Tuesday, March 20, 2018

The Madness of March

It hearkened so merrily
Give unto us the rites of spring
with thy Madness of March
dribble dribble shot
oh look at that dunk
oh look at that three
didn't he walk?
We scream at the TV 
as though they can hear us
and they better listen
we pick our brackets
our trusty brackets
brackets crafted with care and love
in two minutes
because I've never heard 
of some of these sacrificial lambs
so we shall laugh 
and cry and lo
for this means spring has sprung
oh thankies from my power bill
I'm sorry you misspoke
who beat Virginia?
they are a No. 1 seed 
surely you jest
No. 16 University of Maryland-Baltimore County?
Not even the main campus?
that's not a community college?
Madness indeed
who would have thought
who would have dreamed
so it would seem
Arizona has lost as well
oh hell. 
And down the rabbit hole we go
fate dealing brackets body blows
But my picks fear no such turn
for I plucked from the muddy tides of the future
UNC as my champion
and even they be nigh victorious
they'll make the elite eight
final four for they are great
and the pool shall be mine
lest someone pick by mascot
or uniform color

Monday morning
brackets torn asunder
picks lay strewn like cut grass
oh my poor picks! 
faulty, futile, foolhardy
kicked in the ding ding by fate
felled by Texas A&M
and Loyola
I know a guy named Xavier
why couldn't you be that cool Xavier?
Everybody knew Cincy was lunching
now they're worth punching
UNC felled as I slept
All the pool money gone
a brother wept
Sweet sixteen my ass
Who ever ranked these teams
was just playing
That's all I'm saying
Tis done
we've all seen better days,
Hey, can we get a do-over?
They wasn't going to class noways

Bracket just...done.

Friday, March 16, 2018

And so, they go...

"There should be no boundaries to human endeavor. We are all different. However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at. While there's life, there is hope".
~ Stephen Hawking (or at least the guy who played him in the movie)

In what will surely be one of my more convoluted posts, I'm going to honor two men who recently passed who couldn't have been more different: noted physicist Stephen Hawking and rap legend Craig Mack, who sadly passed around the same time. Two from a time when talent got you everywhere you wanted to get to.

Seriously though, Stephen Hawking did put some brand new flava in ya ear.

See what I did there?

I'm going to start with Professor Hawking, who a few years ago agreed to appear on the Big Bang Theory and insisted on delivering his own lines and not having them recreate his electronic voice. When you consider it takes sometimes an hour for him to compose a sentence, it was an enormous commitment on his part. And he made the most of it, much funnier than I expected. For a man who was supposed to die before I was born and who lived everyday trapped in his own mind, he had a cracking sense of humor. But then I guess he had enough time to make the inside of his mind rather nice, so maybe we were all the ones being left out.

As you may have guessed, I didn't know Stephen Hawking personally. But from a wheelchair in a frail body in need of constant care he changed our understanding of the universe we live in. He picked up where Einstein left off. Those who did know him called him engaging, funny and brilliant - from tales of nights in dive bars to extraordinary work in the lab. Because despite the more esoteric nature of his work, it is those understandings which contribute to the continued existence of the human race. And by that I mean things involving items not of this planet that in time will effect this planet. Good stuff. He funked the world...

Yes, that is an odd and awkward segue here...

Craig Mack is however, for us old heads. One of the original Bad Boy artists, the inimitable Craig Mack was a genius of rap in '94 of a kind of rap that artists have kept pretending to discover ever since. His freestyle free verse rap, unlike the story telling style of the contemporaries, consisted of songs that made more sense if you just let the lyrical word play shine through. The intelligence of the rhyme, the patter, smoothness was undeniable. A wicked talent for improvisation along with fat beats made for quite the combination in an age where every song had to have resonance.

But while his single “Flava in Ya Ear” became the label’s first hit, at least to me, he was unceremoniously buried by his label mate the Notorious B.I.G. whose banger of an debut album Ready to Die was released first. The scant few DAYS, not weeks between that musical avalanche  and Mack's Project: Funk da World album release effectively knocked Mack out out the hype he'd started. We remember B.I.G. as an icon, but we have mostly forgotten the artist who was the first to walk away from Puffy's music machine. Mack became a legend more what he could have become than for what he did.

Hawking and Mack have things common. You wonder what these men would have accomplished had they been able to run free in their prime. 

