Thursday, August 31, 2006

You Don't Love Me No More ... (audio)

Things are a little busy, and many people are leaving, so I'm putting TAN on autopilot until next week. In the meanwhile, in-between styles, I'll leave you with this song by Phonte of Little Brother. It's called - wait for it - "Autopilot" and I bet it's the best song you hear today.


MP3 File


Unrelated: this may have been my favorite post I did for Gawker, so maybe you want check her out also.
(fyi, this is my first time using the blogger staple, "--wait for it--" ... good times, good times.)

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

When The Levees Broke

Considering it's been raining for the last six days, it's totally apropos that today, on the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, HBO Documentary Films presents Spike Lee's critically-acclaimed epic When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts, Tuesday (8/29) at 8 pm.

From an interview with Spike:
"One of the significant things about the title is that most people think that it was Katrina that brought about the devastation to New Orleans. But it was a breaching of the levees that put 80 percent of the city under water. It was not the hurricane. And last week the United States Army Corps of Generals went on record and finally 'fessed up, and said that we fucked up. "
This is sure to be a heartbreaker, and I'm excited to be depressed off my ass. The flame for New Orleans and the Katrina aftermath has faded a bit, I hope this doc sparks a little re-ignition. If you were watching the Emmys on Sunday, consider this your prescription for spiritual/karmic balance.

When The Levees Broke [HBO.com]
Spike Lee Interview [HBO.com]

UPDATE:
Just read the review by David Denby in the New Yorker:
Viewers seeking detailed information about the economy and the politics of New Orleans will have to go elsewhere. But anyone hoping to reclaim Katrina emotionally—to experience what the city went through in all its phases of loss, anger, and contempt—needs to see Lee’s movie, which is surely the most magnificent and large-souled record of a great American tragedy ever put on film.
On "Spike Lee's enormous documentary ..." [The New Yorker]

Paid In Full ... To Blog (audio)

1st Verse: Assimilated
2nd Verse: Negro


MP3 File

Yo, I'm thinking of a master plan
you know it's always real shit when you f*ck with TAN
so I start a post, got no comments
I wrote another, still coming up with lint
so I close the laptop
leave my residence
thinking about Nick Denton's dead presidents
I need a niche
maybe I do sh*t for kids
or pitch this hardcore, raw dog sh*t for nigs
It's like, holla!
show me the dollars
don't folla?
I went to colla
still ain't nothin' change but the squalor
I wanna learn to blog, act self-righteous
feels great god, maybe I might just
look for a gig on craigslist
but I smoke pot
been taking Jaeger shots for breakfast
call my balls young
and my c*ck is restless
you know it don't stop
cause I'm on some next shhhhhhhhhhh

*** SWITCH***

welcome to hell
land of Jor-El
staredowns I don’t blink, think my shit doesn’t smell
rip it very well
we talking liquid fairytale
inspired to dream, perspire for green
observe desire, words that conspire to scheme
me and my muse emerge attired like a sire and queen
*inhale* I take you higher
hired to burn fire
fired I turn dire straits to gates of empires
think twice beware, don’t enter the lair
so hot the sun drops, clouds gasping for air
n's gripe, I bled to wipe destiny’s tears
over head with insight, your eyes confessing to ears
i appear, grab mics, my profession is clear
who on the fence ego repressing their fears
convinced they might manage to bs a career
they're like beers
I’m food for thought you're digesting for years

*said we rarin' to go ...*
*said we rarin' to go ...*

Monday, August 28, 2006

Behind The Blog: Gawker Boot Camp

When I initially got the call for guest-editing, I had the idea I wanted to do a little 2-minute video spoof on what it was like to prepare for being a Gawker editor, and how frenetic and crazy it was behind the scenes. So I pitched a Fight Club style spoof of Gawker Boot Camp. I didn't write a full treatment, just a scene-by-scene synopsis of what I'd like to do. Alas, there were no thespians among us, so we couldn't proceed.

Gawk Club

Cast

Chris Mohney – Drill Sergeant
Jess Coen – Lt. Editor
Alex Balk – Lt. Editor
Krucoff – Krucoff/Various
TAN – black person


1. We open on TAN sitting outside with his laptop. He is blogging earnestly, but his face shows a look of carefree amusement. A stealthily cloaked STRANGER (Krucoff) sits down next to him. The stranger stares at TAN silently for a few seconds, then hands him a small piece of folded paper. TAN takes the paper, unfolds it, and reads. We close in on the sloppily handwritten note, it reads, “FIDELIO” on it. Seeing TAN has read the note, the stranger starts to leave, tan grabs him and makes him wait. TAN then takes out a small piece of paper, writes a note on it, then folds it up and hands it to the stranger. The stranger, looking very much like TAN during the previous note opening, unfolds the paper and reads it. It says, “what the fuck does that mean?!!?” The stranger takes out another piece of paper and writes, “do you want to write for Gawker???” He includes check boxes for yes, no, maybe. TAN gazes off into the horizon, then checks YES. The journey begins …

GAWKER BOOT CAMP / GAWK CLUB

2. We see TAN walking the street. He receives a phone call. The voice asks, “are you ready to begin your training blogger!” TAN responds, “Yes!” “Well training begins tomorrow morning 5 AM sharp."

