Monday, December 31, 2007

Cricket 2007: Awards

It’s that time of the year again. No, I won’t be a cynical prick this time by bemoaning everything that’s wrong with silly New Year’s parties and launching into the ridiculous behaviour of the depressing bunch of people that make up the party-going crowd. Instead, I’ll follow the second most popular trend that people tend to follow at this time of the year – compiling ‘best of the year’ lists. So here is the first of 3 lists that I have come up with:

I. CRICKET:

Team of the year: Perhaps the most yawn-inducing category. Was there even a hint of a challenge to Australia’s supremacy in any form of cricket that lasted longer than 4 hours? I don’t know why opposing teams even bother to turn up against Ricky Ponting’s demons.

Player of the year: An infinitely more difficult category than the first. Do I give the nod to Jacques Kallis’s metronomic brilliance, Kumar Sangakkara’s assured artistry or Muttiah Muralitharan’s mind-numbing consistency? Purely in statistical terms Sangakkara was beyond all competition, but I think I’ll go with Kallis because of the quality of opposition he faced while making all those hundreds and the grittiness of his response to being omitted from the 20-20 squad.

Match of the year: A tough contest between the Australia-South Africa group clash at the 50-50 World Cup, the Sri Lanka-South Africa thriller at the same tournament and the two Indo-Pak battles at the 20-20 World Cup. The Indo-Pak matches - both of them - get my vote for the sheer novelty and thrill quotient of 20-20 matches.

Tragedy of the year: No disrespect to Bob Woolmer, but the pathetic organization of the 50-over World Cup was the unqualified disaster of the year. The forlorn crowds and lack of competition at the event made most cricket aficionados shake their heads and wonder whether this was the worst World Cup ever, only for the ICC to seal the debate by declaring that contrary to popular belief, the tournament was a resounding success. Reality check, anyone?

Goof-up of the year: Without a doubt the cringe-worthy farce at the end of the World Cup final. Seriously, what was Aleem Dar thinking? Honorable mentions to the Jamaican police for their cheap mystery novel antics after Bob Woolmer’s tragic death and Pakistan’s captain Shoaib Malik who was daft enough to be ignorant of the bowl-out rule at the 20-20 World Cup and dafter still to actually express his ignorance to the world.

Guffaw-worthy moment of the year: The winner here is Shane Warne’s George W. Bush-worthy gaffe, wherein he accidentally sent a dirty SMS to his wife which, quite remarkably, was addressed to someone else. Honestly, that guy’s got one thick head. It’s a miracle he actually knew which side of the pitch to bowl to, with a brain like that.

Colourful character of the year: Santhakumaran Sreesanth, how ridiculous art thou? The bat-swinging in Andre Nel’s face (Nel, incidentally, was another strong candidate for this award) last year was adorable, but Sreesanth's incredibly wayward bowling on the England tour, his riveting altercations with Andrew Symonds, his moments of infamy like the one where he tried to unsportingly run Symonds out and his astoundingly intelligent interviews have made him one of the most polarizing cricketers in the world, and also THE cricketing character of the year. Move over Shane Warne, your successor is here.

Debutant of the year: Mitchell Johnson may not have had quite such an eventful Test debut, but he’s shaping up to be a darn good bowler in all forms of the game and there was no other significant debut all year, so an automatic choice, really.

Let-down of the year: Brian Lara’s failures in the ICL, the rebel 20-20 league floated by Kapil Dev and Co may not have tarnished his legacy all that much, considering the very small number of people who took the ICL seriously, but his decidedly sub-par performances were still quite depressing. After all the hoopla surrounding the ICL’s very expensive signing of the legendary Trinidadian, Lara disappointed spectacularly, barely reaching double figures in any innings. A joke went around that Lara’s runs were some of the most expensive in history, what with his paltry 31 runs through the tournament fetching him a reported 1 million dollars. I’m sure Lara wouldn’t be amused.

Quote of the year: The quote I have selected is not particularly witty or humourous, but its emotional appeal, specially for Indian cricket fans, make it one of the most memorable quotes of the decade. Here's Mahendra Singh Dhoni on seeing the tumultuous response given to his World Cup-winning team in Mumbai:
"We are told that Mumbai is a city which is always on the move. See, me and my boys have brought the entire city to a standstill today."