Monday, March 12, 2018

Going to the Movies...maybe.

Rambling Post #344
I like movies. As you may have read if you read anything about my past, like on this blog, yeesh, I've written a few scripts and have a few story ideas of my own. And one day, lord willing and the creek don't rise (and I can scrape together a few hundred bucks I don't owe anyone) I'm going to make something. Technically the few hundred bucks if for some good lunches and one of those director chairs, but a man has to have standards.

I caught the trailer for "Sorry to Bother You" this past weekend, and I'm interested. It's a film out this summer starring Lakeith Stanfield from the hot show Atlanta and Oscar nominee Get Out.

Yes this looks silly, but then that's on purpose.

I found the trailer both incredible and troubling. It was incredible in that it looks like a pastel infused explosion of just on the edge of reality semi-ideas, that's been dropped in a blender with generous dash of ridiculous, served through a sugar straw with a side of that sticky icky icky. It looks fresh, different, as if it touches on social issues and yet is still just plain funny. And troubling because once again, it looks like Hollywood has shown us the whole damned movie in two minutes. The trailer looks like it shows everything but the end! I think I know most of the story at this point - Down and out guy, love life and home life rocky. Gets job. Discovers secret to job. Advances up the ladder using the secret. More money, different problems. Guy has to make a decision about his life and...profit? (Sorry, underpants gnomes joke there.)

I can't be the only one this irks the crap out of.

The premise looks interesting. The hero Cassius, who lives in his uncle's garage is desperate to get something started. He lands a telemarketing job and learns very quickly from a co-worker that to be successful he needs to find his "white voice." If you're not a minority, you're probably not familiar with the concept of a particular voice for a particular situation, but this is a very real thing. the white voice he finds - which you hear in the trailer - is the whitest. And from there, things take off. Along the way to wherever this is supposed to go, the hero meets a broad and eclectic cast of characters on a trip through a only slightly weird version of the world of the average professional. Kinda.

Express yourself
Now, I've watched enough movies with insane premises - I used to watch a lot of late night TV and at one point USA had a show called Up All Night which made you wonder if you were hallucinating as a young teen. This film looks like something from someone who watched a lot of TV like that, but still has a social conciseness. And if they don't that's okay too.

Promotion Time.
Let's go to the movies. Well, maybe. Let's see how this all plays out. I am excited though.

Barkeep. I'll have whatever the man in bowler hat is drinking. Yes, I'm a bit scared, but you only live once.

Friday, March 9, 2018

Who hath wrought this winter?

I sit, cold. 
cause it's cold outside
which runs my heating bill up inside
keeping me in one room
I snggle into my blanket, 
a room cold save a space heater that hums
hums in a steady drone that soothes and hypnotizes
and provides a warmth
it said it would on the label
and I am warmed
under blanket, sheet, and other sheet
semi warm
enough to make me tarry in my morn
moving from warm bed to hot shower
seeking warm embrace
did I shave?
oh that water too cold
I'll grow a beard instead
heat on in my car
Just gets warm enough when I finally get to work. 
I long for the heat heat
like the summer sun 
which gleefully beats down upon my soul during a long walk
that saps the strength and makes my sheets soak with my body dew
which makes me sweat from breathing
ah, glorious
let the glorious man juice
my essence
pour from my armpits
did I use deodorant? 
I do so love me some heat
but now I sit, cold. 
I sit, cold
layered up
undershirt, shirt, sweater, jacket and scarf
that is quite jaunty
fashion forward
but still nippy with that bit of wind full of chill, 
my skin bits exposed
where my not quite summer body
its work in progress, work with me
where my not ever quite summer body
slips from it's coverage 
and the cold seeps in 
like stiff gravy
like molasses
like something cold that moves slow and sticks with you for a while
which keeps me in the house
against the blustery weather
not that I go outside a lot in the heat
but it's the heat damnit
I do so love me some heat
but now I sit, cold. 

Who hath wrought this winter off of backorder?

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Five minutes watching - Black Panther

I caught the Black Panther this past weekend, and if you didn't see it in IMAX or REAL 3D or whatever that I was I saw it in, go see it again. You know what, go see it again anyway. I mean it was like it literally leapt off the screen, like I was standing there. Also, pay for the good seats up front, the one I had was leather, with wide arm rests and the whole thing reclined. I could have slept on that thing. Oh, yeah, the movie. Duh...

