Originally published in the Southwestern College Sun on 3/22/11...
This link is broken.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
New Superintendent Shakes Up Tech Study Group
Originally published in the Southwestern College Sun on 2/22/11...
This link is broken.
This link is broken.
Wednesday, June 1, 2005
Rammer Jammer Yellowhammer (Book Review)
Mississippians love their books. They have to, what with being
the state known for Faulkner, Welty, Tennessee Williams, John Grisham,
and others. Planet readers were astonishingly literate and one of our
constants was our book section. We did small book reviews and had lists
of regular book signings, and every now and then I'd do a book review
(we had an editor and several freelancers who loved to do them). This
was just one of my favorites.
I’m sitting on the couch, watching Olympic event after Olympic event and nearly drooling at the opportunity to watch my Chiefs smack around the Rams on preseason Monday Night Football (by the time this sees print, I’ll find out if I was right). I’ve made no secret of my love of sports, or of the fact that Kansas City football and baseball are imprinted on my soul. I’m also a New England Patriots fan – many moons in Maine caused me to adopt them, but they are a distant second compared to my beloved Arrowhead Stadium roughnecks. I’m a half-assed Ole Miss fan, simply because I went to a cow college in a neighboring state, one in which the football team found mediocrity something to strive for. I once screamed so loud and so long – at a high school football game – that I broke my voice.
Put simply, I’m a sports fan.
I’m sitting on the couch, watching Olympic event after Olympic event and nearly drooling at the opportunity to watch my Chiefs smack around the Rams on preseason Monday Night Football (by the time this sees print, I’ll find out if I was right). I’ve made no secret of my love of sports, or of the fact that Kansas City football and baseball are imprinted on my soul. I’m also a New England Patriots fan – many moons in Maine caused me to adopt them, but they are a distant second compared to my beloved Arrowhead Stadium roughnecks. I’m a half-assed Ole Miss fan, simply because I went to a cow college in a neighboring state, one in which the football team found mediocrity something to strive for. I once screamed so loud and so long – at a high school football game – that I broke my voice.
Put simply, I’m a sports fan.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Rebekah Potter Interview (Multi-Media Artist)
This was unquestionably my most informal interview - and it seemed
perfect for the subject. We met in her kitchen while she made pizza
dough, and I questioned her with off-hand comments. I considered it an
interview version of her work - "not a rectangle." Sometime later, she gave me a 5' x 4' piece of art that I had admired in
her studio. It's vaguely rectangular, has no real corners, is folded in
places, stitched, battered, taped (and all this the way she made it),
and goes everywhere with me. Like all great art, wherever I hang it,
it's perfect.
Rebekah Potter does not believe in rectangles. Instead, she prefers to let the borders of her art become part of the art itself. Using scrap wood – complete with gashes, tears, and protrusions – she creates pieces that purposefully reach beyond the boundaries our minds impose. Many of her paper and cardboard collage pieces have no shape, reaching out and folding back in on themselves, helping turn the medium into the message. She sews stitches into many of her pieces, adding texture and drawing your eyes to places they would not necessarily go. And yes, she does have some rectangular pieces, but only because it suits her to do so.
Potter has been called an intrepid wanderer, living alone around the world, yet always touching base in Jackson, where she lived for six years. Perhaps because of her infrequent visits home, she has remained near the edges of Jackson’s vibrant art scene, yet she has many devotees and numerous individuals collect her work. She often reaches inside herself to find her subject matter, which vividly reflects her state of mind at the time.
Rebekah Potter does not believe in rectangles. Instead, she prefers to let the borders of her art become part of the art itself. Using scrap wood – complete with gashes, tears, and protrusions – she creates pieces that purposefully reach beyond the boundaries our minds impose. Many of her paper and cardboard collage pieces have no shape, reaching out and folding back in on themselves, helping turn the medium into the message. She sews stitches into many of her pieces, adding texture and drawing your eyes to places they would not necessarily go. And yes, she does have some rectangular pieces, but only because it suits her to do so.
