It appears that most – if not all – of my previously archived work from my three-year run as a weekly columnist and features writer on the Inside Pulse pop culture website has fallen off the grid. That's as good an excuse as any to hunt through my hard drive for retro-blog fodder.
"Black Actress Survivor" was one of the more well-received pieces that appeared in my old Bootleg column. It was a collaborative effort with m'man Joe Reid from a time when concepts were discussed over AOL Instant Messenger and there were enough working black actresses in Hollywood to fill six pages of satire.
So, for those of you who've always wanted dozens of real-life African-American actresses cast on your favorite contrived island reality show…your wait is over. Or as I originally introduced this piece that first ran on September 2, 2005:
Join me on this 10-week midseason replacement run as an assortment of anonymous African-American women attempt to…out-black, out-sass and out-exaggerated finger snap one another, all on:Black Actress Survivor!
Week 1: After paddling to the shores of their deserted island, Sanaa Lathan and Kerry Washington get to the business of starting a fire, while Kim Fields and Tatyana Ali squabble over water-gathering duties. After a grueling immunity challenge, Marla Gibbs becomes the token old lady voted off first.
Week 2: This week opens with a shocking and surprising development as Jackeé and Kim Coles wash ashore like a pair of beached beluga whales. Cold, heavy and hungry (natch), the pair sandwich themselves into each tribe. Mere minutes before the eventual elimination of Nia Long, there's tomfoolery afoot! The final two votes against Nia come from former Cosby Kids, Keisha Knight-Pulliam and Tempestt Bledsoe. The unemployed pair had been presumed dead and eaten…by Natalie Desselle -- who starred opposite Halle Berry in B.A.P.S.
Week 3: Strategy is the name of the game in week three, as alliances start to build. Regina Hall is approached by Regina King for a partnership based on their shared . . . loathing of Tisha Campbell. Tisha, meanwhile, seeks refuge in a proposed Boomerang alliance with Halle Berry and Eartha Kitt. That plan falls through when Eartha tries for one purring voiceover too many and accidentally chokes to death.
After flying under the radar for the first two weeks, Jennifer Beals is voted out for "trying to pass." At tribal council, a shifty-eyed Jasmine Guy and Rae Dawn Chong realize they're gonna need a new game plan.
Week 4:The ParkersCountess Vaughn and Mo'Nique emerge from the island's twin tar pits of UPN Cancellation-cum-BET Syndication. However, the two were no match for resident island muscle, Marsha Warfield, who knocks them back into the abyss of Black Entertainment Television and an eternity as the lead-in for Eve.
Meanwhile, Lela Rochon and Theresa Randle return from their most recent vestiges of relevancy (1997's Gang Related and Spawn, respectively) and immediately start beef with Angela Bassett. Their good-natured potshots ("Why come you ain't green, She-Hulk?") precede more personal attacks, until Bassett finally snaps.
Week 5: By the time the fifth week rolls around, the ladies are getting on each others' nerves. Gabrielle Union just will not stop with the "this one time with Morris Chestnut" and "that other movie I did with Morris" stories. Jennifer Lewis finally has to tell her to shut the hell up. Elsewhere, a jonesing Macy Gray takes a knife to Vivica A. Fox's hair extensions in an ill-fated attempt to smoke them.
At tribal council, the Aged Alliance of Mary Alice, Cicely Tyson, and Irma P. Hall team up to give Robin Givens the knockout punch that Mike never gave her. As Givens gets her torch snuffed, an inebriated Macy Gray (she found a toad to lick) can be heard slurring "from 'Head of the Class' to out on your ass, bitch!"
Week 6: Food is getting scarce. For the last seven days, both tribes have been forced to subsist off the scraps and seaweed stuck between Paula Jai Parker's 63 teeth. Even worse, it appears that T'Keyah "Crystal" Keymah island-inspired "fishbone n' coconut" African-American hair and beauty care products have the women looking like the remains of Rain Pryor. A sullen and silent S. Epatha Merkerson is voted off the island, as she could not muster up a word in her own defense. The Law & Order star is only used to one or two lines per week in prime time. Sadly, she filled her quota with a quip on how she DOES look similar to a shaven Gregory Hines.
Week 7: Week seven sees the tribes merge and make camp at a smaller, more remote island. They make their move at night, and wait until Wanda Sykes falls asleep before they go, leaving her behind to relive her glory days of Pootie Tang all alone. Nona Gaye keeps trying to find an alliance to join, but sadly, unlike with the Matrix sequels, Aaliyah's not around to die so a spot can open up for her.
Lisa Nicole Carson and Loretta Devine engage in an epic breasts-vs.-breasts showdown that's been in the making ever since their first altercation in the David E. Kelley staff lounge back in 1999.
And finally, after weeks and weeks of putting up with her constant challenge-time exhortations of "Come on! It's all in the face! Pow! Fierce! What!" Tyra Banks is finally sent packing to her other reality show.
Week 8: It's the start of sweeps month and, in a blatant grab for ratings, both women who played Mrs. Vivian Banks on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air are sharing quality on-screen island time. Admittedly, it doesn't make for the most riveting TV, as Janet Hubert-Whitten and Daphne Maxwell-Reid have patched up most of their long-existing differences, with only one unsettled issue left open for discussion: What was up with the casting of Karyn Parsons as the oldest Banks kid? Were producers just trying to capitalize on The Cosby Show's random mocha-colored child quota? And, in a surprising twist, Queen Latifah is voted off as the status of "one-time Academy Award nominee" couldn't outweigh her current standing of "one-time star of Beauty Shop and Taxi".
