Day 27: Turn On the Bright Lights (2002) by Interpol

Finally have caught back up with the blog. I figured I'd celebrate with a little bit of Interpol.


I'm not gonna lie. I only got this album because "PDA" is such a rocking track on Rock Band 2. For a few months, Tostada, Smash and the rest of our friends were addicted. Me and my boy Daryl would spend hours playing that game. I'm almost positive we've seen the sun rise a few times. 


Eventually we moved on to Gears of War, then Left 4 Dead 2, and then I went on my own with Bioshock 2 and Fallout 3. But I'm in a bit of a video game rut. I bought Batman: Arkham Asylum and haven't finished it yet.


But it seems that now I am addicted to sudoku. Sure, it's mainly a one person game (although, snuggling up to someone close and crunching numbers can be extremely sensual) but I love the challenge. I love logic games and fucking puzzles and brain teasers and riddles and...damn. 


Sorry, I think I'm getting a little carried away. Yes, I must confess, I am a bit nerdy. I like comic books and video games. I take movies too seriously. I plan to name my children after superheroes and, just to top it off, I like to solve math problems for fun. Every once in a while I just sit and unravel the quadratic formula. Basic shit, but I like to know I can still do it.


I'll tell you one thing, though. Nerdiness is trendy now. No one hesitates in claiming nerdiness as a badge of honor. It used to be that we thought this guy was the epitome of nerd. No one wanted to be this guy.



Sigh...another black man in jail.


Now, it seems that we're all nerds. We've reappropriated the term. Being nerdy is a good thing, since it's so distinctive.


Let's really think about what a nerd really is. Comic books? Shit, most of the guys I know like comic books or at least the heroes. Same goes for video games. And movies? Hmmmm...let's see...only everyone! Math may be my one true claim to true nerdiness, but then again, being smart is sexy. Just ask all those girls below, with their nerd glasses. 



I would bang all these nerds.


So if all these things describe nerds, then have we all really been nerds all along? Is an abnormal knowledge of pop culture and intelligence nerdy? Do our hobbies make us nerdy? It really just seems that we all just are claiming nerdiness to distinguish us from the millions other who claim nerdiness. 


If you really want someone who stands out for nerdiness, let me introduce you to the neckbeard.





I didn't know these guys existed before I was introduced to Somethingawful.com. And...ho...ly...shit. You wanna talk about nerd? These guys are the cream of the crop of nerdiness. Ol' great neckbeard...we bow to you.


So...yeah. 


Quite honestly, I really have no idea where I'm going with this. This has been a post of random tangents. I guess what I'm really trying to say is that we're all a little nerdy, but these guys are the epitome of nerdiness. We're all just wanna bes and these guy are the rock stars. Wear that with pride, good sir. You are what we all wish to be.


I don't know how I ended up talking about this, let alone filling a whole post about nerds and the act of being nerdy. I'll end this conversation before it spirals out of control with this picture of a hot girl.





Peace bruthas and sistas!

Comic Book Review: The Dark Knight Returns (February 1986 - June 1986)

Writer(s): Frank Miller
Artist(s): Frank Miller
Publisher: DC Comics


General Summary
The story begins in a Gotham City where Batman is only a memory. He had retired 10 years prior to the beginning of this story and it's implied that he has finally been able to lock up most of his famous villains. Bruce Wayne and most of famous allies are forced to retire by the government, with the exception of Superman, who now works for Ronald Reagan. With the lack of heroes patrolling the streets and most the original villains incarcerated, there arises a new form of villain, more ruthless and bloodthirsty than before: The Mutants. Led by the aptly named Mutant Leader, they begin a crime spree that challenges to send Gotham City in chaos. 


Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne is caught in an identity crisis, the grips of his former persona tightening on his weakening will. A man of over 50 years of age, he knows he is no longer at his former peak of human conditioning. Nonetheless, his obsession finally takes over him, and he dons the cowl once more. But now, he realizes that he must match the ruthlessness of this new brand of criminal. 


Recruiting the help of a young girl named Carrie Kelly to become the new Robin and his trusty butler, Alfred Pennyworth, Batman must now use his cunning and intelligence over brute force to overcome this new powerful foe. Add that to the fact that Two-Face and Joker have come out of their comatose states, and we have a Batman who has never faced such odds. 


The story takes place during the 1980s in the midst of growing tensions during the Cold War. Batman battles to protect his city, but might lose to the feuding going on between the Russians and the Americans. He must battle public scrutiny and the government, leading to an eventual showdown with his former partner Superman. A battle between two of the world's greatest hero's  commences, the results which dictate the future of Gotham City.


What I Liked About It
I bought this book while traveling through Utah during one of my summer camp adventures. Up to that point, my only interaction with the book was through a passing reference in a Wizard Magazine where SPOILER ALERT!: Batman beats the shit out of Superman and dies almost immediately afterwards. 


Besides that small instance, I really had very little experience with the writing style of Frank Miller. Miller popularized what was known as the grim and gritty style of comic books. This was great, since it took comic books away from the childlike joke they once were. But then you have such gems such as the garbage Rob Liefeld made. 


Now, usually, I compare the work of Frank Miller to that of Quentin Tarantino's, in which they both share an affinity for ninjas, ultra-violence, and the femme fatale (but in most cases, hookers). Now, this could get repetitive at times, but when Frank Miller came out with this little nugget of greatness, it was refreshing. I loved the artwork, which was chaotic and schizophrenic at times and polished and clean at other times, but it always seemed to match the mood of the story. Also, just the apocalyptic, no-holds bar setting is a nice change of pace.