3. Training Montage. Shots of running city blocks. Running staircases. Working out on a Total Gym (a la Chuck Norris). Lots of blood, sweat, and tears. He’s also doing ten-pounds-of-vogue-crunches, where his trainer/spotter hits him in the head with Vogue magazine as he raises his body for each crunch. All exercises are performed with an open laptop in-hand.

4. Fight Club. TAN stands at attention outside of Gawker HQ. He has been instructed not to respond and to stand there for three days and nights. Chris and the editors take turns in coming out to verbally abuse him, “Go home TAN. We don’t want you here. We gave you comment privileges, now get the fuck out of here! You’re too poor. You’re too stupid. You’re too fat. …. You’re too BLACK!!” TAN cries, checks his skin and weight, and starts to leave. Krucoff comes out and urges him to stay.

5. Fight Club Acid Test. One of the editors tells TAN to put out his hand. He takes a bottle with a clear fluid in it. Tan cowers in anticipation of the pain. The liquid is poured on to TAN’s hand. TAN yells and screams and holds his hand in excruciating pain. The editor watches in cold silence. After a bit, TAN is informed the liquid is plain water.

6. Blogger Line-Up. Alex and Jessica are lined up in front. TAN and Krucoff are behind them. Interns are behind them. They are all facing Chris Mohney who is pacing in front of them drill sergeant style. He is preparing to rev them up for another blog day.

TAN, who is lined up behind J Coen, is trying to talk to her. She ignores him.

“First rule of Gawker, THERE IS NO TALKING ABOUT GAWKER”

TAN now tries to touch J. Coen, and indicates some sexual gesture to Krucoff next to him. Coen, still trying to ignore, tries to evade TAN’s touch.

“Second rule of Gawker, THERE IS NO TALKING ABO— TAN!, Second rule of Gawker, THERE IS NO TOUCHING OF JESSICA COEN!!”

Third rule of Gawker, “We don’t have a God complex, WE ARE GOD!!!”

7. Blogging Montage. Fast paced blogging, people sweating, throwing magazines and things all around. Interns perform slave labor in the background. Everyone is wearing gawker tees, but they change them every five minutes. The editors may yell snarky comments at people from the window, to test reactions in person.

8. Finally, we see TAN exhausted, his clothes are dirty and tattered. But he has completed his stint as a Gawker editor. His life is complete.

FIN

Behind The Blog: Already Over

So back on TAN after the Gawk-stint. It was an experience. Some of which I will share here over the next couple posts (but not too much because I swear there's a hit-man following me with 10 lbs. of Vogue to insure I don't over-blab).

If you read Gawker last week, no doubt you noticed the Already Over feature. Commenters have been having a field day ragging, seemingly indiscriminately, on any new feature Gawker trots out, by the time I punched in, the repetitious inanity of people saying "Already Over is Already Over" had become too much to bear. So I tried to make my first Already Over one that confronted the issue head on. It was ultimately nixed, for reasons that are self-evident upon reading it, but I will share it here for posterity. And so I didn't write it for nothing.

(incidentally, I just discovered you can max out the text for a title on blogger, as I initially tried to use my Already Over title as the title for this post, but it was too long. Here it is below:)

Already Over: Cowardly Commenters Who Clamor For An In-Card To The Most ‘Already Over’ Non-Secret Club In The Country And Then Complain Like The Clandestine Double-Crossers They Are


Heeelllooooo. *taps on glass* Yes, I’m talking to you. Yeah you, the one sitting there poised behind your computer, staring at an empty comment box wondering, “how the fuck can I make up for every social fumble I’ve made in my life with one, brilliant, snarky comment.” Just hold on one second. Don’t write that perfectly hilarious Already Over Haiku just yet.

See I look at the subject of this Already Over and I think, damn, that’s so specific (we don’t make these up, we draw them out of an Already Over Subject Dispenser, made in Taiwan.) Off-hand I know the Gawker Commenteers are a proud and capable bunch, the hot, blustery, wind beneath our wings, if you will, so I would anticipate difficulty in finding one or two of these cowardly-commenters, let alone double-digits.

Meta-Aside:
Chris, please tell the market research guy to shut the fuck up about the ‘yelling at the audience” or step out the room and close the door. Because this has nothing to do with the advertisers who dutifully teabag our collective nutsack (J.Co notwithstanding).

What’d you say Chris?


Yeah I know I’m a TEMP. Now kick him out and close the door.


***continue reading ...***

We don’t like litter-bugs. Do you? I mean you’re smart, hip, stylish, (at least that’s what we tell the advertisers). You can’t possibly enjoy litter, can you? You could probably write one heck of a blog post about how beautiful this city could be, if stupid people leave their stupid trash (note: must look up another word for stupid, CC: Balk). It’s one of the most existentially-challenging things you see all day, thoughtless people just throwing cups of soda, or sandwich wrappings on to the street, with a trashcan two feet away. How do they exist?

So why then do you, our stylishly substantive friends, come and dump your mental refuse in our comment box? Especially when your blahg is but a few fingerstrokes away. Shit like this makes me want to pitch a Kofi Anon: Commenter Assassin feature, lest we forget Stipulation #5 in the Comment FAQ:
5. Can I be banned from commenting?

Yes, if your comments are excessively self-promotional, obnoxious, or even worse, boring.
So now that we've remembered the rules, are we calling out names? Why not, you’re calling out ours.

