Until she fell, the Miss USA delegate at the 2007 Miss Universe Contest was hardly noticeable. Some critics said it was her fall and prompt recovery which landed her in the top five. It probably also earned her several boos. She is a very pretty girl and had the typical bubbly Miss USA delegate bubbliness. Even as the other delegates counted her down time, she appeared only momentarily bothered. Slowly, her embarrassment showed as her shock wore off. She developed an appealing blush. Miss USA is not the first Miss Universe contestant to hit the floor and, if my memory serves me right, Miss Philippines toppled in Trinidad and Tobago in 1999 and still made it in the top three.
If Miss USA was very pretty then why was she scarcely noticeable until the fall? It is a well know fact that too much of a good thing is bad for you and too many pretty girls on one 32 inch TV, though not necessarily bad for the average man, makes individual beauty elusive. I had trouble telling Miss Brazil from Miss Japan. I mixed up everybody. Then Miss USA fell.
The swimsuit section is actually the skin-wear section and is judged on the creativity and beauty of gyrating female hips. Nothing above the navel has a serious impact on the points a contestant receives. All the bikinis have to be the same and over-gyrations are frowned upon by wives and girlfriends. Tall contestants leverage more points but being too tall strains the eye movement of the amateur judges.
Trinidad and Tobago did not field a delegate this year and it was the first time in sixteen years this happened. The official reason is not enough sponsors. The real reason is that pretty girls don’t need this added stress to become famous. They now use YouTube.
The winner of the 2007 Miss Universe competition is Miss Japan and though she is Japanese, she is not foreign-used. I doubt a bad selection for Miss Universe could ever be made since the selection is highly subjective and never political. The Miss Universe competition is losing its popularity because the Internet makes smart and pretty girls more common. I don’t think the competition can be easily revived with everyone knowing a prettier girl than the prettiest girls competing. It appears great beauty is no longer hard to find.
The start of The Rainy Season is a happy time for most people. It signifies the end of bush fires, the Sahara dust, and WASA’s dam prayers. It brings with it, not only the greenery, but also half a dozen old fridges floating down and blocking up the neighborhood ravines. The rains have a way of exposing bad habits and faulty people. The showers can make flowers grow and carpets smell. It also brings with it warm cozy feelings and frequent TV appearances of the minister responsible for flooding.
Some say the best part of the rainy season is waiting for a hurricane to nearly hit Trinidad and nearly miss Florida. There is always misguided eagerness that hurricanes and storms bring out in people who never had their houses end up in another neighborhood or island. Some say God is a Trini and that is why they don’t bolt down their roofs or think before they vote. I say, God is migrating sooner than they think, and it has nothing to do with West Indies Cricket this time.
The Rainy Season can be unsympathetic to insurance companies and their customers’ premiums. The rain doesn’t claim to be anyone’s friend or anyone’s enemy. The rain is simply a natural occurrence made worse by Global Warming and disaster movies. We can either love the rain or collect it in buckets, it doesn’t care. We can blame the weather all we want but we still have to buy new wiper blades and life rafts. The Rainy Season is not a living thing but it is necessary for our existence and that of umbrella salesmen. The Rainy Season is not here for our convenience or entertainment. It is here because that’s how the Earth spins.
Dear aka, I know this may sound as senseless as your blog but I needed to ask you this before the correct answer is made public. I read this question on another blog and think you need to answer it properly this time. My question is – do short people fall less often than tall people, and do thin people feel less pain than fat people.
Firstly, short people are now called vertically challenged and tall people are called by their names. A recent study of one hundred falling humans have revealed that a tall person is ten times more likely to topple when dropkicked than a short person. Researchers also discovered that short people are poor targets for dropkicking and should be punched hard in the stomach instead.
