Helen H. Moore's Blog, page 200

New ways of looking at the Beatles’ biggest disaster, “Magical Mystery Tour”

Magical Mystery Tour by The Beatles (Credit: Capitol)

The consensual first misstep in the Beatles’ career occurred the day after Christmas, 1967. In England, this is what is known as Boxing Day, when the postman and others in the service industries, however broadly defined, can expect to receive a present in a box — or they once could, anyway. It’s a big shopping day, a big post-Christmas sit-around-and-bask day, and an ideal day for some light television entertainment.

It was into that market that the Beatles wished to step as their once glorious 1967 campaign drew to a close. The year had begun with their release of the finest single we have, in “Penny Lane”/”Strawberry Fields Forever,” then reached a zeitgeist-bending high water mark in the early summer with “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” Later in that summer, manager Brian Epstein died.

Lacking their rudder, in a sense, at least insofar as outside-of-the-studio decisions went, the band attempted to regroup by making a film on their terms. Their first two cinematic forays, “A Hard Day’s Night” (1964) and “Help!” (1965) were largely steered by others, with the former managing to meld itself into a glorious piece of top-end, artful cinema, the other being far patchier and flawed, but esoteric and esoterically watchable. Give it another try sometime — it has aged well.

But then we have that first post-Epstein movie venture, “Magical Mystery Tour,” the Boxing Day would-be treat that went way, way wrong. If you read any Beatles history that covers their entire career, you will encounter much condemnation of this film. I would venture that there are many critics who consider it the worst thing they ever did, and by a decent margin at that.

For a while, I didn’t watch it. I had some early screenings of the film, having been indoctrinated in the standard commentary about it, and that was enough for me. But seeing it again recently, and then a couple more times after that so as to make sure I hadn’t lost my own plot in terms of critical thinking, I couldn’t help but think this film is actually pretty damn ballsy — pretty flawed, but there is real cinematic worthiness here.

One thing you can’t get around: This film starts the end of the Beatles. There is basically no script, with the Beatles deciding to, in effect, hire out a bus, put a bunch of people on it, zoom around the countryside, tape what were akin to several early music videos, and push John Lennon’s presence to the forefront of the film for some reason, even if it feels like Paul McCartney’s pet project.

McCartney was the auteur for this endeavor. He watched lots of surrealist films, was up to speed with the French New Wave, so think of him as the Liverpool student film version of Godard. All the Beatles get credit for directing, along with the unbilled Bernard Knowles, but this was McCartney’s progeny. He was a leader, for better or worse, with “Magical Mystery Tour“ serving to rally the troops.

The Beatles must have thought they could have done no wrong, and it is not for nothing that I hear Lennon’s line of “And so it’s true pride comes before a fall” from “I’m a Loser” when I watch this production. But it’s invigoratingly relaxing, like the movie version of a joint, I suppose, and invigoratingly meta. And it’s bonkers funny, if you sit back and allow it to be.

For instance, we have Ringo Starr’s horrible acting chops. This is odd, because he was excellent in “A Hard Day’s Night.” His post-hangover scene along that dreary trench, with the truancy boy, is as affecting as anything in the movie, perhaps because he was acting naturally — ha — on account of his real hangover, not really giving a toss how the scene played, which ended up making it feel more real.

In “Magical Mystery Tour,” Ringo is on the coach with his recently widowed Aunt Jessie. He has some scripted lines, but you could not convince me that some of them are not made up on the spot, like when he starts busting her chops about her recently deceased husband. WTF Ringo?!

Even Aunt Jessie wants to crack up, it’s so out of nowhere. Later, Ringo is a wizard, because apparently it was important to have a group of these beings — played by Beatles, of course — oversee this oh-so-important bus trip. We are talking low, low-rent wizards. Ringo drops his magic wand, and they don’t even bother to reshoot the scene. Eh, just pick it up then, you wanker. And he does.

There are a lot of references to “A Hard Day’s Night.” They are clever. One involves a Muzak version of “All My Loving” during a courtship scene for Ringo’s aunt, enacted on a beach. It’s a funny, druggily choreographed dance sequence. The conversion of Beatles songs to Muzak was intriguingly efficacious in lending gravity to the picture, making us feel that these people, so new upon the scene, were writers of standards, for it is normally standards that get the Muzak treatment.