Potter has been called an intrepid wanderer, living alone around the world, yet always touching base in Jackson, where she lived for six years. Perhaps because of her infrequent visits home, she has remained near the edges of Jackson’s vibrant art scene, yet she has many devotees and numerous individuals collect her work. She often reaches inside herself to find her subject matter, which vividly reflects her state of mind at the time.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
The American Astronaut (Movie Cover Story)
This is one of the strangest indie movies ever made - and one of
my favorites. I was sent a copy to watch before calling and speaking
to the filmmaker. It was one of my favorite pieces. He was astonished
at how warmly Jackson reacted to his very bizarre movie.
“I wanted to create a movie that people would like more and more every time they watched it,” says Cory McAbee, about The American Astronaut, the full-length movie he wrote and directed.
Six years from script to screen, released and distributed by McAbee and the film’s producers, Bobby Lurie and Joshua Taylor, The American Astronaut is a combination low budget science fiction movie, punk musical, snarky comedy, and a literate commentary on mankind’s base desires. Filmed on lush 35 mm black-and-white film, it looks like a blend of old “Flash Gordon” serials, Joss Whedon’s Firefly, Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, and an indie graphic novel. In The American Astronaut, the look and feel of the film itself is more important than the look of the effects, an almost incomprehensible notion for a film that is, basically, science fiction.
“I wanted to create a movie that people would like more and more every time they watched it,” says Cory McAbee, about The American Astronaut, the full-length movie he wrote and directed.
Six years from script to screen, released and distributed by McAbee and the film’s producers, Bobby Lurie and Joshua Taylor, The American Astronaut is a combination low budget science fiction movie, punk musical, snarky comedy, and a literate commentary on mankind’s base desires. Filmed on lush 35 mm black-and-white film, it looks like a blend of old “Flash Gordon” serials, Joss Whedon’s Firefly, Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, and an indie graphic novel. In The American Astronaut, the look and feel of the film itself is more important than the look of the effects, an almost incomprehensible notion for a film that is, basically, science fiction.
Tuesday, March 1, 2005
Metal Finishing Services -- Metro Business Chronicle
I did some work for a business paper run by a pretty well-known
Libertarian, Jack Criss. Though politically we didn't agree, I liked
the way he had writers shine a light on the various businesses and
businessmen of central Mississippi. I found that it's easy to write
about anyone who is passionate about what they do. Everyone I
interviewed for MBC was passionate about their work. I picked this
piece, because the field in which he works seems dull to those of us who
don't understand it, but so necessary and worthy for those who do.
David Church isn’t afraid to spread himself a little bit thin. Unlike some businessmen whose ‘eyes on the prize’ philosophy forces them to focus on one particular role in business – one hat to wear – and whose single-minded determination causes harm to their home life and health, Church is perfectly comfortable wearing those different hats. Husband, father, antique car hobbyist, and avid bicyclist who laments the lack of places to ride a bicycle inside the city of Jackson – he is all of these things. He is also president of Metal Finishing Services, office principal for Criterium Engineers, president of 750 Boling Street Partners, an officer of the Hawkins Field Industrial Park, and a working electrical engineer. Given his choice on what he would rather do, he responds:
“I prefer to be working on my own cars or riding my bicycle. Those are my vices.” In fact, it was one of his interests that led him to opening the doors to Metal Finishing Services.
David Church isn’t afraid to spread himself a little bit thin. Unlike some businessmen whose ‘eyes on the prize’ philosophy forces them to focus on one particular role in business – one hat to wear – and whose single-minded determination causes harm to their home life and health, Church is perfectly comfortable wearing those different hats. Husband, father, antique car hobbyist, and avid bicyclist who laments the lack of places to ride a bicycle inside the city of Jackson – he is all of these things. He is also president of Metal Finishing Services, office principal for Criterium Engineers, president of 750 Boling Street Partners, an officer of the Hawkins Field Industrial Park, and a working electrical engineer. Given his choice on what he would rather do, he responds:
“I prefer to be working on my own cars or riding my bicycle. Those are my vices.” In fact, it was one of his interests that led him to opening the doors to Metal Finishing Services.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
New Life for Women (Feature Cover Story)
I won't say much about this one, except that New Life for Women
is one of the worthiest causes I've ever seen. It was brought to my
attention by my friend and neighbor, Debbie Parks, who introduced me to
the people who run it. Debbie graduated from New Life several years
ago, but not before the damage was done. She had cirrhosis, which
turned to cancer, which killed her a few years ago. But she was clean and
sober from the time she left New Life until the end. They're not just
good people; they're the best.
