With less than three weeks until Election Day, two conclusions are taking hold. First, early estimates of low turnout suggest that voter apathy is alive and well. Secondly, the polarized state of American politics, especially as President Obama enters his last two years in office, is more shrill and viable than ever. As with any election, the well-financed men and women that are jockeying for position are a melange of dolts and schemers, liars and dreamers. Even the most idealistic candidate can be worn down by the meat grinder of our legislative branch.
If you're an Illinoisan, you have plenty to be exasperated about. In fact, for as long as I've been a registered voter I don't think our state has had a major party candidate for governor that was worth voting for. The license-for-bribes scandal that ended George Ryan's political career gave way to six ignoble years of Rod Blagojevich, which begat six years of incumbent Pat Quinn. Of this sorry bunch Quinn was probably the least embarrassing. Accusations of corruption have been unfounded --right-wing conspiracy theorists have tried to connect Blago to his reluctant second in command and vice versa, with limited success-- but Quinn's doddering, in-over-his-head performance as governor should offer limited hope for a second full term. The Republican's answer, multimillionaire Bruce Rauner, would have a commanding lead over Quinn if not for several character flaws: he's been perceived as alternately out-of-touch, bullying, and coasting. Rauner is a pro-choice, pragmatic Republican in a state where moderate "collar county" conservatives have more sway than any other right-wing faction. (I thank my lucky stars that the Tea Party has never found a foothold in Illinois, Joe Walsh notwithstanding.) Just being "the other guy" is not enough, so it seems.
Where the governor's race is saturated with schadenfreude, the Illinois U.S. Senate race almost plays like satire. The incumbent is the prominent (read: powerful) Democrat Dick Durbin, and his challenger is ice cream magnate and perennial candidate Jim Oberweis. It's essentially a battle between a candidate who's out of touch with voters versus a candidate who's out of touch with reality. Nevertheless, Durbin is the #2 Democrat in the higher chamber, and CPACs will keep pumping money into the Oberweis campaign to oust a Washington top dog, no matter how lousy or delusional a candidate like Oberweis might be.
The problems that face my home state will not be fixed overnight. The Land of Lincoln has made social progress in recent years (yay, marriage equality!) but seems stagnant in every other aspect. In a way, Illinois is a microcosm of what ails the United States as a whole: partisan bickering, extreme ideologies, shortsighted ideas. What happens in the last two years of Obama's administration likely won't change much; the GOP is expected to reinforce their control of Congress, and though they will gain seats in the U.S. Senate they won't seize the majority. Basically, another two years of gridlock.
In summation, I'm writing this year's election rundown slightly earlier than usual to implore anyone reading this to register to vote and express your voice on November 4th. A voter turnout of 3.5% percent means 96.5% of the population will lose their right to complain about the next two years. If you have a problem with what's going on this country, then put pen to hand and speak your mind.
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Sunday, October 26, 2014
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Royal Pains
Anyone who’s known me for a reasonable amount of time will attest that I am a lifelong and long-suffering Kansas City Royals fan. For the vast majority of the time I’ve been a fan, there really hasn’t been much to brag about. Growing up in the southwest Chicago suburbs, reactions from other baseball fans --about 50% White Sox, 45% Cubs, 5% “other”-- ranged from ridicule to confusion to pity. With the Royals becoming the Cinderella of the 2014 playoffs, earning them the temporary title of America’s team and sentimental favorites against the thriving San Francisco Giants, my noted fandom has experienced unheard-of levels of euphoria. And yet, I’ve never really explained at length why I root for the Royals.
My paternal grandmother’s family moved from Jefferson Parish, Louisiana to Kansas City in the mid-1910s. Even though my father’s family bounced between KC, St. Louis, and LaGrange, IL for much of the 1940s and 50s, my grandmother’s brother and two sisters hewed close to KC. When Grandma Sara died in July 1993 my family flew out to the Emerald City for her funeral, the first of several trips I would take between then and 2001. It was during this first trip that I would grow acquainted with the surviving members of Grandma Sara’s side of the family, especially her older sister Beatrice. “Aunt Bea” was ten years Sara’s senior; she was 12 years old when the family left the Deep South; my grandma, the baby of the family, was 25 months old. Because of that, Bea spoke with a lilting, Eudora Welty-type southern drawl while Sara spoke with a very slight Great Plains twang.