It’s nice to play off of that in “Magical Mystery Tour,” which also reprises Lennon’s “rule Britannia” quip from the bathtub sequence in “A Hard Day’s Night.” He’s strong in this film, providing, for the first portion, anyway, narrative voiceover in a singsong voice with words that could have been sourced from his 1964 book of what we’ll call inspired nonsense, “In His Own Write.”

Lennon’s speaking voice was like Orson Welles’: You don’t need him to sing the phone book, he could just read the names and you’d be transfixed. As we roll along, increasingly surreal versions of everyday events happen: a road race on foot that Ringo wins in a bus; a manic segment with an army recruiter; Aunt Jessie being fed shovelfuls of pasta. The placidity comes from the sensation of hanging out with these guys, like in a post-turkey-dinner haze, as you’re drifting off in your chair.

Visually, it’s a very passive film. What is curious, then, is that it’s anything but, when the music starts up. Consider, for instance, the “I Am the Walrus” sequence. It has been said that this is the Beatles’ most nonsensical song, but I hear it as the converse of that, a quite practical musical application of identity, what it means, how shifting it can be as we try to understand what ours is.

Ringo starts the action — and it is action — of this sequence with a rapid, violent, opening fill on his drum kit in a field. Apart from the race to catch the train — and evade fans — that begins “A Hard Day’s Night,” this is the most energetic of all Beatles moments on film. Lennon looks like he was born just to execute his part, which is made all the better on account of the editing. The Beatles buzz about the frame, with varying degrees of costuming, alterations in how they wear that costuming, like Lennon’s head-wrap that makes of him, of course, an eggman. The animal masks the band don in this field provide something talismanic and Druidic. It’s creepy, bold, powerful, surging, a song with a chant that all but urges one to embrace one’s inner oddness.

The editing makes you wonder why they could do this, but not rein in other aspects of the film with a firmer touch. It all just kind of pools, flowing in one direction here, another there. You can have it on in the background for days, provided you have a firm enough grasp on reality that you, too, don’t flow down the drain and into the soft, almost washed-out colors of this film.

But the British public threw a hissy fit. The Beatles, essentially, had to apologize for foisting this on everyone. McCartney blamed it on the band being new to making their own films, which was true enough. The backlash, though, was more about their temerity in thinking that, hey hey, we’re the Beatles, people love everything we do!

But I don’t think they thought that. You know how it is when you’re a teenager, and you’re figuring out who you are, and you kind of let sides of yourself show that you would not have before? That’s what the Beatles, in my view, were doing here, now that they were “grown up” — that is, on their own, sans Epstein.

This film was the dreamy, druggy, indulgent portion of their post-Pepper id. I like that it had free rein. Next would come bigger things — like the White Album — that I’m not sure they would have had the confidence to do if they hadn’t struck out on their own like this and survived, shape-shifting pornographic priestesses of the British plains and rural motorways.

5 questions to ask before you get your kid a phone

(Credit: Getty/dolgachov)

You’re on your way to pick up your kid after school, and traffic is crawling or your train is delayed or your car breaks down. If only your kid had a phone, you could tell him you’ll be late. It’s moments like these that lead many parents to get their tweens or teens their first phones. But even though the convenience is compelling – and your kid has probably been begging for one – how do you know he’s really ready?

If you’re considering a smartphone for your kid, you’ll need to think through a few things, from who will pay for it to whether she’s responsible enough to use it appropriately. But once you decide to take the plunge, start the conversation with these five questions. Also, consider requiring your kid to complete Digital Compass (a Common Sense Media game that teaches digital citizenship) before handing over the device.

Why do you want a cell phone?

The answer to this question will help you understand what to expect once she gets the phone and where she might need some limits. Does she want to text with friends? Or play Crossy Road for hours?

Do you understand the rules your family and school have for phone use?

Most kids know they have to answer yes to this question, but it can help start the conversation about your family and school’s expectations around how the phone is used, from whether they can download apps without permission to how they can or can’t use the phone in the classroom. Be sure to discuss the consequences if rules are broken.

What are some concerns you think your family and teachers have about phones?

This question helps you understand what your kid thinks are the main sources of tension around kids and phone use. You can use this conversation to clarify any of your concerns, such as how often your kid is on the phone, whether he uses social media apps, and how to handle a call or text from a stranger.

What are five places it’s not OK to use your phone?