A recent random pinch test conducted on the streets of the nation’s capital revealed that the police only responded to one out of fifty incidents of random pinching. The test also showed that fat people were slower to slap the pincher and it was harder to find something to pinch on the thin people. One researcher observed that fat people wore tighter jeans, and received large amounts of oggoling while thin people pretended not to care. The study concluded that both fat and thin people felt the same amount of pain and almost the same amount of embarrassment in clothing stores and popular beaches.
My comment in response to Mike Johnston’s blog on
Some of these silver-boxes are even more expensive than a DSLR, but look more fashionable and can fit easier in a shirt pocket or wallet.
I get the impression that Mike Johnston is either being a devil’s advocate, or an aggrieved photographer. Incidentally, the aggrieved photographer is becoming trendy and they, more than likely, may displace the poor and the needy as the object of charity and tax breaks.
I believe Mike Johnston is suggesting that if you only have a limited time on this planet you might as well use it on something useful like real photography or cussing. I almost agree with him.
Not everybody who can afford a BMW buys one and similarly not everybody who can afford a DSLR believes they are worthy of such a device. The average BMW owner craves a status symbol and comfort, and has little appreciation for the intricacies of how the engine really works or why the car must be rebooted every weekend. The average DSLR owner hopes to make the quantum leap forward in his/or her photography, but usually ends up blaming the lens.
What I have discovered is that the world doesn’t come to an end, or become less happy because people are not interested in photography. I don’t know anything about classical Indian dance, or appreciate why the Mona Lisa is such an overpriced painting, but I am happy with that ignorance. Some may scorn me for my ignorance but it’s their scorn and my bliss. Similarly, millions of people are happy with their silver light-capturing boxes, fitted with Leica lens, and set on the green auto-mode because they don’t want to learn the difference between an f-stop and a bus-stop. I doubt these people want to go through the frustration of acquiring photography knowledge, and the even more frustrating process of applying that knowledge in the pursuit of creativity and impressing others.
Because we are not all the same we all seek different pursuits for happyness. Unfortunately, some may not be happy with this latest state but, as the old saying goes, that’s life.
Once upon a time, on a tiny diagonally shaped island located not too far away, there lived a goodly cleric. He was loved by all the people, revered by all his followers, and even tolerated by his wife.
One day, as bad luck would normally have it in April, the cleric was discovered hiding in his closet by a bunch of his most possessed followers. He was humming along to an Elton Wrong song being played on his iPod while eating a bag of fruit. Pink with embarrassment and fearful for his life, the goodly man declared he didn’t know it was Elton Wrong and thought it was Dire Straight – It should be noted that turning pink while eating a fruit was not considered helpful in such situations and shouting Dire Straight had only a minimal effect on the amount of blows received. This enraged the loyalist even more and they started to shout imaginary passages and a real nursery rhyme from their collectively small minds. He begged his followers for forgiveness but they didn’t know the meaning of the word and no one walked with a dictionary that day. The mob demand answers and a full cash refund, but he still could not explain why he had a passion for eating fruits in closets. Maybe he had a thing for seeds.
The followers, believing that love not only changes everything but should hurt, agreed on some good licks. They dragged the MP3 player by the ear buds, along with the fruit by the bag, into the parking lot and leh go some good wood onto the deviants. The followers knew that lehing go some good wood was the answer to all the world’s problems, and things like kindness and understanding were for marketing purposes only. The mob then called for an embargo on all iPods and Mac computers because its maker was closely associated with a major foreign fruit. Fearful of contamination by ignorance, the mob also stopped eating vegetables since most followers had great problems distinguishing real fruits from real vegetables in nightclubs. The cleric couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about since after a few drinks they all tasted the same anyway.
The preacher man finally succumbed to pew pressure and turned his life into a bigger mess. He started to eat straight meat and poultry, but no hen. He took part in village fruit-hunts, where even jams, jellies, marmalades and the better quality fig newtons were not spared a good trashing. But he didn’t care anymore since, along with kindness and understanding, it was removed from his job specification. All they required of him was to carry a straight public face that was washed in a gold, fruitless sink all year round.