Some activity recently got me upset but also thinking about racism and what we refer to as 'reverse racism' as well as hate crimes. (My thoughts are that there is no such thing as RR. Any use of power over another person on the pretext or assumption of race or ethnicity is racism, which is - as Dr. King pointed out - a moral evil and sin. Anyway, this post was supposed to be short...) But just as my collar was getting a bit hot and heavy, I caught the usually observant Mary Mitchell making what I would classify as a great column in the Chicago Sun-Times. If the title "Is 'white boy' a slur? It sure isn't a compliment" doesn't get your attention, I don't know what else could.
Speaking of the Sun-Times, although Roger Ebert is still out of commission, they're still doing good things there. Check out the series on an experimental public school chartered by the U of C with the premise of mixing high-middle class and well-below-poverty-level elementary school kids through a three part series. The reporting, by education reporter Kate N. Grossman, for these perspective pieces was done during the ever-important and formative first academic year in one third-grade classroom. Part 1: One Classroom, Many Classes; Part 2: Doubts Emerge in School Experiment; Part 3: Grading the School Year. Personally, I still have to read parts II & III. Bon apettit.
Josh Hurst of the Reveal Listening Lounge has a review of Gnarls Barkley (as he says) finally posted. I merely disagree in that the mode of using, mixing and mashing pop-culture references was a mode of using, mixing, and mashing so much divergent styles of pop-music, including but not limited to, as he notes, zydeco, gospel raves, hip-hop, Frank Sinatra torches and post-modern disco.
What is it with falling-apart American cyclists and the Tour de France? I mean, it'd be one thing if their wrists were giving them pause or they got a torn rotator cuff. But an arthritic hip that's falling apart and a cancer-ridden scrotum? For a bicyclist, those areas are too close and too chafen to mess with for my money. Seriously, I'm just happy to shove it in the face of those (Micah's term) surrender monkeys. Audio from the victory lap.
Speaking of American athletes not considered athletes by a slim majority of Americans, after Tiger's triumphant 18-under-par at the Open yesterday morning, I felt newly inspired to triumph in my own version of the Masters - playing with (but yet against) the future in-laws that afternoon. In an indoor course that I could only define as about as treacherous (and untampered) as the Liverpool course, I managed to double-bogie as often as I birdied. I also got a couple hole-in-ones, but I doubt my fiancee added that correctly, as I finished 7-over. Which fulfills neither of my wishes: 1) win, or, if impossible, 2) get the highest score.