Salome writes, "Already Over: Gawker"

**snipe**

WTF??? That was the leadoff piece Salome. PAY ATTENTION! You might as well just cut and paste our 600-word missive on the subject, so as to ensure we don’t innocuously gloss over your comment-incompetence.

Good thing technology has armed us with these newfangled commenter profiles, so we can peep your resume, and see who gets laid off for littering on the job. Don’t get us wrong. We LOVE most of you. You’re so smart, and funny, and charming, and everything you could want in a click-through. We want you to express yourself. We want you to keep us in line (or at least show us where the line is so we know where to poop as we cross it). But please make an effort. Be smart. Be funny (note: need new words for smart & funny, CC: Balk). That’s what we’re all here for right?

So read, react, revolt. Dissect us into a million little faux-writer pieces. But roaches beware, Kofi Anon may soon be shining the light of comment justice upon all ye Cowardly Commenters Who Clamor For An In-Card To The Most ‘Already Over’ Non-Secret Club In The Country And Then Complain Like The Clandestine Double-Crossers You Are. Your end is not imminent, indeed, it is already over.

Now go ahead, guess who wrote this one.
---

(just to reiterate, in hindsight, I learned a lesson on not impulsively reacting to commenters. Fact is the Already Over haterade died down over the last few pieces, and this would have been a wee inappropriate. And for the record, my favorite Already Over comment was this one from narnia. Also worker #3116 did a good job when the stupidity peaked during Already Over: Secret Clubs)

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

So, Um, What's The Assimilated Negro All About Anyways???

So what is TAN all about?

People ask me all the time, and I don't know what to tell them. But recently, I've realized that a big part of my creative/artistic vision is about finding the balance. Black and white. Funny and serious. Whimsy and whatever. Wait, that's the same thing. Well either way, in baseball jargon, I like to "hit it where they ain't."

So in digging through the archives, you're sure to find I have a "voice" with a Chappellian fervor for racial humor. But by no means, is it all that I talk about.

I tell some personal stories. But I prefer to use this site as a sketchpad for whatever creative impulses shoot through my assimilated brain. Sometimes I'm short and to the point. Sometimes I'm long-winded.
Sometimes I do some celebs. Some sports. Some current events. Some NYC. Some philosophy. Some childish nonsense. Some satire. Some whimsy. Some music. Some video. Some T(rue)&A. Some pansy-ass punk beeotch ish. Some hip hop. I might tell you about a concert, or a video shoot.

And that's just tip of the iceberg. All on the quest for balance.

When I started this blog, after a couple weeks of posting there was only one conclusion to be drawn. I sent an e-mail to Nick Denton and Gawker, letting them know I was ready for the big time. Here's an excerpt:
Recently getting started, but I have a good back story, an agent ... and more importantly skills.

maybe.

But I think the only thing holding gawker back from world domination
is a little melanin. The negroes who spend their money on broadband, instead of wholesale crack. And that's where T.A.N. comes in.
(...)

With the audio, I saw you give a shout to John Eff Kennedy, who I once hired to hail cabs for me back in the day. He had a nice little celeb rappy-rap ... but I'm better. And black. So I'm better, plus I keep it real...
No response at the time (my pitch letters are an interesting balance of risk/reward all-or-nothing propositions). After a month, and inspired by this guy's gawk-scam (scawk?), I decided to step my game up and make sure I got on the radar. Though I remember feeling ambivalent when TMFTML linked me citing my line, "got the melanin flowin', for Jessica coen" as a sign of the apocalypse. (it's not me, it's fast franks).

Fast-forward less than a year later, and I'm compelled to crack the slightest of smiles, because while Nick never e-mailed me back (though we've spoken since), tomorrow I start temping guest-editing at the big G. And the fact I'm working with the apocalypse-predicting Alex, and the scawking Chris (neither of whom were with Gawk at the time), seems a wee bit ironic, if not outright synergistic destiny.

Anyhooka, perhaps Gawker is looking for balance, and hopefully that will be something I can provide.

wordemup.

PS: Due to the G-shift, I won't be back until next week, but please send tips and as much help as possible to theassimilatednegro at gmizzy. You're more likely to get through to an editor there than the cluttered gawker tips line, at least for tomorrow and Friday.

HOLLA!

Monday, August 21, 2006

"This Is For The Kids Who Jerk To Maxim Covers"

Almost neglected to mention, in watching Entourage last night, I noticed them biting my styze like 3-4 years later.

At the height of The Blue Room era, in the tradition of "Dreams" by BIG and "How To Rob" by Fifty, I penned the unknown classic "Girls I Like ..." which contained the triplet:

you know I'm a lover
just throw me the rubbers
turn this up for all my heads who jerk to maxim covers

In yesterday's episode, Drama, on his first day of a new primetime acting gig, takes a Maxim into the bathroom as fodder to help relieve his anxiety. It's later revealed to him that his Hand Solo session was broadcast over the live microphone he was wearing.

It was one of the bigger setups/gags in the episode, and I'd bet that the Maxim placement and joke was critical for Entourage's name-dropping ironic-hip edgy style. I just wonder what shows will be sipping from my contributions to the Communal Idea Pool years from now.

Blue Notes: Girls I Like ... [TAN]

TAN: Real Estate Insider

As New Yorkers we all hear tales of those lucky individuals in rent stabilized and rent controlled apartments. But if you're like most New Yorkers you just sigh and think to yourself "Must be nice-- I could never get my hands on a cheap apartment like that." you gaze off in the landscape and imagine all the money you'd save if you only had to pay $800 in rent-- you imagine yourself travelling, buying stocks, having children etc. You curse your ancesters for not having the forsight to rent apartments in 1927 for $25 a month and pass them down to you.

