megalomaniacs

Thursday, September 10, 2009
***********************************************
MEGALOMANIACS
********************************************
The only way to understand a country is to work there for a living. Likewise, the best way to understand a man is to work for him. With occasional and brief interruptions I have worked for Armenians all my life, mostly at minimum wage, and more often than not, at less than minimum-wage jobs. I have even worked for an Oriental carpet dealer, who was so patriotic that he couldn't stand anyone using a Turkish word in his presence.
If you think I have a low opinion of my fellow countrymen, you should meet a member of our self-appointed elite, which translated into dollars and cents means the scum of the earth. I had the misfortune of meeting some of them after I translated Zarian into English. Almost every other Armenian I met after that wanted to be translated, edited, or reviewed by me. No one ever asked me to translate Abovian, Raffi, or Naregatsi, only me, me, me!
At first I tried to be nice to all of them and was overly generous in my reviews, until one of our distinguished academics said to me: “Why do you waste your time on mediocrities?” When I said something to the effect that I was trying to be positive to survivors who had been through hell, or words to that effect, he said: “If you praise nobodies, what will you say if you ever run into an authentic genius?” It took me several years to realize that this gentleman considered himself one of them.
Once, when a third-rate loud-mouth vodanavorji, the flunky of a national benefactor, proposed that I translate a collection of his verse -- “a minimum of no less than 600 pages,” were his specifications-- I gave him to understand that I might not be able to handle the job. Whereupon he retorted: “You translate a phony like Zarian and you dare to turn me down?”
It goes without saying that whenever you say no to an Armenian, you make an enemy for life.
Years later I met Naregatsi's translator, the late Mischa Kudian, a dental surgeon by profession. We had a long talk -- about two hours -- during which he recounted some of his experiences as translator. Had he written about them, it would have been a longer lamentation.
#
Friday, September 11, 2009
***********************************************
ANSWERS
********************************************
Everything I write is an answer to a specific question.
I have answered a thousand questions
and I expect I will go on answering a thousand more.
But there will always be those who say
I refuse to answer questions.
If they can't bitch about real things,
they invent them.
They find it difficult to reconcile the fact that
throughout our millennial history we,
the smartest people on earth,
have failed to solve our problems.
Hence the mantra:
“We don't need critics. We need solutions.”
Do we really need solutions?
I doubt it.
What we need however is a treatment for a terminal condition
whose nature we pretend not to know.
At the end of each year,
our bosses, bishops, and benefactors
should deliver a speech or sermon
that begins with the words,
“This year too we have failed to enhance our solidarity.
As a result we remain as divided and tribalized as ever.”
If so far they have not uttered these words
it's because they know they are guilty as charged
and they refuse to admit it.
If they did, they would run the risk of turning the people against them.
Which means no more fund-raising
in the name of God and Country.
Besides, admitting failure is not good public relations.
We prefer to brag.
We brag about our survival
even as we die the death of a thousand self-inflicted cuts.
We brag about the number of schools we have built,
not what it is that's being taught in them.
Next time you get a letter from a fund raiser,
you may notice that it ends with a boast
that goes something like this:
“If so far we have succeeded in realizing our goals
it is because we have had your generous support.
We need more of your support now
in order to succeed in the future.”
(Translation: “Mi kich pogh oughargetsek.”)
Comrade Panchoonie is dead.
Long live Jack S. Avanakian!
Have I said this before?
Probably.
Do I repeat myself?
Certainly.
When dealing with a recalcitrant child,
you have two options:
to resort to physical punishment
or to repeat yourself.
I repeat myself because the physical option is out.
#
Saturday, September 12, 2009
***********************************************
CHAOS
********************************************
If you want to have a more objective idea
of our real situation in the Diaspora,
consider a United States during the last four decades
without an Attorney General and a Justice Department.
Nixon would have served his full term in the White House
and members of his administration would have taught
all their dirty tricks to the next Republican contender.
To survive as a viable alternative,
the Democrats would have had no choice
but to resort to dirtier tricks.
The trouble with crooks is that
as soon as they realize they can get away with something,
the come back to get away with more.
And when crooks are in charge,
honest men live in fear.
And worse: they go underground
or join the silent and passive majority.
In a lawless land it is not the best that survive
but the most ruthless.
Deep Throat, himself a high-ranking agent of the FBI,
was afraid to identify himself and to speak up.
Ben Bagdikian lived in fear of his life
when he had possession of the Pentagon Papers.
And now, consider the number of honest journalists
who have been assassinated recently in Russia.
As for our beloved homeland:
Does anyone know the name of our Attorney General there
or for that matter whether he even exists?
Speaking for myself,
I am in no position to answer that question.
I can only say “Der Voghormia!”
#