Category Archives: pop culture

Thank You, Officer Torres: Fictional Characters You Fell in Love With

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***A version of this entry was originally posted three years ago***

I can honestly say that “The Terminal” is undoubtedly one of my favorite movies. For those unfamiliar with the plot, Tom Hanks plays Viktor Navorski, an Eastern European man forced to live in JFK for six months when he’s denied entry onto US soil, but also can’t fly back to his native country because they’re in a middle of revolution. In those six months, he learns English, befriends many of the people working at the airport, begins a somewhat unrequited romance with a flight attendant played by a surprisingly fetching Catherine Zeta-Jones, and hilariously irritates the head immigration officer more and more by the day — a guy who tries to do everything legally possible to rid himself of the “Navorski problem,” but fails repeatedly. (Stanley Tucci was great in this role, btw)

Yet, despite Hanks’ comedic affectations, Zeta-Jones’ world-weary milfy sexiness, Spielberg’s direction, and great performances by myraid actors, the movie solidified itself on my “top” list because of a single relatively insignificant character — a person who probably spoke less than 500 words the entire flick…

…Zoe Saldana’s Officer Torres…

…my favorite fictional love-interest of all-time. (Honorable mentions: Nia Long’s Brandy from “Boyz n the Hood” and Elastagirl from “The Incredibles” )

In her mere 15 to 20 minutes of screen-time, Saldana’s character somehow managed to exhibit pretty much every quality on my “ideal mate checklist” — compassion, intelligence, humility, romantic optimism, a tight blue uniform, quirkiness; it’s like they intentionally grafted a character straight out of my subconscious.

Aiight. That’s enough from me today. People of VSB, if you could bag (and “bag” in this instance could mean anything from “date” or “court” to “sleep with” or “imprison them in a texas ranch for 15 years“) any fictional character from any book, movie, or TV show, or web series, who would it be? Remember, I’m not referring to real live actors or actresses, but fictional characters who had you completely enthralled.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

How Rick Ross Proves That Irrational Self-Confidence is The Ultimate Panty-Dropper

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I published something at Ebony yesterday about the peculiar infatuation many white-collar young black guys seem to have with Rick Ross. Titled “Strange Love: Black Men and Rick Ross,” I tried to come up with a few reasons to explain this phenomenon, but I didn’t really buy any of them. There were no “Voila!” moments, just a couple theories that didn’t hold as much water as I would have liked them to.

Anyway, after I saw that the article was live, I posted a link to it on Twitter. It got a few replies/retweets, but none more interesting than the responses I got from Demetria Lucas. 

@VerySmartBros@EBONYMag there’s a quality essay to be written abt why bourgie women like Ross too. Totally diff reasons than you mentioned.

@VerySmartBros LOL. I might be one of his biggest fans.

@VerySmartBros@EBONYMag i enjoy the themes of hustle/ambition. and also the shameless arrogance. similar reasons to why I like Kanye.

 

As I said in a reply to her, I remember how floored I was a few years ago the first time I heard a female friend of mine express that she was infatuated with Rick Ross. As variable and unpredictable and arbitrary and contradictory and occasionally dependent on time, weather, location, vocation, and how many of her girlfriends want to sleep (or have already slept) with him as “what the hell women are attracted to” tends to be, I thought I had a pretty good idea of the type of guy that would get multiple women all Brazilian Rainforesty down there. Basically, it’s easy to see how and why women would be very attracted to guys like Idris Elba and Dwyane Wade and Common, and you assume that most women would go gaga over those guys.

But, that same instant recognition didn’t immediately apply to Ross, and I had trouble “getting” how a life-threateningly obese guy who looks like he smells like a Black & Mild factory managed to, to quote my homegirl, get her “all tingly inside” when he speaks.

Yet, as more and more and more and more women I knew would sing his praises, it began to dawn on me. His appeal isn’t necessarily about his music or his voice or his larger-than-life stature or even his (presumed) riches as much as it’s about the fact that he is an unfalteringly, unflinchingly, unflappably, and, to be quite honest, irrationally confident motherf*cker. His steadfast belief in his own “I’m the sh*t”-ness — even when the shaky merits of his status are publicly questioned and exposed — is infectious, causing others to believe “Well, if he’s so certain, he must be the sh*t” by osmosis.

Obviously, this doesn’t affect everyone. There are many women who are, for lack of a better term, disgusted by him, and even more disgusted that everyone isn’t disgusted.

Ross is just one example, though, of the fact that there is no other quality a man can possess that will “raise his sexual stock” better than a belief in himself so strong it almost borders on insanity. Irrational self-confidence — not height, not status, not intelligence, not handsomeness, not a Bentley coupe — is the ultimate panty-dropper. 

