A free King Britt download

Producer/remixer King Britt, the former DJ for Digable Planets, put out a CD in 2005 called “King Britt Presents: Sister Gertrude Morgan.”

What he did was, he took an obscure 1970 a cappella LP by an eccentric New Orleans gospel singer and folk artist – that would be Sister Gertrude – and he constructed a psychedelic hip-hop soundscape around her vocals. (Similar to what Moby did on his “Play” project.)

The result is pretty doggone cool. Click here to hear “Let’s Make a Record” streaming on my Vox blog.

To download the track as a FREE MP3, click the song title below.

“Let’s Make a Record” (MP3)
Album available at iTunes Music Store
Album available at eMusic
Album available at Amazon

Something sweet from Minnie Riperton

I tip my chapeau to Mes Deux Cents, a blogger with fine taste in music. She finds the coolest clips on YouTube, including this performance of “Memory Lane” – one of my favorite Minnie Riperton tunes.

If you know the song, you’ll be waiting for Minnie to nail those high notes. Boy oh boy, does she nail ’em.

MBP of the Week: Toronto Star

On Monday, the Toronto Star printed an Associated Press report about entertainers who might’ve used steroids. Mary J. Blige was one of the entertainers mentioned.

Alas, the Toronto Star didn’t run a picture of Mary J. Blige. The Toronto Star ran a picture of Keyshia Cole and said it was Mary J. Blige.

Here is the correction the Star published yesterday:

“As a result of wrong information provided by Reuters, singer Keyshia Cole was mistakenly identified as Mary J. Blige in a photo published Jan. 14. The Star regrets the error.”

Hat-tip: Craig Silverman at Regret the Error.

You might recall that three weeks ago, the Toronto Star misidentified a photo of Bow Wow as Omarion. What do you think, should I let the Canadians slide from now on? It’s hard enough for Americans to get this stuff right.

‘The Boondocks’ vs. BET

Saber-toothed satirist Aaron McGruder is fixing to chew up on BET in the January 28th episode of “The Boondocks.”

The shit seems to be personal; McGruder goes after his old show-business mentor, filmmaker Reginald Hudlin (BET’s current programming chief).

McGruder mocks him with a character named “Weggie Rudlin,” a Harvard-educated shuck-and-jive artist who takes pride in ripping off “all the shitty reality shows MTV did five years ago.”

(Ouch.)

This episode, titled “The Hunger Strike,” has Huey Freeman boycotting BET.

I have no idea what the personal beef is about. Not only is Reggie Hudlin a credited executive producer of “The Boondocks,” but he and McGruder collaborated (along with illustrator Kyle Baker) on a 2004 “comic novel” called “Birth of a Nation.”

Regardless of the backstory, this episode is bound to be talked about. Here is a 2½-minute preview:

Salute to TV writers: ‘SCTV’

I’ve been a fan of sketch comedy going back to “The Carol Burnett Show” and Flip Wilson.

And I’m grateful to have witnessed the dawn of a New Age for sketch comedy... thanks to “Saturday Night Live” and the Not Ready For Prime Time Players.

Key members of that troupe (Dan Aykroyd, John Belushi, Gilda Radner and Bill Murray) came out of the Second City improv companies in Chicago and Toronto.

Soon, some of their old Second City cousins got their own show: “SCTV.” (It blows my mind that Belushi had performed onstage with Joe Flaherty, and Aykroyd had done scenes with John Candy, Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara.)

As part of my continuing salute to television writers, I’m streaming audio of a 5-minute sketch from the second season of “SCTV” (1978). It’s a game-show parody called “High-Q,” and it was written by Catherine O’Hara. To this day, cast members consider this one of their funniest sketches.

Click here to hear it.

The scene is available on the DVD collection “SCTV: Volume 1, Network 90.”

Something silly from Dave Chappelle

Here’s a flashback to 1992, post-L.A. riots... the early days of HBO’s “Def Comedy Jam.” Chappelle was brand new to New York City, and he hadn’t yet turned 20! Young’un had it poppin’ even then.