Growing up mostly with my mom’s side of the family --unabashedly blue collar, salt of the earth Chicago Polacks-- to meet these college-educated, somewhat WASPy, middlebrow social climbers was a little alien to me. My father’s sister had a bigger house than most of my mother’s relatives, but I never dwelled on it too much. I found it hard to relate to my mother’s side of the family; I’m more urban than agrarian and I’m not very outdoorsy; in a family of mechanics and custodians, I was more concerned with getting an education than picking up a trade. I wanted to strive more than live modestly within my means. I saw that in Aunt Bea, who was a socialite in her prime and was still graciously hosting whomever would visit her townhouse as she approached her 90th birthday. Incidentally, she was also a Kansas City Royals fan, with a swooning affection for their aging star George Brett.
Kansas City in 1993 was a lot different than KC now. When the Royals won their first championship in 1985, the city was at rock bottom; the farms were dying, and the economic strife in the heartland trickled up to the cities, where businesses were shuttered and unemployment was at record levels. With their NBA team moving to California and the Chiefs middling at best, the Royals’ come-from-behind defeat of the Cardinals in the World Series was just the morale booster the city needed. Eight years later, KC was faring slightly better but not out of the woods just yet; the urban renewal of the mid-to-late 1990s was in its early stages. The Royals hadn’t made the playoffs since then (obviously), but they were consistently first-division and at worst a .500 ballclub. The Royals were consistently good but seldom great, and with my interest in sports just beginning to bloom, this piqued my interest. My mom’s family were mostly Cubs fans, and their almost delusional devotion just didn’t make sense to me.
With our first World Series appearance in 29 years on the horizon, my pride is usurped by a desire to gloat. After decades of mismanagement, small-market budgeting, lousy scouting, squandered draft picks, and all-around irrelevance my beloved Royals are back in the promised land. Regardless of what happens in the 2014 World Series, I will remain just as proud of my favorite baseball team as I was when they consistently lost 100 games a year. Their improbable playoff run has been a thrill to watch, and I assure you that this displaced Royals fan will spend this year’s Fall Classic glued to a TV set.
My paternal grandmother’s family moved from Jefferson Parish, Louisiana to Kansas City in the mid-1910s. Even though my father’s family bounced between KC, St. Louis, and LaGrange, IL for much of the 1940s and 50s, my grandmother’s brother and two sisters hewed close to KC. When Grandma Sara died in July 1993 my family flew out to the Emerald City for her funeral, the first of several trips I would take between then and 2001. It was during this first trip that I would grow acquainted with the surviving members of Grandma Sara’s side of the family, especially her older sister Beatrice. “Aunt Bea” was ten years Sara’s senior; she was 12 years old when the family left the Deep South; my grandma, the baby of the family, was 25 months old. Because of that, Bea spoke with a lilting, Eudora Welty-type southern drawl while Sara spoke with a very slight Great Plains twang.
Growing up mostly with my mom’s side of the family --unabashedly blue collar, salt of the earth Chicago Polacks-- to meet these college-educated, somewhat WASPy, middlebrow social climbers was a little alien to me. My father’s sister had a bigger house than most of my mother’s relatives, but I never dwelled on it too much. I found it hard to relate to my mother’s side of the family; I’m more urban than agrarian and I’m not very outdoorsy; in a family of mechanics and custodians, I was more concerned with getting an education than picking up a trade. I wanted to strive more than live modestly within my means. I saw that in Aunt Bea, who was a socialite in her prime and was still graciously hosting whomever would visit her townhouse as she approached her 90th birthday. Incidentally, she was also a Kansas City Royals fan, with a swooning affection for their aging star George Brett.
Kansas City in 1993 was a lot different than KC now. When the Royals won their first championship in 1985, the city was at rock bottom; the farms were dying, and the economic strife in the heartland trickled up to the cities, where businesses were shuttered and unemployment was at record levels. With their NBA team moving to California and the Chiefs middling at best, the Royals’ come-from-behind defeat of the Cardinals in the World Series was just the morale booster the city needed. Eight years later, KC was faring slightly better but not out of the woods just yet; the urban renewal of the mid-to-late 1990s was in its early stages. The Royals hadn’t made the playoffs since then (obviously), but they were consistently first-division and at worst a .500 ballclub. The Royals were consistently good but seldom great, and with my interest in sports just beginning to bloom, this piqued my interest. My mom’s family were mostly Cubs fans, and their almost delusional devotion just didn’t make sense to me.
