Thursday, February 23, 2006

just in time to see the Sun RA

if you enjoy your jazz raw and challenging you should check out the jazz spotlite on wgvu fm thats 88.5 and 95.3 fm grand rapids mich show airs sunday 11 am till 3pm not sure if it's streaming online yet This cat is playing everthing from dead cat bounce,chicago art ensemble,northwoods improvisers,kamau dauood,babatunde olatunji to bird, trane,miles,sun ra,


Anonymous Anonymous said...

what was that wild wonderful percussion piece I heard on this show last sunday it was truly mesmerizing

7:15 PM  
Anonymous harmonica man said...

i play a pretty bluesy and somewhat jazzy harp man you into the blues much?

7:16 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The Assimilated Negro
PC or Not PC: that is the question
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
The Relationship Stock Market
I think when you talk about "kids in the ghetto" and what’s missing from an inner-city education, though I didn't learn much about this in my hoity-toity schools either, is knowledge about the financial markets. They don’t teach money or business to young kids. I don’t understand that. In a capitalist society how can you not be showing flash cards of P/E ratios to your children at five years old? It’s not to say build your world around money. But it is the most powerful man made force on the planet. We should know it like the palms of our hands (which I personally know better than the back).

And I don’t think it’s about young folks not being able to handle the information. I think it began with just a simple selfish withholding of knowledge. "This info is privileged." And now that it’s not necessarily [as] privileged, it’s more muscle reflex. Our curriculums have not evolved.

If you ever reclaim the space in your brain, and file for your rebate on useless education, make sure you don't get rid of the money info.

Anyways, I’ve had some recent dialogue with friends about their relationships, and started thinking that perhaps we all buy, sell, and trade on the relationship stock market. If we look at some of our dealings from that perspective, particularly in the romantic sense, there's a lot that makes sense.

The people around you are stocks. Everyone. Male, female, and other. They are forces you can monitor, you can profile and evaluate, you can draw opinions about, you can speculate on, but you can't control. And their value to you may go high, or it may go low. But the bottom line of it all is that:

Past history is no guarantee of future results.

No slick-talking, shucking-and-jiving, TAN stock trader is going to be able to guarantee what TAN is going to do. What value it’s going to hold for you in a month, 6 months, a year, ten tears. They can project, and they can back that up with a world of data, "Look at this chart, says here, 'TAN is the future' - we can't go wrong with TAN. TAN's smart, funny, and wears a mask. His growth potential is HUGE." And they can be right 10, 20, even 30 percent of the time *say ooooohhhh*- it will mean nothing if I rob you the next day for all your jewelry.

Of course, in this world, the only real broker is you. You make all the transactions, you manage your own private fund of relationships. Perhaps you've been investing in short people and negroes for the past five years, and you're seeing no results. Just remember, you don't want to get to caught up in the moment. Have good reasons to sell. Past history is no guarantee of future results. When a movie about short black people comes out, don't be the person calling up all those old friends of yours whom you ditched because other people kept asking, "why do you keep buying in on short people and negroes? Those stock attributes haven't been a growth indicator since the days of Different Strokes and Webster." So you sell, and now you're pissed because you knew the guy from Bad Santa was going to make short negroes hot again.

Now, what was I talking about? Oh, why people and relationships are just money, errr stocks.

So, just like the financial stock market, the thing to do if you just want a good safe investment of your money/heart/time, is to get a little fund of blue chip stocks. Then buy and hold. And the biggest ingredient in terms of evaluating whether a stock is a blue chipper or not? Time.

You need time to find out if this in fact is one of the best companies on the market. Cause with blue chip stocks, you don’t care about the state of the market. Whether they did something particularly good or bad today. You only care about the company. Is it fundamentally strong? Will it grow? Is it stable? What’s the environment around it like? When you get a relationship that clicks on a lot of cylinders, you say ok, I like what’s going on here. I’m going to invest. And you just invest more and more over time. Eventually, your position might be such that you're almost like partners.

This all presumes there are no unforeseen dramatic circumstances. Like someone starts lying and telling secrets, and/or posting your insider information on their blog. Or they start shredding their clothes. Or, like, everyone in the world starts hating them and all of a sudden you look and think Kevin has turned into a bad person. There’s been some sort of shift in the company, with management, and the outlook on Kevin is not looking so bright anymore.

