Viqi French Fever

Miss Patti: (Not) On My Own

2006-03-29T04:07:00.000-08:00

It seems peculiar, some of the media coverage Patti LaBelle's receiving surrounding a meltdown she had on-stage at a jazz fest in Riviera Beach, Florida. It's unfortunate that poor weather and scheduling broke the diva's voice -- and therefore, her spirit. But it happened, she'll rest up, not a big deal, right?

Wrong. Now a new, surprising angle has cropped up with this seeming non-issue... Now the mayor of the town is freaking out about what his people "did" to Patti.

"It's a black-eye for the city," Mayor Michael Brown rants, putting the organizers on full blast. City Council's coordinating a big meeting to analyze what went wrong with the show to trigger Patti's break-down.

Is this the sort of thing your elected officials usually get involved in? Personally, I like a mayor who can fix a school system or a tight job market. But a jazz concert? I don't know.

After Project Runway: 'Inner Ahhhndraes' unleashed

2006-03-21T03:50:00.000-08:00

Some would call it a "Make it work" attitude, but I'm going to start considering it one's inner Ahhhndrae. As in the magical personality of Andrae Gonzalo from Project Runway.

Inner Ahhhndre is the Say Whuuuut? quality that oozes from two of the Project Runway faves -- up-and-coming designer Santino Rice and the show's mentor/co-host Tim Gunn -- in these interviews. If you too "are addicted," get your fix -- that fashion dope -- here:

From Tim's two Q&A interviews:

Famous people love the show, too. I recently interviewed Beyoncé and she’s a fan.
I heard about Meryl Streep through Bravo, and I’ve had dinner with Sarah Jessica Parker twice.
Tim Gunn's in The Advocate

Name one thing you have in your house from your childhood?
Mr. Wee, a floppy stuffed animal [giraffe-like] covered in the upholstery of our living room couch at that time. Considering that he's my age, it's remarkable that he's only missing a leg.
Tim Gunn in the Chicago Tribune.

From Santino's riotous Q&A interview:
What's up between you and Jay from last season? Do you consider yourself a much better designer? And much funnier. On every level, just more. And that'll come across really nice, I'm sure. Hahaha.
Santino in the Village Voice.

Project Runway had such a colorful cast of characters last season. Every personality somehow engaging, many of them quirky.

I have an idea for a reality show, but I'll never tell! It's not anything I'm about to pursue. But someday I'm sure I'll see it TV and I'll delight in the fact that I had the same vision and could have made millions. But I was busy blogging about it, instead of "Making it work"...

Want more? Project Runway

Bonita. Bonita. Bonita.

2006-03-15T10:00:00.000-08:00

I try not to do too much of this, as it can be dangerous. But: I've been thinking... Yup. It started with a post the other day where I mentioned that ominous line by George Clinton, who asked in the party anthem of the seventies, "Are you hip to Easter Island?"

So today when I saw that Easter Island was in the news, I went in search of a Mothership Connection.

I read a couple stories about Easter Island, first about scientific theories for why its original inhabitants -- the makers of these statues -- became extinct. But one article in particular made me think of two friends from the past. Both of these guys had confided that they were from another planet.

Now, don't ROFL. I'm not saying these people were 100% locked and loaded; both were quite, umm, unconventional. Both happen to be from Philly. (Maybe that's the epicenter of this ET invasion.) They didn't know each other, and I met them years apart.

Anyway, here's what gave me the flashback about these guys. It's from explorer Francis Maziére's book, chronicling his 1963 stay on Easter Island. Maziere studied the island, its history and people and may have inspired George Clinton and others by writing this:

When we were in camp we used to have long, anxious conversations by night as we gazed not only at the blazing stars but also at the artificial satellites that often passed overhead. We were told certain things ... that seem to me to be of terrible importance. I write them in the order that I [was told them by the Easter Islanders]:

The inhabitants of Jupiter have settled the concordance of the planets.
The first planet that men will come to know is Venus.
Our bodies cannot withstand more than two months on the planets.
All the planets worship the Sun.
Not many stars are inhabited.
Among us there are people whom we cannot see….
The current and the light of Venus are produced by the air.
Two planets, Jupiter and Mars, have no natural electricity: they are like the Earth.
There are no winds.
Only our Earth has men of different colours.
There is only one Sun, and no-one can live on it.
There are people living on the Moon.
There is one planet that has no vegetation and no earth; it is made up of water and rocks alone.
The sort of human beings who live there are different, and they are born in the water.

Are the people who tell us such things certifiable? Stoned? Or really looking for our leader?

I don't land squarely on either side of the question. I just like tripping off the fact that no one seems to have indisputably figured out extraterrestials. Really, we're all like A Tribe Called Quest. You know, in the intro for Bonita Applebaum? Where Q-Tip begs in that frail, helium-ish voice, "Can you let me know? Right now, please?"

Space, the final frontier. Not just knee-deep.

Isaac Hayes: 'Chef' has left the kitchen

2006-03-14T06:15:00.000-08:00

Holy Hamburger! Soul music legend Isaac Hayes is putting away his beloved pots 'n' pans. That's right: Ike is done with the animated series South Park, on which he's voiced the character 'Chef' for so long. He cites frustration with religious insensitivity for his departure.

A devout Scientologist, the hot-buttered Oscar Award winner for the Theme From Shaft says "growing insensitivity toward personal spiritual beliefs" in the media has his ire, including the recent controversy over cartoons depicting the Prophet Mohammad. He doesn't specifically criticize South Park's content, but part of the show's charm is its penchant to "go there" on just about any subject.

Ike has taken a thought-provoking stance. We really do need a paradigm shift -- or something -- on our religious outlook in America. We seem increasingly at odds with the notion of religious tolerance on which the nation was founded. We too easily make light of others' beliefs. But the reality is, warring between those of differing religious ethos is not at all a new phenomenon.

Other bloggers say: South Park Black Music Black Blogs

Chuuch: Bush Policy Pimp Busted for Boosting

2006-03-12T15:02:00.000-08:00

Another Sunday, another sermon. So sorry, but this hymn bares repeating: You know it's hard out here for a pimp. Because I recall seeing this Republican one

Claude Allen

swagging on camera at the White House with President Bush and Karl Rove. I didn't know his name or role with the Bush administration then, but we all know more about Allen now than I'm sure he'd like: Mack Daddy was busted in a suburban D.C. department store for alleged theft.

The store says that Allen, owner of a million-dollar home in Maryland, boosted merchandise valued at $5,000, then tried to return it for the dough.

{{{ Can you say mortgage in Neverland? }}}

But I could be wrong. Could have just been gear for putting hoes down.

Until this scandal unravelled over the past few weeks and he resigned, Mr. Allen was an Assistant to the President for Domestic Policy. A legal eagle/strategist who helped craft and promote a couple little policies we -- the Hoes of America -- don't care for, such as anti-safe sex and anti-abortion.

Little wonder, though. I've read about Mr. Allen's church. At his Covenent Life Church, they get down speaking in tongues, make up all of their own songs, and like for women to stay in their place. Like a pimp.

Wait: They make up all their own songs?! No "Ship of Zion"? Not even an Eye On the Sparrow? Well, I bet they know this one -- er'body does:

You know it's hard out here for a pimp

When he tryin to get this money for the rent

For the Cadillacs and gas money spent

Because a whole lot of bitches talkin' shit

First Cheney's shot heard round the world; now this. Er'body just gangsta.

Other bloggers speak: Claude Allen Democrats Black blogs

Another World

2006-03-11T05:56:00.000-08:00

It's a different world, for sure.... The other day, I heard a radio DJ ask his listeners a question that really sparked my imagination. This was the question: Which Hip-hop artist do you feel has the absolute worst endorsement package? You might think the clothes are wack. You might feel the product's too commercial. Or maybe you consider the corporate sponsor too low profile for that particular artist.

Lord, times sure have changed. I remember when endorsement packages were as foreign a concept to African American artists as the need for heat in hell. But that's hardly the case today.

Now here's where the concept got deep: I started imagining some of the old school artists who missed out on "endorsement opportunities." Wouldn't you have loved these lucrative mega-deals showcased by big-azz billboards in the 'hood?

Don't just DO it. Let's get it ON!

Make ya' wanna do right. Make ya' wanna do wrong...

If there's a cure for this, I don't want it.

I'm Chiquita Banana and I'm here to say...

Lip-syncing to Paula Abdul: "Girl you know it's true..."

So Stay In School, Bitch!

Are you hip to Easter Island?

Good morning, Heartache.

Look like-a, like-a Sex Machine. Hair movin'. Groovin.

It's hard out here for a shrimp

2006-03-06T06:45:00.000-08:00

Why is The Establishment so aghast about "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" winning the Oscar for Song of the Year? As Jay-Z says, "Ladies is pimps, too. Gone pop ya' collar." In other words, why are some taking the message of the song so literally? Everyone with a little something going on in their lives is a pimp, and it's never easy. For further explanation of modern day pimpin', see the White House. See the oil industry. See Hollywood. See, Donald Trump. See Lil' Kim and Martha Stewart. See, if you ain't pimpin', you shrimpin'. This is just the American way.

Hezekiah Walker speaks...

2006-03-03T04:41:00.000-08:00

Internet rumors can be so vicious, spreading destruction worse than wild fire. Which is why, when I received all of those emails about watching Jamie Foxx's special to spite NBC, I didn't forward them. Mere hours later, NBC and Jamie's publicist were quoted putting that divisive story to rest.

Now, the rumor mill is spinning out of control about Hezekiah Walker. It's taken him a while, but finally he has spoken in an attempt to combat what's being spread around the Internet (and elsewhere) regarding his sexuality.

I don't know the man, but want to believe him when he wrote this in a letter to the people of his church:

... The Satanic E-Mail and rumor is a sure sign that this is our Year of
Increase. If the enemy is going to get me, he must come better than a
transvestite and a blonde wig. As for all of the haters, I'm not taking a step down, but a step up. I refuse to let this distract me so don’t you become distracted. Always remember: never chase a lie, because the truth will prevail...

Well, the letter doesn't deny everything. But at least he's trying to clear up the type of attire his alleged lover wears...

Had no clue Katrina would be huge...

2006-03-02T05:33:00.000-08:00

Trick, get off me

2006-02-27T13:49:00.000-08:00

2000 zero zero party over, oops, out of time!

You go, New Orleans. Party like it's 1999, pre-Katrina. Get your King Cake on. Catch you some throws. Do it Big Willy style. Mardi Gras is headline news like never before. I've never seen so many of the neighborhood parades on TV.

I'm waiting, though, for glimpses of the legendary Zulu Parade.

So here's a shout to all the people of New Orleans. You've been through a lot and still have quite a haul to go. Hope you're enjoying the spirit of your beautiful celebration wherever you may be.

A special holla at the 504 Hip-hop community. Master P. Juvenile. Lil Wayne. Hot Boys. Chopper. Mystical... Many of y'all showed up in the aftermath of Kat. Hope the city lifts a light for your contributions and support in ways that make you feel real special.

Madea's Family Reunion: All finger-lickin' good

2006-02-25T07:42:00.000-08:00

You've gotta love Tyler Perry, whose Madea franchise just keeps blossoming as remarkably as a rose through cracked concrete. His Madea's Family Reunion, which opened yesterday, does not disappoint. Perry dialed up the casting and writing several notches in this one, and the soulful soundtrack is a must-have for my money, with lush cuts by Rachelle Farrell, Chaka Khan, Bill Withers, Al Green and others who can really sang.

Family Reunion strikes an awsome balance of comedic Madea moments versus, this time, a scandalously thought-provoking story line. Well, it's really the same story line, but there are dark, new underpinnings notably presented by Lynn Whitfield's character. (If you loved her Fatal Attraction persona in Thin Line Between Love and Hate, do not miss her in Family Reunion.) I felt a little like Dr. Lechter watching Lynn in this movie. Each time she appeared anew on screen, I'd mutter, "Love your suit." (Should've checked the fashion credits. Lynn's apparel was stunning.)

The film delivered on the dramatic tension that made Showtime's Soul Food series so compelling. (It didn't hurt that delicious looking Boris Kodjoe from the series is in Madea.) And the two fresh-faced central characters who played sisters delivered rich performances.

Blair Underwood takes it to the bank as well. He keeps playing these psycho man roles, and I just love it. I can never recall the titles of these indie movies he shines in -- the one where he plays the devil and that other one where he plays the crazed hubby -- but he's got his own Denzel in Training Day repetoire going on in a way that hopefully will win him an Oscar some day.

A well-deserved shout-out also goes to Jenifer Lewis, whom many best remember for playing Tina Turner's mother in What's Love Got to Do With It. Ms. Lewis, with whom I proudly share St. Louis roots, drops hot moments with a bit of a Strange' flair.

Last but not least, I was pleasantly surprised to see the faces of two legendary women in Madea's Family Reunion. I won't say their names so that you might enjoy the surprise, too. But their strong presence pretty much makes this film a treasure for the time capsule.

Bottom line on Madea's Family Reunion? Divas, divas everywhere and not a moment to think. Why? Because you'll be too busy laughing at Tyler Perry and his trifecta of zany characters. This time, surrounded by some of the best African American dramatists around.

Read more: Movies Reviews Tyler Perry Black blogs

Shani Davis: The Father, Son and O.J. Ghost

2006-02-23T06:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit it: I've largely ignored the 2006 Winter Olympics. (Surprised, right?) I've only monitored the Games at low speed and from a distance, catching up only for a handful of the athletes. Primarily, African American speedskater Shani Davis who is from my neck of the woods, the South Side of Chicago.

Universal congrats to Shani, who's made history as the first black to win an individual gold medal at the Winter Games. But what's drawing me into Davis's story more than his achievements are the rumbling subplots that have risen above the cheers.

From my detached seat waaaaay over here in a corner -- as far away from Torino, Italy, as one could possibly be -- it seems that one day, the world heralded Shani the Man for his historic first win. Now, just three or four days later, I'm smelling vilification... Shani didn't run the race that could have helped a teammate break a five-gold-medals record... Shani didn't grin friendly for the NBC interviewer...

Is it my imagination, or is there always some massive hater party thrown for blacks in the spotlight on TV? Oooh: bitchy Omarosa and selfish Randall from The Apprentice. Ewww: Starr Jones this, Starr Jones that. Awww: that no B.S. hunk from Big Brother, or the kid from Real World who slapped the girl...

Now it's Shani Davis's turn in the limelight. So on your mark, get set. Let the Electronic Lynch Game begin. It's as if random black people are paying for the sins of O.J.

Dayum, it's been 10 years since that trial.

Well, if this isn't a throwback to O.J., it's clear that certain African Americans have the Zen ability to morph before the eye of a camera lens. You'd think there was a big uppity green Hulk lurking in each and every one of us, just waiting for our moment in the spotlight.

Hats off, though, to the the PR geniuses who know how to work these Evil Black Person angles. They deserve fat bonuses for so cleverly plussing-up viewership and ad dollars that are sagging.

E.v.e. ruff rydes with African royalty

2006-02-21T05:04:00.000-08:00

This is mind-blowing. I've got a thing for the machinations of African dictators, and apparently so does rap star Eve of the Ruff Ryders. My twisted fascination with these elite power mongers led me to write a manuscript for a suspense novel years ago. In my story, the maniacal son of an African official enters the U.S. rap game as head of a record label. He is evil incarnate to everyone who does business with him, with the exception of a new female artist who has her very scandalous way with him. People suspect that something of the rap diva's Caribbean roots may be at play...

Fast-forward to the here and now. It's as if Eve Jeffries picked up the signal of my story and is living the real la vida loco. She reportedly has been dating Teodorin Nguema Obiang, the son of Equitorial Guinea's wealthy, oil-fueled president.

A 2004 U.S. Senate report found that Washington's Riggs Bank allowed Obiang and his associates to move millions out of government accounts into personal ones, reports the New York Daily News. The American-educated Teodorin holds the position of minister of state for forestry, environment and housing in his country, but reportedly spends most of the time at his mansions in Cape Town, London, Paris and Los Angeles. He also owns TNO Records, which, to date, hasn't produced many records, according to the Daily News.

People say "you can't make this stuff up." But I did -- complete with money laundering through the record label... Not that Mr. Obiang would ever do anything like that with his label. My characters aren't from Guinea, but otherwise, interesting similarities exist.

This news might encourage me to dust off the old manuscript and try to get it out. I don't know what the First Lady of the Ruff Ryder camp has been up to with her international playboy, Teodorin. But if she needs any ideas for how to work her connection to this intriguing family, I've got about 350 double-spaced pages of killer [*wink*] ideas to sell her. Good thing I did the copyright long before reading about this romance today.

I see freaky people

2006-02-18T04:13:00.000-08:00

Ever trip off of your introduction to sex? Did your parents give it to you straight? Or did they send you deviant signals by making up ish like this?

I was about six when I overheard my mother and the lady next door discussing a rape that had occured in a nearby alley. All in their business and trying to keep up, I asked what "rape" meant. This was my mother's way of explaining the concept: "It means a man took a rake and raked leaves off a woman's body." And she demonstrated it -- raking -- so I could really get the picture.
Another time, when the neighbor's son and I rummaged through shopping bags tucked in the back seat of my mother's car, we found some big old, spongy cone-shaped underwearish things. Sort of like this: When she returned to the car, I sat in the back seat waving both of her white, cone-thingys in the air. "Mama. What are these for?" I asked coyly. She broke it down Like a Virgin. "I use 'em to bake cakes," she said, not really making eye contact. My boy and I knew what was up with the bra cups. But why? She hadn't exactly missed the bosom boat. I let her off the hook though.
My friend D's story was whack, too. Her mother warned her about letting a boy stick his "raw meat" inside her. So D. feared any boy who might try to get at her like this: I wonder where D thought the boys hid the ham, say during Geography.
Another childhood friend, R., jogged my memory a few months ago about the hysteria that gripped the girls at our grade school: people we called charm molesters. Heard of them?

...And you wonder why everyone seems uniquely throwed. At least medium-rare.

It's not over till it's ooooo-vah

2006-02-17T05:18:00.000-08:00

You know what Lenny Kravitz said about things not really being over. Which is why false endings are top of mind this morning. For example, the deliciously seasoned pork chops I ate last night have taken on a horrifying life of their own... Similarly, Dick Cheney may be suffering digestive issues, too. 'Cause the veep keeps saying fini about the Harry Whittington shooting incident, but the reality is that some shit just won't go away. You see, journalists with inquiring minds still want to know:

"Were they worried about Whittington's condition? What were the chain of events after the shooting? What exactly happened that night?" Such unknowns have already sparked somewhat far-reaching speculation. While unproven and in some cases unlikely, lack of an official version allows such ideas to gain traction. Several journalists also point to the victim, Whittington, noting that he has not been interviewed by reporters or even released his account of the incident.

Reporters polled by Editor & Publisher still have a million questions, despite Cheney declaring this "case closed."

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Ever have a favorite artist who just can't put out a new album fast enough? Then when finally something new is released, you cop it and feel high unwrapping the CD to give that long-awaited music a listen?

One of the few artists who lift me with anticipation this way is Lewis Taylor, London's #1 neo-soul brother, whose latest work is titled Stoned. And as usual, the music is ooooo-vah! For me, Lewis is a funk-rock-soul combination of Prince, D'Angelo and Mary J. Blige (whom I'd love to hear him burn a duet with). Check out his NPR interview.

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Last but definitely not least, it's getting down to the wire on one of my favorite TV shows, Project Runway. The up-and-coming designer on the far right -- Santino Rice -- is still standing to the astonishment of many viewers, and has got to be singing that Lenny Kravitz song out loud.

If you're into this hot mess of a fashionista drama-rama, too, click this photo:

New Orleans: Bring rubber boots to Mardi Gras

2006-02-16T06:22:00.000-08:00

Like Uncle Sam, New Orleans wants YOU... to come and roll up your sleeves between Mardi Gras parades and sips from those cute little go cups. Writer Debra Cotton filed this entertaining but wholly enlightening piece at EURweb about le bon ton rolle that's about to go down. But she also makes a serious plea for Mardi Gras visitors to help clean up the Ninth Ward.

Silence of the Quails

2006-02-15T04:05:00.000-08:00

Hello, Clarice... Various Republicans are peeling from Cheney like translucent skins from fava beans. According to this Washington Post article, several are openly and unapologetically criticizing the poor judgment Cheney's exercising in the shooting incident of attorney Harry Whittington. It seems increasingly clear that ties to Cheney may cost many GOP re-elections across the country.

With so many finally jumping out of the line of Cheney's fire, I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for the president, who must be tossing and turning at night due to this Silence of the Quails thriller going on around him. Perhaps it's time to clean house. No one likes to admit a mistake or show disloyalty, but the POTUS might consider these perspectives:

Women in disappointing relationships often come to this conclusion: "I can do bad by myself." Men frequently express the sentiment of being dragged down this way: "With friends like this, who needs enemies?"
Drug counselors might admonish Bush for being an enabler, something of an equally culpable party in keeping an addict free to drug.
Even foreign policy guru Brent Scowcroft, who served with Cheney under George Bush, Sr., has said that he doesn't recognize the man who now occupies the vice presidency.