Don't you wish you had the inside scoop and knew an insider who could get you an apartment steal? You've found the insider, you're looking at that insider, it is us- HH REALTY GROUP TAN.
more ...
The post goes on to list a few great deals (adjective added, without having seen the places) and pre-qualifications.

3 Bedroom For $1500?!!?
[HH Realty Group]

Friday, August 18, 2006

Eve Draws The Line At Brain & Testicle Eating

Even when I'm indulging my celeb-idolizing, I stil like to maintain a bit of my iconoclast spirit. So I usually take great pains to disassociate from whoever the hot flavor of the year is, and go for the girl who was once the it-girl, but now is fading (or faded) from the spotlight.

So if you say Beyonce, I might go J-Lo. You say Eva Longoria, I might go Marissa Tomei, or Penelope Cruz. If Christina A's back, then I'll take advantage of poor, broken Britney ...

So along those lines, a week or two ago I was looking at Eve's wiki, and thinking, "hmmm, she's kind of cute now that the spotlight isn't so bright. Perhaps someday I will put down my ibook and take her on as my muse." But then I saw she was dating the son of a dictator, and being given Bentleys as gifts. And here I haven't even put Google Adsense on my blog yet. So the thoughts passed.

But then Rush & Molloy provide a glimmer of hope, as they report Eve and TeodorĂ­n Nguema Obiang are on the ropes. Apparently having "one of the most ruthless dictators in the world" as a potential father-in-law might be wearing on Eve's conscience a bit, considering the Bentleys, yachts etc may be coming at the expense of the country's people.

But exploitation is not so bad when it's to your gain. So I tend to agree when R&M speculate further:

"Perhaps it was the potential father-in-law who was the turnoff. President Obiang killed his own uncle, was thought to be involved in his brother's "suicide attempts" after he questioned Teodorin's role in the government, and has been accused of cannibalism by opponents.

The leader of the government in exile, Severo Moto Nsa, said on Spanish radio: "He has just devoured a police commissioner. I say devoured, as this commissioner was buried without his testicles and brain."

Perhaps indeed. With Eve's thespian pursuits I'm inclined to think we have the premise for Meet The Parents III: Papa PeePee Eater.

And of course, I can write the script, and make the connection with Eve. Synergy!

Rappers Gives Hotshot The Eve-Ho
[NY Daily News]
Breakup of The Day [bestweekever]

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Filling The Assimilated Void

Hugh at gapingvoid, who's been a big TAN supporter since Day 1, posted a business card-toon he made for me yesterday.

I do like it, Gawker hand-me-down status notwithstanding, and plan to enjoy the copious amounts of computer-coochie tossed at my server because of it.


Hugh actually sent me a different card idea maybe a month ago, and it was a bit more controversial. I fancy myself a steely-faced racial provocateur of sorts, but even I had to bat an eye at this one:


After getting some feedback, the second one felt like it'd be a bit awkward for 90% of the general public. But seeing both at the same time, it's sort of an interesting safe/edgy dichotomy.

I remain interested in responses to either card, but the second one in particular.

TAN Bizcard [gapingvoid]

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

For The Man Or Beast In Your Life

You know how you might be playing with your doggie, and you have to sort of back up because his breath sells like piping hot ass?

Now ladies, have you ever been playing with your boyfriend and had the same reaction?

Well in that case Burt's Bees Peppermint Breath Drops are for you. You'll notice at the bottom of the label it says they are "for Man and Beast."

Kind of how Fast Franks come in Beef and Meat.

I just want to meet the girl who's administering breath drops to their mangy boyfriend. I want to know if the boyfriend sits patiently on his hindquarters, or if he is evasive, and you have to chase him all over the house.

I'd like to have a friend that forced me to carry these around with me because I was never sure when their breath might be so blisteringly assty, such that while they're telling me about work, or their blahg, I'm compelled to drip a little peppermint in their mouth to help maintain the proper atmospheric pressure. I'd like this friend and I to be close enough so that neither of us even react when I do this. Like how guy-friends pass gas, and scratch their balls sans restraint around each other. And girls, presumably, compare tampons and make-out in wet t-shirts.

So if you always clear the room when you exhale, please refer to my commenter-to-friend questionnaire, and holla. Actually, don't holla, just get in touch via e or something. We'll holla later, after we've properly prepped.

Burt looks like the kind of guy who might have some hot dog breath

Monday, August 14, 2006

Nicole Richie Is Dying!

Holy shite. I just saw this pic over on best week ever.

Nicole has gone from *maybe* a little pudgy, to cute, to The Machinist II.

Someone get her some Fast Franks fast.


(and my comment on their post amuses me greatly, go read it, and sing along)


Nicole Richie Still Skeletal [bestweekever]

Apocalypse Now: Death In 35 Seconds Or Your Money Back

THE END IS NIGH!

Look around you my friends. Feel the texture of the air. Breathe it in deep, for soon it will be gone.

If you have yet to cast your eyes upon this cornucopia of convenience, this man-made monument to microwaving efficiency, prepare to bear witness ...

