I know I always talk about people watching TV and all that, but right now, I cannot stop watching Car Wash. (I guess that’s why I done watched it 150-200 times already.) Now I’m watching for all the details and trying to formulate some life lessons out of it. Knowing me, I’m probably gonna wind up writing something very long about that movie. Car Wash. Man. And I put this on the downlow in one of the comments somewhere, but I’m brave enough to say it out loud. That hooker…she was kinda cute. When she was writing her name on the mirror in lipstick, I was thinking…Hippo might have been stupid, but he wasn’t blind. (Even though it was probably the wig and the eyelashes.) Mona was the one, though. The intro shot of her walking across the street in that short waitress skirt, with the breeze lifting it ever so slightly… man! I’ve already said I’m a sucker for redbones and Mona was the truth. I knew that much when I was two. Although a little later, I kept thinking that she was the woman on the cover of the Ohio Players album, Honey. Actually, I was wishing that was her.

Not only am I watching Car Wash, like, 3 times a day, I’m about to start watching House Party too. I’ll probably break that one down at some point. House Party was tight. Robin Harris made the picture, though. It was funny and all that, but what kept it from being another one of those average teen pictures was the presence of a hard-working, no-nonsense parent. Kinda like if James Evans was the single parent of a son.

Naw, I’m serious. Ask me somethin.

Following a link from Booker Rising, I ran up on this article describing Bill Cosby’s critique of popular media as it pertains to language. Of all the things I talk about here, this is probably what I am most qualified to talk about. So you know I’ma break it down.

I think the key to the whole discussion is contained in this paragraph:

Arnold Rampersad, Cognizant Dean of Humanities, School of Humanities and Sciences at Stanford University and preeminent biographer of Langston Hughes, believes it is misguided to romanticize African American vernacular given the educational crisis facing today’s youth: “Common speech is indeed vigorous and creative, but typically only someone who is educated can see the degree of creativity in such speech, and then romanticize what is essentially monolingualism. And people who romanticize monolingualism of the type attacked by Bill Cosby (the type founded on ignorance and the active disdaining of books) need to have a monolingual social class in order to satisfy their romanticism. Mr. Cosby is absolutely correct that monolingualism of this type is a guarantee of economic and other forms of poverty — including intellectual and spiritual poverty.”

It’s all about style-shifting. When having discussions about this very subject, I’ve described language as a pair of shoes. You have to wear the right shoes to the right function. There are some cases where it’s fine to wear sneakers, and some times you have to wear shoes. Then in some other cases, only full-fledged dress shoes will suffice. Same thing goes linguistically. There are some cases when it’s just not appropriate to speak SBV (standard Black vernacular). That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with it, it just means that a person is crippled if ze can’t express zerself without it.

At the same time, I must say that I get annoyed when I hear people say stuff like “talking proper(ly).” What is that? Going back to my shoe metaphor, while a person is more likely to run into difficulty trying to wear sneakers than shoes, there are some places where sneakers are not just the norm, they’re the rule. Likewise, there are some (admittedly few) places where standard construction is contextually “improper.” Being that I’m not a linguistic prescriptivist, all talk is valid to me, as long as it gets the point across. Which brings me to something I’ve been meaning to write about for several weeks.

From Neil Steinberg in the Chicago Sun Times:

I don’t know about you, but sometimes letting fly with a good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon expletive is just what the doctor ordered. I am — and readers of the column, sadly, have no reason to know this — a big fan and user of obscenity, lacing my conversation with it all day long, only holding back, or trying to, before, say, my kids’ teachers and while on live radio.

Some say to do so is undignified. Some say it is unrefined. To me, we have this wonderful set of short, crisp, time-honored-yet-fresh words, and it is a shame not to use it, now and again, or even all the live-long day.

Unlike Mr. Steinberg, I don’t use obscenity regularly anymore, but there was a point when I was working on my Redd Foxx Junior License. When I was in high school, I went from one extreme to the other. There were some months when I would rather burn my lips than let a cuss word come out, and then there were some other months when I sounded like that Bernie Mac routine at the end of Kings of Comedy, saying the word “motherfucker” 32 times a minute.

