Lately the “Saturday Night” part has become more figurative than literal. But rather than apologize, we’ll just pull out our nifty little “artistic license”.
Once upon a time on google…
"We figured there was too much happiness here for just the two of us, so we figured the next logical step was to have us a critter."
So as you may have gleaned from the Master of the Extraordinary’s “kind words”, I have spent the last few months in Brazil. While I won’t go into too many details about my time here (remember what they say about Vegas?), I have found a talented, funny Brazilian writer from the interior of São Paulo, who has agreed to share his own perspective on this tropical paradise that he calls home. Please give a big, warm TES welcome to Mr. João Ferrrari Pinto.
- Carlos de la Gringa
Anderson Silva 1 x Soccer Ball 0
One of the first requests I always get from foreigners is to show off my “soccer moves”. Just because I’m from the country of the jogo bonito, I automatically must have prodigious abilities with a ball. Does nobody realize how annoying that assumption is? It would be like going up to a French guy you met in a hostel and asking him to make you foie gras, quiche and snails for dinner or telling the waiter at the Chinese restaurant that you want to become his disciple and learn the subtle art of Kung Fu.
Not all Brazilians can dribble past twenty defenders before springing into the air and bicycle kicking the ball into the goal. Nor have they all played on professional teams in Europe with the likes of David Beckham and Cristiano Ronaldo. And yet somehow I was always picked first for impromptu games when I was in the US (never mind the fact that I really was better than any of the Americans).
The truth is, I hate soccer. It is a boring low-scoring sport filled with spoiled narcissistic crybabies, who spend more time grooming their hair and shopping for trendy clothes than they do preparing for games. Personally I prefer mixed martial arts. There’s no pretending to fall down or whining to the ref because that big jerk from the other team “touched you”. It’s just two men duking it out to prove who is tougher. Give me Anderson Silva over Pelé any day.
Nonetheless, I still plan on watching Santos (Pelé’s old team) play Barcelona this Sunday in the Club World Cup at 8:30 in the morning. Although this may seem to contradict everything I just wrote, I assure you that it is out of no love for the game that I am waking up at that ungodly hour. Instead, the idea of watching a Brazilian team beat a European team with an Argentinean star is worth upsetting my precious Sunday morning beauty sleep. Moreover, if Barcelona does manage to win, you can be sure that the three Brazilians on their side had something to do with it.
Back in June I would never have imagined that this day could come… And yet, here I am, the Master of the Extraordinary, extending a most sincere apology to all of our loyal readers who have put up with our unnecessarily long hiatus from the hallowed pages of the legendary institution that is Tales of Extraordinary Sanity.
But then again, I also would never have guessed that Simone would suddenly go back to Italy without the slightest warning to complete his “studies” or that Carlos would run off to Brazil to find “true love”. It just proves the weak, despicable and down right disgusting nature of the people I’ve had to work with here at TES in order to bring you your beloved articles. This is the last time I ever agree to work with humans.
Anyways, we’re back. Although we will no longer be publishing articles every day, according to the Internal Revenue Service we are still considered a daily. So get excited because we have some new columns lined up for you as well as the typical TES content you’ve come to love and expect.
Extraordinarily Yours,
- The Master of the Extraordinary
PS. Rest assured that those responsible for our extended absence will be adequately punished.
This week TES is proud to bring you for the first time ever, a real-life flesh and blood guest columnist! He hails all the way from the southeast of Brazil and was crazy enough to submit us a column! (If you too would like to write for TES, you can send us your submission at talesofextraordinarysanity@gmail.com.) We’ll try not to laugh too much.
I’m going to talk about something that bothers almost everybody here in Brazil. On any night, it is really common for people to watch television: soup operas, sitcoms, soccer, news, etc. So of course, there are thousands of ads at this time, some less annoying than others. But the absolute worst is the tooth paste ad! Fucking terrible! For those of you who think I’m exaggerating, let me describe a typical ad:
Usually it starts off with this dentist standing in a lab coat, perfectly normal, right? WRONG! Because this dentist is not in his clinic but in the middle of a crazy street. “Why crazy?”, you ask. Because it’s not some small local street but the most famous and busy avenue of the city, with thousands of offices, restaurants, subway stations, buses, cars, and most importantly, people sprinting because they are late! It’s a stressful avenue where nobody stops to give you the time of day. It’s here that we find our dumb-ass dentist.
Then comes the worst part, the part that pisses us Brazilians off. The dentist spots someone in the crowd but not any ordinary person! If it’s a man, he is handsome and muscle-bound, if it’s a woman, she is super-hot with her breasts about to pop out of her shirt, either way they are wealthy and not in the slightest hurry. “So he just stares at them?” NO!!! He goes over and asks them if their teeth are clean, and they actually answer him!! “I think so; I just brushed.”
Then the dentist proposes to check. And the guy or girl smiling like a jerk accepts!!! WHAT!?!? Do you see how crazy this is? A dentist in the middle of a bustling street picks out some attractive stranger and without the slightest greeting or introduction, asks to look into their mouth! Are you kidding me? If somebody tried this in real life, the girl would tell him to fuck off. “Another idiot trying to get my number, life’s so hard when you’re hot!” The guy would wonder, “What does this asshole want? I’m in hurry!” Then the man would threaten to bust open the dentist’s mouth if he didn’t get lost.