Gov. Romney’s compassion for the Negro

I’m not talking about Mitt. I’m talking about his daddy, George Romney, former governor of Michigan.

In 1967, while preparing to seek the Republican nomination for the presidency, Gov. Romney addressed a conference of Mormons in Alaska. (Seriously.)

Considered a “liberal Republican,” George Romney – along with his wife, Lenore – “spoke with compassion of the plight of Negro slum dwellers,” wrote David Broder in the Washington Post (February 20, 1967).

“Mrs. Romney, who quoted the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, said [America] will be judged not by its achievements in space or weaponry but its ability to prove that ‘we can live in brotherhood.’ ”

Pretty cool, huh?

And then Gov. Romney told the Alaskan Mormons this: “[Y]ou have no idea what conditions are in the ghettos of the East. You have no idea what it means for a child to reach the first grade with a vocabulary of 20 words. Racial discrimination is our gravest social injustice.”

Ummm... what? A “vocabulary of 20 words”?

A 2-year-old child with Down syndrome has more than a 20-word vocabulary. (True. I looked it up on the Internet.)

So what the hell was George Romney talking about? Or maybe his “magic underwear” was riding up?

I wonder what kind of conversations about race young Mitt heard around the family dinner table?

Adventures of the... EXCEPTIONAL 4!

Part One: WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE
Life is nothing close to normal ever since I joined the League of Exceptional Negroes of America.

Any time of day or night, whenever I hear that special ringtone, I have to haul ass to Headquarters, regardless of whatever else I’m doing.

Didn’t take me long to understand why Chapp-El up and quit. The pressure’s a bitch. But even on the roughest days, I’m grateful that Chapp-El bowed out.

Sure, L.E.N.A. could’ve used that $50 million. But nobody wanted to see him end up like MJ. Lord knows we all run that risk.

Besides, Chapp-El’s departure opened up a spot for me in the elite operations unit... the Exceptional 4! And there is no higher calling for a race man.

The sliding doors hummed open, and the bare whiteness of the White Room made my eyes hurt. No furniture here except four white barstools... and an 80-inch plasma TV on the wall.

My body wanted to be back in bed.

I was the second to arrive. Tiger-Man was in a corner, bouncing a golf ball off the head of his sand wedge... a habit that was annoying as fuck on the best of days.

“You know what it’s about?” I asked him, pulling a loose Nat Sherman cigarette out of my shirt pocket.

“No idea,” said Tiger-Man, steady bouncing that ball in the air for no damn reason.

“Three in the fuckin’ morning,” I sighed, lighting up. I envied Tiger-Man for his Zen-like serenity.

Then a voice came from behind me: “You need to take better care of your body, UBM.” It was the Fresh Prince, strutting through the sliding doors like it was lunchtime. “I mean, damn... look at yourself.”

“Stress, bitch,” I said. “Read up on it.”

“What you got to be stressed about?” said the Fresh Prince. “You probably caught a cab to get here!” He chuckled.

I know some dudes talk just to be talking. But my brain needed warming up, so I answered back: “Yeah, cabs don’t pass me by. That’s why I work deep behind enemy lines. I walk amongst ’em, feel me? I wear the mask.”

As I took a quick hit of nicotine, Fresh Prince pantomimed playing a violin. Like I wanted him to cry me a river.

“Okay, let’s trade places,” I said. “You go undercover, let me be the movie star, signing autographs and shit.”

“I’m talkin’ about your health, brother,” the Fresh Prince said. “All I’m sayin’.”

“He’s right,” said Tiger-Man. “You really ought to lose 50 or 60 pounds.”

I tilted my head at Tiger-Man. “What, so I can marry a blonde bitch?”

“Ohhh shit!” The Fresh Prince rasied a hand to his mouth and buckled his knees for comic effect. As I took a long drag of smoke, Tiger-Man caught the golf ball with his left hand and approached me calmly. Fresh Prince kept on laughing and woofing.

As I blew smoke off to the side, Tiger-Man gently tapped my chest with his club head. “I didn’t hear that last thing you said. Can you repeat it?”

“I’m sorry, Tiger-Man. I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just wish I was back in bed, that’s all.”

