Law & Order 101

I shared with you the things I've learned from watching 24. To recap: Don't get kidnapped with anyone who's stupid. Don't vote for a black president. Find out what a schematic is.

So it got me to thinking about what else I've learned from watching some of my favorite television shows, bringing me to one of my favorites, Law and Order.

I'm hooked, thanks to the SO (Significant Other). I used to be all about Criminal Intent, which had my man, Obi-Wan, aka Vincent D'Onofrio. Obi-Wan is hysterical to me because, unlike other police investigators, he doesn't give you normal details about the perp. He's not telling you if a suspect has a drug habit. If they like to beat their wife. No, he says shit like..."she ate tuna because she was nervous." I mean, he comes up with the most oddball-ass characterizations/psychological analysis of people. Examples:

"The sheets...they smell like beets. She farms because it gives her a sense of belonging."

"Notice the way he cocks his head to the side? He does that to get a better view of your feet. He likes toes."

Crazy.

Anyway, I branched out my obsession. Now I watch the regular Law and Order, Special Victims Unit and, old faithful, Criminal Intent. Clever bastards write these shows. And between TNT, USA, NBC, and Bravo, I probably watch at least three L and O episodes a day.

So, I've picked up a lot. I feel as if I can commit the perfect crime, and could handle myself in any interrogation room. Things I've gleaned from the Law and Order franchise:

- Never get on a witness stand if you know you did it. Prosecutor Jack McCoy is a specialist at tearing assholes up on the stand. In fact, I sometimes feel sorry for the witnesses. Even Matlock tried to do it with a little decorum. Jack ain't playing that. Yeah, he's gonna ask you about the night you snuck out of your baby momma's crib with the rent money and her Crown Royal bag. He's going to ask you about the time you put money for one newspaper in the stand, but you took eight of them and sold them for $1 each. Oh, another thing about Jack -- who by the way would make my NCAA Tournament of Gangsta-Ass White men -- is that he offers the most horrible plea deals ever. A meaningless suspect will offer to practically hand Jack the killer and Jack'll say, "OK, give me the killer, his weapon, and wear a wire and I'll reduce it to 30 years." Jack will be handing out 20 and 30-year plea deals like that shit is a gift.

- The people who write L and O are brilliant...but sick. Most crime shows have a plot twist at the end. But L and O doesn't have just any plot twist. It's usually some sick and depraved shit that makes you feel bleak about life. Case in point: This episode last week was about a Dad having sex with his daughter. Plot twist 1: Turns out it was consensual. (Not bad. That happens in Kentucky). Plot twist 2: Dad had impregnated her. (Hey, if you can't trust your daughter not to give you an STD, who can you trust?). Plot twist 3: She was killing the kids she was having by her daddy because she didn't want any. That was enough to have me curling up in the fetal position afterward.

- According to the DA, there is never enough evidence. In real life, if you're just in the vicinity of some shit that went down, you go to jail. On Criminal Intent, Courtney Vance always tells Obi-Wan he doesn't have enough evidence. Obi-Wan will have motive, opportunity, timestamps, receipts, two eyewitnesses, four videotapes, a DVD with the killer's director cuts...and Courtney Vance always says, "that's not enough to convict." WTF? And, as usual, Obi-Wan will just have to get the killer to confess in some wack-ass, predictable interrogation. And even then, Courtney will look at him like, "well, it's not really enough, but I'm going to pretend I can get a conviction since there's only three minutes left in this show."

- Everybody doesn't pull their own weight. The SO hipped me to the fact that, on Special Victims, the real brainacs are Ice T and Richard Belzer. The rest of them don't do shit. Obi-Wan's partner, Eames, just drops one liners as he's doing the real police work. On the early L and O, Old G (Jerry Orbach) did everything. All Ben Bratt did was look pretty.

If You See These Brothas...Just Turn Away

Fredro Starr and Sticky Fingaz, you are under arrest. You have committed unforgivable, awful crimes against cinema. You have earned a life sentence of watching your own horrendous, miserable, terrible-ass movies. No chance of parole.

Wasn't feeling well this weekend, so I spent most of it in bed. Late, late, late, Sunday night, I was treated to a rare, triple feature of some of the worst black movies ever put on screen.