But the best part of the story is the in depth analysis of Batman's psyche. Batman, by most definitions, would be considered crazy to do what he does. But no one has seemed to question this until Frank Miller. Now we get to see whether he is truly a noble man, or just a man with an itch he can't seem to scratch. Is he fighting this holy war for us, or to relieve himself of demons he can't overcome? And is he justified? Does he really have the right to decide what's best for us? This a theme that ran rampant in the 1980's, where superheroes seem only to be templates for the Man.


Recommendations
Fans of Frank Miller, this is a must. It is his best superhero work, and a classic Batman story. Even the cartoon remade one of its most famous scenes pretty accurately, even down to the character design, some of the lines, and the way they pose the characters.





I would also recommend this to any fans of superhero history. By that I mean those that love to go back and reread the "classics," which would include stories as The Killing Joke, Secret Wars, etc. Just a good history lesson in the progression of the American superhero throughout the years.


Lastly, I would recommend this to fans of Batman. I love Batman, and I think for my status as a Batmanophile to continue, I have to have read this story. It's just a good book with some deeper ideas placed throughout. 

Day 26: Shine Through (2006) by Aloe Blacc, Supply and Demand (2006) by Amos Lee, and Shattered Soul on a Pastel Sky (2007) by Shin-ski

Triple album time! I've really been lagging it on writing the posts recently, although I have kept up with the music. Anyhow, I gotta do one more today and I'll be all caught up again. Let us begin...

Here's a random thought to start off with. In high school, my econ teacher was this fat bastard named Mr. Cesar Fernandez, an all-around douche who coached the girl's high school basketball team. He really hated progressive ideals, liberals, and most of the guys. His likes were food, Reagan, and high school female basketball players. 


So why do I mention this guy? Listening to the Aloe Blacc reminded me of something. We once discussed the consumer's choices in products (I don't remember the technical name, but I blame this on his incompetence as a teacher). He said that he listened to some crappy band he loved but would never go to their shows because he felt live-performances were always distorted and not the same as the album. 


The fucker's now facing statutory rape charges. 





Thanks for destroying the last bit of respect I had for my high school.


Hahaha...but what I really wanted to talk about was live performances!!! Sorry, I know this blog is an emotional roller coaster. I have an uncanny way of segueing from horrible, life destroying topics to what I really want to discuss.


But again, I'm going off topic. The only reason that I want to discuss live performances is because I actually saw Aloe Blacc live at UCI during the recent Urban Arts Festival 2010. Him, Supernatural, and People Under The Stairs were there, although it was supposed to be Zion I. Still, it was a nice surprise.


Now, I don't think you can generalize live shows as all being bad. As a matter of fact, in the last 4 years of my life I've gone to more shows then the rest of my life. The list includes:

• Immortal Technique at the We The People Festival
• De La Soul at the Galaxy Theatre
• Native Guns at UCI
• Steve Vai at The Grove of Anaheim
• Del da Funkee Homosapien at the Roxy
• Freddy and Francine at The Hotel Cafe
• And, as mentioned before, Aloe Blacc, Supernatural and People Under The Stairs at the Urban Arts Festival

I think that might be it. Now, I know that list isn't as long as other people I know, but I think it's enough to decide that sometimes (although not always) live performances are better than the albums. I would say that this would be the case in Aloe Blacc's case.

Now, this isn't a knock on the album. It's got some good songs on it, including a pretty dope Spanish rendition of John Legend's "Ordinary People." As a matter of fact, he has a lot of Spanish songs on the album which make you wanna get up and dance. Pretty interesting album.

But his strength, as I could see, was in his live performances. He ripped it that night, as did Supernatural. I can't say that People Under The Stairs had the same luck. Maybe this is a result of the fact that Supernatural killed it right before they performed and the let down of not having Zion I. 

Still, live performances can't all be placed in the same breath since they're such individual acts. And by individual, I mean separate from other performances. But for the most part, everyone I've seen live has killed it. The passion of making and playing music for a crowd is always appreciated by the V. 

Anyhow, I also listened to Amos Lee and Shin-ski. I began to listen to Amos Lee after hearing a mixtape from my buddy Josh from camp. He had a pretty dope taste in music, so I decided to steal it. Shin-ski was recommended to me by Rex. If you listen to Shin-ski's album, check out "Koyoi" ft. Apani B. Fly. Sick as female emcee, and beautiful song overall.

Anyhow, I wish I could discuss more, but I probably should go do something productive. 

Peace, bruthas and sistas!

Day 25: The Carnival (1997) by Wyclef Jean and Ready to Die (1994) by Notorious B.I.G.

So today I have to do a double since I've fell behind yesterday. I actually had finished Wyclef Jean already, but I was just too tired to write anything. 


10:35 PM
Okay, so I've avoided this again for the last two days. I just haven't found an opportunity to really sit down and write. Lakers, basketball, work and school. Also lots and lots of studying. Plus a much delayed drug test that I should've taken last week. Add that up to just the right mixture of laziness and you have my current relationship with my blog. 


Anyhow, I was able to listen to these good albums, but at the same time, I'm too tired to really talk about them. I just played a game of 21 with Tostada to vent a bit after that horrible loss in game 4 of the Western Conference Finals. And I immediately went and got my ass handed to me by Tostada himself. Shit! I really got cut back on the stoges.