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Women's Empowerment: What's The Real Obstacle Here?

Serious Subject Alert: Here I go again, posting a very grave and very long article on my blog, and consequently running a very serious risk of losing all my readership in an instant. But what's life without a few risks?


When Oprah Winfrey decides to endorse Barack Obama and not the force of nature that is Hilary Clinton as her preferred U.S. presidential candidate, you know the feminist revolution that once swept across the world, threatening to obliterate everything in its path, is in trouble. Suggesting that this was probably just a case of the ever-magnanimous (and incredibly influential) Ms Winfrey playing favourites amongst her chosen discriminated groups is clearly a futile argument. Hilary Clinton certainly has tried everything in her rich armory to gain the support of Americans – she has played the understanding wife, the cold, calculating strategist, the empathizing leader, even the caring mother-figure. Everything save for the undignified role of the seductress (a role which she prefers to leave, no doubt, for the Monica Lewinskys of this world). And yet, she seems to be fighting a losing battle that is slipping away from her every single day. For all the talk about the West being more broad-minded and supportive of women’s rights, Ms Clinton’s wardrobe and her desperate attempts to break the bubble of pre-supposed feminine inadequacy have attracted far greater attention than her political policies. And that, no matter which way you spin it, is a sad commentary on the efforts of those countless activists who have been trying to prove to an amused and disbelieving world that equality of the sexes isn’t such a fanciful concept after all.

There is no social issue today, except perhaps for AIDS, that elicits as much attention, both positive and negative, as does the idea of women’s empowerment. Which is why it is particularly surprising, not to mention a little annoying, that so little has changed in the way that society looks at women despite decades of unstinting efforts of thousands of activists the world over. Women have been objectified for centuries together, and they are objectified even today. We may go blue in the face denying this, pointing at the purposeful strides that women have supposedly made in every field, but the fact remains that the prettier women are always the ones making the bigger strides while the not-so-pretty are left to wallow in their glorious wakes, wondering and muttering how things might have been a lot different but for a few quirks of fate. Which was the last popular women-centric movie to come out of Bollywood? Chak De! India earned all the big bucks and, as an added bonus, picked up bucketfuls of critical acclaim too, for its supposedly noble theme highlighting women’s rights. However, I couldn’t help but notice that the prettiest lass from the team not only got the most flattering camera space but was also given the royal treatment in terms of character development. Didn’t it strike anyone else as odd that the midget-like, and decidedly unattractive rival of Preeti Sabarwal (the beauty of the team) was consistently painted as the villain in the fight between the two even though both the characters were equally guilty of wrongdoing? And rather unsurprisingly, audiences across the country gleefully lapped it all up without noticing anything amiss. If you want any further confirmation of what I’m trying to say, you only have to turn on your TV and catch the first fairness cream ad that is aired; nothing that I say here will convey my point better than those lovely ads. And oh, if you’ve got a little more time to spare, keep watching the tube until an ad for a men’s fairness cream shows up. Trust me, if nothing else, it’ll keep you thoroughly entertained.

So what exactly is the obstacle that is preventing women from getting their rightful share from society? There can obviously be no clear answer to this question, but my thinking says that the problem lies not in the basic intent behind the feminist movement, nor in the means used by the feminists to achieve their ends. It’s in the peripheral matters, the issues secondary to the whole purpose of the endeavor, wherein all the bungling occurs. Women are equals of men, say the feminists. Right, we agree whole-heartedly with that. But pray why must they insist on thrusting the idea down our minds that women are identical to men? Women are not identical to men; they were never meant to be. Suggesting that women are, in terms of ability, indistinguishable from men, or, in other words, that women can do everything that men can, is not only inappropriate, but also highly insulting to women, men and humanity in general.