Bad, black movie night started with:



More than likely, you have no idea what this is. It's a dreadful, dreadful picture. You would think any movie with Tina Turner's momma (Jennifer Lewis) would be at least watchable. But this was an atrocity and it's almost two hours of my life that shall never return. First, can we just put an end to barbershop and beauty salon-themed movies? Ice Cube makes two, successful Barbershops and we lose our damn mind. Seriously, we get it. The barbershop and beauty salon are unofficial meeting places in the black community. We like fades and perms. But let's just move on, shall we? Now if we can just stop making bad gospel movies.

After Nora's, came:

A Fredro Star, Stinky Fingaz special. Question: Have either of these two ever been in a good movie? Their acting is as criminal as their faces and rhymes. They play the same role over and over again. Few actors have been as impressively bad as these two. Their combined acting credits include:

Sunset Park

Save the Last Dance

Moesha

Next Friday

Malibooty

Lockdown

In Too Deep

Damn, that's bad. The NAACP Image award people ought to give them a lifetime achievement award or something. Word is, Fredro Starr is going to be play Tupac in a biopic. Hmm. I thought he'd already played 'Pac five or six times.

But Nora's and Ride were just warm-up acts. Showtime decided to bring out the heavy hitter, leveling the viewers with this gem:

Jada Pinkett with a Southern accent. That's all I got to say.

I suppose this was supposed to be a ghetto version of Romeo and Juliet. I still remember when me and my girl, Dej, went to the theatre to see this movie. We were so enthralled by the wiggling ass of Allen Payne that we didn't seem to notice that this movie was shameful. No wonder they decided to cast Angelina Jolie as a black woman.

On the face of it, it shouldn't have been a bad movies. There were some fairly decent actors in this film -- or actors I've seen do good work in other films. Forest Whitaker has been nominated for Academy Awards. True, Jada Pinkett did make Low Down Dirty Shame, but she deserves some credit for how good she was on Different World (despite hurting all our sensibilities with those loud-ass Cross Colors outfits). Bokeem Woodbine is hit or miss, but dude was good in The Sopranos and Dead Presidents.

Anyway, whoever thought it was a good idea to put Treach and Eddie Griffin together in a flick needs their head examined. Those two make Tyrese and Megan Goode look like Meryl Streep and Robert Redford (By the way, I forgot that they also showed Waist Deep with The Game. Moving right along...)

But I guess I can't jump on the black people too hard. It's not like we've cornered the market on bad movies. Varsity Blues came on after that bad, triple feature. Dawson's Creek as a Texan? Hell, even Sticky Fingaz laughed his ass off about that one.

I'm Jack Bauer, Bitch

As I wade my way through the six seasons of 24, expect me to come here and rattle off my thoughts about each season. Yeah, I know, I'm late. I just started watching 24 a few months ago, and just finished season 3, which is the clubhouse leader as my favorite.

Anyway, I realize 24 is so much more than a TV series. It's a useful tool for life. A few of the things I've learned watching 24:

- Jack Bauer is the most gangsta-ass white man ever put before a camera. Seriously, this isn't even an argument. He makes James Bond, Michael Corleone, John McClain, Cool Hand Luke, and Ethan Hunt look like some bitches (Note to self: Do a NCAA tournament of gangsta-ass white male movie and TV characters). As each season of 24 progresses, Jack just gets more and more gangsta. He's one of the few characters ever created that doesn't need to whip your ass to make you fear him. He is just on some different shit. I mean, season 3 ended with Jack chopping his favorite agent's arm off. With an ax. He nearly put a suspect's daughter in the midst of a virus that eats your fucking skin off. He did heroin because MILLIONS OF LIVES WERE AT STAKE. Seriously, dude pisses lead. He'll split Pacman Jones' wig.

- We can never have a black president. Obama, just sit down. Take a cue from David Palmer. You don't want this. You run the risk of being murdered, having nukes and a deadly virus let loose on the country. Your ex-wife may go psycho on you, making Catherine Tramell look stable. Black presidents bring drama. Let the dream die, Obama. Please. For all our sakes.

- Never watch 24 after 8 p.m. Part of the reason you all are treated to this delicious post is because I just finished watching 24 and couldn't get to sleep. Too much adrenaline. I feel like I could do the Running Man to Miami right now. Could you imagine a 24 movie? People would just spontaneously combust right in their seats. In the interest of public safety, Hollywood should be banned from making this movie.

- Don't let yourself be an easily kidnapped human being. Watching Kim Bauer has taught me 4,000 ways I can avoid being taken hostage. No. 1: Don't get into a Scooby Doo van with a couple of greasy-ass guys. No. 2: If you're ever kidnapped with a stupid friend, encourage the bad guys to shoot them. You will live longer. No. 3: Don't babysit for a guy who murders his wife. Bad, bad idea. No. 4: Don't get trapped in a bomb shelter with a dude from Entourage. No. 5: If you're kidnapped more than twice, just kill yourself. You're too stupid to live.