But what can I really say about these albums that hasn't been said anyways? Everybody knows that Biggie was good. I would even say better than Tupac. All my West Coast brethren are going to skewer me for this statement, but it's true. In the whole Biggie vs. Tupac argument, I have to side with my man Big Poppa. In my opinion, Biggie was a way better rapper than Tupac. And he only had two albums out! But like I said, there's not really much I can add to this argument. 


As for Wyclef Jean, he's got a pretty good mix of hip hop and singing goin. And some of it is in Creole. I only know it's Creole because some of the boys I worked with at the summer camp spoke Creole, and I would constantly make them say Creole phrases. 


I know. That's fucked up. It's like someone telling me to translate random phrases to Spanish just 'cause it sounds nice to their ears. But they were cool about it. It's not like I'm gonna go to a random person and hope they speak Creole for my enjoyment. 


But yeah, both these albums are sick.


I just wanted to comment on one aspect of Biggie's album. I read this (and I will constantly continue to comment on this since it's one of the subjects in my Hip Hop Class, that has the dopest professor) in one of my articles, based on one of my favorite songs, "Suicidal Thoughts." The article stated that the album is a reflection of the black male condition in the ghetto: it is at the same time a boastful anthem of the life of a drug dealer, mafioso, gangster, yet at the same time, he's self aware of his endless struggle, incapable of leaving the condition that he was born into. 


His birth is actually the first song. You can hear him coming into this world, with "Superfly" by Curtis Mayfield playing in the background, but this beautiful, triumphant moment is broken by the sound of his parents fighting, his father threatening to beat his mother. Throughout the album, you have moments where he reflects on his position, wishing death in songs like "Everyday Struggle" where he exclaims "I don't wanna live no more/sometimes I hear death knockin at my front door." He celebrates coming up in "Juicy," reflects on his constant struggles with the law in "Gimme the Loot," and his relationships with women throughout the whole album. But in the end, it's too much, calls his friend and shoots himself in "Suicidal Thoughts." 


I'm not saying this is the path of all people in the ghetto, but I am saying this album can be taken as a metaphor for the conditions many people (especially those of color) suffer from: the inability to cope with the realities of poverty and discrimination. In this case, Biggie really had some issues with himself that he probably exorcised through his art. Sadly, we would never see his evolution as an artist since he was taken from us. Who knows? He might have been able to figure things out. 


But anyhow, I just thought that insight was beautiful. I think it's something I've had to deal with as well, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. 


Anyhow, I'm writing this as I watch "Being John Malkovich," which has some hilariously witty parts. But that'll be for another day. 



Witty muthafucker.


Peace, bruthas and sistas!

Day 24: Food & Liquor (2006) by Lupe Fiasco

For having such a huge music collection, I've only done one hip hop album, which was Mos Def's "The Ecstatic." I figured I'd add one more to the collection since I'm a pretty big hip hop head. But I guess a little background on my experience with music is needed to better understand how I feel about this album. 


My first real introduction to music was when I was in 6th grade. Coming from a religious family, my parents wouldn't allow me to listen to any music that wasn't Christian. Up to that point, I had little knowledge of any secular music. I didn't even know who Tupac was when I heard he died! Crazy, huh?


But when I got to 6th grade, I got my first taste of hip hop (and r&b, to an extent) riding the bus every morning and evening. The bus driver would tune to Power 106, and I would listen to the songs until my stop came by, which was always the last stop. But I fell in love with it. I began to listen to music behind my parents' back, reciting songs and at points trying to come up with songs of my own. I sometimes stayed up til 2 or 3 in the morning listening to music on my clock radio. It was a whole new world for me.


That went on until high school. By that point, I began to learn how to play guitar. For those few years, I kind of dismissed hip hop as being crude, materialistic, and completely watered down. I had very few hip hop acts in my collection. In my opinion, rock music was the best music, and hip hop was just a sad excuse for taking advantage of people's ignorance. You also didn't have to be talented to listen to or to make hip hop. I was, at best, an elitist, hating on brothers and sisters who made some cash on their fame. 


It took my boy Illyz AKA John Cabiles to really reintroduce me back to hip hop. Hahaha...I remember how he got me thinking, although I may not remember the exact words. It was my first time living with Illyz. We were 19 and I was discussing the few hip hop artists that I supported at the time, including Kanye West, claiming that he was the exception to the rule of violence and misogyny within hip hop. Illyz began to discuss the artists that got no support, including one of the hip hop groups that I fell in love with known as Binary Star. He discussed the different types of rhymes that you can find by searching for music. 


Well, if I was an elitist before, then I Super-Saiyaned to an ultra elitist. Now, it was all about the "underground." Fuck the "mainstream." I was different and I was cool for it. Which is ironic, because people feel superior to others for not listening to their obscure music. But in reality, it's like being at a party where you're the only guest. No one else is gonna care.



Elitist super-saiyan: taking about 4 episodes to finish transformation. 


Anyways, it wasn't 'til I lived with my boy Rex that I actually began to listen to music from a different point of view. Living with Rex was like having a DJ in your house. Every day it was some new form of music (mostly hip hop, but he still had a diverse taste in music). Maybe it was because he was musician that he was able to understand the beauty of music in all it's different forms. Either way, I was inspired. It was actually because of him that I began this little mission.