Week 9: Let the mad charge to the finale begin, with multiple tribal councils seeing casualties falling left and right. Erika Alexander, bereft of her Living Single alliance-mates, proves easy pickings. In a shocking development, Lynn Whitfield and Alfre Woodard both look at each other and can't believe they're stuck on the same island as these no-talent sitcom has-beens and up and row the canoe back to respectability. And a dearth of Hollywood roles for them.
Kimberly Elise keeps trying to get Oprah on the phone so she can call in a few favors that she built up on the set of Beloved (letting O have the last Boston Crème in the box has its benefits), but she and Thandie Newton keep tying up the lines, and they're both given the boot.
And at long last, Ruby Dee is voted off, as a jealous (and clueless) Holly Robinson Peete exclaims "Mother Sister?! That doesn't even make sense!"
Week 10: The final tribal council draws closer, and thus the biggest threats to win become the biggest targets.
Fearing the tremendous sway they'll have with the jury (the jury being filled with old gay men for some reason), Diahann Carroll and Lena Horne are dispatched in short order.
Jada Pinkett Smith, who had been flying under the radar (literally, she was too short to be picked up by detection equipment), gets noticed when Vanessa L. Williams trips over her. Having saved the best for last, Vanessa engineers Jada's ouster.
Meanwhile, former ER stars Michael Michele and Khandi Alexander team up to vote out Anna Deavere Smith, having grown wary of the woman's surprisingly prominent jowls and the damage they could cause after a month without proper nourishment.
And, finally, with the surprise elimination of Elise Neal and a landslide jury vote over Sheryl Lee Ralph (during which the jury fiercely debated exactly how Sheryl came to be famous anyway), the winner of Black Actress Survivor is finally crowned . . .
Comedian Larry Miller has a bit where he explains the difference between the way a man leers at a woman and how a woman ogles a man:
"It's the difference between shooting a gun and throwing a bullet."
Mrs. Bootleg, however, can be quite lecherous when she wants. Hers is a tempered lust that – to the best of my knowledge – only manifests itself with celebrities she can't have.
In recent years, she's directed her fantasy affection towards…
Torii Hunter -- Much like the residents of Orange County, my wife had never heard of Hunter until he signed with the Los Angeles Angels as a free agent a few years ago. Hey, I'll admit it: he's one of baseball's most photogenic faces. Mrs. Bootleg will knock her own son out of the way if he's blocking the TV during one of Hunter's at-bats or interrupting Professor Hunter's latest sociological dissertation.
The Rock -- This one's pretty easy to understand as Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson and I have more in common than you might think. We're both of mixed race ancestry that blessed us with confectionery complexions (him, peanut butter…me, caramel). And, we both became infinitely more popular when we cut our outdated 'dos down by a few feet. Here's his and here's mine:
Isaiah Mustafa -- Otherwise known as "The Old Spice Guy", Mrs. Bootleg gets positively ooey and gooey whenever one of his new spots premieres. She breathlessly called me at work to relay news of his newly-signed talent deal with NBC. (As African-Americans, we're obligated to call one another when Jackie Robinson gets called up to the Brooklyn Dodgers or when some guy from commercials might have a pilot written around him that might be picked up as a mid-season replacement, someday.) His Old Spice commercials are undeniably catchy and clever, though.
Terry Crews' Old Spice commercials are neither catchy nor clever. Yeah, he's the other black guy is some recent Old Spice ads. This one's just really f***ing loud.
His "Stuart Scott" shouting, gross lumpy muscles and talking abdominals only succeed in blocking any of the product's brand recognition amongst the audience. But, it's still better than this one that sounds an awful lot like "BLACK! BLACK! BLACK! BLACK!" after the first few seconds:
In this final spot, I can only assume Old Spice is overtly marketing to geeks who think Old Spice 16-Hour Body Wash can turn our planet into…Tatooine?
Crews captured a stern, but earnest "John Amos" vibe in his role as family patriarch on the UPN/CW sitcom Everybody Hates Chris.
His new juiced-up "Jimmie Walker" act should've been left in the '70s.
Did you see the video that Nas did with Nick Cannon? The shuck and jive one? It was pretty over the top and I thought the song was actually a little too catchy (though that was probably part of the point).
I agree with both your points, Sam. Particularly, the inherent catchiness of this intended-to-offend ditty. What can I say -- I'm a sucker for the Old Negro pronunciation of the letter "R". I'm just not sure that the intended message will get through to the audience.
The video feels like an ineffective outtake from Chappelle's Show -- satirical, but simplistic. And, without any of the barbed-wire substance that makes great satire stay with you. Am I supposed to be shocked by the blackface? Sorry, Nas, but Public Enemy's use of it in the Burn Hollywood Burn video was infinitely more effective.
In 1991, Public Enemy was a much more credible messenger of Black pride than Nas has ever been. Nas has been screaming "hip hop is dead" since his 2006 album of the same name. But, let's not forget that in the face of scathing public criticism from the same bojangin', money-makin' acts he was criticizing, Nas softened his stance to avoid alienating his dwindling fanbase.
I'm curious what your thoughts are on The Boondocks (if you've ever seen it). I'm Canadian so a lot of the reaction from African-Americans doesn't always permeate past the border but the show is definitely one that could court controversy yet I never hear of any. In fact, if anything, the cartoon has accumulated cult-status. What are your thoughts?