Individuality is one of the strongest qualities of humans, which is why it is only imperative for each human to retain his or her unique identity. This is obviously not taken into account by the convoluted logic behind wanting women to do anything and everything that is done by their male counterparts. We can ignore the realities of the world all we want but there’s no going around the fact there are some things that men do better than women, and some that women do better than men. Men are lousy parents and lousier cooks, but so are women terrible at driving and sports. Ok, ‘terrible’ might be a bit harsh when it comes to sports, but honestly, can women ever compete with men on a sustained basis when it comes to the really athletic games like soccer, hockey or tennis? Let’s get real; the main reason why women’s tennis is as popular as it is today is that the hemlines of the ladies can’t stop getting any higher. And as much as I admire the Williams sisters for their determination and athleticism, there’s no way they can convince me that women play tennis at the same level as men – you’ve only got to watch a three-set women’s match that lasts longer than 2 hours and all the huffing and panting and collapsing will give you a fair idea of just how ridiculous the notion that women can do everything that men can really is. And I’m sure everyone has experienced the undeniable truth that a woman working in a male-dominated field is never taken seriously, which again leads to the objectification and bias that I mentioned earlier.

Before anyone takes me for a bigoted male chauvinist, however, I must add that there are numerous things that men can’t do as well as women. Take building and maintaining relationships, for instance. Or being organized and efficient. Or giving shape to the future of humanity by being the ever-compassionate superpower that is a mother. But do we have the men clamoring to prove to the world how they can do all these things as well as women? Definitely not. This, however, opens up another can of worms. Why exactly do women want to compete in male strongholds and not vice-versa? A quick answer would be that the male strongholds are generally the more important and lucrative areas of work, while the things women are good at are just frilly, unimportant non-issues. But is that really so? I defy anyone who says that raising a kid is not important as fighting in a war. In fact, I’d even say raising a kid is actually more important than fighting in a war. What, then, is the real reason behind this disequilibrium? Another unanswerable question, I’m afraid, but I’ll try my best.

To my mind, the single most significant and pivotal reason for the gender inequality that has outlived every civilization in history is the attitude of ALL humans towards the qualities of the two sexes. Bravery, physical strength, decisiveness – all the attributes generally found in males have always been considered the most desirable qualities that a human can possess. ‘Manliness’ is something to be excessively proud about, as is ‘being a man’ or ‘not being a girl’. On the other hand, having qualities like kindness, compassion, patience and love have never been anything to shout about. Being virile is an achievement, even if it is completely inborn, but being girlish is distinctly undesirable. And this is not just the mindset of males; women think the exact same way. That is why, if a woman can cook, something that she’s traditionally supposed to be good at, it’s no big deal. But if a man is a champion at sports, he’s a hero worthy of reverence. Wouldn’t it be a lot simpler for everyone if we just attached a little more value to the abilities and domains traditionally ruled by women? If, for instance, we considered cooking as an admirable career to have, is there any doubt that women would rapidly and completely gain full control of the entire hotel management business all over the world? How about teaching? Or child counseling? Or fashion, for crying out loud? Is it really that shameful to have successful careers in any of these fields?

Alas, for simple logic. Instead of encouraging women to come out of their homes and carve out a distinctive place for themselves in society doing things that they are naturally good at, the so-called feminists are encouraging women to come out of their homes and do things that they’re not naturally good at, thus making their job doubly difficult and triply uncomfortable. Women’s empowerment cannot come from making labored and wince-inducing strides in areas that men are naturally better in, but from making purposeful and confident strides in areas that are suited to feminine abilities and powers. There will always be an Indra Nooyi here and a Serena Williams there to remind us that there can be wondrous exceptions to the rules, but hoping for the exceptions to become the rules is foolish in the extreme. Equality does not mean sameness – men and women have their own unique identities and the best way to reinforce the equality between men and women is to give due respect to the identities and abilities of both the sexes. If we can manage that, there won’t be any need to ‘empower’ women – they have enough power within them already.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Me Bored, So Me Write

I never thought I'd literally see a phrase written all over an event, but it was really hard to keep away the phrase 'too much of a good thing' from my mind while watching the 1st of 3 Test matches between India and Pakistan in Delhi. Honestly, the cricket throughout the match was so vapid and flavourless that it was startling. It didn't help, of course, that the current Pakistan team has about as much talent as a second string New Zealand team. The fizz has clearly fizzled out of Indo-Pak cricket and anyone who still insists that the cross-border rivalry is the definitive cricketing rivalry in the world needs to be rapped sharply on the head with a golfing iron or worse still, be forced to watch the movie Beowulf twice in a row. As a cricket fan, I'd like nothing better than the two countries to go back to their precious bickering and huffy cold shoulders (though only in the cricketing arena). Surely that would bring back the crackling intensity that once made Indo-Pak cricket so thoroughly mesmerizing? And for a short-term solution, how about giving Virender Sehwag a game or two?

