Continuing Blackface Coverage Part Three: Tokyo Drift

Before we get into the meat of this blog post, my friend Ryan brought to my attention a factual error in a blog post I did earlier this month entitled "Age of Consent Laws: A Field Guide". In this post, I incorrectly stated that I suffered a historic dry spell during the second semester of my sophomore year of college. Ryan graciously pointed out that this dry spell actually included the last half of the first semester as well. All of us here at YYII reget the error.

Now, onto continuing blackface coverage!

There's a video making the internet rounds of some sort of asian game show where a Japanese dude puts on blackface and does a pretty decent impression of Louis Armstrong singing "What a Wonderful World". This video has already been blogged about extensively, so many of you have probably already seen it (in case you haven't, go watch it on Youtube here and then come back).

If you're too lazy to go watch the youtube video, here's a still from it so we can at least be on the same page:

As those of you who are longtime YYII patrons know, I am an amateur chronicler of contemporary blackface usage. In my own humble opinion, when a non-black person wears blackface, it's pretty much always racist. Everyone in America generally agreed with this position until last year when Paramount decided to spend $150 million making an intensely mediocre comedy in which one of its principal actors was a white person who spends almost the entire movie in blackface; acting and talking like a black person. When shooting on Tropic Thunder finished, Paramount realized that this movie was kind of funny, but nowhere near $150 million funny, so they had to figure out some way to convince everyone that Robert Downey Jr.'s performance was not only not racist, but an example of pure acting brilliance. I'm not sure how they did this, but it's very similar to how Republicans convinced everyone in America that John Kerry was an un-American pussy and George W. Bush was the paragon of patriotism with all of that swift boat nonsense during the 2004 election even though John Kerry literally fought in Vietnam and George W. Bush was a lazy, idiotic, good-for-nothing, piece of shit draft dodger during that very same war. Again, I can't tell you how these tricks are accomplished, but I suspect it involves Satan, The Secret, a shitload of money, or some combination of the three.

But I digress. Because of the overwhelming validation and adoration* that Robert Downey Jr. has received for his glorified minstrel act**, it is now kind of tough to tell when wearing blackface is racist. Accordingly, as a service to you my dear reader, I try to monitor the commentary associated with each highly publicized usage of blackface in order to determine when it is racist to wear blackface and when it is just plain hilarious to wear blackface.

Japanese Louis Armstrong is walking a very fine line here. If he were an American doing this, it would unquestionably be racist, but since he's Japanese and this is a Japanese television show that was never meant to actually be shown on American TV, I think that in itself makes it a little less racist. Plus, when I saw it, I kind of thought it was just as racist toward Japanese people as it is to black people. I'm half laughing because of the blackface and half laughing because he can't pronoune l's**** ("And I say to myself, what a wonderful word!"). On the other hand, when they showed this clip on The Soup, Joel McHale said that it was racist and I generally trust Joel McHale's judgement on all matters.

I'm going to go ahead and say that by America's new post-Obama, post-racial standards on what is and isn't racist, Japanese Louis Armstrong is more racist than Robert Downey Jr. in Tropic Thunder, but less racist than the blackface crossdressing mayor. And just to make sure we're absolutely clear, I am unveiling the Yes. Yes it is. Racist-o-Meter so that you can tell how racist each usage of blackface is in pictorial form:

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*He just got nominated for an Oscar for this movie. Unbelievable. Just totally fucking unbelievable. If he wins, the Oscars are over. That's it. Let's just cancel the whole thing and forget that they ever existed just like we did with the Grammys when U2 won Album of the Year for 2005's unrelenting crapfest, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb over Kanye West's masterful Late Registration. Here are some actual lyrics from one of the songs on that U2 album: "Hello, hello! (hola!) / I'm at a place called called vertigo! (donde esta?!?) / It's everything I wish I didn't know / Except you give me something I can feel! / Feel! / Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!" I am about to be incredibly generous here and say that U2 stopped making good music after 1997. Most people will say that 1991's Achtung Baby was their last good album, but I liked Pop, so I'm going to say that they've only been musically irrelevant for the past twelve years, instead of the past eighteen (not that the Grammys care anything about the quality of your music). Also, I like Bono. He can be a little insufferable at times, but he's a good guy. See, I can be nice . . .