I don't know. But if I were Mr. Bush, I'd consider it time to quit playing "the great big fat person" in this movie. It's getting late and it's just not wise to keep helping those with a habit of lurking on dark and secretive roads.

A Quail in the Bush (aka Fugget about Bush's brain. What about Cheyney's?)

2006-02-14T06:26:00.000-08:00

Naturally, the late night talk show hosts had a field day with Vice President Cheyney's gangsta move, having allegedly shot a hunting companion named Harry Whittington. Hey wait... That tricky little word -- "allegedly" -- hasn't been attached by anyone to this story. What gives? Really. What does the absence of "alleged" mean?

Does it mean, "Yeah I shot dude. What about it? Now get outta my face 'cause many men wish death 'pon me"?

Does this mean that, with the end of his term in sight, Cheyney grew upset when someone shouted "Quail!" Perhaps he assumed that darned Whittington jerk was making a joke about his impending lame duck status, calling him "Quayle" -- as in the legendarily dissed Bush Sr. veep Dan Quayle.

Did Cheyney, all true man, feel threatened in a Brokeback Mountain way? As they'd say in Hustle and Flow land, You know it's hard outdoors for a pimp.

Whatever triggered this shocking tragedy, one thing is apparent: There was a mighty confusion going down. And I don't just mean in them there woods.

Dick Cheyney - The Late Night punch lines

2006-02-13T06:23:00.000-08:00

Just sharing a few snatched thoughts about Sly Stone, Dick Cheyney and the body guard of Busta Rhymes. Nothing very serious. Just stuff...

I haven't read the memoir by Carlos Santana's wife, Deborah, titled The Space Between the Stars. But just read a blurb about her having dated the man of the moment, Sly Stewart of Sly and The Family Stone. I learned of this in the context of a story that said Carlos had not been himself in the days prior to last week's Grammy Awards. Probably because he and Deborah would see her old flame, Sly, there. Even after many years of marriage, some insecurities just never completely go away. Well, Carlos... after seeing Sly on stage in all his lizardry, we doubt you should worry about your beautiful woman slithering away.

The death of Busta Rhyme's body guard is quite disturbing. Another senseless murder in the rap world, and the costly dragging through the mud of another rap star and producer, Busta and Swizz Beats. Sounds like there was an outbreak of hatorade over Swizz's beats. I mean, dude's tracks are killer but dayum. I guess Swizz's beats really are worth their weight in gold, so someone felt robbed of potential riches. Or simply bruised of ego, not having been given one of the man's brilliant tracks. And for this, another widow and fatherless child are made.

Now we know for sure Vice President Cheyney's aim is shot. And so is his friend, lawyer Harry Whittington. How the veep mistaked his bud wearing neon orange gear for a little brown quail is unexplicable. Except my imagination runs wild with possible explanations, as life is so often stranger than fiction. This begs lots of questions. Including, for me, the supposition that this was no accident. Maybe Whittington is the owner of some coveted "beat" that political rock stars would kill to get their war monging hands on... After Googling the victim's name, I learned that Harry Whittington, an old friend of Dubya's, is head of a Texas funeral services organization, S.C.I. And Mr. Bush and S.C.I. are implicated in some questionable FEMA contracts to handle the bodies of Katrina victims. Hmmm, perhaps the plot thickens.

Monday Morning Super-back: An ADD re-cap

2006-02-06T04:20:00.000-08:00

There was a time when I could follow a football season all the way through. But those days are long gone. Now, I only watch the Super Bowl. And even that, I just can't stay properly focused on.

So I enjoyed watching my one, big game of the year last night. And here's why, as enjoyed in my own Adult ADD way:

5. For the first time in a long time, the game was actually better than the commercials. A nice enough number of interceptions and touch downs vs. generally lackluster ads tipped the scale this time, making me watch the old-fashioned way... I stayed put for an entire 60% the game, and for a change, dashed away from the TV for 60% of the commercials.

4. Best commercial I caught was for the Hummer H3, with Godzilla and the Gilla Monster (or whomever those Japanese monsters were). These enemy gigantors came together to duke it out, but wound up dating, doing the nasty, getting pregnant and ultimately giving birth to that Little Monster of a truck, the H3. Isn't love grand, a real gas guzzler... Me love 'em long time!

I also liked the Sprint (phone as dangerous, head-clunking weapon) and Burger King (Buzby Berkley fifties choreography) joints. But let me just say, that Burger King 'King' is the grossest looking character ever. Why would anyone eat anything from the platter of that creepy looking mascot? The Burger King looks like something vying for a starring role in the next horror movie franchise. Move over Freddie Krugger and Jason, the papier macher zombie King has come, looking like Mick Jagger in drag.

The worst ads I caught? The two Ameriquest spots. It's not that they were "horrible." Both were entertaining enough. But as a marketing person, I didn't feel the elaborate set up scenarios were strongly summarized by the ending copy points. I had to think too long about what it was that Ameriquest wanted me, a potential customer, to know about their services. In commercial land, you've got 30 seconds to sell the viewer. So at $2.4 million per Super Bowl spot, it should behoove a marketer to leave a fast and clear understanding of your benefits before the next guy comes up to punt.

3. In the absence of Janet Jackson and her star-spangled mams, I found other sexy tidbits to amuse me. A female announcer talked about a damaged player, that someone was pulling down his pants to tape up his groin. Yummy freaky stuff!!! Now I'm all for women sportscasters, but... this chick almost sounded as if she'd crunch a linebacker for the honor of ripping off that poor man's injury tape. Yeeeeoouuuuch!

2. The Star Spangled Horror. The Saturday Night Live skit predicting this mess was far more entertaining. (Keenan portraying an attitudinal Aretha: You betta think THINK! Think about gittin' me some biscuits!)

The highlight of the actual Star Spangled Banner? Condi Rice in the stands, happily grappling with the notion of whether to do a Janet Jackson. Yes sports fans, Conda-Sheezy was toying with her boob. Oh wait: she was just being patriotic, hand over heart for her country? Well, why didn't the camera show another soul in the stadium with hand-to-heart? Guess that sort of thing has become passe.

1. When I saw Mick Jagger toss what appeared to be a pair of panties back into the crowd -- gasp! -- I realized that a certain, craggly Rolling Stone was no longer equipped to gather moss. But what else would one expect from a 63-year-old, emaciated rock man running an Olympics-sized stage in geriatric Reeboks? And that heebie-jeebie prancing? The English (Burger) King moved like his Depends were besieged by crickets.

Chuuch: Aretha's Super Bowl Boulder Holders

2006-02-05T07:02:00.000-08:00

As they say in Jersey, "Allz I can say is, 'Ree-Ree, please keep your monumental footballs tucked tonight!'" This would be my plea to my all-time favorite singer -- Aretha Franklin, The Queen of Soul -- regarding her complaint about tonight's Super Bowl entertainment line up not adequately showcasing Detroit talent.

Um, Aretha, you're about the biggest thing to ever come out of Detroit (next to the SUV)... So why's your boob all twisted in a silver knot? Isn't there a pre-Game Motown-a-thon or something. (gag!)

I'm sorry, but I long ago OD'd on Motown. I mean, I respect the music of that era -- I'm so glad it existed and influenced the pop culture landscape. But dang:

At some point, we must put down the needle and stop screeching on Cloud Nine.

At some point, we just can't keep putting Mary Wilson in the position of having to catfight Dirty Diana.

And at some point, we must turn Smokey's relentless cooing of the words "Baby, Baby" over to , whose yawn-inspiring writing is filled with more "Baby, Babys" than even Smokey's.

In other words, these people are tired of singing these 40-year-old songs. Almost as tired as some of us are of hearing them.

This is precisely why I was the only person in America who missed the most memorable moment ever in Super Bowl history. I missed Janet Jackson's star-spangled nipple. I'm still numb from the oversight. (Or was it an undersight?)

See, Janet was singing a medley of OLD SONGS right before she and Justin Timberlake popped that infamous !! Because when these same old singers start digging too deeply in the old vault, I take it as a cue to start doing more interesting things. Like monitoring my toenails for evidence of toe jam. Bored stiff and annoyed that old-ass Control was being lip-synched at me, I looked away from the TV for just a moment and -- bloop! I missed tit. I mean, "it!"

So dearest Aretha, do not have an on-air hissy tonight. Try to keep them big ol' Mamma Jammaz outta sight. Unlike with little Janet, the boys on the field do not have helmets hard enough to survive a release of your Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders.

And please do not go all Kanye on us, going off script with shocking statements like, "The NFL president doesn't like ". Or old people. Or whatever. This just couldn't be true.

You're there. And they don't get much older than the blue-eyed soulful Rolling Stones.

So Aretha, recognize:
You're All We Need to Get By!

Note to Mick: Don't you dare unzip your pants! Flashing your wrinkled weeny will not boost your sagging album sales. Don't believe it? Awww , just ask Janet.

PS -- Go Bears!!! (Or whomever.)

The G.O.A.T.

2006-02-03T06:26:00.000-08:00

I attended a wonderful Black History Month event last night. It was a movie screening for a new documentary called "Will to Survive - The Gullah and Geechee Nation." It'll broadcast nationally this month, so check your local TV listing if you'd like to see it.

I'm really quite surprised that so many black folk have never heard of the Gullah or Geechee. Like my family, they are descendants of slaves. But unlike the folk in my 'hood, their communities have retained many of the original African traditions. They're sort of like the Native Americans, but from West Africa.

The land they occupy stretches from the Charleston, SC area to Jacksonville, Florida -- including lots of little islands off the coasts of the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida. The fabulous resort town of Hilton Head was historically Gullah. That is, until real estate developers moved in and turned it into a tourist hot spot. Losing their quaint, coastal land and nearby islands is, indeed, what the Gullah and Geechee expressed concerns about in the "Will to Survive" documentary. They also fear extinction, as their population has dwindled so over the years.

Before attending this event, I mentioned to a number of friends that I'd be seeing this film about the Gullah and Geechee. Two of my friends asked, "The WHO people??"

I found myself lapsing into song to help explain what the heck I was talking about. "You remember that LaBelle song, right? Geechee, Geechee ya-ya nah nah... Creole lady marmalade?"

"Oh!" one cried. "Is that what the hell Patti was talking about? I never knew."

Another said, "Okay. Like the Maroons in Jamaica?"

"Um... yeah," I replied. "Kinda. The Gullah and Geechee do still speak a tongue that has lots of African dialect in it. A pidgin English."

I half expected this one to say, "The Pigeons?! Now I definitely haven't heard of them. Where exactly do they live?"

"Right outside my house, crapping all over on my dang car!" I would have informed her. "Wanna come check 'em out?!"

Anyway, the chieftess of the Gullah and Geechee Nations was in the house. Her name is Queen Quet. What an awesome sister, a well-educated historian and traditional performer who remains committed to advocating for her people. She entered the auditorium singing an old spiritual, then talked a while on-stage in the native tongue (which most couldn't understand) before landing on regular English and telling us about her beautiful people. Queen Quet talked about how they still basket weave and live off the land, net fishing daily for their meals in the Atlantic. I loved the name of one of their charming fishing spots, Nanny Goat Beach.

Somewhere along the line, I realized that an ex-boyfriend, C., from long ago was probably from a Gullah family. His grandmother still lives in Charleston, and I could never understand a single word the gentle old woman uttered. Like the people shown in the documentary, C.'s family was addicted to eating tons of sticky rice with every meal. C.'s momma would freak OUT when her Hummer-sized sack of rice became only one-third full.

So now I feel a little guilty. I blew my chance to help save an entire nation. I should have given this man lots and lots of Gullah babies. Then one of the boys could have grown up and become a rapper. A sensational cross between Sean Paul and Mos Def -- two of the G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All Time) who no one can ever decipher. He'd a been called Lil' Geechee, the gansta rascal.

Coretta Scott King: At last, there's peace for the Queen

2006-01-31T04:37:00.000-08:00

My heart is quite heavy this morning from news that Coretta Scott King, widow of slain civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr., passed away last night in her sleep. What a peaceful, gentle transition to make. After having suffered a stroke last year, Mrs. King recovered enough to attend an annual celebration in her late husband's honor just two weeks ago. She was said to have looked absolutely beautiful at the event, which must have been her final public bow.

There are few more powerful historical images captured on film than a stoic Mrs. King at her husband's funeral. Such a brave face masking so much sorrow. She showed us how to mourn.

Yet she stayed with us; she didn't retreat or wallow. She intensified her march, carrying the torch of equality for which her husband Martin was known. She became a civil rights force in her own right and took a stand for causes such as AIDS and curbing gun violence. In fact, Mrs. King worked on the international front over the decades, inspiring positive change in Latin America, South Africa and beyond.

Today, we wear the mask for you, Mrs. King. In some way, you were a mother and grandmother to us all. We loved the upstanding freedom fighter and astute business woman that you became, establishing and heading The King Center and working for nonviolence. Let the world remember you always, our First Lady of the Civil Rights Movement.

Chuuch: The Naked Truth

2006-01-29T02:37:00.000-08:00

From the Paris riots aftermath and the politically outspoken Ann Coulter to the meltdown of Planet Rock and the eerie rise of New Orleans's once buried saints, today's Chuuch service explores The Naked Truth as Lil' Kim would say, in all its untold glory.

In follow-up to the disturbing riots that racked Paris and other French cities recently, here's a story that touches on the next steps. They call them "colorblind resumes," and as you might expect, there's a bit of anxiety on the part of some employers about this new hiring practice leading to -- gasp -- affirmative action.

Typically, in France, "they throw away the résumés of people who are from bad parts of town which are supposed to have Arabs or blacks," Bebear, 70, said in an interview. "When you have somebody whose name is Mohammed and he lives in St. Denis," a low-income community outside Paris, "you say, 'I won't bother with that one,' and so they don't even answer them."

Hey Bat Fans and manuscript tossers! Did I mention my new pen name: Vicki Vail?

* * * * * * * * * *

Right-wing gangsta chick Ann Coulter "lectures" African American students at Philander Smith College, giving them her version of what Lil Kim would call The Naked Truth...

Coulter provoked boos, especially after she stopped two black men during questions, telling them, "I'm not gonna be lectured to," according to the newspaper account. She also was booed when she said that the crack cocaine epidemic "has pretty much gone away."

* * * * * * * * * *

Put'cha lighters up! It's almost 50 degrees in Chicago today, and it's only January!!!! Never mind, because Houston says this is a really big problem...

One paper (The Washington Post) reports a NASA scientist's alarming research conclusions that the end of the world as we know it is closer than anyone realized. The big clap back that's being caused by global warming must be checked now, the researcher says.

Earth's average temperature has risen nearly 1 degree Fahrenheit over the past 30 years, he noted, and another increase of about 4 degrees over the next century would "imply changes that constitute practically a different planet."

Meanwhile, another paper (The New York Times) reports the Bush administration has asked NASA to silence the above doomsayer. Why? Here's The Naked Truth behind both stories.

* * * * * * * * * *

I wondered about this when Katrina hit, having known about the curious New Orleans custom of burying the dead in above ground tombs. According to this NPR audio file, keeping the saints from marching has, indeed, been a huge problem since the levees broke. Cemetery workers say they haven't come close to rounding up all of the float-away remains and split tombstones.

"It's very emotional," one NOLA resident said. "It's like having to bury your loved ones all over again."

It's unbelievable, the enormity of the untold truths and tragedies that are only now coming to the fore, five whole months after this disaster.

Madea Goes to Jail, but Oprah goes scot free

2006-01-27T07:40:00.000-08:00

Tyler Perry's second outrageous flick, Madea Goes to Jail, is scheduled to put America on lock down in February, and I'm going to be among the guilty doing time in a theater, getting my hee-haw on. But after seeing Tyler on Oprah today, I got an idea. He should call the next one Oprah Goes to Jail. Why? Because she insisted that he close her show by showing the audience how to do that thing. You know, that thing that assaults the senses worse than the smell of tar. That damned dance, the Electric Slide.

Of course, Tyler Perry obliged and led a dozen giddy women in an on-stage Electric Slide-a-thon. It was like "Showtime Over at Harpo." And you know who played Kiki Shephard.

So look out, y'all. There's about to be a tsunami of daytime ladies reinvigorating this maddningly uneventful dance that's obviously beloved by The Big O. She even told the world that whenever black folk get together, the event culminates in the Electric Slide. "Even after funerals," she added.

Huh?! This simply is not true. Makes me wonder who Oprah's hanging out with these days. Is this what she and her friend Gail do when they get bored in her deee-luxe apartment in the sky-y-yie? Move on up off the $30,000 sofa and start sliding across her Italian marble floors?

Lawd, let's hope not! So don't believe the hype, folks. You're being hoodwinked.

Bamboozled.

Isn't this a bit like perpetuating A Million Little Lies?

I think Oprah should devote an entire show to addressing this gross err in judgment. For endorsing this weathered zombie march. She should bring back Tyler Perry and grill him about his ghastly decision to end both of his Madea movies with this square dance. He deserves an electric zap on the wrist for misleading Oprah and her loyal flock of sheep about black life.

I can see Oprah now, having been advised by the NAACP to do damage control. A few weeks from now, she'll have Madea seated beside her and looking upset. (Tyler was too fearful to face the cameras after that Larry King disaster. So he pushed big, bad Madea out the dressing room to hit the sofa this time.) Oprah and Madea are already sweating; the public scrutiny and stage lights are too intense.

"Madea," Oprah will say, "I feel duped. But more importantly, I feel you've betrayed millions of couch potatoes. Those who relie on me to tell them what to read, who to like, and how to dance."

"Looka here, girl, I made one lil' ol' mistake," gray-haired Madea will utter. "But the next movie we make, I'll end with a dance that shows the world what black folks are really doing behind closed doors."

"For real? Which dance?!" Oprah will insist, with eyes wide and sparkling. "The Smurf? Bankhead Bounce? No, I know: The Harlem Shake, right?"

Madea will wave a dismissive hand at the idea of those equally passe (but at least of a recent decade) dances, and rise to her feet. "Get up off of that couch, chile," she'll roar as her bullet-bosom shutters against her wide belly. "Let Madea show you -- and everybody -- the dance we doin' now. We call it the Snap!"

On comes Laffy Taffy, and that big sixties wig flops from the body shocks...

# # #

Article on the Atlanta-originated dance craze: Snapping
D4L's music video, Betcha Can't Do It Like Me, spotlights Snapping.

Will the real Slim Shady PLEASE stand up?

2006-01-20T11:48:00.000-08:00

Hmmm... Are Americans being played like Boo-boo the Fool? As in this Jack-in-the-Box called Osama bin Laden, who conveniently pops up with a new, menacing video whenever the Bush administration calls Maaco. Or Hollywood Central Casting.

Need more money to sink into that five-finger oil discount? Hereeee's bin Laden.

Are the president's poll numbers plummeting? Hereeee's bin Laden.

Americans are outraged about illegal wiretapping? Boi-yoi-yoing: bin Laden magically popped up yesterday. After a year and a month secluded away in "rehearsals."

I swear, this Osama cat seems a cross between Santa Claus and the Boogey Man. Of course we can't find Osama... Perhaps because this Osama. Doesn't. Really. Exist!

The only factor preventing me from crying "They're Wagging the Dog!" is the absence of these two names from Osama's high-profile American shyt list: Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice. This might be a "black thing" that no Cecil B. DeMille would understand. That, or Osama has never considered them real heavyweights in the administration...

Still, will the real bin Shady please stand UP?

Please stand UP...

Please stand UP!

And I've gotta say, in the spirit of the inimitable words that Ray Nagin (unsuccessfully) ripped from George Clinton: "What's hap'nin, C.C.?!"

Can't go digging through my crates right now, but I don't think NOLA pre-Katrina exactly paralleled what Parliament's Chocolate City was about. Wasn't G-Funk rapping about a bit more than D.C.'s majority black population? Wasn't his point moreso about the collective, progressive vibe of the city in those days?

Me thinks the Chocolate City that Nagin vows to resurrect could use some extra cups of the sugar. You see, before Katrina, one of the more powerful images coming out of the Big Easy was that of slain rapper Soulja Slim, whose "boys" stood by his side... Shockingly ripping the extreme ice from his wrist before his body had even turned cold. I'm not saying that couldn't happen today in D.C. or anywhere else. I'm just sayin' some chocolate is too bitter, even for its own.

In other words, many NOLA residents seemed to feel the city needed quite a cleaning long before Katrina broke those levees. So now, it sounds like many families that were flushed by Kat aren't rushing back. By unfortunate default, some may have landed in safer communities, nicer domiciles. Found better school systems for their children. Found hope of comparable or better jobs.

I guess we agree on one thing, though, Mr. Mayor. We do have to look inwardly and take better care of our own. But did you have to go all Pat Robertson on the Mothership to make the point?

So will the real C.C. please stand UP?

Please stand up...

Please stand UP!

Last but not least... What's up with the Condi for President rumblings? Is this just a ruse to knock the wind out of Hilary Clinton, divide and conquer style? Knowing full well the old Republican boys won't support the seating of a sister in the Oval Office. Or a woman, period.