“Ride a bike,” said the Fresh Prince.

“Suck a dick,” said me.

The sliding doors hummed open. In walked Baraka. Still in an instigating mood, the Fresh Prince said to him: “Yo, Baraka. Where’s the pillow?”

“What pillow?”

“The one you been sittin’ on ever since Hillary tapped that ass?”

The Fresh Prince let out a cackling laugh, and I started laughing too. Even Tiger-Man cracked a smile. Baraka did not.

“I got something for Miss Ann, don’t you worry,” he said.

Then a thought hit me, and I opened up my arms. “Hey... is this about you, Baraka? You the reason we’re here at three in the morning?”

“I don’t know why we’re here.”

Tiger-Man moved towards Baraka, waving his club the way a teacher would a yardstick. “You don’t go into battle against Whitey,” he said, “until you’re prepared in your mind to bury every last one of the pale-eyed sons-of-bitches.”

“I am prepared,” Baraka said, self-assured as always. “I was born prepared.”

“Yeah, right,” the Fresh Prince said. “Prepared for another ass-whuppin’ or two. That’s what you better be prepared for!”

I dropped my cigarette, stamped it out. “Dammit, didn’t I say it? Didn’t I tell her? I knew it was too early for that operation.”

“Yep,” said the Fresh Prince, nodding.

“We should’ve waited till 2012. Didn’t I say so?” I was stabbing the air with my finger to get my point across.

“Well, you fellas don’t call the shots around here, do you?” Baraka sat on a barstool, easy as you please.

Pretty soon, the four of us were talking over each other, rehashing old arguments... until a strong female voice cut through our noise with “Negroes, please!” It boomed out of the surround-sound speakers like the voice of Moses.

In unison, our four heads jerked toward the plasma-screen TV. And there was our leader: “O.”

“This is not about Baraka,” she said. “And I don’t want to hear any pissing and moaning about that operation. I just need you to be ready when called upon. Understood?”

The Fresh Prince said, “You right, you right.” I nodded my head also.

“So what do you need us to do?” asked Tiger-Man.

“This is about Wesley Snipes. Whitey’s got him up against a wall,” said “O.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Baraka asked.

“Yeah,” said the Fresh Prince. “Wesley’s not an Exceptional Negro. Not even close. His movies go straight-to-video.”

“He may not be Exceptional, but he has information the crackers can use to hurt us,” our leader said. “Wesley must be silenced. By any means necessary.”

“What kind of information?” asked Baraka.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” she replied. “You have to act fast. His tax trial starts tomorrow. Wesley’s looking at 16 years in federal prison.”

I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I had to ask: “Information about Denz-El?”

“O” made a sound of exasperation. “UBM, what part of ‘need-to-know’ don’t you understand?”

“I’m just saying, if it’s Denz-El’s problem, he should be the one to handle it,” I said.

“I want to make this absolutely clear,” she said in a biting voice. “If Wesley Snipes tells the white boys what he knows... it could spell the end of the League of Exceptional Negroes of America.”

Tiger-Man, Baraka, the Fresh Prince and I exchanged looks of concern. We knew what had to be done. ...

Salute to TV writers: ‘Hill Street Blues’

Two shows made me want to write for television: “Hill Street Blues” and “St. Elsewhere.” I studied them talmudically, ever since my college days. I’ve got every episode on tape.

With those drama series, I also started paying attention to the writing credits. And I became aware that “Hill Street Blues” drew its storytellers from the wider world of letters: Novelist Robert Crais, movie writer Walon Green, literature professor John Romano, magazine journalists Robert Ward and David Black, newspapermen Christian Williams and Terry Curtis Fox...

In my mind, the “Hill Street” offices must’ve been like a literary salon, with people sitting around discussing nuances of language and narrative.

Came to find out, the “Hill Street” writing offices were chaotic. The scripts were always behind schedule. Sometimes it got so bad that a boss would gather all the writers and say, “Okay, you write Act One, you write Act Two, you write Act Three, you write Act Four.”

Speaking of chaos... the chaos of the modern American city was one of the great narrative themes of “Hill Street Blues.”