With our first World Series appearance in 29 years on the horizon, my pride is usurped by a desire to gloat. After decades of mismanagement, small-market budgeting, lousy scouting, squandered draft picks, and all-around irrelevance my beloved Royals are back in the promised land. Regardless of what happens in the 2014 World Series, I will remain just as proud of my favorite baseball team as I was when they consistently lost 100 games a year. Their improbable playoff run has been a thrill to watch, and I assure you that this displaced Royals fan will spend this year’s Fall Classic glued to a TV set.
Monday, October 13, 2014
The Legacy of Jan Hooks
With Saturday Night Live approaching its 40th anniversary this year, it's hard to fathom that we're inching closer to the prospect of seeing former cast members of old age. With the exception of World War II veteran Herb Sargent (who passed in 2008), the "In Memorium" reel is filled with actors and writers that died much too soon. Earlier this week Jan Hooks, one of the greatest female cast members in the show's four-decade history, died suddenly at age 57. Hooks had been sick for some time, though her illness has not been disclosed. A New York City resident since the early 1980s, this eulogy was probably the best I've read in the days following her passing.
If I had to pick my five favorite all-time female cast members, in chronological order I would choose Gilda Radner, Nora Dunn, Hooks, Amy Poehler, and Kristen Wiig (though Wiigy's spot is in close danger, thanks to current cast member Kate McKinnon). We all know Poehler is a bona fide TV star and Wiig's fledging movie career has already seen its ups and downs, the first three women on this list are known predominantly, if not almost exclusively, for their work on SNL. Much has written and said of Radner's influence on comedic actresses in recent decades, but people either intentionally ignore or overlook her very underwhelming career after Studio 8H. In fact, Radner might be the first alumni to be dismissed as "well, she was funny on SNL..."
From that perspective, Hooks' career trajectory is not dissimilar to Radner's. Like her frequent partner in crime Dunn, Hooks was a linchpin of what I usually refer to as the Renaissance era of SNL, part of arguably the greatest and tightest ensemble in NBC's veritable sketch comedy show. Where Dunn alienated the show's producers (including her ex-boyfriend, Lorne Michaels) by refusing to share a stage with host Andrew Dice Clay --and after a PR fiasco, was soon fired-- Hooks left on her own volition after five years. And yet, both Radner and Hooks spent their first post-SNL decade in the wilderness, Radner with questionable and often mediocre film projects, Hooks relegated to work as a character actress. Her greatest champion was fellow SNL alum Martin Short, who cast Hooks as his wife on both his short-lived self-titled sitcom as well as various projects with his alter ego Jiminy Glick. It wasn't until various medical issues in the mid-2000s forced Hooks to stop striving for elusive stardom.
So why did Radner, Dunn, and Hooks all struggle? Movie stardom was an attainable goal, yet it never really happened (assuming Dunn did not inadvertantly burn bridges for the Diceman episode). Of course, you could say the same thing about the entire Renaissance cast; Dennis Miller is infinitely stronger at stand-up than acting, Dana Carvey pulled a Radner and attached himself to some lousy scripts, and Kevin Nealon, Jon Lovitz and Phil Hartman found steady work in supporting roles. One could argue in hindsight that these actresses were overshadowed by their male co-stars, a viable argument given the "boys club" reputation SNL had through the mid-1990s. There was a misogynistic pecking order, and Dunn, Hooks, and Victoria Jackson took their place near the back of the line. Radner loved John Belushi like a brother and he seemed to recipricate the affection, but I doubt they ever saw each other as true equals.
Glass ceilings and internal sexism aside, Jan Hooks will go down as an all-time great in the SNL annals and one of its most underrated and underappreciated talents. She was a consumate team player, a star that shined both individually and alongside the extrordinary talent SNL incubated in the late 1980s. Outside of late Saturday nights, she was a versatile and clutch supporting actress, doing memorable work on TV series like "Designing Women," "Third Rock from the Sun," "The Simpsons," and "30 Rock." She accomplished quite a bit in 25-plus years as a working actress, and I hope her passing offers a fresh and positive perspective on a talent gone too soon.