Planet Weekly originally published this with all the women's real names, but enough time has passed, and I think it likely that some of them may not want their names bandied about on the Interwebs. As such, I've changed their names - out of respect for who they are, and where they may be at this time in their lives.
New Life for Women was founded in 1988 as a secondary treatment program for homeless, chemically dependent women. According to co-founder and current executive director Melanie Parks, women who complete primary treatment for chemical dependency – which consists of detoxification and about 30-45 days of treatment in places like Harbor House – typically return to their same places, people, and situations that caused the dependency, and are successful in maintaining long-term sobriety only about one time out of ten. Secondary treatment helps the women maintain sobriety at a much greater rate. Parks estimates that after 90 days’ treatment at her facility, or one like it, their chances rise to six out of ten, but she does admit:
“I don’t think there’s been any empirical data put together about that, but it would be interesting to know what the numbers are with the support systems established through an agency like this one.”
Planet Weekly originally published this with all the women's real names, but enough time has passed, and I think it likely that some of them may not want their names bandied about on the Interwebs. As such, I've changed their names - out of respect for who they are, and where they may be at this time in their lives.
New Life for Women was founded in 1988 as a secondary treatment program for homeless, chemically dependent women. According to co-founder and current executive director Melanie Parks, women who complete primary treatment for chemical dependency – which consists of detoxification and about 30-45 days of treatment in places like Harbor House – typically return to their same places, people, and situations that caused the dependency, and are successful in maintaining long-term sobriety only about one time out of ten. Secondary treatment helps the women maintain sobriety at a much greater rate. Parks estimates that after 90 days’ treatment at her facility, or one like it, their chances rise to six out of ten, but she does admit:
“I don’t think there’s been any empirical data put together about that, but it would be interesting to know what the numbers are with the support systems established through an agency like this one.”
Tuesday, February 1, 2005
"Geek Flag Ideologies" (Column)
This one turned out to be one of my most popular columns online -
and nobody made fun. It turns out that lots of our readers were geeks.
Big surprise. It turns out that lots of people nowadays are
geeks. And why not? Geeks really do make the world go 'round. We
actually had a love-fest online for about three weeks as people shared
the stories and admitted which Doctor they loved best. It died out
eventually, as all good threads do, but this throwaway column became one
of my favorites because I found out how many of these tough,
mean-spirited Jacksonians proudly flew their geek flags.
Keep in mind that this was written before the tremendous Matt Smith/David Tennant/Christopher Eccleston "Doctor Who" revival, before J.J. Abrams' "Star Trek" reboot, and before George Lucas sold the "Star Wars" franchise to Disney -- with promises of new movies to come.
I might as well get this on record first: I’m a bit of a geek. I read science fiction and fantasy. I have a full run of Babylon 5 on tape. I swap Dr. Who references with a few fellow (possibly mentally ill) fans. I have pretty much every Batman and Justice League collection DC Comics has printed in the past ten years or so. I played Dungeons and Dragons for years (actually, I played 2nd Edition AD&D, mostly in the “Forgotten Realms” setting, for those fellow geeks in the know), and I enjoy dabbling in both the Star Wars and the Star Trek aspects of fandom.
I love the brilliance of Robert A. Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke, yet I can still put up with the overly purple prose of Roddenberry’s Trek, the derivative technobabble of Next Generation, and the insipid dialog of Lucas’ Star Wars.
Around the survivors a perimeter create, indeed.
Keep in mind that this was written before the tremendous Matt Smith/David Tennant/Christopher Eccleston "Doctor Who" revival, before J.J. Abrams' "Star Trek" reboot, and before George Lucas sold the "Star Wars" franchise to Disney -- with promises of new movies to come.
I might as well get this on record first: I’m a bit of a geek. I read science fiction and fantasy. I have a full run of Babylon 5 on tape. I swap Dr. Who references with a few fellow (possibly mentally ill) fans. I have pretty much every Batman and Justice League collection DC Comics has printed in the past ten years or so. I played Dungeons and Dragons for years (actually, I played 2nd Edition AD&D, mostly in the “Forgotten Realms” setting, for those fellow geeks in the know), and I enjoy dabbling in both the Star Wars and the Star Trek aspects of fandom.