Phone etiquette and safety are ongoing conversations, since kids will be experiencing some phone situations for the first time. But this is a good time to lay down the absolute basics, like no staring at your phone when Grandma’s talking, no taking photos in locker rooms, no phones at the dinner table, and so on.

What will you do if you lose or break your phone?

Unfortunately, this is a real possibility. Talk about whether the phone will be replaced and, if so, who pays for it. Is insurance an option? Discuss options for preventing loss or breakage.

Lorde pulls planned concert in Israel due to pressure from anti-Israel groups

(Credit: Getty/Rawpixel)

The New Zealand singer Lorde has cancelled a planned concert in the Israeli city of Tel Aviv due to an outcry from fans who are critical of that country’s human rights record.

The news of Lorde’s cancellation came from the concert producer Naranjah, according to The Jerusalem Post. The company released a statement saying that they “sadly” needed to announce that she had cancelled her appearance and that Lorde would explain more about the situation on Twitter. One of Naranja’s founders, Eran Arieli, asked Lorde’s Israeli fans to forgive her in a Facebook post on Sunday and argued that it was  “naive to think that an artist of her age would be able to face the pressure of appearing in Israel.” He also denounced “the army of globalists and anti-Semites” who he blamed for pressuring Lorde.

The source of the initial outcry was a tweet by Lorde last week that listed a series of planned concerts in Russia and Israel.

MOSCOW

All Donald Trump wants for Christmas

(Credit: Getty/Saul Loeb/artisteer/Salon)

I was walking through Target, snatching up doll babies and action figures for an East Baltimore toy drive. It’s my favorite part of the holiday season, having the chance to help buy toys for children who may have not received any gifts. Everybody deserves to open up something during the holidays, right?

Like most people who aren’t clever enough to order online and just pick up their merchandise, I waited behind at least a dozen holiday shoppers in line to check out. The couple in front of me — two lanky 40-somethings — went on and on about Trump being the Grinch who stole Christmas. I didn’t butt into their conversation, but I disagree. Trump isn’t the Grinch, he’s always happy — you can tell from his tweets, which he punctuates with exclamation points of joy. Plus, right now he’s high off the Republican Congress passing his tax bill, making him the greatest President ever, in his opinion.

And to prove this happiness to my fellow citizens, I’m going to share President Trump’s letter to Santa — or at least what I think it would say. (Read it in Trump Voice for desired effect.)

Dear Santa,

First, I’d like to say that you are very very tired, and really sad. I’ve been writing to you for over 65 years and you have yet to respond. This will be my last attempt until my next attempt.

Listed below are things I need, and what I deserve. I expect to receive everything in a timely manner.

The Wall. I’d like a beautiful wall, a strong tall wall seasoned with the best, only the best, anti-MS-13 repellent. Please make Mexico pay for it.

For Donald Jr., a “No Snitching” tattoo across his chest. Please don’t let my namesake, who has a very good name, be a rat.

Trade Mike Pence for Vladimir Putin. Pence blinks too much and it’s weird, he is tremendously not fun.

No taxes for the top 1 percent. They work too hard at making America great, they shouldn’t have to pay taxes and under me they won’t, only the poor deserve that.

Lock Hillary up. She’s crooked, she lost, she’s a very bad hombre, throw away the key.

A Robert Mueller scandal. Put some fun in his life, he thinks about me too much.

Melania, my wife, she’s very beautiful, you know, finally a ten in the White House. She’s very classy. She doesn’t care about my tax plan. She’s reading to sick kids, you know how I feel about germs, so if my daughter Ivanka, she’s very beautiful, very successful, if she could spend more time in my office reading to me and less time with Jared and his lawyers that would be really really nice.

Framed portraits of Barack Obama, Sean Hannity and Vladimir Putin. What can I say, they complete me.

An apology from LaVar Ball and a thank you from LaVar Ball for being his biggest inspiration and saving his son.

An edited version of my personal taxes from the years 1970-2016. I’m really really tired of people asking about them.

An end to fake news. It’s time for the failing New York Times to really fail, and CNN and the very bad people of liberal media to be tucked away and hidden like my taxes. Take that loser Alec Baldwin, washed-up Meryl Streep and the failing Rosie O’Donnell as well.

Santa, you are very fat and very old, but very responsible and valued by me, only I can value you. I think you can pull this off, and if you do I’ll be a tremendous boy in 2018. If not, you will continue to be really sad.