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If I had to pick my five favorite all-time female cast members, in chronological order I would choose Gilda Radner, Nora Dunn, Hooks, Amy Poehler, and Kristen Wiig (though Wiigy's spot is in close danger, thanks to current cast member Kate McKinnon). We all know Poehler is a bona fide TV star and Wiig's fledging movie career has already seen its ups and downs, the first three women on this list are known predominantly, if not almost exclusively, for their work on SNL. Much has written and said of Radner's influence on comedic actresses in recent decades, but people either intentionally ignore or overlook her very underwhelming career after Studio 8H. In fact, Radner might be the first alumni to be dismissed as "well, she was funny on SNL..."
From that perspective, Hooks' career trajectory is not dissimilar to Radner's. Like her frequent partner in crime Dunn, Hooks was a linchpin of what I usually refer to as the Renaissance era of SNL, part of arguably the greatest and tightest ensemble in NBC's veritable sketch comedy show. Where Dunn alienated the show's producers (including her ex-boyfriend, Lorne Michaels) by refusing to share a stage with host Andrew Dice Clay --and after a PR fiasco, was soon fired-- Hooks left on her own volition after five years. And yet, both Radner and Hooks spent their first post-SNL decade in the wilderness, Radner with questionable and often mediocre film projects, Hooks relegated to work as a character actress. Her greatest champion was fellow SNL alum Martin Short, who cast Hooks as his wife on both his short-lived self-titled sitcom as well as various projects with his alter ego Jiminy Glick. It wasn't until various medical issues in the mid-2000s forced Hooks to stop striving for elusive stardom.
So why did Radner, Dunn, and Hooks all struggle? Movie stardom was an attainable goal, yet it never really happened (assuming Dunn did not inadvertantly burn bridges for the Diceman episode). Of course, you could say the same thing about the entire Renaissance cast; Dennis Miller is infinitely stronger at stand-up than acting, Dana Carvey pulled a Radner and attached himself to some lousy scripts, and Kevin Nealon, Jon Lovitz and Phil Hartman found steady work in supporting roles. One could argue in hindsight that these actresses were overshadowed by their male co-stars, a viable argument given the "boys club" reputation SNL had through the mid-1990s. There was a misogynistic pecking order, and Dunn, Hooks, and Victoria Jackson took their place near the back of the line. Radner loved John Belushi like a brother and he seemed to recipricate the affection, but I doubt they ever saw each other as true equals.
Glass ceilings and internal sexism aside, Jan Hooks will go down as an all-time great in the SNL annals and one of its most underrated and underappreciated talents. She was a consumate team player, a star that shined both individually and alongside the extrordinary talent SNL incubated in the late 1980s. Outside of late Saturday nights, she was a versatile and clutch supporting actress, doing memorable work on TV series like "Designing Women," "Third Rock from the Sun," "The Simpsons," and "30 Rock." She accomplished quite a bit in 25-plus years as a working actress, and I hope her passing offers a fresh and positive perspective on a talent gone too soon.
(458)
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Groot & Reboot: My SNL Review of Chris Pratt/Ariana Grande (9/27/14)
For the second summer in a row, the SNL offseason was a busy and tumultuous one. Last year's decision to overpopulate the cast fell just short of disaster; of the six new hires that we met in Tina Fey's monologue, only Beck Bennett and Kyle Mooney survived a caustic but necessary bloodletting. They join midseason hire Sasheer Zamata and co-head writer Colin Jost as the only Year 39 newbies to see their sophomore year. After five years of mostly thankless supporting roles, followed by a belated breakout of sorts in 2013-14, Nasim Pedrad left the cast for sitcom stardom. Joining the ranks in 2014-15 is Year 39 writer Michael Che (the first African-American Weekend Update anchor ever) and stand-up comedian Pete Davidson (the first cast member born in the 1990s, and only the third Latino in show history). The most obvious change of all was also the most tragic; announcer Don Pardo, who announced the opening credits for all but one season until last May, died of natural causes in August at age 96. His successor is former cast member Darrell Hammond, who I'm sure will resurrect his Bill Clinton impression as the Decision '16 picture clears up.
As SNL enters its 40th season (oy gevalt) expect past and present to converge and cross paths many times in the coming months. The next two scheduled hosts are cast alumni, one of the best and most beloved cast members of the past decade (Bill Hader) and one who had a single, nondescript season as a featured player and writer (the great Sarah Silverman). Tonight's show, however follows the pattern of booking the star of the biggest movie of the summer as well as the performer of the current #1 hit in the country. "Parks & Recreation" co-star/big screen heartthrob Chris Pratt and economy-size chanteuse Ariana Grande fits that bill.