Fast Franks
from Oscar Mayer

Ok, let's dig in shall we? First off, in the link above they say Fast Franks are, "Available in both Beef and Meat jumbo varieties." Beef and MEAT?!!? To paraphrase Chris Rock, "LIE TO ME OSCAR!" Make it beef and "turkey," or beef and "pork," or beef and "bananas." Don't just get all lazy on me halfway through and call the shit "meat." Like that's a legitimate "variety." And if that's "meat," then WTF is "beef"?!!?

Then next up we have the Fast Franks press release, where we can ignore the beef-meat in the middle to focus on the intro/hook/lede:
It’s mouthwatering to imagine -- a tasty, hot and juicy Oscar Mayer hot dog wrapped inside a soft and warm bakery-fresh bun. And now imagine only having to wait thirty-five seconds for that first delicious bite.
(bold & italics mine)
What marketing/ad guy convinced himself that if they tell us so, we'll believe our refrigerator and/or microwave have somehow transformed into a baker's oven, one which just prepared a fresh bun and meat-dog in thirty-five seconds?

And what sluggardly fat-ass market research group told these guys we're looking for a way to speed up the painstaking process of getting a dog to the bun? The screening questionnaire must have been pretty short:

1. What is your name?
2. How old are you?
3. Do you eat five thousand hot dogs or more per day?

But my favorite part actually comes in the end, when they get all WIRED on us, and use the phrase, "By leveraging proprietary dough technology, ..."

I mean really now, you might as well label it, "BUY THIS, YOU DUMB-ASS (flip over) WASTE OF A WALLET!!!"

I even had to go look up the meaning of "dough" just to be sure:
dough (noun)
1. a thick, malleable mixture of flour and liquid, used for baking into bread or pastry.
2. informal money
Hmmmm, looks the same as I remember it. While they're at it, they might as well tell us there's micro dough-chips in the actual dough(!!!), and when you microwave it they form a thousand-dollar bill that wraps and protects your fresh snack or meal.

Anyways if Oscar-Mayer hit me off with some real non-microwaveable dough, I'd let them know the only way this can catch on is if - and only if - they get the fast-frank-finisher himself, Takeru Kobayashi, to be the spokesperson.

Now who's hungry?

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Fighting For Flav

I haven't seen it, but from these snippets, clearly Flavor Of Love 2 is the best show on television.




And then the postgame is even better than the actual fight. Complete with a calm discussion of what "white frail girls" are allowed to do, a geography lesson on Crenshaw vs. Compton, and prayers.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Racism Isn't Dead, Its Just Been Caricatured

Great read from Bomani Jones on ESPN Page 2, about Donald Sterling and the lack of media coverage with regards to his history of housing discrimination.

People tend to think of the more annoying manifestations of racism, like how hard it can be for non-white people to get cabs in New York. But in the grand scheme, stuff like that is trivial. What Sterling is accused of is as real as penitentiary steel.

But for some reason, that hasn't qualified as big news in most places.

Sterling deserves to be raked over the coals for this. Judgment should be reserved on the suit the Department of Justice filed until a verdict or settlement has been reached. But he's already paid millions in the face of similar allegations.

It's not Sterling's job to bring attention to his ethical transgressions. That's the job of the media. And as it relates to Sterling, we have dropped the ball.

In American sports, issues of race are unavoidable. But when we turn our attention to those issues, we tend to do so in discussion of sensational topics. And we do so with little more than passing interest.

We're more concerned with people saying stupid things, transgressions that even undeniable racists could criticize.
more ...
I've touched on aspects of this when reviewing Crash, during the Kill Bill flare-up, and while questing for the negro hipster. Now I'm starting to think of the issue in terms of candy and vegetables. As in, we have candy issues, that are sweet, or salty, or nacho-cheesy, like Paris Hilton shaving her kunta kinte. And we have vegetable issues, like Donald Sterling being sued in 2003 by 19 people for housing discrimination. Or the number of black people incarcerated relative to the rest of the population. Blah blah blah.

And the blahs are the point. Vegetables are bloring. Paris Hilton's kunta kinte is hottt ... and presumably fluffy with some sort of chocolate nougat in the middle. (wait a second, has she been with any black people?) (wait two seconds, black people don't shoot fluffy chocolate nougat!) (do they???)

But what's interesting is that there are a lot of smart people looking at everyone flocking to the candy, and concluding that the race menu no longer has any nutritional value. Snobby nutritionists saying, "look at all the fools feasting on candy." Meanwhile, because they're looking at that crowd, they're missing the wheelbarrow of vegetables being pushed by the likes of Donald Sterling behind them. Or under their nose. Or wherever.

And now I'm kind of lost. And Paris Hilton: Driven is on. So my point is this ... I really liked the Bomani Jones piece. And all you pretty girls out there, you might not have to go to the store to sate that hankering for a 3 Musketeers.

possibly Paris ... and TAN?

Donald Sterling: Keeping The Racism Old School [ESPN: Page2]
Good Negro Writers: Harder To Find Than A Three Musketeers [Bomani Jones]
Me & Sir Anthony Hate Racism [TAN]

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Get To Know Your Blogger

So I got this e-mail the other day. And usually I don't hesitate to delete something like this but it came from a good friend I haven't seen in a while, and it read:
I know that most of you don't want to do this, but I would greatly appreciate it. Please copy the list and send it to your friends.
So I felt obligated. And since anyone who reads my blog, I consider a friend, consider this my sending to you. Don't feel obligated to e-mail me back though.