I watched every episode of the show during its first-run on Adult Swim. Answering your second question first, the primary reason the show avoided mainstream controversy – for the most part – is because its creator (Aaron McGruder) is fairly well-regarded within the African-American community. And, it doesn't hurt that McGruder is, in fact, African-American.
"The Boondocks" also benefited from good timing. Barely five years after it went off the air, people have already forgotten how incredible Comedy Central's "Chappelle's Show" was. "The Boondocks" was cleverly marketed as a similar African-American satire – ultimately falling woefully short of the standard – at a time when the entertainment industry was falling over themselves in attempts to recreate Dave Chappelle.
Outside of a minor dust-up with Rev. Al Sharpton over "The Boondocks" episode that resurrected Dr. Martin Luther King, the show kind of came and went without much buzz – positive or negative.
As a whole, I thought the show was an enormous missed opportunity.
The premiere episode was brilliant. Just an unholy assault on sacred cows both black and white. But, it was followed by the infamous R. Kelly episode – a piñata I'd beaten to death in the first year (2003) of my old weekly internet column. And, I was already one of the last to arrive at that party. The "missed opportunity" can be summed up in three shows from the first season. The Gangstalicious episode was an overt parody of 50 Cent, but the writers went way, WAY out of their way to distance themselves from offending Fiddy or his audience. Unfortunately, the ending's homophobic overtones would become more prevalent in the second season. The MLK and Oprah episodes could've also been written with significantly more substance, but the former turned into a weird preachy sermon and the latter focused on every character except Oprah.
During the second season, the introspective Huey character was pushed into the background and written more as a glorified narrator. Meanwhile, his brother Riley – tolerable in small doses as a supporting character, mostly unwatchable as the show's focus – was written into the primary story more often.
The show's supposedly planning for a third season to air sometime in 2010 and I'll probably watch. Hopefully, in its two years off the air, McGruder can fix what's wrong and do more than pay lip service to pushing the envelope.
We haven't gotten all racial 'round these parts in awhile.
About a week ago, the San Diego Padres fired their General Manager Kevin Towers. For you non-baseball fans who still remember 1996, the GM is the guy who would sit down with, say, "Jerry Maguire" on behalf of a pro sports team so that they could negotiate a player's contract. There's a "wheeler n' dealer" mythology associated with a GM's job that really isn't relevant anymore.
Also, not relevant is the underlying tone in the opening paragraph of this eulogy written by The San Diego Union-Tribune's Tim Sullivan:
Kevin Towers walked into a Waffle House in Texas late one night and soon surmised that he was the only Caucasian in the restaurant.
He would admit later to some awkwardness, but feeling out of place is a temporary condition where KT is concerned. Whatever you might think of his baseball decisions, no one in the game can work a room more charismatically.
Standing there in the restaurant, Towers swiftly weighed his alternatives. Too hungry to leave, too resourceful to be intimidated and much too proud to beg, he walked over to the juke box, dumped some change into the slot and began ordering from an all-Motown menu.
Soon, the restaurant was filled with music and with mirth. Towers attacked another defenseless plate that had been “scattered, smothered and covered,” left an oversized tip and caused his grateful waitress to inquire how soon he might be back.
Where to begin?!
Well, let's start at the top. Towers "surmised" that he was the only white guy in the restaurant. Was his "white guy sense" tingling? Or was it the same way Batman would surmise the Penguin was involved with the theft of a billion-dollar bejeweled statue of a blue jay simply because it was a bird-related crime? (That's right, TWO tired comic book references!)
Towers admitted to some awkwardness? I love this! He's walking into a Waffle House, not a Bloods n' Crips alumni picnic. I've been the "only Black guy" in the room for as far back as I can remember. I was bused out to a "better" school way back in 2nd grade. All the way through to high school, there was no missing my peanut butter-colored mug in any class picture. This continued through college and into a professional career all while living in a city that'll never be confused with Atlanta or Washington DC.
Hell, Mrs. Bootleg and I were the only Black people in our own wedding party! For those scoring at home, there were white folk, a guy from Thailand, one Filipino, a woman from Mexico and one from Puerto Rico. Oh, and spanakopita was one of our appetizers.
Here's my favorite part of the excerpt:
Too hungry to leave, too resourceful to be intimidated and much too proud to beg…
Doesn't this sound just a tad dramatic? It's the type of line I'd have expected to see written about Martin Luther King entering any Birmingham diner in 1959. A well-to-do white guy didn't turn around and walk out of that Waffle House? Free at last. (Also, what would he be begging for?)
Thankfully, Towers turned on the jukebox and the eatery was "…filled with music and mirth…". The morale of our story, as always: Jigaboos love them some soul music.
One of the things I like to read about is your take on baseball and being a big Toronto Blue Jays fan from the Toronto area, I'm curious as to your take on this idea I've been thinking about. This weekend, the Jays are having a reunion of their '92 and '93 World Series teams and I was struck by how much cultural/ethnic diversity there was on those teams as opposed to now (or in baseball, in general).
What's your take on why African-Americans have steered away from baseball? And there even seems to be less players from Latin and Caribbean countries as well. I mean, yeah, I'm sure you could list some socio-economic factors (which other writers have done) but I'm interested in your opinion.
I've always thought the socio-economic explanation was lazily convenient for the media. Full disclosure: my five-year-old son's t-ball fees for the fall season are $130, but the abject poverty in Latin American locales such as the Dominican Republic puts American suffering to shame and they're still cranking out Major League talent at a greater rate than Black communities in the U.S.
In my mind, there are three reasons why baseball has lost Black folk.
