The Menu: To-Do List

This is probably more for me than my reader(s).  I have a gang of blogs that I want to publish, but I haven't had much time.  There's so much out there to write about, I've got to start keeping a list.

• My sister's wedding, and marriage in general
• The aftermath of my sister's wedding
• A potential rant about my daddy (depending on his behavior at said wedding)
• Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid
• Jay-Z
• More dissertation purging
• Arizona's immigration policy and my trip to New Mexico
• The NBA Finals and/or the free agent class of 2010

I'm also taking suggestions.

Commencement Season: On Not Going to College

And to think blacks spend all this money on big colleges, still most of y'all come out confused. - Arrested Development

A few weeks ago, N's daughter, E came into the living room, and asked us if she'd be "ruining [her] life" by traveling for a few years after high school before she went to college.  Now E is all of ten; the other month she wanted to become a therapist, now she's on this fashion designer tip.  So these kinds of questions can be expected, and I imagine that as of this writing she's completely forgotten that she even asked the question.  Right now, the only thing she consistently loves is basketball, text messaging, and playing the saxophone.  (She's really good at the latter; been invited to play at 8th grade graduation and everything.)  We advised her that she would not be ruining her life by deferring enrollment into college, and in fact encouraged her to see the world, whenever and however she chooses.  Consequently, she seemed less anxious about the whole thing (she's very sensitive). 

Your Whole Style Bent

Word on the street is that Lauryn Hill will be performing (parts of) The Miseducation during the Rock the Bells Tour.  I don't know if this is true, but do we need a reason to watch this amazing performance?  I think not.  A 19-year-old convinced my stepdad to rent a car for me so I could drive to Cleveland for the Miseducation tour.  If you knew my stepdad, you'd know that convincing him to do something like that is nearly as impressive as getting Lauryn Hill to perform The Miseducation for your tour.

This may be the last blog of the week for me.  Deadline looms.

Shout out to my 20 followers and any lurkers.  I love y'all like a fat kid love cake.  'Preciate ya.

Commencement Season: Summer M.'s Graduation Address

Good morning, and congratulations to the class of 2010.  I know you're wondering what inspiring words of wisdom I might impart on to a new generation of graduates.  Well, frankly, I have none, which is probably why my commencement address is coming to you via this blog and not as you sporadically doze your way through your younger brother's graduation.  It's true.  I offer you no pithy quotations to upload to your Tumblr account, no nuggets of sagacity crafted by some young, anonymous speech writer who not long ago sat where you were, unsure of his employment possibilities until his girlfriend's father hooked him up with this gig before he applies to law school.  There is nothing Twitter worthy here.  Still, narcissism compels me to keep typing.

Grace Jones

I know it's Malcolm X's birthday, but it's also Grace Jones' birthday.  Since plenty of folks will give love to brother Malcolm, I decided to shout out Grace Jones', who is 62 today.  This is my shit:



Also, shout out to her (musical) offspring, Janelle Monae for making a superb album.

On White Jesus and AKA's (and Deltas and Sigmas and...): A Hater's Rant

I exist on the internet.  This is only a mild exaggeration.  Since I'm rather public on the interwebs, I of course get Facebook friend requests from folks I've met earlier on my path: school mates, homies that I used sit next to on the bench during basketball games, the younger brothers and sisters of old friends.  Sometimes I get requests from people I don't remember ever having conversations with, but the mutual friend feature usually gets them a pass.  I often infer that some of these folks friend me if only for them to look at my pictures and be able to say with assuredness, "Oh, look! She's (obviously) fucking bitches such a dagger now.  I knew that."  But that one high school rumor about me is for another blog, another time.  I, again, digress.  The point is, I'm on the internet social networking A LOT.  (Yes, "a lot" is two words.  Take note.)

Razing Arizona

I guess I have to start protesting Arizona, née Mexico, which sucks because I'm totally not into marching, making colorful signs, or shouting rhymes in unison with a bunch of people.  I suppose, then, that I have to resort to other means of expressing my disapproval.  At first I thought I'd boycott  U.S. Airways, an Arizona-based airline, but then I remembered that my ma's part-time job is with them.  Besides, if I aim to show up at my sister's broom jumping events in North Carolina next month, I'm going to need Brenda's buddy pass hook-up.  So then I thought I'd stop drinking Arizona iced tea,  until I recalled that several years ago I wrote Arizona a letter about the plantation imagery on their sweet tea cans.  Despite the eloquence of my letter they never sent me any free tea.  I only drink water now, anyway, and a wiki search reveals that Arizona brand tea isn't even made in Arizona, née Mexico.  (New York City!)  Of course, I could root against Los Suns during the NBA Western Conference Finals, but doing so would mean that I would cheer for the Lakers.  But frankly, who's willing to implicitly support Kobe Bean Bryant in an effort to express one's solidarity with a bunch of immigrants one doesn't even know?   I know.  What a totally crazy idea.