- If the cast of 24 can go days without eating or using the bathroom, then I can do the same for at least 15 minutes. I'm three seasons in and I'm still waiting for someone from CTU to come in there with a double cheeseburger or announce they have to pee. Yep, any episode now.

- There are schematics for everything. And as soon as I figure out what a schematic is, I'll use it.

- If the U.S. government watched 24, the war on terrorism would be over by 4th of July. They'd need the schematics, of course.

- Never move to Los Angeles. Getting cancer from the smog was my biggest concern, but I now see that I could very easily become a victim of biological warfare if I ever considered moving there. I also could catch a nuke in the ass. Not worth it.

Just a few bits of knowledge I picked up watching 24. It will take me far in life.

Um, Tell Me If This Is A Wee-Bit Triflin....

As some of you know, black women go through a lot when it comes to their hair.

It's no secret black women routinely put up with lightweight, trifling behavior for a good 'do. Actually, women do that in general -- black, white or red. If a stylist is the bomb, she can put torsos in the crock pot -- just give us a good 'do.

I've blogged in the past about the African braiding shop I found in O-Town, which is about a quarter triflin'.

The first time I went to this place, a woman that was eight months pregnant did my hair. Straight up, I thought her water was going to burst! And she kept groaning because she was uncomfortable. Her feet were so swollen she asked me if she could rest them on my knee for relief. WTF? But I did need the hair done and pregnant-ass feet was a small price to pay considering the other trials I've gone through to get my hair done.

And then there was the whole "Nigerian Beyonce" thang....

This right here is the rage in Ghanian soaps. Main character's name is Beyonce, and she's the daughter of some king and she's a real BEE-YOTCH. She burned this chick's face with acid for messing with her man. It was deep. Anyway, I was subjected to several hours of this miniseries because it was all the African braiders had as entertainment.

NE-whoo...so it's finally time to get the braids taken down and re-braided. I stopped by the shop and the woman that did my hair told me that she can take my braids down, but on one condition...

I had to pick her and her baby up from the doctor.

Now, it's one thing to be subjected to horrible-ass Ghana soaps. It's one thing to be subjected to food that smells like toes and asphalt (don't know what they were cooking when I was there last, but that shit smelled abominable). It's one thing to have to stare at pregnant-ass feet for six hours.

But picking you and your baby up from the doctor?

WTF????

Am I the baby daddy?

Do I look like a taxi service?

But damn, I did want the 'do did...

OK, so I said yes. But it didn't wind up going down because of some scheduling conflicts I had. I tell you, forget a pimp, it's hard out here for a black woman trying to get her hair down.

Ey, yo, CNN, where you at?

Since so much was made about how black people just tolerate calling each other the n-word, the h-word, the b-word, et cetera, I thought I would take some time to point out that since the great Imus debate about what black people do wrong, CNN and other media outlets have given virtually ZERO coverage to the conversations that have taken place within the BC (the Black Community).

I said at the time that pockets of the black community have been railing against rap, use of the n-word and other things for years, but when black people are trying to actually solve problems within their own community and are doing something positive, nobody cares. Trust me, the next time something goes down, CNN and others will continue on with the played storyline that black people are to blame for the racism against them and we never challenge other black people who corrupt our community.

Exhibit A -- Black folks protest D.L. Hughley.
Not long after the Imus stuff went down, Hughley was on Jay Leno disrespecting the Rutgers team. FYI: Black on black crime is never national news.

Exhibit B -- Russell Simmons and Ben Chavis have made the rounds to a variety of record companies, trying to get them to clean up hip hop. They've been calling for them to ban the n-word, h-word, etc.
Gee, wonder why Paula Zahn hasn't done anything on that.

As I've said a million times, the major networks are not interested in showing black people help themselves. They're interested in what sells. And conflict, degradation and urban blight are box office smashes.

Personally, it was rather ridiculous how black people got blamed for what Imus said. Imus blamed it on hip hop, and I have a hard time believing his old ass ever listened to any hip hop track. The usual MO of racist and prejudiced people is to blame someone else for their problem. But that's the remix racism of '07. Imus calls some women "nappy-headed hoes," it's our fault.

It's funny, black people routinely are lambasted for playing the "victim." Leonard Pitts points out who has really been playing the victim lately.

