Deodorant
The Americans I live with got me Old Spice, for showers here are rendered useless within five minutes of walking through the streets of Kolkata. Old Spice is a time-tested product that has been eclipsed by newer sprays that promise impassioned encounters with strangers. So, I'm happy to go with the Old Spice. However, with the above advertising, I suspect that Old Spice decided that instead of simply replacing the geriatric connotations with sex, they could just combine the two. This advertising stunt of being self-deprecating is a bit like how Radio Shack had a Super Bowl commercial with the Muppets so as to display a good self-deprecating admission of antiquated products. This way they could have a good [forced] laugh with their customers and move on in their sales (or sink into bankruptcy, like Radio Shack did.) So also, [...]
Sr. Nirmala, Missionary of Charity
Sr. Nirmala Joshi MC is found to the left in the picture above. It's taken on 14 March 1997, the day that Mother Teresa and a closed-door vote of about 100 sisters made Sr. Nirmala the Superior General of the 5,000 Missionaries of Charity world-wide. CNN took notice in this article because a Hindu-convert to Catholicism took over the most rapidly-expanding religious order of the 20th century. (Up to that point, her CV was already impressive, as Mother Teresa’s co-founder of the MCs and the foundress of the Contemplative Branch of the Missionaries of Charity in 1976.) Now Sr. Nirmala is 81 years old. She had a heart attack about a month ago. Because she is a veritable celebrity in India, they had to make her hospital stay a very short one. A couple of days ago, I was surprised [...]
Asian Earthquakes
We felt the tremors of both earthquakes this past weekend. I spoke to one minor causality here in Kolkata, but there are thousands of people dead to the north of us. Please pray for the deceased: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-32475030
The dangers of nighttime taxis
Last night, at 10pm, I took a taxi from a restaurant here in India to the priest home near Bl. Mother Teresa's "Motherhouse." As the taxi started, a dwarf jumped in my taxi, unannounced and uninvited. He said to me "Hello, boss!" from his side in the back where we both were. He immediately rolled his window and popped his head out as we barreled through traffic. He began yelling at the extremely crowded Kolkata streets in Bengali, assumedly to get out of the way. With his head out, standing up, he looked like an American cowboy hooting and hollering, stomping his feet in delight against the floor of the taxi. The driver (at his chin) seemed rather to enjoy the raucous. I did too, though I sadly wondered why I couldn't live the quiet life of a parish priest for even one [...]