ve always identified very strongly as an American. While I don’t consider myself a national chauvinist (I wouldn’t, for example, pee on someone for being Canadian, let alone set them ablaze, though I might be sorely tempted), I love my native country for fairly old-school nationalist reasons—i.e., not for the Constitution, which is perfectly adequate, but for its language, culture, and a sense that I’m entangled in its troubled-yet-inspiring history. Which is why I think “Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle” rules so hard. I’ve already seen it three times, and I imagine I’ll see it again very soon. Go watch it. Seriously, it rules. P.S.- So Drezner hooked me on the "Garden State" teaser trailer, right? And I was like, "Whoa, this song is sick" (in a good way). Foolishly, I purchased the Frou Frou album in question. That the band was named "Frou Frou" should've been the hint that it was not for me: I am a sworn, indefatigable opponent of all that is "Frou Frou." I bought it regardless. Dang. Don't make the same mistake. Instead, check out The Killers. I had been listening exclusively to the brilliant "Mr. Brightside," but the balance of the album is similarly dope. I've also been listening to Ocean Rain lately. Definitely worth a listen. And as for the movie, well, Natalie Portman delivers in a major way (as she almost always does, and I'm not saying this, contrary to popular belief, because she is, as they say, "smokin'"), but Zach Braff needs a smack. A gentle smack. I mean, I fundamentally like the guy.