When asked who is the most famous actor in the world, how many of you would say, “Jackie Chan”? Or for the question, who was the most important female celebrity of the 20th Century, how many would say, “Oum Kalthoum”? In the West, we often forget that the majority of the world’s population is either immune to Western popular culture, or at least, has its own popular culture that influences a greater number of people than our Madonnas, Michael Jacksons, and Fernando Alonsos do. Just as American culture dominates Western theatres, radio stations, and TV, Egyptian popular culture has imperialized the Arab World. And two of its major figures are Oum Kalthoum (also spelled Umm Kulthum), the Egyptian Diva, and Naguib Mahfouz, the Egypian Nobel Prize winning novelist.
Category Archives: Literature
Bill Clinton, Elvis, Milan Kundera, Billie Holiday, Chet Baker, and my Grandmother
Bill Clinton was probably the US’ most charismatic president. Of course, people either loved or hated him. What I could never understand is why, even at moments when I thought I had lost respect for the man or even when I knew he was just b.s.ing, he could still move me with one of his speeches. I mean, think about it. Here’s a guy from Georgetown University and from Yale with a redneck twang in his voice.
Then one day it hit me. Bill Clinton sounds a lot like Elvis Presley when he talks. That is what essentially makes him so listen-to-able. Bill is from Little Rock and Elvis was from Memphis. They are pretty close, both geographically and culturally. Listen carefully next time you hear Bill speak, close your eyes, imagine it is the King. Actually, there was a book written about Bill being the Rock and Roll President.
So, what does Bill Clinton sounding like Elvis Presley have to do with Milan Kundera, Billie Holiday, Chet Baker and my Grandmother?
Filed under Digressions, Friends / Family, Jazz, Literature
Haruki Murakami
So that’s how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that’s stolen from us – that’s snatched right out of our hands – even if we are left completely changed people with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to our allotted span of time, bidding farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.
– Haruki Murakami, “Sputnik Sweetheart”. Continue reading
Filed under Digressions, Literature