I suspect the lip-licking men of the RNC are somewhere searching for two pairs of ladies' boxing gloves. Eventually, they'll have both chicks in wet t-shirts or a mud box, forcing them to cancel each other out.

This is America, after all. Not England.

Not Liberia.

Not Chile.

Not India.

Not Israel.

Not Finland.

Not Ireland.

Not Germany.

Not even Canada, where the Queen of England has appointed a woman of Haitian heritage as her de facto Commander-in-Chief.

So will our real Madam Champion please stand UP?

Read more: AmericansForRice.combin Laden New Orleans

Martin Luther King: A Dream Is a Terrible Thing to Waste

2006-01-16T06:18:00.000-08:00

This morning, while chatting with the guy who owns the corner grocery store in my neighborhood, a scruffy little girl came in with an older man, whom I assume was her grandfather. She was dribbling the heck out of a lime-green basketball. Like bam...bam... bam... BAM!

The brother who owns the store turned his attention from me a moment, squinted at the girl and said from behind the counter, "Hey! You're not in a gym, you know."

Following his gaze, I turned to look at the kid, who appeared to be nine or ten. She had the delicate brown face of a young Mary J. Blige. Her fuzzy, unkempt hair was trapped in a rubberband with one long braid hanging down the back.

Anyway, she stopped bouncing her ball. She obediently pressed it against her green husky jacket, beneath which fell baggy camouflage-print pants. She stepped a little closer to her old granddad. But glanced sheepishly at me.

I smiled, noticing her thugged-out jewelry. Around her neck was a long, "silver" chain with a spinner emblem dangling at the end. So wanting to smooth over her embarrassment with a compliment I quipped, "You're a real baller, huh? Like that ice, girl!"

The child grabbed the chain and proudly lifted it closer for me to admire. At the same time, the store owner snuck me a glance and quietly said, "Umm... That's a boy..."

Oops... How could it be? I was too confused. I should have shut up, left it right there. But on I chatted -- now wanting to smooth out my own embarrassment. "So you have the day off from school for Dr. King's holiday?" I chimed.

He nodded yes.

I said, "Well, what did Dr. King do? He must have done something mighty important for us to get the day off. Tell me a little something about Dr. King."

"Uhhh.........................." the young gender-bender began verrrrry slowly. The three of us adults waited and waited. The child must have felt like Tupac: All Eyez on Me. "Uhhh..." he continued, "Dr. King did a lot of things............................ He played basketball!!!"

Now I thought the granddad would pass out in embarrassment. And if he hit the floor, he'd have to leave room for my completely dropped jaw.

Basketball?!

One generation more, I realized, and children will barely know the name "Martin Luther King," let alone why they should. Clearly, we're in the midst of an alarming cultural crisis; it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I grappled to justify this child's bizarre reply. Maybe, I rationalized, this kid knows some trivia about Dr. King that I don't. Maybe he attended college on a basketball scholarship or something. And under pressure to answer, this was all the boy could recall at the moment.

Worried about the legacy of Dr. King -- that a 10-year-old today thought The Man was just a friend of Shaq's or something -- I dashed home to hit The Goog Monster. To keep hope alive...

* * * * * * *

On a mission, I opened Google's home page to begin an info search about MLK's b-ball skills. Lo and behold, here's the Google header that greeted me:

It took me a while, but I found this quote by Dr. King's daughter, Yolanda:

... And my dad was really quite a funny man. He was a bit of a cut-up. He was a jokester. He loved to tease, he loved to laugh. He probably could have been quite an athlete as well. He taught me to swim when I was four and taught me how to ride a tricycle and then into a bicycle, and we played basketball and baseball and went to the local amusement park. He and I, the two of us, would ride the dangerous shake-you-up rides, he called them "faith machines." We'd get on them and just have a ball, he was a big kid...

Well, guess that little drag queen told me!

Anyway... here's some other fun stuff that caught my eye about the "big kid" who became The King...

Sounds like Dr. King and his siblings were some bad-azz kids. Their mother had them taking piano lessons for years and they hated it. On numerous occasions, Marty and his brother sabotaged the piano, tried their best to destroy it. His brother took a hammer to the piano keys more than once. To this day, their old house in Atlanta -- now a historic landmark -- displays this very piano. And it is missing teeth.

Another time the King boys unscrewed the legs on the piano bench, praying that when their piano teacher visited again, she would sit on it and wind up crashing to the floor. Presumably she would never come back, having been successfully chased away by these little imps. Apparently, Dr. King's commitment to "nonviolence" would develop late in life.

As a youngster, Jesus wept was his favorite blessing for meals. Only because his belly was an infamous bottomless pit and he wanted to get quickly to Fried Chicken Heaven. So he always kept any grace-saying short and sweet. Cluck and apple pie were among little Marty's favorite foods. The kitchen, they say, was the mighty crumb-snatcher's favorite room in the house.

Guess it's a good thing that snaggle-toothed piano wasn't kept in the kitchen. For had Mama King fallen off that shaky bench while watching her pots, who knows if this child's hide would have been spared to lead a single march.

At the age of about eight, knuckleheaded Marty jumped out of the 2nd floor window. Lucky for us, he went unscathed. The rambunctious child also loved to slide down the banister inside their two-story home. One time, though, little Marty had a Chris Tucker moment: He got knocked the **** out!

I mean, poor Martin Luther rammed his little head into the cellar door, rendering himself unconscious. Three Stooges cuckoo birds aside, I wonder if this is when he first had his famous dream...

So what's the moral of this story?

Never give up on a child. Even the bad-azz, fuzzy-headed ones are full of potential.
Parenting itself may be the greatest "faith machine" in our lives, a double-decade long ride one can only hope to survive.
Even grown folk like us can still learn a thing or two about the heroes we claim to know so well.
And when we get ready to fight for another "black" national holiday, we should take it easy on ourselves. By-pass the great Rosa Parks and just shoot that hoop for Jordan.

"Chuuch"! Five sinful sites for your Sunday delight

2006-01-15T14:57:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday -- Church Day. Or in this case, Chuuch Day, as the Reverend Snoop Dogg would say, preaching from the Pulpit of the Blunted Soul.

So here's an almighty amen to the best blogs and/or posts I've surfed today. Don't bother asking WWJD? (i.e., What would Jesus do). 'Cause He would just click the links below, check 'em each out, shake his head perhaps, but enjoy!

1. At Graffitti - The Writings On the Wall, check out the hilarious post of 1/11/06 titled LSD: The Fountain of Youth.

2. At Hot Ghetto Mess, check out everything. The site if chock full of the most jaw-droppingly funny photos I've ever seen in cyberspace.

3. At Soul Imperialist, there's a surprising and very interesting update on the legendary Sly Stewart of Sly & The Family Stone! It's the 1/12/06 post titled, How Could I Possibly Have Not Heard About This?

4. My girl -- Strange', the legendary Grace Jones -- has what I consider the very best site on the web. Like Grace, the site is an intensely exotic mindtrip. The mood, layout and photography are mesmerizing, and each stunning photo is narrated in her own powerful words. It feels a little like you're sitting in a dark room with Grace, and you're her fascinated psychiatrist -- and she has you strapped to a chair... You're clutching the arms and thinking: WTF?!?! But she's got you so hooked, you wouldn't dare run. Meaning, she lets you deep inside her head, her life and background. So enter at your own risk The World of Grace Jones.

5. Last but not least, if you own a blog, maybe make yourself one of these by clicking the link under the box:

Viqi's Blogging is Artistic and Passionate

You see your blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great.

One moment you may be working on a new dramatic design for your blog...
And the next, you're passionately writing about your pet causes.

Your blog is very important - and you're careful about who you share it with.

What's Your Blogging Personality?

Green Eggs & Ham (hocks)?

2006-01-15T11:09:00.000-08:00

Do you like green eggs and ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like green eggs and ham...

Somebody's having an acid flashback, and I swear it's not me!
It's those mad scientists in Taiwan.
Or maybe the one tripping is the smi-i-i-ling GREEN hocker in the middle here, created by the Dr. Frankensteins over in Taiwan.

Or maybe it's YOUR brain on drugs. 'Cause put 'em under black lights and this is what you get:

Yup! Believe it or not, Ripley, the planet now has its first-ever green, glow-in-the-dark pigs. Green skin, green hearts, green brains, green snouts, green booties, green uhhn!

Something is real wrong with this picture. First the Supreme Court gives Bush the election. Then no WMD in Iraq. Now this: Three little (green!) pigs. This is the real Surreal Life. Only I can't tell who's tweaking the hardest: us staring at the pig, or the one pig laughing at us.

Cross-breeding with jellyfish is what made these piggly wigglies fluorescent this way. This will allegedly aid stem cell research. But didn't these people see Jurassic Park? Keep porking around with Mother Nature, and she will make lunch meat of us! Yeah, that cute one's hamming for the camera now, but come at him with a butcher's knife and that sucker probably turns fatal as a squealing Velociraptor.

Look at 'em, really. Their bodies look a little like this Pit Bull's, don't they?

I'm giving up meat. For real. I ain't eating no ish that might bite back. So again I ask,

Do you like green eggs and ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like green eggs and ham...

Jr. Birdman and Robin: Dynamic duo blow up late-night Batcave

2006-01-14T04:02:00.000-08:00

Borrowing an unforgettable mental hook from my sixth-grade teacher, it was "b-e-a-utiful!" That's how Mr. Irwin taught us to memorize the spelling of the word beautiful. But I'm using it here to describe the amazing Lil Wayne and Robin Thicke performance I caught earlier this week on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno.

I'm hard pressed to recall seeing such a riveting hip-hop performance in a very long time. I mean, these cats -- a most unlikely pair -- grand-scale killed their collabo song, Shooter. I was so impressed that I'm actually considering buying the solo CDs of both artists, neither of whom previously were even blips on my radar screen.

With their steamy, high-energy set on Leno, out both have stepped from their respective anonymity. (In my mind, at least.) They gave the audience grown-up, funk-rock fusion mayhem. A far cry from anything that most of today's rappers (except Jay-Z and OutKast) seem to understand the dynamism of. This rock hybrid, I maintain, is one of the next frontiers that hip-hop should more fully explore.

Having largely ignored everything remotely associated with the Birdman's Cash Money label, it took me many months of hearing Go DJ before I finally "got" Lil Wayne's gravelly, Miles Davis like voice. Once I finally paid attention, I realized his voice is, indeed, quite distinctive in the sea of rap growls and mumbles. Can't say yet that his writing has my soul flipping, but he sure seems to think he's stepped up this aspect of his game, based on this interview... But hey, I dig Seinfeld and N.O.R.E. -- both of which are about absolutely nothing. So even if Lil Wayne's not as clever as Hova, we might still be Friends!

As for Robin Thicke, son of Alan Thick from the sitcom Growing Pains, I vaguely recall a song he released several years ago. I also vaguely recall liking his singing chops. Whatever. Point is, Robin Thicke definitely gives it up blue-eyed soulfully on this Shooter track with Lil Wayne. What a voice! Reminds me a bit of my #1 guy from London, acid jazz prince Lewis Taylor. Or Kenny Loggins.

Apparently, Shooter was originally Thicke's song. Perhaps this is why he drops his intro verse and the hook so sublimely. See how good it is to share? Now, thanks to his making space for this rap guy, more music lovers of the universe will know and appreciate them both.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that Robin Thicke's now signed to the Neptunes' Star Trak label. If Pharrell and Chad can do for him what they helped Justin Timberlake do in terms of solidly cross-over, I will gladly cop Thicke's CD when it drops in February.

Correction: I really like pop star Justin, but hopefully the Neptunes will keep Robin in the more mature, neo-soulish arena his sensuous voice seems to beg.

For more on Robin Thicke, check out his Vibe.com interview by blogger Clay Cane here.

And don't miss this dynamic duo's instant-classic Jay Leno video at 3030Media.net. I can't imagine that Jay-Z and The R. will ever collaborate again. So for my money, this Lil Wayne and Robin Thicke jumpoff qualifies as the Best of Both Worlds part 2.

Another Alito super fly: Yale's Ronald Sullivan

2006-01-13T10:52:00.000-08:00

I wrote earlier about Professors Liu and Tribe, two strong dissenting voices who've testified against the nomination of Samuel Alito for Supreme Court Justice. Now add to that distinguished list Professor Ronald Sullivan of Yale -- originally a Morehouse College man -- whose impressive (and alarming) Alito white paper and televised testimony you can see here: Jamestown Project at Yale.

* * * * * * *

Many legal and Constitution scholars who supported the nomination of now Chief Justice John Roberts firmly oppose Samuel Alito for the Supreme Court. So the troops are mounting. The Democrats will likely delay the vote on Alito, to buy additional time to pressure the White House to send up a more moderate nominee. A STOP ALITO ad campaign already has been produced by the Leadership Conference on Civil Rights. And they are but one vocal group that's gearing up to loudly protest Alito's appointment with marches and other activist projects across the country.

One of the protest organizers says that Alito on the Supreme Court threatens to "set America back seven decades on individual rights." If this projection is correct, get ready to:

-- Clam up about what you say on the phone and Internet, as privacy may no longer be a right you can expect,

-- Get your hysterectomy now if you possibly may need birth control or an abortion in the future, because Alito long ago found a Constitutional loop hole to do away with both,

-- Don't do anything that'll tick off a cop. Because if they kill you on a humbug, Alito will rarely have your family's back in court,

-- Assume the promotion you just can't get at work is because you're worthless and incompetent, because Alito rarely will agree that minorities and women are treated differentially,

-- Forget your aspiration to a seat in Congress unless you drinking ultra-conservative kool-aid. Because you may not be empowered to make a meaningful difference benefitting your constituents the way that congress members do today.

To read more: Alito Democrats Supreme Court

Goodwin Liu & Laurence Tribe: The super flies in Alito's ointment

2006-01-12T15:03:00.000-08:00

Having listened closely to 90% of his testimony, I grappled with exactly what I sensed was skewed with the judicial disposition of Supreme Court nominee Samuel Alito. As of yesterday evening, I grappled no more. For along came the smooth but very fierce Goodwin Liu, assistant professor of law at UC-Berkeley, to articulate Mack Daddy-style what I'd been sensing.

Naive me: I'd concluded that Judge Alito -- in an attempt to be incredibly well reasoned -- simply plays it so by the book that plain ol' common sense sometimes flies out the window.

However Professor Liu, a former clerk to Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg, described Alito this way: ... Every case is different, and I'm sure Judge Alito got it right many times. But let me give three examples that show his instinct, I think, to defer to government power...

Instinct being the operative word. This New York Times article reprints Prof. Liu's opening statement from his testimony before the judicial committee. What I found most explosive was Liu's recounting Alito having sided with law enforcers killing an eight-year-old purse snatcher who ran from the authorities -- was not at all confrontational or a threat. Alito, he said, came down in support of the killing of this unarmed, African American child. Why? Because to have done otherwise would have set a precedent that could trigger coast to coast the overturn of past rulings on killing crime suspects who were unarmed and nonconfrontational. Whoa...

Prof. Liu seemed to have ticked off the Republicans by challenging Alito's civil rights record. After all, two African American lawyers testified yesterday, both saying they viewed Alito as having high integrity and admirably following the letter of the law. Which does not mean all that they intended it to. To me, their support of Alito could simply mean the man is well-mannered and collegial. Which has nothing to do with a penchant to move stealthily betwixt and between some of our shaky laws, depending on his agenda.

Picking up this morning where Liu left off was Harvard Law rock star Laurence Tribe. Considered one of the foremost authorities on Constitutional law, Prof. Tribe urged the committee not to cast their Alito votes as if in a Kubric movie: with "eyes wide shut." Tribe told the senators exactly how Alito had side-stepped their questions on abortion rights and executive power. He told them all the legal loop holes that Alito knows about, but certainly didn't mention in his testimony. Stuff the rest of us -- layman and senators alike -- would be too, umm, legally challenged to catch.

If the very fierce Prof. Liu ticked off the Republicans, I think the positively brilliant Prof. Tribe shook them the hell up. (snap!)

Professor Tribe told the senators precisely how Alito could help the high court usurp their power, giving a president a blank check to nullify their egotistical voices -- Republican and Democrat alike...

Now I imagine Senator Arlen Specter & Co. dig Bush and Cheyney, but they've got to be a little worried about this new Supreme Court possibly bending them over to become their butt boys. Alito's fuzziness on the checks and balance piece and executive power ought to give them all pause.

I could be wrong, but I sensed some of the Republicans looking a little like doe caught in the headlights of a Mac truck once Laurence Tribe spoke. They'll all vote yea for Alito, no doubt. But I seriously doubt all of these votes will be cast with 100% confidence, thanks to Tribe's call on congressional conquest.

I'll blog more on the Alito hearings later today. But if you want more right now, click here: alito

Flavor Flav-o-gram, ma'am?

2006-01-11T20:57:00.000-08:00

Lord, what's the world coming to? Tuesday night I had Public Enema #1 -- reality TV star Flavor Flav -- unloading a lotta Yeah, Boyeeee in one ear. In the other was V.F.F. commenter, Udaman, all but calling Bill Clinton a serial killer. Well, neither was literally "in my ear." But both left hilariously rotten impressions. In a "I don't believe this #*$@#&!" sort of way...

Re: Flavor Flav -- For some unknowable reason, I watched his VH1 show, Flavor of Love. What was astonishing is that Flav seemed to be one of the saner characters on the set (but for his head-spinning attire). Point is, the show is sort of like The Bachelor, with a cadre of stripper-type chicks vying for his... clock? Never in life have I witnessed a more psychotic bunch of hookers. Just when I knew which of these demonic dames to hate, along came another whose pathology clearly superceded unsavory vixen #1's. This one on the right seems about ready to burn the bunny of the gold (teeth) digga with the flora in her Yaki.

If you like the train wreck that is Being Bobby Brown, you'll love Flavor of Love. It's eerily better. I mean worse. I mean better because it's so much worse... Fantastically horrific it is, in its dizzying pole dance toward Jerry Springer-ish fist fights. But over Flavor friggin' Flav?!

If you don't believe the hype, just set your my neck-clock to catch the sleezy show next Tuesday night.

Then, in an effort to detox from Flav's intriguingly gutter show, I popped online and found a comment left by Udaman... Thanks, U-man, for letting me know about the 9/11 documentary I was unable to view, but really: That Bill Clinton conspiracy site you directed me to is nuts.

No joke, the site lists over 40 entries of "mysterious deaths" in which the author tries to implicate my man Clinton. I swear, people can publish all manner of lies on the Internet. I laughed out loud when the author implied that Bubba C. was somehow involved in Ron Brown's death. This I rate right up there on the laughometer with the military having bombed the New Orleans levee.

Sorry, U-man, but I just can't buy it. This ever flavorful, old white chocolate boyeee is many things, but come on... A serial hit-orderer? The way I see it, if Monica Lewinsky's still alive, the man is likely fairly harmless. Besides, Bush has a lot more blood on his hands in Iraq alone, never mind the theories out there about 9/11.

Alito: Catching the Kennedy curse

2006-01-11T12:12:00.000-08:00

Every now and then, I can smell a bold faced lie. Clearly, Senators Joe Biden and Ted Kennedy are smelling something extra funky, too, with Supreme Court nominee Sam Alito. The man is full of it, and here's how the good senators (and I) know it...

At the core of one of the hot issues -- one which led Kennedy to boldly step on the toes of Republican chair Arlen Specter -- is Judge Alito's membership in a prestigious Princeton U. alumni group. Problem is, the group is widely known to have discriminated and actively campaigned against women and minority admissions in the eighties.

Alito claims he "just can't recall" being a member of this bigoted alumni group... Yeah, right. Funny, he ain't forgot ish else throughout the entire hearing. I swear, the man knows on which side Abraham Lincoln's bic was flicked on that fateful night at Ford's Theater.

And that Joe Biden: gotta love 'em (for president). Biden eventually grew fed up with Alito's dancing. He essentially flat-out asked the judge if he'd put a mention of this club on his resume/application because he hoped it would signal the Reagan White House that he was their kind of a no blacks/no women guy. It was a shocking and dramatic moment.

Thing is, I just updated my own resume. So the exercise is very fresh in my mind about how we agonize over what to add/delete before letting a potential employer see it. So we're to believe the man sent a resume to President Reagan's people, not at all sure what he had in it? Okay, maybe he didn't proof it. Or perhaps he lied and was never a member. Something's rotten here, and the Dems rightly want to know what's up.

Perhaps the Democrats have been working on their resumes, too (as well they should, since being sound asleep after 9/11!). Because showing some gumption for a change, Ted Kennedy subpoenaed the Library of Congress for the alumni group's records. He'll be looking for an indication of Alito's level of involvement in the offensive group. Oh, the Kennedy curse this may place on Alito's nomination.

This is good stuff. Primarily because it turns out that the Washington Post analyzed Alito's record on workplace discrimination cases and his marks are horrendous. Most judges rule for the little guy 50% of the time in these cases. But not Alito. He only sided with these plaintiffs in eight out of 100 cases. This screams volumes about his mind set. He either doesn't get what racism looks like, or espouses it.