Because ultimately the value of a stock is only really known when you cash out. When the person dies. Or you break up/split. To know the true value of a stock, you have to get rid of lose it. Your blue chip friend of twenty years, you refer to as Disney, might decide suddenly he's into child bestiality. That stock, for most people, is likely going to nosedive. But these things happen, you never know.

Beside the blue chips, you also have penny stocks. For ladies, this is the equivalent of the bum-ass trife mofo you met out late at the club. Actually, not even the club, you met him in the McDonald's after, and you thought he went to the club, but really he was in the McDonald's all night waiting for girls to come out the club and think he was in the club. Most of those penny stocks represent penny companies. But some have potential. I often think TAN is a penny stock. Especially when I'm out on a Saturday night, in McDonald's, waiting for girls to come out the club.

Ok, where was I ...?

I'm going to have to pick this up another time...

The relationship stock market ladies and gentleman. Buy and sell wisely, carefully. Stocks have feelings too.
posted by The Assimilated Negro at 10:43 AM 8 comments

Monday, February 27, 2006
Copyrighting Racism
more TAN as conduit to other stories today....

Damon Wayans is trying to trademark the word Nigga "for a clothing line and retail store," according to Wired...
Wayans Wants N-Word [AlterNet]
Bamboozled! [Morphizm]
(thanks Ali. Z)

Also check out the morphizm proposal to end racism, which is summarized thusly:

The law, in its simplest form, is this: no person may marry within their own "race", "ethnicity", or "tribe" for the next 100 years.
An Immodest Proposal [Morphizm]

posted by The Assimilated Negro at 9:43 AM 4 comments

Friday, February 24, 2006
Please Hammer Don't Blink
nothing fresh and tasty from me today, I'm too busy crying.

But the lovely Ali Z sent me an FYI on two new bloggers of note, both assimilated negroes...

Malcolm Gladwell

MC Hammer

So you can check them out instead. Be sure to let them know TAN has reached the Tipping Point and is definitely 2 legit 2 quit.

posted by The Assimilated Negro at 2:37 PM 3 comments

Thursday, February 23, 2006
The Battle For Racial Supremacy Begins In The Womb
It appears that if you're mixing races when doing the nasty, and planning to have children, you don't have to settle for the child that looks like you just put everything in the pot all at once and let it simmer (though those kids always look pretty), but you can also spit out just white and just black rug rats also. Granted it's a million-to-one chance, but don't tell that to Kylie (19) and her partner Remi (17):

When Kylie Hodgson gave birth to twin daughters by caesarean section, she was just relieved that they had arrived safely.
It was only when the midwife handed them over for her to hold that she noticed the difference between them.

Remee, who weighed 5lb 15oz, was blonde and fair skinned. Her sister Kian, born a minute later weighing 6lb, was black.

more ...

So a nice story for our new colorblind world. I'm sure the father was very proud once he confirmed his wife wasn't sleeping with the United Colors of Benetton (old school son). Now all those kids have to do is get over the fact that their father is seventeen, and his name is Remi, with an emphasis on the "i."

Black and white twins [The Daily Mail]
Meet my twin sister [NY Daily News]
It doesn't count if you're a test-tube baby [Dateline NBC]
posted by The Assimilated Negro at 12:10 PM 12 comments

Wednesday, February 22, 2006
The Emotional Digestive System
I’ve been crying recently, only on Sundays, for the last four to five weeks. Admittedly, I’m going through a tumultuous period of my life. One with a lot of highs and lows. I’ve made some strides professionally. Certainly this blog has been a positive development thus far. It appears I'm being well received as a new voice/writer. Yet, at the same time I've probably never felt more alone. I've never felt more distance from my family than at the current time. And it seems I've lost my close circle of friends, friends who, in many ways, represented my life until a year or so ago. These friends who've known me more than half my life are now becoming memories... and that's sad.

When I think about it, I feel like the crying is a problem. Like there must be some sort of issue with me. If I could choose to cry or not cry, I would choose not crying. But the reality is that I tend to feel better after I’ve cried. Like I just released toxins. Like I took an emotional shit, and I’m ready to shower up and go out, or to sleep, or, you know, whatever. I'm ready to move on.

This made me think about how closely we monitor our digestive system. How we take care to eat, and subsequently shit every day. Drink, and subsequently piss. And those of us who care, we try to watch what we intake.

It seems to me we also have an emotional digestive system. Interaction is how we ingest food. Stimuli is our food and drink. Then we laugh, cry, react and express. The two fundamental means of release are laughing and crying. So perhaps like shitting and peeing, we should be doing them once a day. Or at least once every couple days.

