For the last few years, I’ve had a semi-regular feature at my blog, Malaka Of The Day. I’ve never done it daily but it has a nice ring to it. You’re probably asking yourself: what the hell does malaka mean? It’s Greek for wanker or jerk-off BUT it conveys so much more. It’s the primary cuss word in the Hellenic vocabulary: the equivalent of dropping a nuclear strength f-bomb.
So, I’ve decided to import this feature to First Draft but I’m going to try very hard to do it regularly on either Friday or Saturday. I hope nobody intends to hold me to that promise but if you do there’s lots of malakatude out there.
For the first Malaka Of The Week, I considered mocking someone who’s important like Bad Max Baucus (D-Insurance Industry) but changed my mind after watching the season premiere ofSurvivor. There’s anodious Texan by the name of Russell H whose strategy involves sabotage and extreme mendacity even bySurvivorstandards. He makes Richard Hatch look like Mary Pickford, the Virgin Mary or Mary Richards in contrast. That’s a whole lotta Marys. Hail, yes…
Of course, lying is as common onSurvivor as it is in the halls of Congress or on Fox News but Russell H has plumbed new depths of malakatude. In order to gain sympathy from his young and gullible new tribe mates, he claimed to be from St. Bernard Parish and to be a Katrina/Federal Flood, um, survivor. He claimed to have ridden out the storm in his house with his faithful dog. His story was a real tearjerker: the dog drowned and he was forced to retreat into his attic with an ax. The problem is that none of it was true. Malaka Russell is from Houston and has never been to Da Parish. I knew right away he was a lying sack of shit because of his twangy, Texany accent. People from Da Parish have the classic yat accent, which for the uninitiated among you, sounds like Brooklynese or like Pauly Walnuts fromThe Sopranos.
This is as low as anyone can sink. Playing on people’s best instincts for personal gain is the essence of malakatude. Russell H should not only loseSurvivorhe should be locked in a room with a group of angry and bitter survivors of the real storm and flood. They’d make short work of this pudgy, ugly Texan malaka.