Make America Great Again,

Your President, Donald J. Trump

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Joan Walsh will move to CNN after MSNBC contract not renewed

Joan Walsh, a political analyst on MSNBC, and former editor in chief and columnist of Salon, revealed on Saturday that her contract with MSNBC had not been renewed. She had been with the network for 12 years.

Walsh shared the news with nearly 299,000 fans on Twitter, shedding more light on what happened.

“I learned Friday night they are not renewing. I’ve given my heart and soul to the network, from the George W. Bush years through today. I’m proud of the work I did,” Walsh said on Twitter. “Yes, it’s Christmas weekend. I was baking pies with my daughter, who is home for the holidays, when I got the news. It didn’t feel too good. But all of your support helps, a lot. I’m grateful to the people who have fought for me.”

A few hours later though, she revealed that she’ll be heading to CNN in 2018.

I am overwhelmed by the support I've received today from all of you. And I'm thrilled to tell you I'll be heading to @CNN in the new year. Thanks to everyone who made this happen. A Christmas miracle.

— Joan Walsh (@joanwalsh) December 24, 2017

A spokeswoman at CNN confirmed to the New York Times that Walsh will be joining as a commentator.

When news first broke about Walsh’s unexpected departure many people took to Twitter to voice their opposition, like Katie Couric, who used the hashtag #KeepJoanWalsh.

Ugh. Love Listening to Joan. #KeepJoanWalsh ❤️ https://t.co/w4ZTT1O7R6

— Katie Couric (@katiecouric) December 23, 2017

More women shared their stories about how Walsh played a significant role in their careers, noting it was a strange time for MSNBC to let go of a leading feminist voice.

Many women citing @joanwalsh as an early champion; I’m among them. She encouraged me to write from feminist perspective more than a decade ago as an editor @salon. Strange time for MSNBC to jettison someone who’s long been committed to making space for & promoting other women.

— Rebecca Traister (@rtraister) December 23, 2017

@joanwalsh led Salon at a time when many of the young female journalists working for her were finding our voices and learning critical leadership skills. Joan pushed us and championed us. As @rtraister notes, it’s an odd moment for @msnbc to let go of a leading feminist voice.

— Lori Leibovich (@lorileibovich) December 23, 2017

I'm one of many people – WOMEN – who benefited from @joanwalsh's mentorship, wisdom and support. The reason this is getting so much traction is that it's a travesty (and feels like a slap in the face to women at this time, frankly). https://t.co/xiguflQN26

— Rachel Sklar ❄️ (@rachelsklar) December 23, 2017

In a statement, according to the New York Times, MSNBC called Walsh “a key voice on MSNBC for years” and cited an annual review as the reason for not renewing her contract.

“Every year we review our paid contributors list across the ideological spectrum,” the statement said. “Unfortunately we couldn’t renew Joan, but she and her distinct perspective will still be invited on our shows.”

An NFL star’s tragic death reminds us of brain aneurysms’ toll

(Credit: AP Photo/Michael Ainsworth, File)

The late NFL tight end Konrad Reuland and baseball Hall of Famer Rod Carew became forever linked when Carew, who needed a new heart, received Reuland’s. Reuland suffered a brain aneurysm on Nov. 26, 2016 and died two weeks later. Medical experts and sports historians believed it to be the first heart transplant operation between two major league athletes, and the story of Reuland’s gift and Carew’s recovery touched the hearts of fans across the country.

Reuland’s decision just a few months earlier, as a 20-something who appeared to be the very picture of health, to check the organ-donor box on a driver’s license form, changed not only the course of Carew’s life but those of two other people who received Reuland’s liver and kidney. Carew, who played for the Minnesota Twins and California Angels and ended his career with 3,053 hits, received the other kidney. Carew had suffered a major heart attack in 2015 and had been placed on a waiting list for a heart transplant.

Carew, whose jersey number was 29, did not know at the time of his surgery on Dec. 16, 2016 that he was receiving Reuland’s heart, and Reuland’s family did not know who the recipients of the 29-year-old’s organs would be. Reuland died Dec. 12, 2016.

But Mary Reuland, Konrad’s mother, figured out the connection between Carew and her son a few weeks later. She had read about the lifesaving heart transplant that Carew received four days after Konrad’s death, and several people had asked her if she thought Carew could have been the recipient. Curious, Mary Reuland called the organ donation network, which matched Konrad’s heart to Carew. She learned that her son’s heart was in fact the one that saved Carew’s life. The families met less than three months later, and Mary Reuland listened with a stethoscope to her son’s beating heart inside Carew’s chest.