John Romita Jr's art was the best
It's a good film. It's a much a better adaptation of the source material than I expected and not quite as many plot holes as their could have been. And while it's not the first big budget movie to star a black person (thank you to Will Smith for holding the line all those years) it is the first one to surround that black lead with a majority black cast. The lead was black, the supporting cast was black and I still bet that if it comes up for an award somehow one of the two white characters will somehow get nominated while the others are forgotten. But it made a whole bunch of money this weekend, so I'll be mad about that when it happens.

For those that don't know, the Black Panther was Marvel's first black superhero, created in the mid-60's and actually predates the activist group with the same name. In a huge step for 1960's civil rights,  the character T'Challa is depicted as not only equal to the Marvel Universe's most intelligent, including Mr. Fantastic Reed Richards and Iron Man Tony Stark, he's also many orders of magnitude more wealthy. This incarnation of him grants most of mental acumen to his sister, but it doesn't make him just a muscle guy. He's noble, thoughtful and a man built to lead a nation.

From here on mild SPOILERS...both for the movie part and in the quasi political part that come after.

The film is pretty well written despite some critics I've heard who thought it meandered a bit early on. A lot of the scenes at the beginning are setups or background for things that happen later, so they only make sense later. For instance, the opening sequence from 1992 which threw a lot of information at us really fast that we weren't paying attention to, but what's said there changes the whole movie later. It almost encourages multiple viewing, which pretty good for a film about a superhero.

I also really enjoyed the visual of Wakanda, with it's wide open savannas and rural feel, juxtaposed against the Afro-futuristic version of a metropolis. But the scenes at The Great Mound seemed gaudy and those where T'Challa wandered the streets felt unnecessarily cramped. For the budget I would have tried for something a bit more airy for the urban shots. For the mining, I just would have started over, something less candy-like. But mostly the city, the interiors, the technology all came together to feel both fantastic and still a little grounded. I really liked the mix of tradition and contemporary, though not always in the costuming.

A couple of the story turns were a little too quick for my tastes and as with most superhero films the timelines are hopelessly ridiculous. Seriously, Erick took a Cessna from South Korea and turned up in Wakanda the next day? With a body in tow? And then everybody just fell in line? But comic logic not withstanding, and although the ending seemed rushed, I mean like they really should put those pieces they had to edit out for time back in, it was still a damn good movie.       

Now, to the quasi-political part of my review (sigh)...

After watching the film on Sunday I decided to read a few spoilered up reviews. I tried to find a few by black people because after seeing the revelry I wanted to know what the thoughts were. First was the guy who equated T'Challa's victory with respectability politics. Then came the folks who thought Erick's Death before bondage line was poetic, a new age "I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees" sort of thing.

But it was the people echoing terms used by people who want them dead, various "Hotep" brothers, who  finished off my weekend by proclaiming Erick Killmonger was right. If I remember correctly the Killmonger's plan was to give Wakandan weapons to his personal definition of oppressed peoples around the world and start a series of revolutions. Sort of global civil war that would more than likely leave millions dead. Right..., no. That some people could reach this conclusion indicated to me some deep seated personal anger as well as a clear lack of scope outside their own purview, a through misunderstanding of what they'd just watched, and a failure to understand exactly how revolution works.

Let's go in reverse here so I can close with my main point. A revolution is NOT the purge. (I'm using one movie series to explain another movie series, yeesh) If you've never seen one of the Purge movies, the premise is one night a year all bets are off and you can do what you want to. The next morning, everyone shrugs off the night's "festivities," grabs an espresso and goes in to see if their boss survived. I hate to disappoint those who want immediate change via violence but that's not how it works in reality. In reality you get each little tranche of revolutionary with their own little version and frequently conflicting victory conditions blowing the bejeesus out each other for...sometimes years. 

Second, if you had payed attention in CAP AM: CIVIL WAR you'd realize that T'Challa's offer to save Erick at the end wasn't automatically just to later incarcerate him for his crimes. Erick with his clouded perception of the world and how it worked made the assumption that the Wakandans would treat him like, well, a black American. Thus he chose unwisely. T'Challa indicated in CIVIL WAR he was through with vengeance and stopped the man who killed his father from committing suicide. Why wouldn't he have been willing to take in a misguided cousin? This is a man who'd just cursed out his dead father for leaving that same cousin behind. The same man who took (or would take) in the Winter Soldier to rehabilitate him. Whose to say where Erick could have ended up. People who watched the film and saw revolution thwarted or respectability affirmed lack the vision and, the last item, scope. 