Crying is such an incredibly repressed emotion. It’s weak, vulnerable, unevolved? At the end of last year I had an interesting run where on three consecutive occasions, girls I had relations with cried. And all three occasions were, for the most part, our first physical interaction or hanging out. First time encounters.

The story made an interesting conversation-piece at parties and bars. Was I attracted to crybabies? Was I doing something that warrants crying? To cut a little deeper, was I attracted to an emotional instability? Do my pheromones contain the essence of all the mistakes women have made with regards to guys over the course of eternity?

The stories were discussed, poked and prodded. But no one ever really came to the defense of the criers. Sure, some suggested it might be my fault. We joked about me needing to stop with the punches to the kidney. Or shave. Or try deodorant. Harty har-har (I've since gotten some Axe *cue female moan*). But no one ever asked, what’s wrong with crying? Some said they've experienced dates crying, but never on a first encounter. First encounter crying was most certainly judged as taboo.

And I think in general most of us would raise eyebrows if someone cried on a first encounter.

But you don’t really raise an eyebrow if they take a piss or shit in front of you (might raise an eyebrow for #2). Which, though not desirable, per se, and might even represent a major deal-breaker for some, would be understandable, and not likely mandate a severing of ties for most people. Everyone has to piss and shit, right?

Maybe the problem is you're not supposed to emotionally relieve yourself in public. If the person can’t have the dignity to go to the bathroom, relieve themselves in private, then maybe they deserve to feel that shame. I’d certainly run away from someone who just started peeing or taking a shit on my bed. But if they excuse themselves, and come back obviously “less heavy” … might as well move on right?

Crying holds so much power over us. Crying represents our unknown. We don’t embrace it. It represents our fears. Our lack of confidence. Our lies and deceit. Our loss. Our mortality. Our humility. Our inability to overcome. Our paradox. Our confusion. We hide it. Behind closed doors and sheets of tissue paper, we bury our tears, far away from prying eyes. There's no crying in baseball. The boss can't cry. The only people who cry are overwrought bloggers trying to rationalize their gayness (no homo) via herby posts that are not so much "poignant, as they are thinly veiled attempts to bait females with some generic brand of "emotional cheese" ... etc. etc. etc.

But maybe we can get more comfortable with the crying thing. The release of toxins. What's the big deal?

"Oh Sam? He's just taking an emotional shit. We'll get this meeting underway in just a bit."

And maybe once we get comfortable with it, we can do it more. And maybe once we do it more, we'll find ourselves feeling less emotionally constipated.

Ok. I think that's the extent of the thought for now.

I'm going to go take a crap. A real one.

Please cry for me Blog-entina?
posted by The Assimilated Negro at 10:40 PM 32 comments

Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Music Pot Pourri (MP-P's)
When I was first introduced to Nina Gordon's version of Straight Outta Compton, I was bumping it constantly. And when I didn't have it on repeat, it would always play the Nina Gordon version, then the original NWA version, and then the next song was Strawberry Fields Forever by The Beatles. And I always got a smile out of my itunes having that combination when the songs were listed in alphabetical order. And I wondered if anyone else had the combination, and if they didn't have Compton followed by Strawberry Fields Forever, then what followed Straight Out Compton (cause obviously everyone has that song in their library)...

Since then I've looked at my iTunes library and started to look at swatches of 8-10 songs as a representative crosssection of my musical interests, and I think that should become a new element to identification. Like we ask what are your top five CD's when filling out profiles and such, but this swatch of your library would be even better. For one, you get the random-but-not-random array of artists. But for two, observers can go back to their library, and check their alphabetical order and see what matches, and what they have filling the gaps that you don't. Maybe they have Straight Outta Compton and Strawberry Fields, but also ten other bangers in between.

I think we could call these swatches of alphabetically-ordered song listings iTun Sequiturs (for the special ed TAN readers (we take/love all types here at TAN), this is a play on the term non sequitur). Or, even better, MP Pourri's (hence the title of this post).