On Black Like Me and Others

The Chicago Reader has published its spring books issue, and this time they're featuring books that (have) address(ed) black life in America over the last fifty or so years.  They cover Simeon's Story, the memoir of Simeon Wright, the cousin of Emmett Till, who saw Till taken from his relative's home that fateful summer Mississippi night.  They also profile Ytasha L. Womack, who has recently published a book, Post-Black, that explores black identity in the early 21st century.  (I read the first 30 or so pages--for diss reasons; I'm not sure I'll finish.)

The cover story is on John Howard Griffin's Black Like Me, that little piece of new journalism retelling the account of Griffin, who with the help of a dermatologist and a pair of clippers adventured as a black man traveling through the south in the spring of 1959.  I suppose that makes Griffin a kind of weird predecessor to the modern-day white savior movie--I couldn't help but think about District 9 as I recalled the skin treatment he underwent--but that's for another blog, another time.  Griffin's articles on his experience as a black man in the south were funded and published by Sepia (go figure), a kind of Look magazine for Negroes; the account was published under the title "Journey into Shame."  I could wax about the title alone, but that's another digression, and I'm sure you know what I think about it.

Lena Horne (June 30, 1917 - May 9, 2010)

Commencement Season: On 8th Grade Graduation

When I was a kid, many, many eons ago, I didn't get allowance for doing things like dishes or vacuuming the floor or cleaning my room.  My parents, I assume in an effort to get me ready for life, didn't believe that one should get rewarded for doing things she was supposed to do.  It sucked then--I thought they were a pair of mean cheapskates--but I understand it now.  To this day, I've yet to receive a single dollar for changing my own damn sheets.  I imagine my parents' miserliness when it came to hooking up their kids with a decent working wage oh so long ago, among other things, has colored the way I think about young people and when and how we reward them.  Now that I'm (much, much) older, I realize that my parents may have not been the norm, but rather part of the minority, that a lot of kids not only were getting allowance, but ribbons for doing things like coughing into their arms.

Summer M., Ventriloquist

In light of Monday's post about Sandra Bullock's adoption, I thought it fitting to end the work week with some pictures of her and her black baby that I stole liberated borrowed from another site.   I added some captions.  I'd turn them into thought bubbles for Lil Louis (and the world--house music all night long!), but that's a little fancy for an analog girl like me.  Dig it: 

Ain't this some bullshit? I thought you said she was rich, dog. I can't get any bling?  These beads are wack.  Does anyone else feel a draft?

Kick Rocks, will.i.am

I don't fuck with the Black Eyed Peas.  Not because they suck, or because they have become the apotheosis of "selling out"--whatever that means--but mostly because they shook Kim Hill for a white girl (Fergie) on their way to becoming the soundtrack to the trendy region of corporate America.  And they get on my nerves.  Plus, will.i.am is a friggin' dweeb.  A few of his tweets have circulated around the blogosphere:

Re: the season premiere of the third and final season of The Boondocks [which was epically outstanding, by the way]:

“Boondocks is funny “sayin I’m riding” if I didn’t stand up “we would have mc cain” who else stood up? Now arizona is hating mexicans

Black and Ugly as Ever, However...

Jonathan Capehart doesn't think Gabby Sidibe is very nice.  After being dissed by the actress at the White House Correspondents dinner, Capehart dedicated his column to Sidibe, retelling the tale of the snub:

I was thrilled to spot her at a table laughing uproariously with the man sitting to her right. "I know you're having a good time and I'm sorry to interrupt," I began. My next sentence didn't come out because Sidibe shouted over the din, "Yeah, come back in five minutes!" Thinking she was joking, I laughed and pretended to walk away. When I noticed that the look in her eyes meant she was serious, I walked back to her and said, "I just wanted to congratulate you on your nomination. I thought your performance was spectacular. I even wrote a column about it." After wishing her good luck, I rejoined my friends.

Summer M.'s Most Wanted: Sandra Bullock

I've grown suspicious of Sandra Bullock.  And by "suspicious" I mean she's annoying the fuck out of me.  Inspired by such pestilence, I'm thinking of starting a Youtube show called Summer M.'s Most Wanted wherein I become internet famous by videotaping myself hating on celebrities who do things I find aggravating--like adopting black babies and then publicizing it.  I could do my best John Walsh imitation ("...and remember, you too can make a difference."), get some of the homies to re-enact the "crimes," and use one of these programs on my computer to make up rap sheets with fake mug shots of said celebrities.  My pilot episode would include segments on Tyler Perry, Oprah, Kobe Bryant, Justin Bieber, and the entire cast of Basketball ["]Wives["]. Diggy Simmons could do the theme music.  Think about it.  I could become the next internet sensation.  But I digress.  Back to (white) starlets and black babies.