There is one last dude that I have to bring up. And this will bring it full circle. My boy Ryan, one of the guys I met while working Camp Paintrock, was a living archive of black music. At that point, I still hated on mainstream hip hop. But then Ryan called me over one day and put his headphones on my head. On it was playing Lupe Fiasco's "American Terrorist." Holy shit, it blew my mind! It was honest. It was raw. And it spoke to me. I promised I would get that album one way or another. 


And this is where I'm at with my relation to music. It took me a while in my journey, but I got to a point where I realized: why hate? Music is subjective. That which I think is dope may not be dope to someone else. And why not look at music from a someone else's perspective? You may find that you like it. 


Now I love music. I love to listen to it, I love to create it, I love to talk about it. I want to dance to it, I want to sing at the top of my lungs, I want to smash guitars and just feel the energy rush through my soul. I just want music.

If Snoop says so...

I'm still a bit of a hater, no lie. But I'm more aware of it. I try to give all music a chance. There's still music I don't like, but hey, not everything is my cup of tea. But sometimes you can find gems like this album. This album is personal, enlightening, funky, and just straight good. And I just needed to be more open with myself to truly appreciate it.


It took a lot of growing up to begin to think of music in different terms, but a few of my boys definitely had to nudge me towards the edge. So thanks to my boy Illyz for reintroducing to a genre of music that I love dearly, Rex for helping me think differently about music in general, and Ryan for showing me that mainstream music can be good music. You guys were definitely catalyst in my musical journey.


Anyhow, love all music, and love each other. I'll see you on the other side.


Peace, bruthas and sistas.

Day 23: Buena Vista Social Club (1997) by Buena Vista Social Club

6:00 PM

So I'm taking a Spanish class this quarter that focuses on Latin American film. The professor is pretty chill, although sometimes he says some thing that are straight out of left field. "So this film is an example of neorealism that was popularized by Italian filmmakers, focusing on everyday aspects of life, like work, school and THE AMERICAN PIG MUST DIE!" Now imagine that being said in Spanish. 

Of course, I'm exaggerating just a bit. Just a little. But anyways, obviously, we must watch lots of Latin American films, all in Spanish. Tonight, I have to go to a screening of a film called "Harvest of Loneliness: The Bracero Program." From the little that I know, that shit was fucked up.

9:11 PM

Yeah...that shit was fucked up. I got out of the screening about 1 hour ago, and went to the library. But the whole time that I walked up Ring Road, I couldn't help but become distressed. In this film, I saw faces that looked like mine, except the joy had been beaten out of them. You can see how ashamed they were. And I feel ashamed. Agricultural industries took advantage of these men and their dreams. They were promised 10 times what they could make in their countries, only to have their overlords immediately go back on their word while working in the U.S. It pains me to see these men, now old men and with grandchildren, to break down at the mere thought of the hardships they had to endure. Leaving their families to hopefully send money home, only for them to have to spend their 15 dollars a week of money on food, food that was promised to them in a contract that was never upheld. In the end, many were left with only pennies to their name. 

Let's not forget the hardship that they faced in actually getting to the U.S. Many had to traverse to shipping stations, only to be wrangled like cattle.

IF chosen, they were packed into trains, where they would travel whole nights without sleep. Many couldn't find places to use the bathroom, so they had to do it where they were. It's reminiscent of the Middle Passage, where stolen Africans were forced to endure horrible conditions for months. In this sense, these laborers were lucky. But any injustice is still enough to bring a man to tears.

Once arriving, these men were to endure further dehumanizing examinations, many to only be told they were not good enough to work and sent home. Those that stayed were stripped naked and forced to be "decontaminated." This decontamination included being sprayed from head to toe in DDT. Yeah, that DDT. The insecticide that we learned is a possible carcinogen and a leading cause of the decreasing numbers in bald eagle populations. These poor men had it sprayed in their faces so as to not contaminate Americans. 

Once the decontamination phase is over, these Mexican migrants were given one of two shifts: 5AM to 5PM or 5PM to 5AM. They were denied water until they finished their work, many suffering from extreme dehydration. When not at work, up to 2000 men were crammed in small living quarters, whose temperatures would reach 120 during the summer. Many died, and no retributions were given to their families. Those that didn't die were left sick or injured for the rest of their lives.

This had deep effects on their families, many who had small children who could not see their fathers. Wives suffered, not having enough to spend on their children, falling into deep debt. And just the pain of being away from a loved one was unbearable. Seeing one of the wives of a bracero break down in front of the camera almost brought me to tears, reminding me of my own mother.

At first, listening to Buena Vista Social Club, a Cuban album, was a mere joke as to get me in the "mood" to see a movie about Latinos. But it's no longer a joke. It truly pains me to see my people and people of color from all over the globe being exploited by the greedy and corrupt. People always tell me I should be grateful that I have the opportunity that I have to study and be happy in this country. Many people have told me "You're an American. You enjoy these liberties. Stop bitching about it." 

I am grateful to have this opportunity. But at what cost did I get this opportunity? How many lives had to be destroyed for me to live in this land of milk and honey? How do you expect me to ignore the truth and not get angry? 

The sad thing is that we're so comfortable we don't give it a second thought. It's in the past; why should it concern me? But when you think that people to this day are being exploited and civil liberties are being abused in the name of "freedom," it's hard to ignore.