Rod Carew and Mary Reuland, Konrad’s mother, at a news conference in Anaheim, Calif. in April 2017.

AP Photo/Chris Carlson

As a medical professional and sports fan, I was deeply moved by these events. But as a neurosurgeon who specializes in brain aneurysm, I was deeply pained at the news of how Reuland lost his life: Reuland suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm after lifting weights. He had been with his family for Thanksgiving, and they were decorating their home for Christmas. Reuland didn’t live to see the holiday. He had brain surgery in late November to try to repair the burst aneurysm. Just two weeks later, he succumbed in a way all too familiar to me.

There is no evidence that brain aneurysm is related to traumatic brain injury. So how is it, many may wonder, that a young athlete in phenomenal shape could suddenly develop a deadly condition?

From out of the blue

An aneurysm is a weak spot on the wall of an artery.

An aneurysm occurs in a weak spot in the wall of an artery. Sometimes, that weak spot expands, almost like a water balloon.

Designua/Shutterstock.com

The Brain Aneurysm Foundation estimates that 6 million people, or one in 50, have an unruptured brain aneurysm. Aneurysms can be detected by imaging, but screening imaging is not recommended unless there are symptoms or there is a strong family history of brain aneurysms. Over time, the weak spot expands almost like a water balloon. If it keeps expanding, it will eventually reach a breaking point and burst. The causes are largely unknown. Some may be hereditary.

Aneurysms can form anywhere in the body, but brain aneurysms occur in the blood vessels of the brain, usually at the base. Aneurysms tend to form at branching points where blood vessels diverge.

Brain aneurysms affect young and old, rich and poor, those with a family history of aneurysms and those without.

They typically strike without warning, and 50 percent of the time prove fatal, throwing families into shock and sudden grief. Four out of five people who suffer a brain aneurysm have no family history of it. There is some indication in the research that smoking puts you at higher risk, and that aneurysms disproportionately affect women.

But no one knows for sure what causes brain aneurysms, which affect up to 5 percent of Americans and result in 30,000 cases of ruptured aneurysms each year.

Symptoms of a brain aneurysm include headaches, double vision, vision changes, seizures or other neurological changes.

The real problem occurs when the aneurysm ruptures.

Patients with a ruptured aneurysm experience bleeding in the brain called subarachnoid hemorrhage, which is a type of stroke. Such patients may feel an overpowering “thunderclap” headache. They may die suddenly or be found comatose. When a patient has a ruptured aneurysm, we try to treat it so that it doesn’t rupture again. If it ruptures a second time, there is an 80 percent chance of death.

A devastating disorder

The statistics for this devastating disorder are grim: When a brain aneurysm ruptures, there is a 15 percent chance of death before even getting to a hospital. Of those who survive, there is a 30 to 50 percent chance of permanent disability, ranging from severe brain damage to more mild cognitive difficulties. Many are unable to return to work.

Current research in the field of cerebral aneurysm points to inflammation as a possible cause for aneurysms to arise. Here at the University of Florida, my laboratory is investigating the role inflammation may play in the development of aneurysms.

My laboratory is studying how the dynamics of blood hitting those blood vessel branching points at the base of the brain can cause inflammation. We are examining how inflammation causes weakening of a blood vessel, which we believe causes the aneurysm to develop.

We are also studying different types of inflammatory cells that cause aneurysms to rupture, so that we may work toward a goal of developing a drug treatment to fight those inflammatory cells. We are studying cytokines, or molecules that send signals, control the activities of cells and recruit those inflammatory cells to the weak part of the blood vessel. We are investigating ways to treat aneurysms by turning inflammation on or off.

While my team vigorously pursues that work in the lab, here is what I see at the hospital: patients who come in with “the worst headache of my life” – who literally had no foreshadowing of what was to come. In those cases, the aneurysm may have already ruptured.

Patients diagnosed with an unruptured aneurysm often learn of it incidentally. Maybe they came in for double vision or headaches. Maybe it was cranial nerve palsy, or, in rare cases, a seizure.

Patients with an aneurysm may undergo surgery. This involves opening the skull and pinching off the aneurysm with a metal clip. Or they may receive endovascular treatment, in which I thread a small tube through an artery in the leg all the way up to the brain to fill the inside of the aneurysm with soft packing wires called coils or place a stent, a metal mesh tube.