Side note - Why did T'Chaka leave his brother N'Jobu's body in Oakland? And why would leaving the son keep the up the lie that Wakanda was a third world state? And why didn't young Zuri clean house afterwards, opening all the panels and such? These are plot holes, hopefully answered in Blu-ray extra footage, and I'm on political now anyway. Sorry.

But the last part of my diatribe, the lack of mental scope is the most important part. Further, Erick was raised in America believed like most black Americans do that if we're both black it doesn't matter that I'm from Oakland and you're from DC, technically we're on the same side. But that's not how people from one of the 54 countries on the African continent think. There is a reason there are countries and tribes. I'm even going to completely discount N'Jobu being in the wrong from jump, as he instead of making his case to his brother for providing assistance instead actually sold out his entire country by assisting Klaue in stealing the vibranium to being with.

Further, Erick believed that Wakanda was being selfish by isolating itself instead of helping the oppressed people - particularly black Americans. But that's just it -  Wakandans have never been oppressed. It's part of their mythos - Never conquered, Never colonized. Where was this racial empathy supposed to have come from? Even worse, T'Challa had already indicated privately that he was starting to see Nakia's point of view about sharing a bit of their prosperity. And much like his father, Erick instead of making his case and subsequently finding this out, decided his way was the only way.

The people who think Erick was right need to step back, just like he couldn't.

In the end, T'Challa's actions will upset the world in ways Erick's "let's set all on fire" plan never could. It might even be dare I say it, a better plan. One without destruction. Without death. And sadly to some, without anger.   

In the end, good movie. Very good movie. Go see it. Again.

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

A Valentine Memory

When you're a little kid, everyone in your class gets a valentine because you give one to everyone in your class. It's like a rule. Or it was a rule. Like a participation trophy for...no, exactly a participation trophy now that I think about it. 

The first year our parent's didn't make us bulk valentine that it was third grade. I remember it was third grade very well, and at this point although I forget a number of other things about elementary school I sill remember that classroom. We sat in alphabetical order by last name. It had one of those old green chalkboards and the seats were the old style sturdy ones, with dark brown wood seats and attached desks, with a gray steel frame that looked like they should have been part in a tank. The big old style window where the panes flipped outward. I want to say the floor was white. 

In any case on that Valentine's day there was period, right after lunch, where we could all walk around and pass out our Valentines. At that age it was still the giggly we're not even sure what we're doing kind of kind of thing. Looking back I'm not sure I can call those feelings love in any real sense. A budding bundle of emotions waiting to be carved by capricious circumstance? We were wading into the ocean of relationships careful not to go past our knees, most of us with no idea we could drown.

And so I handed out my small tokens of young love - a funny card or five, that part is a bit of a blur with all the time passed. I know that I didn't hand out one to everyone in class, but it was more than five. Most of the other kids did the same, cards for good friends, a card for their crush, one or two proto brown-nosers giving one to the teacher. We fluttered back and forth for a few minutes and then it was over.

At this point in my life decades later I've gone out on a date or two. Less than I'd hoped really. When Sporty and I were in that groove we seemed to always hang out on Valentine's Day for some reason. Strange I know. Because I like the idea of romance over the years I've taken the time to hone my talents and knowledge of the subject. I overthink things. I've advised guys on what to say, what gifts not to buy and how far in advance to make those pesky dinner reservations. I've been asked by women to critique what they've planned. Let's be clear here though, I'm not a love guru or anything like that, but I have developed a eclectic but refined taste that people who know me tend to recognize.

We live right now in the age of the Savage, where relationship invitations are all declarations of  narcissistic expectation, where personal interaction has become minimal to point of our own personal development's detriment, and our lives appear to be continuous highlights paraded to the masses on social media to quench our sad thirst for attention. What hath we wrought? And I'm a long way from that young man who wore his heart on his sleeve because he didn't know any better. But I'm not a Savage. I'm a little too empathetic for that. Not that I haven't occasionally been an ass in a personal relationship, but I like to think those are few and far between. I'm an actual nice guy, but too many people use the term "nice guy" the wrong way, to the good and the bad.

As you may have guessed by now, the little kid me didn't get any valentines.

It's funny what we carry with us from our childhood.