Saturday, November 21, 2009

Cakebeard: The Miniseries *Disclaimer*

*By way of introduction to today's installment, I feel that it is only fair to post my husband's thoughts on "Cakebeard: The Miniseries." He remarked that, whilst he did find the piece to be well-written, he was somewhat put off by what he felt was my uncharacteristically "mean" tone. He raised the issue that the woman involved was/is a real person, and that as someone who endeavors to practice compassion as much as possible I would be extremely unlikely, in his opinion, to adopt such a mocking tone regarding someone I knew and/or to someone's own face. (I must admit that I was more than a touch flattered by this characterization, not to mention he was/is entirely correct re: my dislike of speaking unkindly to or about people.)
However...after doing even more Google digging on the subject of the Cake-Bride, (as opposed to her doppelganger, the Bride-Cake) I have assuaged both my growing feelings of unease over any possible unintended cruelty, as well as reinforced my understanding that I was not, in effect, ridiculing an unfamiliar cultural convention without proper context.
I was initially intrigued by several references (by commentators on various news reports of this story) to "effigies" and "human effigies" playing a major part in several West African traditions. Nonetheless, I was unable to discern any traditions specific to Nigeria or even West Africa as a whole, which might be interpretable as life-size wedding cake auto-effigies. Indeed, the "effigies" referred to would seem to be specifically related to funerary and/or Animist rituals, and as such are generally attributed great spiritual significance. Keeping in mind that West African religion is the basis for much of modern Vodou, one can scarcely imagine that objects of reverence as Vodun/Vodou fetishes would be subjected to being publicly sliced up and eaten. Additionally, the practice of Vodun itself appears to only extend as far east as Benin, and not to be a mainline practice in Nigeria itself. There also appears to be no historical tradition in Nigeria of even consuming Western-style wedding cake; several sites mention cola, beef, yams and palm wine as traditional wedding delicacies. Western-style weddings do appear to be becoming the norm in Nigeria, due to increasing incursion by Christian Missionaries, but this appears to be fairly recent, and in many rural areas traditional/polygamous marriages remain the norm.
I was particularly struck by what seemed to me a distinctly patronizing and paternalistic tone present in many comments and blog posts pertaining to the Cake-Bride. A surprising number of people mentioned ostensibly (and dubiously) similar Ghanaian practices; essentially the equivalent of attempting to explain Canada's fondness for Curling by citing the Central American obsession with soccer. (Ghana and Nigeria are separated by several other independent postcolonial nations, each with its own unique language/s, tribal cultures and traditions.) There also appeared to be a trend to write off the C/B display as merely a quaint foreign custom, and as such one which should be above reproach and/or criticism by Westerners. Several went so far as to accuse others of "racism" for finding humor in the story. To my mind, the above commenters, whilst undoubtedly sincere- even laudable- in their desire to convey respect for cultural diversity, fall into common trap; they attribute personal quirks (both good and bad) to cultural misunderstanding...in the process stripping the human in question of their individuality. (The above thinking is also used, though with perhaps less sincere motives, by individuals attempting to excuse their own less appealing qualities. I once worked with a woman who constantly attempted to excuse/explain her constant rudeness to customers with the refrain, "I'm Boricua!" as though that somehow negated the need to not sneer and roll her eyes at paying customers...)
Last of all, I discovered during my perusal of several online articles (published by major news syndicates) that the coverage of the wedding was no matter of happenstance occasioned by a slow news day or a coincidentally related mass-media event. The woman in question appears to have assembled and distributed press packs to at least 2 media outlets, and perhaps more. As in the case of the Duggar adults, (of whom I have previously written) I hold myself here to a general standard when discussing/satirizing media figures: does or should the individual/s involved have a reasonable expectation of privacy and inferred respect? My best means of determining this is largely based on the behavior of the individual when dealing with the media, specifically whether they deliberately sought to make themselves into media figures, and whether their media seeking is/was driven by events in their own control, e.g. Sarah Palin vs. Mark Klaas: Mrs. Palin has actively sought public recognition and aggrandizement, and has made a large number of specific comments regarding her views on government spending, family and morality. Therefore, it is in my opinion unreasonable for her to claim that her privacy and reputation are infringed upon by the publication of unpleasant and unflattering truths involving the aforementioned subjects. Mark Klass, conversely, has been accused by "rival" anti-crime activists of using his daughter's horrific abduction and murder as a means to gain media prominence and donations for his KlaasKids nonprofit foundation. While I do not disagree that Mr. Klaas does often interject himself in media coverage of missing/murdered children, all evidence points to his simply taking such opportunities not for personal gain, but to increase awareness of his foundation's work to protect children on a national scale. Therefore, I would not consider it appropriate for me to investigate and expose Mr. Klaas' personal, possibly unflattering quirks for the purpose of satire; I have NO doubt that, had he the choice, he would gladly forgo any wisp of fame if he could have his daughter back unharmed.
My synthesis, then, is this: until/unless I discover and/or am presented with further clarifying information, I will consider the subject of the Cake-Bride open to light satire, and wish to also make clear that "Cakebeard" is a fictional satire, and I in no way am presuming to accurately re/present the genuine individual who inspired the narrative. My intention was, and remains, only to light-heartedly caricature a particularly fetching facet of this wonderful, crazy, silly, confusing and delightfully prismatic mosaic of this American media we so dearly love to love...

In Summation:

Friday, November 20, 2009

Anything Beats "Sherri," Right? So Get Ready For Anything!