**I just want to clarify why I think Robert Downey Jr.'s performance in Tropic Thunder is racist. I understand that he's playing a meta-character in the movie and that he's lampooning self-serious method actors. I get that. And some of the laughs in the movie come from this meta-satire. But most of them don't. Many of the laughs in the movie come from watching Robert Downey Jr. talk and act like a black person and that's racist. When you're laughing at a white actor getting selected to play a black role and then getting skin pigmentation surgery to prepare for the role, you are laughing at a well-crafted send-up of Hollywood ridiculousness. When you are laughing at Robert Downey Jr. delivering lines like "Yo asshole! This motha' fucka's dead. Ain't no Criss Angel Mindfreak, David Blane trapdoor horseshit jumpin' off here!" in his best black guy inflection while wearing blackface, you are laughing at a racist minstrel act. Let's call a spade a spade here.***

***Just so you know, the expression "let's call a spade a spade" was intentionally included here to highlight the fact that that expression is not racist at all. Please see this well-referenced blog entry for proof.

****Hey, I'm not saying that I'm not racist here. I think Robert Downey Jr.'s performance in Tropic Thunder is pretty damn funny. Not Oscar funny, but pretty solid. It's like the Avenue Q song, "Everybody is a Little Racist." I'm not saying you're wrong for laughing at Kirk Lazarus, I just want you to be upfront about why you're laughing.

Inauguration

It is 3:30 in the morning on January 20th, 2009 and I'm standing in the basement of a townhouse in Washington, DC trying to figure out how I'm going to get down my fifth shot of vodka. I have been awake for approximately one hour. According to my phone, it is 18 degrees outside. Also according to my phone, it "feels" like it is 9 degrees outside. I don't know what either of these temperatures actually feels like because everytime my phone tells me the temperature it immediately follows that up by telling me that I should feel like its another temperature. This in turn causes the whole idea of describing temperature through numbers to become muddled in my head. For a second I think maybe that's the point. I know it's the point of the vodka.

If we were to walk outside right now, I suspect that Shawn would be much warmer than me because he is much better than me at drinking large quantities of vodka. I suspect Andrea will be as warm as me; I'm a little bit better at drinking vodka than her, but her coat looks like it weighs more than she does. I suspect Blake would be somewhat warmer than me, not necessarily because of his superior drinking prowess, but because being cold just doesn't seem to bother him as much. That's Blake for you. I am wearing four shirts, three pairs of socks, two pairs of pants, and a hat. I take my fifth shot of vodka. It's not so bad.

I am so concerned with finding ways to manage my perception of my own temperature because in fifteen minutes I will leave this townhouse, walk 2 miles to the National Mall and then stand shivering for the next eight hours. I will do this because today Barack Obama is going to be inaugurated as the 44th President of the United States and I suspect that this moment will be an extremely important one to history generally and to me personally and that this feeling of importance will only be heightened by the fact that I was there in person. At noon, all of my suspicions will prove to be correct, but noon is still eight hours away and there's a lot of time to fill between then and now.

The clock finally reaches 3:45 and the four of us make sure we have everything that we need. Blankets, Nutri-Grain bars, beef jerky, excedrine, five hour energy drinks, magazines, water, and phones. It's all there and we're ready. We pour whatever vodka we have left into two dixie cups, grab our bags, and head out the door. It's not too cold.

What happens over the next few hours is a blur. We walk toward our destination, the 7th street entrance to the mall. When we get there, the line to get in already stretches two blocks away. We wait. We meet people. We talk to them about the weather. We dance with them and sing with them. An hour of waiting passes and we finally reach the gate. It is closed due to overcrowding.We find a way in anyway.

It is six in the morning and dark and the mall is crowded but not overcrowded. We walk east and find an open spot near the Air and Space Museum. We spread out a blanket and sit down on it, claiming our territory. We have two more blankets to use among four people, so we all huddle together underneath them. It's cold, but it's not so bad.

People start to fill in around us and one of them is a tall black guy in a red jumpsuit selling handwarmers. We buy several. I put one in each glove and then put one in my hat. It feels good. The handwarmer salesman decides to hover around our little makeshift camp. As more and more standing people fill in tight around us, we remain lying down. This creates a clearing that allows the handwarmer guy to get people to notice him and to conduct his transactions easier and cleaner. Some people get upset because we are taking up too much space, but the handwarmer guy quiets them. Every minute or so he shouts out "Handwarmers, five dollars!"; a mantra for the four of us that lulls us in and out of sleep. It's not so cold.