Also, the way the Democrats are gnashing this man's hide makes me believe they fully intend to pimp-slap GW with an impeachment trial over the wire-tapping. Dem Senators Durbin and Leahy turned Alito's backside every which way but loose about his views on executive power vs. the Constitution. Reading between the lines, I'd say they know that if Alito makes it to the Supreme Court, there's no way in heel the court will admit the wire-tapping was possibly unconstitutional. It'll be another Bush vs. Gore election-type vic.

And meanwhile, the Republicans and their light-loafered questions are making their part of the hearing feel like the Oprah & Gail King Show. They intentially wasted lots of time just chatting at Alito, to use up time -- giving Alito a low-pressure break to regroup from the Dems' badgering. When they finally asked the judge a question, it was always like a delicate invite to take another stab at better explaining an answer the Dems had previously crucified him on. So much b.s.

Gotta commend the Democrats for mounting a serious effort to take back control of things -- EVERYthing -- today. Alito needs to go the way of Harriet Meyers. But fast and butt first.

Read more: Alito

9/11 Conspiracy Documentary

2006-01-09T08:37:00.000-08:00

Loose Change by Alex Jones. I tried to watch this hour-long, online conspiracy film about 9/11, but have lost patience with my computer's buffering fits and starts.

If you check out this documentary, please let me know what you learn. You can click the above title to go directly to it, or copy 'n save this address to see it later: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2023320890224991194

Wait a minute, Mr. Postman

2006-01-08T07:00:00.000-08:00

I love the United States Postal Service. Sometimes they feel like my only friends in government. The tax man sure don't love me. And my congressman still hasn't responded to my little love note about impeachment. But my postman and woman? They faithfully show up -- come rain, shine, sleet or on aching feet in snow. Often with a smile.

In return, all they've ever asked of me (until today) is thirty-seven measley cents per letter that I mail. For that paltry sum, they deliver my well-wishing cards to loved ones and relectant personal checks to creditors thousands of miles away. Note: If I wanted "me" delivered merely across the block, no taxi driver would ever take it this easy on my wallet.

So today, as the USPS hikes the price of first class postage to thirty-nine cents, I'm licking my new two-centers with a smile. Postal services seem to be the only necessities we purchase today that still offer us real value. They show up for us more reliably than some of our family members seem to. In fact, we should be so appreciative of postal workers that we shouldn't do much bill paying online. (We must protect their jobs! Some of these folks are latent killers, so who wants them working where we work?)

A few years ago I completed a survey issued by the USPS, whereby I was asked to give my assessment of their service. I gushed, told the USPS I was their biggest fan. Even urged them to please contact me if they ever wanted a satisfied customer to star in any advertising extolling their virtues.

Much to my dismay, no one ever followed up on my testimonial offer. I guess they were too busy sorting out my blasted bills... Which they're never too busy to stuff in my mailbox. Every single day, like clockwork (except on Sundays, thank you Lord).

Now, I'm not saying they're perfect. Turns out they lose my ish a lot. My postman is very social, I've noticed, chatting up all of us neighbors on his route. Probably accidentally dropping my mail in the sewer or snow. Or wiping remants of secret sauce from his ever-flapping lips with my Sears bill after lunch. But that's okay. With Sears's postage money, he can act as postal as he wants, get mad and toss every last bill in the gutter.

... Hey wait a minute, Mr. Postman: I'm picking up enormous late fees on this MIA stuff. So, love ya', but for this extra two cents, I need my Sears bill here on time.

Lou Rawls: Ever kicking it on Tobacco Road

2006-01-07T07:07:00.000-08:00

I knew this day would come -- the day when I'd shed tears because an entertainer had died. It never occured to me that it would be Lou, though. Not Luther, not Rick, but Lou. The death of the incomparable Mr. Lou Rawls wrenches my heart.

Why Lou? Because his phenomenal Tobacco Road was the first jazz song I heard as a child, and it turned me out, practically jacked me by the collar and stopped me in my little tracks. Touched my young soul. I'll never forget that day, hearing that fine as wine baritone voice sort of "preach" atop that sparse, creeping bass line. All wafting ominously from a tinny radio in my friend's mother's pitch black bedroom. I tiptoed past that dark room slowly: I'd never heard music as halting as that and was compelled to consume as much as I could. I suppose that was the moment I was first exposed to something in life called "coolness." Loved it!

Years later, I heard another Lou Rawls hit: Your Good Thing's About to Come to an End. Here again, I was knocked out by that smooth, accessible voice and that earthy passion delivering such a potent message to an unappreciative lover. Not that I was old enough to actually have a "lover." But whenever I got one, thanks to cool Lou, I'd know better than to be a pathetic beggar for unrequited love.

Many many years later, I actually met Mr. Rawls in Los Angeles. I was handling PR for a corporation that supported his "Lou Rawls Parade of Stars," a longstanding telethon benefitting the UNCF. The man felt like a close family friend. Like one of the fun-spirited gentlemen who played Bid Whist with my folks every weekend. Lou's personality was as warm and familiar as butter melting on piping hot toast. I didn't sense one iota of that disdainful "Baby, I'm a star" mentality. I had immense respect for him, for his commitment to helping make all of those scholarships happen for students. You can't name one other celebrity whose very face symbolizes anything so important in the African American community.

By then I was living in Chicago, Lou's hometown, and not very far from that once-bustling avenue in the 'hood he made famous: Tobacco Road. (Officially, it's 47th Street. But around the world, it's affectionately known to jazz and blues lovers as, well you know...) Still haunted by that smokey classic, I purchased Lou Rawls's double CD anthology a few years ago, to listen closely to Tobacco Road. It's a poignant tune about a place Lou hates and loves at once.

From an aural perspective, that cool, creeping sound still magically whisks me away to an undefinable space. But now that I'm older, I can actually identify with Lou's lyrics, his torn sentiments about the humble place that'll always be home. Deep, universal stuff.

Turns out there would be numerous other goodies by Mr. Rawls that would bring me pleasure. Among them are Scotch and Soda, The Blues Is a Woman (in a tight black dress), and St. James Infirmary. Of course, there are many radio hits to his credit, but I'm moreso loving the jewels that you'd never hear on-air today.

Well... job exceptionally done, Mr. Rawls. Tonight I just may hit a neighborhood bar near Tobacco Road and join others in The Chi who're surely celebrating your remarkable life with a little Scotch and Soda.

Syriana: It ain't easy being greasy

2005-12-14T03:23:00.000-08:00

I saw the George Clooney film Syriana a few days ago and deliberately haven't blogged about it. I just don't know what to say about it. I'm still completely unsure how I felt about it. So I'll keep writing now, stream of consciousness style, and see where I land.

Despite the movie being about one of my favorite subjects -- the marriage between big oil and politics and war -- I didn't leave the theater with these goodies top of mind. I left feeling on sensory overload. Because my overall impression was the movie was just too busy and crowded with characters. It had almost an uber montage style, with lots of longish, muscular vignettes strung together featuring the lives of four different Middle East-related players.

I've heard that one critic joked about needing a flow chart to keep up with Syriana. Agree. I don't want to work that hard when I'm taking in a flick. Gimme a cheat sheet next time, Mr. Clooney. Take it easy on my brain. I didn't miss the point, and there were excellent points made. I'm just having a hard time mentally embracing this octopus, whose many arms flailed non-stop.

That gripe aside, it was an important film. Syriana boldly goes where few flicks go on the geopolitical landscape. The film's replete with powerful, intimate glimpses into the lives and ideology of filthy rich oil sheiks, greasy corporate titans, the slick lawyers who represent them, and the CIA operative they'd all like to fry.

If you like the subject matter, then definitely go see. Just wear a hard hat. You will enter a dangerous and intriguing world, one where heavy mental lifting is job #1.

Stanley "Tookie" Williams: The Last Sentence

2005-12-13T05:17:00.000-08:00

Witnesses at the Stanley "Tookie" Williams trial said he boasted about the killings, stating "You should have heard the way he sounded when I shot him." Williams then made a growling noise and laughed for five to six minutes, according to the transcript that the Governor Schwarzenegger referenced in his denial of clemency.
Question: Who's laughing now, Mr. Williams?
Answer: Not a single soul. Because there's nothing humorous about being murdered. Not even when it's you.
This is a sad, sad day. The Street God is gone; the co-founder of the Crips is black history.
Let those who revered what the Street God stood for translate his life of words and deeds this way: Thou shall not kill, lest the System will surely take another son to crucify.
May God walk with the family and friends of Stanley "Tookie" Williams, and the countless people who've lost loved ones to gang violence. Perhaps Tookie's demise will be the very period ending the most important chapter, verse and sentence he wrote. Let his eternal silence send his disciples this most resounding message: The end.

C-Span's "Voices of Katrina Evacuees"

2005-12-08T05:35:00.000-08:00

Did you catch the Hurricane Katrina evacuees's testimony before Congress on Tuesday on C-Span? It was a riveting, emotional, hours-long telling of the racist elements that lace (then and now) every aspect of the disaster.

Two groups presented to Congress. The first group was comprised of African American community activists, people who lived through the bizarre experience. The second group was comprised of African American lawyers and policymakers from other cities, whose opinions were to help assess the local, state and federal response.

Here are some of the highlights, if you missed this important broadcast:

In the opening remarks, Rep. Cynthia McKinney (GA) recommended the committee adopt the Congressional Black Caucus's guidelines for adddressing poverty in America. Ms. McKinney was one of two African American Congress members who sat on the dais. The African American Congressman from New Orleans, Rep. Bill Jefferson, arrived late so made no remarks, acted aloof while there, and left the hearing after the community group presented. He didn't sit through the lawyer group's presentation, which looked odd. How is it that no black NOLA representative sat through their remarks? The lady from Georgia had to step up and in?
Part 2 of the testimony included a stellar, absolutely fierce presentation by Barbara Arnwine, executive director of the Lawyers Committee for Civil Rights. Ms. Arnwine was the last of five presenters to speak, but was well worth the wait. This sister came off like the next Barbara Jordan! She gave FEMA a royal beat down in her analysis of the disaster and included savvy measures the agency should consider. The Republicans in the room seemed flustered by her strong mannerisms, in pain in the membrane.
Both groups spoke out forcefully about reports of having heard a double-boom right before the levee broke. One representative of the black lawyers group, Ishmael Muhammad of Mississippi's Advancement Project, raised the little-known fact that the government had blown up the levee before, in 1927. The Republicans clearly thought some of these people were nuts. (Perhaps this is why the New Orleans congressman left the room post haste, wanting nothing to do with this conspiracy theory drama.)
One Jewish Republican on the dais grew fed up with the evacuees' repeated reference to Katrina's aftermath being similar to a "concentration camp." He asked the peoplez to please stop likening their experience to this. Some of the activists argued back that that was what it was like, so they'd continue to call it whatever the hell they wished.
One of the community activists -- an eccentric, purple scarf-and-locs wearing Earth Mother named Dyan French -- I was sure would be carted out of the room by her armpits. A colorful, 60-year-old who is a former head of the NAACP, beautiful "Mama D" was the most contentious. (She is one of those fascinating older persons you love to chat with, but soon realize your "chat" is not supposed to be a real dialogue at all. Your role is really to just shut the hell up and listen. And listen. And listen. And if you don't, she may cuss your ass out.) At one point, one of the Republicans, Christopher Shays of Connecticut, rudely cupped his ears while Ms. French pontificated. (I must admit I understood why. lol.) But to be fair, he'd riled Mama D by insisting she answer "honestly" as to having actually eye-witnessed anyone bombing the levee. Upset from feeling he was calling her a liar, she'd only answer about what she heard -- a big boom-boom. She barked back to Rep. Shays that he needed to come to New Orleans and look at the levee himself. Her anger was warranted and palpable all the way here in Chicago.

Chaired by Rep. Tom Davis (R-VA), the committee said it would investigate all of the panelists's claims of the many ways that racism tainted the Katrina recovery effort -- from whites only being slipped out of the Superdome to the alleged military bombing of the levee to the fact that no one is investigating how people died (at the hands of an uncaring military, it is alleged) to the belief that 6,000 people are still missing.

We'll be keeping an eye on all of this, for sure.

Voices of Katrina Evacuees - The Activists (part 1)

Voices of Katrina Evacuees - The Lawyers (part 2)

DemocraticUnderground.com - Comments about the proceedings

Stanley "Tookie" Williams

2005-12-07T05:33:00.000-08:00

I've been told that I sometimes take things too personally. And such is the circumstance surrounding my position in the Stanley "Tookie" Williams death sentence debate. I can sort of "feel" the dispair of those he allegedly murdered, and of their devastated family members who will never fully recover from those losses. I can too easily imagine these being my loved ones gunned down.

None of the well-intentioned children's books Mr. Williams wrote can bring back the dead, nor can they probably lift the spirits of the walking-dead relatives whose hearts long to hear their laughter again. So the writing of those books doesn't amount to much in my mind. Want to absolutely convince kiddies not to engage in gang violence? Perhaps a field trip to Mr. Williams' "services" would do the trick. Maybe his most tangible contribution to humanity will be martyrdom.

That said, I do have doubts about the death sentence -- particularly prior to the era of DNA testing. One of the worst circumstances on the planet was the wrongful imprisonment of innocent people. Unlike cloning and microwaves, this DNA science is one of the few true, unquestionable blessings that modern advancements have brought us. Because Mr. Williams maintains his innocence of those murders, I hope his is a situation where the science can swoop down and prove his accusers wrong. If there's really reasonable doubt, the man's sentence ought to be commuted.

So I would support a re-trial for Tookie Williams, whose original jury was all white after the dismissal of a number of blacks. This happened amidst the hysteria of gang violence, so there very likely were imbalances and unfair racial nuances surrounding his trial. Again, I'd be down with taking another look at what really happened. But if that nor DNA evidence proves anything different, I'd be okay with the death sentence standing.

One key reason why death sentencing was legalized was to send a resounding message to all of us who are pissed with our disloyal mates, tired of not having money so conk somebody on the head, or "go postal" on our ignorant bosses. The message is that there are severe, deadly consequences for losing control and disregarding the lives and well being of others. And in a day in time when being imprisoned sells more CDs, gets us two TV shows and million-dollar book and movie deals, I'm okay with the stakes being upped. The idea of rotting in jail just isn't the horrible thing it used to be; too many of us have become immuned to it. Hey, you can sex celebrities in some of these jails! What fun. And for some poor folks, here's a definite way to keep a roof over your head and daily meal. One might argue that for some, living on this side of bars is the real hell.

So how do we put ourselves in check, prevent petty hotheads from killing us just because we stepped on their Nikes or they simply like our Corolla better than they like riding the bus? Here's how: you increase the stakes with the threat of receiving a death penalty.

I'd just like us to have unquestionable scientific proof first that the correct person has been fingered. But then again, there was "unequivocal proof" of WMD in Iraq, wasn't there? Does this mean the U.S. will restore Saddam Hussein to power now, give him back his many palaces and oil? Oops, mea culpa! Does this mean that whomever started the war in Iraq, causing the deaths of thousands of Iraqi freedom fighters and American troops should meet Mr. Executioner, too? Hell, someone's done a lot more than merely stepped on Saddam's Nikes. Who's going to do the time? If you do the math based on a body count in Iraq, someone "up there" makes Tookie Williams and Saddam Hussein look just about like angels.

I'm just seeking some consistency in the rules here. That, and an end to all this devaluing of lives.

The thugs in D.C. deserve the same treatment as those in Compton. If God gave his only begotten son to serve as an example, perhaps he'd also turn over Tookie Williams and whomever started the most bizarre war of our time. Conversely, God could step in with DNA evidence for "Tookie" Williams and WMD evidence for "Tookie" Bush. At the moment, I just don't see much difference between the two.

I'm black, and too damned power-full

2005-12-03T06:10:00.000-08:00

Yo, MAJOR props to my new computer technician, Walter, for getting me back on online with system upgraded and err'thing!!! I have missed blogging and missed all of my blogging brothers and sisters more than you know (that means YOU! ;-) Thanks to all who've emailed, wondering if I fell off the face.

In other news, I'm delighted to have a house guest. One of my best friends from high school, Miss D, lived in New Orleans. That is, up until Hurricane Katrina threw that diva fit. So Miss D is spending the month of December with me -- and both of our birthdays are this month! Mine was on the 1st; hers is on the 11th. Lord, I may never be sober again. lol There's so much tasty wine and laughter flowing through the spot, it's a little like Mardi Gras up in here.

Anyway, point is I'm living a blessed life, connecting with my friend again on a daily basis.

But I got ish on my mind. For instance: Bush? Stanley "Tookie" Williams? Is there really that much of a difference?

To me, the Tookie Williams situation is like that blonde slut teacher, Debra Lafave, who seduced her 14-year-old male student in Florida. I'm not really feelin' this feel sorry for the criminal crap and let 'em go.

I watched the Tavis Smiley show with Williams, where he denied having killed those four people. But this claim doesn't seem to be treated seriously by anyone; I heard no mention of an ongoing investigation to clear his name. Plus, I watch Judge Mathis so I've been to the puppet show and have seen the damned strings. People lie like rugs. I mean, people can be cold-blooded BUSTED and still lie straight-faced to your face.

So I'm not so sure this alleged murderer should be let off the hook. As they say in Jersey, "allz" I know is that if that mofo had killed one of my loved ones, he would have to die. And since I probably couldn't get my hands on him in prison, I would count on my Governator to get the job done for me.

I am also counting on my Governators and Congress-ators to handle those other lying murderers. The ones behind the deaths of over 2,000 Americans in Iraq.

Almost back at'cha

2005-12-01T10:39:00.000-08:00

Nuts! Computer's been down since Thanksgiving. Back at'cha all very soon. Love and kisses!

Oops upside the head

2005-11-23T00:27:00.000-08:00

My intention was to stay as detached as possible from the Murder Inc. trial, but it's already too dramatic to easily dismiss. According to SOHH.com, days 3 and 4 of the record label's money laundering trial has turned into a sideshow about who shot 50 Cent.

In an effort to establish the close ties between the Inc.'s CEO Irv Gotti and kingpin "Supreme" McGriff, the prosecution has presented text messages the two exchanged when 50 Cent was shot, alleging the messsages prove they were behind the rapper's shooting. And, the prosecution's theory goes, if they could collaborate on an attempted murder, they certainly could launder money together through the once top-dog music label.

After listening to the prosecution's text evidence and argument, the judge decided not to allow this testimony to be presented to the jury, saying it was a distraction that had nothing to do with the money laundering case. I know that Fiddy is relieved as hell not to be any further embroiled in this mess.

In the past, 50 Cent has said the person who shot him was someone with no ties to Murder Inc. I'm reminded of that rhyme popularized by Wyclef Jean (and others): Everytime I try to get out, they keep pulling me in.

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First Condi Rice is demon-eyezed by the Washington Post, now this: Dick Cheyney is visibly nixed by CNN with a big "X" during a televised speech on Monday. Garsh, some people just can't take a hint.

But when Bush fell off the heezy fasheezy, it was all his own doing -- not that of any media organization. Hmmm, we'll stay tuned to see what happens next with this trio. If we're lucky, maybe White House doors will start hitting them hard in the backside.

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How the hell can a grown woman -- a doggone teacher-- romantically pursue her 14-year-old male student, repeatedly have sex with him, get busted, and yet get off scot free? This, according to the Washington Post, is how it happened for blonde bombshell Debra Lafave, sick-azz teacher of the year:

The boy said he and Lafave, a newlywed at the time, got to know each other on their way back from a class trip to SeaWorld Orlando in May 2004. He also said Lafave told him her marriage was in trouble and that she was aroused by the fact that having sex with him was not allowed.

Debra Lafave's attorney argued that she was "too pretty" to be sent to prison, that she'd be raw meat for the lady inmates. The victim's mother said the media scrutiny was just too much for her son and family, so wanted the case dismissed. So off skips Mrs. Lafave into the sunset with a mere slap on the wrist. She loses her teaching credential, cannot come near a school, undergoes house arrest and then probation.

So a ditzy damsel in distress does disgusting immoral deed and she's rescued from the big bad lesbian wolves? Only if she's a perky blonde, apparently. Seems to me time in the slammer might have fit right in with her sexual appetite. Moreover, though there's an order preventing her from making money from her exposed deviant behavior, I'll bet she shows up nude in a magazine or movie before you can holla Michael Jackson.

What is this double double-standard? I won't even go into the obvious argument, "What if she'd been a male teacher who'd done this to a kid?" Just let the record show that if I had been that out-of-control teacher, my sexy black woman buns would be under the jail by now, and rightly so.

Lord, America is going to hell in a handbasket.

American Music Awards: The Biggest Loser

2005-11-22T06:29:00.000-08:00

Tonight's the American Music Awards, a show I haven't been able to get through in years. I wouldn't mind seeing performances by Mariah Carey and Cyndi Lauper, and my homeboy, Cedric The Entertainer, ought to be a great host. However I have little interest in seeing Kenny Chesney squirming on stage just because he was married a minute to Renee Zellweger, and the Rolling Stones squirming on stage just because Mick's too old and creaky to zip around the way he used to.

The American Music Awards is a nice idea, but I suppose I'd like this thing better "de-Americanized." I mean, I consider myself a person with diverse taste in music. But the truth is, some of this stuff bores me thrown in together this way. Rob Thomas then Bow Wow then Hilary Duff. This is just wrong -- all wrong.