In the end it turns out that their teeth are not clean after all. The dentist hands them a tube of tooth paste that will “clean their teeth properly”, and everybody goes off happy.
So let’s see if this works, the next time I want to please a girl, I’m not going to get her jewelry, I’m going to buy her some tooth paste!
You’re a carioca, huh? That’s cool… I guess. Or something. Are you going to remind me how marvelous your city is?
What is it with all these Brazilians writing me? It’s ridiculous. Where do you people come from and who taught you how to speak “English”? First they took over Orkut, then they took the Olympics, next thing you know, they’ll be taking things as fundamentally American as the hot dog, steak and beer! I would be outraged if I were an American! But I’m not. Frankly, if you brought your bathing suits, your music and your joie de vivre to the US, I wouldn’t complain. Just keep it down while I’m programming!
Anyways, Maria, Maria, Maria…
They’re right, you know. Your English actually is terrible, horrendous even. I don’t know what you want me to do about it. You people seem to have this notion that just because I’m the Master of the Extraordinary, I am simply going to be able to solve your insignificant little problems. Look, I’m not a relationship counselor, or a speech therapist or a witch doctor (not that you’d know if I were…). The point is I can’t make you learn a language magically.
However, if I were you, I would try to improve my English as quickly as possible: watch tv, read books, “make new friends” (Your boyfriend will understand it’s for the greater good). If you still can’t improve your English, just move back to Brazil. I find it hard to believe that any guy would be able to turn down beach, sun and Brazilian-style fun.
Cordially Yours,
The Master of the Extraordinary
PS Qualquer coisa, esqueça do seu namorado e eu vou para Rio com você.
If you too have another idiotic question for the Master of the Extraordinary, I can be reached at talesofextraordinarysanity@gmail.com.
This crazy chick sent me a email so long that I’m going to have to wait to respond until tomorrow:
Dear Master of the Extraordinary,
I am called Maria. I have 20 years old and I come from Rio de Janeiro. I am in love with my boyfriend Matt and it’s one year that I habit at New York living with him. I love USA, but everybody makes fun of me and kid about my English. I don’t know what to do. And USA is really a racist place. When I spik with my accent my friends all make jokes about how I pronounce things and words. The life is really hard and I am worried of leaving my love because I don’t like live in USA anymore. Master of Extraordinary, I need your help, your my only hope. How can I make my English better? I want to be free from mistakes and to stay with my boyfriend. I can understand that at the beginning he was in love with my strange way to speak, but now he starts to be worried and annoyed of my way to speak and write. I embarrass him. Yesterday I was at a Mc Donalds and it took me 5 minutes to order a Cheeseburger because the girl couldn’t understand what I was saying. I went back to the table Matt asked me “why you do cry?” I tryied already everything. Watching movies, reading a lot of books. But nothing, nothing seems to work. In a week we are going to visit Matt’s parents for the first time and her mother doesn’t like me at all. I want to be even with that bitch. She doesn’t like me because she think that I am with Matt only for the green card. Who wants to live in this country with all this mean people. I want to go back in Brazil where my family is, and they love all of us, my and Matt. But Matt doesn’t speak Portuguese. Master of Extraordinary what can I do? You thing there is a solution for me?
My father would kill me if he saw me right now. And my mother would cry. She had two cousins that ruined themselves with this. One of them was also called Simone. It’s nice to know that I wasn’t named after him. He died of heroine. Or was it a car accident? Or maybe both… I don’t remember. The other one apparently lost his entire fortune at the casino. It only took a few months for him to accumulate a huge debt with the local loan sharks. One day he simply vanished. Probably he ran off to Brazil or another one of those gorgeous countries in South America. My mother loved that cousin. She knows what gambling leads to.
And yet here I am, my first time at a roulette table. So I take it easy; I lay my cigarettes next to the ash tray, and I point to the 10 on rouge. I win. A black guy, that looks like he spent at least twenty years of his life inside casinos, asks me, “Hey dude, may I have a cigarette?” I am glad to offer a cigarette to a fellow player. After all I am winning. So I play again, twenty bucks on 2nd 12s. I win again. A young guy, who appears to be about eighteen and looks like he has smoked pot since he was twelve, asks me for a cigarette. I am winning, “Of course, here you are.”
“Where are you from?” “I am from Italia.”
“Oh Italy! Italy is wonderful, I always wanted to go and visit Madrid…” I hesitate for a second. This is one of those things that pisses me off about the US. Not only are people under twenty one not allowed to legally drink, but they are allowed to enter into this temple of sin and perdition! How the hell could you think that Madrid is in Italy!?!?!
“Yes, I love Madrid, I go there once month if I can.”
“Yeah, I bet you do, bro!”
“But if you ever go to Europe, I suggest you go to Berlin, France. It’s gorgeous. And my brother told me that Rome in Austria is wonderful!”
“Thank you bro, I really appreciate it.” There is no need for me to say that I lost all of my money that evening.
This week TES is proud to bring you for the first time ever, a real-life flesh and blood guest columnist! He hails all the way from the southeast of Brazil and was crazy enough to submit us a column! (If you too would like to write for TES, you can send us your submission at talesofextraordinarysanity@gmail.com.) We’ll try not to laugh too much.