For the purposes of this review, I'm mashing up the sketch-by-sketch analysis with assorted notes:
+ I know it's the season premiere, but it still annoys me when the cold opening starts with canned, thunderous applause. It just doesn't feel natural, you know?
+ As for the cold open itself, you can tell the various NFL scandals were on the minds of everyone in the writers room these past two weeks. It's a hot button topic, don't get me wrong, but I was more curious to see a topical sketch about, say, ISIS or Ferguson, MO. The sketch itself was okay; CNN's "State of the Union" set the template for Roger Goodell's (Chris) cluelessness, Ray Rice's (KT) dodginess, and Jay Pharaoh doing a cartoony take on mealymouthed Shannon Sharpe.
+ He already pointed this out on Instagram, but every character Taran Killam played tonight required a ridiculous amount of makeup.
+ Tonight's Weekend Update ran a bit long, yet at the same time offered a glimmer of hope to the undisputed weak spot of Season 39's second half. Michael Che has found his groove almost immediately, delivering clever jokes about Hillary Clinton's trip to Iowa and "Orange is the New Black." Colin Jost is still a work in progress; he seems a little more animated, but not by much. The return of The Girl You Wish You Hadn't Started a Conversation With at a Party was a passing of the baton of sorts; most SNL fans will argue that Colin was more problematic than Cecily, but she's clearly happier to be away from the WU desk. Whether you liked it or not, "youngster" Pete Davidson made a strong first impression with a stand-up bit about he would perform oral sex for obscene quantities of money.
+ I think I grasped what tonight's filmed piece was spoofing? The intentionally stilted dialogue and wooden acting suggested a parody of some lousy early '90s family sitcom --something akin to "Blossom" or ABC's TGIF juggernaut-- or maybe it exists to simply exist.
+ I don't know if Michael Che will be a regular presence in sketches, and I assume Pete Davidson will be at some point, but I was a little bewildered to see Cojo outside of the Update construct. Even as a football player accused of mail fraud "because he's the punter," it didn't really seem like Jost was playing a character.
+ Speaking of "NFL on CBS," Leslie Jones (a writer) was in more sketches than Sasheer Zamata (an actual cast member). Anomaly or buyer's remorse?
+ For a sitcom actress, Ariana Grande did not seem wholly uncomfortable in these surroundings. She clearly flubbed her only line in the "Birthday Wish" sketch, and apparently forgot her chereography in both of her musical performances. It wasn't a Lana Del Rey train wreck or a Ashlee Simpson meltdown by any means, but it was still underwhelming.
VERDICT: This was not a perfect show, but after the logjam of Year 39, this was a step in the right direction. This (slightly) smaller cast is a lot tighter, though the two newbies and the surviving members of the Class of '13 mostly took a backseat to more established members of the cast. Chris Pratt was a fun host, balancing his Starlord bravado with Andy Dwyer goofiness to great effect. The writing was as hit and miss as you'd expect, though the performances from Pratt and the repertory cast more than made up for it.
Overall grade: 6/10
As SNL enters its 40th season (oy gevalt) expect past and present to converge and cross paths many times in the coming months. The next two scheduled hosts are cast alumni, one of the best and most beloved cast members of the past decade (Bill Hader) and one who had a single, nondescript season as a featured player and writer (the great Sarah Silverman). Tonight's show, however follows the pattern of booking the star of the biggest movie of the summer as well as the performer of the current #1 hit in the country. "Parks & Recreation" co-star/big screen heartthrob Chris Pratt and economy-size chanteuse Ariana Grande fits that bill.
For the purposes of this review, I'm mashing up the sketch-by-sketch analysis with assorted notes:
+ I know it's the season premiere, but it still annoys me when the cold opening starts with canned, thunderous applause. It just doesn't feel natural, you know?
+ As for the cold open itself, you can tell the various NFL scandals were on the minds of everyone in the writers room these past two weeks. It's a hot button topic, don't get me wrong, but I was more curious to see a topical sketch about, say, ISIS or Ferguson, MO. The sketch itself was okay; CNN's "State of the Union" set the template for Roger Goodell's (Chris) cluelessness, Ray Rice's (KT) dodginess, and Jay Pharaoh doing a cartoony take on mealymouthed Shannon Sharpe.