Watched Bhool Bhulaiya over the weekend, and I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. Akshay Kumar really has come into his own after all those long, tiring years of insipid roles and lame acting. The show-stealer, however, is undoubtedly the magnificent Vidya Balan who's possibly brought the most engaging charisma and endearing screen presence to the movies since the days of Madhuri Dixit. If only Bollywood was a little kinder to its less beautiful citizens....

Incidentally, if you're at all planning on extracting revenge from a particularly disagreeable adversary, you'd be well-advised to gift him tickets to the movie Beowulf. The poor guy won't know what hit him.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

One Time Too Many


We know you like poking fun at Bollywood, Farah Khan, but it's getting a little old now. It all started, of course, with the hysterical Woh Ladki Hai Kahan number from Dil Chahta Hai. Main Hoon Na took Ms Khan's derring-do a step further; the subtlety and the sheer audacity of the humor carried it far beyond the most accomplished Hollywood spoofs in memory and, in my opinion, it can now be bracketed among the masterpieces of the decade. Yes, it's worked before, but that doesn't mean it will work every time. Om Shanti Om, Farah Khan's latest offering, is everything that a typical Diwali blockbuster ought to be, and yet it's remarkably unsatisfying, almost as though she had all the right intentions and cinematic techniques in mind but forgot somewhere during the making that she was making a full-length Bollywood movie, not an MTV gag show.

Om Shanti Om is as extravagant as they get - the huge sets, colourful songs and charismatic stars are all dutifully in place, as are the melodramatic lines and intentional over-acting. The plot is ludicrously fantastical - an unabashed mixture of Madhumati and Karz, if you will. Shahrukh Khan hams like there's no tomorrow, Kirron Kher weeps buckets as the quintessential tragic mother and there's also a disarmingly gorgeous newcomer in the form of Deepika Padukone to keep things electrified. In short, everything that made Main Hoon Na such a delightful charmer is recreated in this nearly 3-hour long saga. If only Om Shanti Om was half as entertaining as its predecessor. I'm sorry, but Farah Khan has some major explaining to do as to why exactly the first half is as boring as it is. The 70's may have been a fascinating time in the Bollywood studios, but Ms Khan's depiction of the same is decidedly not. Forget the tongue-in-cheek potshots at melodrama, lovers playing lousy tennis and garish costumes - if it doesn't keep you entertained, it's all a waste of time.

The second half is considerably better, and thankfully moves at a lively pace, but again you always get the nagging feeling that something's missing. The almost non-stop sprinkling of stars in funny cameos does manage to perk things up appreciably, but things go flat the moment the movie comes back to the central plot. For some reason, the movie decides to take itself more seriously as it approaches the climax, with expectedly disappointing results. A Madhumati-inspired culmination wasn't exactly the brightest idea, and the end credits, with every single crew member getting to dance absurdly for the cameras, is downright annoying. An overdose of MTV, perhaps?

The songs, for once, DON'T slow down the pace of the movie (surprise, surprise!), and that's mainly because all of the songs have a definite purpose and carry the story forward (with the exception of Deewangi Deewangi - but then again, weren't the "31 stars" the biggest attraction of the movie?). Moreover, the fact that Farah Khan is a choreographer par excellence is a major plus point too. Main Agar Kahoon has to be one of the best shot songs in recent times - one of Farah Khan's finest works ever. Dard-e-Disco is a bit of an eyesore, but the rest of the songs are fairly tolerable, and coming from a sworn song-hater (only in the middle of a movie) like me, that's gigantic praise. You've got at least one department of Bollywood filmmaking completely covered, Ms Khan.

Comparing a director's product with his earlier works isn't always the fairest thing to do. However, when the director decides to repeat or even refine his earlier methods, then comparisons are justified and more importantly, inevitable. And I can confidently say that Om Shanti Om's biggest drawback is that its director is the maker of a gem like Main Hoon Na. While Main Hoon Na was fresh in its appeal and made you laugh hysterically, Om Shanti Om looks repititive and only manages to make you chuckle, and that too sporadically. Again, while Main Hoon Na had a concrete, if laughably unrealistic script (as intended), Om Shanti Om suffers from jerky writing and an excess of needless subplots. And of course, someone needs to tell Ms Khan that the whole spoof-cum-tribute thing looked cute the first time; the second time it only comes off as stale and unimaginative. Please, Farah Khan, get down to some serious filmmaking next time; brand SRK can only save you so many times.