Duke Lacrosse Guys 5, The Man 0.

I am not one of those black people who keeps a racial scorecard.

I used to. When OJ went down, my initial thinking was, "Good, one for us." But it took time, maturity and experience for me to realize that, bottom line, two people were dead. That's what gets lost in all of this. (For the record, I believe OJ did it or, at the very least, knew who did. But I also believe, based on the evidence, he should have been set free.)

Anyway, initially, I was one of the people who jumped to hella conclusions about the Duke lacrosse boys. I thought: Rich. White. Duke. Black. Women. Strippers. Marginalized. Privilege. It's a wrap. They did it.

But over time, we saw what the deal was, and I've wrote and said publicly, those dudes deserve apologies from a whole lotta people. It's not a shock that there black people who bristle at the guys being found innocent. Not because they don't believe it, but because the Duke lacrosse boys were immediately pumped up to hero status. I've had black folks e-mailing me nonstop wondering why Kobe Bryant doesn't get the same hero treatment as the Duke lacrosse guys. Admittedly, every time I write about KB, I get tons of e-mails calling him a rapist. People look at 24 like he's still guilty. The Duke boys, meanwhile, have become martyrs.

The Duke boys and Paris Hilton has given us an interesting insight when it comes to justice. It just seems to me, that white folks slide so much easier into the martyr role than black folks. Routinely I read about some black man who got let free after 20-some years in the hole. But it seems that whenever black people get the benefit of the doubt from the justice system or trump it, we're still looked at as guilty. OJ Simpson and Robert Blake. Duke boys and Kobe. Even when exonerated, black people are never free of public perception.

And it almost seems as if when white folks are falsely accused, there is an extraordinary effort to make sure everything is fully restored. Take the Duke lacrosse guys. None of them will have a problem getting a job. (And oh, by the way, at Fortune 500 companies, the majority of execs are former college lacrosse guys.) A few of them resumed their collegiate career at other Ivy-league institutions. They've been on 60 minutes. A book is due out soon. The NCAA restored a year of their eligibility, as well as all of their old teammates. Now, the prosecutor who wrongly came after them is aboutt o be disbarred.

So add that up on the scorecard. That's a lot of justice.

Look as much shit as OJ gets, the real truth is that the L.A. prosecutors were overmatched and didn't do their jobs. Me and some other people -- both white and black -- were discussing the case recently and white people fail to admit there were some holes in the case. If the lead cop on the investigation is an utter racist, it's impossible for you not to question his judgment. Again, I think OJ at the very least had something to do with it, but, um, how come the prosecution didn't follow up on the fact there was another shoeprint at the murder scene? See, little stuff like that will get you beat in a court of law.

Anyway, Nifong deserves to get disbarred. But when you look at what's happened in the last year, just about every wrong has been righted. Amazing. Then I look at Genarlow Wilson, the kid from Georgia who is doing 10 years in the slammer for consensual oral sex, and you wonder about the ol' justice scorecard. When he gets released, I wonder if he'll become a martyr, too. Doubtful.

Paris is Dumb. Water is Wet.

I've been meaning to get to this Paris Hilton stuff for days, but the scintillating NBA Finals has just made it impossible.

KIDDING.

Anyway, I was bothered on so many levels by this Paris Hilton saga. One, I just can't believe this heffa is famous. And I don't want to get too sidetracked but the idea that people are "famous for being famous" is just moronic. What the hell does that even mean?

Like most of America, I struggle to understand how PH became such a fixture in pop culture that FOX, MSNBC, CNN -- CREDIBLE NEWS PROGRAMS -- did barrage coverage on Pissy Hilton like it was a presidential race.

That's already bad enough. Even worse is that there were actually people -- people I considered to be fairly sane -- who actually felt sorry for her.

Sorry for her?

Actually, Paris Hilton has been dead to me since this. Although that would imply that there was a time I may have liked her.

If anything, this whole jailhouse fiasco only exposes what a joke the criminal justice system can become when influenced by cash and privilege. If the average person had a DUI on their record and was busted by cops driving with a suspended license AND with their lights out, they'd be making license plates for a minute. If the average person went to jail and refused to eat, they damn sure aren't going to release them. Think Pissy is the first prisoner to come up with the ingenious idea of starving themselves in jail? So what she was crying and hyperventilating. IT'S JAIL. It's supposed to be f-ed up.