The original subject of the e-mail said, "Get To Know Your Friends," hence the title.

1. What is your full name?
The Assimilated Negro

2. What color pants are you wearing?
seersucker shorts, blue stripes

3. What are you listening to right now?
nothing, the sound of an air conditioner. The last song played in my itunes was "Tainted" by Dwele, w/ Slum Village.

4. What was the last thing you ate?
a grilled chicken club sandwich. with the president of the hottest non-profit in the country, Donors Choose. Plus I can rap. Envy me.

-- #5 was actually deleted in the original e-mail, which means my friend must have edited one of the questions out. BUSTED! --

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Black, or sky blue (tie)

7. How is the weather right now?
I don't know, just about perfect.

8. Who is the last person you spoke to on the phone?
the manager of my building

9. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
[Friends Name] is in the pantheon of memorable people you meet in your life

10. How old are you today?
never-turning-thirty, or, Too Old

11. Favorite drink?
Water, ketel&cran, mike's hard cranberry lemonade (tie)

12. Favorite sport?
Baseball/Sex

13. Hair color?
Black (and proud baby)

14. Siblings?
1 newly discovered half-sister

15. Favorite food?
Ga Sate at the vietnamese restaurant

16. What was the last movie you watched?
The Descent (in theater), V for Vendetta (dvd)

17. Favorite day of the year?
Tomorrow

18. What was your favorite toy as a child?
the minds of children less intelligent

19. Summer or winter?
summer, summer, summertime

20. Hugs or kisses?
This is a quote from the man who sent this to me. "Hugs (kisses are overrated....)" - the truest thing I heard this week.

21. Chocolate or Vanilla?
TAN

22. Do you want your friends to email you back?
Friends don't e-mail. Friends call. (not true, but I liked how it sounded.)

23. Who is most likely to respond?
Anonymous

24. Who is least likely to respond?
Nick Denton, Oprah Winfrey, Salma Hayek

25. Living arrangements?
Dolo (with short-tem house guest)

26. When was the last time you cried?
every night

27. What is under your bed?
the remain of the girl who wrote this post


28. Who is the friend you are sending this to you have had the longest?
Keep friends close, and enemies closer

29. What did you do last night?
sleep, for a change

30. Favorite smell?
Clean vagina

31. Favorite TV show?
New York Mets baseball. Maybe Entourage so I have something to talk about at bars/parties.

32. Happy In life?
someday

33. What are you afraid of?
not being great loved

34. Butter or salted popcorn?
how much does it cost?

35. Favorite car?
anything by lexus

-- Where's 36 son??? --

37. Number of keys on your key ring?
5, plus the master for the collective heart of women everywhere

38. How many years at your current job?
ain't nothing going on but the rent ...

39. Favorite day of the week?
Saturday?

40. What did you do on your last birthday?
Hid from the age police. Drank, cried, yelled, mocked people older than me, destroyed, murdered, raped, pillaged, blew out candles.

41. How many cities have you lived in?
Hmmm. The Bronx, The LES, SpaHa, Wallingford CT., Pomfret CT., Hartford CT. (6)

42. Do you make friends easily?
Yes. I also kill them easily.

43. How many people will you be sending this to?
I will be sending this to the world, via the intergalactic universal home for friends, foes and fearsome felines - TheAssimilatedNegroDotCalm

Who's Non-Threatening?? The TANdemic Rages On ...

Back in the days when I was just getting started doing bloggy things, the premiere man for ad-hate vitriol, the legendary Copyranter, gave me a shout-out. I of course had no problems with his choice of the words "brilliant" or "prolific" ... but "non-threatening" made me raise an eyebrow. So I dug up one of the semi-threatening pics I had for a show I was promoting, thinking I'd post it before any of my caucasian peeps started feeling too safe. Ultimately my assimilated side got the better of me, and I just left it alone. But now, here it is:

And I only post it now because, in this interview with me over at The Blog Reader, where I'm featured next to the lovely and lawyerly Opinionistas, I once again have no threatening pictures. So, I don't know. The more I look at it (click to enlarge), the more I feel non-threatened, but until I get the pics where I have the gun crammed down some anonymous commenter's throat developed (eff digital!), it'll have to do.

Anyhoochie, they have a good crop of blog-interviews on their front page now with me, opinionistas, adrants, paul graham amongst others. So check them out.

TANdemic
[The Blog Reader]

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

The Garbage-Bag Luggage Collection™

So this young assimilated-negro-to-be who has been staying with me, shook me up with some iconic imagery. I was sitting in the west-wing of my apartment, where I assigned his living quarters, and I noticed that he was rocking the Garbage Bag Luggage Collection™.

Now this is iconic imagery for TAN, and I suspect other assimilated negroes, because it left me awash with memories of when I was a young aspiring assimilated negro, and I rolled up on the campus of Choate Rosemary Hall with my own Garbage Bag Luggage Collection™, completely oblivious to my just-raked-the-front-lawn appearance. It was a bag (Hefty mind you, Hefty ain't cheap), and you use bags to hold stuff. And these were the bags we had. Us poor people didn't know about the nuances of luggage with handles, and wheels, and zippers. Nah, we knew about throwing it in the plastic, and if you had a lot of stuff (like an iron) you better make sure you use more than one twist-tie.