I’m streaming a 2-minute audio clip from the very first scene of the very first episode. This kind of “roll call” scene would become a hallmark of the show, even after the passing of Michael Conrad, who portrayed Sgt. Phil Esterhaus.

But listen to this first one. Study how, in just a couple of pages of dialogue, Steven Bochco and Michael Kozoll set a tone for the entire series, including its acidic sense of humor and its racial frankness.

Click here to hear it. As I said before, I’m streaming audio (not video) for a purpose: to put extra focus on the words. And on the writers who put them to paper.

This pilot episode – titled “Hill Street Station” – was originally broadcast on January 15, 1981. Bochco and Kozoll won an Emmy award for the script.

A free Pyeng Threadgill download

Sometimes messing around on the intertubes is like panning for gold. I haven’t been this excited by a musical discovery since I stumbled upon Fay Victor.

Progressive singer-songwriter Pyeng Threadgill is all that and a pickle.

The daughter of avant-garde saxophonist Henry Threadgill, Pyeng told the Boston Globe in 2006: “Am I a jazz singer? I used to say no, then I said yes, and now I’m kind of thinking no again.”

I know what she means. Ms. Threadgill’s spirit of adventure and her funky sensibilities bring to mind the word “troubadour.”

She gets it from both ends of the gene pool. Pyeng’s mother is choreographer Christina Jones, a founding member of the Urban Bush Women dance company.

Click here to check out “It’s Late,” streaming on my Vox blog. This track is from Ms. Threadgill’s 2005 CD, “Of the Air.”

To download “It’s Late” as a FREE MP3, click the song title below.

“It’s Late” (MP3)
Album available at iTunes Music Store
Album available at eMusic
Album available at Amazon

White people are friendly.

Comedian Katt Williams is one of many who has commented upon the friendliness of white people. (“You can call them muthafuckas up at three in the morning with a wrong number and they won’t even be mad at you.”)

I shared a plane ride yesterday with one of the friendliest white guys of ’em all.

First, let me announce that I’m back in California... and back to full-on compulsive blogging. (Mmm... dopamine.) And I do thank the blog gods for the Phoenix-to-LAX leg of my return trip.

I was settled in an aisle seat near the front when a white dude boarded and motioned his desire for the window. I rose to let him enter; he smiled and thanked me heartily, even patting me on the shoulder.

I slid back down, thinking, “Wasn’t no need for physical contact. I’m almost sure of it.” But... whatever. Let’s fly this bitch.

Before the plane even got off the ground, Mr. Happy Window Seat struck up a conversation. “What do you do?”

Who, me?

I told him I write for television, instantly worried that the next 55 minutes would seem twice as long if Charlie stayed in a talkative temper.

Man, this guy loved to talk. And, like most people who talk too much, he was waaay more interested in himself than he was in me. So all I had to do, for the most part, was nod and seem interested.

In about 20 minutes’ time, here’s what I learned about this total stranger:

He’s from Oklahoma. He’s a dentist. He is of German ancestry. He was on his way to hook up with his girlfriend in L.A. She’s a bodybuilder. They were gonna spend time in Newport Beach, Beverly Hills and Culver City.

He has a pilot’s license. He owns a Piper jet. I forgot how many hours of flying time he has... but he told me. He is 37. He has never been married. And in 2003, he was involved in a car crash in which his girlfriend at the time was killed.

Yes. He told me this. He told me this.

Can you believe we had time to talk politics?

He volunteered the fact that he has always voted Republican. But he said he was so disgusted with the state of things that he might go a different way this time. He doesn’t like Hillary Clinton, “but I could vote for Obama.”

He didn’t have a clue I was black, because he went on to say: “The black people I know, they’re not excited about Obama. And I said, ‘Are you kidding? He’s frickin’ black!’ If I was black, I would definitely vote for Obama.”

Now here’s what I thought: If there are lots of white folks like Mr. Charlie who swear, right now, that they might vote for Barack Obama... Obama shouldn’t count on that. Because those people are just one “Tarzan” movie away from going “Uhhh... better not” when they get in the voting booth.