I found myself praying for the first time since my sister was in the hospital. I don't know to who or what, but I could only ask: why? Maybe the answer won't come from the heavens, but I know the answer is in the hearts of good men and women that see the truth of the matter.

That'll be all for tonight. I hope that maybe I have enlightened you in some sense. But as always, enlighten yourselves.

Nothing but love, as always.

Peace bruthas and sistas...

Day 22: The Information (2006) by Beck

Well fuckadoodle doo! This shit is annoying. I had a whole fucking post done, ready to be published, and BAM! Fucking blogspot says that there's conflicting editing going on at the same time, but instead of saving it, it just fucking goes and erases my post! Shit!


So lemme briefly summarize what I wanted to talk about. Also, I have some nifty pictures. Let's see...

• White people are my friends, although I may hate on them...a lot. Listening to Beck is my way of making it up to you.

• The Lakers won, so I shall celebrate by saying LAKERS!

• I think I have the dopest professor, Sohail Daulatzai. 

• Beck is all over the place. In a good way. 

• I want the kids at the camp to sing the phrase "One by one, I'll knock you out" from the song "Cellphone's Dead." Hopefully, Beck can make it out.

• I'm proud of my little brother for going out of his comfort zone and busting a flow with me. 

Let's see...yup. That's basically it. The rest of the sentences were just filler, anyways. But seriously...fuck!

Alright, bruthas and sistas. Sorry for cutting this short, but I really should get to sleep. If I even try to remember whatever nonsense was in the post that was meant to be, I'd probably go insane. In the meantime, hold tight, and tomorrow I promise I'll bring it better. 

Peace, bruthas and sistas!

P.S. With my last sentence, I curse Blogspot!!!

Comic Book Review: Miracleman Issue #1 (March 1982) to Issue #19 (November 1990)

Writer(s): Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman

Artist(s): Garry Leach, Alan Davis, Mark Buckingham

General Summary

Michael Moran is an everyday working class husband, unspectacular in every sense of the word. He's fat, getting old, and incapable of having a child with his wife. He's a journalist plagued by migraines and dreams of flying, only to wake up every night to reality of life. He is haunted by images he cannot understand, but most of all, by a word that he cannot remember.

One day, while on assignment at a nuclear power plant, the crowd of people he is within is attacked by masked men with machine guns. Suddenly, suffering from an intense migraine that debilitates him, he is dragged by the men, only to pass a sign. On the sign, he reads the word "atomic." Only he sees it upside down. Cimota...Kimota. Suddenly, it rushes back to him. He whispers the word, and with a flash of lightning, he becomes Miracleman!

Blessed with flight, super speed, super strength and invulnerability, he is the living incarnation of the superman. He is perfect, all that Moran wasn't. Things seem to finally be looking up.

This, however, is when his problems begin. The world's "first" superhero is not alone. He finds a formidable and terrifying enemy in his former sidekick, Kid Miracleman, whose alter ego has become more powerful as a result of never having reverted back to his secret identity of the young Johnny Bates. Also, as Moran continues to unearth his past, he begins to realize that his comical and fantastic origins were lies, discovering that the truth is more disturbing and chilling than expected. Men and former friends from his past begin to reappear left and right, and his marriage begins to strain from the weight of Miracleman. Add that to a growing inferiority complex, and we have a man who's blessings have begun to look more like curses.

But like any great hero, he gradually overcomes these obstacles one by one, but not without great sacrifice. After one final horrifying battle with Kid Miracleman, we see not the death of a man, but the birth of a god.

What I Liked About It:

So I was debating as to which comic I should start my comic book guide with. I consulted with my friends, all of which gave me sound advice, but I decided to start off with the most recent book that I have read. Technically, I am still reading it, but I've read enough to be able to give my critique on it. But I've also decided to start off with this book to prove a point: the superhero genre can be amazingly deep with social critiques and themes.

And this book is incredibly dense. You can read issue 1 and not realize that it's only one issue. Sometimes it feels that a whole story arc can play itself out in just one issue. In the first issue, we are presented with a backstory in the form of a 1950s-styled comic, an reintroduction of Miracleman (like Captain America, he had been forgotten), a possible origin story and the first major villain in Kid Miracleman.

Alan Moore writes in the manner that Charlie Kaufman wrote his movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind": sometimes dialogue and scenes don't make sense in the beginning, but the twists and turns start to make sense as you finish the issue. There were many nights where I could barely get passed an issue because I had to reread pages. I could barely get passed the first three issues for almost a week.

This, however, isn't necessarily bad. Just 'cause you have some critical analysis in a comic book doesn't mean it's boring. On the contrary, the amount of analyzing provides with some real questions about life. What is power? Who has it? Would one really be better if one were powerful? Or is this just a reflection of one's own self-worth?

The story ends with an examination of power. Even if intended for "good," is it justified?

Spoiler alert: Kid Miracleman has also become one of my favorite supervillains. Ever. Period. He is batshit crazy. And when I mean crazy, I mean way crazier than the Joker, the supervillain standard for insanity. Let's put it this way. While waiting for Miracleman to confront him, he passes the time by destroying a city and killing and mutilating all its inhabitants. And I do mean everyone: men, women, children, the elderly. Everyone. In one scene, he spares a woman, claiming that she was the only one to be kind to him. One panel later, he reappears and pounds her head in, saying, "I'm sorry. They'd say I was going soft, wouldn't they?" Holy shit.