Now a lot of people I know call cuss words “bad” or “vulgar.” Vulgar is probably more appropriate, since it literally means “of the people.” Like I said before, it all depends on the context, but for everyday usage, I think “shit” is much better than its latinate alter-ego, “feces/defecate.” If you step in a pile of doggie poo on the sidewalk, which one works better? “Shiiiit.” or “Feeceees.” Part of the value is that it’s monosyllabic, which makes it ideal as a reactive interjection. The other value is that “shit” can fill so many parts of speech. Just like Magic Johnson could play all five spots on the floor, “shit” can fill almost every part of speech.

Once in a discussion, somebody asked me whether I thought Jesus would’ve said “shit” - or whatever the equivalent was in his language. It’s hard to guess because the difference between “shit” and “feces” or “spit” and “expectorate” is purely class-based. The words we regard as “right” or “proper” only have that value because the people who used them were in control of the society at that time. Had the Anglo-Saxons been running things, “feces” would be the “bad” word. I know Jesus wouldn’t have cursed, but I don’t know that “shit” is really a curse. Saying that is not condemning anybody or anything. It’s just a word for a bodily function and the substance created by said function. So while I’m hesitant to say that he would have said it, I can’t say that he wouldn’t have. Anybody got any thoughts on the linguistic aspects of this question? (i.e., don’t give me “Jesus wouldn’t have said “shit” because “shit” is a bad word. The word’s connotative value is arbitrarily assigned, so at that time it may not have

Leonard Pitts has an interesting article on the lengths to which some people will go to be celebrities and what that means for the rest of us. Thankfully, I do not have an idiot box and even when I am around one, I don’t watch those surreality shows. My only guilty habit is getting my heart broken by the Eagles every January. (This year is gonna be different, though!)

(subscription required.)

Inspired by my man, DJ $ Bill (that was my great-grandfather’s nickname), I’m about this is a list of songs that inspired me to get a bass (along w/ a couple Russell Jones records I really like, just because.)

Sir Psycho Sexy - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Righteous Rhythm - Rose Royce
Hikky Burr - Quincy Jones
The Streetbeater - Quincy Jones
Old Man - Masta Killa feat. The RZA & Ol’ Dirty Bastard (samples Streetbeater)
Stranglehold - Ted Nugent
The Jam - Larry Graham & Graham Central Station
Call Him Up (Can’t Stop Praising His Name) - Keith Pringle
Barney Miller Theme - Allyn Ferguson
This House Is Smokin’ - BT Express
Skin Tight - Ohio Players
I Was Made To Love Her - Stevie Wonder
She’s The One - James Brown
Glide - Pleasure
Givin’ Up Food For Funk - The JBs
The Grunt - The JBs
Good Old Music - Funkadelic
The Old Landmark - Rev. Milton Brunson
Freddie’s Dead - Curtis Mayfield
Harlem World - Ol’ Dirty Bastard
Ashley’s Roachclip - The Soul Searchers
Scorpio - Dennis Coffey

DMX has lost his mind. I wish there had been a police helicopter filming this.

I didn’t put this one on the list, but of the versions I have, I think I like Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s rendition of Good Morning Heartache best. There’s a woman, Li’l Mo, singing the song, keeping it very close to Diana Ross’ interpretation. She’s the anchor. None of the rest would work if she weren’t there. Behind her is sparse instrumentalization (is that a word? if it wasn’t, it is now.) led by an electric bass and a drum. The woman and the bass kill it. There’s a muted sax, a guitar,and a keyboard in the background, but they’re way back. On top of this modern version of the standard goes Ol’ Dirty, doing his thing. If he ever took it seriously, I think Ol’ Dirty could probably carry a note. On this song, he plays it straight for about the first verse, then it’s on to extended off-key riffs, spoken ad-libs, and some mush-mouth sob talk. It works though. I have 6 versions of the song, but Ol’ Dirty is the only one who sounds like he’s absolutely torn up inside.

That, I think, was Ol’ Dirty’s greatest strength as an artist. I don’t know what he’s doing now that he’s on Rocafella, but that first album, Return to the 36 Chambers - The Dirty Version was tight for the same reason that this song is tight: he manages to be a fool within the structure of making a good record. At the beginning, I thought of Dirty as somebody who knew exactly how to play the fool without actually becoming one. Later, he just fell off and became one. Or maybe he was a fool that was playing like he was a dope artist. Either way, on Good Morning Heartache, he represented.

