Giant Robot Store and GR2 News
(Art by spoon+fork.) The Jersey newspapers usually run national news in the front sections. Apart from high-school sports and construction kickback busts, there was almost never any local news. Mr. Angrywall made the front covers of every newspaper that they let me have in my holding cell. Only his name wasn’t “Angrywall.” It was “Aggarwal.” He had been growing several different kinds of marijuana in a few of the rooms on the top floor. Some varieties were new to the law-enforcement community. Which included James O’Keefe. Turns out that wasn’t his real name. His real name was Shawn Johnson. He was a detective with the Narcotics Central Unit of the state. I found out later that they had put Johnson on me because I was evaluated to be the most at risk of recidivism. They wanted to see whom I would go to for more pot. My court-appointed lawyer was a joke. He was a nervous Oriental guy named Chuck Shu. Yeah, I’m not kidding. He encouraged me to “remember” some sort of story of how I saw Howard regularly get pot from Mr. Angrywall. “Better yet,” he said, “say you went with Howard to buy pot from Mr. Aggarwal.” “Chuck,” I told him, “I didn’t see shit. I have no idea where Howard got his pot from.” “You’ve been apprehended in another drug-related crime, Sean. Under your prior conviction, that’s an, ah, automatic three-year sentence.” “So you want me to lie?” “Oh, no, no, no — don’t lie. But think harder. You might have forgotten. It could be suppressed deep down. If you can remember a certain scenario, and testify against Mr. Aggarwal, I can probably get you an immunity deal.” “That means no time at all for me?” “Yes. It could even make you a local hero. Mr. Aggarwal was found to have an extraordinary amount of marijuana plants and, ah, associated paraphernalia.” “What kind of sentence is Mr. Angrywall looking at?” “Probably 20 to 25 years. Ultimately, it could be reduced to 10, I think.” “They wouldn’t deport him to India?” “He’s a naturalized American citizen. They won’t deport him. Can’t, in fact.” “What about Mrs. Angrywall?” “Mrs. Aggarwal hasn’t been charged.” “What’s going to happen to her?” “I guess she’ll be visiting her husband on the weekends, heh.” In my holding cell, I got back into reading, but not books. They let me have newspapers every day with the classified sections and personal ads left out. They were saying Mr. Aggarwal may have been the sole source of the strong marijuana that was going around grade schools in Monmouth and Ocean Counties. An editorial in the Asbury Park Press said that “Raj Aggarwal should have used his knowledge and intelligence for good, not evil.” Some Indian kids had been beaten in school. One badly enough to be hospitalized. The hotel and hamburger stand were both closed by the Shore Points sheriff. They said that my role in the whole thing was as of yet unclear....
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The latest issue of The Asian American Literary Review is out. It’s a major step up in the young life of The AALR in terms of ambition and production. Guest editors Rajini Srikanth and Parag Khandhar, as well as Editors-in-Chief Lawrence-Minh Bui Davis and Gerald Maa, are to be congratulated heartily. The East Coast-based AALR commemorates a decade in Asian America after 9/11. The entire Asian community in New York has seen things change profoundly in obvious ways (racial profiling of South Asian, Arab, Middle Eastern and Muslim Americans; the conversion of Chinatown into a parking garage for the Feds) and in subtle ways (Afghani restaurants took down maps of the country from their dining rooms). It is a full-scale multimedia effort: The print journal collects first-person testimonies and transcribed discussions and interviews, while there are also visual art sections and an illuminating DVD. The pieces range from angry to somber to bitingly satiric. A long-time contributor to Time is eyed carefully after an airport customs official sees a Syria stamp on his passport and thinks the journalist’s chicken-scrawl handwriting is Arabic. A 13-year-old plaintively asks to live in a world “without having the thought of something bad happening to you.” In words, images and performance, we find that when we view the most unforgettable events from dozens of viewpoints, we not only honor the past but also contemplate our future. Pushkar Sharma‘s mindblowing “10 Little Coolies” spoken-word piece from the DVD. One of five of Tomie Arai‘s works in the print issue.
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This article name drops what has to be every South Asian actor in Hollywood. How many can you recognize? The best thing is, it’s probably every South Asian working actor. There’s a lot including the voice of Apu - Hank Azaria. For such a short article, they hammered in one fact, yes there are many but, “brown is the new black”? We’re not sure of that one. (Tribune – South Asians in Hollywood)
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