Just a feeling I have.

Salute to TV writers: ‘All in the Family’

Television writers went into the current strike knowing it could be a long one... knowing that the studio bosses won’t do a fair deal out of the goodness of their hearts.

But all the ups and downs and twists and turns between now and strike’s end are of diminishing interest to me.

What I’d rather do is celebrate TV writers. And remind the world of what we do... and why we deserve respect.

So, for as long as this strike continues, I’ll be shining a spotlight on some good TV writing. Starting with “All in the Family,” a brilliantly written show, a jewel of American pop culture.

I’m streaming a 4-minute audio clip from a Season 1 episode of “All in the Family.” To hear it, click here. I realize television is a visual medium, but I’m using audio for a reason: So we can focus on the words.

The clip I selected comes from Episode 8, titled “Lionel Moves Into the Neighborhood.” The credited writers are Don Nicholl and Bryan Joseph. This scene was included on an “All in the Family” LP released in the early ’70s. (Yes, my vinyl stacks are deep!)

I believe this is the first episode of the show written by Mr. Nicholl, who went on to bigger things. He and two other “All in the Family” writers – Michael Ross and Bernie West – co-wrote the pilot script for “Chico and the Man” (along with James Komack).

The partnership of “Nicholl Ross West” struck gold when it created “Three’s Company.” Don Nicholl also wrote the lyrics to the “Three’s Company” theme song. (Joe Raposo wrote the music.)

Hope y’all enjoy this flashback. And the ones to come.

A warning to the white blue-eyed devils

With the breathtaking rise of Barack Obama, I am reminded of a speech delivered 24 years ago by Minister Louis Farrakhan.

The Nation of Islam leader spoke at the headquarters of Operation PUSH in Chicago. PUSH founder Jesse Jackson was in the midst of his first presidential campaign.

Few white people had ever heard of Louis Farrakhan. In fact, February 1984 was the moment in history when Farrakhan would appear on the white media’s radar screen – never to leave it again.

Why? Because this was the time of Jesse Jackson’s “Hymietown” fiasco. It was in the context of that public-relations shitstorm that Farrakhan issued his “warning” to the U.S. government – and to “crazy Jewish elements” – to leave Jesse alone.

I own this speech in its entirety on a double-LP issued by the Nation of Islam way back then.

To hear a 2½-minute portion of Farrakhan’s warning, click here.

Barbara Jordan speaks

My thanks to commenter Cuz for reminding me about Barbara Jordan, the late Texas congresswoman.

The 1976 Democratic primaries were the first political race I ever paid attention to. At 14 years old, I dealt with it in high school. (Specifically, I remember reading about Jerry Brown in a civics class.)

The summer of ’76 – of my own volition – I watched the Democratic National Convention on TV. And I vividly recall Barbara Jordan’s keynote address. Especially when she name-checked herself in the first minute.

That speech is remembered still as one of the best political speeches of recent decades. It is one of the Top 100 catalogued speeches at AmericanRhetoric.com, whence I downloaded myself an MP3 copy.

To hear a 3½-minute excerpt of Rep. Jordan’s keynote address – delivered July 12, 1976 in New York City – click here.

To read a full transcript or download an MP3 file of the complete speech, follow this link to American Rhetoric.

I decided to post this after seeing Chris Matthews and Joe Scarborough embarrass themselves on MSNBC yesterday morning, going on and on about how Barack Obama is the most inspiring political orator they’ve ever witnessed in their lives. Matthews said he was moved to tears by an Obama stump speech this week.

Okay... reality slap: What Matthews said was the 21st-Century equivalent of praising a black man for having rhythm. Don’t believe me? Follow this link and watch it for yourself.

Coming: Adventures of the... EXCEPTIONAL 4!

They were credits to their race... but could they come through when the credit came due?? The whole world hangs in the balance!

You’ll cheer for Baraka! The Fresh Prince! Tiger-Man! And Undercover Black Man!

Don’t miss one thrilling moment as these Exceptional Negroes do battle with the forces of White Supremacy!!

