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The American capacity for frilly, over-polite distortions of obvious truth, isn´t something I really miss. Czech men aren´t exactly hand-wringing Woody Allen types. Is there something about public transportation that brings out the latent octopus in all Czech men? A recent International Business Times article decried the global proliferation of baseball caps as a “symptom of society´s seemingly permanent deterioration”.
While your significant other denying the muffin top peeking out of your jeans may spare your feelings it´s still dishonest. Perhaps it´s due to the language barrier, but lengthy discussions of the “what-exactly-are-we” nature don´t seem to occur with them. As a blushing Midwesterner first come to this land, I immediately took note of the extended Metro make-out as a marquee cultural difference. I can´t count the number of times I´ve studied a text message from a would-be Czech suitor, reading between the lines of the phrase “I have very busy program tomorrow,” searching for some subtle suggestion of blow off, then firing back a sassy retort only to be met with his complete bewilderment. In a 2011 survey tallying World Penis Size and compiled by Everyoneweb.com, a Web site providing “statistical information offered by trusted research centers and reports worldwide” Czechs placed third in Europe, surpassed only by Frenchmen (#2) and Hungarians (#1). Czech men and fashion still have a long way to go, but this is one dowdy look they haven´t latched onto. The Czech language is so awash with diminutives that it´s often referred to by our neighbors to the north as “baby Polish”.
Immigrant parents lose touch with their friends and family, especially back in the days of expensive collect calls.
Language and cultural barriers widen generational gaps between parents and their American-born children.
Mediterranean men are typecast for swarthiness, Frenchmen get points for savoir faire, and all Swedes are certainly sculpted blonde vampires.
But try imagining a scenario with Czech men in the desired role and things get a little blurry.
Furthermore, he protects the gatekeepers from revolution because their acceptance of him gives outsiders something to aspire to. His father is a doctor who rose out of a Dickensian factory in India, yet he is cool with his eldest son being a semi-employed 30-something actor who spends more time hunting down taco trucks than building his career.Now, the showdid a lot to advance media representation and exuded a welcome sense of accessible artsiness. That being said, I’ve always thought that the show was overpraised because it uncritically presented a white-centered foodie/wanderlust/HBO metropolitan culture as the apex of social progress.Behold “Mo N Liberalism”, flatterer of gatekeepers and apparent heir to the cultural throne. The main problem with the show is that it treats Dev’s minority status with an adorable weightlessness.When Dev fears that Rachel’s grandma is an old racist bat, it actually turns out she’s a hip old jazz girl and they bond over pasta.All right, perhaps it can be said that the kind of racism that cool young New Yorkers face is going to be more subtle.