P.S. All of these disparaging comments about Om Shanti Om have stemmed mainly from the fact that I absolutely loved Main Hoon Na. If you haven't watched or worse still, absolutely hated Main Hoon Na, then the chances are that you might just thoroughly enjoy Om Shanti Om.

P.P.S. Deepika Padukone might just be the next big thing of Bollywood. If only she had a remotely pleasant voice to go with her stunning looks (and this is assuming that her voice wasn't dubbed for the movie).

P.P.P.S. Akshay Kumar is positively hilarious in his two-minute role. The movie might actually be worth watching just for his brilliant turn.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

The Good Side Of Bollywood


I'd almost forgotten how it felt to watch a clean, wholesome and thoroughly entertaining Bollywood movie. Now don't roll your eyes at me as though I'm some Hollywood-crazy wannabe. Bollywood actually has been churning out some pretty insufferable stuff of late; you can't blame me for fawning over every new Hollywood release while only coldly condescending to declare to anyone who'd listen that I have no time for the melodramatic trash that is churned out by Indian filmmakers. But every situation has a saviour, as they say, and I can confidently say that I have found, if only accidentally, the perfect balm to my Bollywood-aversion - the deliciously charming Jab We Met.

To put it very simply, the movie is a top-class entertainer. If Socha Na Tha, director Imtiaz Ali's first venture was a refreshing take on the quintessential Bollywood love story, then Jab We Met is more of the same, only considerably funnier. The plot, admittedly, is nothing much to write home about - there can be only so many variations of the boy-and-girl-meet-on-a-train-and-decide-to-embark-on-a-life-changing-journey-together pitch. Ali's execution of the trite, formulaic story, however, seems something like the wave of a magic wand - all of a sudden the situations seem more realistic, the characters more likable and the journey more fascinating. The dialogues are witty, the visuals stunningly dreamy (just why haven't our filmmakers explored Manali to the fullest?) and the melodrama is kept to a bare minimum. Did someone talk about the definitive Bollywood romantic comedy?

There are many things wonderfully close to perfection about Jab We Met, but none as close as the casting. Kareena Kapoor was born for the role of Geet, the high-strung Punjabi who lives life in its most dangerous and intoxicating fullness, and every single scene in the movie screams this simple fact loud and clear. For someone as prone to over-acting as her, Kareena shows remarkable restraint and poise, and some credit for this must definitely go to Ali. This girl clearly has oodles of talent; why do so few directors make full use of it? As she sprints across the railway station, completely out of breath, screaming, "Besharam, apni wardi utar ke phek de", you know you're watching a potential legend. Shahid Kapoor, though overshadowed by the sheer charisma of his co-star, puts in a thoroughly accomplished performance. The music is melodious and the choreography of the songs is breath-taking; however, you can't help but notice that the songs do more harm than good: slowing down the pace of the movie is NOT a good idea. But I can forgive one blemish in a movie which is otherwise so thoroughly entertaining.

The movie has a certain subtlety to it that transcends the loud Geet and her louder family. It has no sermonizing and no unnecessary tears, yet the difference between living one's life impetuously and taking life too seriously is brought out with mesmerizing vividness. The movie has one of the most heart-warming separation lines in the history of Indian cinema and it can also boast, quite unusually for a movie of this genre, of a brilliantly taut climax. Is this the best Bollywood romantic comedy ever? Ah, looks like I'm going a little overboard now. Blame it on the excitability of human nature. Or on the incredible star appeal of a certain Kareena Kapoor. Don't sneer, watch the movie.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Random Reactions

What have you done, J K Rowling?! You've completely ruined Dumbledore for me! (If you don't know what I'm talking about, you really need to read the newspaper more often.)

Also, I think I made a big mistake by including Kimi Raikkonen in my list of over-rated people. He fully deserved to steal the F1 World Championship from right under the grumpy noses of Lewis Hamilton (who's still my favourite driver), Fernando Alonso and McLaren. And did he do it in style!