(1) Jackie-to-Griffey - Everyone knows about Jackie Robinson's relevance to the game, but his impact on a generation of African-Americans cannot be understated. Robinson broke the color barrier at a time when baseball was truly America's national pastime. African-Americans who knew nothing about the game – and, in 1947, there weren't many of them – knew about Jackie Robinson.
Consequently, I'm reasonably certain that every Black male born during Robinson's 10-year run with the Dodgers (and the resultant influx of African-Americans into the sport) were steered towards baseball. My unscientific assessment would explain the Black demographic peak in the game during the 1970s and 1980s.
However, those young adults of the '70s and '80s were now having kids – in the '80s and '90s – who were being force fed the incessant imagery of African-American athletes by a media/advertising hype machine that the NBA and NFL were smart enough to be in front of first.
Major League Baseball's inability, for example, to market the early '90s version of Ken Griffey Jr. is one of the most egregiously inept promotional failures in business history. Since lessened by the 1994 strike, steroids and Junior's own star-crossed career, there simply hasn't been a player more universally loved whose appeal stretched across to any ethnicity like The Kid. Baseball, however, was content to let Nintendo and Nike to their dirty work.
(2) What Baseball Doesn't Have - It's been my experience that African-American sports fans – including myself – gravitate towards larger-than-life personalities. Baseball, on the other hand, insists on checking personalities at the door. This wasn't always the case as talents like Reggie Jackson – and even non-talents like Ken Harrelson – roamed America's ballparks with impunity.
Yet, in 1994, the entire Atlanta Braves roster mutinied against OF Deion Sanders (.290/.334/.475 from 1992-93 in 575 ABs) who dared bring 5% of his NFL flamboyance into an MLB locker room. In 2006, Mets OF Lastings Milledge high-fived fans after an extra-inning home run and, in the media aftermath, you'd have thought he shot someone. Earlier this summer, Rays OF Carl Crawford lamented all of baseball's unwritten rules even as he chose the sport over a football scholarship to Nebraska.
I'm not suggesting that baseball become pro basketball, but when Eric Byrnes' superfluous hustle and Nick Swisher's kamikaze redneck schtick pass for personality across rosters eager to emulate Kevin McReynolds' mood…well, yeah.
(3) Love - I know it sounds corny, but baseball is the one sport that still relies on the whole "passed down from generations" pap. How powerful is that pap? Hey, people actually believe Field of Dreams is a good movie, don't they?
Depending on which study-of-the-week you want to believe, anywhere from 40% to 70% of African-American children are born to and/or are raised by single mothers. My son is five-years-old, yet he knows and loves the entire god-awful roster of the 2009 Oakland A's. He cried when Matt Holliday was traded. Hell, he cried when I told him I couldn't swing a bat with him or put on a glove because of my injured finger.
This is just a guess, but I don't think he developed this unhealthy obsession with baseball from his mom.
So, what's the solution? Sadly, I think the ship has sailed. The "problem" of declining African-Americans in baseball is a bit overdone by the media and the Jackie Robinson tributes every April have become a pandering farce, but Commissioner Bud Selig and baseball are at least trying to reach out Blacks.
I seem to be experiencing a small – but, very much appreciated – uptick in new readers lately. To that end, I received a handful of emails from people asking me what I thought about last week's California Supreme Court decision upholding Proposition 8.
Well, seeing as how I carry about as much credibility on the subject as Miss California – and, really, you can probably infer my feelings just from reading what I've already written – I'd prefer to point y'all to better writers than me.
There were three pieces that stuck out. The first is the legal assessment of the court's ruling. This is a dense, but surprisingly nuanced review that keeps the emotional arguments in the background. The second, from San Francisco Chronicle columnist Mark Morford, brings the emotion to the forefront. Finally, in the interest of equal time, is a post from – of all places – SI.com writer Jeff Pearlman's personal blog.
You will often hear or read Scottsdale [Arizona] referred to as "Snotsdale" or "Snobsdale", and Scottsdalians labeled snotty, snooty and/or stuck up. This isn't new--it's been this way for many, many years. -- About.com
When: March 12 – 15…we're leaving on Thursday, coming home Sunday. My friends can't believe we're flying to Phoenix, which is about 350 miles from San Diego. See, here's the thing: I don't DO road trips, kids. Once I started earning a bit of disposable income, there were two things I immediately gave up – (1) long car rides and (2) more than two friends in a single hotel room. If we can't get there in 90 minutes, it's American Airlines.
Where: Phoenix, AZ…although, our hotel is in Scottsdale. Thankfully, I married the original Negro Elitist – a woman who grew up poor, but put herself through college – achieving a bachelor's degree and an M.B.A. Soon, thereafter, she would turn her back on her roots and start looking down her nose to everybody. Besides, we'd rather stay someplace where we don't have to guess where the "good" side of town is:
I dislike the generalization that the west side of the metro Phoenix area is inferior to the east side. -- same article
Primary Purpose: Spring Training! On March 13, your Oakland A's will be playing the Indians at the Tribe's new facility in Goodyear. The following afternoon, the A's host the Giants in Phoenix. We'll be at both games! The relaxed atmosphere! Big numbers on the back of jerseys! Regular season prices on food, souvenirs and parking!
Secondary Purpose: Booze mule! I'll be bootlegging (woo!) a half-dozen 22 oz. bottles of Sawyer's Triple over the border for some thirsty friends in the desert. Since passengers can no longer carry-on bottles of liquid larger than three ounces, I'll be entrusting the safety of this unofficial six-pack with the calloused hands and sticky fingers of America's baggage handlers.