But having completed the Negro Assimilation Program (NAP), now I do things like ask the Lions of HH Realty Group to fetch me some outdoorsy living, and, of course, I've also upgraded my luggage. Now I only use trash bags after I catch a body, but seeing that the GBLC™ still lives was a nice nostalgic treat.

The Lions of HH Realty [HH Realty Blog]

The Incredibly Wack Emcee's Incredibly Wack Bio

So glad you're peeping my bio. It’s definitely going to be the highlight of the package here...

There are a lot of good emcees out there, but I’m not one of them. I am so wack. It’s kind of preposterous how wack I am. If I wasn't so wack I'd be able to come up with a song or even a line or two that vividly illustrates a preposterous level of wackness, and my symbiotic relationship with said level. I’m so wack you have to peep out when I’m on a track and cop my EP because it might just be the wackest shit you ever heard in your life. You’re not going to want to download, you’re going to want to buy this incredibly wack shit. You can make a profit on E-Bay off the "buy it now" wacktitude. Monumentally wack. Colossally wack. A benchmark moment in the history of wackness. My lyrics are corny. I bite off only the wackest of emcees. I have no rhythm or timing. No cadence. No substance. My voice can hardly be made out, the soft whisper of nails on a chalkboard. I have a taste for wack beats. I like to fake sing, but I’m not good at it. And I don’t mean not good like Pharrell not good … I mean “please turn that wack ni**a off NOW” not good. I’m pretty ugly … missing a couple teeth. And it’s not a cute missing of a couple teeth, it’s a “please turn that wack ni**a off NOW, because he’s wack, and he looks nasty with no teeth in his mouth” missing of a couple teeth. Did I mention the pimples on my face leak puss whenever the temperature goes over eighty degrees? My clothes are holy, ratty, and smelly. In battles I freeze up like Eminem in the beginning of 8 Mile, but that's the end of the movie. Well, except the scene where he gets f*cked up. And the scene where some other ni**a is banging my girl. I experience those scenes on a daily basis. At my best I’m the guy who says punchlines that elicit nothing but silence. Sometimes my punchlines make people want to punch me (see previous nine words for an example). I get other MC’s real pumped up because they know in a battle they’re going to get in my ass with just a couple lines, and have the crowd covering their mouths with their hand saying "ooooooooohhhhh snap, oooooohhhhh dip!" if I wasn't so wack I'd know people don't use "oh snap" or "oh dip" anymore.

Word … so peep me out. I’m history in the making. Coming to a mic near you …

(all descriptions, physical and otherwise, inspired by that ugly ni**a TAN himself)

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

But Have You Seen The Movie High Uptown Yet?

If you see the movie downtown, you see it with your standard crowd. If you see the movie uptown, you see it with your peoples. And your peoples are like the craziest peanut gallery ever. Everyone turns into Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, or Eddie Murphy, and they got one-liners for every part of the movie. When Chappelle is tired out, here comes Rock ...

My most memorable uptown movie experience was during a screening of The Matrix. It was right when the movie came out. A full theater. And I'd say for the final third of the movie, once the love connection between Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Ann Moss was firmly established, everytime they looked at each other, or did anything suggestive of romantic intentions, this guy would yell out, "GIVE HER THE MATRIX!!!"

Now The Matrix was a killer movie when it came out. one of the few that would keep an uptown crowd quiet for two hours. And so it would be deathly silent in the theater, everyone intensely captivated by this cutting edge movie, some crazy scene, and then Neo and Trinity would lock eyes, and you'd hear, "GIVE HER THE MATRIX!!!"

It was hilarious. A little annoying. But hilarious.

If you don't care about the movie so much, and find yourself in a fun mood, I recommend a late uptown screening. If you don't need the comedy, stay south of the mason dixon (96th St.).

Monday, August 07, 2006

House Rules

Young kids always want to break the rules. Fuck the rules dude!! But with experience you realize the rules can help. Especially if you want to accomplish something. If you want to be good at something. Jordan, given a ball, but no rules, is just a psychotic mad-man who likes to jump around , stick his tongue out, and put orange balls in “baskets.” Put a little froth around his mouth and you might shoot him if he came within twenty feet of you or your family. But with a few rules in place he is a basketball genius and you want his autograph.

So rules can enhance your appreciation of something. They allow you to tab something/someone as genius. And since TAN doesn't follow the typical blogger rules (stick to a niche, clockwork schedule etc) I thought I'd post some of my own "guidelines," thereby allowing me to potentially get lumped in that category by accident.

It's a given, since I'm a self-effacing blogger, that I don’t have the talent to be a genius (psyche, yes I do!), but at least trying to be one gives me something to do everyday. And that’s a nice shiny new penny to have in your pocket.

So here are some guidelines to enhancing your appreciation of the assimilated negro.

1. I censor arbitrarily -- i.e. “rub that f*cking semen all over Dakota Fanning’s young face ni$$a. Oh sugar-honey-ice-tea and fudgesicle pops, here come the cops. We gotta go, just leave her. LEAVE HER!!!”

*sound of advertisers fleeing the building*

I amuse myself when in one place I tell a story about, um, someone doing shrooms and vomiting on a girl's vagina. And in another place I refrain from typing all the letters in the word sh*t. You should be amused too. Say it with me now, HAHAHAHAHA THAT IS PURE GENIUS. I think this is representative of my feelings on censorship. *the crowd oooohhhs* It’s arbitrary, and kind of silly in a way.