Lawrence Auster presents: ‘The only hope for the betterment of the black race’

On Larry Auster’s blog tonight, my favorite right-wing cyber-guru (and defender of white civilization) has posted an email from one of his many acolytes.

This reader earnestly suggests that the only hope for American blacks is “a spiritual commitment to Jesus Christ in which the Holy Spirit purges the black soul of sin and the black psyche of historical resentment.”

Mr. Auster responds with complete agreement, declaring this “a magnificent statement.” Auster elucidates:

“The solution cannot be in the ‘horizontal’ dimension, that is, in the relationship between blacks and non-blacks, because blacks will always be behind on the level of earthly functioning, leading to unjust racial resentment on the part of blacks and undeserved racial guilt on the part of whites.

“The solution can only be found in the ‘vertical’ dimension,” he continues, “... in the relationship between each black person and God through Jesus Christ, who will put each person’s self in true order and true freedom and remove the focus on the ‘horizontal’ differences and inequalities.

“Each black person will then live and perform and fulfil himself as a human being according to his own aspirations and abilities, without comparing himself to whites.”

Now see, Fisher? You too, DeAngelo. Didn’t I say you all were wasting your time on that ouga-bouga “White Supremacy” stuff? Here is Lawrence Auster, a highly intelligent white man who wants what’s best for the blacks... he has studied the race problem long and hard, and darned if he didn’t put his finger right on a workable solution!

So why do you black-nationalist types believe that white conservatives just want to oppress and discriminate against non-white peoples? If you would only open your mind up to different... Wait a second... Hang on, Mr. Auster wasn’t finished yet.

He continues:

“This is not a complete solution, however, since the overall differences between the two groups’ respective levels of abilities and collective ethnocultural identities will persist. Therefore... structural pluralism, meaning separate development in the familial, social, residential, and even educational areas of life, would probably be appropriate....”

Ummm... okay. A return to Jim Crow. Well... it’s an idea. Whatever works, right?

Thank you for sharing, Mr. Auster. You prove once again that you are America’s boldest thinker! You go where sane bloggers fear to tread.

And now that I’m aware of your zeal for evangelizing the Negroes, I’ve signed you up for a one-year subscription to this:

UPDATE (01/10/08): At some point after I posted this, Mr. Auster amended the title of his post to read: “The only hope for the betterment of the black race (and the white race).”

A free Billie Holiday download

There’s never a wrong time to pause and listen to some Billie Holiday.

So to hear “Autumn in New York” streaming on my Vox blog, click here. It’s from the 2007 CD “The Essential Billie Holiday Collection.”

To download “Autumn in New York” as a FREE MP3, click the song title below.

“Autumn in New York” (MP3)
Album available at iTunes Music Store
Album available at eMusic

Obama’s grandmama

Couple of days ago, when I was caught up in the trippy media delusion that Barack Obama was on a fast track to the White House, thus redeeming white folks from the sin of racism (or something), making this nation once more a beacon unto the world... oh wow, I’m nostalgic for those days already.

Weren’t them fun days? On TV, it looked like some Beatlemania type shit. Women crying and passing out. You see that chick who passed out at the Obama rally? And Obama was trying to hand her a bottled water? I was like, “Whaaat?”

Last night, before the actual results came in, Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann were trying to top each other with the most grandiose metaphor for Barack Obama’s rise.

MATTHEWS: “This has brought back politics the way Muhammad Ali brought back boxing!”

OLBERMANN: “Or Tiger Woods in golf!”

Matthews later compared Obama’s Iowa victory with Lawrence of Arabia. (Oh, what a pompous windbag he is. Entertaining to watch, though.)

Anyways, even in the midst of all that, I paused long enough to wonder about Sen. Obama’s daddy, Barack, Sr. The Kenyan.

If white folks felt fine voting for Obama because, you know, he sorta resembles Will Smith, and he’s got that Tiger Woods hybrid advantage happening, and he earned the Exceptional Negro Seal of Approval from the most exceptional Negro of all – Oprah – well then, what would happen if they started seeing more of the Kenyan side, and getting reminded that Africa runs strong in Obama’s veins?