Tertiary Purpose: The unique local cuisine! Don't be fooled by my emaciated frame. When I'm not purging, I'm binging! This is always the best part of a trip for me…it's just that I have NO idea what to indulge first. I'm told 'Zona has several mom n' pop coffee-and-pastry shops – the kind we don't have in Cali-Starbucks. The state also has a few old-timey drive-in eateries that have yet to be homogenized and commercialized.
In THIS economy, I'm all about supporting the "little guy", y'know?
Caught President Obama's speech tonight. Now, I know why never watch these things. The "spontaneous" partisan applause that breaks out every 90 seconds. More standing and sitting and standing than a Catholic wedding. The post-speech autograph session?!
I'm sure most of tomorrow's water cooler conversation will revolve around Obama's awkward tiptoe through the weeds of nationalized banking and government-run health care, but for a few seconds, the President was speaking directly to me:
In the end, there is no program or policy that can substitute for a mother or father who will attend those parent-teacher conferences, or help with homework after dinner, or turn off the TV, put away the video games, and read to their child. I speak to you not just as a President, but as a father when I say that responsibility for our children's education must begin at home.
With the help of some grammatically inappropriate subterfuge, I'd like to come clean and say: I don't not like ESPN.com's Bill Simmons. I admit this while conceding there are things about him and his style that just…OK, OK, Simmons criticism has been done to death.
I come to praise Bill Simmons and – specifically – his often-excellent podcasts. I download his stuff to my iPod and spend the AM answering work-related emails while listening to him riff on sports and pop culture. Look, I'm not trying to sell anyone on the guy. You either like him and read him or claim to not like him (while still reading him). That's cool.
Last Monday, Simmons and his buddy Joe House spent more than an hour talking about the NBA's All Star Weekend. Since I haven't regularly followed the NBA in over 15 years, I mostly zoned in and out, counting down the minutes until my earbuds could play Crooked I or The Game again (sorry, Mathan).
Towards the end, Simmons segued on to the subject of San Diego and my adopted hometown's lack of an NBA team. According to Simmons, there are a handful of teams in the league that could be candidates to relocate in the next few years. However, Simmons shot down the notion that the Memphis Grizzlies or New Orleans Hornets could be dialing "619" any time soon.
Simmons offered up two reasons – from a "connected" NBA source – for San Diego's relative unattractiveness to the NBA. The first (and I'm paraphrasing here) is that the city's perfect climate and infinite year-round outdoor opportunities tamps down any desire San Diego's denizens might have to go indoors for a few hours. The second reason was tied to San Diego's absence of a "financial industry" to buy up club seating and luxury suites.
If I may rebut.
As to the first point…it's about 120 miles from San Diego to Los Angeles. I'm not a meteorologist, so you'll just have to take my word on this: the weather in LA is eerily similar to the weather in San Diego. According to weather.com, Monday's forecast for San Diego is 71 degrees and partly cloudy. Monday's forecast for Los Angeles is…71 degrees and partly cloudy. The Lakers (and, ironically, the Clippers) draw pretty damn well considering LA gets the same 338 days of mild sunshine as we do in San Diego.
I don't even know what to make of the second point. Sure, San Diego doesn't have the ubiquitous financial district of NBA economic powers like New York, Boston…and Oklahoma City. Bastions of fiscal stability, one and all. All we've got is Qualcomm – the largest private-sector technology employer in the county and secure enough to buy out the naming rights to Jack Murphy Stadium for 20 years (through 2017). San Diego is also home to the strongest biotech industry in the country, to say nothing of the enormously lucrative defense (woo!) and manufacturing industries here.
When the Padres conned San Diego into building Petco Park, the team sold out all 6,000 personal seat licenses to well-heeled businesses and individuals. An amazing accomplishment considering that PSLs are a sucker-bet investment for those who buy them – all of the future risk is on the buyer. In fact, there's no shortage of PSL resellers looking to get out from under these cash siphons.
That said, Simmons is actually right about the NBA and San Diego. It's just his reasoning that's wrong.
The NBA had a team in San Diego for ten seasons. The Rockets played here from 1968-1971 before leaving for Houston. They were followed by the Buffalo Braves, who moved to San Diego in 1978, changed their name to the Clippers then moved north in 1984. Those teams combined for a .372 winning percentage here with one winning season.
The only thing worse than the basketball was the home court where it was played.
The San Diego Sports Arena opened in November 1966 and I'm reasonably certain that's the last time it was cleaned. It's a filthy eyesore that – to put it kindly – is the JFK Airport of indoor entertainment locations. Unfortunately, the only other basketball venues in town are Cox Arena (on the campus of San Diego State) and the Jenny Craig Pavilion (University of San Diego). The former seats about 12,000 (~7,000 more than the latter) but neither possesses the infrastructure or practicality to host pro ball.
Second, and more importantly, San Diego would never support the perception of the NBA. Y'see, I've lived in this city since 1995. I met my wife here, we're raising our son here, I love it here. This is also one of the most conservative enclaves in the country and one that would never get behind the tatted-up urban streetball league that everyone thinks the NBA has become.
This city likes its African-American athletes to be humble, soft-spoken and non-threatening with an absence of bling, body art and bombast. This is why Tony Gwynn is "Mr. Padre" despite his couldn't-give-a-damn approach to conditioning. This is why LaDanian Tomlinson gets a lifetime pass for his playoff MIAs and infamous "classy" comment. San Diego sports fans would rather their teams lose with a squad of choir boys than win with ONE bad apple.