+ He already pointed this out on Instagram, but every character Taran Killam played tonight required a ridiculous amount of makeup.
+ Tonight's Weekend Update ran a bit long, yet at the same time offered a glimmer of hope to the undisputed weak spot of Season 39's second half. Michael Che has found his groove almost immediately, delivering clever jokes about Hillary Clinton's trip to Iowa and "Orange is the New Black." Colin Jost is still a work in progress; he seems a little more animated, but not by much. The return of The Girl You Wish You Hadn't Started a Conversation With at a Party was a passing of the baton of sorts; most SNL fans will argue that Colin was more problematic than Cecily, but she's clearly happier to be away from the WU desk. Whether you liked it or not, "youngster" Pete Davidson made a strong first impression with a stand-up bit about he would perform oral sex for obscene quantities of money.
+ I think I grasped what tonight's filmed piece was spoofing? The intentionally stilted dialogue and wooden acting suggested a parody of some lousy early '90s family sitcom --something akin to "Blossom" or ABC's TGIF juggernaut-- or maybe it exists to simply exist.
+ I don't know if Michael Che will be a regular presence in sketches, and I assume Pete Davidson will be at some point, but I was a little bewildered to see Cojo outside of the Update construct. Even as a football player accused of mail fraud "because he's the punter," it didn't really seem like Jost was playing a character.
+ Speaking of "NFL on CBS," Leslie Jones (a writer) was in more sketches than Sasheer Zamata (an actual cast member). Anomaly or buyer's remorse?
+ For a sitcom actress, Ariana Grande did not seem wholly uncomfortable in these surroundings. She clearly flubbed her only line in the "Birthday Wish" sketch, and apparently forgot her chereography in both of her musical performances. It wasn't a Lana Del Rey train wreck or a Ashlee Simpson meltdown by any means, but it was still underwhelming.
VERDICT: This was not a perfect show, but after the logjam of Year 39, this was a step in the right direction. This (slightly) smaller cast is a lot tighter, though the two newbies and the surviving members of the Class of '13 mostly took a backseat to more established members of the cast. Chris Pratt was a fun host, balancing his Starlord bravado with Andy Dwyer goofiness to great effect. The writing was as hit and miss as you'd expect, though the performances from Pratt and the repertory cast more than made up for it.
Overall grade: 6/10
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Seasons of Love: "Chappelle's Show," Season Two (2004)
This year marks the unofficial tenth anniversary of what I'll call "Chappellemania." The mid-2000s were a lousy time for TV comedy --sitcom, sketch, or otherwise-- so for that time period I'd rank Chappelle's Show up there with "Arrested Development," "Scrubs," and Bush-era "Daily Show" among the few torch-bearers of the form. As a sketch comedy in 2004, Dave Chappelle was running laps around the competition: SNL was still struggling to find itself post-Will Ferrell, and MADtv was consistently inconsistent and relying heavily on one-note recurring characters.
The story behind the Dave Chappelle's rise to fame and confusing downfall is a fable told many times, a cautionary tale of too much too soon. After years of struggling, including a procession of failed TV pilots, Chappelle became an overnight success. However, writer's block and interference from Viacom instigated an apparent nervous breakdown from which Chappelle is still recovering. He gave us two years of great sketches and pointed social commentary (let's pretend the piecemeal, mostly Chappelle-free third season didn't happen) before disappearing into the ether. He returned to stand-up in recent years a humbled family man, but it just isn't the same.
So how does "Seasons of Love" tackle a sketch comedy show? By focusing more on the individual sketches, rather than episodes. Sketch comedy is inherently uneven, so it would seem unwieldy to judge the second season of "Chappelle's Show" by looking at an entire 30-minute episode (including the obligatory music video) as a whole. The first year is fine in its own right, but I'll argue that season two is a desert-island comedy pick.
Five Favorites:
"The Racial Draft," 1/21/04. The first home run of season two comes at the tail end of the season premiere. Combining Chappelle's yen for racial humor with the bloated media spectacle of the NFL and NBA drafts, various ethnicities claim dibs on racially ambigious media figures. Come for Chappelle's goofy Tiger Woods impression, stay for the self-deprecating Wu-Tang Clan cameo.