“I need a new nigga for this black cloud to follow
cuz while it’s over me it’s to dark to see tomorrow” - Nasir Jones

Afraid The Masquerade Is Over - David Porter
Otha Fish - The Pharcyde
I’m Goin’ Down - Rose Royce
Green Eyes - Erykah Badu
After The Love Has Gone - Earth Wind & Fire
Highways Of My Life - The Isley Brothers
Trying People - De La Soul
Woman - James Brown
By The Time I Get To Phoenix - Isaac Hayes
One Monkey Don’t Stop No Show - Joe Tex

*still don’t mean nothin’ but Butterscotch

Three times this week, I have seen it written that Black households average 70 hours of television per week. Seventy hours. That’s two full-time (35 hrs) jobs. That’s literally inconceivable to me. That’s 10 hours a day. In those households, the television must never go off. Or nobody goes to work or something. When is somebody gonna talk about that? Don’t protest that Black folks are underrepresented inside the box, protest that we’re overrepresented on the outside. Underrepresented in the library. Underrepresented in the book store. Underrepresented on the internet. Holla!

…

I’ve been privately ranting about this ever since the throwback craze started. (Well actually before, because I was shopping at Mitchell & Ness before 93% of these fools knew there was such a place. I used to get minor league ballcaps from there. My best cops were the Kissimmee Cobras and the Santa Fe Canaries. This was back around 95. Back then, I used to be on first-name basis with the proprietor.) How you gon’ wear a throwback Isaiah Thomas Indiana jersey with the name across the back? Indiana has never printed the players’ names across the back. That’s just disgusting and wrong. For $300+, accuracy should be paramount. And while I’m at it, why was I seein’ people in the projects with throwbacks? What? That jawn cost over 3 bills; you live on the dole and got one but I can’t afford one? I got a problem with that. That’s why I could never be a politician. First day out I’d write a bill killing cable for anybody on welfare or getting government subsidized housing. I’d give library cards all day, but no cable. Shoot, two throwbacks and that’s an entry-level Dell. Holla!

…

I watched Car Wash for the Nth time today (150th? 200th?) Because I haven’t seen Soul Plane, I really can’t comment on it, but I’d be willing to bet that it was nowhere as smart as Car Wash. But this is exactly what I’m talking about when I say that it’s a matter of taste. It would be very easy to write off Car Wash as a bunch of shuckin’ and jivin’, but I think there’s more to it than just that. To be sure, it’s mostly shuckin and jivin’, and it’s a precursor to some of these urban movies that are just really long music videos, but there are some very interesting characters in there; a couple of very interesting themes running through the goofines. One pet peeve of mine is that the DVD is not complete. If I didn’t know the movie as well as I do, I wouldn’t know this, but I’ve been watching Car Wash all my life. It’s the first movie I remember going to the movie to see. I was 2 when it came out. We went to the Mode theater in Joliet, IL. I will never forget that. (The other movie I saw at the Mode was the 1976 King Kong remake. I don’t really remember that too much, but my mom says that when Kong’s eyes peeked through the bushes, I let her know that it was time for me to go.) Anyway, the cashier chick, Marsha, meets this suave dude who says he’s gonna pick her up at the end of her shift. She’s all excited and whatnot, but when she comes out at the end, Mr. GQ Smooth has his woman in the front seat. Marsha’s date, sitting behind GQ Smooth, is a plug. They cut that scene out. It’s probably only 30 seconds, but it stands out to me like missing eye teeth.

One more note on Car Wash: the band, Rose Royce, that did the soundtrack for the movie, was put together by Norman Whitfield specifically to do the soundtrack. Before Car Wash, there was no Rose Royce. Considering the fact that they were able to come up with some moderate hits like “Wishing On A Star” and “Oooh Boy” later on, I think that was some pretty good band-making by Mr. Whitfield.

Somebody googled my spot looking for The Grunt JBs Arrangement. Because I know how difficult it can be to find this information, I’m gonna put it here.

The Grunt (parts 1 & 2) 3:30

Trumpets
Clayton “Chicken” Gunnels
Darryl “Hasaan” Jamison

Tenor Sax
Robert McCollough

Piano
Bobby Byrd

Guitar
Phelps “Catfish” Collins

Bass
William “Bootsy” Collins

Drums
Frank Waddy