Steve Chai's Apology

President Obama and USC can get away with anything.  They’re like two peas in a pod, off the same vine, and  birthed from the same root.

Why?

Henry Louis Gates, a close personal friend of President Obama,was arrested for trying to break into his own house.  The Cambridge police officer arrested him for disorderly conduct for continuing to yell, accuse the officer of racism, and at different points even said, “You don’t know who you’re messing with,” and “This is what happens to black men in America.”  What appears to be a non-story became a story when it came to light that Mr. Gates is a close personal friend of Mr. Obama.  When asked his opinion, the president responded, “I don’t know, not having been there, and not seeing all the facts… but I think it’s fair to say… that the Cambridge police acted stupidly…”

“Stupidly”?  Maybe it’s because President Obama went to Columbia instead of Harvard.  The President of the United States slammed on law enforcement officers without “all of the details.”

To get his foot out of his mouth, President Obama held his “beer summit” in which he brushed aside both a blatant attack on the police officers of Cambridge, MA and his uninformed label on law enforcement personnel en masse as racists.  And the press corps?  The valiant, vigilant, and often virulent, watch dogs of the public?  How did they respond?  In humor and gaiety, happy to report that the President of the United States does not make ridiculous, groundless claims after all  (sarcastic laugh inserted here.).

In the same way, Pete Rodriguez, a nomadic NFL coach, who has worked with several different franchises in several key positions, is reported to have attended, consulted, and coached – YES, COACHED – the Trojans of USC during the 2008-2009 NCAA Football season.  Several different NCAA officials, who have been investigating the Trojans for allegations of institutional lack of control, have been quoted as saying that Rodriguez’s actions violated NCAA bylaws.  What appears to be a non-story became a story in light of other NCAA investigations into the practices of head football coach Pete Carroll and the University of Southern California.

And how did the public respond?  People so eager to lambast UCLA’s recruiting practices of the 1990’s?  With humor and gaiety, happy to report that USC could not possibly cheat, given the impressive record of championships and victories (sarcastic laugh inserted here.).

So what have I learned from all this?    If you win, you can get away with anything.  So win at all cost.

I will say this though: if being a winner means being like President Obama or Pete Carroll, winning is seriously overrated.

http://espn.go.com/page2/movies/s/simmons/020830.html

I hate Bill Simmons.  I love the Karate Kid saga.

But this article is probably the funniest thing I’ve ever read  in my life.  A kind warning: if you’re not passionately in love with the Karate Kid trilogy,  do not read this article.  You just won’t get it.

Alright people.  This has gone far enough.

One of my students came to me today and told me that she really cared about keeping marriage defined as the union of a man or a woman, but felt like she was never going to be able to create enough change because her position had been categorized as that of a bigot and homophobe.

I thought America was the land of pluralism: a place where all ideas could be voiced.  I will be the first to admit that there are some marginalized groups that have been stripped of their voice in the past.  For that, I am sorry.  But that is no reason to silence those who disagree with you now.  If healthy discussions and heartfelt disagreements can’t happen in America, where else can we go?

We are raising a generation of people who have been pigeonholed into thinking a certain way.  No dissenting opinions will be accepted or validated.  You are either with us, or you are a bigot and homophobe.

To my student: I’m sorry.  America is letting you down.

To everyone else: Political correctness is letting everyone down.  It cheapens freedom.  Social oppression of dissenting ideas may be worse than political oppression.

I had way too much time this afternoon as I am waiting for my friend’s wedding rehearsal tonight.  Here’s why…

I was reading about the Jakarta bombings when, coincidentally, a friend that I met while in Indonesia 5 years ago added me as a friend on Facebook.  I added him, and noticed that he was no longer in Indonesia but in the Netherlands.  I thought that was odd: an American college student goes to Indonesia, meets a friend who later goes on to live in the Netherlands, and reconnects through Facebook.

If you have a Facebook account, you know that if you look at the page of someone who isn’t your friend, you will see only their name, their picture, and five of their friends (I imagine Facebook does this to facilitate people finding one another).  Realizing that this friend and I had no other mutual friends, I came up with an interesting question: How many clicks on friends would it take before I came upon another one of my friends?

So I began clicking.  I chose the first friend on the row, and whenever it came to a dead end (sometimes there is no information on one’s site), I would push the back button on my browser and choose the first person  on the list again (as it refreshes every time the page loads).  After 12 minutes of clicking, seeing networks of Netherlands, Indonesia, UK, India, Pakistan, Kuwait, UAE, Jordan, Spain, Portugal, Brazil, New York, New Jersey, Georgia, Utah, Arizona, and Inland Empire (909, baby!), I came upon my friend Robin Choi’s page (Burbank, CA).

And how many degrees of separation are there between Mr. Choi and myself?  243…  Well, in reality, only one.