So, whilst doing my usual daily trolling (err...better make that "trawling") of the intertubes today, (as The Child took yet another 8+ hour nap beside me, exhaling a steady, snorey cloud of narsty-smelling sick breath...) I came across this. Now, as the fiercely patriotic granddaughter of proud immigrants, I enjoy reveling in this seething smelting-crucible of weirdness we call America as much as anyone. In fact, make that way more than anyone; I have either a very high or very low tolerance for weirdness, depending on how one looks at it. In any case, I'm a devoted peon of the weird, the bizarre and the macabre, and an unashamed one at that. But seriously- seriously- folks, the video above gave even me pause. Also, indigestion-by-proxy, which I didn't even know was possible. Seriously!!
Okay. So, in her interview, the bride (who, btw, quite disturbingly does not look nearly insane enough for my taste...I want to be able to spot someone like this coming from at least 3 blocks away.) becomes quite visibly and audibly choked up with emotion as she describes her "childhood dream" to be, um, rendered life-sized in cake and carved up in effigy by...herself!? She then manages to slip in the mysterious comment that, while the aforementioned auto-effigy consumption fantasy was indeed the fulfillment of a lifelong ambition, she "didn't get it all." Okay. so: "didn't get it all." Wait. What!? "DIDN'T GET IT ALL!?!?" WTF could possibly have been another component of her wedding fantasy so important that is bears mentioning in a TV interview about your INSANE EFFING GIANT CAKE MONUMENT!?! Now, I had noticed that the story mentions that this rather, erm, shall we say "unique" fantasy had its genesis in her Nigerian childhood. Thus, in the interest of fairness, I did some brief google-assisted research into Nigerian wedding traditions. As it turns out, Nigeria does in fact have some unique wedding traditions. (Many of which, incidentally, are being lost due to the incursion of Christianity and the desire of "modern" couples to adopt a Western aesthetic. Sad, but unrelated.) Some of these traditions include "Hen (bachelorette) Parties," a ceremonial palm wine toast and an elaborate (and gorgeous!) bridal headpiece constructed of folded and tied cloth imported from India. But nowhere did I find even a single mention of either an enormous bride-of-cakenstein or the elusive, yet surely even more mind-blowing, "all" mentioned by the bride in the video. (Okay, I admit I'm flying blind here; I just can't see something like a palm wine toast being eighty-sixed as "too much" or "over the top" from a wedding including a cake body-double.) Therefore, out of the kindness of my heart (and the twistedness of my mind) I would like to propose several means by which this bride- constrained by budget to an uncharacteristic demureness- might be properly dignified via that medium which bestowed upon her her initial renown.
I give you, lucky readers, the first look at my stunning new series and film treatments. No need to thank me. Really. No, really! Keep reading; you'll see...even having a close family member in The Industry has not prevented me from accumulating an almost unbelievable, total lack of scripting skillz! Remarkable!
First up, "Cakebeard: the Miniseries."

Synopsis:
An innocent Nigerian immigrant of meagre means labors long hours as a night doorman in a luxury New York co-op as he attempts to save enough money to bring his aging parents to America. He meets a mysterious, sternly beautiful young Nigerian woman in the course of his duties; she is a frequent visitor to the otherwise (apparently) empty penthouse condo. He is drawn in- against his will- by the aura of (mysterious!!) tragedy which surrounds her...or is that merely her scent? A scent...mysteriously(!!) reminiscent of...bakeries?! He is hopelessly intrigued.
After several months of mysteriously(!!) beguiling small-talk, the immigrant (let us call him "Michel.") is working one night in the basement of the building, in an area where residents are provided with stall-like storage spaces. He hears the sound of something heavy being dragged, and when he goes to investigate, the beam of his flashlight picks out the struggling figure of...his mystery(!!) woman! She appears to be trying- and failing- to pull a large burlap sack of something(?) across the uneven cellar floor. Michel finds that, once again, his nostrils are assailed by a powerful, sweet scent. He steps forward to offer his assistance, and, after demurring several times, the woman (let us call her "Carmela") relents and allows him to finish hoisting the heavy sack into the locker and securing it.
Fast-forward to several hours later, and the two are locked in passionate-yet-ultimately-chaste embrace in the luxuriously furnished, though dusty and abandoned-feeling- penthouse condo. Michel divulges his long-held, distant fascination with Carmela and in a gush of emotion she invites him to come visit her that weekend at her "true" home...a resplendent-sounding estate in Westchester.
Michel counts the seconds until the weekend, when, shaking with anticipation, he doffs his doorman jacket and hat and hops the express train to Westchester. He finds Carmela waiting for him at the station in an elegantly-appointed refrigerator truck. Together, they drive in nervous silence to the gates of her estate: an imposing, yet elegant and elaborate wrought-iron confection crowned with stylized sugar-tongs. She produces a massive iron key, fits it to the cherub-faced lock, and together they begin a slow ascent up the impossibly lengthy-seeming, darkly-shadowed drive...

More installments to come...if you can "stomach" them...muahahaahaahaaa

Thursday, November 12, 2009

I'm Still Here...In Case Anyone Noticed

Just wanted to pop in and let my 0-3 loyal readers know that I'm still around these internetz! I ran into an unexpected spot of surgery just over 3 weeks ago, which followed a crazy few days of diagnostic testing.
However- I am once again back in full effect, as it were, and nearing the end of my road to recovery! If all goes as expected and hoped for, I should be increasingly loud, rowdy and busy in the coming weeks and months.
Expect it!