We remain lying, huddled together in this way until the sun comes up and we rise to find ourselves beset on all sides by a million, maybe more. We eat Nutri-Grain bars and drink water and take Excedrine in hopes of ameliorating a hangover that never comes. We have a good view of the capital building and the dais in front of it, but we are much too far away to make out any of the actual people standing on it. This is OK. We have just about the best spot you can hope for without actually having tickets.

Volunteers start handing out little American flags as Sunday's concert from the Lincoln Memorial plays on the jumbotrons. It is clear that some people think this concert is live and they start cheering and clapping and singing and dancing. Most people know that the concert isn't live, but many of them start cheering and dancing anyway, just to stay warm. This seems like a good idea to Shawn and I, so we join in. I look over at Andrea. She looks small and cold, but she smiles and never once complains. Blake is still sitting on the ground, eating Nutri-Grain bars like he thinks they might run away from him. He doesn't look all that cold either.

As the sun shines, everyone begins to talk to each other more and warm up a little. A black elementary school teacher from Atlanta comes up to our group and asks us to write down what this day means to us in a notebook. She sees the University of Georgia hat that I'm wearing and tells me that her daughter is a freshman there. I tell her that I bet her daughter is having the time of her life and the teacher replies to me in the affirmative. These are how the conversations will go throughout the day. A seventy-two year old black woman comes up to Shawn and Andrea and asks how tall Shawn is. He tells her that he is six foot-four and the woman tells Shawn that her son is six foot six and plays basketball. Shawn says that he is too uncoordinated to play basketball and the woman laughs. As she leaves to walk closer to the capital building, Shawn turns to me and says that he likes talking to the older black people the best because you can immediately tell that this moment means so much to them and because they are so very joyful. I agree with him.

When you are a white person at the inauguration of the first black President, sometimes you feel a little out of place. You feel like maybe this is someone else's moment and you're here to co-opt it for yourself. Your happiness at the moment feels less authentic and less valid and maybe it starts to make you feel a little bit guilty for moving in and reveling in it so much. But you need only talk to people like that seventy-two year old woman to know that people like her are just as eager to transmit their joy to you as you are to ingest it from them and vice versa. It is clear that the moment is for everyone; it just means different things to different people. The school teacher from before knew this and she knew that we knew it too. She asked us to write in her notebook because, more than anything, she wanted to make sure that her students back home would know this. And they will.

Ten o'clock finally comes and a choir assembles on the dais and begins singing. Audience members start filling in the seats below the podium. As famous people walk in, their images are shown on the jumbotrons. Huge cheers for Jay and Beyonce and Oprah. Shawn and I clap for John Cusack. Political figures begin to fill in the seats behind the podium. The crowd erupts for Colin Powell. Big cheers for John Kerry, John Lewis, Barney Frank, and Al Gore. The Supreme Court Justices begin to file in and they are followed by the ex-Presidents. Thunder meets the Carters and Clintons. Everyone is seated and the formal proceedings begin. Dick Cheney is brought out in a wheelchair. He is quiet and his eyes look downward. Nobody boos him. George W. Bush follows and is met with some boos, but not nearly what I expected.

You've all seen what happened next, so I won't rehash it for you here. Joe and Barack are sworn in and the 44th President gives his speech. It is of course a wonderful speech, at times moving, but not overly so. More than anything, it is appropriate. There will be times in the months and years ahead for words that will be carved into monuments, but not today. Now is the time for sober recognition and respect for the work that lies ahead.

About halfway through the speech, I saw out of the corner of my eye a tall black guy in a red jumpsuit, the handwarmer salesman from earlier. All the handwarmers had pretty much died out by now, but he didn't look very cold and I wasn't either. He turned and saw me and we smiled at each other for a second before turning back to watch the rest of the speech. As our President closed with the story of Valley Forge, it was especially poignant for those of us who had spent the past eight hours waiting in the cold for him. We felt like he was talking directly to us, and he was, but he was talking directly to everyone else in the world too because that's what he does.

The speech ended and we listened to the poem and the benediction and then we all started making our way out of the mall. We left together not necessarily fundamentally changed, but secure in the knowledge that even in our coldest times, we can warm each other up. Whether it's drinking together, laying next to each other, talking to each other, singing and dancing with each other, listening to a speech together, or just exchanging a knowing smile, we can warm each other up if we decide that we want to. And if I learned one thing from the whole experience, it's that if you need to know the temperature, don't ask your phone, ask the guy next to you. The former will give you numbers, but only the latter can tell you how it feels.