I love the brilliance of Robert A. Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke, yet I can still put up with the overly purple prose of Roddenberry’s Trek, the derivative technobabble of Next Generation, and the insipid dialog of Lucas’ Star Wars.
Around the survivors a perimeter create, indeed.
"The Healing Power of Violence" (Column)
This one led to a message online that read, "I guess all
liberals aren't alike. I suppose I'd better leave that big stroller at
home." I responded that I didn't mind the big strollers, so long as he
left them in the street with the other SUV's. A few months later, at an
art event, I met the woman who wrote the message. She was geniunely
funny - and had a ginormous all-terrain stroller.
As much as I would like to see the idea of death handled with a bit more finesse, I have to admit that I have a warm place in my heart for a spot of fisticuffs. I believe in the healing power of violence, the soothing joy of a butt kicking; I buy my cans of Whoop-Ass® 24 at a time at Big Lots. I believe that planting a fist six inches deep through a person’s face really does solve certain situations best.
As I grow older the criteria I use to determine who deserves a box on the ears has gotten looser. Times past, I’d believe in giving a drubbing only to a select few, but now I’m getting older and crankier.
Cell phone shouters – those people who feel that they have to raise their voice in the most public places to be heard at the other end of the line – well, simply put, each of them deserves a quick smack to the back of the head. Winn-Dixie managers who keep four lines open during the day when there is no one inside except the four cashiers staring at other, and then close all but two lines at five o’clock when the crowds roll in? The tried and true swift kick in the ass seems apropos for this situation. Those yahoos who cut you off in traffic and then immediately slow down? I believe every citizen has the right to act as a police officer in this case: pull them over, tap on the glass, and bang them in the head with a Maglite.
As much as I would like to see the idea of death handled with a bit more finesse, I have to admit that I have a warm place in my heart for a spot of fisticuffs. I believe in the healing power of violence, the soothing joy of a butt kicking; I buy my cans of Whoop-Ass® 24 at a time at Big Lots. I believe that planting a fist six inches deep through a person’s face really does solve certain situations best.
As I grow older the criteria I use to determine who deserves a box on the ears has gotten looser. Times past, I’d believe in giving a drubbing only to a select few, but now I’m getting older and crankier.
Cell phone shouters – those people who feel that they have to raise their voice in the most public places to be heard at the other end of the line – well, simply put, each of them deserves a quick smack to the back of the head. Winn-Dixie managers who keep four lines open during the day when there is no one inside except the four cashiers staring at other, and then close all but two lines at five o’clock when the crowds roll in? The tried and true swift kick in the ass seems apropos for this situation. Those yahoos who cut you off in traffic and then immediately slow down? I believe every citizen has the right to act as a police officer in this case: pull them over, tap on the glass, and bang them in the head with a Maglite.
Monday, December 20, 2004
"Santa Claus's Political Affiliations (With Footnotes)" (Column)
There is no reason for this, but this is one of my favorite columns of all time, bar none.
I always wondered what Santa Claus’ political beliefs are, and yes, I know that’s weird. I figured it to be easy to work out what he believes by what he does. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even easy figuring out where he originally came from, but I did a little research and I think I may be a little closer to the answers.
Some say Santa Claus began as St. Nicholas, a Turkish priest and saint, who gave toys and candy to the yard apes of Asia Minor 1700 years ago. He was canonized and became very popular, becoming the patron saint of children, sailors, and several countries. When the Reformation swept Europe, those pesky Protestants made any celebration involving St. Nick illegal. As usual, the Dutch did their own thing and kept Sint Nikolass part of their festivities. When they came to America and snagged the last remaining parking spots in New Amsterdam, they brought a devotion to Sinterklass, as they called him here. When the Dutch were evicted in the 17th Century, their English landlords turned Sinterklass to Santa Claus.
Let’s see: Santa is Catholic, at least partly Dutch, and he settled in New York. He believes in giving gifts to everyone and he works with (ahem) a small minority. By golly, he’s a Blue Stater!
I always wondered what Santa Claus’ political beliefs are, and yes, I know that’s weird. I figured it to be easy to work out what he believes by what he does. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even easy figuring out where he originally came from, but I did a little research and I think I may be a little closer to the answers.