By the way, who exactly is Rob Thomas? Why would I want to see Hilary's duff? And Bow Wow? Big friggin' woof!

Perhaps I'd be more excited if I were more a fashion bug. Then at least I'd care to see what the presenters such as Toni Braxton and Eve would be wearing. But the scripts are usually so corny and stiff and tired, not even the idea of teeny-tiny-diva-fashions turns me on enough to tune in.

I see that Ciara's "performing" tonight... (yawnnnnn). At the recent Vibe Awards, Ciara's penultimate act was to ask the audience, "Y'all wanna see me dance?" Ultimately, we should have screamed a worldwide "no!" Because Ciara's heebie-jeebie zombie popping made my butt twitch. And as much as I like Pharrell, he'll probably have Gwen Stefani with him, singing that innane hook, "You got it like that." As immensely talented as Pharrell is, he sure knows how to screw up a perfectly fabulous beat.

To me, the American Music Awards haven't been enjoyable since the days of the Jacksons. Since the days before Janet exposed her boob and got herself ex-communicated from such mega-televised events. Since the days before Michael exposed his weiner and got himself ex-communicated from the light of day.

Maybe I'll just watch The Biggest Loser tonight instead. Tonight's episode features the contestants scaling the side of a building with the amount of their weight loss in coins strapped to their meaty backs. They'll probably look a little like Ciara does dancing. Maybe just a little more jiggy. I mean jiggly.

Mary don'tcha you weep, tell Mimi not to moan

2005-11-17T06:17:00.000-08:00

Poor Mary J. Blige. She's disgusted by her new cover shot for Vibe. When receiving the magazine's VLegend Award at the big event a few days ago, Mary's acceptance speech included a swipe at editor-in-chief Mimi Valdes, whom she feels sabotaged her photo. Now a war of words -- Mary vs. Mimi -- has ensued.

Mary: "I'm very, very disappointed at the cover this time, so Mimi, me and you really need to talk, as women. I really hated the way you guys shaved off my head, pushed my forehead way back behind my ears. I'm just insulted... But I thank you, and I appreciate this award.”

Mimi: "How your hair looks on that cover is between you and your hairstylist. I swear, your hairline is no different than the Polaroids you saw at the shoot..."

Mary, Mary, Mary... Don't you know PR 101 by now? Never call attention to something that no one would paid attention to -- not until you yourself start yapping about it.

Besides, many of the world's most glamorous women got their wigs pushed back (by God), too. Look at beautiful Susan Taylor of Essence.

What about elegant supermodel Iman?

And don't forget about the most powerful woman in America: Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice.

Perhaps the constant manipulation of your hair throughout your career has taken a toll. Plus, did you see Mimi's own fatal-looking photo on Vibe's website? Can't imagine that Mimi actually approved this picture of herself to run, either... Well, maybe Mimi should consider hiring a different photographer and/or photo editor. Maybe someone new at Vibe would better have your back. And hers.

You Don't Know Me: T.I., Mariah and Neo-con short fuse

2005-11-16T05:34:00.000-08:00

That does it. This proves that we Americans are the biggest suckas on the planet and we deserve all the bullshit we're getting. Forty percent of us are still drinking the Republican Kool-aid. The remaining 60 percent is largely just now putting down that poisonous concoction and coming too damned late to the 'Splain That WMD Crap party. The officials we elected to represent the majority of the now Kool-aidless 60 percent -- the Democrats -- are just now wiping red juice stains from their far too "mummed" mouths.

What am I ranting about? This! I said it before and I'll say it again: "Dick is going DOWN, down, d o w n . . ."

The CEO of every major oil corporation told Congress a bold-faced LIE, denying their companies met with Cheyney & Crew pre-Iraq. But the lying's not going to be a big problem. Because the Republicans insisted the CEOs not be sworn in when they "testified" about their head-spinning oil profits. What kind of ish is that?!

When I was a pre-teen my favorite older girl cousin, F., called herself educating me on how to deal with boys. F.'s emphatic mantra was, "If you find a fool, bump his head."

Well, the people of America ought to be suffering one, enormous headache by now. Because if this were boy-girl relations, there'd be a handful of folk off giggling and slapping five somewhere. Because the trusting, idiot, unquestioning American people -- once again -- have been f*****.

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On a lighter note, I watched some of the Vibe Awards last night. I could rip the show to shreds -- beginning with all of that too tired lip synching. But I'll skip the knit-picking and just get to the point: What the hell is up with Mariah Carey's body?

Did she get another breast enlargement?
Did she just gain weight, making her boobs look fatter?
Do people actually find her shape attractive?
Are her friends and family woefully egging her on (to Tit-ville) because they're afraid of losing a paycheck from her?
Will she ever find a stylist with the guts to fluff her flat-ass hair?
Am I the only person she's starting to look "Sweet Polly Purebred-ish" to?

Anyway, congrats girl for winning all those awards. Dig your Summer 2005 anthem, We Belong Together. Just don't know who could possibly fit in a room together with you. Not with those globe-sized boobs.

PS Shout out to T.I., who looked extremely handsome at the podium in his decorator tux, wearing a "You Don't Know Me" grin.

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If you've ever had to try to help someone understand the WHY? of the French riots, Toledo riots, Hurricane Katrina "looting," or any other crisis in which the masses have seemingly lost their ever-loving minds and destroyed/pilfered property, here's one of the best essays I can recall reading to explain it.

It starts with this powerful quote:

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress," said the African American abolitionist Frederick Douglass. "Those who profess to favor freedom and yet depreciate agitation are men who want crops without ploughing up the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters ... Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will."

Halfway in, the piece wove in this crucial finding:

After the 1967 riots in American cities, President Johnson set up the Kerner commission. It concluded: "What white Americans have never fully understood - but what the Negro can never forget - is that white society is deeply implicated in the ghetto. White institutions created it, white institutions maintain it, and white society condones it." How else was such a damning indictment of racial discrimination in the US ever going to land on the president's desk?

So please check it out: Riots Are a Class Act - And Often, The Only Alternative. And please, email the article to anyone you believe needs a little light shed on the subject.

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Poppin' Poses: Rahsaan, Madonna & Michael Jackson

2005-11-15T10:56:00.000-08:00

Stand back: The whole damn world's about to strike a pose and get our disco groove on! At 5 p.m. EST today(11/15/05), Madonna's live concert will broadcast worldwide at aolmusic.com from the stage at Koko's in London. Her new CD, Confessions On a Dancefloor -- which officially hits the market today -- already is the #1 best selling music item at Amazon. The new album is described as non-stop dance with beats reminiscent of S.O.S. Band, Donna Summer, Tom Tom Club and Blondie. Sounds like a sizzler.

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Meanwhile at Seeing Black, one of the richest but most underappreciated voices in black music speaks about his latest album, After Hours. "Visibility plays a major factor" admits Rahsaan Patterson , noting also that he's in competition with "artists who are on late night talk shows and have videos on MTV." (Hey, Madonna's to blame. It was she who made the video party all that it is. On the heels of Michael Jackson, of course.)

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Speaking of Michael Jackson, I'm hoping he got more minutes... While at a mall in his new homeland of Bahrain (since y'all chased him out of America!), a "headscarf-wearing" MJ -- (meaning a burka?)-- is said to have ducked in the Ladies Room to beat some (more) makeup on his infamous face.

Much to his chagrin, a female fan recognized the man in the mirror and begin snapping his photo with her cell phone. Michael allegedly chased her (wait: through the mall?!) to retrieve the camera phone, but she refused to give up the goods without pay.

Sounds like she managed to do what the Santa Monica D.A. couldn't. Which was photograph the King of Pop fairly nude-faced. Don't know how much cellies cost in Bahrain, but the contents of hers are worth a small fortune.

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While getting caught up on last week's emails, this Paris Riot article written by an African American living there caught my eye. The piece is at Pop + Politics and compares the "civil unrest" there to South Central L.A. after the Rodney King verdict. (I love that term: civil unrest. As if super polite citizens are sauntering in a ballroom, a bit anxious and hand-wringing. At most, tapping a toe and wanting to burst out dancing.)

Jazz Notes: Carmen Lundy vs. New Jazz Generation

2005-11-14T01:55:00.000-08:00

Few jazz vocalists today can turn out a standard the way that Carmen Lundy does. In fact, there are several classics that I paid little attention to until I heard her cover them. Two examples: My Favorite Things and Love For Sale. This sultry sister opens her mouth and out streams heady champaigne on a romantic night scented with the essence of a dozen perfect roses.

Carmen recently blessed her loyal, cult-like international fan base with a live double CD, Jazz and the New Songbook: Live at the Madrid. On it, she is joined by jazz notables such as trombonist Steve Turre, her brother bassist Curtis Lundy as well as Nathan East, pianist Billy Childs and many others.

As if her hynotic vocal talent isn't enough, Carmen also is an accomplished fine artist. Her bold, expressionist style with a brush is part Outsider, part moderne. She's another example of artistic talent in one area extrapolating to another.

For more on Carmen Lundy, check: BlogCritics 11/04 Jazz-Not-Jazz 02/05 BlogCritics 02/05

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That said, and so much more I could say about Carmen Lundy, this scares me:

I imagine this is an enjoyable album. But I'm bugging a bit about this crew being "crowned" the New Jazz Generation.

I own music by Norah Jones and Joss Stone; like them both a lot. I've previewed Jamie Cullen, and he's a bit bouncy for my jazz taste. I'm not familiar with Amy Winehouse nor Katie Melua, but I'm curious about what they offer that earned them a slot on this CD.

Just don't know where this music is headed. Joss Stone is a helluva blue-eyed soul singer, but this does not make her "jazz-able." Christina Aguilerra is a helluv an over-singing pop singer, but Herbie Hancock puts her on his album? Queen Latifah crosses over to drop a jazz CD, and we embrace it just because...? (I'll give Queen major props for selecting a dynamic menu of songs, but Ella and Sarah must be so confused somewhere...)

There must be a way to bring fresh voices to the genre without diluting its standards and fuzzying-up its boundaries this way. Pop is cool, just keep pop out of jazz. Maybe that theory about "extrapolating" across artistic disciplines doesn't hold as true across genres within the same discipline? I mean, Carmen Lundy sure can paint, but that doesn't mean she can rap.

Read more: Jazz Music Art

Veterans Day Diggables: Beyonce, Oprah & A bad rap for Paris Rap

2005-11-11T08:36:00.000-08:00

Yeeehawww... A day off, so I've already watched lots and lots of TV. I plan to honor all war veterans -- including my dad and favorite uncle -- with prayer. But first, here's what's on my mind so far this lazy day...

Thanks to ObiFromSouthLondon for sending this link Paris + Rap. It features a frighteningly boneheaded op-ed piece from the New York Times, essentially blaming American rap music for the problems in Paris and surrounding cities. Warning: This guy is an offensive, racist nut.

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Shout out to my #1 girl -- Miss Aretha Franklin, Queen of Soul -- who received the Presidential Medal of Freedom for achievement in the arts. Another G.O.A.T. receiving America's highest civilian award was Muhammed Ali. It's about time on both accounts, and this is all real cool but... a) The Greatest clearly wouldn't have fought George Bush's dirty war, and b) too bad The Champ didn't have a Thriller in Manilla flashback and bop him like Kanye did.

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Chicago's been buzzing all week about a Beyonce sighting. This morning I learned why she was here. She and her mom, Tina Knowles, taped an Oprah segment promoting their fashion line, The House of Dereon. Just to prove how twisted word gets, my friend C.M. told me Beyonce was here to promote a new perfume called Pumpkin! Well, she did promote a perfume at Marshall Field's. But it's Tommy Hilfiger's, who pays her to brand his True Star scent. (Pumkin?!)

In any case, I'll have to call my most fashion savvy friend, C.W. in Philly, a very catty, funny as heck woman who once ripped into Beyonce's clothing line like a bloody drag queen. I can hear C. now: "Beyonce's is a bold line... A Country Hooker silhouette you'll rarely see. Certainly not on a red carpet."

The powers that be behind the H.O.D. call it "forties inspired," a nod to Beyonce's stylish, seamstress grandma. Well, that they've achieved. It is all very dolled-up "Shuge," ready for a night at the shake shack with "Mister."

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And more from today's Oprah... She devoted the other half of the show to the Broadway production she's among the producers of: The Color Purple. It opens on my b-day, December 1st, so my getaway wheels are churning.

O. flew the entire cast to the Chi to do two numbers live on stage, and both were good. The song "Hell No" is a word-for-word take-off of the riveting dialogue from one of Oprah's famous scenes: All my life I had to fight...

Oprah's co-producers for the Broadway play were in the audience, including Q. I was thinking they should chat with Beyonce and Tina backstage. Some of the hoighty-toighty fashions from H.O.D. would fit right in the musical. Miss Ceilie can sell 'em in that boutique. Meoooow.

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Last but not least, 50 Cent and Joy Bryant were on The View, promoting Get Rich or Die Tryin'. Star Jones had seen the movie and was sincerely complimentary of it, as was I in a post two days ago. Fiddy was so personable, especially with the cute banter between him and that crazy Joy, who asked what she should call him. He told her "Curtis," like his granny does. She playfully wondered if he was fronting her on her age. He had those babes wrapped, simply charmed. It was fabulous!

I'm sensing a peculiar dynamic about the flick, though. While Get Rich may not be highbrow enough for many mainstream critics (except Roger Ebert, who rated it 3 out of 4 stars), it may be too highbrow for some chicks in the hood...?

I listened to hip-hop radio last night, where people who'd seen Get Rich were invited to call in their opionions to Power 92's Donnie Devoe. The first girl liked it as much as I did; the next two hated it. One said she fell asleep; the other said it was like a Wayans movie. (These must be young women who don't know Tony Montana from a Toyota Corolla.)

I couldn't have that nutty "Wayans" comment be the one that stuck! So I called in my fifty-cent and think I managed to convince Donnie the film was well worth his dollars.

Whew, how the heck did I get in the business of doing damage control for 50 Cent?!? This brother owes me a check! LOL

Read more: Beyonce 50 Soul Beauty Films Black Music Music

Fiddy's flick: Two dope thumbs up!

2005-11-09T20:46:00.000-08:00

I'm so excited: I really like 50 Cent's Get Rich or Die Tryin' film. A lot! There will be mainstream critics who bash this movie because 50 is no Denzel or Fishburn; there will be blacks who bash it because it's centered in the drug trade and violence. But somewhere beyond all of that is a rich, ambitious film that was well worth the weight and incessant hype.

So if you asked me 21 Questions about why you should check it out, I'd give you these 21 Answers...

The film was terribly engrossing, with never a dull moment. High quality production with high caliber touches everywhere. Interestingly, you are not hit over the head with the rap aspect of this film, numerous concert performances, etc. The music's there, to be sure, but Fiddy's movement in the game and the fascinating underbelly of New York are the real story.
Fiddy's acting was better than I expected. No, he's no Denzel, but who the heck is? Loosen up and don't go expecting a Denzel performance, and you just may enjoy what you do get.
This movie showcased a work ethic that "many men" would do well to emulate. Not at all condoning Fiddy's prior profession, but can't help but tip my hat to the discipline that he learned in the drug game and how he applied that focus to get where he is today.
Terrence Howard cuts the hot-dang fool! Terrence is a bit of a Denzel. His character was as crazy and compelling as Denzel's in Training Day.
The cinematography was hot. If you pay attention to visual impact, camera tricks, moody lighting, etc., then director Jim Sheridan made a nice bit of arty love for our eyes.
The entire cast was on point. Whatever Fiddy lacked in acting experience, everyone else pulled through with and gave the overall movie a lift.
There's a jaw-dropping scene with lots of wet, naked menz!! Can't remember if I'd seen this done on Oz, but it looked fresh to death.
There was believable love chemistry between Fiddy and Joy Bryant. A sweet, strong love between a thug and his redbone goodie two-shoed squeeze.
I thought Fiddy's mumbling would be annoying. But for the most part, I understood him just fine.
The opening scene is a monster. And that's all I'll say about that.
Bill Duke is a monster. "
Dude from HBO's Oz -- Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje -- is awesome (yummy chocolate!).
Quincy Jones & Co., of course, made a sophisticated musical score.
When thugs cry, sometimes they're just faking the funk. Well, that's what Fiddy's tears looked like to me: liquid plastic. If you like special effex, then you'll like that somebody seemed to have gotten paid top dollar to create this man's stiff as hell tear streaks. I could be wrong, but those tears looked store-bought!
The boy who played Fiddy as a nine-year-old looked just like him and did a nice acting job.
Fiddy's skin looked pretty good. I don't think it was just the make-up, either. Maybe he, too, has been using that miracle acne product that Alicia, Jessica and Diddy are endorsing.
If you want to better understand street drug organizations, here's another good peak inside.
There were plenty of belly laughs, mostly delivered by Terrence Howard. But even cold-mugging Fiddy got his comedic thing on some, too. It was nice to see him loosened up; it was a good look.
I loved seeing the relationship between Fiddy and his mom. She seemed like a sweetie and you really feel his loss and trauma in the film.
It was cool seeing Fiddy's very white, toothy smile. Ain't nothing as sexy as a rich chocolate gangsta with gleaming teefus and no fronts!
And lawd, when Fiddy and his girl are making bucka-nekkit love and he flips her over on her tummy and kisses her there, all the ladies in the house went owwww! One woman seated down front actually jumped to her feet -- church-style -- and waved her hands in the air, holla'd like she just didn't care!! I think Fiddy kinda hits a worldwide GGGG*spot, y'all.

Do not "wait" to see this movie. I have never purchased any of Fiddy's music, but the budding actor Curtis Jackson could certainly get another eight bucks out of me for this flick. Just go see it with moderate expectations, as I did. Then you, too, may be pleasantly surprised.

Read more: 50 Hip-hop HIP Film DJ Reviews DVD

Get Vic'd and Leave Cryin'

2005-11-09T11:57:00.000-08:00

This disgruntled critic already has seen Fiddy's new movie, Get Rich or Die Tryin', and I'm skipping work this afternoon to see it for myself. Obviously splitting early to shell out my hard-earned cash to Mr. Magic Shop/Candy Stick won't help me get rich. Let's just hope I don't agree with the critic. I'd hate to die tryin' to leave the theater early, cryin'.

I'll be sliding into my comfy seat with fairly low expectations. But I do hope that C.J. surprises me. I also hope that Quincy Jones's score for Get Rich delivers on the promise of his involvement... Hopefully Q's brilliant mood-setters won't be the only impressive aspect of the flick.

Whatever this turns out to be, Al B. Sure to give you my fifty cent. Oop, did I say "Al B. Sure"? My bad. Really, I've already adjusted my mental dial on that. No such face will I be staring into for the next few hours.
Read more: 50 Rap HIPHOP Music Films

Fast forwards

2005-11-08T04:06:00.000-08:00

Take it from Kanye West, who "took" it from Shirley Bassey (without her permission): diamonds really are forever, and ever-ever, and... So say the new black African part owners of DeBeers. These South African brothers are a girl's best friends! Particularly if they ensure the company does better by the miners.

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Script-flipping isn't just for rappers any more. We saw Martha Stewart get out of the hole with two TV shows awaiting her loosening from that electronic shackle. Well Dick Cheyney's ex-main man, Lewis "Scooter" Libby hasn't even gone to jail (yet), and already he's blowing up. Check out the story of larger than life sales he's suddenly getting for a long-forgotten book he wrote nearly 10 years ago.

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He said, she said but the Bush administration never knows nada, so forgettaboudit. Italian State-owned TV allowed a documentary to air that claims the U.S. military illegally used chemical weapons in Falluja, an Iraqi city heavily populated by civilians.

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He's not a jazz singer, but Dianne Reeves plays one in the film about his life. He's the famed journalist Edward R. Murrow, who exposed the tyranny of U.S. Senator Joe McCarthy. She's the preeminent jazz singer today, who personally delivers songs on screen. When their lives collide (sort of), the result is this smoky soundtrack of 15 jazz standards starring Dianne Reeves, who is again blowing up the music charts.

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Yo, check out the killer art and words by Naro% at Ghetto Gold. Feelin' this!

Read more: Africa Jazz Music Graffiti Art Kanye Hip-hop

France 11 days later: "Oh! We should fix jobs and racism??"

2005-11-07T15:11:00.000-08:00

Well this is some hitherto unseen mix of arrogance and naivete. Today's the first day that I've read or heard anything other than "big dickens" from the hardline French government about the riots, which have now spread far beyond Paris.

Eleven blazing nights later, President Chirac finally mentions an intention to announce plans to deal with the underlying issues of unemployment, poverty and discrimination in the communities where the rioting has been most intense. Heretofore, all the French officials seemed busy doing was calling the rioters scum.

Have they learned nothing from the civil rights movement in the U.S.? Did they never hear of a fed up woman named Rosa Parks and understand that at some point the masses are willing to die for equality? With 30-60% youth unemployment and incessant racial profiling and harassment, these the kids in Paris aren't playing around. Get a good update here, at MTV.com.