America's Funniest Home Videos Poetry

If you are like me, you watch an unbelievable amount of televsion. Like, an inordinate, unhealthily large amount of television. If I were the star of a Truman Show style 24 hour reality program, it would be a terrible, terrible show because at least 40% of it would look exactly like this:

Me sitting on a couch in some apartment or house watching TV. Perhaps with Jeni Brown, perhaps not. Also, there may be a lamp growing out of my forehead. At any rate, I watch a lot of TV, and as such, I am constantly scrolling through the guide trying to find something decent to watch. As anyone who has Comcast knows, the descriptions of shows found in the guide are oftentimes some of the funniest things on TV! It is with this in mind that I bring you a new series on YYII: "Fun With the Comcast Channel Guide".

In our first installment, we will take a look at descriptions of the show America's Funniest Home Videos. This will be easy because the show comes on at least twice a day across four different channels (ABC, Peachtree TV, WGN, and Family) on Comcast in Atlanta. The descriptions of AFV on Comcast's guide are oftentimes funny and cryptic, like this one from January 8th, 2009 on WGN:

Screaming amusement park riders; funny dogs; babies and kids doing funny things.

What can you do with these delightfully random descriptions? Turn them into beautiful poetry, of course! All of the poems below are composed entirely of actual descriptions from the guide that have not been edited in any way except for the addition of a few line breaks and some new punctuation:

ABC on January 11th, 2009

Basketball bloopers

and amazing shots;

a smiling dog;

crying quadruplets

soothed by the voice of Johnny Cash

and a man's cosmetic attention

to his eyebrows.

WGN on January 12th, 2009

A monkey rips off a woman's wig.

A man tries to eat a huge clam

and spits it up.

Family Channel on January 13th, 2009

A rat

attacks a doll;

A dog

retrieves a ball;

A new father

faints in the delivery room;

A toddler

resembles his goateed uncle.

Also:

mouse-catching shenanigans.

WGN on January 13th, 2009

A squirrel gets caught on a spinning bird feeder;

a toddler falls into a basket of easter eggs.

Family Channel on January 13th, 2009

A man is caught

with more

than his guard down

in an out of control flying harness.

A beat cop literally hits the streets.

A woman struggles to remove

a facial mask.

Family Channel on January 16th, 2009

A child gets emotional

when others sing;

another youth's joy over a gift

is short lived.

A 3 year old belts out a tune.

WGN on January 19th, 2008

A little girl tries to box up

her brother for mailing.

A kid can't wait

until cookies are done.

A man gives his baby a pacifier

that looks like a rat.

Also: A wayward limo driver.

Family Channel on January 20th, 2009

A wild amusement park ride!

An ostrich that swallows a wedding ring!

A woman who burns a shirt while ironing!

And a close encounter

with a donkey.

WGN on January 9th, 2009

People react

to fake winning lottery tickets.

A woman loses her dentures

while trying to blow out

candles on a birthday cake.

A dad falls off a playground merry go round.

(Comedy)

I think the WGN descriptions have a zen-like quality to them while the Family Channel offerings seem to speak more to the modern human condition.

I hope you've enjoyed America's Funniest Home Videos poetry. Please check back in the future for additional installments of Fun With the Comcast Channel Guide!

***Note: in the interest of full disclosure I kind of stole this idea from slate.com when they did a similar piece with George W. Bush quotes.

Age of Consent Laws: A Field Guide

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Warning:

The following blog post discusses mature themes and includes a variety of profane language. Read at your own discretion.

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I don't much care for most forms of sexual intercourse. I find the missionary position too personal. Doggy style is like pouring hershey's syrup on vanilla ice cream (still vanilla). Latex? Too expensive. Erotic asphyxiation? Reeks of mid-90's Rockdale County. Boston Pancake? Thanks, but I prefer my Cleveland Steamers neat. Alabama Hot Pocket? Sorry, I'm trying to fuck, not perform surgery. Alsakan Pipeline? Hilarious, but overwrought. Soggy Biscuit? Too filling. Cincinnati Bowtie? Pedestrian. Orangutan brushfire? Been there, done that.