Some say Santa Claus began as St. Nicholas, a Turkish priest and saint, who gave toys and candy to the yard apes of Asia Minor 1700 years ago. He was canonized and became very popular, becoming the patron saint of children, sailors, and several countries. When the Reformation swept Europe, those pesky Protestants made any celebration involving St. Nick illegal. As usual, the Dutch did their own thing and kept Sint Nikolass part of their festivities. When they came to America and snagged the last remaining parking spots in New Amsterdam, they brought a devotion to Sinterklass, as they called him here. When the Dutch were evicted in the 17th Century, their English landlords turned Sinterklass to Santa Claus.
Let’s see: Santa is Catholic, at least partly Dutch, and he settled in New York. He believes in giving gifts to everyone and he works with (ahem) a small minority. By golly, he’s a Blue Stater!
Thursday, November 11, 2004
"2004 Post-Election Blahs" (Column)
I don't think this one needs any explanation. I'll just say that eight years later, the world's a different place...
Just a few random post-election election thoughts:
Blah blah blah, mandate from the people, blah blah blah, margin of victory, blah blah blah, most votes of any president, blah blah blah, most popular president ever. Tired of hearing the same old, same old from those pundits too…let’s not say stupid; let’s say…preoccupied with saying, “We won! We won! Nanny-nanny-boo-boo!” to actually look at some other facts?
Mandate from the people? There were two, actually. The narrow majority said, “We love you, George!” The narrow minority said, “Get the hell out!” Let’s be honest and say that there were two mandates from the people: “I love you, get out!” It’s like a marriage. No wonder this election was about family values.
Margin of victory? I love this spin: “It’s the biggest margin of victory ever!” Like hell; it’s about average. Don’t just listen to your preachers, kids, look it up. Most popular votes ever? This one is true. George W. swept into office with more popular votes than any president in history.
Just a few random post-election election thoughts:
Blah blah blah, mandate from the people, blah blah blah, margin of victory, blah blah blah, most votes of any president, blah blah blah, most popular president ever. Tired of hearing the same old, same old from those pundits too…let’s not say stupid; let’s say…preoccupied with saying, “We won! We won! Nanny-nanny-boo-boo!” to actually look at some other facts?
Mandate from the people? There were two, actually. The narrow majority said, “We love you, George!” The narrow minority said, “Get the hell out!” Let’s be honest and say that there were two mandates from the people: “I love you, get out!” It’s like a marriage. No wonder this election was about family values.
Margin of victory? I love this spin: “It’s the biggest margin of victory ever!” Like hell; it’s about average. Don’t just listen to your preachers, kids, look it up. Most popular votes ever? This one is true. George W. swept into office with more popular votes than any president in history.
Thursday, November 4, 2004
"Choose Your Own Election" (Column)
This was fun. It also got mentioned on other sites and a few
political sites linked to it. But nobody plagiarized this one. I
greatly enjoyed writing this one. There were calls for a sequel, but I
knew this was a one-time-only deal.
As much as I’d like to have a column written about the election returns, it just wasn’t going to happen this week. Unfortunately, PW goes to press on Tuesday afternoon, long before the results would start to roll in – and possibly days before the winner is decided. But to stay timely, I decided to do a column that would be accurate for every possible Presidential election outcome – a difficult task to be sure, but one whose answer came to me in the form of a series of children’s books. Anyone who went through elementary or junior high school in the early 1980’s might be familiar with the format, which is in the style of the Choose Your Own Adventure series.
If you could figure out how to vote, you should be able to figure out how to do this. I call this Choose Your Own Election #1: The Ballot of Eternity.
START HERE: Did you vote? If you did, go to 1. If you didn’t, go to 19. If you’re too young to vote, pretend.
As much as I’d like to have a column written about the election returns, it just wasn’t going to happen this week. Unfortunately, PW goes to press on Tuesday afternoon, long before the results would start to roll in – and possibly days before the winner is decided. But to stay timely, I decided to do a column that would be accurate for every possible Presidential election outcome – a difficult task to be sure, but one whose answer came to me in the form of a series of children’s books. Anyone who went through elementary or junior high school in the early 1980’s might be familiar with the format, which is in the style of the Choose Your Own Adventure series.
If you could figure out how to vote, you should be able to figure out how to do this. I call this Choose Your Own Election #1: The Ballot of Eternity.
START HERE: Did you vote? If you did, go to 1. If you didn’t, go to 19. If you’re too young to vote, pretend.