ALSO, I hate it when Roger Federer loses, specially in a tournament final, as he did today against David Nalbandian at the Madrid Masters. By the way, has it become some kind of a fashion to defeat the top 3 ranked players in consecutive matches?

Saturday, October 20, 2007

A Disease That Refuses To Go Away

I've been told that I write about useless, frivolous things (read: sports and movies) far too often on my blog. And while I'm not usually one to take criticism sportingly, I think being told anything about my blog is certainly an improvement over the cold ignorance that my blog is usually subjected to. So here's my first 'serious' post in quite a while:

Science research studies are in quite a terrific vogue these days. There are scientists doing research on the most diverse subjects imaginable, from analyzing the changes in the average person's favoured pastime to finding out the effects of blogging on general intelligence levels. And then we have scientists speaking disgustingly filthy garbage supposedly backed by some mysterious 'tests' that no one has ever heard of. Ladies and gentlemen, the eminent scientist going by the name of James Watson, THE James Watson, he of the legendary (at least for Biology students) Watson-Crick DNA model, has just become another publicity-hungry Paris Hilton, but without the good looks, of course. Apparently Mr. Watson is aware of certain 'tests' that prove conclusively that white people are inherently more intelligent than people of all other races, particularly those of African origin. Mr. Watson's remarks, pronouncing this extraordinarily dim-witted conclusion, came just days ahead of a lecture in Europe and more suspiciously, the release of his new book (any guesses why he wants all the publicity?) and have predictably sparked an outrage all over the world. He has, since, taken back his comments and apologized, but only after being suspended from his research centre and being forced to cancel his European tour. What I'd like to know, however, is whether making despicable racist comments such as these can be punishable by rigorous jail sentences in any court of law. Also, is there a way to take back the Nobel prize awarded to him in 1962?

We're living in the 21st century, yet the malaise of racism continues to haunt and disgrace us. Just a few days ago Australian cricketer Andrew Symonds complained about being racially abused by sections of the Indian crowds. While reactions to Symonds's claim from the Indian authorities have ranged from the ridiculous ("The crowds weren't doing monkey imitations; they were praying to Hanuman, the deity associated with monkeys") to the silly ("Symonds probably misunderstood the crowds because of language problems"), the Australians should hardly be in a position to cry foul over racist crowds. A year ago a number of coloured South African players were at the receiving end of racial abuse from the typically boorish Aussie spectators, and for years Asians have been mutinously insisting that the regular mistreatment that Muttiah Muralitharan receives in Australia has as much to do with the supposed illegality of his bowling action as it does with the fact that Murali, a true-blue Asian, has forever been close to overtaking the very white Shane Warne in the race to the highest wickets record. But this in no way condones the behaviour of the Indian crowds. Indian spectators, together with those from our beloved neighbour Pakistan, are by far the worst behaved cricket spectators on the planet, and these latest incidents have only confirmed this sorry fact. Most of the Indian authorities, however, would clearly love to condone every Indian spectator in their sight, as comments like "It was all a misunderstanding, we Indians are not racists" amply show. We Indians are not racists? How many times have you seen a North-east Indian walking unobtrusively along a street and a very audible comment like "Chinky chinky chow chow" not coming up from someone on the street? Don't rack your brains for such a memory, it doesn't exist.

I'm sorry, but racism is just as prevalent in our dear country as it is in present-day America or the Hitler-era Germany. We just don't realize it. We fawn over anyone remotely Caucasian or better still, with blond hair, and view every black foreigner with suspicious disdain. We even refer to blacks as 'niggers', blissfully unaware of how offensive the term actually is. We laugh openly at our Northeastern brethren (ever wondered how humiliating that must be for them?), and the worst part is, most of us don't even find anything wrong with that. Which is why I find it particularly annoying when Indians take the moral high ground and claim that "our beautiful culture has no place for racism".

This is, of course, not to say that Indians are the worst perpetrators of this abhorrent sin. Racism, sadly, is about as ubiquitous around the world as water. And no amount of political correctness, superficial 'equality' drives, Academy awards (did Halle Berry even deserve the award for Monster?) and Grand Slam victories (does a day pass by when one of the Williams sisters doesn't receive hate mail?) is going to change that. It comes naturally to most of us, just like the ability to walk and talk. Or as the wonderful Mr. Watson would like to prove, some of are just inherently racist. If the African-American race could be inherently dumb, then why not?