Read more: Paris

The Boondocks: The morning after

2005-11-07T12:21:00.000-08:00

First thing this morning I learned that L.A. activist Najee Ali had initiated a letter writing campaign to the Cartoon Network by his Project Islamic H.O.P.E. members, to protest The Boondocks's liberal use of the "N" word. Fifteen times it was bleeped in a 30-minute animated show. Take away commercial time, and that's almost a n**** a minute!

This afternoon I listened to Ed Gordon's News & Notes show on NPR, where The Boondocks was among the hot topics discussed. Gordon's radio roundtable included three savvy African American commentators -- George Curry, Callie Crossley and Professor Charles Ogletree -- who gave their insightful $2.50.

I liked Ms. Crossley's one statement: I wanted to like (the animated TV show) as much as I like the comic strip, but hearing the "N" word was offensive and distracting -- which was unfortuate because McGruder had some important things to say.

Personally, I enjoyed the show and look forward to seeing much more. It looked fabulous, the voices were beautiful, and there were powerful moments to truth (i.e., "He speaks so well" -- to the 10th power!) The "N" word in and of itself didn't disturb me. I hear it used often; I occasionally use it myself.

However I found the use of the "N" word bothersome in a notably different way...

Now I only caught the back half of the show. So there's a chance that I missed some crucial setup to the following. But when the boys and grandpops showed up at the upscale affair and the doorman was going off, questioning these "N******" about why they'd shown up at his boss's(master's) house, it felt phoney.

I well realize that exaggeration is the foundation of comedy, but that butler cat just wasn't real to me. What black man in this day and time would "greet" another grown black man in such a manner? And there not be a physical jumpoff as a result? I can easily imagine a butler acting suspicious and unwelcoming, but not repeatedly calling these people "N*****" while telling them to get lost.

So someone please tell me what I missed. Was this supposed to have been some step-in-time scene, a parody of the days when you could front someone like that and not get beat down? 'Cause otherwise, this looked whack to me. In other words, this empowered Step 'n Fetchit character came too close to what seems to have driven Dave Chappelle over the edge.

McGruder said recently that he could handle exposing what Chappelle ultimately could not. I hope that's not true. If this is part of what we get for McGruder's "courage," I have to respect Chappelle all the more for chosing not to represent this way any longer.

To be clear, I'm down with The Boondock's using the "N" word. But it was he who said he'd keep it real. And real "N******" using the word this way, with such nasty attitude usually get dealt some kind of reaction. Don't they? So someone please enlighten me, as this seemed to have missed me in the worse way.

Climb every mountain...

2005-11-06T04:12:00.000-08:00

There really is a difference between blacks and whites. We should acknowledge it and be okay with our differences. For example, some whites think blacks are built for speed. Ha! Well some may be, but what does that make my sweet- and slow-as-molassas mother?

So I've just gotta say, there's a characteristic about whites that really boggles my mind. It's this never-ending need to know, to over-analyze. I guess it's that age-old "Why climb the mountain?" question. The answer of a white person being, "Because it's there!"

Here again, a difference. Because I believe most blacks would answer quite differently; we'd have a very specific and "good" reason for expending so much energy mountain climbing. Personally, the promise of a pot of gold being in them there hills is about all that would get me going.

But not certain white folk. They're just going... Going to nose around.

I listen a lot to NPR, and I'm really into it. But sometimes I hear them pondering the DNA of the most assinine things, and squint at my radio. Sometimes they're like fascinated cats, pawing at subjects that look like lint on a carpet to me. Just poking and prodding at peculiar things -- just gotta figure it out. And heaven forbid, they're trying to wrap their minds around a black subject. It can get downright Kamikaze, the intensity and so-called expert logic.

This blog I stumbled across sort of illustrates my point. I was so confused while reading this young man's entry about African hip-hop. I don't think he meant any harm and I wanted to comment, to answer his questions. But I just didn't know how to steer him back down to sea level. Here's a snippet:

...While I find the African hip hop interesting, I wouldn’t call it good. (Yet.) It makes me wonder, though… how much of the interest generated in the African hip hop scene (both in Africa and around the world) is based on the racist assumption that if blacks in America (or elsewhere) can do it, so can blacks in Africa? Such an assumption denies successful black hip hop artists the credit they deserve and simply feeds into a “black people have rhythm” stereotype.

Huh? He goes on to say more. But the above really seized my attention. Mostly because it made me think of Andy Rooney of 60 Minutes, who again has entangled himself in some politically questionable blackthought. Here's what he said Friday morning on Don Imus's show:

Rooney: “I object every time I hear the words ‘African-American,’ you know? I don’t know why we have gotten caught with that.”

Imus: “Yeah, I don’t either.”

Rooney: “I mean, am I an ‘Irish-American?’”

Imus: “What should I say, just ‘black’ right?”

Rooney: “Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with ‘black.’ Growing up, it’s funny how words get to be opprobrious. The word ‘negro,’ perfectly good word. It’s a strong word and a good word. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Mostly it’s not necessary to identify anyone by skin color. But I don’t care for ‘African-American.’”
Imus: “I won’t use it anymore.”

Sure wish I could have tossed Mr. Rooney a rope before he flapped his gums. He should have climbed right back down that mountain -- not even have gone there. You'd think he'd learn from his past debacle that whenever he pokes his nose in conjecture about "blackness," he's bound to slip and take a PC fall.

Maureen Dowd, queen of stiletto words

2005-11-05T11:07:00.000-08:00

"Mo" Dowd of The New York Times has done it again: written another wildly entertaining and brilliantly insightful political piece. As she does best, the world's "most sexiest" journalist exorcises her fatal attraction for the goings on in Bush World.

Fashioning Deadly Fiascos
Maureen Dowd, The New York Times

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Men are simply not biologically suited to hold higher office. The Bush administration has proved that once and for all.

These guys can’t be bothered to run the country. They are too obsessed with frivolous stuff, like fashion and whether they look fat. They are catty, sometimes even sabotaging their closest friends. They are deceitful minxes and malicious gossips.

And heaven knows they’re bad at math. Otherwise, W. would realize that a 60 percent disapproval rating, or worse, means that most Americans would like some fresh blood in the administration. It’s appalling to see ringleaders of the incompetent, mendacious crew who rushed into Iraq but not New Orleans getting big promotions and posh consulting jobs.

Let’s first consider the astonishing new cache of Brownie e-mail released by the Congressional panel investigating the heartbreaking Katrina non-response.Batting away the frantic warnings of death and doom in New Orleans, bubbleheaded Brownie boasted of his style sense, replying to a staffer who told him his outfit looked “fabulous” on TV: “I got it at Nordstrom.”

In another e-mail to staffers, he preened: “If you’ll look at my lovely FEMA attire, you’ll really vomit. I am a fashion god.”
Brownie had other things on his mind besides managing the most expensive natural disaster in U.S. history: restaurants and dog sitters, and marshaling spin for stories about his past management gaffes at the International Arabian Horse Association.

By Sept. 4, with disaster apartheid in full view, Brownie was getting e-mail advice from his press secretary: “You just need to look more hardworking,” Sharon Worthy wrote the FEMA Fashionista. “ROLL UP THE SLEEVES!”

It may seem unfathomable that W. has kept Brownie, one of the biggest boobs in U.S. history, on the federal payroll as a $148,000-a-year consultant.

But President Bush may be empathetic to Brownie’s concerns about looking good. Obsessed with losing the seven pounds he’d gained around his waist, W. was so focused on getting back his hourglass figure that his staff had to compile an emergency DVD of Katrina news stories before he could be dragged away from biking.

Unless it’s some catty attempt to undermine someone you’re pretending to like, how to explain the Mean Girls cabal headed by Dick Cheney, Rummy and the Rummy aide Douglas Feith? These hawkish Heathers lured W. into war with hyped intelligence and then clawed out Colin Powell’s eyes to take charge of the occupation, only to bollix up the whole thing beyond belief and send the president’s ratings cratering.

The former Powell chief of staff, Col. Lawrence Wilkerson, who often verbalizes what Mr. Powell does not say because the ex-secretary of state does not want to be in a public catfight with the cabal, charged on NPR that the cabal issued directives that led to the abuse of prisoners by U.S. soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.

“It was clear to me,” he said, “that there was a visible audit trail from the vice president’s office through the secretary of defense down to the commanders in the field that in carefully couched terms – I’ll give you that – that to a soldier in the field meant two things: we’re not getting enough good intelligence and you need to get that evidence – and, oh, by the way, here’s some ways you probably can get it.”

Colonel Wilkerson called David Addington, the shadowy Cheney counsel who has been promoted to Scooter’s chief of staff job, “a staunch advocate of allowing the president in his capacity as commander in chief to deviate from the Geneva Conventions.”

Heathers have their own rules. Having ignored the warnings that an invasion would cause an insurgency, the Vice squad stepped up the torture to try to stop an insurgency born amid the arrogant, incompetent occupation.

The colonel also described how Vice shaped war policy. Mr. Cheney’s fiercely ideological staff monitored the National Security Council staff in such Big Brother fashion that some of the N.S.C. staff “quit using e-mails for substantive conversations because they knew the vice president’s alternate national security staff was reading their e-mails now.”

Colonel Wilkerson said that there was an N.S.C. memo that made a compelling argument for a large number of troops being necessary in Iraq, “and to this day, I don’t know whether that memorandum ever got to the president of the United States.”

Women are affected by hormones only at times. Vice’s hormones rage every day.

Quik Bong Hits

2005-11-04T08:50:00.000-08:00

A PS to a previous hot topic... Found this comment about the beef between Fiddy and Samuel L. Jackson. It was submitted to EURweb by one of its subscribers:

...Samuel is right, the one second that I thought to perhaps see 50's movie was when I saw Terrence Howard was in it, no other reason. Terrence is amazing, 50 is boring. But then my senses came back to me and I've decided that I won't be spending any money to see 50's movie, it looks too much like a bad version of '8 Mile,' plus 50 is hard to look at. I can't imagine having to endure him for 2 1/2 hours!"

But EUR countered by responding with this editorial note:

EUR: Not to defend 50 Cent, but after seeing 'Get Rich ...' we have to admit that he/the film - is anything but boring.

Hmmm... Sounds like Fiddy just may prove critics like Sam Jackson wrong.

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Noticed that Popeye's Chicken has a new TV ad campaign in which the e's in the word Popeye's pop like big bulging eyes. Well, if they want to see eyes poppin', just wait till they look at their sales once Bird Flu hits the 'hood. They'd better get lots of crawfish suppliers and recipes lined up, fast!

I, for one, will be among the tweakers, looking like the spooky cast from Spike Lee's Taj Mahal scene. Sure gonna miss my finger-lickin' favorite chicken. That stuff's to die for -- but not really.

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The jobs outlook in France just isn't cutting the mustard. The Paris riots have spread to neighboring cities, including Dijon. Authorities claim that shots were fired at riot police in various parts of Paris, slightly wounding five officers. Hey, wait a minute: Thought guns were so totally outlawed in France that not one, single citizen owned one? (I sure noticed enough men with knife-slashed faces over there to prove that Parisians are blade-runners of the highest order.) So who really shot J.R. (Jean-Rene?), we'll stay tuned to see...

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A few weeks ago, it was reported that Michael Jackson's people were claiming that Beyonce, Jay-Z and many others had agreed to participate in his Hurricane Katrina relief song. But none of these artists seemed aware of ever having made such commitments; some wouldn't even return press inquiry calls.

Now there's a big update: Michael Jackson and R. Kelly had teamed up for the song, due out later this month. How sad, I thought, that these two powerhouse performers are so tainted that all they have is each other. But alas, it appears that MJ has dug up a few other supporters. But the only other one mentioned by name in this article is Snoop Dogg -- so the blacklisting of MJ continues.

According to Mike's publicist, Ramone Bain:

Micheal found he did not need as many artists to participate as originally planned. The final tally will be about 12.

That has got to be the lamest PR spin I have ever heard in my life. But in the words of MIA artist Jay-Z: what more could she say?

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Last but not least, Here Come the Judge... Saw the headshot yesterday of the brother who's presiding over the Scooter Libby case, Judge Reggie Walton, and grew excited. Being a huge fan of the comedic, cool as hell Judge Mathis, I felt proud. That is, until I Googled Judge Walton's azz this morning. I now feel sick. Check out who's his daddy...

Now I'm hyperventilating, having an OutKast moment. All I can manage to say is, Damn, damn, damn James!

Paris Is Burning -- did hip-hoppers light the fire?

2005-11-03T03:50:00.000-08:00

I've long been intrigued by the activist nature of hip-hop lyricists and fans in Paris. So when firey youth riots broke out there a week ago -- and continued nightly -- I paid attention. The anger is in reaction to the deaths of two teens who were electrocuted while allegedly fleeing the police. However this melting pot seeking equality has been boiling for a long while. A BBC.UK report says this:

The riots have exposed the despair and anger in France's grindingly poor suburbs where unemployment is rife, gangs of drug dealers control tough estates and police hesitate to venture. Terrorism experts warn this makes fertile terrain for Islamic extremists.

Police said as many as 228 cars were torched on Tuesday night throughout France, 180 of them in the greater Paris region. Sixty-two cars were set ablaze in Seine-Saint-Denis, home to many impoverished communities and large numbers of immigrants, mainly of North African origin.

Re: the "North African" reference... When I visited Paris a few years back our superb, Harlem-born sister-tour-guide informed us that the Algerians there are treated "like n****** in the fifties" by the establishment. It's a bad scene, so this unrest should surprise no one. But this week in flames has seen Muslims from all over Africa stand together to express their frustation with marginalized lives in Paris.

Neighborhood Tension
Paris Riots: 7 Days and Counting
French-Algerian Relations
An American In Paris Hip-hop

Read more: Paris Hip-hop Riots

Samuel betta "Do the Right Thing" like Spike Lee

2005-11-02T10:15:00.000-08:00

Sounds like Samuel L. Jackson's back on the block with his criticism of rap cats acting and "stealing away" jobs from black thespians who've trained long and hard for film roles. And actually, he and 50 Cent are again engaged in a war of words about it, undoubtedly hyped to promote Fiddy's new biopic.

Well, I'm weighing in on the hype. I wish that Sam would support the legal employment of as many young black men as possible, regardless of their education. The bottom line for me is, this is nothing new. From Elvis and Frank Sinatra to Diana Ross and Sammy Davis Jr., music artists have been leveraging their popularity to make it onto the silver screen. And everyone that I'm aware of cheered them on.

Man, a brother trying to make it can't even get equal treatment from another brother. But it doesn't seem that Fiddy needs people like me to take a stand for him. He's done just fine addressing Samuel L. on his own. EURweb reports The Curt Man as having said this about Mr. Jackson's disinterest in working with him in Get Rich or Die Tryin':

"I don't even see where Samuel fits into my life story anyway, unless he plays one of the crackheads. He was a crackhead originally, right? So I come from being a rapper, and he comes from being a crackhead."

Right on, Fiddy. But umm, you didn't start your "career" as a rapper, did you? Perhaps a more exact reference to your pre-rap career might illustrate the point to Gator even more powerfully.

You can read the entire article about their biting back 'n forth at EURweb.com.

Tags: 50 Cent Hip-hop Entertainment HIP HOP Movies Films

More on Boondocks

2005-11-01T11:03:00.000-08:00

PS re: The Boondocks coming to Cartoon Network's Adult Swim...

Thanks to Berry over at ChapterToo.blogspot.com for mentioning another great story on The Boondocks that ran on MSN's Newsweek page on the weekend.

Why all the fuss? Well, I find The Boondocks particularly appealing since:

Our girl Regina King is doing the voice of both Huey and Riley,

That absolutely insane comedian John Witherspoon (All day long, I put my foot up a dog's azz and --) is doing the voice of grandpa,

The R. Kelly trial episode sounds completely off the chain, with an animated Dick Gregory and Cornell West on one side of the controversy, and lotsa chirren with gold teefus on the other.

This Newsweek article from Berry also mentions that both Ed Asner and Michael Moore have taken part in this Cartoon Network series. Now this is what I'm likely to call politically correct programming.

Also, check out Aaron McGruder's soundbites at the San Diego Comic-Con, commenting on Lauryn Hill and more here.

George Clinton: Funk nizzle for interplanetary shizzle

2005-11-01T05:13:00.000-08:00

As if reclaiming his rightful title of the King of Slanguage, the man George Clinton showed up in USA Today on Sunday with an AK47-esque dictionary that could make Snoop drop the shizzle like its hot.

The legendary Parliament Funkadelic Star Child provides the world this knee-deep new blueprint for wading through his Funk Galaxy:

Bop Gun: Dr. Funkenstein's greatest invention — one blast capable of splanking the funkless.
Thumpasorus Peoples: Prehistoric ancestors of Star Child and Dr. Funkenstein; also, hardcore funkateers.
Electric Spank: High-tech pimping of human instincts by the power brokers/jokers that be.

If you want a download on all of George Clinton's funkentelechy, zoom right over to GeorgeClinton.com for the riotous list of words and phrases.

Tags: Black music Funk Soul Music

Book 'I'm Every Woman' by Lonnae O'Neal Parker

2005-10-31T06:27:00.000-08:00

Read an exceptional essay on black female sexuality this morning at Washington Post online, written by Style section reporter Lonnae O'Neal Parker. The piece starts off with O'Neal Parker painting a too-familiar landscape of female sexuality in her colorful immediate family, starring her:

Enviable Aunt Jackie, an old school sex-pot who's always known how to work it
Offended Granny, who criticized Clarence Thomas during his Anita Hill blue period, saying "What make it so bad, he was talkin' about havin' URRRL sex!"
Razor-sharp historical insights, touching none too lightly on the Hottentot Venus, the rape and breeding of black women during slavery and more.

We've sure come a long way, baby, as O'Neal Parker's piece capably demonstrates. She says she's finally put it all together (sexually) and now has a secret sauce of her own. In her marriage, she makes like Jill Scott, which involves the strategic cooking of meals as groovy as collard greens and sensuous lip lickin'.

To promote her forthcoming book, I'm Every Woman: Remixed Stories of Marriage, Motherhood and Work, O'Neal Parker chats live at 1 p.m. today at washingtonpost.com/liveonline.

Tags: Books Black history Feminism Soul music

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Darn. Got trapped on a conference call so missed the above chat with the Washington Post writer and soon-to-be author, Lonnae O'Neal Parker. Found the chat's "trail" though, and it seems to have been a good one. Though many serious topics surrounding black feminine sexuality were discussed, this lighter note gave me a good chuckle:

Question from Fairfax, Va.: I really liked your story, but I was surprised to read that you use sex appeal and sex to manipulate your husband into giving you what you want. What, if anything, did you learn from your female relatives about playing sexual games within a marriage?
Answer by Lonnae O'Neal Parker: Um, that it worked? Actually, it's not as unyielding as you make it out to be. I would argue sometimes my husband uses sex to try to manipulate me. And sometimes that works well. In the context of a fully realized, long-term adult relationship, all sorts of complexities and power dynamics come into play. I'm just glad he and I can joke about them.

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No, he's not "every woman," but special prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald seems bent on showing he is The Man. Today the DrudgeReport.com says that Fitzgerald played the card that many watching the Scooter Libby/Valerie Plame debacle knew was up his sleeve: he'll be calling Dick Cheyney to the witness stand. Fitzgerald doesn't want closed door, videotaped testimony, etc. He wants Dick naked as all out-doughs.

As usual, Cheyney's folks are saying he won't be coming, citing executive priviledge. The man seems to have more privilege and more to hide than the law should allow. Really. If the 1st Amendment-protected reporters Libby spoke with about Plame had to give up the 4-1-1, shouldn't Dick Cheyney, too?

The Boondocks: Public Enemy meets Cartoon Network

2005-10-30T16:51:00.000-08:00

Okay I confess: I love the Cartoon Network's late-night Adult Swim programming and am beside myself with anticipation for The Boondocks. It premiers Nov. 6 and must be the most eagerly awaited show since Everybody Hates Chris -- only this'll be oh, so deep. What can I say? It's the conspiracy theorist in me coupled with a love of anything art.

So when cartoonist Aaron McGruder combines these two favorite pastimes and animates them for one of the edgiest networks around, I have no doubt that America is in for some dopalicious political truths. It'll sort of be like having Dave Chappelle's Show back, combined with the social messaging of old Bugs Bunny. Except Riley and Huey ain't as covert as the wabbit.

This is the Boondocks teaser that's been running during Adult Swim:

"Jesus is black, Ronald Reagan is the devil and the government is lying about 9/11."

The "N" word is used liberally in each episode, so if you are afraid of That Black Planet, do not go swimming in these waters. But if you're curious for more info, check out this article in the New York Times on McGruder's hot new toon, which at $400,000 per episode, is the most expensive licensing fee the Cartoon Network has ever paid.

Tags: The Boondocks Hip-hop Art Culture Cartoon Network Adult Swim

Jazz news: Dianne Reeves, Coltrane & 'Paris Jazz'

2005-10-29T09:16:00.000-07:00

Dianne Reeves performs on screen in the new film Good Night, and Good Luck, which stars David Straithairn as legendary journalist Edward R. Murrow. Shot in black and white, the film contains smoky nightclub scenes with the singer and her quartet delivering the jazz slowly and deliberately. Reeves, one of the world's premier jazz singers, is intimate as always in her presentation. She projects with strong emotion while squeezing every ounce of passion from her songs. George Clooney directs the film.