Thursday, October 7, 2004
"The Predator Connection" (Column)
For the record, this appeared in print, five days before Saturday Night Live
went over much of the same ground (of course, they didn't have the
Sonny Landham connection, so I've got them there). Unlike the blogger
who ripped off my Iggy Pop reference, I'm not fussing at SNL.
It takes a week to set up and rehearse their sketches. I'm saying I'm
happy that we came up with these ideas about the same time. It's just
that mine saw print before theirs saw air. Don't nobody go saying I
ripped off the Not-Ready-For-Prime-Time-Players. Great (and sick) minds
really do think alike.
With the bread-and-circuses election in California recently, the Left Coast proved once and for all that the liberals out there are not the state’s only wackadoos. The fruits-and-nuts Republicans lined up to throw away their dignity and common sense to cast votes for an aging action star best known for playing a robot. Insert your own Al Gore joke here.
The cable news channels decided that everyone in the country actually gave a damn about who ran that yahoo state, and forced hundreds of mind-numbing hours of coverage on us. It was during some of the hypnotic, droning coverage that I stumbled onto the Predator Connection.
Predator, the 1987 sci-fi actioner, concerned a group of soldiers who ran afoul of a creature whose armor camouflaged itself, allowing him to vanish into the background and attack primarily through ambush – a lot like Gray Davis, but with a less abrasive personality.
Believe it or not, with a credited cast of only ten, Predator has spat out three actors who have run for governor in their home states. Jesse Ventura was first in Minnesota four years ago and this year brought us the Arnold Era. Even Sonny Landham, who played the psycho Indian, Billy, ran for governor of Kentucky in 2002, first as a Republican then as an Independent. He dropped out after a few months, but he ran.*
With the bread-and-circuses election in California recently, the Left Coast proved once and for all that the liberals out there are not the state’s only wackadoos. The fruits-and-nuts Republicans lined up to throw away their dignity and common sense to cast votes for an aging action star best known for playing a robot. Insert your own Al Gore joke here.
The cable news channels decided that everyone in the country actually gave a damn about who ran that yahoo state, and forced hundreds of mind-numbing hours of coverage on us. It was during some of the hypnotic, droning coverage that I stumbled onto the Predator Connection.
Predator, the 1987 sci-fi actioner, concerned a group of soldiers who ran afoul of a creature whose armor camouflaged itself, allowing him to vanish into the background and attack primarily through ambush – a lot like Gray Davis, but with a less abrasive personality.
Believe it or not, with a credited cast of only ten, Predator has spat out three actors who have run for governor in their home states. Jesse Ventura was first in Minnesota four years ago and this year brought us the Arnold Era. Even Sonny Landham, who played the psycho Indian, Billy, ran for governor of Kentucky in 2002, first as a Republican then as an Independent. He dropped out after a few months, but he ran.*
Friday, October 1, 2004
Dr. Ronald Mason, Jr. Interview (President of Jackson State University)
Over about a year, Planet Weekly was doing a series of
interviews with the presidents of the local colleges and universities:
Belhaven College, Millsaps College, Hines County Community College,
Tougaloo College, and Jackson State University. Each school was done by
a different writer (which turned out well), and I was assigned Dr.
Mason of JSU. It is my belief that he has the most dangerous intellect
I've ever seen. He is brilliant and knows exactly what he's saying and
doing. I still remain in awe of his brain.
Dr. Ronald Mason, Jr. became the President of Jackson State University on February 1, 2000. In his five years, he has led the school into a period of growth, economic development, and heightened reputation and respect. In this time, Jackson State has reorganized many of its schools and colleges, reached into the community to create a Jackson State-based technology cluster, and begun sweeping programs to increase economic and community development. The student body continues to grow and more and more alumni of this historic institution are making names for themselves in the world of business, public service, and the arts.
Dr. Mason’s inaugural address was “Rivers of History, Rivers of Hope,” in which he spoke of two rivers that came together in Mississippi, one of white history, one of black history. He compared the conflicts and meshing of two vastly different societies as a confluence of rivers that could drown a people or could lead them to a broader, unified river. The confluence was Jackson State University and the state of Mississippi and the one river – our future together. It was a clarion call to all that he was a man with ideas to implement, and that he believed Jackson State was more than just a place; it had a purpose, one that it must achieve.