This doesn’t mean that this level of confidence won’t immediately repel many women too. It most certainly will. In fact, it will immediately repel far more women than it immediately attracts. But, the fact that it does repel actually adds to the aura, as knowing that this irrationally confident motherf*cker doesn’t give a damn if his irrational confidence offends anyone, hurts any feelings, or even makes any logical sense has a way of turning women all the way on.

Also, it’s important to note that I keep repeating terms like “panty-dropping” and “turned on” and “tingly” and “Brazilian Rainforesty.” That’s intentional. By and large, women usually do not want to seriously date and/or marry irrationally confident men. No one aside from the WorldStarHipHop “model” of the week actually wants to marry Rick Ross.

But, white-collar brothers, be warned. Why? Well, let’s just say that if your girl is sitting beside you smirking to herself while you’re blasting “MC Hammer” in the whip on the way to brunch, she’s probably not thinking about bottomless mimosas.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

What Exactly Makes a “Good” Parent?

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What a difference a month makes

As any NFL fan (and most New Yorkers) undoubtedly know, there’s an annual ritual that occurs somewhere between the 3rd and 8th weeks of the NFL season each year. The New York Giants will be struggling, a few anonymous sources from the team will leak quotes to the media about how much the entire team hates head coach Tom Coughlin, and a few prominent beat writers and reporters will pen articles about how the team has tired of Coughlin’s rigid ways and that it’s time to make a change.¹

Seriously, if you were to look up the term “hot seat” in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of a red-faced and exasperated Coughlin in the middle of the same exaggerated head shake/eye roll combo an assistant principal at a high school would make after hearing that the gym locker room toilets were clogged again.

He’s never won (and never will win) coach of the year. Whenever Sports Illustrated or ESPN.com does one of those anonymous player surveys, he’s always the choice as “the coach I’d least like to play for.” He’s not regarded as an evil genius like Bill Belichick, a guru like Jon Gruden, a master motivator/player’s coach like Mike Tomlin or Pete Carroll, or even an “old guy whose best days are behind him but still has something in the tank” like (the extremely overrated) Mike Shanahan. He is actually a stereotypically bad assistant principal — a micro-manager whose obsession with mind-numbing routine and authoritarianism ends up undermining the power he already has².

But, as of Sunday night, Coughlin is the head coach of two Super Bowl champions, a feat matched by few others. A man many wouldn’t consider a great (or even good) NFL coach has twice bested the man thought of as the best football coach of his generation.

Today, the Coughlin narrative is that he’s an underappreciated motivator and technician. The end results (two championships) have justified any means, and 50 years from now, no one will remember that he came within a hair of getting fired every year. All they’ll see is “Tom Coughlin = two-time Super Bowl champion” and they’ll assume that he was a great coach.

Now, there’s an obvious parallel between coaching and parenting (and teaching, even), and I brought up Tom Coughlin’s career because it ties directly into a question I’ve always had about parenting.

What exactly makes a “good” or “great” parent?

This seems like it should be an easy question to answer. A good parent is a selfless individual who loves their children unconditionally, stops at nothing to provide for and protect them, teaches them whatever needs taught, and models good behavior.

But, if the ultimate goal of a parent is to make sure their offspring are productive, capable, and well-adjusted members of society, what’s to make of “good” parents who were, to put it bluntly, failures?

How do you gauge the parental merits of loving, selfless, and upstanding individuals who’ve raised kids who grew up to be liars, deadbeats, thieves, rapists, murders, and Laker fans? Would you consider a parent “good” if they were successful and happy and well-adjusted, but their children were the exact opposite?

Perhaps, like a “good” coach who just wasn’t able to find a way to motivate his team, maybe a good parent with sh*tty offspring has all the proper parental tools but just didn’t apply them properly…making them bad at being a parent

On the flipside, what do you make of people who’ve managed to succeed in spite of what looked to be lackluster and/or deficient parenting? The man who’s managed to become a renowned surgeon despite his overbearing and still hard to please alcoholic father? The woman who never received a single compliment from her ruthless and manipulative mother but ended up being a caring, successful, and well-adjusted lawyer and mom herself? The kid from the projects who, after seeing how heroin tore apart his family, got a PhD. in neuroscience to study addiction and help make sure what happened to his family doesn’t happen to any others?

On the surface, no one would say that any of these people had good parents, but you can’t deny the fact that their relationships with their parents helped motivate and inspire them to become who they are today. Again, if parental merits depend on the offspring you send out into the world, the “sh*tty” parents definitely succeeded. Perhaps these parents, bad as they may have seemed, were only doing what they thought it took to ensure their children’s success as adults.