Every day, I see the devastating consequences of this mysterious and tragic condition.

It not only affects individuals. It affects families. It affects communities.

My goal is to identify the cause – and to pursue preventative and therapeutic treatments.

Brian Hoh, M.D., Professor of Neurosurgery, University of Florida

Trump’s reported atrocious rants about immigrants revealed in new report

(Credit: AP/Jorge Silva)

Donald Trump has been anything but secretive about his racist beliefs from his frequent anti-muslim tweets to, most recently, calling immigrants “the worst of the worst” in a speech to FBI graduates. But a new report in the New York Times shares more incredibly disturbing details about what he’s, as described in the report, allegedly “grumbled” behind closed doors in the White House.

It all started in June, according to the report, when Trump “stormed” into the Oval office, “plainly enraged” about how many foreigners had come into the country since January. According to officials who attended the meeting, or were briefed on it, Trump reportedly read aloud from a document which listed how many immigrants got visas to enter the U.S. in 2017.

The report detailed the following sequence of events that he allegedly read as he made his way down the list:

“More than 2,500 were from Afghanistan, a terrorist haven, the president complained.

Haiti had sent 15,000 people. They “all have AIDS,” he [Trump] grumbled, according to one person who attended the meeting and another person who was briefed about it by a different person who was there.

Forty thousand had come from Nigeria, Mr. Trump added. Once they had seen the United States, they would never “go back to their huts” in Africa, recalled the two officials, who asked for anonymity to discuss a sensitive conversation in the Oval Office.”

As the meeting continued, according to the report, former Secretary of Homeland Security, John F. Kelly, and Secretary of State, Rex W. Tillerson, tried to interrupt and explain to Trump that many “many were short-term travelers making one-time visits.” This led to the blame falling on Tillerson though, according to the report. Eventually, Kelly reportedly asked everyone in attendance to leave the room because it got too heated.

The Times contacted the White House press secretary, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, about the alleged derogatory statements during the meeting which she denied on Saturday.

“General Kelly, General McMaster, Secretary Tillerson, Secretary Nielsen and all other senior staff actually in the meeting deny these outrageous claims,” she said in the statement. “It’s both sad and telling The New York Times would print the lies of their anonymous ‘sources’ anyway.”

According to the report, a few participants in the meeting told Times reporters that they didn’t recall the president using words “AIDS” or “huts.” But the two officials, according to the report, who recalled the event to The Times, “found them so noteworthy that they related them to others at the time.”

What to say to your kids after “The Last Jedi”

Star Wars fans waiting for the premiere of "Star Wars: The Last Jedi" (Credit: AP/Joel C Ryan)

Star Wars fans who are eager to catch up with Rey, Finn, Poe, and the other characters from The Force Awakens are sure to love Star Wars: Episode VIII The Last Jedi, which picks up right where the last movie left off. The epic middle installment of the current trilogy has thrilling sci-fi action, as well as several strong female characters, notable diversity within the Resistance, and strong messages of courage, teamwork, hope, and loyalty — all of which gives families plenty to talk about. Try these topics/questions to get started:

Talk about the violence in Star Wars: Episode VIII The Last Jedi. Do scenes of explosions and space battles affect you differently than those of close-up, one-on-one lightsaber duels and killings? Why do you think that is? What makes more of an impact: violence or loss? Why? How does this movie handle both topics?
Who are the movie’s heroes? How are they role models? Do they demonstrate courage and teamwork?
How is diversity — and the lack thereof — used to indicate the values of the opposing sides of the conflict in the Star Wars series? Why is it notable that the First Order has very little diversity, while the Republic has a lot of it?
Did you notice the strong female characters in the movie? How has the world of Star Wars changed in this respect since the original trilogy (or even the prequels)?
Talk about the themes from the previous movies that repeat themselves here. Why are issues of good vs. evil, mentorship, etc., so important to this series? How do they play out on-screen?

This “cool black girl” is gone

(Credit: Getty/Salon)

“I have a tattoo of a Confederate flag,” my date tells me. I look up from my coffee in disbelief.

In his defense, he says it sheepishly, like he’s confessing something he knows he should be ashamed of.

In my defense, he says it at all like he’s asking for an absolution I should never grant.

I stutter, and he rushes on, assuring me he was from Texas and got it out of Texan pride, not any other association. I don’t ask why he didn’t just get a Texas flag tattoo.