I was amazed to find out that my formula actually worked.  I was once again wowed by the power of the internet.  I was surprised that of my 600 or so friends, Robin would be the one to pop up.  And, I was shocked by this one truth: It’s a small world after all.

Don’t laugh.  It’s so true.  243 degrees took me around the world to see the faces of  241 people I didn’t know.  241 people I may never know, but are on the chain of people that connect my Indonesian friend to my former student Robin.

My attention returned to the news article I was reading, and then my heart began to break.  Last night, two suicide bombers took the lives of 9 people, and wounded 50 others.  How many degrees of separation were there between those bombers and those nine people? I began to wonder why in a time when technology and culture make our world so small, there can be so much more hate in the world.  I learned tonight that every person I see, every tragedy I hear, every bit of suffering I discover may be closer than I think. There are only 6.7 billion people in the world.  The person we may think is so distant may only be 243 degrees of separation away… or maybe just one.

God help me love people everyday.

Last night, to the cheers of thousands and the jeers of none, Manny Ramirez returned home to Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles.  And I, like the thousands of los Doyers fans around me, went to watch the game to see Manny Ram’s first game home.

I love the Dodgers.  I have cheered for them since I was a young boy.  I love the Dodgers so much, when people talk crap about them, I want to throw my garlic fries on the floor and get into a big fight.  I love them so much that I have ditched friends’ birthday parties to go to Chavez Ravine.  I love them so much, that I have about tatooing the LA logo on my chest.  I love them so much I hate the sight of orange and brown, and will even boo a seven year old girl that wears Giants clothing (true story, ask my friends).

And yes, I love them so much that last night I stood in ovation for Manny’s return despite allegations of steroid use.  I was blinded by my love of baseball, Los Angeles, and my Dodgers.  I argued with commentators that criticized angelenos for their double standard, and was even angered by the notion that Dodgers fans’ devotion to Manny was like San Francisco’s devotion for Barry.

And yet for the first time last night, as I was enjoying my Dodger dog in the second inning, an odd video was played between innings.  It was to the tune of Guns n Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle, and featured Manny Ramirez hitting homeruns, playing terrible defense, joking around in the dugout, teaching his teammates handshakes, and taking curtain calls.  The video ended with three words: “Manny being Manny.”  That’s when it hit me.  The allegations over the use of steroids were – successfully, I might add – being portrayed as the antics of a goofy, fun-loving guy.

I sat in my seat stunned as fans around me nonchalantly sang along with the video.

Steroid use is not okay.  Manny Ramirez using them is not okay.  Dodgers fans, being okay with Manny or any one using steroids is not okay.  It is not simply Manny being Manny – it is wrong, and people should say so.

Steroids use is wrong.  Even for Dodgers.

That’s not to say you haters aren’t wrong either.  Everyone deserves a second chance (maybe even Barry Bonds… wow, I can’t believe I just wrote that), and here is Manny’s.  He has taken umpteen hundreds of drug tests before without a hitch.  He is ranked 15th all time in Home Runs and 19th all time in RBIs.  It can’t all be steroids.

During the press conference before his first game back from his suspension, Manny confidantly declared, “Mistakes were made, and I’m sorry.  I’m not perfect.  There’s only one person that was perfect, and they killed him.”  Something clever about being sinless casting stones goes in here.  Anyway, Manny served his suspension in line with League rules.  He’s back.  His swing is sick and he’s out to prove that it was the ‘roids.

I’m a Dodger fan.  And I’ll see all you suckers in October.

Last night, the lining in my shoe ripped, and a gigantic hole formed at the sole of what used to be nice leather shoes (I’m confident that the combination of buying them from Ross for $9.99, weighing a svelte 320 pounds and owning them for 3 years did them in).  Walking in them became an arduous task; so much so that after dinner I walked into a Dick’s Sporting Goods store to purchase new shoes.

After about 10 minutes I found myself walking to the Crocs display.  Though I swore I never would, my feet were killing me, comfort trumped better reasoning faculties, and I walked out of the store with my new pair of Crocs.  4 years after my podiatrist friend recommended them to me, I caved to the craze.

Only it looks like the trend is over.  Leave it to me to jump on the bandwagon that is careening over the side of a cliff (80’s Rock Ballads, Krispy Kreme, Pinkberry, and now Crocs).  Oh well.  I guess that’s the thing about trends: everything eventually becomes untrendy.

As for me, I will listen to my Peter Cetera songs (2o years after the fact), enjoy my Krispy Kreme Doughnuts (each one is like 3000 calories), and look for stores that sell those little charms that you stick on your Crocs (they’re called jibbitz!).  In a city like Los Angeles where everything is dictated by who or what is “in,”  I will wear my ugly shoes proudly.  My only regret is that they didn’t have Crocs that display my first love.