There might be better names. But here are a couple of my swatches/iTun sEquiturs/MP-P's:

Lapdance (NERD)
Last Dayz instrumental (Onyx)
Last Freestyle (Big L)
Last Night (The Strokes)
Last Real Ni**a Alive (Nas)
Last Words (Nas)
Lately (Stevie Wonder)
Lean On Me (Bill Withers)

This next one is based around the aforementioned Straight Outta Compton sequence (Nina Simone is a recent addition):

Stolen Moments Pt. 3 (Common)
Stop! In the name of love (Diana Ross)
Straight Outta Compton (Nina Gordon)
Straight Outta Compton (NWA)
Strange Fruit (Nina Simone)
Strawberry Fields Forever (The Beatles)
Stressed Out (A Tribe Called Quest)
Stuck (Wiz)
Stumble on now (Jor-el)

This last one I thought of the song "Wise Up" by Aimee Mann, and figured whatever surrounds that would make for good contrast:

William Hung Mixtape (battle) (William Hung)
Windmills of your mind (Nina Simone)
Window (Fiona Apple)
Wise Up (Aimee Mann)
With A Child’s Heart (Michael Jackson)
With a Little Help From My Friends (The Beatles)
With Or Without You (U2)
Without Me (Eminem)

So don't you know me so much better now? Perhaps now you want to share your own musical swatches with me? Or tell me what slammin' jams I'm missing between "Window" and "Wise Up" ... or some other song combo? And FYI, yes, the William Hung battle joint is pure fire.

holla at ya boy
posted by The Assimilated Negro at 12:35 PM 17 comments

Sunday, February 19, 2006
Sneaker Speakers
Sneaker manufacturer Dada is trying to shake up the industry. After debuting sneakers with spinning rims a couple years ago (they spinnin', they spinnin'!!), Dada is now set to release the "Code M." Darren Rovell on his ESPN blog reveals:

The Code M has an MP3 embedded in the tongue of the shoe. You can download up to 100 songs into the shoe through a USB port. That port also serves to recharge the battery, which has a six-hour life.
You can listen through wireless headphones, or apparently, the sneakers also have speakers.

So now there's really going to be some carnage if fools start stepping on the wrong person's sneakers.

I also like the idea of kicking someone's ass and then while they're lying on the ground, putting your sneaker next to their face with some appropriate song cued up. Like "We Are The Champions," or "Landslide" if the victim is an older lady. Or "Cat's in the Cradle" for some punk with daddy issues.


The Ultimate Shoe [ESPN]
posted by The Assimilated Negro at 10:50 AM 7 comments
About Me

Name:The Assimilated Negro
Location:New York City
What's black and white and read all over???

View my complete profile

These Posts are hot like fire!
Theater of the Assimilated Negro (CD/Audio)
TAN Press Room
TAN Sauna-Like Audio Room
TAN's NeverEnding Interview
100 Things About TAN
Please Steal My Identity
The Quest For The "Negro Hipster"
From Negro To Assimilated Negro
Dear Mr. Lip-Licker
Dear Average-Sized Penis
"Black" History Month
The Blink Don't Wink™ Campaign
Why TAN May Kill Himself For Hip Hop
Jim Crow Jeans, TivNegrO, SlavE-Bay!!
Trends I Started
Does Sex Trump Racism?
Speak With Your Eyes, Talk To The Hand
Arrested For Holding A DVD Trilogy
RIP Richard Pryor
RIP Coretta Scott King
Sex Is Re-Sex
Did They Ever Play The World Series?
PG-13 Material/Apples & Oranges
TAN The SuperNanny
On Passion, Purpose, and Perfection
Salt Water Taffy Sucks
Jolie Kidnaps Mother, Demands Sex
Mrs. Claus Files For Divorce
The Art of Being Unimpressed
"Crash" Review/"Better" Racism
Sir Anthony Hopkins: Negro
Letterman Gunned Down By Leno
Poets Versus Rappers
TAN Quarterly Report
TAN Is For The Kids (Holla!)
Hurricane "What Are You Thinking?"
The Century Club
Why This Thanksgiving Was Different
You Blogging For The Love??? (video)
TAN Guide To Slang, Slurs, & Slander
The Assimilated Negro Commercial
The Blue Room
E-Mail The Assimilated Negro!
Previous Posts
The Relationship Stock Market
Copyrighting Racism
Please Hammer Don't Blink
The Battle For Racial Supremacy Begins In The Womb
The Emotional Digestive System
Music Pot Pourri (MP-P's)
Sneaker Speakers
Drink Up Mama, It's Good For You
Paul Dawson Is My NI**AH - With An "H"
The Dave Chappelle "I'm Not Crazy" Tour Continues
Archive Of Hot Fire
April 1990
May 1990
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006


6:56 PM  

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