Obama the Great Orator fumbled the hell out of his swearing in recitation. [Yes, yes, it wasn't his fault.] How soon before the fanatical right-wing blogosphere posits that since Obama didn't exactly repeat the oath of office word for word, he should lose the presidency by DQ? Keep fighting the good fight, ya kooks.
Lots of on-location shots from around the country, including Times Square, Los Angeles and Chicago. There were also images from Harlem and Memphis. A few questions: (1) Didn't Harlem deservedly lose their unofficial title as the capital of Black America 20 years ago? (2) Or was it when Booker T "relocated" to Houston? (3) Memphis? Over Detroit? Over Atlanta? I trust Ebony Magazine is investigating this gross oversight.
Hard to believe that poet Elizabeth Alexander had to follow Obama's speech. The shots of the crowd dispersing at the mall during the poem didn't help the imagery of the moment, nor did the awkward pause between the end of Alexander's poem and the crowd's realization that it was time to applaud.
What was with all the "peaceful transfer of power" comments from the media? Has there ever been any other kind in American presidential history?
Aretha Franklin could roll out of bed and hit every note before brushing her teeth. Here's hoping, before she dies, she's invited back to sing at another inauguration. Or, at least, another Wrestlemania.
Junk Mail RETURNS! Junk…Mail. You remember "Junk Mail", right? It was the ironically unoriginal name for the reader feedback section of my old Friday Music News Bootleg column. Sigh. The Friday…Music…News…Bootleg. Remember?
Anyways, this 'bout made my month:
Aaron
I was killing time online last night and stumbled across your baseball broadcasters series from last summer. I really enjoyed your music stuff back in the day so I'm glad to see you're still writing! I'm looking forward to catching up on the last two years of "TBG". Not long ago I was trolling archives at 411 and came across this piece that you wrote in January 2005. Holy shit, is all I can say dude.
NICE! The piece he's referencing is from my January 7, 2005 Bootleg column and it's got everything: (1) a shot at Cicely Tyson, who was an odd long-running joke for my column's three-year run (2) a news item about Sean Combs that was literally two or three name changes ago (3) a crack about Beloved that was way dated when I wrote it four years ago (4) a Bill Cosby quip (see #3, also is it any wonder it took me eight hours to write those old columns…?)
(5) A bit of clairvoyance on my part regarding the electability of one Barack Obama.
Sometimes the News Just Wrote Itself…
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Cicely Tyson Must Be Rolling Over In Her Grave…
We're a little over a week away from Martin Luther King Day and just three weeks out from the beginning of Black History Month. With that in mind, I'm proud to announce that Sean "P. Diddy" Combs has been named BET.com's "Person of the Year" for 2004.
Puff Daddy…Person of the Year.
The website credits his efforts on the Citizen Change non-partisan youth voting program that was such a raging success last fall. His work with continuing to maintain his Justin's restaurants and Sean John clothing brand were also cited as deciding factors.
Who knew that soul food and $75 T-shirts had such sway with his supporters?
And who were the other finalists for the honor? Well, there was Oprah Winfrey, who was forced to buy back her Blackness at five cents on the dollar after Beloved. Bill Cosby, who spent the year Hayhursting [TBG Note: Don't ask.] over "the look of those teenagers". Rev. Al Sharpton, who doesn't need me to write a joke for him and Barack Obama.
Y'all remember Barack…? Democratic National Convention…real stirring speech…talk of a Presidential run down the line. Let's hope that Barack saw that Eddie Murphy movie The Distinguished Gentleman. That's the one where Murphy's "Jeff Johnson" snuck his way into office because he shared his name with a white politician who died and fooled the voters by running a campaign without once showing his face.
I know that a link to fivethirtyeight.com is located just to the right of what you're reading right now, but in this post-election political talk burnout that most of us are suffering from, it's worth yet another post.
They've got a fascinating take on Saxby Chambliss's win in the Georgia Senate runoff earlier this week, specifically on how it may serve as a template in 2010 for Republicans. I'm not sure I agree with every point (personally, I think the predictable fall-off of Black voters AND the voters' concern of a potential 60-seat Democratic Senate AND the Sarah Palin cameos throughout the state were all downplayed a little too much by the esteemed Mr. Silver), but it's still a great read.
Who says racial epithets can't be comedy? Surely, you came across this early morning article on Al-Qaida's second-in-command dropping the "House Negro" bomb on President-Elect Obama. I mean, I know I shouldn't be laughing, but come on. For me, this ranks right up there with "jigaboo" as one of the top two ineffective 19th century insults that the late Dave Chappelle could've turned into a helluva skit.
Question for the Day: Regarding the above, whose side is Sean Hannity on? Discuss.
Over at FiveThirtyEight.com, there's an insanely entertaining interview with someone called John Ziegler. He's a former talk show host who's working on an anti-Obama, anti-media documentary. Oddly enough, one of the only things I remember from the myriad of marketing classes I took in college is the fundamental requirements of market research (surveys, polling, population, etc.) That an idiot like me was able to shoot holes in this kook's premise is pretty damn telling.
Finally, I gotta say that I'm alternately encouraged and disappointed by the aftermath of Proposition 8's defeat here in California. On the one hand, the door isn't yet closed. On the other hand, it sure would've been nice for the "No on 8" campaign to be this mobilized three months ago.
I hit up the "No on 8" website several weeks back, in search of swag, propaganda and other like products. Everything was either sold out or on back order. So, in the daily face of "Yes on 8" bumper stickers, yard signs and t-shirts, I made a monetary donation to the cause and went on my merry way.
