August 31, 2006

Bomani is a moron

Lesson learned the hard way–and inadvertently, I must say–Coca-Cola and laptops don’t miss.  So now, I’m at my boy’s house trying to get some work done.

Now maybe I’m too attached to my computer, but here’s the question of the day–doesn’t using someone else’s computer feel like borrowing someone else’s socks?  Out the hamper.

August 30, 2006

BJ.com 2.0, VIBE.com and Elon

Welcome to the new Bomani Jones.com! For a while, I’ve been intending to change the look and add a couple of things to the site, but I was wholly incapable of handling that. To the rescue came my buddy Jacque DuBose, who I met when I was in school in California. I thank her for her assistance, and I hope you dig the new look. Coming soon will be podcasts on whatever comes to my mind, complete with beats from Sneaky Pete and a couple of other folks.

So uhhh, let me know if you know anything about podcasting. My desire to do that doesn’t mean I actually know anything about it.

(Oh, Drew asked if the picture on the splash page means I’m taking myself so seriously now. Well, only as seriously as anyone can be taken while wearing his aunt’s mink.)

If you dig the site and think you would like a site design from Jacque, please check her out at www.code718.com.

Business update, also…I’m now a news writer for VIBE.com. Little things like this. Thanks to Hashim Warren for putting me down. You can also look out for me in the November issue of VIBE, where I’ll have a short piece on basketball. Thanks to this lady I know oever there for that one.
Also, today’s a momentous occasion, for I teach my first classes at Elon today. That’s right–I’m officially Professor Jones today. Or something like that.

This is gonna be a bit of an adjustment. I tried to get the kids online to download their syllabus yesterday, but there were hassles with Blackboard. That meant they were asking me questions that I couldn’t answer. That’s no fun.

When you’re the TA, you simply pass stuff like that off. When you’re the T, you gotta do it yourself. And when you get it wrong, you hear about it. No fun, Jack.

But I’m really looking for it. The only thing I miss about graduate school was teaching and working with kids. Now, I get to do that, and I do it for more than the crazy low wage I got as my graduate stipend. A new era indeed.

Should be back a little later, but I’ve got a few things to get done in the meantime. Happy Wednesday.

August 28, 2006

Idlewild and more

Greetings, beautiful people. International Baba Day was the best on record, so thanks to all of those responsible. Had a lil potluck at the Estate on Friday and Saturday’s Int’l Baba Day celebration was too good to describe.

And now, back to real life. Dammit.

Anyway, went to see Idlewild on Sunday. It was pretty good. Nothing too spectacular, but really good.

(Well, every suit Big Boi sported was spectacular, but that’s neither here nor there. In a way, he’s still the cat I wanna be when I grow up.)

It didn’t really help with digestion of the soundtrack, though. It did make a few of the songs on Speakerboxx/The Love Below easier to understand, but that’s about it.

Long of the short–this was Under the Cherry Moon ‘06. But it was waaaaaaay better than that drivel.

(If you think that movie was good, save the drama for your mama. I love Prince more than I love most of my relatives, but that movie sucked.)

It’s Under the Cherry Moon because the music is primarily unfitting of the time period covered in the film. Remember when “Anotherloverholeinyohead” came on toward the end of Under the Cherry Moon? What drum machine where they using back then? You’ll get the same feeling when you hear any of Big Boi’s joints or “She Lives in My Lap.” The New York Times said that the setting was basically used for aesthetics, and that’s true. The other funny note from the Times was that Big Boi essentially invented rap in the ’30s. Great insight.

But I’d go check it out. The music is good, the cinematography is fantastic–shouts to CAU alum Bryan Barber–and I don’t think there’s an ugly woman anywhere to be found on screen. No complaints there.

As for the soundtrack, the people saying it’s booty are crazy. It’s not classic, but there’s a lot good there. Some of Andre’s joints are hot, particularly the incredible “Bad Note.” His problems are borne of same stuff as those on The Love Below–Dre’s just not as creative as he thinks. “Idlewild Blues” is just “Higher Ground” with some Prince-like synth lines. It’s no different than how “Dracula’s Wedding” is just a ripoff of something on There’s a Riot Goin’ On. I think he just needs to stop listening to old records.

Big Boi’s stuff points out two things–his Purple Ribbon roster is strong, and he’s got some really interesting things going on.

All those years, people thought Big Boi needed Dre, and that Dre was the “creative” one out of the two. If you can’t listen to Idlewild and see how fallacious that is, you’re just deaf. Or foolish.

Anyhoo, gotta get back to work. Have fun.

August 25, 2006

25 Idioms for a Beat Down

I’ve been planning to do this one for months now. Finally, it’ll happen. That’s right–25 ways to refer to beating someone up. Add your own in the comments.

I’ll whoop your ass. It’s classic, if nothing else. Everyone knows just what you’re talking about when you say this.

I’ll beat you like you stole something. Also an oldie but goodie. Have you ever gotten your hands on someone that stole from you? I have. It’s a real beatdown that follows that.

I’ll give you the work. “The work” is a versatile term, probably deserving of its own list. But in this instance, it means you handled somebody for real. For example, Fred gave Ness the work on “Making the Band.”

