today: 7.25.99
every day

oh dear jesus i had that dream again last night. the earth was ruled by a race of giant frogs. the frogs were silent, but diabolical. they kept humans as slaves and put them on display in enormous, unsanitary mayonnaise jars. the frogs would poke holes in the jars' lids and throw in a Dave Mathews Band CD and a fabric swatch from a Pottery Barn couch to simulate our natural environment. it's a terrible recurring dream and i always snap awake at the same moment -- one of the frogs has jammed a firecracker in my mouth and, as a crowd of other frogs nod approvingly, is poised to strike a match.

because of a diet of refined sugar (and spoiled meat), i have been incapable of focusing for longer than the 45 seconds it takes me to boot up my computer. by the time it finishes playing my Windows startup sound file -- the love theme from Ice Castles -- i have already wandered over to one of the 74 other rides and distractions in my apartment. the chief distraction -- ever since i broke my Sit n' Spin -- has been cable television. cable was recently installed in my apartment and while i am grateful that i have exercised a choice, i realize that cable has only opened up a new set of brain sores. i used to watch television rarely, selectively (i'd tape my "stories" during the afternoon, watch 'em at night with a big bowl of Columbo fro yo and just cry myself to sleep). within three days of having cable installed, i was already putting social plans on hold for Mama's Family.

tonight i watched the new chris rock special on hbo (for my international readers -- i'm huge in greenland! -- hbo is a premium cable channel with plenty of recent blockbuster hits, like Dr. Detroit, and occasional bits of amateur pornography disguised as "original programming". me likee.). i enjoyed the last chris rock special, Bring the Pain, but i think it put him in an unusual and, for him, undesired place in our collective consciousness. while it made him extremely famous -- something his role as Pooky in New Jack City failed to do -- it also made him the newest hero of nearly every latent racist in america (ever since Damn Yankees broke up, the latent racist has undoubtedly felt a bit lost). rock was really critical of the black community in that special and performed a monologue about the distinction between black people and niggers. it's funny and shocking, just like the rest of the show, but that black vs. nigger piece gave him instant whitey approval, i think. it's a pretty inside monologue and not meant to be the battle cry of confused racists, but unfortunately it's also a nearly perfect impetus for idiots to say, "see, i've been saying the same thing forever. i don't have a problem with black people - it's just those rascally niggers that get me all chafed. if a culturally relevant black man agrees with me, i can't be racist, right? i mean chris rock hates niggers, too, so i can't be so bad."

well, you can be. i didn't see the special when it first aired but i think 9 out of every 10 white folks who told me about Bring the Pain quoted almost the entire black vs. nigger material and, before i saw the special, i was under the impression that the entire hour was centered around this monologue because that's all that trickled down to me. whitey's crazy! (i even read a piece in a recent NY Times magazine -- yes, sometimes i read -- about racial profiling, in which one of the more openly racist cops would recite the black vs. nigger speech verbatim around the office.)

i think chris felt a little bristled by all of this, and rightfully so. so his new special is called Bigger and Blacker (it was originally going to be called That Shit Wasn't Meant for You, Whitey, So Quit Running Around Telling Everyone about my Blacks vs. Niggers Bit). and chris is down -- so down that he even filmed the special at the apollo theater in harlem, and made it general admission. a little self-conscious, perhaps, and it shows througout -- from the slick rick/doug e. fresh intro to the No Limits records titles sequence (which i originally thought was supposed to be really tongue-in-cheek, but i'm not so sure anymore).

what's most striking about Bigger and Blacker, however, is this: chris rock is showing signs of catching the weird disorder that has plagued black comedians throughout recent history -- he dresses crazy. i mean, really crazy. crazier than gallagher, who really just dresses like a mime with a moustache. just like eddie murphy in Raw -- red leather pants, fingerless leather gloves and a tight red leather jacket. just like martin lawrence in You So Crazy -- oversized leather button-up baseball jersey and wack leather pants. just like sinbad in, well, anything in which sinbad has ever appeared. in Bigger and Blacker, chris sports a metallic leather jacket, matching metallic leather pants and, if i'm not mistaken, shiny, pointy, metallic leather shoes. why, chris, why? maybe, like his black vs. nigger monologue, he's saying "this is not for you." or maybe, like martin lawrence's los angeles highway arrest (when he was found standing in the middle of the road, screaming the words to public enemy's "fight the power"), it's a cry for help.

prequel | sequel

all these words © 1999 todd levin.