Recommendations:

I would recommend this to fans of Alan Moore. And by that, I don't mean fans of Watchmen. I don't mean this as a condescending remark. Watchmen is by far Alan Moore's greatest work, his magnum opus, but it's also one of his easiest to read. If you've read his other works like V for Vendetta, Tom Strong or even Swamp Thing, you'll find that this man loves to place multiple layers in all his words and dialogue. His stories jump from one perspective, time period, and theme to another, which can make it hard to focus. Later in the series, it passes off to Neil Gaiman, which is a great writer himself, and the stories become more focused but broad in scope, focusing on not just Miracleman but everyone impacted by his appearance.

I wouldn't recommend this book if you're just looking for a fun superhero story. I highlight "just" because this is a fun superhero comic book, but it's also quite depressing and scary at times and extremely thought-provoking. Also, the artwork isn't as fun as, say, Todd MacFarlane's run on Spider-man. It's still beautifully drawn, but not quite as dynamic, focusing on a more realistic take of the superhero.

Day 21: Lay It Down (2008) by Al Green

I don't know if you caught the pattern yet, but I'm really digging Al Green right now. So far I've done his greatest hits and "Call Me." This is the last album I have of his, which I recently downloaded. It's also his most recent release. I saw that one of his producers was ?uestlove from The Roots. Hmmm, I said. I'm intrigued. But this will be the last one since I really should move on to other artists. I think in the future, I'm gonna do whole weeks dedicated to certain artists (Best of Barenaked Ladies week...we'll see). But that's for the future to decide.

It must suck for established artists to create new fanbases. They either have to change their whole style up and hope to not alienate older fans or keep coming out with the same shit they have been doing and hope their fans aren't slowly dying of old age. But every once in a while, just the right mix happens.

Okay, I know it seems like I've been straddling Al Green the last couple of days, but I really can't say anything bad about this guy. I love the fact that he has embraced youthful producers like ?uestlove and James Poyser. I also love that he shows mad love to younger cats like John Legend, Anthony Thompson and Corrine Bailey Rae. But what I love most is that he stays true to himself. He's not trying to be Justin Timberlake or R. Kelly or Chris Brown. He can only be Al Green, and he does it with grace and style like no other.

Don't be like this guy.

Or this guy.

Now, like I said, what he does best in this song is make an album with that signature Al Green sound but without sounding stale. Once in a while, you can hear ?uestlove's influence in the hardness of the drums, that boom boom bap that makes you bob your head.

My whole take on Al Green: can't go wrong with a legend. Sometimes there's artists that dog the new school method of thinking, but when an older cat embraces the youth, it's like going to the playground when you were little with your pops and playing ball with you, telling you bout back in the day, and listening to you rattle off about all the different colors in the Crayola box. Yeah, sometimes young people can seem dumb, but how can you not love them. They're so full of energy, willing to take what you teach them and applying it to their own style. Remember, at one time you were that kid sticking crayons up your nose.

Dopest kid I know right now.

So next time younger person annoys the shit out of you, just laugh it off. Gotta remember that you can't make an omelet without breakin a few eggs. Hey, soon, you'll be breaking a few hips and other important bones too. Hahaha...

Nothing but love over here.

Peace, bruthas and sistas!

Day 20: As I Am (2007) by Alicia Keys

I just somewhat challenged my Professor of Hip Hop Culture to a rap battle. Hahaha...not really. Someone suggested that for extra credit we should write a flow. He jokingly said that he finds that scary since it's hard to listen to bad rhymes. I yelled out, "How do you know we're bad?" The class laughed and kinda was like "oh snaps!" Hahaha...but again, not really.

Since this is my blog and my blog only, maybe I'll just write down my notes for class for today. I know this probably has nothing to do with Alicia Keys' album "As I Am," but fuck it. I could do whatever I want.

Hahaha...naw. I'm just playin. As much as I love hip hop and the politics of hip hop, I gotta get out of that mind set sometimes.

Aight, the last couple posts have been a bit political in nature. Tonight, I'm gonna do a little self-indulging.

First off, I didn't expect what I got from this album. I'm a huge fan of soul and r&b, but Alicia Keys just hasn't been bringin it for me the last couple of years. She had some really great early singles like "Fallin'," "A Woman's Worth," "You Don't Know My Name," and "Diary." And let's not forget "If I Aint Got You." But her last few singles were a bit bleh to me. A little more poppy, a little less soul.

So I have really been putting off listening to this album for a while. I believe I got this album from my buddy Daryl when he was giving me his collection of albums about two years ago or so. It was part of the package including T.I., some Daft Punk, Radiohead and Jay-Jay Johanson. I've listened to just about every other album, but this is the last one that I've taken time to listen to.

And damn. She surprised me. There are some pretty soulful songs in this album. Songs like "Where Do We Go From Here" and "Wreckless Love" made it easier to listen to songs like "No One." Like my girl Linda "Smash" from Culinary Combat said to me, the album is better than its singles.

Speaking of Smash, we been jammin together for the last few months, along with Tostada on rhythm guitar and Marino on drums. She mad kills it when we jam. Great singing voice. I play lead guitar, although I'm probably gonna move to bass. I think that's where my skill will be best used. Anyhow, together we are SOLO ENSEMBLE (shameless plug). All we're doing is covers for now, but once we get more accustomed to playing together, we'll come out with original stuff. Now if only we can get my girl Jean to come out. You remember her? The one that almost fought Humpty Dumpty in the first post. Yeah, she can fill it in with the keys.

