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Sports columnist Jason Whitlock is often an interesting commentator on race issues, particularly as they relate to sports. Here’s an excerpt from his column today:

The people at the top of the rap music food chain should not be afforded such easy forgiveness. They know exactly what they’re doing. They know the dishonesty and the illogic that fuels the popular sentiment within commercial rap music industry that states the embrace of the N-word is harmless because young people have redefined it and erased its dehumanizing power.

This popular mantra is every bit as intellectually dishonest as the mantra that slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, lynching and discrimination are issues that no longer affect modern American society.

Jay-Z and the other denigration rappers and comedians love to say they’ve taken the N-word from bigots and transformed it into a word of affection and respect. It’s a lie.

The N-word was given to/slapped on black people in America 300 years ago to justify our mistreatment. It was given to define us as less than human so that mentally slave owners would have no trouble treating us as animals.

You don’t change something built to destroy you into something that uplifts you. It’s the equivalent of thinking the slop/food fed to slaves can be transformed into raw fruits and vegetables. As bad as our diet is today (and it’s a direct descendant of what we were forced to eat 300 years ago), actually what we’re trying to do with the N-word is much worse.

The N-word is human feces. It’s not meant for consumption. Jay-Z and his defenders can sauté human waste in butter and garlic for a month and it’s still gonna taste like $**t and lead to poor health.

As long as we keep cooking and serving up the N-word to each other, we’re going to remain mentally comfortable hunting and executing each other like animals and throwing on baseball caps supporting the killers.

Regardless of the user, the N-word is still doing the exact job it was intended to do in the 1700s. Hell, it’s doing a better job.

I honestly can’t claim enough familiarity with race issues to know how I feel about this. On the one hand, the attempted taking-over of the N-word and its concurrent attempted transformation into a tool of irony is a fascinating cultural development. On the other, I’m not sure it’s a good thing.

In fact, as a white male, I’m not sure I even can ever gain sufficient familiarity with race issues to have a genuine feeling about this, other than a vague sense that something is deeply wrong, that racism is still alive and well, albeit mostly bubbling beneath the surface. Trouble with that is, lots of things do even more damage when they’re bubbling beneath the surface, because that allows us to get complacent and think, oftentimes, that it’s not there at all.

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Shouldn’t we elect him to something?

JK Rowling has been unmasked as the actual author of a crime novel.

Which jogged my memory. Here is guy-who-knows-everything Ken Jennings, writing almost six years ago:

Structurally, these aren’t fantasy novels at all. They’re fair-play mysteries in wizard’s clothing–novels with not just plots and characters and setpieces, but “solutions” as well. J. K. Rowling is justly praised for her elaborate and meticulous world-building, but I’m convinced that a lot of that endless detail is just there for standard detective-novel purposes: to distract, to confound, to envelop the real “clues” in a Cloak of Invisibility.

…

I bet Rowling’s first post-Harry Potter book–talk about a hard act to follow–will be a classic mystery of some kind. I don’t know if it’ll be a hard-boiled gumshoe case, a true-crime police procedural, a classic manor-house throwback, or what, but it’ll be a mystery novel. She’s been writing them all along, after all. It’s just that no one’s noticed.

(Emphasis added.)

Casual Vacancy excepted, Mr. Jennings certainly had Rowling pegged. Go read his post, by the way — it’s not long, but the stuff I snipped out is a cool examination of mystery story tropes as deployed in the Harry Potter books. (Which I plan to re-read this winter.)

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Sentential Links

Holy crap, it’s been a long time since the last time I did one of these. I know the blog has spent an unfair amount of time on the back burner of late, as I strive to beat Princesses Still In SPACE!!! (not the actual title) into submission, but wow. Anyway, here are some linkworthy links.

:: In the similar mode, I’m suggesting a “slow audience response” movement. Please stop talking when the speaker/movie/concert starts, and wait for the event to actually end before fumbling with your keys. You may actually enjoy it better if you are “present” at the event, rather than treating it as one more thing to check off the to-do list. I KNOW your fellow audience members will appreciate it. (I couldn’t agree more. I’ve never understood why it is that people are always in such a damned rush to get out of the movie theater. And it’s like a conditioned response with some folks: their brains are wired to bounce up and head for the exit the second the words “Directed by ___” appear on screen. I’ve noticed, over the last few years, that sometimes movies will have “Easter Egg” content during the credits, if not actual scenes, so the credits-sprinters will stand up, move to the stairs along the side, and then stand there until they’re satisfied that they can leave. Why not just keep your asses in the seats? Where are you going?!

I recall some conversation years ago on some classical music-related blogs on the subject of applause in between movements of multi-movement works. This doesn’t really bother me all that much, but I do recall attending a Buffalo Philharmonic concert years ago when they played the Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 5. There’s a spot in the last movement where everything builds to one long, dramatic chord, which the orchestra holds until the conductor gives the cut-off. There’s a pause of a few seconds, and then the conductor cues the orchestra to begin the final portion of the work. The problem is, the folks at the concert weren’t musically literate enough to not recognize the fact that that long, sustained chord couldn’t possibly be the end of the work. So as soon as the conductor cut the chord off, the audience started applauding. For a work that wasn’t even finished. Oy.)