Dr. Ronald Mason, Jr. became the President of Jackson State University on February 1, 2000. In his five years, he has led the school into a period of growth, economic development, and heightened reputation and respect. In this time, Jackson State has reorganized many of its schools and colleges, reached into the community to create a Jackson State-based technology cluster, and begun sweeping programs to increase economic and community development. The student body continues to grow and more and more alumni of this historic institution are making names for themselves in the world of business, public service, and the arts.
Dr. Mason’s inaugural address was “Rivers of History, Rivers of Hope,” in which he spoke of two rivers that came together in Mississippi, one of white history, one of black history. He compared the conflicts and meshing of two vastly different societies as a confluence of rivers that could drown a people or could lead them to a broader, unified river. The confluence was Jackson State University and the state of Mississippi and the one river – our future together. It was a clarion call to all that he was a man with ideas to implement, and that he believed Jackson State was more than just a place; it had a purpose, one that it must achieve.
"A Farewell to Johnny Ramone" (Column)
Two things about this column: the first is that when it came out I was well-known for mixing pop-culture with politics. At Planet,
we had a neo-con columnist. He could write very well, but he was also a
tool that didn't know when to shut up. He ignored everything I said to
go online and try to start something, asking if I knew that Johnny was a
Republican. Of course I knew. I'm a Ramones fan. Johnny Ramone was
one of the best-known conservative rockers ever. I don't care. He was a
guitar god and that's what I was writing about. Idiot. The second
point is that I name-checked Ja Rule, and man, did I get that one wrong.
Death and rock ‘n’ roll have always meshed. There is some primal element to rock, and rap, and heavy metal, and the blues that fits neatly with the Great Beyond. The only other aspect of the universe that affects rock ‘n’ roll so much is sex, but that’s because almost every kind of music is about sex: about getting some (rock), about not getting some (blues), about getting it from the neighbor’s wife (country), or getting it gently, romantically, and with candles (folk). Many ancient pieces of music were hymns to God, a celebration of prayer to a higher being, but I believe that some of them were asking for something a bit more earthy. And who doubts that Beethoven didn’t perform his creations hoping to nail that front row fraulein?
Music connects with sex and death more than with just the “gettin’ horizontal” ideas. Musicians of almost every style exist at the center of a triad of “music,” “sex,” and “death”, which is why their lives tend to focus on three things: the music itself, who they sleep with, and how they die. It’s a dramatic, dynamic combination. Understand that these things work in concert – so to speak – and you’ll understand why heavy metal will not lead a kid to kill himself, why rap music won’t make you pop a cap in whitey, and why Goths are simply harmless sorts whose rebellion has the heft of the Bobby Fuller Four fightin’ the law.
(Of course, Bobby Fuller got whacked by the underworld for macking on a Connected Guy’s woman; just another dramatic combination of sex, death, and rock ‘n’ roll, but I digress.)
Death and rock ‘n’ roll have always meshed. There is some primal element to rock, and rap, and heavy metal, and the blues that fits neatly with the Great Beyond. The only other aspect of the universe that affects rock ‘n’ roll so much is sex, but that’s because almost every kind of music is about sex: about getting some (rock), about not getting some (blues), about getting it from the neighbor’s wife (country), or getting it gently, romantically, and with candles (folk). Many ancient pieces of music were hymns to God, a celebration of prayer to a higher being, but I believe that some of them were asking for something a bit more earthy. And who doubts that Beethoven didn’t perform his creations hoping to nail that front row fraulein?
Music connects with sex and death more than with just the “gettin’ horizontal” ideas. Musicians of almost every style exist at the center of a triad of “music,” “sex,” and “death”, which is why their lives tend to focus on three things: the music itself, who they sleep with, and how they die. It’s a dramatic, dynamic combination. Understand that these things work in concert – so to speak – and you’ll understand why heavy metal will not lead a kid to kill himself, why rap music won’t make you pop a cap in whitey, and why Goths are simply harmless sorts whose rebellion has the heft of the Bobby Fuller Four fightin’ the law.
(Of course, Bobby Fuller got whacked by the underworld for macking on a Connected Guy’s woman; just another dramatic combination of sex, death, and rock ‘n’ roll, but I digress.)
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