But there are some forms of sex that I really do enjoy. For example, I can get really excited about any act or collection of acts that necessitates the presence of a gimp. Or some good old fashioned sex in a public place.

Or having it with extremely young people.

Problem is that the age at which it is acceptable to engage in sexual intercourse varies widely around the world. As I am a renowned world traveler, I thought it would be helpful to do a little research into this very subject with the hopes of avoiding any unfortunate legal troubles. It is with this in mind that I bring to you the YYII field guide to age of consent laws around the world! Enjoy!

United States of America

The age of consent in the USA can vary anywhere from 16-18 years old depending on what state you're in. In Georgia, it's 16 (jackpot!), but if you're 18 or younger, having sex with a 14 or 15 year old is only a misdemeanor.

Canada

As far as our neighbors to the north go, you can play ball at 16, but no anal till you're 18. Apparently, it takes two extra years to mentally prepare yourself for letting one slip by the two hole. Luckily for middle and high schoolers, Canadians are slightly more tolerant than us of kids having sex together. If you're twelve or thirteen, it's OK to have it put to you by someone two or less years older than you. If you're 18 or 19, you can have sex with someone up to five years younger than you. If I had known about this during the historic dry spell I suffered during my second semester of my sophomore year in college, I'd probably have eight or nine Canadian children right now.

Mexico

Age of consent is 12 years old in 21 of 32 states, although the enforcement of the law really depends on the degree to which the offender can obtain potent, clean cocaine. Quick word to the wise, Cancun is in Mexico's Quintana Roo state where the age of consent is 14. Something to keep in your back pocket.

Dominican Republic

This item was included only so that my friend Shmortz could get his first mention on the blog. It's 18, buddy. I took the liberty of googling some Domincan lawyers for you here.

France

Once you turn 15, anything goes in France. Interestingly, all male homosexual acts have been perfectly legal in France since 1791. Conversely, male on male sodomy (or male on female, for that matter) did not become legal in all states in the U.S. until 2003, thus making George W. Bush's presidency one of the greatest Presidential administrations of all time for the expansion of LGBT rights. Way to go, Dubs!

Greece

"A gleaming [hairless] chest, bright skin, broad shoulders, tiny tongue, strong buttocks, and a little prick. " -- Ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes describing the perfect boy to have sex with. With Greece being the birthplace of May-December, man on man homosexuality, I find their age of consent laws (15 for all heterosexual action; 17 for anything homo) to be a bit hypocritical.

Belgium

16 unless the person you're having sex with is a member of your family. Then it's 18. We're not savages in Belgium.

Cyprus

Should you find yourself in the lovely island nation of Cyprus, the age of consent for all penetration is 17 with one exception: if you are a woman who is at least 17 years old, you may allow a boy who is 13 or older to fuck you in the ass. 13 year old gentlemen, start your engines. Oh, and by the way, all non-penetration sexual acts are permissable regardless of age, so it is perfectly legal for a 2nd grader to give her teacher a footjob.

Vatican City

And the award for youngest age of consent laws in the entire world goes to . . . . . . . the Vatican City! (Tied with 65.6% of Mexico) Only 12 years old across the board to play ball. Guys, sometimes the material writes itself.

Singapore

Zimbabwe

In both countries, it's 16 for all heterosexual or female on female homosexual acts. All male on male homosexual acts are straight up across the board illegal. In Zimbabwe, you can actually get locked up for a year for holding hands with a dude. Finally, a few age of consent laws that make sense!

Saudi Arabia

It is illegal to engage in any kind of sex act with anyone unless you are married. If you ARE married, anything goes. Also, there are no age restrictions to getting married. According to wikipedia, in 2008 a Saudi Arabian court refused to annul the marriage between an 8 year old girl and a 58 year old man. So, there you go.

And that brings us to the end of our journey. I hope you've enjoyed this trip through the age of consent laws throughout the world. We here at YYII support safe sex practices, so please remember to use appropriate contraceptives when engaging in sexual intercourse unless it is 3:00 in the morning, you just got back from the bar, and none are available. Now go get out there and fuck all over the world!

***Note: all information in this article is sourced from wikipedia, except for the thing about cocaine in Mexico, which is roundly believed to be accurate, but unsourced. YYII.com accepts no responsibility whatsoever for legal troubles experienced as a result of following the guidelines in this field guide.