And, just as you probably won’t hear any Giants complain about Coughlin’s rigidity or out-of-touchness today, you’re probably not going to hear any of the people from the last paragraph complain too much about how they were raised.

If the Giants don’t make the playoffs this year, Coughlin gets fired. Now, though, each of his negative characteristics become pluses through euphemism. (i.e.: “he’s a micro-manager” turns into “he’s steadfastly committed to excellence”)

If these people don’t turn out successful, the drunk dad is an asshole, the manipulative mom is a bitch, and the kid with the addicts in his family just had too much on his plate to overcome. If successful, though, the asshole dad becomes “a guy who believed in tough love,” the bitchy mom is just a “perfectionist who wanted the best for me,” and the kids from the projects reflects on all the sacrifices his people made to help him make it.

I guess I’m trying to say that whether a person is a good parent or not is completely arbitrary, completely variable, and completely dependent on the quality of kid they produce. But, to be honest, I don’t even really believe that. A part of me still thinks that, despite what I’ve tried to prove today, good parenting is like pornography — you can’t really define it, but you know it when you see it. 

Hmm. I forget which Gladwell book it was (actually, it might have been “Freakonomics.” I really have no idea), but I remember a passage in it that basically stated that the best parenting is done before a kid is even born. The genes you pass on to him and the financial situation he’s born in do waaaaay more to help (or hurt) him succeed than anything you can do as a parent.

If this is true, perhaps coaching and parenting are more intertwined than I thought. As any Giants fan will surely tell you today, “good coach” is just another way of saying “he was lucky enough to have some good ass players.”

¹There’s an article at Slate.com that goes much more in-depth on this “ritual.” I remember reading it there, and I know it’s somewhere in here, but I couldn’t find it yesterday.

 

²No shots at any assistant principals reading this

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Three Ways To Make Black History Month Better

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Black History Month: Home to the weirdest and worst collages ever made

Whether it’s feeling a certain way about the fact that it’s the shortest month of the year, becoming annoyed with the underlying message that Black American history isn’t necessarily American and needs to be segregated, or being forced to remember the time in middle school when, since you were the only black kid in your class, your teacher — a well-intentioned 37 year old Irish-Catholic woman who thought it was appropriate to rock dashikis to school each Feburary — asked you to read a few pages from Jet Magazine aloud in front of the class each day for a month, there are few subjects that inspire the type of collective angst among a population that Black History Month does for Black Americans.

It’s the proverbial perpetually drunk uncle at Thanksgiving: You know he’s coming and you can’t not invite him, so you just hope and pray that he doesn’t get wasted and face-plant into the greens during grace like he did last year.

But, like the drunk uncle, we do actually love and appreciate Black History Month, and we’d miss it if it didn’t show up. Our angst comes from us just wanting it to do…better.

Here’s three possible ways we can make that happen.

1. Move it to May

Boom. In one fell swoop, one of the most common complaints about Black History Month — it’s the shortest month of the year — is rectified.

Why May? Well, two reasons:

A) Aside from the NBA playoffs and Memorial Day (which, for all intents and purposes, is a June holiday anyway), nothing that actually matters happens in May. I’d even go as far as to say that no one born in May has ever mattered¹. (There’s a reason you’re never going to see a coffee table book titled “A Look At The World’s Most Famous Tauruses Taureans“) Since this is true, why not just hijack the entire month? No one is going to feel bad about it. And, even if they do, they were born in May so their opinion doesn’t f*cking matter anyway.

B) Pushing it to the end of the school year will act as a drop-out deterrent for the tens of thousands of black kids who drop out of school every year. Many of these drop outs occur during the end of the school year (Why? The warm weather and the fact that, by that point, knowing they’re going to have to repeat the year makes it easier to chuck the deuces to school²), and putting Black History Month in May will allow black teachers to give em the ultimate guilt trips. You just can’t learn about Marcus Garvey and Sojourner Truth on Tuesday and decide to drop out of school Wednesday.

“So, Harriet Tubman ran barefoot and hungry through five states to escape slavery and your black ass can’t even walk three blocks to school???”

2. Add “Honorary Negros” to the Black History books

Look, I don’t want to minimize the contributions of any African-American who made their mark on history, but there are some things and people celebrated during Black History Month that have a way of making you think “Umm. I know he’s black and all, but does the guy who invented red Kool-Aid really need his own postage stamp?”