And what this further exposes is how much of a joke the criminal justice system is in Los Angeles. OJ, the Rodney King trial, and now this. And what's with this "pay jail" shit? Apparently in the land of Botox, you can pay to have an upgraded cell, where you have a desk and some other amenities. Hell, for all I know, you might even get rewards points. Stupidest concept ever. But, that's LA. And this is Pissy Hilton.

You Call That A Finale? I Coulda Had A V-8

I'd like to think I'm not one of those people who believes that everything's got to make sense at the end.

I don't mind mystery. I don't mind a little intrigue. I'm OK with not knowing. But on tha real...

The series finale of the Sopranos was some bullshit.

I didn't need to see Tony whacked. In fact, I felt all along the Big One was going to live. Wouldn't make sense to kill Tony. That would be cliche, easy. Some big, bloody shootout at the end doesn't take much thinking. However...

Neither does this ending -- the I'll-just-let-you-all-come-up-with-your-own-conclusions bit. C'mon, David Chase. As Mark Jackson says. You're better than that. I get the coming the full circle, thing. Tony is always going to be fucked up, selfish, sensitive, caring and egotistical. I fully understand that. Carmela is always going to be a reincarnation of Tony's mother. A.J. is always going to be the asshole son of a rich mobster. Meadow is always going to be the naive, smart one, who remains removed from it all, but you get the feeling a killer instinct lurks. Life goes on. People don't change, circumstances do. Yada, yada, yada.

But considering the last couple episodes of the Sopranos were moving us toward something, it just seems lame and ridiculous to end the series on, "They are exactly who we thought they are." That didn't feel like a series finale. That felt like episode 6 of a 24-episode season. It felt like a ploy to get more money, to get HBO to open the coffers and pay everyone a ridiclous amount of money for a return, to drum up movie offers, or a DVD deal where Chase can unleash the several other endings he shot and make millions off our need to know.

I'm amazed at Sopranos fans who are trying to turn this ending into some kind of netherworld, metaphorical, symbolic, artistic, dressed-up crap. Like it was so brilliant because we don't know what happens. Look, I realize that the overall theme of the Godfather was sacrifice. Life did go on for Michael Corleone, but over time, he lost more and more and no matter how much good he tried to do, he always had the heart of a killer. Corelone lost one brother, killed another, lost his wife, his unborn child, etc. That was compelling. I thought, until the finale, they were pulling this off brilliantly with the Sopranos. Tony lost Dr. Melfi, Chris, Bobby, etc. His losses kept getting heavier and heavier, and his killer instinct sharpened. He was getting colder.

Call me ridiculous, but I just needed something more than, "it is what it is." Usually, when you're on the decline as Tony seemed to be, your losses catch up with you in some kind of significant way. Tony had done too much to really go back. Mob movies can't be about symbolic endings. They have to be about consequences. Which is why I thought it was possible Tony might lose one of kids (Personally, I was hoping for AJ because he's a directionless prick). Maybe he would lose Carmela. It didn't have to be through bloodshed. But considering all the things Tony had done, even in the last couple of episodes, how could the ending realistically be...it is what it is?

I call bullshit. Not brilliance.

Never Come Between A Man And His Quesadilla...

I know you're looking at the title of this blog and wondering...

What. The. Hell?

A little history, first: This is actually my third blog. The first one was shut down because of stupidity (long story). The next one has a pulse, but I came to the realization that it wasn't as fun as the original product. It wasn't as easily accessible. Going private just didn't give me the same rush.

So I had to make a choice: Be me or be less me? Like David Chase did with the final, whack-ass episode of the Sopranos, I chose to stay comfortably in the middle. I'm still me. Just more aware that me has several pairs of eyes on her and me will be a lot more careful than I was before. We'll still have fun, kick it and do the grown thang...but a tweak here or there never hurt. Besides, I got bills to pay. I can't lose my job over some bullshit.

Anyway, as for why this blog is named what it is, well, that's actually a funny-ass story. A slight rip-off, too.

And yes, the Antoine Walker I'm referring to is the one who plays for the Miami Heat. A friend told me about how his quesadilla was once eaten by a bomb-sniffing dog at the arena. I did clown Antoine a bit 'cuz he happens to be one of the chunkier members of the NBA. Then, my friend goes, "you know what? That'd be a cool name for a blog: Antoine Walker's Quesadilla."

I concur.

So, here we are. Not new, but definitely improved. Smarter. Wiser. Stupider. Hope y'all enjoy. The page is still under construction, so don't bitch. Now, that I'm out from the mattresses, expect a lot more.