Barack the Elder is no longer alive. But imagine one of Barack the Younger’s uncles showing up on Inauguration Day dressed like a Maasai warrior and shit... with a spear, talkin’ about “I taught him how to use a machete!”

(Just playing.)

Yesterday, I found this clip on YouTube. CNN went to Kenya and chatted with Obama’s grandmother. It aired on Monday:

Hillary takes New Hampshire

Wow. The women came out strong for Hillary Clinton. And Barack Obama got dunked in some ice-cold water. This race is gonna be see-ree-us.

If the Democratic nomination is Obama’s to have, I guess it’s good that it don’t come easy.

And isn’t it amazing how fast the game changes? Just 10 hours ago, Thomas B. Edsall – political editor of the Huffington Post – wrote:

“A panicked and cash-short Clinton campaign is seriously considering giving up on the Nevada caucuses and on the South Carolina primary in order to regroup and to save resources for the massive 19-state mega-primary on February 5.”

For the who in the what now? Team Clinton has tasted blood. Won’t be no more panickin’. And no giving ground.

DeAngelo blogs ‘The Wire’

My boy DeAngelo Starnes is blogging about my boy David Simon’s show, “The Wire,” at EbonyJet.com. Check out his breakdown of the season premiere, filtered through his own political binoculars.

Ballots running low in New Hampshire...

Andrea Mitchell on MSNBC just reported that New Hampshire’s secretary of state is rushing more ballots to certain precincts that’ve said they might run out.

Apparently, “on the Democratic side,” as Mitchell put it, voters are going bananas. Oh man, isn’t this thrilling to watch? I can’t wait until tonight.

Did somebody say ‘gender card’?

Okay, I might be getting a little too conspiracy-minded, but I gotta speak what I feel.

At a New Hampshire campaign event last night, Hillary Clinton was heckled by two men in the audience. They kept yelling, “Iron my shirt!”

While these guys were being bum-rushed by security, Sen. Clinton hit them with a well-timed, crowd-pleasing comeback: “Oh, the remnants of sexism, alive and well!”

Not only that, but blogger Citizen Jane – who was there – reports: “As [Clinton] moved on to Q&A, she said she’d be happy to answer any questions men might have about ironing their own shirts.”

After the event, Hillary chatted backstage with Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski of MSNBC. She joked to Mika, “I bet Joe hasn’t asked you to iron his shirt.”

Hmm.

I’m not the only blogger to wonder whether the whole thing was a set-up by Team Clinton. But see, that’s why spending too much time on the Internet is bad for the brain.

It turns out that “Iron my shirt, bitch” has been a prank-culture meme and anti-feminist joke for at least a couple of years. Like for instance:

So the hecklers were real. And Hillary Clinton’s reaction was spontaneous. You can watch the whole thing unfold in the video below.

Take note of what she says when she returns to script: “I am also running to break through the highest and hardest glass ceiling in the world.”

Glass ceiling, huh? I told y’all she been working that gender angle to death. Like that’s gonna inspire the masses the way Sen. Obama is doing. Nice try, Hillary.

Hillary plays the gender card

There’s a lot being said on cable news today about Hillary Clinton’s teary-eyed moment on the campaign trail.

MSNBC’s David Shuster called it a “raw, emotionally naked moment.” Various talking heads say it will help to humanize her. They say voters will like it.

Hmmm...

Far from being an “emotionally naked” moment, that struck me as totally calculated. And it ties in to Hillary’s new strategy of calling attention to her gender.

I expect to hear Sen. Clinton say the words “passion,” “passionate” and “personal” a whole lot more in coming weeks. Until she discovers it’s a dumb-ass strategy for slowing down the Obama freight train.

Study the moment and decide for yourself:

What’s the deal about Marvin Sease?

Today I was driving through North Carolina and Virginia. And the pickings were slim on AM radio. Or so I thought.

I’ve got nothing against Jesus. But evidently, on AM radio in the South, they talk about Jesus a lot. Blacks and whites. Mexicans too.