Imagine this in a mini skirt.

Anyhow that is all for today. I'm dead tired and I gots to go teach some kids to read in the mornin. Join me tomorrow when I do another Al Green album, Lay It Down.

Peace, bruthas and sistas!

Day 19: The Ecstatic (2009) by Mos Def

Okay, this post had to be done a little earlier for two reasons. One, I just finished listening to The Ecstatic while studying for my Hip Hop Culture Class. Two, because I just finished reading a paper about a topic that has always made me reflect on myself and the state of the world, that is, misogyny and homophobia in hip hop.

I have to start by saying that I love Mos Def. He is and will forever be one of my favorite emcees. I think this album is his best since Black on Both Sides, maybe even better than that one. But for all the good that Mos talks of in his songs, there are some things that, as I've explained to many of my friends, truly depress me. His stance on homosexuality is one of them. Lyrics such as:

"Cats who claimin' they hard be mad fag/ so I run through 'em like flood water through sandbags"

-Re-Definition, off of "Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star"

He aint the only one. Eminem (another emcee that I completely admire for his skill) has made a career as one of the most gifted lyricists through his excessive use of the word "fag." 50 Cent had this to say in an interview with Playboy:

"I ain't into faggots. I don't like gay people around me, because I'm not comfortable with what their thoughts are. It's OK to write that I'm prejudiced. This is as honest as I could possibly be with you…But women who like women, that's cool."

Sigh...it saddens me. I'll give it to Kanye, who openly brings the question of homosexuality and hip hop to the forefront. Other rappers blatantly ignore it. When emcees Busta Rhymes, Mos Def, an Talib Kweli were confronted with the question of homosexuality in the documentary "Hip Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes," Busta Rhymes said

"I can't partake in that conversation. That homo shit? I can't talk to you about that. I ain't trying to offend nobody, but what I represent culturally doesn't condone it."

I get it. Your religion doesn't approve of homosexuality. It's part of who you are. I get that. But Christianity (I'm sure Busta is Muslim, but for the sake of argument) disapproved of mixing different fabrics together. So all those Christians out there who are wearing 60% polyester and 40% cotton, you are blatantly sinning. Women who were menstruating had to leave their homes for a week straight. Race mixing was also thought of as sinful as late as this past century. And don't say I don't know the Bible. I've read it 3 times, front to back.

In this sense, at least Talib confronted the question. Mos and Busta left the studio almost immediately. So mad love to Talib. His name is truly in the middle of equality.

Let's not forget our women. I don't think I really have to say it, but hip hop has become an arena where we openly degrade our women. Bitches and hos are the norm. We praise a woman for being light-skinned and dog them for having "nappy" hair. Women lose any sense of identity in our culture, being referred to by asses and tits. Now, some emcees do this more often than others. In this sense, Mos is progressive with such songs as "Brown Skinned Lady." But it's come to a point where I can't ignore it. I've heard too many beautiful women openly say they didn't feel beautiful. Well, that's bullshit. All women are beautiful. Doesn't matter what shape, size, or color, I'm here to tell you that you are beautiful. It is in your so called imperfections that you stand out. Fuck it. We can be perfectly imperfect together.

I want to make it clear that hip hop is NOT the only perpetrator, nor does it create the conditions for these biases to reproduce. No, hip hop is only merely a reflection of this American hyper-masculinity. We idolize the strong, unyielding man who shows no emotion. Vulnerability is despised and we refuse to seek assistance. As a result, homosexuals, lesbians and women are thought of as weak if they don't conform to this white, heterosexual male standard. As a result, even men suffer.

Look, I'm not saying that men should cry at every sunset, we are all homosexuals, and we should bow to everything that women want. I'm not even saying that I'm exempt of this criticism, cause I'm not. I'm also guilty of homophobia, misogyny, and even racism. What I'm saying is that by portraying men and women in these limiting terms, in an "us vs. them" dichotomy, we are neglecting that which makes the world and our species so diverse. I am a man, but I am more than a man as well. We are humans, and that encompasses all aspects of being human.

Vulnerability is not this guy although it can be.

I don't mean to be preachy. It's just something that I've always thought was important to discuss. Anytime I try to have this discussion with many of my male friends, I almost immediately get called a pussy, fag, bitch, homo, etc. I get accused of homosexuality as if it were something negative. Fuck it. Call me gay. I rather be gay than ignorant. I rather be compared to a female than to be insensitive. I know who I am. Maybe it's time we all took a look in the mirror. Like Dr. King said, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

Anyhow, nothing but love to all the children of the world. I hope you can feel me on this.

Peace, bruthas and sistas.

Day 19: Al Green's Greatest Hits (1975) by Al Green

So I been in an Al Green mood the last two days. I been bumping him before I go to sleep, while at work, driving, etc., etc. But how can I not be? How can you deny the man above?

In reality, this is partly due to the fact that I listen to an album based on the order that I have it in my Itunes. At the same time, once I start playin his albums, I can't stop. This guy is just too good. And to listen to a Greatest Hits album by this guy? Ho...ly...shenanigans.

On the real, I feel it's hard to listen to a greatest hits collection. It's always some aging band, on the downslope of their career, now amassing their singles to resell them to us. The singles, for the most part, were the only "good" songs on their respective albums. Sometimes they add a new song, but it's never as good as the originals. It's all marketing.