He promises me that he has only used the “n-word” once in his life, when he was young, and his mother slapped him so hard he never used it again. I don’t ask if the fear of being slapped is still the only reason he doesn’t use it.

He prefers dating black women; he says this like it’s a compliment. I don’t ask if they prefer dating him, or if when they see his tattoo under his shirt they recoil.

He looks at me and levies the accusation that I fear most in moments like this: “I feel like you’re treating me like I’m racist.”

A few years ago, Gillian Flynn popularized the concept of the “cool girl” in her novel “Gone Girl,” where she explained the unrealistic social expectations that women were supposed to fit into in order to be desirable to men — one that required they embrace sports, unhealthy food and casual sex, abhor commitment and above all else conform to conventional standards of beauty.

Black girls have our own version of the cool girl. The cool black girl is urban but not hood. She’s down enough to use slang her white friends will want to poach, but won’t embarrass them by sounding too black. She’s willing to date white men, but is unbothered when they don’t want to date her. She’s unflinchingly patient and endlessly supportive of the white women around her. And above all else, she never — ever — makes a white person feel uncomfortable about race.

I used to be the coolest black girl.

Accusing someone of racism — particularly when that person is saying things that make them sound racist — is the cardinal sin for a cool black girl. So I dig deep into my cool black bag of tricks and bond with him over an obscure TV show. We laugh. It’s no longer awkward, at least not for him. It had already become incurably awkward for me, but that’s OK. Cool black girls are, after all, still black girls, which means we’re stronger than everyone else. We can take it.

He texts me after that date, and maybe it’s the expectation in that text that we would hang out again or the three texts that followed the first, showing he didn’t even suspect maybe I was ignoring him. As though there were no reason that I may reject him. Maybe it was just me.

I lose my cool.

“I don’t think I was clear enough — the tattoo for me was a dealbreaker. I take you at your word that the flag doesn’t mean anything racist to you. But that’s all it means to me,” I text back.

He is offended and shoots back that he can’t “believe [he] is being judged for something he did 20 years ago.”

“Well, then I’m sure it’s my loss,” I respond. I’m not sure he gets that I’m being sarcastic, and that makes me laugh.

It’s freeing to commit a cardinal sin and realize the punishment feels better than years of virtue ever had. For being the cool black girl, I had been rewarded with the Sisyphean task of making insecure white people feel better about race and the hollow satisfaction of investing in the comfort of people who clearly weren’t invested in my own. The penalty for failing to be the cool black girl was not having to be one.

It gets easier after that. I stop trying so hard to avoid offending people with suggestions they have offended me. I stop using racial self-deprecation to indulge “ironic” senses of humor. I stop laughing when it’s not funny or nodding when it doesn’t make sense. I stop playing the defendant when they want to play the devil’s advocate — allowing them to intellectually experiment on me with their worst arguments, leaving themselves unscathed and richer for the exercise and me, diminished. I stop making them feel better for making me feel worse.

I don’t become unrecognizable. I continue to forgive good faith missteps and let intentions count for a lot, even when they’re accompanied by inelegant wording. But the cool black girl is gone. She doesn’t leave all of a sudden, in a fit of rage. I don’t cut her out of pictures. We outgrow each other, and we both know it, too. It’s a conscious uncoupling. She takes the toaster, and I wish her well. She calls sometimes, but I don’t answer. I don’t miss her.

After Charlottesville, a friend asks if I believe everyone who marched to protect Confederate statues is racist. I think of my date and his tattoo and his indignation and my coffee. Had he been racist? Do I care?

My friend wonders if maybe it’s possible to bring some of those people to our side if they don’t feel so attacked.

I tell him I can’t bring myself to care about their feelings, and he is surprised by my reaction. He’s an old friend. I used to be cooler when he knew me well.

I believe in grace for people who are imperfect allies and generosity for those interested in learning but haven’t yet. But I no longer believe the comfort of white men is more precious than my own. They brought weapons. They clearly don’t mind if we feel attacked.

It’s not that I think allegiance to a Confederate flag or monument automatically makes someone racist. It’s that I don’t care whether they are or not. It’s a dealbreaker for me. Maybe that makes me cavalier — or cool. Maybe my friend is right, and some of them could be brought to our side if people like me invested energy in making them feel less judged and more welcome. But since I don’t, they stay on their side.

I’m sure it’s my loss.