2. I often think in black and white. When I see a subject all the black jokes come cascading, and all the white jokes come cascading. The asian and "others" jokes don’t overflow in the same way. Also I’ve just had more opportunities to reach a comfort level with both Negroes and Caucasians. But Asians I still sort of feel I could get a ninja star to the throat if I say the wrong thing. *TAN slumps over and falls dead from apparent neck injury*

3. I’m having a hard time figuring out the intelligence of my audience. Actually, it’s probably more about me having a tough time digesting the fact that I’m not the smartest kid in the room (just one of them). Point being, sometimes I want to be idiot-inclusive, and I might do something like link to a picture of Beyonce, or the definition of philosophy. Sometimes these are just jokes. Whatever you think puts me in the best light, that’s what I intended.

4. --Rule Deleted--

5. All my posts contain triple entendres. So you're advised to read them again and again until you find the extra layers of meaning.

6. I take requests and tips. Always need fodder, since I’m some sort of weird combination of insular recluse and one-track-minded extrovert. Hit me at theassimilatednegro [[[at]]] gmizzy [[[dot]]] cizzy. This e-mail address is idiot-exclusive, I hope.

I'll add more rules/guidelines as I figure them out ...

Classic Moments In Interrupted IM History

You know how on IM, you might be speaking to someone, and you go on some humorous tangent. But then the other person has to work, or step away and so you're left hoping/wondering your tangent isn't left out there dangling for others to see and misinterpret. These make forClassic Moments In Interrupted IM History. Here's an example:

TAN-Bloupie:
saw little miss sunshine
erm. LOVED IT
TAN:
it was cool. i saw it with a ruckus crowd that was actually a little distracting .
TAN-Bloupie: note: i went with a friend and she had NOTHING to do with my shoulder.
TAN: hmmpph
TAN-Bloupie: just sayin!
TAN: has to be a male ... males love shoulders
TAN-Bloupie: ah hah.
why - is it like a neck boob or something?
TAN: mmmm neckboobs ...
please, don't get me all hot and bothered ... it's too early in the morning
TAN-Bloupie: fair enough.
ummm, cat testicles.
better?
TAN: nooooo ... NOT AT ALL ... cat testicles MMMMMHHHMMMMM
TAN-Bloupie: one sec. brb.
TAN: -classic moment in IM interruption-

What's A Bloupie? [TAN]

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Superman Doesn't Like The Pale Breezies

Got this awesome link sent to me. Apparently this is an authentic old school comic cover. They post a lot of crazy covers like this over in the galleries at Superdickery.

Initially I was thinking this might be some sort of throwback tanning salon. But then I speculated on the storyline, and figured this has to be about Superman getting tired of the light-skin breezies. They probably can't handle trooping around in all the direct sunlight on Krypton without the extra melanin. I'm betting that in addition to the Breezie-Cooker, Superman also has a Phatty Machine, so he can have a little something-something to hold on to while he's bangin' breezies in a single bound.

They also should have changed Lois's name to Weezie for the issue.


They Don't Make Comics Like They Used To
[Superdickery]
What's A Breezie? [Ni**a Know]
(thanks Jim for the link)

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

The Assimilation Exchange: Now Illustrated!!

Brandon, the indomitable illustrator imself, gave me something for the Cracka Crackdown!! feature on TAN.

So after doing The Ass-Ex, I asked him if he had any ideas for that, and I think he nailed down another classic.


Brandon, Fearless Illustrator [loosenut studio]
The Assimilation Exchange [TAN]
Cracka Crackdown!! [TAN]

Hopeless Romantic

I'm working on a couple projects, and reading other stuff in hopes of inspiration or whathaveyou. I was reading a draft I have of the script for Adaptation, and I just loved this little scene that never actually made it into the movie.

INT. THERAPIST'S OFFICE - DAY
Kaufman talks to his therapist.
KAUFMAN
I could tell a woman I'm a screenwriter and I could get laid

THERAPIST
I'm sure that's true.

KAUFMAN
But I want them to like me. The way I like them. The way I'd do anything for some woman walking down the street. A million women walking down the street. I don't need to know what their job is. I don't need to know them at all
(a terrible sadness)
No one will ever love me like that.

Kaufman glances down at his therapist's breasts. He does it fast and unintentionally. He quickly shifts back to her face. His therapist wraps her shawl around her.

*and... scene*

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Somebody Needs To Question The Sweater

Who Shot Ya? The quest for the murderer of the Notorious B.I.G. begins again:
A new special police task force has been assigned to try and catch the person responsible for the 1997 killing of rap star Notorious B.I.G., the Los Angeles Police Department confirmed Monday.
more ...
I looked for a Biggie image, and found this pic of him in this Cross Colours-meets-Pablo Picasso number. As far as I'm concerned the case is a wrap now, the sweater obviously did it.



New LA Police Probe In Notorious Killing
[ABC News]

If You're Fat, And You're A Rat, Help Is On The Way

The Fatcine. I don't know, the way we're going, it looks like fat people should be extinct sometime around the summer of 2015.

Here are five things I'll miss when fat goes the way of the dodo bird:
  • Fat Bastard
  • Santa Claus
  • The phrase, "more cushion for the pushin'
  • Wondering why every big black woman acts like Mo'Nique (or is that the other way around?)
  • My head

and you???

Anti-Obesity Vaccine Developed [BBC]
We Can Also Just Laser The Fat Away [TAN]
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