Second love it is:

+      = Crazy Delicious

Tonight I was honored to watch as ten different musical groups – all varied in style and flavor – celebrated music and the arts in the Asian American community.  Seven amateur bands took to the stage and presented with passion and class their respective art, and the night culminated in three known Asian American artists sharing their music as well.  At the end of the night, one of the judges (a Caucasian-American) noted that the night’s talent showcased not Asian performances, but excellence in music that transcended skin color, race or creed.

The lone scar in an otherwise beautifully orchestrated night was one of the emcee who proceeded to constantly make a fool of himself.  His remarks were at best unfunny, and at worst seriously offensive.  He began the night with a divisive introduction in which he basically aliented any non-Asian person in the crowd by essentially accusing “the majority” of trying to hold Asians back from progress.  He then  explained that “blackheads” (a term he used for Asian Americans) would be the next generation of leaders simply because they had an unsurpassed work ethic.  Then, to prove that he would not be satisfied by only offending non-Asians, he began a game known as “Top 10 Asian Stereotypes” in which he asked the audience to shout out discriminatory stereotypes of Asian Americans (one audience member shouted out “Small!” to be met with the following retort from this emcee: “Only in anatomy.”).  This painfully agonizing session ended with, “I’m a pastor – let’s pray.”

Ouch.  Didn’t see that one coming.

On a night where Asian Americans were celebrating their art and the passion that has fueled the progress of the Asian American community, one man found a way to set us back 30 years.  The cringes from the crowd were hidden by awkward laughter, and the few of us that weren’t laughing were actually crying because we, as pastors, know that wisdom should pervail in everything that is spoken out loud.

At the end of the night, the pride the musicians showed in their accomplishments far outweighed the ridiculous statements of one man who doesn’t understand the difference between funny and foolish.  Stand tall, fellow Asian Americans – 10 great musical acts chose to silence the buffoonery of one Asian American idiot to proudly declare that progress has been made, and no one is going to take that pride away.

By the way, just in case you were interested, I do want to say that I did record all of tonight’s show, and managed to keep a copy of the night’s recording in order to prevent another Nike-like incident.

I looked each of them square in the eye.

“The two American journalists arrested in North Korea?”

Blank.

“The Iranian Election Controversy??”

Yawn.

“The Uighurs of Western China???”

Blink-blink, blink-blink.

These are the faces of youth kids today.  Faced with unprecedented amounts of technology, communication, opportunities, and freedom, the youth of our generation have chosen to sit quietly with their hands folded.  You always know a Milford man.

I’m sorry, Youth.  Maybe it was the generation before you and its carefree spirit.  Maybe it’s the media.  Or maybe it’s just that no one has given you a chance.  It’s easy to blame people for the selfish, ego-maniacal, narcissistic lives you have lead until now.  But rest assured: I will no longer stand idly by as I see the next generation sit on its hands as the world degenerates into an all out war on the poor, the weak, and the marginalized.  Be empowered to stand up – do more than talk about change; be the change.  Don’t pity yourself into thinking you can’t.

An African-American man is President of the United States.  One of the richest men in the world is a college drop out that made a website so other students can take a quiz to see “Which Fast Food Restaurant Are You?!”  And now, a ridiculously unfunny comic is the junior Senator from Minnesota.

So to quote said comic: “Take a look into that mirror and say, ‘I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and, goshdarnit, people like me.”  Then, be that change.

As both a youth pastor and a college counselor, I have had numerous parents come to me and say the following: “I’m entrusting my kid into your hands.”

First of all, allow me to be 100% clear: I am not a parent, and do not know the first thing about parenting; I am the last person you should be entrusting your children to.  Secondly, I don’t know if parents truly understand the gravity of that statement.

What does that really mean anyway?  Is that a jedi mind trick-like way to hold others responsible for not being a responsible parent?  Does it mean that you are seriously absolving yourself of responsiblity when it comes to raising your child?  Or is it simply something parents say in passing, in order to make me (and others) feel like they actually play a role in the development of their children?

In any case, I’m tired of hearing this statement from parents.  Please, don’t entrust others to do your job.  I would rather hear parents say “Let’s partner together for the benefit of my child,” or ask, “Can you pray for me and my child to communicate better?” or exclaim, “Spending time with my children is so much fun!”  That’s what pastors, counselors, and teachers really want to hear.

The World Food Programme has run out of food for North Korea.

For starving children living in one of the most impoverished, famine-ridden, malnutritioned countries in the world, the world has determined that food will be a bargaining chip in the game of stemming nuclear proliferation.

I wholeheartedly agree that North Korea must answer to the international community with regards to its nuclear arsenal.  But do more than hold out on food aid.  Aggressively demand reform.  No one suffers from withholding food aid.  For that matter, it isn’t  as if the people who are starving are receiving the food aid.  All we’re doing is giving the propaganda machine more fuel with which to brainwash the general public.  So please, let’s make a real stand for humantarianism instead of pretending that gestures like withholding food will cause North Korea to change.