‘I’ll stomp a mudhole in you. I’ve always understood the hole part. But a mudhole? Never got that. But if I say that, you’ll get it. Dig?

I’ll bust yo head to the white meat. For some reason, we’re satisfied getting to the white meat. Ever notice that? Either way, this is indicative of a serious beating.

I’ll knock the black/white/brown/yellow off you. That’s right…I’ll make you raceless with these hands.

I’ll beat the brakes off you. Didn’t hear this one until I got to Atlanta. I’m so glad I did.

I’ll make you read these Nikes. Props to Willie D. from the Geto Boys. If you don’t get it, just think about it.

I’ll give you a $3 haircut. Courtesy of my brother. In other words, I’ll fuck your head up.

I’ll knock some sense in you. But I’ll do so by knocking sense out of you. What a concept!

I’ll shake the sense out ya. Guess the decision of which of these last two to use depends on how much sense the victim is starting with.

I’ll light yo ass up. Another oldie but goodie. Not used nearly enough. Very versatile.

I’ll beat you like a rented mule. Which is way worse than being treated like a rental car.

I will knock the dog shit out of you. Why dog? Who knows? But most interesting is how we can knock things out of you and into you while meaning the same thing.

I’ll beat you til you say Uncle. Never understood this one, to be honest.

I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich. Another oldie but goodie.

I’ll break my foot off in yo ass. Shouts to John Amos.

I’ll mop up the floor with you. Shouts to Trick Daddy Dollars.

I’ll cave your chest in. With the corollary…

I’ll punch you so hard in the chest your shoulders’ll touch..

I’ll smack the taste out ya mouth. That’s a serious smackin’.

I’ll beat you like I’m your daddy. This is probably the most demeaning thing you can say to someone.

I’ll leave you touched. This works better when the beatdown is outsourced, but it still works.

I’ll run up the score on you. As I ran low on idioms, I decided to make one up.

I’ll whoop yo ass. Worth stating twice.

International Baba Day is tomorrow. Party tonight at the estate if you’re in Durham. Let the folk know if you wanna come enjoy some of this good potluck around 7:30. Afterparty starts around 11:30 and leads into midnight madness.

August 24, 2006

When The Levees Broke, Pt. II

So I ordered HBO the other day to watch “When The Levees Broke.” After I TiVo a few episodes of “The Wire” and a couple of comedy specials, I’m gonna cut that shit right back off. I figure if I’m willing to pay a dub to treat someone to a movie, it’s worth 11 bucks to treat this like Netflix. Wouldn’t you agree?

Anyway, Spike did a bang-up job with this one. The greatest compliment I can give Spike’s work right now is that he’s finally gotten a handle on how to explore his passions on film. He’s fairer than he’s ever been, but he’s still able to get his points across. It’s like he argues now with passionate logic instead of just unfocused passion. To him, I tip my hat. So does that woman that one time called him a nigger on the set of Jungle Fever.

But watching that left me with the Katrina conundrum I just can’t get past–what to do about rebuilding.

I admit I haven’t kept close watch lately of rebuilding plans. Last time I checked, it looked like a significant proportion of the black population would not be able to move back. It was heartbreaking to hear, but I understood. Sorry, but I just can’t advocate moving people back to an unsafe area.

Now, after watching “When The Levees Broke,” I’m in a worse position than I started in. I’m more heartbroken but probably surer that rebuilding isn’t really the best idea.

Why heartbroken? Because New Orleans was the most vibrant city in the country. I don’t know if there’s another place on Earth that stands out from everything around it like New Orleans. Visiting the 504 is really like visiting another country, if not another world. The folks had those gorgeous accents. They tend to speak with some of the most interesting diction. They partied like no other and cooked like no other, incorporating African traditions with European culture to make a special, special place.

To lose black people is to lose that. A culture has been dispersed across the country. Will it be able to sustain itself? Maybe in places like Houston. But I’m pretty damn sure there will be no second lines in Salt Lake City.

But goodness gracious, those black folks had it bad in the city. While I say New Orleans was the most vibrant city in the country, it was also the dreariest. Centuries of crooked governments and racism left New Orleans as a scary place in many ways. Its projects had a national reputation for being the worst in America. The heroin problem was atrocious. Public schools were laughably bad (I promise, out of all the people I went to college with from New Orleans, maybe 2 went to public school).

The city needed rebuilding before the storm. Now? I just don’t know if it can be done properly. In fact, I’m pretty sure it can’t be.

That point kills me when I think about how much those folks love that city, man. What’d that lady say in the doc?

“I was born here and this is where-the-fuck-I’m-gon’-die.”

That wasn’t the first time I’ve heard that one. And to be honest, I understand it. If that singular place is what you know, I can see it being a mutha to head somewhere else out the blue. I’m not moving to Mexico, shit.

But we’ll see how this goes. If you haven’t seen the doc, call HBO and get a couple days from ‘em. It’s worth it.

August 22, 2006

Wow

If you didn’t know, something’s wrong with Osama bin Laden.

What do you think is Osama’s favorite Whitney Houston song? I’m guessing it’s not anything on “The Preacher’s Wife.”