So, instead of grasping for historical straws, why not just add a few people who technically aren’t black but have a strong connection to the black community? How cool would it be to have days devoted to white men who date nothing but black women (i.e.: Roger Ebert, Robert De Niro, “Hesh” from The Sopranos, etc), people who invented things that black people love…even though they weren’t actually invented with that purpose in mind (i.e.: James Naismith, whoever invented the button that allows you to lean the driver’s seat back, the angel who convinced God to invent the ass, etc), and Shelia E.?

3. Pressure Congress To Enact “National Piece of The Pie Day”

While it’s great to recognize and honor those who’ve set the foundation for us, part of the Black History month angst has to do with the fact that, while things aren’t all peachy for us now, they’re much,much better then they were in the past. And, hearing about all the great things some of our ancestors did in legitimately sh*tty situations can make us feel like we aint sh*t right now (Which may be true — there’s a likelihood that we collectively aint sh*t — but that’s a different topic for a different day). 

So, to combat this feeling, why not have a day during Black History Month where the national script is flipped and it’s legally mandated that we have to be allowed to do certain things (i.e.: get bank loans, hail cabs, get great service at restaurants, point fingers in police officer’s and president’s faces, etc) that seem to be reserved for non-blacks?

And, as a way to appease the millions of non-blacks who definitely will have an issue with “Piece of The Pie” day, your special privileges will get revoked if you get caught doing certain “black” things the week before. Not going into detail on what exactly I mean by “black” things, but let’s just say that you may want to pick another time of the year to take a 75 minute lunch break or give a waitress a $2 tip on a $37 bill.

Anyway, that’s it for me today, but I’m sure I’m forgetting a few. People of VSB, can you think of any other additions/changes to Black History Month that would make it better?

¹I know Malcolm X was born in May, but why let facts get in the way of a perfectly good point?
²This could actually be true, but I’m totally making this up right now.

—Damon Young aka “The Champ”

Black America’s Secret Shame

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As we all know, February is Black History Month. For the record, I’m not one of those people who complain that somehow Black history coincides with the shortest month of the year. Frankly, I don’t give a damn. It’s not like we (and by we, I mean those Black folks who complain that Black History Month is the shortest month of the year) really commemorate Black achievements all day everyday anyway. Besides, it used to be Black History WEEK, so I look at it like this…

…we got 21 more days to complain that America doesn’t do enough to celebrate Black achievements and accomplishments!

BAZINGA!

Anyway, being as its Black people month, and being as that I’m Black, I see it only fitting that I dedicate some posts in February to Black topics. Its gonna be on and poppin’. As well it should be since Black folks often get it on and poppin’ with things such as the bottle formerly known as Cristal, thongs, pills, and basketball. One could say we are a poppalicious people, though I prefer the bootylicious nature of Black women. And I don’t care how much you hate Beyonce, “Bootylicious” (written and produced/co-produced/conceived by Beyonce) was a great moment in Black history. Honestly…with lyrics like, “I don’t think you’re ready/for this jelly”, how could it not progress Black society. Kids everywhere were running around embarassing the sh*t out of us folks that can read talking about being bootylicious. Hell, even WHITE girls got into the act, further making me want to kill myself.

Okay, I swear that there is a point in there somewhere.

Ah yes, Black America’s secret shame. There are different kinds of Black folks out there. I know, shocker. Many have tried to paint Black people with one brush and say that we are all one and the burdens of my brother are my burdens. And I used to believe that until a strange thing happened one day. Can you guess what it was? Go ahead, take a gander.

*singing “I’m sexy and I know it”*

Done guessing?? Good. What happened to me was that I learned how to read.

*gasp*

That might sound messed up, but fret not, it gets worse. When I learned to read, a whole new world opened up to me. Butterfly’s in the sky, hell, I could fly twice as high like Aladdin and Jasmine! The older I’ve gotten and the more I’ve read, the more things have changed. Over time, I learned to not be afraid of information and actually seek it out causing me to do things that other Black men didn’t do like…go to college. Or even graduate. No Kanye.

So it was in this new world with new knowledge I obtained from reading new sh*t that I started to notice the differences between Black people. And just to be purposefully offensive, I’ll state some of the differences I noticed:

Some Black folks worked, some didn’t.

Some lived in suburbs, some lived in projects.

Some tried to assimilate into white society, some acted like assholes in public…almost seeming to be on purpose.

Some were reserved, some are just loud.

These are just a few of the differences. But that last one is the one that stands out to me. It brought to my attention and epiphanized a strange phenomenon in the Black community. It would seem that Black America’s Secret Shame is…

…hold on…

…it’s coming…

…wait for it…

…Black people.

Yes. Black people. Black American’s are secretly ashamed of other Black people. I know. It’s one of the most fucked up things you’ve ever heard. I hear you looking at me crazy. But it’s true. Black people that can read and write, and have gardens to tend, and garages that actually house cars, and have the OPTION to live amongst white people are ashamed of other Black people.