Then I came upon WARR in Warren County, N.C., where disc jockey Sherman Johnson was playing some nice soul music – oldies by Candi Staton, Sam & Dave and Sam Cooke, plus new stuff by people I’d never heard of.

What tripped me out was: Deejay spun two songs, almost back-to-back, where Marvin Sease was mentioned in the lyrics. In the lyrics!

I halfway know who Marvin Sease is. I might even have a promo copy of one of his late-’80s CDs somewhere in a box. But why would two other singers – young cats – name-check him? Is Marvin Sease the new King of Soul or something? Is this a Southern thing?

Evidently.

I’m streaming those two tracks I heard, because they’re good songs. And because I didn’t know that young guys were making soul music (not neo-soul but SOUL) and that it’s being played on the radio.

The first song is “I’m Goin’ Back Home” by O.B. Buchana. He’s from Mississippi. I was instantly pulled into the story O.B. tells in this song.

To hear “I’m Goin’ Back Home” on my Vox blog, click here.

It’s from Buchana’s 2007 CD “Goin’ Back Home.” (Downloadable from eMusic, Amazon and iTunes Plus.)

The other song is “Friday” by Sir Charles Jones. He’s from Alabama. What I dig about this song and O.B. Buchana’s is how they’re rooted in real life... and how they’re about the importance of music in life.

To stream “Friday” on my Vox blog, click here.

This 2001 track is available on Jones’s new greatest-hits CD, “For Your Love, Best of Sir Charles Jones.” (Downloadable from eMusic, Amazon and iTunes Plus.)

By the way, in the photos above, O.B. is on the left, Sir Charles is on the right.

Now, can somebody please explain to me why Marvin Sease is so big of a deal?

More good-time carnival fun

Let me point y’all to a couple of fresh “blog carnivals” that include some of my previous work.

The Carnival of Satire links to my Ann Coulter audio remix from October. (Thanks, Mark A. Rayner.)

And the Carnival of Rock and Roll links to my “Britain’s biggest hits of 1970” post from last week. (Thanks, D.A.N.)

My fellow bloggers, I recommend that you draw attention to yourselves by contributing to a carnival or two.

Matter fact, check this event out... a “Progressive Dinner Blog Carnival” scheduled for January 30: five interconnected carnivals, hosted on five different blogs, on the same day. The topics are wide open. It’s a free-for-all... a potluck meal, if you will. I hope to supply a dish or two.

A free Henry Butler download

I’m sending this one out to my boy David Simon. He hired New Orleans pianist Henry Butler along with Corey Harris to record the main title music for “The Corner.”

That was my introduction to Mr. Butler’s extraordinarily versatile playing.

Here’s hoping that once the writers’ strike is settled, HBO will greenlight Simon’s next series idea: a drama based in the New Orleans music world.

To stream “The Game Band Strut” on my Vox blog, click here. It’s from Butler’s 2004 album “Homeland.”

If you’d like to download the track, click the song title below.

“The Game Band Strut” (MP3)
Album available at iTunes Music Store
Album available at eMusic
Album available at Amazon

MBP of the Week: Toronto Star

Just had to get this one up... a quintessential Misidentified Black Person. (Tip o’ the hat to Craig Silverman at Regret the Error.)

The Toronto Star published the following correction on December 27:

“A Dec. 23 concert listing about a Dec. 27 performance by R&B artist Omarion included an incorrect photo. The photo identified as Omarion was actually of hip-hop artist Bow Wow. The Star regrets the error.”

Yep. I’ll never get bored with this. (The pictures above I located myself. Do not know what the Toronto Star printed. Bow Wow is on the left.)

Personal time

I will be blogging light... extremely light... for the next week or so, while attending to some personal affairs.

In the meantime... wow, so much drama this week. The Iowa caucuses, Letterman and Leno back on the air tonight (How will this affect the strike?).

Be back soon.

Something twisted from Saiman Chow

Saiman Chow is a gifted animator based in New York City. (Search his name on YouTube and you’ll find out.)

The 5-minute film below was bankrolled by Adidas in 2006 to promote its “adicolor” shoe series. It’s a little violent, possibly disturbing, definitely brilliant.