"Black Gallagher," 1/28/04. More or less a blackout sketch, this short, sweet, and succient bit lampoons the one-joke oddity that is Gallagher. Let's just say the Slegde-O-Matic is far from what the audience was expecting.
"Charlie Murphy's True Hollywood Stories," 2/11/04. Arguably the best-known, most-loved, and most quoted sketch in the entire series, Eddie's older brother (and an okay comedian in his own right) details a nightmarish evening in 1982 with the R&B star, by then a full-blown coke addict and apparent sociopath. The madness of this particular night is augmented by commentary from the real-life James, who denies nothing ("cocaine is a helluva drug") and only intermittently seems remorseful. When James died suddenly six months later, Comedy Central conspicuously paid tribute by repeating this episode three times in the span of six hours. Pecularily, Charlie's perilous brush with fame led to...
"Charlie Murphy's True Hollywood Stories," 2/18/04. ...an encounter with Prince. Where Chappelle's imitation of Rick James vaulted the show into the pop culture stratosphere, this one-off encounter with the Purple One might have been the stronger sketch. A chance meeting at an after-party segues into Charlie and friends getting their asses kicked on the basketball court by the diminutive guitar god (Chappelle again, see above) and his puffy-shirted entourage. There was no Greek chorus here; you'd just have to take Charlie's word for it.
"Black Bush," 4/14/04. Topical sketches typically have a short shelf life, and it usually doesn't work as nostalgia. However, the last sketch of the season is a unique exception. Chappelle and crew reimagine the Bush administration's initial handling of Operation Enduring Freedom as if our 43rd president were a disingenuous black guy. (The cameo from Prime Minister "Black Blair" is a riot.) Just when it seemed like Chappelle's near-constant skewing of race relations was starting to wear thin, it roars back with a vengence.
Your thoughts?
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Saturday, September 13, 2014
Snap Decision
The NFL took a big credibility hit this month. Whether or not you thought Roger Goodell's punishment of former Ravens Pro Bowler Ray Rice was enough, the slow, doddering response was appalling. To assume that a battery or spousal abuse charge would get a lighter punishment than a failed drug or PED test is baffling, despite an ex post facto attempt at changing and augmenting the length of suspension. Not making any real changes until definitive video footage of Rice knocking out his then-fiancee, however is disingenuous. Rice's actions were inexcusable, and it deserved more than a slap on the wrist.
So does Roger Goodell deserve to lose his job? The National Organization of Women's demands of resignation are drastic. The new punishment that Rice faces is far more justified; not only is he suspended indefinitely, but his entire NFL career has been jeopardized. I do, however recommend an investigation into what Goodell knew and how he learned of this information. I waffled at the thought of Goodell being forced out until this surfaced; while not a cover-up on the scale of Watergate, was more than just a slip-up. It's not like the NFL didn't know what the other hand was doing; someone in the organization was stashing evidence. For that, Goodell will likely get forced out.
Other notes:
+ Part of me worries that we created this ISIS (ISIL?) monster. As such, we're the only country that can stop them. Much like Afghanistan in the early 1980s, we support a rebel organization in a foreign country (one, we assume, based in democracy) fighting a totalitarian power, and in due time it backfires. This time around, we're fighting an organization that makes Al Qaida look like the Apple Dumpling Gang. I fear history is doomed to repeat itself.
+ So... how about those Royals?
Next Week: the next installment of "Seasons of Love."
(455)
So does Roger Goodell deserve to lose his job? The National Organization of Women's demands of resignation are drastic. The new punishment that Rice faces is far more justified; not only is he suspended indefinitely, but his entire NFL career has been jeopardized. I do, however recommend an investigation into what Goodell knew and how he learned of this information. I waffled at the thought of Goodell being forced out until this surfaced; while not a cover-up on the scale of Watergate, was more than just a slip-up. It's not like the NFL didn't know what the other hand was doing; someone in the organization was stashing evidence. For that, Goodell will likely get forced out.
Other notes:
+ Part of me worries that we created this ISIS (ISIL?) monster. As such, we're the only country that can stop them. Much like Afghanistan in the early 1980s, we support a rebel organization in a foreign country (one, we assume, based in democracy) fighting a totalitarian power, and in due time it backfires. This time around, we're fighting an organization that makes Al Qaida look like the Apple Dumpling Gang. I fear history is doomed to repeat itself.
+ So... how about those Royals?
Next Week: the next installment of "Seasons of Love."
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