Earlier this week – 14 days after the election – I received an email notifying me of all the exciting new merchandise NOW available at the "No on 8" website. Of course, the cause will continue to have the support of me and my family but, seriously…pencils down, dudes.
Do you remember how John McCain and Sarah Palin spent so much time railing against those of us who went to college, live near an ocean and prefer our animal meat already dead and wrapped in supermarket cellophane? I spent much of the Presidential Campaign ignoring everything about the Presidential Campaign, but when this "elitist" label started kicking around, I spent more time than I'd care to share trying to wrap my mind around it.
Yeah, yeah…it's all political gamesmanship – I get that. It's just that I don't understand what's inherently wrong with being an elitist, particularly when this derisive appellation is being used as a means of telling people that they're better than me.
Well, I'll be damned if anyone from rural Ohio or bum-f*ck West Virginia is better than me. I live in America's Paradise (non-island division). I married a woman with an MBA. My baby-soft hands have never done a hard day's work in their life. I am an elitist and, yes, I'm better than the residents of the GOP's "real" America.
Anyways, over the past few months I stumbled across fivethirtyeight.com and became hooked during the waning weeks of the campaign process. While ostensibly a site for statistically-based polling analysis and state-by-state campaigning updates, the writers tackled all of the big stories with a greater fact-to-opinion ratio than MSNBC, CNN or Fox News. And, that's quite a raised bar, no?
In the past week, they've addressed some of the myths relating to the passage of California's controversial Proposition 8. Their insight on the African-American angle is pretty good stuff. Find time, if you can, to read their thoughts on the recent evolution of certain swing states to a more clearly defined blue/red status and the ongoing vote counts in Minnesota and Alaska.
Over in the Los Angeles Times – or should I say "Left Angeles Times" ahahahahhaha "NObama"! – Norah Vincent writes a compelling piece on NOT voting in this past election and what can only be described as "voter's remorse".
Finally, Newsweek has a ginormous seven-part piece on the entire Democratic and Republican campaigns from beginning to end. The whole thing is about two years long (in both time and text) but, it's absolutely terrific.
7:45 AM, Jalen's Preschool - One of the oddest aspects of living in ultra-conservative San Diego is that, politically, everyone seems to think alike. Consequently, I've lost count of the number of times that friends, co-workers and random San Diegans simply assume I share their viewpoints by virtue of my zip code. I hadn't even taken my son out of his car seat when another parent went off on Obama's win with the usual local lament of those damn, dirty liberals in Los Angeles and San Francisco cancelling out the virtuous voters of San Diego. Hey, I was born in Long Beach (LA County). HEY!
8:15 AM, 7-11 - After a half-dozen stops before work, I've come to the conclusion that there's not one newspaper left in this town. I'm setting the over/under for the eBay "Buy it Now" price of the November 5th New York Times at $99.99.
11:30 AM, Unnamed Defense Contractor - Little tense around the office today! The conversations about last night's election results all came to a screeching halt whenever I walked past my co-workers in the file room, the break room or on my way to the double-wide handicapped stall in the men's room. (F*ck, no newspaper there, either.) Really, co-workers? Really? Now, you're assuming I voted for Obama even though – as a rule – I never talk politics at work? Did none of you read the first paragraph of this post?
8:00 PM, Stately Bootleg Manor - Mrs. Bootleg's hairdresser called and invited us to…an Obama victory party on Saturday night. Come on. Black people. Come on. I mean, 72 hours notice? Whatever shall I wear?! Oh, who am I kidding…Sunday is my sixth wedding anniversary. The wife and I already scheduled a date night for the 8th. Still, the party's only going to be a couple of miles from us. AND, the potential for blog fodder is off the freakin' charts. Stay tuned.
…and a forgotten anecdote from Election Night:
Mrs. Bootleg: "Be sure to save all the receipts from our donations to Obama's campaign."
Me: "Uhh…I'm pretty sure that campaign donations aren't tax-deductable."
California – my home state – propelled Barack Obama over the finish line and into history, while simultaneously spitting in the face of our gay and lesbian populace who rejoiced just as loudly as me when Obama won the presidency.
Make no mistake: the politics of uninformed fear and outright lies is alive and well in this country. Credit where it's due, as the supporters of Proposition 8 controlled the narrative from the get-go, while the opponents didn't even begin their blitz until polls showed the measure gaining ground at the end of summer.
Proposition 8 was distorted from its homespun, bible-toting bigoted roots and thrown further down the sewer until it became good ol' "won't somebody PLEASE think of the children?!" claptrap:
In response, the opposition floated this spineless spot that inexplicably targeted the minority of undecided voters, instead of attempting to sway soft or moderate supporters:
By the time Proposition 8 opponents finally found an effective context – correctly framing the measure in a historic civil rights context to win over the veritable goldmine of minorities in this state – it was too late:
And, wouldn't you know, that the same Blacks and Hispanics who've been so marginalized by the extremist right are the ones who helped push Proposition 8 over the top. Democracy!
There is a silver lining, I suppose. The defeat of this measure has only served to further galvanize the gay and lesbian communities, along with their friends and families. Lawsuits have already been filed and based on my close physical proximity with the legal department at the Unnamed Defense Contractor, I'm guaranteeing victory* at the end of the day.
* - Not a guarantee.