Maybe I'm being a little harsh. Not all bands that release a greatest hits collection are bad, nor are the songs the only good songs on their original albums. But every once in a while, we get gems like this:

Or:

(On a side note: if you play guitar, play the notes in the chorus of "Higher." Now change the lyrics to "Hero" by The Foo Fighters.)

Now, I hope I get no flack for posting N'Sync. "Hey, V, I understand hating on Creed, but N'Sync?" I don't want to alienate my female readers, all three of you. I'm just saying that this group came out with, what, three albums? I'm still waiting for the next N'Sync album. But a greatest hits album after a few years of existence? Psh! Get JT to call the rest of the guys, bust out another album, and then we'll see.

Anyhow, I don't think there's that problem with Al Green's Greatest Hits. It's hard to hate on this album because each of those songs have been played incessantly in the last 35 years and, let's be honest, they're pretty classic. Now I'm a pretty big hater, and had I been alive in 1975, I probably would have been hating. But I'm here now, and I gotta say, I'll probably be bumping this for a while. As a matter of fact, "Love and Happiness" will be the next song I'll learn to play.

Speaking of hating, it kinda reminds me of this:

"Haters Through Time" would have been more appropriate, but I like this one better. Anyhow, no matter what era I would have lived in, I would have been That Guy. Always hating, bemoaning all the new shit coming out, I-remember-when-I-was-your-age and the such.

But when you think about it, I'm 24, and I'm starting to sound like those old people that hate young people. Hell, most of the people I know do that.

The reality of the fact is that no matter what age you're from, for every sick "classic" album that existed, there's 10 shitty albums that came with it. I'm sure they did this back in Beethoven's time.

"Yo, that last Beethoven album was sick, but his new shit is whaaaack!"

Hahaha...I'm just saying. Everyone thinks their generation is the best, when it comes to music or otherwise. Let's appreciate each other, old school, new school, or no school.

Anyhow, that's it for today, boys and girls. Catch ya tomorrow when I do Alicia Keys' "As I Am."

Peace bruthas and sistas!

Day 18: Call Me (1972) by Al Green

Okay, so this post is a little late, so you got to excuse me. But I was recovering from a night of drinking, and went on about 4 hours of sleep to work. Anyhow, here is my attempt at this post.

By the way, my stomach feels like it's gonna explode. I was at Joe "Tostada's" place for another round of Culinary Combat. We really are a privileged group. since we get to eat every weekend from two great cooks. Anyhow, there was chili galore. I had four bowls of awesome...oof. Luckily, we worked off the extra poundage with a few intense games of Smash Bros. Brawl. And afterwards naps.

On another side note, does anyone else other than me feel like the police are constantly looking at you to see if you do something wrong? I do. All the time. White parents tell their kids that the boogeyman is hiding in their closets. My parents told me the police were. Sheesh.

Take last night. Tostada, my boy Marino, and I had just parted ways with our other friends, only to meet up at a bar later on. Now, I can see why cops don't like me (they still have friended me on facebook): I'm brown, constantly snarling and brooding, bald, and just plain out of my mind. I fit the profile, which sucks balls a plenty. But my buddy Tostada only fits the brown part. Marino is white; 'nuff said.

Now I can only assume that all cops aren't always jerks.They have their reasons for what they do. Hey, sometimes I want to call the cops too. So it makes sense that we were stopped by the cops last night...for getting in our car too fast. WHAT?!

Yup. Just as we were getting in our car, a patrol car happens to pass the street perpendicular to ours. And we were stopped. Actually, stop implies that we were moving. We were barely putting on our seat belts. And out comes this little female Asian officer, flashing her light in our faces and giving us the third degree. She said that it looked like we were up to no good business.

If only...

This is the funny part. From what I recall, she just wanted to make sure we weren't "terrorists or anything like that." DOUBLE WHAT?! Terrorist? How is that the first thing that comes to your mind? Gang bangers, I can see. Drug dealers; sure. But terrorists? I'm pretty sure terrorist don't just scurry around Orange County, Whiteyland capital of the world.

Anyhow, she let us be, and we traveled to the bar and made up for the shitty beginning to the night with a great ending to it.

Whew. Got that off my chest.

"Call Me," by Al Green almost takes a back seat. All I gotta say about it is that Al Green wouldn't take that shit. He would just make a great album about it...like "Call Me" (this is my attempt at a segue).

Of course, "Call Me" has very little political content. It's an album about love and heartbreak, something that Mr. Green is able to convey beautifully with his voice. Stand outs: "Jesus is Waiting," "Here I Am (Come and Take Me)" and "You Ought To Be With Me." Actually, this whole album is dope. It almost seems like Al wrote this album with one person in mind. Well done, mystery woman. The world thanks you.

I'm actually listening to Jesus Is Waiting right now, and there's a tiny part in the song where there's a guitar solo. It's so simple and basic and last no more 15 seconds (check it out at 1:50), but I'm not gonna lie, it's now one of my favorite guitar solos.

On one final note, I just want to say I probably enjoy soul, funk, R&B, hip hop and all other types of black music mainly 'cause I feel they represent the struggle all minorities go through. We're all just bruthas and sistas trying to make a living, but sometimes the reality of things just bear down on our lives so much that when we express it in our arts, it comes with a fiery and soothing passion and rises above all.

Keep the struggle, passion, and the arts alive. Peace bruthas and sistas!