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Saxophone trailblazer John Coltrane accounted for two of the top three best-selling jazz albums last week, 38 years after his death, due to two previously unreleased discs. The two-disc Impulse! set "One Down, One Up: Live at the Half Note" entered at No. 3 on Billboard's top jazz albums chart for the week ended October 16. Sitting at No. 2 was Blue Note's recently released album by the Thelonious Monk Quartet with Coltrane, "At Carnegie Hall."

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If you love and/or romanticize Paris and it's appreciative jazz scene, you'll want to check out the new book, Paris Jazz. Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, Django Reinhardt, Mistinguett, Bud Powell, Dizzy Gillespie, Benny Carter, Lester Young, and Sidney Bechet are but a few of the musicians whose lives in Paris are profiled. The book is cleverly divided into four neighborhoods—Montmartre, Montparnasse, Saint-Germain-des-Pres, and the area around the Champs-Elysees—and directs readers to the cafes, caveau, and belle epoque theaters that once were home to extraordinary debuts, legendary collaborations, and high drama.

Tags: Music Books Film Paris Montreal John Coltrane Jazz

Nutz: Looks like Dick is going down

2005-10-28T05:54:00.000-07:00

Oh deeze nuuuts! Rumor has it that Vice President Dick Cheyney's number one guy, I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby, is going to be indicted for perjury today. In other words, Cheyney's chief of staff got busted for trying to cover up something.

News pundits are speculating all over the place about whether he snitched out his boss, The Dick. I think he did, as I've noticed Scooter Libby walking with crutches, from a broken foot -- or a broken something. Guess the Neo-con goons did the best they could to shut him up... Still, he needs to learn from Lil' Kim and Martha Stewart about what happens with perjury.

Here's to the opening of a can of whup-ass worms that gets the conversation beyond Valerie Plame being an outed secret agent by Cheyney & Co., and deeper into the bogus WMD evidence that justified the war in Iraq. Democracy my foot. (Ooops. Sorry Scooter.)

The man thought to be George Bush's brain, Karl Rove, is said to be half off the hook... for now. The investigation into his wrong-doing will continue. Read the full story in the Washington Post.

Tags: Karl Rove Politics

Condi Rice demon-eyes-ed

2005-10-27T03:06:00.000-07:00

Okay. This is the photo of Condi Rice that USA Today first ran online yesterday:

After receiving hysterical complaints about her glowing eyes, this is the non-doctored version they replaced the above with:
Any questions? Does this possibly mean that someone at USA Today doesn't like Republican people? Things that make you go Hummm...

BTW: If you're a photography buff, this blogger posted an intense pixel-by-pixel analysis of the two photos and called USA Today liars for saying they were really just trying to lighten Condi's cheeks. The blogger also posted this "split image" version contrasting the two: All this photo schizophrenia amidst the extreme headline for Condi's article, which basically said: Rice won't deny U.S. could be in Iraq another 10 years. (Duh? Whatchu talking 'bout, Willis!?)

Tags: Condi Rice News and politics

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By the way the good peeps over at EURweb featured a nice round-up about some of the ways the legendary Mrs. Rosa Parks is being honored, including:

The restored 1948 General Motors bus that officials believe Parks rode during her act of defiance, currently housed at the Henry Ford Museum near Detroit, was draped with purple-and-black crepe and moved into the center of the museum shortly after her death.
Ellen DeGeneres left one seat open in the front row of her studio audience during Wednesday’s episode in Parks’ memory.
The Game Show Network (GSN) will honor the civil rights matriarch on Friday (Oct. 28) with the airing of two game shows that featured Parks. At 9:30, the network will air an episode of "To Tell the Truth” from 1980, which featured Parks as a celebrity guest.
On Tuesday, Nov. 1 at 8 p.m., Lifetime Real Women will air "Intimate Portrait: Rosa Parks." Guest interviews include the late Ossie Davis and his wife, Ruby Dee, and Elaine Steele, Parks' longtime friend.
Same night but Lifetime Television at 9 p.m., "The Rosa Parks Story," premiers, stars actress Angela Bassett in the title role and Cicely Tyson.
The upcoming animated sitcom “The Boondocks,” set to premiere Nov. 6 on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim late-night block (yes!), has thought it best to cut out several jokes that were made at Parks’ expense during an upcoming episode. However the series, based on Aaron McGruder’s daily comic strip, has kept in stories about R. Kelly and several Huey rants about Jesus and 9/11.

Link to EURweb.com for the update on funeral services and other touching tributes scheduled for Rosa Parks.

War 'Thriller' from the Condi-riller

2005-10-26T15:29:00.000-07:00

You know, we don't party with the same party, but I deeply respect Dr. Condoleeza Rice for her numerous accomplishments. It gets really hard sometimes, though. Like today, when I read this editorial apolology in USA Today -- after shouting WHAT?! outloud at this "headline"...

Rice won't rule out U.S. troops in Iraq in 10 years
Editor's note: The photo of Condoleezza Rice that originally accompanied this story was altered in a manner that did not meet USA TODAY's editorial standards. The photo has been replaced by a properly adjusted copy. Photos published online are routinely cropped for size and adjusted for brightness and sharpness to optimize their appearance. In this case, after sharpening the photo for clarity, the editor brightened a portion of Rice's face, giving her eyes an unnatural appearance.
Good grief, Which of these 'thrilling' verions of The Condi Gurl did we miss earlier - and was it done purposely?

Rice aimed to reassure jittery lawmakers over the course of the war in Iraq... Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice declined on Wednesday to rule out American forces still being needed in Iraq a decade from now. Senators warned that the Bush administration must play it straight with the public or risk losing public support for the war. (She was being drilled by the Senate Foreign Relations committee.)
Pushed by senators from both parties to define the limits of U.S. involvement in Iraq and the Middle East, Rice also declined to rule out the use of military force in Iran or Syria, although she said the administration prefers diplomacy.

Silly me! I'm thinking the War for Oil party's just about over, given that at least one indictment is expected to be handed down any day now... and all these shakey policy cards that have been stacking since before 9/11 will finally fall. But they're still singing that same old song about a takeover. Can't deny the possibility of Iraq for 10 years? These folk don't seem sufficiently worried about a thing.

Tags: [Music][News and Politics]

Rosa Parks has left the bus

2005-10-24T19:28:00.000-07:00

December 1st, 1955. That was the day that years later would become my birthday. But more important, that was the day that Rosa Parks grew sick and tired of being sick and tired. And the down-trodden everywhere thank her for it.

On that day 50 years ago, Miss Rosa would not be moved, refused to give up her bus seat -- in the back, in the infamous Colored Section -- to a white man. She probably figured she was already sitting atop the motor. What did they want? Her outside hanging onto the bumper, knees scraping the rough Alabama roads for a ride?

Miss Rosa said she wasn't at all physically tired, she was fed up with accommodating racism. She was a "Kanye West" long before he was born, too. Hers was a magical moment of mass connectivity, much like West's when he said on national television, "George Bush doesn't like Black people."

Both did something akin to firing shots heard round the world. Except the slug fired by the immovable, then 42-year-old Rosa Parks actually led people to act. Her refusal to unseat sparked a year-long bus boycott that triggered a seismic change in the American experience for people of African descent. And really, for Africans in the Caribbean and across the Motherland, truth be told.

But Rosa Parks's revolution would not be televised; she didn't even have a mic. She just reached her tipping point, and her bullish little tipping point became one that jolted the whole damn earth. To me, she's more than the Mother of the Civil Rights movement; she is its Earth Mother.

Now at 92, Rosa Parks has died. Finally, she got off the bus -- that bumpy ride called life, God rest her soul. For the rest of us, the crazy ride -- the struggle for equality -- continues.

One of the best ways to honor the memory of Rosa Parks is to teach children about her, show them her as a great example of integrity. How one person can make a difference. Tell them as Miss Rosa might have when glued to that old bus seat: If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything.

Janet Jackson is a mommie

2005-10-21T18:37:00.000-07:00

Wow, Janet Jackson has an 18-year-old daughter? Got an email two hours ago about a radio interview this morning on NYC's Hot 97 with one of the DeBarge's, who divulged that Janet Jackson and his brother had a child way back when.

I'm dowloading the interview now to give a listen, but looks like it'll take forever. Meanwhile, I'm hearing bits 'n pieces of it between buffering on my other player. The interviewer, Miss Jones, is about on the moon with 1,005 eager questions. I don't know what the DeBarge brother is there to promote, but Miss Jones doesn't seem altogether interested in discussing it. (Remember the tsunami Miss Jones, remember the tsunami...)

Anyway, their daughter's name is Renee. Talk about Keep It In the Closet. Sounds like something my family would do.

Stevie Wonder: "A Time to Love" The View

2005-10-21T08:31:00.000-07:00

Just caught a bit of Stevie Wonder's highly entertaining segment on The View, and there was simply too much going on there to ignore. Like the title of Stevie's new CD, his show-long visit was definitely A Time to Love:

Stevie still sounds totally wonderous, with a butter-melting voice that's not lost one iota of it's magic over the years.
Stevie's still speaking from a Higher Ground point-of-view; seeing beauty where there ain't no beauty, have mercy.
Stevie still does what Stevie wants on a broadcast, singing something different from what anyone's expecting, per the production script.
Star Jones Reynold gave an over-zealous shout to Stevie's fashion designer wife, Kai Milla, making it known that her newly trim body has slipped into two of Mrs. Wonder's wonders.
All the white folk in the audience did what I often do in church: mis-mouth the songs, clearly not knowing the lyrics but pretending to be up on things.
Eventually, some of the ladies on The Couch gave up trying to hang with Stevie's lyrics, and just smiled self-consciously during the songs.
Stevie had a bit of an Ashlee Simpson moment. He removed his hands from the little keyboard while he was supposed to be playing -- and the notes somehow kept sounding without his fingers doing any walking at all.

Stevie's beautiful daughter, Aisha, curiously sat on The Couch next to Ba-Ba Wa-Wa, and didn't join her dad and everyone else to sing the very song he created in celebration of her birth: Isn't She Lovely. (Guess she's heard it all before.)

Eventually, I think I understood why Aisha hadn't sung once she joined her dad for a duet called Positivity. Maybe it was a bad case of nerves, but... Well, at least she inherited her father's good looks.

Stevie's dark, funky eyeglasses bore designer insignias so huge, they looked decorated with graffiti. Wondered if he'd gotten paid for the ad and who made them. Turns out Stevie did. The glasses featured this logotype from Stevie's first CD in a decade:

The Apprentice: YOOOGE African American presence

2005-10-20T16:55:00.000-07:00

In the words of RuPaul: You betta worrrk. Work it now... Not YOOOGE in number but certainly in accomplishment is the African American presence on Donald Trump's hit TV show, The Apprenctice. Since it's already quite hot up in therre -- the boardroom, that is -- thought I'd learn a little more about the two I'm specially cheering for. Both of them have shown they have what it takes to win the high-profile dream job they're pursuing.

Him: Randal
Randal, 34, is the founder, president and CEO of his fifth venture "BCT Partners," a multi-million dollar management, technology and policy consulting firm based in Newark, N.J., that works with corporations, government agencies, philanthropic and nonprofit organizations. Raised in Hightstown, N.J., he holds five academic degrees in engineering, business and technology including a B.S. from Rutgers University, an M.S. from the University of Oxford in England as a Rhodes Scholar, and an M.S., M.B.A. and Ph.D. from MIT.

Her: MarshawnMarshawn, 26, is CEO of Communications Counts!, a professional development and public speaking consulting agency where she travels the country working with politicians, athletes, entertainers, and media personalities. A Dallas native, Marshawn received her J.D. from Georgetown University Law Center, where she served as a criminal defense attorney and as a litigator on Georgetown's International Commercial Arbitration Team competing in Vienna, Austria.

I don't get to watch The Apprentice as often as I'd like -- I've got my own worrrk to do. But it looks like I'll be catching the show tonight and definitely hope these two make it through another wicked week.

By the way, the Washington Post interviewed last season's winner, Kelly Perdew, earlier this year with him giving fascinating insight into his experience with The Donald. If you're a fan of the show, check the article out.

Al Green and the Scream heard throughout Soulville

2005-10-19T14:25:00.000-07:00

Owwwch... I remember it vividly, sort of like it was yesterday. My mother and the lady next door, little Geraldine Wiggins, were practically hysterical:

Today in 1974: Al Green's ex-girlfriend Mary Woodson pours a pot of boiling grits on the soul singer in the bathroom of his Memphis home. She then shoots herself. Green suffered second-degree burns on his back, neck, and arms, and later underwent a religious conversion.

My mother's Al Green album already had an important scratch on it -- which to this day my mind flashes back to whenever I hear Look What You Done For Me: "The only thang/the only thang/the only thang/etc." But after the grits gewgob, my mother's heart seemed to grow quite heavy whenever she played that old record. Which was all the time. "There's old grits," she'd say sorrowfully, as if feeling the scalding personally.

I recently learned that Rev. Al became a minister as a direct result of the legendary grits incident, and that to this day, he doesn't like talking about that night. I just hope he never meets my mother... Then he'd know exactly how I feel sometimes: Owwwch... you're gonna bring that up again??

Shake dem Halloween bones

2005-10-18T21:14:00.000-07:00

How's the Halloween Party planning coming along?

If you're throwing a party -- whether for two, twenty or two-hundred -- and you're curious about my 20 bright ideas for CDs, DVDs, and other special effects to make this one your most memorable SpookFest ever, click here: Shake Dem Halloween Bones.

The link above gives you a glance at some frighteningly fun favorites, for grown up and children's parties...

I can't help it. I've gotta give you a hint about something else on the Shake Dem Halloween Bones list, because I simply can't get it out of my head:

Gimme a "C". (C). Gimme an "H". (H). Gimme an "I". (I). Gimme a "C". (C)...

You don't hear me. Y'all not trying to party! I'm outta here. Gotta go pull my annual Tina Turner drag together. Now what did I do with that wig...

Whoa Nelly: Eagle 'drops down' rotten egg

2005-10-17T18:42:00.000-07:00

One of us is an egghead, and it could be me. But I just don't understand one single point this person wrote me to express. She's commenting on an article I posted a while ago at Blogcritics.org. My piece was lighthearted, but said I was impressed with the books Lil' Kim would be reading during her 366-day "System Victimization." (Malcolm X's bio, Maya Angelou, etc.)

The most I can comprehend (below) is that she's telling someone off. I think it's me, but I'm just not sure. Could be Lil' Kim, the person who gave Kim the book recommendations...?

Re: Join Lil' Kim's Book Club Today! (CD Sold Separately)

Published at: http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/10/01/002903.php
From: (name withheld)
Comment: There is reason to believe, as the phenomena of interpersonal relations, that socially engineered encounters rarely permit the freedom of speech necessary to accurately articulate the fine points of any given transaction. Also,within some psychological circles and professional ranks, 'elicited' speech is thought to be the truest example of personal thought and feelings, although the reality can be the exact opposite -- that words and phrases coaxed or demanded from a subject can be horrendously misinter-preted and misapplied.

'Lil' Kim' is a theme, and specific people have inspired that theme -- what should be limelight (?) events are often ruined as 'freedom of the press' ethic is applied as the power to grab and sell multiple copies of any original work that shows up on a factory door-step, and lead any interested parties onto stage. (?) The person should be allowed to choose her own reading, apart from the 'dreams' of 'just-ice' factions(?)to use stepping-stone tactics as means of personal advancement.

Well, drop down and get 'cha eagle on, girl!

Oh Seven

2005-10-16T15:20:00.000-07:00

I promised Berry at ChapterToo.blogspot.com that I'd participate in this cool self-reflect-and-share meme I discovered on her blog. Unfortunately, I'm too swamped with a project this weekend to do the entire thing, but here are my #1 responses to Berry's...

Oh Seven...

1. Something I plan to do before I die: I dream of living in Amsterdam, not that I've ever been there. It's just that two of the most intriguing people I've met on this entire planet were from Amsterdam. They were both young white women; neither seemed to "know" she was "white." It was the coolest thing; they baffled me. I'm so sick of the color issue in America. So Amsterdam may be my "soul mate city." Maybe it's more of a colorblind meltingpot.

2. Something I know how to do: Marketing proposals using PowerPoint. That's what I've been doing all weekend, and must return to it shortly. The people I'm doing this for were ecstatic with my first draft a few hours ago. They had no idea how quickly I threw that thing together. I did in 48-hrs. what normal people do in a week.

3. Something I cannot do: I can't ice skate, can't really rollerblade either. Waaaaa. Waa. Waaaaaa. I've tried both enough times to have figured it out, too. Pisses me off because I rollerskate fairly well. Thought the skill would transfer over. Wonder if something's wrong with how my ankles are made...

4. What attracts me to the opposite sex: Enthusiastic, multi-faceted conversation. I most appreciate a man whose spirit, interest and intellect can move with me from Farakhan to car repair to co-worker issues to J Live, then we crack up singing "A-B-C" by the Jackson Five together -- all within 30 minutes.

5. Something I say most often: "Thank you." But my friend's 15-year-old niece told her to stop saying "thanks" all the time 'cause people take it as a sign of weakness...? "Lawwwwd today," is all I can say to that. (And that's my other favorite saying.)

6. Celebrity Crushes: Tyson Beckford. He kissed me on the lips once and I came this close to going to jail. Had to fight back my inner-slut to keep from jumping his bones right there, outdoors on 3rd Avenue. In front of everybody.

7. People I'd like to see do this exercise: Rocky, my doggie.

Rocky thinks he's a person. I think he thinks he's a little Prince, and I'm his servant, the spoiled brat... (That's mommie's mookie! smooch-smooch)

Sean Paul: All Hail "The Trinity"

2005-10-15T17:36:00.000-07:00

While reading Newsweek online today, a reggae dancehall story featuring superstars Sean Paul and Damian "Junior Gong" Marley naturally caught my attention. Nice piece "introducing" the music, but as is often the case, I came away from it feeling a little like Jadakiss, asking WHY?...

Why does black music that's been around as long as dirt suddenly become "official" once the mainstream media finally catches on? Dancehall has been on fire for decades. Why are they just blood clot writing about it, as if it just swooped down from Mars?
Why didn't someone the article referred to learn a Major Lesson from hip-hop: black folk don't create "fad" sounds any longer. What we do is mad creative and evolutionary; it's not a "here today" trend, gone tomorrow. Even the Blues is still firmly planted, worldwide.
Why did the article similarly quote nay-saying reggae fans, who believe people like Sean Paul are selling out, ruining dancehall by making it more accessible (i.e., commercial). Years ago, a so-called "hip-hop expert" told me Jay-Z was no more good once he came out with songs like Change the Game. I thought this person was totally nuts (or deaf) at the time, but now know I should have just said, "Shut up, fool! Jigga's 'bout to laugh your snobby ass all the way to the World dag-blasted Bank of Def Jam."
And Why for chrissakes in the Newsweek article did it almost sound like dancehall legends such as Yellowman, Beenie Man and Shabba Ranks had a just a handful of fans, when these cats were the third largest export out of Jamaica since forever. Right behind Bob Marley and, yaw know... that Bob Marley.

Don't know Why either? Well, just enjoy the article. It's a very nice piece, really. Just a got me thinking a little, that's all.

C. DeLores Tucker - Philadelphia's Finest

2005-10-14T06:13:00.000-07:00

The civil rights community mourns the passing of political activist C. DeLores Tucker, 78, who died Wednesday near Philadelphia.

Most people may remember Dr. Tucker as the woman who spoke out vehemently against gangsta rap in the mid-nineties, particularly against the NAACP's nomination of Tupac Shakur for an award.
But the politically aware knew of this firey national champion for the people long before then. In fact, she had close ties to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his family -- marched right next to him in Selma.

I had the honor of working with Dr. Tucker a couple of times years ago in her capacity as board chairman and founder of Philly's Martin Luther King Center for Nonviolence. This statuesque woman was no joke. She was graceful and personable, but not at all one to skirt around an issue.

Known for always wearing an elegant turban, she looked more like she'd started out strutting across a models' catwalk than storming the halls of Congress or corporate America. But she didn't. She started out staring down racial discrimination at the tender age of sixteen.

Job well done, Mother Tucker. In fact, with all due respect, you did it fabulously gangsta -- as one of the boldest and baddest ever. R.I.P.

If Bush had a hammer, he'd a hammered Matt Lauer

2005-10-13T13:25:00.000-07:00

The one morning that I don't watch NBC's Today Show, George Bush acts like Nas got to him: shook, made to look. Like a doe trapped by headlights. Justa blinking, betrayed by his body language.

Here's how the Washington Post tells the story of the Prez's obvious discomfort yesterday during Matt Lauer's interview, which took place in NOLA where Bush had been hammering away at a new home for a Katrina victim:

The president was a blur of blinks, taps, jiggles, pivots and shifts.... When Lauer asked if Bush, after a slow response to Katrina, was "trying to get a second chance to make a good first impression," Bush blinked 24 times in his answer. When asked why Gulf Coast residents would have to pay back funds(?!?) but Iraqis would not, Bush blinked 23 times and hitched his trousers up by the belt. When the questioning turned to (Supreme Court nominee Harriett) Miers, Bush blinked 37
times in a single answer...