August 22, 2006

When The Levees Broke and More

Well, it’s been a helluva last few days. More details as I’m able to share them, but it’s been something.

First, here’s the highlight of the trip. Fred, Darrin and I were just walking down the street and saw this. If you can’t name that vehicle, just Google “Outback Cruiser.”

But I’ll get into that stuff later.

Spike Lee’s documentary on Katrina, “When the Levees Broke” aired last night. I wasn’t able to view it since I don’t have HBO, but I’m told it was really good. Jarrett’s got a good post on it.

If you’ve been reading this site for the last year, you know how Katrina hit me–like a ton of bricks. Alan Grant sent me an e-mail last year where he told me how exhausted he was from Katrina, and he lives in California. I was glad he sent that to me because I thought there was something wrong with me because of how burned out the storm had me. As a Louisianan once removed and a black man, the storm and its aftermath shook me to my core. It was the ultimate rebuke to those that somehow believed that racism was a fading phenomenon. Right there, we saw it live and in living color.

We saw institutional racism. We saw portraits of poverty that many think are reserved for the Third World. We even saw the role skin shade plays in economic outcomes.

As a result, we saw people reduced to behaving in primal fashions. We saw suffering children. We saw what must have been the most hellish American scene of the 21st century, The Superdome. And, unfortunately, we didn’t see nearly enough of the government.

Now, I’ve got to figure out if I’m prepared to see it all again. I’ll never forget the day a wardie friend of mine called me, speaking incoherently until he burst out crying. This was from a man that couldn’t even find it within him to admit when he was drunk. But he was in an airport crying uncontrollably while I sat on the line knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do or say to make him feel better.

One year later, I fear Katrina’s been largely forgotten. Last September, I was in Houston covering a charity basketball game that was organized to raise dough for storm victims. I was overcome by the outpouring of support I saw, heard on the radio, all of that. My city, the one I have a love/hate relationship with, made me proud.

A month later, that shit was over. A year later, Houstonians been ready for the wardies to go home. Been ready.

I know this post doesn’t make any sense. That’s largely because all the stuff surrounding Katrina didn’t make much sense. And it’s largely because I sincerely hate thinking about all of that. I don’t even want to go back into that time, when cats were getting killed over ice and places in line at the gas station. It was just so friggin’ dreadful.

But you better believe I’ll see this documentary, and I hope everyone else does. This cannot be forgotten. It should be treated with the same attention that 9/11 receives. Even without the element of attack, this was every bit as tragic and hit me a lot harder (I know no one that was hurt in 9/11 but know plenty of people who had to deal with hat storm). It was the Southern 9/11. The black 9/11.

It was fucked up, to be frank.

Later this week, I’ll do more on this. I’ve got work to do right now, and I can’t write anything else without being too messed up in the head to handle the rest of my work.

Bless those lost in the storm and bless those that miss ‘em. And let’s make damn sure this don’t happen again.

August 21, 2006

Radio in Raleigh Monday Morning

Yo, gonna be on 96 Rock in Raleigh at 8:45am. Tune in if you like.

August 17, 2006

NABJ–Day 2

Something really interesting happened last night. I was at the opening reception at the Speedway–yeah, that Speedway–talking to Fred and another dude. Outta nowhere, a woman comes from across the room.

“I read your blog!”

I figure she’s got me mixed up with someone else. So I asked my name, which she got right. Of course, she did so while looking at my nametag, but that was still pretty cool to me. And this is no ordinary woman. She once dated one of my favorite rappers.

But yanno, I really ain’t got that much to relay. Got caught in some administrative stuff, and that stopped me from hitting too many events. Fred was on something similar. Oh well.

But we did get to see Michael Wilbon speak. I got to rap with him a little bit as he was on his way out. I seriously wouldn’t mind being like him when I grow up.

Why? Is it making big money? Is it being a really strong writer?

Nope. It’s being able to stand in front of a room full of people and say the word “shit” about six times in two minutes without a single person batting an eye. I can’t tell you how many e-mails I’ve gotten from parents and preachers about me cussing on here.

Bet they wouldn’t do that to Wilbon. Nope.

Highlight of the day–dinner with my cousin. Hadn’t seen him in about eight years, so it was a great time. It’s a trip seeing someone you haven’t seen since your childhood and being frighteningly like him.

How’d that work out? I’m very similar to my daddy. He’s every similar to his. And the daddies are quite similar to each other. I know there’s nothing particularly profound about that, but it’s still really interesting.

Going to Chi in the morning. I’ll have Fred tell me relevant stories.

(Happy Birthday…)

August 16, 2006

Oh, New Piece

Somehow I forgot to link the piece that ran yesterday.

Business…here’s one on the deal Justin Gatlin’s being offered by the dope police.

And maybe I’m the only person that finds this entertaining, but I saw a man in a pair of orange shorts–creased orange shorts at that–and a picture of a $2 bill trying to spit some game at a couple of convention goers.

“She told me she had eight boyfriends. I asked her what I had to do to be #10.”

And I hoofed my ass away from him on the good foot. He just looked like twubble.