i just spit my muffin out from laughter
It’s that season again, friends!
Rest In Peace 1918-2013(via heyfranhey)
UNLOCKING THE TRUTH IS THE MOST BRUTAL SIXTH GRADE METAL BAND EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER
Last Thursday I took the L train to the end of the line and caught up with Unlocking the Truth, a heavy metal trio composed of three sixth graders, Malcolm Brickhouse, Jarad Dawkins and Alec Atkins. We were first made aware of these guys after we saw some of their videos on YouTube, which show the trio absolutelydestroying Times Square. Some people have referred to them as “childcore,” but those people probably can’t play music well enough to appreciate the epic crushiness these 11-year-olds pump out. These guys play seriously brutal metalcore, and they’re better than whatever sixth grade band you were in. This is what we’re talking about:
Does your mom listen to metal too?
Malcolm: No. She listens to R&B.
Jarad: She listens to house music.
Are you guys trying to educate your parents about metal?
Jarad: No. My mom just likes the songs we make. She doesn’t like the songs that we listen to.
Where do you guys get the ideas for your songs?
Jarad: Well, people judge Malcolm about… he wears nail polish and I dealt with it once and I see what Malcolm felt because everybody judged him, but I ignored it and I think he does too.
I see on the wall that you guys have a lot of dates lined up for summer—Webster Hall, Lincoln Center—are those for real?
Jarad: No, those are our imaginary tour dates. Places that we want to go when we get big and successful.
Oh. Huh. Are you guys just into metal or do you like other music?
Malcolm: I’m into metal and pop.
Jarad: I’m into metal and hip hop and R&B.
Alec: I’m into metal and dubstep and pop.
Who are some of your biggest influences?
Jarad: We like to listen to Motionless in White. Malcolm and Alec like Escape the Fate, but I don’t. Mainly my favorite band right about now is Chelsea Grin, a deathcore band. They haven’t stopped touring since 2008, they have an EP called Evolve which I listen to almost everyday.
Malcolm: This is our interview not theirs.
Jarad: I know.
These are the raddest fucking kids, ever.
Do they need roadies? I’ll tune their guitars, I’ll carry their drums, I’ll get them juice boxes, whatever.
Jason Griffin straps his right arm in bandages, preparing himself to grip the reins of a wildly bucking bronco. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a rough beard, he steps into his cowboy boots, fits a Stetson hat and heads out to meet his mount in the rodeo arena.
Griffin is a four-time world champion bareback bucking horse rider — competing in a sport that began in the 19th century heyday of the Wild West.
With each victory — he has also won three all-round rodeo championships — the Texan raises awareness of a strong tradition which is rarely seen in the many novels, films and television series dedicated to the tales of the old West: The historic story of America’s black cowboys.
On cinema screens and paperback covers, the cowboys of old were heroic, hard-bitten and — almost always — white.
In reality, the American West of the 1800s was traversed by an assortment of black, white, Mexican and Native American cattle hands. Contemporary records are rare but historians now estimate that up to one in four Texan cowboys was African American, while the number of Mexican cowboys was even greater.
John Ferguson and Gregg MacDonald’s documentary film — and multimedia project — “The Forgotten Cowboys” follows Griffin and other contemporary black cowboys as they gain a following competing at rodeos and go about their working lives.
London-based photographer Ferguson first became interested in the group 10 years ago while watching a news report in New York about local black cowboys holding a parade. His interest was immediately piqued: “It’s really nice to find something that’s new, isn’t it? They have been around for hundreds of years, but history has forgotten about them.”
During the 17th and 18th century, many slaves were displaced from areas of Western Africa where cattle herding cultures — as depicted in 4,000 year old cave paintings at Tassili n’Ajjer, in the south of modern-day Algeria — had existed for millennia.
But historians say that those who became cowboys in the 19th century joined a new cultural tradition — developed in the company of their European and Native American counterparts — with different breeds of cattle and new techniques.
Life for a black cowboy was tough, explains Michael Searles, Emeritus Assistant Professor of History at Augusta State University, who has edited an anthology of writing on the subject.
"Black cowboys were sometimes expected to do … more than their white counterpart — in other words, some of the roughest work."
"Breaking of stock (taming horses) and getting horses ready to ride each morning was often the work of the black cowboy — where there were black cowboys — and when they had to cross a swollen river to move cattle … black cowboys were the first to cross that river."Searles — known to his students as Cowboy Mike — lectures in a check shirt, bandana and ten gallon hat. He explains that life as a cowboy was still preferable to other roles given to slaves and, later, free African Americans in the South, such as picking cotton on a plantation.
"Many black cowboys, when they were slaves, weren’t treated as you’d think a traditional slave would be treated, because a cowboy needed a lot more independence," said Searles.
Even after the abolition of slavery, prejudice and discrimination were still common — but black cowboys could expect a better relationship with white Americans than many.
Ferguson talks about a “cowboy code” of equal responsibility, teamwork and mutual protection binding today’s cowboys and their black and white ancestors. Mike agrees that a kind of loyalty developed between cowboys of different races — but suggests that cowboys were initially united by necessity.
"If you’ve got nine or 10 cowboys on a cattle drive, you are interdependent with the folk who are riding with you — they can either save your life or they can let you die.
"There are times when you really need the assistance of another cowboy. That was not the place to be too prejudiced or too hostile to the cowboy riding next to you," says Ferguson, the filmmaker.
Asked how the image of the black cowboy disappeared from popular culture, Ferguson points the finger at the Western movie business of the mid-20th century.
"Hollywood played a major part in dismissing the role of black cowboys. In 99% of Western cowboy films, there is no black cowboy."
"America was a divided country — segregation — Hollywood played their part down. Compare Clint Eastwood or John Wayne to the black cowboys. It just doesn’t fit the image. Black cowboy. A hero."
When I was a little girl, some the best bedtime stories my dad would tell were about black cowboys…
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost."
Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)
One of the best pieces I have read on tumblr.
This is absolutely beautiful.(via bjj-seachelle)