[***DISCLAIMER: These are fun, I swear. Which Black people am I talking about that are ashamed of other Black people??? You ninja. Yes you, the Black person that is reading this right now instead of in the projects affectionately known as WorldStarHipHop. The Black person who reads and writes. F*ck that, the Black person who ENJOYS reading. Yes, you. Does it sound elitist? Yes it does...but here's the test: if you have at any point in your existence, been somewhere, and an unruly group of Black youth have come into your presence and you cringed and/or uttered the word "n*ggas" under your breath...then this means you. Mmkay pumpkin?***]

Believe you me, it’s true. It’s a sad reality yet one that exists. Take for instance young Black folks on subway systems across America. Now those youth don’t care about being loud and obnoxious. Hell, it’s what kids do. However, you care. You wonder to yourself , why the hell they won’t shut up. Then you do scan the audience the kids have attracted. You scan the white faces for disapproval, and then you scan the Black faces for disgust.

For some reason, both the Black and white people are upset at the ungodly display of the youths. White folks will just have their notions reinforced, and Black folks will be afraid that the white folks are having their notions reinforced. And somewhere shame comes into the picture. Black folks start to think, “dammit, why won’t they just act right, they are making us all look bad. F*ckin’ cockaroaches!”

You have experienced…honest to goodness…

…shame.

Shame for fear that those Black folks who aren’t like you are setting us normal Black folks back years and years. It is that same shame that occurs when you take a ghetto member of your family out with you who then proceeds to act a damn fool on purpose, proving why they are the ghetto member of your family.

But you know what, they are ashamed of you too.

Sometimes they are trying to prove a point, too. The point may be that you aren’t any better than they are. And they are just as ashamed because they feel like you sold out when they remember when you all used to sleep three to a bed. They are ashamed, and thus shaming your bougie ass into realizing that you aren’t any better than they are. Hmm, ironic isn’t it. The better off we are, the more reminders we get from folks who aren’t so well off that we ain’t sh*t and didn’t come from sh*t.

Differences.

I’m not judging nor looking down on anybody. I’ve done more than my fair share in both worlds. As far as I’m concerned we all came from nothing. Essentially, I love all my Black peoples. EXCEPT those ignant somebodies who feel the need to make me look bad so that they don’t look bad by themselves. Crabs in a barrel are a b*tch. And it is those Black folks who draw my ire time and time again. The ones who are ashamed but secretly jealous of the Black folks who are doing well because those Black folks are sellouts and have no place in the hood. Those Black folks who are ashamed of other Black folks success because they don’t have it.

But it goes the other way too. Those Black folks who are educated and well to do, who are ashamed of their lower income brothers and sisters who may not have had the same opportunities that they’ve had. The ones who turn their noses up at less privileged Blacks with no provocation. The ones who talk about the ghetto without ever having been to the ghetto or lived there. The ones who laugh when some of us drink Kool-Aid. Hell, the ones who don’t realize that “red” is a flavor, and judge Black folks who know that it indeed is a flavor. Basically, Black folks who have the time to castigate other Black folks because they’ve made it and refuse to accept that making it where you’ve made it wasn’t solely on your own merit. Sometimes, folks believed in you enough to not let you fail. And it’s those folks that refuse to recognize or accept that, who are ashamed of lower income Black folks and their lot in life. Those Black folks piss me off too.

And there you have it. Black America’s secret shame is other Black people. From rich to poor, we are all ashamed of one another for reasons that are beyond me that will continue to keep us down. Sometimes we show out for white folks by showing them how comfortable they should be around us. We have a term for that…selling out. And sometimes we show out for white folks to show them that we don’t give a sh*t about them, except what we’re doing is furthering their own beliefs that Black folks have no damn sense anyway and are all useless. We have a term for this too…being a dbag. And they all lead to the same end…shame from some other member of the Black race.

And this is why we won’t make it as a people…and you know what…

…it’s a damn shame.

Ain’t it?

What say you?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. SUPER B.A.S.S. aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

For the DC heads, its time again for another edition of REMINISCE! at Liv Nightclub this Saturday, February 4th, 2012 from 930pm til 3am. It’s all 90s everything and anybody who has been will tell you this party is a motherf*cking monster. It’s FREE BEFORE 11PM WITH RSVP ($10 after) (click the link to RSVP), OPEN BAR FROM 930-1030PM (doors open earlier b/c people keep showing up MAD early) and no dress code. Supa Qool DJ Quartermaine on the 1s and 2s. Come on out and we’ll see you on Saturday night! Peep the FB event here!