:: They were both great horses, but the difference between Roy Rogers’ Trigger and the Lone Ranger’s Silver was that Trigger was well-trained. Silver just knew. (I still want to see The Lone Ranger, and almost certainly will, when it comes to DVD.)

:: The waiter apologizes and says he hasn’t felt good all night. He thinks it’s something he ate. Oh, that’s comforting. Your waiter has such a high fever he could could fry your Monte Christo on his head. (Mmmmmm…Monte Cristo sandwich…ummm, sorry.)

:: Dear Mr. Card,

I wanted you to know that I recently read your statement regarding the proposed boycott of ‘Ender’s Game’, and I can understand where you’re coming from in your plea for tolerance. Believe me, I can understand what it’s like to worry that your livelihood will be affected by the intolerance of others. Many of my LGBT friends have had to face open discrimination in the workplace due to the kind of open hatred you personally fostered with your time and money…and in fact, continue to foster today, despite your belief that the whole issue is now “moot”. So I can deeply sympathize with your hope that “the victorious proponents of gay marriage will show tolerance toward those who disagreed with them when the issue was still in dispute.”

:: What if E.T. and the Thing had a baby, and horribly, that baby was Jeff Bridges?

:: Providence has sent a solution after all! (I can barely process this.)

:: For me, the point of having a personal blog is that it’s basically a journal for me. A place where I talk to myself about whatever the hell I want. A place to work out how I feel about my life and the world, or to document my struggle with weight and mental disorders, or to list my favorite things, or to talk about the movies I saw. If someone else reads it and likes it, cool. That’s wonderful. But it’s not done for them. It’s done for me. It’s done because I feel a need to write it all down someplace. That’s the point of it. Frankly, the only person that I really, truly care about reading it is my wife, because I want my wife and me to know each other as much as possible. She’s really the only one who I need to understand me. It’s not about validation by strangers; it’s just me having fun and introducing a fraction of structure into my weekly routine.

:: And watch Monteith, and how accessible he is, how available. He’s a big strapping guy, a foot taller than everyone else, and his body shows the awkwardness of not quite knowing what to do with himself, but that just makes him more honest, more open: there is no artifice in him, no protection, no holding back. (I’ve never liked Glee, but my dislike of the show has always been mostly on a conceptual level and in the way it treats the music and the enterprise thereof. The talent involved in the show, however, is quite often jaw-dropping. This young man’s passing is a cruel, cruel loss.)

More next week! (I hope!)

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The Problem

We expect our legal system to produce moral consequences, and yet, so often it does not. It’s probably the case that a codified legal system can’t be expected to always produce moral consequences, precisely because what’s moral cannot be so precisely codified. But this does not excuse a lack of efforts to try to make it better, and it certainly does not lessen the pain that arises when the moral and the legal so spectacularly fail to intersect.

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Sunday Burst of Weird and Awesome

Oddities and Awesome abound!

:: An oral history of the 1989 Cleveland Indians. Oddly, official Major League Baseball archives don’t seem to have much information about this team, so this oral history and the cinematic documentary on the subject, are likely to remain the only sources of historical data.

:: Here is the short tale of a very helpful motorcyclist.


:: Another baseball-related item: Baseball’s dying traditions.

More next week….

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Something for Thursday

A violin concerto today, and one of my favorites! I love the way this concerto eschews any introductory stuff in favor of jumping right into the melody, and I love the way the Romantic lyricism is tempered with a Classical attention to structure. Pay special attention to what happens at about 2:50 in the first movement: the soloist (Hilary Hahn in this case, one of this generation’s finest musicians) soars to a very high note on a dramatic flourish, but as she does, you can hear the tension dropping away, and then she arpeggiates down to a very low note, which she sustains while the woodwinds play the movement’s lovely second theme. That is one of my very favorite passages in all classical music.

Here is the Violin Concerto in E minor, by Felix Mendelssohn.

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So…parched….


P070913PS-0097, originally uploaded by The White House.

I’ve written in the past about my love of the White House’s Official Flickr Stream, and I’m overdue to share some stuff from there…but this particular photo cracked me up, because there are all these people in this conference room setting, clustered around tables with the President, and only the President gets a water bottle.

Wassat? One of you is thirsty? Well, that’s just too damned bad. You just sit there and watch the President take a nice, cold sip from Hydration Force One!

Heck, a couple of the people in this photo actually seem to be staring longingly at the President’s water bottle! That dude on the left, the one who looks vaguely like James Doohan in Star Trek VI — I think he’s really thinking, “Shit, why did I eat those salted peanuts before I came in here….”

UPDATE: OK, looking at this some more, it’s even funnier. The three people immediately to the President’s left are amazing. The two guys are staring off blankly into space, but neither is staring at the same thing. And the lady in magenta looks like she’s sneaking a text message in under the table!

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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