Guess I'll watch the Today Show tomorrow. Wanna see if Matt's head shows any dents. 'Cause if Bush had a hammer, he'd a hammered Matt that morning. He'd a hammered Matt that evening, all over this land...

---------------------------------------

My, but it's gettin' hot in herre. Check out what Minister Farrakhan says he's been given proof of: Bomb, Not Katrina, Broke Dyke.

"They found two types of explosives used by the military," he said, without naming the source, adding that an 8m crater had been blown in the dyke.

Blink... Blink-blink... Blink?

OutKast: Boys Gone "Idlewild"

2005-10-13T05:40:00.000-07:00

If your old soul aches for treasures from days gone by, try the all-new OutKast. They're gearing up to release the 1930s-inspired single from their forthcoming film, Idlewild. The soundtrack hits on December 6; the film premieres a month later, in January.

The exceptionally talented rap duo, Andre 3000 and Big Boi, told Rolling Stone magazine this:

The first single, "Idlewild Blues," is a jazzy romp loaded with drum stomps, muffled trumpets and piano; Dre gives his best Cab Calloway impersonation, and Big flips his hallmark spitfire rhymes. "It's a juke-joint jam," says Big. "I don't know if you can categorize it as a rap song."

Well, tis almost the season: they're (almost) baaaaaaaaaaack! And coming back in jazz mode, too?

By the way, didn't you just love Dre's hip-hop instrumental take on My Favorite Things on his half of the double-CD? I plan to soon compile my list of Best Drum Programming in a Hip-hop Track. This phenomenal beat will be near the top of that list.

Neo Soul: Is It Live or Memorex?

2005-10-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

There's a stimulating discussion starting over at Neo Soul Today, and if you're a fan of this music, you probably have your own two-cent to add. Basically, the question has been posed, "Should the word 'Neo' be dropped from the term 'Neo Soul'?"

In certain music circles, this conversation is getting about as heated as the smoke-free restaurant issue. Soon, people will start ceding from the Rhythm Nation. Watch: somebody's gonna design a separate flag over this one day and take up arms!

Personally, I'm an advocate for keeping the term Neo Soul. When I'm digging through the "Soul" crates at my favorite music store, I'd like that to remain a pure stroll down Memory Lane, a treasure hunt through classics that have withstood the test of time. This should remain a special, private club for the likes of Smokey Robinson, Al Green, Isaac Hayes, The Emotions, and Betty Wright.

When I'm feeling the urge for something new, I like the idea of having a separate section to search, full of young innovators such as Musiq, Angie Stone, Yahzarah, Glenn Lewis, Joss Stone, and Conya Doss.

As wonderful as they are, it just doesn't seem fitting to place them in the same club as Johnny Taylor or Dianna Ross. And I would think the new artists, out of utmost respect for the legends, would be okay with being classified Neo Soul, too.

What say you?

Alicia Keys couldn't even keep this "secret"

2005-10-12T14:16:00.000-07:00

Alicia Keys may not tell your secrets, but this racy mannequin in the window of a Victoria's Secret store is talking up a controversial storm. Located in the tony Tyson's Corner mall outside of D.C., this (pantless) boudoir-themed window pants hot and heavy -- just three doors down from Gap Kids.

Soccer moms, church ladies, et al are up in arms; local talk shows are overwhelmed with hysterical callers. Not so surprisingly, Victoria's not-so-secretive windows are sparking protests and calls for a boycott. They've all but called Jesse Jackson... (Oops, wrong crowd :-)

A quote in Newsweek from one of the nervous Nellies:

"Where do they go next, live sex acts in the window?" asks Andrea Lafferty, executive director of the conservative Traditional Values Coalition in Washington, D.C.

And if they do, they ought to call A. Keys! Not only does Alicia have the purrrrfect song for this edgy V.S. marketing campaign, she certainly has looks as lovely as this dolly in the window.

George Bush Doesn't Like DVDs

2005-10-11T05:39:00.000-07:00

A recent issue of Newsweek carried a piece about the nail-bitting that went on among George Bush's staff toward the end of his last, notorious vacation. Sounds like they all but played Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who'd "win" the painful job of telling the boss that 1.) he clearly was out of the loop about the disaster then unfolding along the Gulf Coast, so 2.) he'd have to cut short his vacation.

That's because, as Newsweek wrote:

... Bush prides himself in ignoring the distracting chatter, the caterwauling of the media elites, the Washington political buzz machine. He has boasted that he doesn't read the papers. But it is not clear what President Bush does read or watch, aside from the occasional biography and an hour or two of ESPN here and there.

So members of Bush's staff made up a DVD of Hurricane Katrina newscasts. So that he could catch-up while on Air Force One, en route to the Gulf Coast.

That's probably when his Laffy Taffy Condi Gurl came up for air, saying "Oh, give me that DVD -- you can't handle the truth. Here. Watch this one instead!"

So here's the DVD collection I imagine the good Doctor Rize might have popped up with, so homie would feel at ease before hitting the Big Easy:

Perhaps KanYe should have asked Madame Dominatrix here... Who says George Bush doesn't like people in black? Particularly of the sexy, WMD boot-wearing variety.

Eat Cool J Cookies

2005-10-10T18:09:00.000-07:00

Forget Oreos. Eat Cool J Cookies!Remember that line of The Toddster's, from back in the day? I sure do... For some odd reason, it's one of my favorite rap lines of all time.

I heard that classic cut of LL's on the radio a few days ago, and giggled like a school girl. And haven't been able to get the line out of my head since. I knew I'd have to post it here, but had no idea in what context I could just up and write: "Forget Oreos. Eat Cool J Cookies!" Until now...

I stumbled upon this post at ClayCane.blogspot.com, and knew right away: Here's my chance to sneak in Uncle L's crazy line. So here's an excerpt from Clay's entry about the VH1 Hip-hop Honors show, which I haven't caught yet:

They began by honoring the original kat daddy of hip-hop ... yes, lawd ... LL Cool J. An excellent imitation of LL came from Nelly who was letting everyone know he is the "NEW BITCH" for hip-hop butch queen body! Sadly, Wanda "Ciara" Sykes flopped all over the stage looking like a back-back-back-up dancer for the Pussy Cat Dolls. LL hits the stage and .......... DAMN ... Apollonia called me immediately saying: "I WANT HIM ON TOP OF ME!" I admitted between Nelly with all the body and over 35 year-old body from LL Cool J -- I was grinding on the couch!!! Yes, lawddddddddddddd! Also, his performance gave me the time to acknowledge his flawless nose job! Go ahead, LL you snatch the trophy for butch queen face over 30!

I think Clay's already forgotten Oreos and is like, "Cookie! Me want cookie!!"

Thanks, Clay, for the highly entertaining wrap-up of the show. That was mad hilarious. Hell, made me feel I was right there watching it, too.

New from Me'Shell: "Dance of the Infidels"

2005-10-07T14:56:00.000-07:00

The season's changed; who can believe it's already October? But suddenly, Neo Soul fans feel the music landscape's heating up, given the warm reception the jazz world is giving Meshell Ndegeocello, whose Dance of the Infidels debuted recently.

And in she apparently flits, like the graceful butterfly adorning her new CD art. Like the monarch, Meshell's metamorphosis seems complete, with her drawing startling, new comparisons to no less than Miles Davis and Weather Report.

This is not the soul surviving Me'Shell NdegeOcello we knew, but a heavy-weight diva who doesn't even sing or drop spoken-word science on this set. Rather, this fierce bassist orchestrates the likes of Cassandra Wilson and Lalah Hathaway in providing the jazz vocals.

As composer-producer, she also brought in legendary drummer Jack DeJohnette, whose collaborations read like a Who's Who including Keith Jarrett, Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea.

Whether you're a highly discriminating jazz fan and/or a die-hard Meshell fanatic, don't miss these massive CD reviews in which Meshell's already winning critical acclaim:

Amazon
Village Voice

ViqiFrench

New Dwele CD: "Some Kinda" baby-maker

2005-10-06T20:24:00.000-07:00

Yup: Dwele's new CD, Some Kinda, is a one-hundred percent Neo Soul baby-maker. It's that intimate, that seductive. Music to make passionate love to. Honestly, this is a first-to-last track aphrodisiac in a manner I've not heard since Marvin Gaye's hypnotic I Want You, a soul music classic.

Some Kinda is a jazzy, funky, purring mindf***. In today's bumptious hip-hop world, this sultry CD is a subtle but powerful charmer. The strong silent type.

Ladies, Dwele is quite the sensuous crooner. The man coos everything you wish your guy would open up and say. In other words, Dwele's got major game. The kind you'd kick Boris Kodjoe, Shemar Moore, and Brad Pitt to the curb for, if Dwele approached you in a club whispering words this way.

Fellas, if you're planning the night when you'll make your big move on a new lady in your life, get this CD. Don't mean to be crass, but by the time the second or third track ends, you ought to hear Victoria's Secret being whispered in your ear. You'll be smoking those proverbial cigarettes well before Dwele reaches track fifteen...

CD Review continued at Amazon.com

ViqiFrench.com

Looking for Dat Laffy Taffy?

2005-10-06T14:18:00.000-07:00

Billboard:
Want Dat Laffy Taffy post?
Click this Archive file.

Ummm... bubble gummy!

PS The only treat I'm giving out this Halloween is:
In order to get some, kids have to show me The Laffy Taffy Dance!

Jay-Z in Fortune magazine

2005-10-05T21:51:00.000-07:00

Not to be upstaged by his R&B paramour, Beyonce, rap mogul Shawn Carter gets a major magazine cover of his own: Fortune. Reporter Nadira Hira was given the immense honor of free range to Hova's corporate life for several weeks. Here's a sample of the killer, two-part, upcoming story she filed, titled America's Hippest CEO:

"The fans are loving it. On a warm Sunday evening in June, one of hip-hop’s hottest stars, Kanye West, is spitting rhymes for 50,000 fans at Giants Stadium in East Rutherford, N.J. West is a bona fide superstar: three Grammys for his first album, millions in sales, a Time cover in the works. But all of a sudden, the crowd turns away from him. A single figure has run onto the stage, prompting such a deafening roar that West is forced to stop and join the adulation, leading the crowd in a chant of “Hova! Hova!”—shorthand for J-Hova, the latest self-styled nickname of the rapper Jay-Z. Though West is the headliner, it is Jay-Z who steals the show.
The next morning at 9:30 a.m., at the Midtown Manhattan offices of Def Jam Recordings, which distributes Kanye West’s music, Jay-Z’s weekend appearance is all the buzz. Two dozen staffers, gathered for their weekly meeting in the 28th-floor conference room, gossip about the god-worship. Yet when their boss strides in, fresh from his regular 8 a.m. briefing, he calmly rifles through the agenda—planning, budgets, promotional deals—ignoring the Giants Stadium frenzy. Which is a little odd, given that the boss is a man named Shawn Carter—better known as Jay-Z himself. Welcome to the year’s most intriguing corner-office experiment..."

A producer-friend and I were discussing The Game recently, when he commented that "rap music is the new basketball," the stairway to super-stardom that many young men dream of climbing. If this is true, then Jay-Z parallels Michael Jordan on several levels. To quote his insight from the remix of Diamonds Are Forever: I ain't a businessman, I'm a business, man.

To that truism, high fives everywhere slap hard and high.

Link: Rapping with Jay-Z: 'Life Is the Bridge of a Song'

ViqiFrench.com

I, Beyonce

2005-10-04T19:40:00.000-07:00

The words "Don't hold back, Beyonce. Free your inner Tina now!" crossed my mind while reading the highlights of Beyonce Knowles's cover story in the upcoming issue of Vanity Fair. Now that she's a solo act, it sounds as though she'll unleash her inner Tina Turner on the world. Here's a snippet about the article, which will surely sell the magazine like hotcakes:

"Sultry soul and hip hop vocalist, Beyonce Knowles, whose musical background is rooted in gospel singing, wears some revealing outfits in the magazine spread, but said she sees no conflict between her religious devotion and her sexy image.

“When I go back to Houston and go to church and see those people, I feel like the same country girl,” said the 24-year-old Texan, who becomes ‘Sasha’ on stage.

I always held back in Destiny’s Child, because I was comfortable in a group and felt that I didn’t have to do anything 100 percent, because there were other people on stage with me. I would not lose myself or go all the way,” she said.

With this zesty spirit, Beyonce -- who calls her exuberant stage personality "Sasha" -- deserves a You Go Girl award. I doubt that Jay-Z is like Ike, but his girl "Sasha," who flatly denies their being married or engaged in Vanity Fair, seems to have the rock stardom of in her future.

ViqiFrench.com

August Wilson and Ma Rainy's Musical Legacy

2005-10-03T05:51:00.000-07:00

Much respect and pride today for the cultural legacy of playwright extraordinairre August Wilson, who at 60, succumbed to liver cancer yesterday in Seattle. His landmark 1984 play, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, was the first in a ten-works vision chronicling the the Black experience in America.

Wilson successfully fulfilled his dream, with the last play in the series, Radio Golf, opening to rave reviews last Spring at Yale Repertory Theater.

Set in a Chicago recording studio in 1927, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom tells the story of a recording session with blues legend Ma Rainey, her band members, and the white producer and agent who made themselves wealthy through Rainey’s recordings. The play explores race relations in 1920s America and the complexities of living the African American part of that equation.

Of particular note, Wilson’s character, Levee, embodies the aspirations and disappointments of Black males during that era and, arguably, today. Wilson pit Levee against Ma Rainey, the band members, and the whites, examining various stripes of inter- and intra-racial conflict.

Wilson loved music and once said this: "Take jazz or blues; you can't disregard that part of the African-American experience, or even try to transcend it. They are affirmations and celebrations of the value and worth of the African-American spirit. And young people would do well to understand them as the roots of today's rap, rather than some antique to be tossed away."

Well, he can rest assured that his and "Levee's" perspective is well represented and maturing. Multi-platinum artist Nasir Jones and his dad, jazz trumpeter Olu Dara, fairly recently hit it big with the blues-heavy track Bridging the Gap. Now, His Ye-Ness has churned out Gold Digger, a song also rooted in Ma Rainy's tradition, communicating aspects of the vast African American male story as powerfully as Wilson had.

To honor his numerous achievements, Broadway's Virginia Theater will be renamed the August Wilson Theater. The new marquee will be unveiled Oct. 17.

ViqiFrench.com

Club Candy for Mary Jane Girls: Laffy Taffy

2005-10-02T01:05:00.000-07:00

First the Teletubbies on cocaine (packaging), now this.
Looks like kiddie themes are "in" for grown-ups with vices.
Well, I guess that's nothing really new. But D4L has taken a sweet thing to a whole 'nother sticky level.
The group's new pared down, bouncy wonder,
Dat Laffy Taffy (Candy Gurl)
is bananas with the peel unzipped!

Artist: D4L
Song: Shake That Laffy Taffy

Dat laffy taffy [candy gurl]

Gurl shake dat laffy taffy
Dat laffy taffy
Shake dat laffy taffy
Dat laffy taffy
Gurl shake dat laffy taffy
Dat laffy taffy
Dat laffy taffy[candy gurl]
Dat laffy taffy

I'm lookin fa mrs. bubble gum
I'm mr.chik-o-stick
I wanna (dun dun dunt)[oh]
Cuz you so thick
Gurlz call me Jolly Rancher...

Sorry, but you'll have to get the rest of these lyrics elsewhere. LOL
Try the sex shop a few blogs to the right ~~~~~~~~>

Acid Jazz Tubbies -- Emphasis on the "Jazzed"

2005-09-30T23:50:00.000-07:00

I always felt these lovey-dovey chubbies mighty shady. All that surreal floating -- not that I watch 'em. But the once or twice I stopped to observe out of curiosity, I was certain they (or their production parents) were just... crack-ish.

Now the truth shall set a them free: The Teletubbies are definitely -- and literally -- "on" something! This just in from TheSmokingGun.com:

Teletubbies In Cocaine Bust
PBS darlings image adorns packages seized in drug cartel arrests

"While we knew that Tinky Winky was gay, TSG was unaware of the Teletubbies cocaine connection. When federal officials in New York yesterday announced the arrest of 22 members of an international drug cartel, they revealed that cocaine shipments seized by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents were labeled with a sweet portrait of the colorful cartoon quartet. The photos, snapped by ICE investigators, show the ring's distinctive branding of its product. Frankly, we always suspected that degenerate Laa-Laa was hoovering-up her residual checks. This, of course, is not the first time an iconic image has been appropriated by drug dealers. Remember the Harry Potter bust? Or the time they got bin Laden?"

This book club's a biotch

2005-09-30T13:12:00.000-07:00

I got a kick out of the Petite Bee's spokesman saying he'd recently created a reading list for her. Given her something more to ruminate while a victim of The Wicked System. Then, after seemingly being pressed for titles, he cited these hotties:

The Autobiography of Malcolm X

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom

Nice list, right? I'm thinking Kimmie could wind up with both a Martha and an Oprah moment. This could be the accidental jumpoff of an influential new book club. You know, the Queen B. reads them while on lock, then gives the world a thumbs up or down. Everybody's still connected and more enlightened. Yes-yes, y'all. From Sing-Sing.

I like this! If I learn of any further Royal Reading Selections, will let you know.

New book: Fela Anikulapo-Kuti

2005-09-29T06:32:00.000-07:00

The first concert I ever attended starred James Brown -- splits, cape tossing, doing the Camel Walk and all. Few live performances I've experienced could touch that of the Godfather of Soul's, which registered a 10 on my Richter Scale of music events...

That is, until I saw Fela and his stellar Afrobeat orchestra live in Philly, accompanied by about a dozen of his twirling/dancing/harmonizing wives! (Not shown in that word picture: the rest of Fela's 27 wives, who may have been home in Lagos, nor his bikini briefs and gold chain attire.)

What can I say? The man was loved. Not just by the ladies, the slamming percusionists, and JB-ish horn masters storming the concert stage around him, but by people the world over. Which is why, almost eight years after his death, another tome about this Nigerian visionary has been published.

Clasically trained in London and influenced by Miles Davis, James Brown, and Malcolm X, Fela Kuti became a champion for the people. He was arrested more than 200 times and savagely beaten for his political outspokeness. Here's a bit about the latest, must-read book deconstructing this legendary figure and his whirl:

"Arrest the Music! is a lively study of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, one of Africa's most popular and controversial musicians. The flamboyant originator of the "Afrobeat" sound and self-proclaimed voice of the voiceless, Fela used music, sharp-tongued lyrics, and derisive humor to challenge the shortcomings of the Nigerian and postcolonial African states.

Looking at the social context, instrumentation, lyrics, visual art, and people through which Fela produced his music, author Tejumola Olaniyan offers a wider, more suggestive perspective on Fela and his impact on listeners in all parts of the world. With Fela front and center, Olaniyan underscores important social issues such as authenticity, racial and cultural identity, the relationship of popular culture to radical politics, and the meaning of postcolonialism, nationalism, and globalism in contemporary Africa.

About the Author: Tejumola Olaniyan is Professor of English and African Languages and Literatures at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. He is author of Scars of Conquest/Masks of Resistance: The Invention of Cultural Identities in African, African-American, and Caribbean Drama and co-editor (with John Conteh-Morgan) of African Drama and Performance (Indiana University Press, 2004)."

For more book info log on to: www.cafeafricana.com

To hear Fela Kuti's music, click in the sidebar section, on the cover art titled, BEST Best of Fela.

And please do not sleep the CD Red, Hot + Riot. This musical tribute to Fela features his son Femi Kuti, who's joined by a super-tight line up of artists: Bilal, Macy Gray, Roy Hargrove, Nile Rodgers, Me'Shell Ndegeocello, Common, Baaba Maal, Kelis, D'Angelo, Talib Kweli. Proceeds from sales support AIDS awareness.

Happy Birthday to Modern Music

2005-09-28T06:41:00.000-07:00

Imagine our world without the various music styles we know and love today. Would we be liftin' every voice to sing Vivaldi? Hazin' on purple Haydn? Maybe bangin' Bach on the block? Sounds bananas, right? Well, this is precisely why a worldwide shout-out goes today to brother William Christopher Handy, who on this day in 1912 published the sheet music that started it all: The Memphis Blues! He single-handedly changed the music game beyond compare.

Unfortunately, W.C. Handy was hoodwinked back then, barely made any money from the new-fangled song triggering the music revolution that birthed every genre from Jazz to R&B to Rock. But this genius composer is probably tickling the big ivories in the sky today if he's listening to all that His Ye-Ness -- the Kan man -- has sparked with a bluesy collabo featuring Jamie Foxx, titled Gold Digger.

Peep this rendition of Gold Digger to understand just how far the Memphis Blues has taken us: George Bush Doesn't Like Black People.

Way to go, Cool Papa Handy - Father of The Blues! We still singin' your praises, and the type of songs you knew so well: "I ain't sayin' Bush a gold digger. But he ain't messin' with no broke-broke!"

ViqiFrench.com