Seriously though, however this matter is ultimately decided – win or lose – it's not the end, either way. Just as the 13th Amendment fell a wee bit short of solving Black America's issues, the issue of gay rights has generations of chapters still to be written. I, for one, would love to read the ending. I'll probably skip the acknowledgements section at the very very end, though.
My grandmother, Hazel Cameron, died on December 15, 2001.
She was a bombastic old battle axe who proudly wore her Democratic political affiliation on her sleeve. She was also a wife for 51 years and a white woman who raised two biracial daughters in the 1950s and 1960s. When she passed, it was the first time I'd seen or heard my grandfather cry.
Tonight makes two.
When Barack Obama was announced as the winner in Virginia – pushing him over 220 electoral votes – Mrs. Bootleg and I exchanged simultaneous, identical fist pumps. The West Coast polls were mere moments from closing and California (you, too, Oregon and Washington!) was guaranteed to put him over the top.
Considering I attended community college for awhile AND worked in the defense contracting industry before 9/11, I can honestly say that today was the least productive day of my life. All I could think about was Hazel and how this election would've shared her personal stage of great moments with the birth of her grandson, Jalen, which she missed by a little over two years.
So, of course, I cried, too.
I called my mom at 8:00 PM. She'd been politically apathetic for as long as I can remember, but she submitted her absentee ballot before mine. She was speechless. She shared my hope that Obama would win, but also my doubt that America would vote for him.
A few minutes later, I called my grandfather. 82-years-old. Born in 1920s Alabama. Before you knew it, we were sobbing harder than the cast of Good Times when the James Evans character got killed off. African-Americans were essentially sub-humans in this country 82 years ago and tonight I'm having a conversation with my grandfather that I thought we'd never have.
Still, I'm not naïve.
The political maneuvers during this presidential campaign were often despicable as some of the fringe lunatic factions from the right made desperate attempts to paint Obama as, basically, "the scary Black Muslim guy". Meanwhile, I was very disappointed in Obama's reluctance to talk about race – beyond his famous damage-control speech early in the spring.
Obama's election doesn't silence the ignorance of the extreme kooks out in places like rural Ohio, rural Missouri or all of West Virginia. It also shouldn't be played down so as not to offend the majority demographic of this country that's held the highest office in the land since America's birth.
In the last month, both sides have pulled every hypothetical boogeyman from under the bed and tried to scare America out of voting for the other guy. The reality is that these are the most uncertain times my country has faced during my adult life. No one – not McCain, not Obama – knows what challenges we'll face in the four years ahead.
So, I voted for the guy who I'd rather ride into tomorrow with.
Proposition 6 – Places additional penalties on gang-related and drug crime. Takes monies from California General Fund (previously earmarked for schools, health services, housing and the environment) to pay for new and existing criminal justice programs.
TBG Votes: No. Poorly written and ill-conceived, this is one of those "tough on crime" mandates that supporters hope won't be read past the first sentence or two.
Proposition 7 – Would require California utilities to procure half of their power from renewable resources by 2025. It will also require California utilities to increase their purchase of electricity generated from renewable resources by 2% annually to meet Renewable Portfolio Standard (RPS) requirements of 40% in 2020 and 50% in 2025.
TBG Votes: No. Most independent studies have shown that a short-to-moderate term increase in current annual household energy costs if this passes. Mrs. Bootleg only works part time, people.
Proposition 9 – Would alter laws governing victim's rights in California and amend the California Constitution to add new provisions regarding victims of crimes.
TBG Votes: No. Administratively redundant with many state laws already on the books.
Proposition 10 – Would provide rebates to Californians who purchase vehicles powered by fuel sources other than regular gasoline, as well as a rebate for those who buy fuel-saving vehicles. The state government would pay for the rebates, up to a total of $5 billion. Also provides for funding/grant research on alternative fuels.
TBG Votes: No. Huge conflict-of-interest here as the primary backer of this initiative (T. Boone Pickens' Clean Energy Fuels, Corp.) stands to make the most off it. I'm not down with funneling California dollars to help anyone from Oklahoma. They know why.
Proposition 11 – Changes the authority for establishing the district boundaries of the California State Assembly, California State Senate, and Board of Equalization from elected representatives to a 14-member commission.
TBG Votes: No. The committee will be formed of five Republicans, five Democrats and four from neither party. I wouldn't trust that make-up to pick an appetizer to share at Chili's, much less to slice and dice districts. BTW, Chili's Southwestern Egg Rolls = crazy underrated.
Proposition 12 – Authorizes issuance of $900 million in bonds to create a fund that assist veterans who are purchasing farms, homes and mobile home properties.
TBG Votes: No. Nearly one billion dollars to throw down the California housing sinkhole at a time when our state's economics look like sh*t? Replace "veterans" with any other needy group and it's rationalized away by everyone.
Those of us here in California have had to suffer through an especially annoying array of commercials this election season. And, like any good little liberal-socialist elite, I'm all about sharing.
First is a "No on Proposition 4" spot that would be terrifying if I had a daughter. But, since I don't, it's just really corny:
Here's a "Yes on Proposition 2" commercial that strikes a sympathy chord. Check out how it mixes in a (socially) inedible animal with the caged, decrepit conditions of animals we can eat. I hate dogs:
Next up is the scary gay marriage initiative! They'll teach our kids that boys can marry boys and girls can marry girls! These lessons will apparently occur during gay nap time, lesbian recess and wherever else space can be found within the intense K-through-6 curriculum:
Finally, Senator Dianne Feinstein speaks out against Proposition 8. I can't help but notice that she appears to be an amalgam of all four Golden Girls at this point:
