NYPD Assaults James Blake

As you may have heard former tennis star James Blake was wrongly detained by the NYPD when he was mistaken for a suspect in an identity theft ring. That in and of itself is not a big issue. Police and witnesses make mistakes all the time. No the big problem was that rather than being questioned first and THEN detained or arrested by a uniformed or otherwise identifiable NYPD police officer (which could have cleared up any misunderstanding immediately) James Blake was rushed by undercover police officer James Frascatore, grabbed by the neck, assaulted and forced to the ground. The officer did not identify himself. I'm not aware of the exact particulars of self-defense laws in NYC but presumably if strange men assault you in public you do have the right to defend yourself. If Blake had tried to defend himself of course the officer would have shot him and felt piously justified in doing so. Plenty of people, some with good intentions, many more with bad ones, give advice to black men on how to avoid unnecessary confrontations with police. Some of that advice is worthwhile. Most of it is utterly worthless. Here we have Blake literally minding his own business in Gotham before being assaulted by a public servant (who apparently has a track record of violent and abusive policing). There is nothing that Blake should or could have done differently to minimize his chances of being attacked. He was a black man and that was sufficient. Of course it's not just race. It's also class. Can you imagine anyone accusing a Caucasian American business owner or lawyer or other perceived/actual paid up member of the 1% of a non-violent crime and having the police execute a violent takedown? Of course not. Heck, even Mafia bosses with platoons of killers on call don't get treated like James Blake was treated. To add insult to injury the person who police thought was the initial suspect wasn't involved in the alleged crime of identity theft. The NYPD commissioner issued a mush mouthed apology but the union is defending Officer Frascatore. Just another day in the US. It is surreal. Once again, I must admit that Cliven Bundy and his supporters weren't wrong about everything. If the people tasked to enforce the law routinely brutalize people under protection of the law, what recourse does a citizen have?








James Blake Statement:

Just before noon on Wednesday, September 9, 2015, while I was standing on a sidewalk outside my hotel in midtown Manhattan waiting for a car to take me to the U.S. Open, a plainclothes New York City Police officer tackled me to the ground, handcuffed me, paraded me down a crowded sidewalk, and detained me for ten minutes before he and his four colleagues realized they had the wrong man.

The officer, who was apparently investigating a case of credit card fraud, did not identify himself as a member of law enforcement, ask my name, read me my rights, or in any way afford me the dignity and respect due every person who walks the streets of this country. And while I continue to believe the vast majority of our police officers are dedicated public servants who conduct themselves appropriately, I know that what happened to me is not uncommon. 

When this incident was reported in the news media, Mayor de Blasio and Commissioner Bratton both called me to extend their personal apologies, and I greatly appreciate those gestures. But extending courtesy to a public figure mistreated by the police is not enough.As I told the Commissioner, I am determined to use my voice to turn this unfortunate incident into a catalyst for change in the relationship between the police and the public they serve. For that reason, I am calling upon the City of New York to make a significant financial commitment to improving that relationship, particularly in those neighborhoods where incidents of the type I experienced occur all too frequently. The Commissioner has agreed to meet with my representatives and me to discuss our ideas in that regard, and we very much look forward to that meeting.
Frascatore's History

Who is a girl: Lila Perry, Tolerance and Acceptance

I don't really care how a person chooses to live their life. That's their business, not mine. I tend to be a live and let live kind of person. I don't know what happens after we die but I figure that you're the best person to decide what is right for you just as I am the best person to decide what is right for me, within certain limits. But it's that last little disclaimer where so much that is controversial can be found. What are the limits? Where are they? Most people would agree that the limits would be where some form of harm occurs. When you impact someone else's life, liberty or safety negatively is where your rights to live freely stop, or at the very least must be weighed against other considerations. One of the reasons that the American gay marriage or to use proponents' preferred terminology, marriage equality, movement was so successful in such a short period of time was because it was extremely difficult if not impossible for opponents to argue that they would suffer any serious harm as a result of gay marriage being legalized. This was especially the case in a social milieu in which marriage itself was roundly derided by many as being little more than a paper and in which ever increasing numbers of children are born to unmarried parents. If you don't like gay marriage, don't marry a gay person was a blunt but effective rejoinder to most of the objections raised. In a framework that recognizes individual rights and the above theory of harm there simply wasn't the language available to counter that idea. However there are places where just because something is tolerated or even legal doesn't mean it must be accepted. We've discussed some of those instances before. Dragooning photographers or caterers or bakers to provide their services for gay weddings may be legal or constitutional but it is also something that starts to make me a bit uneasy. 

And the next step sought by the "T" membership of the "LGBT" coalition is something where I think I would jump off the acceptance bus entirely.  Almost 200 high school students in Missouri walked out of their classes to protest one a transgender student in senior year being allowed in the girls' bathroom. Members of the Hillsboro High School in Hillsboro, Missouri, ditched two hours of lessons to object to Lila Perry, a 17-year-old senior, being granted access to female bathrooms. Perry, who started identifying as transgender earlier this year, was using the female facilities to change for gym classes, which upset many other girls at the school.

Just because you decide that you are a woman doesn't make you a woman. Just because you decide that you are a man doesn't make you a man. If you have XY chromosomes and a penis, you aren't a woman. You can dress up like a woman. You can put on a wig. You can wear high heels. You can attempt feminine grooming styles. You can try to walk or talk similar to whatever your own particular stereotypical vision of a woman may be. I couldn't care less. We all have our own issues to work through. But when you try to force other people to accept and relate to you as a woman that's when I say get the bleep out of here. 

We have separate locker rooms and bathrooms not because of gender bigotry or hatred but because of privacy, modesty and in some cases safety. I think it's asinine and extremely offensive, as Perry does, to compare racial segregation to restrooms marked "ladies" or "gentlemen". Perry can take his martyr complex and shove it someplace unpleasant. I do not think it is in any way fair to force everyone else to lose their modesty because one person has what amounts to a mental disorder. This is particularly the case when we're talking about children. The rights of the other young women need to be valued here. They should have the right to change without a male being present. They shouldn't be forced to validate Perry's fantasies. Building or allowing this young man access to a gender neutral changing area and/or bathroom is a reasonable accommodation. Trying to force everyone else to bend the knee to a rather radical view of human sexuality and biology is neither reasonable nor workable in my view. When you cast things as a zero-sum game, which is what this has become, you will get a fight. I don't think anyone should hate or discriminate against anyone else based on their sexuality or how they identify. But don't tell me that 2+2 = 5 and that I'm a bigot should I disagree. In a time where "bullying" gets a lot of attention it's ironic that the schools and the federal government are forcing or in other words bullying teen girls to get undressed and use the facilities in the presence of someone who is, despite his delusions, not female.
LINK

Music Reviews: Freddie King: Going Down at Onkel Po's

Freddie King
Going Down at Onkel Po's

Late great Texas born bluesman Freddie King was one of my favorite musicians. He was a huge man at 6-6. King had a literally larger than life expressive baritone voice. Obviously King was best known for his exciting guitar style. King easily bridged the gap or in some cases was the gap between the post BB-King lead style electric blues and the blues-rock and funk of the late sixties and early seventies. King had a very aggressive guitar sound, shaped in part by his very large fingers and somewhat anachronistic country blues style usage of a thumbpick and index finger pick. Unfortunately King died tragically early at 42 from ulcers and pancreatitis. Like many blues musicians King's best work was done live. However, as with many other artists whose lives were cut short before they could put all of their musical and financial houses in order, King's discography was marred with posthumous live releases that to put it mildly, were utter crap. Some musicians found it very difficult to regularly produce high quality live releases. Just because someone happened to be recording at a concert didn't necessarily mean the concert was intended to be commercially released. There were many Freddie King bootleg releases which featured out of tune guitars, inaudible or occasionally overly booming bass, microphones that were too close or too far from the amplifiers, questionable mixing levels or other sonic issues that marred the music. And when you worked as often as Freddie King did, (a typical year could see him doing 300 performances or more) it was almost inevitable that there would be some off nights where the band was flat, poorly recorded or just uninspired. It just happens. As something of a Freddie King completist I own many of these releases, to my chagrin. Sometimes it seems as if every last single fly by night recording/publishing company put out a Freddie King concert release under many different names. To make things worse, often times these releases would cover the same concert or concerts, occasionally dropping or adding a song so that the company could claim that their release was unique. Purchasing or even bothering to listen to much of this stuff can leave you feeling akin to Charlie Brown immediately after Lucy has pulled away the football for the ten billionth time. All day sucker.

Fortunately "Going Down at Onkel Po's" is not a middling Freddie King release. This is a concert at Hamburg's Carnegie Hall from a seventies Freddie King German tour. The first thing of note is the overall sound. The bass can actually be heard, although probably writing that the bass can be felt, would be more accurate. The band is tight on this recording. I don't know how long the two men played together but on this night King's drummer was blues/soul great Calep Emphery, who was a fixture with fellow blues giants BB King and Little Milton. Emphery brought back both swing and simplicity to King's music, giving it a pulse and drive that was critical to a listener's enjoyment. The second guitarist steps out on slide from time to time while the rest of the band, including Freddie's brother on bass, provides some entertaining and occasionally surprising rhythmic accompaniment. There aren't any horns here but additional punctuation and chordal background is provided by two keyboardists. But make no mistake, this is the Freddie King show all the way. James Brown may have been the hardest working man in show business but there was a reason that some people called King the Texas Cannonball. He gives it everything he's got and then some. King here employs a very thick bassy feedbacky guitar tone that hits you hard right in your gut. As it is a live release with no producers telling King when to stop almost all of the songs run a little long, usually about 4-5 minutes, instead of the normal 2-3 minute run time. Some of them go much longer than that. 56th and Wichita rambles on for 10 minutes while Stormy Monday runs for 16 minutes and change. YMMV with some of these extended sets. King was not a jazz musician and couldn't do what they can do with additional space. Not everything on here is a home run. On the other hand, Ain't Nobody Business goes for about 7 minutes and I could listen to it for 20 minutes. King's voice speaks to me. 

So I guess what I would say is that if you're a Freddie King fan or are just curious about electric blues this is definitely worth your time. This was what modern blues sounded like circa 1975 or so. This was before blues had become preservation hall music. There are a tremendous number of nods to and quotes from the popular rock, soul and funk music of the day. That makes sense because Freddie King had developed a great deal of the vocabulary that then current rock, soul and funk musicians were using. The other thing that I liked is that as with many blues guitarists of his generation, there was always a lot of space and dynamics in King's music. This is a 2 CD set and can be found in many different places for reasonable prices. The below video covers a little less than 1/2 of the concert.

Movie Reviews: Zipper, Taken 3, Northmen: A Viking Saga

Zipper
directed by Mora Stephens

What makes a man go crazy when a woman wears her dress so tight/ It must be the same thing that makes a tomcat fight all night -Muddy Waters "The Same Thing"

Why must I feel like that/ Why must I chase the cat/ It's the dog in me, nothing but the dog in me. -George Clinton "Atomic Dog"

Woman I can tell what's on your mind/ Cause I can see the lovelight shine/ You're wanting me to settle down and quit all my rambling around/ Oh woman this heart of mine just loves one day at a time/ Tomorrow is a brand new song and I might be moving it on -Jerry Reed "Let's Sing Our Song"
People have written billions of words detailing the differences great and small between men and women and debating whether such divergences are primarily cultural and environmental or instead mostly biological and hard wired. I lean more towards the latter explanation in most circumstances but that's neither here nor there. Culture and biology often reinforce each other so it can sometimes be difficult to tease out which is what. What's important is that for both genders but apparently more so for men, sex is a primary and necessary drive for which much will be risked. Unfortunately Zipper doesn't have a whole lot to say besides the obvious but it looks good doing it. There are too many politicians and celebrities to mention who could fit into this fictional story but I guess the most obvious parallel would be to former NY Attorney General and Governor Elliot Spitzer. Tiger Woods also gets a filmic shoutout. But you can probably just pick up your local newspaper and find someone who reminds you of the characters in this film. I wouldn't say the cast of Zipper is slumming exactly but they have done better things in the past. 

Zipper (and there's not a whole lot of subtlety to that title is there) tells the story of a charismatic and telegenic South Carolina assistant federal prosecutor named Sam Ellis (Patrick Wilson). Sam has the look and attitude of a man who's going on to bigger things. He's made a name for himself going after corrupt politicians and bringing down the hammer on the sorts of bad guys who help him make the evening news. He's compassionate but not soft, stern but occasionally merciful. He's the office rock star. Men want to be him. Women want to do him. But they can't because Sam is happily married to Jeannie (Lena Headey) a politically connected and wealthy former attorney who gave up her career to support Sam and raise their son together. Her ambitions will be realized thru Sam's success. The sky's the limit for Sam. He could be the next US attorney for South Carolina. He could be a US representative. Even the US Senate is within reach, according to cheerfully slimy political fixer and family confidante George Hiller (Richard Dreyfuss). But Sam has temptations. He manages to stop just short of doing anything unforgivable with the sexy young office intern (Dianna Agron) who comes on to him after a big court win. But when Sam talks to a provocatively dressed case witness and unashamed $1000/hr escort he loses it. Adult entertainment and his wife no longer satisfy his needs. Sam needs real live women! And just like that Sam begins running to the ATM, buying burner phones and maxing out the family credit card. The story such as it was disappears under visuals that were reminiscent of Showtime movies or early nineties Shannon Whirry erotic thrillers. There's some moralizing but not as much as you might think. Ray Winstone does good work but is ultimately wasted as an family friend of Jeannie's. He's an investigative journalist who was contracted to do a puff piece on Sam but rather transparently has his own agenda. John Cho has a blink and you'll miss it spot as an image consultant and Sam's friend. 

The problem is as stated above there's really no explanation besides the need for variety that is offered for Sam's straying.  Sam is a bit of a cipher. He's neither a sympathetic nor tragic figure. He just is. Jeannie is ambitious but is also quite affectionate. Of course when you consider some of the song lyrics at the top of this post perhaps there is nothing mysterious about Sam's actions at all. Zipper's second half gives Headey more opportunities to shine. It's her character's actions and decisions which are the true driving force behind what happens next. When you live or are intimate with someone for a period of time you notice all the little things about them. Little things like a spouse or lover having a phone or ringtone you don't recognize can trigger all sorts of fears. All in all this independent film was occasionally entertaining but unsatisfying because the tension is lacking. And even where there is tension you don't care too much about most of the characters. Both genders reveal a fair amount of flesh. Again, it's Headey who makes the film work.
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Taken 3
directed by Olivier Megaton

If the first Taken was a reminder that metaphorically speaking just because the mule was old didn't meant it couldn't still kick you in the head, then this installment served notice that age catches up with everyone. Entropy always increases. This movie definitely could have done with some cinematic cialis. What was once life or death has been suffused with moral questioning. In the initial installment Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) didn't mess around worrying about what he had to do to get his daughter back. He just did it. That was the whole point of the movie. There are some people you encounter in this world who as Walt Kowalski memorably informed us, you really shouldn't mess with. That used to be Bryan Mills. Trip his wire and he will chop your lips off and feed them to you before he gets really inventive. However in this film Mills ends up having to pull his punches quite a bit. And maybe it was just me but the interminable car chases and explosions just made things worse. There wasn't hardly any emotional involvement with the story or the characters. As I wrote about Taken 2, at this point is there anyone left on the planet who doesn't realize that messing with Mills' family is a very bad idea? There really shouldn't be. That's like the Japanese after Nagasaki saying "Is that all you got?" to the Americans. And how many times does Mills have to save the life of his ex-wife (Famke Janssen) before she starts to catch feelings for him again. Hmm. 

The fight scenes are mostly incompetent. I'm not sure if that is a mark against the director or merely an unavoidable concession to the fact that a 63 year old man such as Neeson, however well trained his character is, won't be able to dominate similarly well trained men twenty, thirty or forty years younger than himself without straining or breaking believability. It may have behooved the writers and director to go in an entirely different direction and play up Mills' detective, tactical or mechanical acumen instead of his martial skills. That to me would have been a much more engaging and fun movie. Perhaps I just wasn't in the mood for this film. Don't get me wrong there are still a few fist pumping scenes and cool one liners but overall Neeson looks tired. And so does everyone else in this movie. Forest Whittaker has a redundant role as a police commander whose primary jobs are to warn everyone how dangerous Mills is and always to show up immediately after Mills has escaped. Again. It seems as if Whittaker would have the name to demand better or larger roles but a paycheck is a paycheck. Maggie Grace recaps her role as Mills' constantly endangered daughter. The camera is not kind to her. Plot? Well there's not a lot here I care to detail. Actually there's not much to detail period. Mills is framed for a murder and must fight to clear his name and of course save his daughter from unseen peril. Stupid people do stupid things. Obvious plot devices abound. Hollywood's new favorite all purpose bad guys show up. This film did rather well financially. I can't see why.
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Northmen: A Viking Saga
directed by Claudio Fah

Well I thought that this movie was entertaining though even a genre fan such as myself would not say that it was a great film. If you ignore all the inconvenient things like lack of treated drinking water, modern medicine and dentistry, washing machines, air conditioning and the other goodies we take for granted that keep us healthy, safe and clean l still find something romantic about the Middle Ages. It was after all a time when it appeared to be a bit easier for one man to make a big difference in the world. All you needed was a sword, a strong arm and a bad attitude. This was a very similar movie in tone and mood to Sword of Vengeance (although it was much less violent) and not just because it had genre fixture Ed Skrein (aka the original Daario from Game of Thrones) in a supporting role. In another way it was also an updated Western. It might have run on a bit too long but the ending was solid. You may not have known it but at various times during English (Anglo-Saxon era) history the Vikings came not only as raiders and pirates but as traders, invaders and settlers. During some periods there were even Viking Kings of England. The movie is set during this time, say 9th century or so. The young Viking warrior Asbjorn (Tom Hopper) has fled Norway along with his father's last surviving loyal retainers. Asbjorn and his father lost a power struggle against the new Norwegian King Harald, who is apparently a bit greedier and more dictatorial than the previous Viking customs would permit. Asbjorn's father died; Asbjorn and crew fled. They intend to reach Viking settlements on the east coast of England, where they can live in peace and freedom or perhaps raise a new army to go home and settle accounts. But they can't do that because they get blown off course and wind up shipwrecked on what they later find out is Scotland. They need to get south. Adding to their bad luck a Scottish military patrol/caravan just happens to be heading their way. Well you can't call yourself a Viking warrior if you're going to let a little thing like being shipwrecked, famished, outnumbered and mostly unarmed ruin your day. In short time the Vikings have shown the Scots what the phrase "the fury of the Northmen" really means. 

Strolling through the dead or dying Scots, the Vikings find a cart with a woman inside. And it's not just any woman. The Vikings don't know who she is yet but they can tell from her beauty, youth and clothing that she must be someone important. They decide to take her for ransom. To some of his followers' irritation Asbjorn decrees the woman will be unharmed and unmolested. For a Viking, Asbjorn is a moral sort of fellow. All the same you can't lead hard men without being one yourself. Some of his wolfpack wonder if Asbjorn's really got the stones to call himself captain. As the Vikings later learn from a mysterious, cynical, sarcastic, modern thinking and quite irritable warrior monk (Ryan Kwanten) the woman they have "liberated" is Princess Inghean (Charlie Murphy), the daughter of Scottish King Dunchaid (Danny Keogh). She was being taken against her will to be married off to one of her father's nobles. The news that she was kidnapped by Vikings on Dunchaid's lands will have quite negative political impact on Dunchaid's reputation throughout all Scotland. It'll make the King look ridiculous, and as Jack Woltz would tell you a man in his position can't afford to be made to look ridiculous! On hearing the news the King sends out his A-Team group of killers, led by the sibling duo of Bovarr (Anatole Taubman) and Hjorr (Skrein) to rescue Inghean. But these brothers, who might as well have big red arrows pointing to them with "We're the bad guys!" inscribed, have their own ideas about what their mission should involve and how it should end. And in an era before instant communication and GPS, Bovarr and Hjorr have a fair amount of independence of action.

This kicks off a long chase movie with all of the requisite back to back last stands, sword duels, feats of derring-do, betrayals, and sieges that any genre fan might wish to see. The film could have benefited greatly from a few flashbacks or setpieces to allow you to understand who the individual Vikings were. Few of the Vikings are really given a lot of definition but there are all the usual tropes--the huge loyal brute, the impossibly skilled bowman, the best friend, the crazy guy, the old guy who's down for one last fight, the deadpan cynical snarker, the untrustworthy second in command--you know the drill. Inghean has other outre skills (and no I am not talking about "those" skills) which the movie uses judiciously. Obviously Inghean and Asbjorn start to make goo-goo eyes at each other but the film surprisingly underplays that. It's not that kind of party. The true stars of the film are the South African and German shooting locations. There is a lot of beauty in this world, and this film lovingly depicts that. I can't emphasize enough how wonderful the cinematography is in this movie. Even the most dedicated city-dweller will want to get out of his house to enjoy the woods, streams and mountains. The film also gives a fair, if cursory look at the benefits of both Christian and Norse belief systems. It is fascinating to consider a culture where some people believed the only way you reached heaven was by dying in battle with sword in hand. The camera work appears to be stolen from inspired by Peter Jackson. Again, this film will mostly appeal to people predisposed to like this sort of stuff, but there is enough here for the rest of you to make this slightly worthwhile. I thought it was a fun Saturday afternoon kind of movie. If you want more than that, look elsewhere.
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Cemeteries, Mosques and Anti-Muslim bigotry

An ugly fact of the human condition is that the negative generalizations that we are so quick to detect and oppose when used against us we often eagerly apply to the other. Few of us completely lack this trait. Witness the ugly bigotry some people have against Muslims. There are four recent incidents which reminded me of these thought patterns. In the first case, former baseball great, born-again Christian, ESPN analyst and proud conservative Curt Schilling approvingly posted and later deleted the meme comparing Muslims to Nazis. He apologized and removed the tweet, but was briefly suspended from ESPN activities. His employer made it clear that Schilling did not speak for ESPN. Unsurprisingly the NY Post defended Schilling as telling "the truth" about Muslims. In the second case a group of apparently low information American citizens in the town of Farmersville, Texas are protesting plans for a "Muslim invasion" of their town. Well, what exactly has these people so up in arms you might ask? Is there some wealthy Arab expatriate sheik who is building a compound for his harem and is going to seize all the town's young women for his own libidinous purposes? Or maybe it's a smooth talking charlatan who is building a secret bomb making and terrorist training facility. When the time is right he'll give the secret radio signal. Every Muslim in Texas will start screaming Allah-u-Akbar and chopping off heads. Perhaps it's just a whole bunch of fiendishly clever Muslim parents who, just for s***s and giggles, intend to have massive numbers of children and so within a few generations take over the United States. The people of Farmersville apparently believe that some of that might be going on but in reality the plan that has them so upset, fearful and blurting out stupid or hateful comments is that some American Muslims, you know, fellow citizens, are planning to build a cemetery. Yes, some people in Texas are so scared of Muslims or hate them so much that even dead ones make them cry for their Mommy. 

Not to be outdone, some people in my own state, in the city of Sterling Heights, are protesting a planned mosque. Some people opposed to the mosque claim to have and may indeed have no religious or ethnic bias as a motivating factor. But many others are quite clear about their prejudices against and hatred for Muslims. When you say that "these people scare us" or "you should have homeland security investigate these people" or "I don't want to live next to people like this", you don't leave much room for misunderstanding. Finally, in Houston Texas, about thirty or so brave yahoos protested against a pre-kindergarten and kindergarten magnet language immersion school for the horrible crime of teaching Arabic. That'll show those five year old little terrorists in training! Don't mess with Texas!!!

Some Americans hold all Muslims responsible for the actions of a few. They think that Islam itself is wrong and evil. They piously point out that a small percentage of Muslims can do a great deal of harm. They feel justified in hating or distrusting all Muslims. Whether such Muslims are American citizens doesn't matter. The more historically minded among such folk or more likely those who can remember and repeat simple talking points will talk at length about past Muslim atrocities or point today to the savagery of ISIS as an example of the typical Muslim. That's all well and good for what it's worth. I have no interest in defending any form of conquest or imperialism, religiously motivated or otherwise. And if you want to be a bigot, as long as your behavior is not unduly or unlawfully influenced by your bad thoughts, I don't care as much as I used to care. The only problem I have is this. If you are living in the United States or Canada or Argentina or just about any place in the so-called New World you're standing on land which witnessed one of the greatest and most successful genocides in world history. For the past five hundred years people of European descent and primarily Christian belief conquered the word and raped, enslaved or exterminated millions of their fellow human beings. In the United States it's only really in the last fifty years or so that the idea that this might not have been such a nice thing to do has penetrated the mainstream consciousness. And it's still a very controversial concept. The New York Times, hardly a conservative or white nationalist publication, just published a fawning review of Hugh Thomas' World Without End, which is apparently one long apologia for Christian Spain's invasion and genocidal conquest of large swaths of the non-white and non-Christian areas of the planet. It's hard to imagine the NYT doing the same thing for someone who strenuously argued that, sure maybe a few people got hurt, but by and large the Islamic Caliphate's or Ottoman Turk's repeated invasions of Europe were noble attempts to spread civilization.

What's beyond the pale (pun definitely intended) is that people who were victims of all this and/or their descendants should judge all whites or all Christians the same way that others wish to judge all Muslims. So why is that? Why is it that because of 9-11 it's okay to say that Islam itself is the problem or that every single Muslim must immediately be held accountable for anything that one of the other 1,599,999,999 Muslims on the planet says or does? Is it okay for people who have suffered multiple 9-11s for centuries to say that white people are the problem? The racism which pervades the Western world is not something that can be laid at the feet of Islam or Muslims. I am less concerned about being blown up by Al-Qaeda than I am about being shot or beaten by a police officer. Nevertheless I try to judge people on an individual basis. And despite problems I think many Americans still attempt to do the same. Judging every member of a group because of something that a small subgroup did is wrong. Judge people for their own actions. Actually if Christians really want to live up to their teachings they should definitely not be judging people at all or even resisting evil. Good luck trying to get people to live up to that scripture.

Bottom line though, and this is apparently difficult for some people to accept, is that this country has no religious tests for citizenship or political office. Nor should it. And every religious freedom or exception to general law which is won by Christians can also be enjoyed by Muslims, people of other faiths or people of no faith at all. Whether it's Muslims building a cemetery, entering a gun shop, or building a house of worship, Muslim citizens enjoy all the same rights as any other citizen. And well they should. And if you wouldn't tolerate negative generalizations about Jews or Christians, blacks or whites, don't make them about Muslims. 

Book Reviews: The Cartel

The Cartel 
by Don Winslow

Don Winslow is among other things the author of such books as The Death and Life of Bobby Z, Savages, The Winter of Frankie Machine, and The Power of The Dog. The last title was a favorite mystery/drama/crime book. Even mentioning that it is a crime novel probably gives you the wrong idea. The Power of the Dog is a novel that simultaneously offers an intimate look at the lives of some very broken, dangerous and obsessive people on both sides of the law and a panoramic view of the drug trade originating from south of the border, primarily Mexico. It weaved in some allusions to the real life Iran Contra and the CIA Freeway Ricky Ross scandals. The US government used domestic and foreign organized crime elements to pursue more important goals than drug interdiction. The novel's dominant theme was the mutual hate relationship between top Mexican drug kingpin Adan Barrera and American DEA agent Art Keller. Barrera's people tortured and murdered Keller's partner. Barrera's hothead brother is killed. Finally, through familial deceit and betrayal, Art lures Adan across the border into the US, where he is swiftly arrested and later convicted, receiving 12 consecutive federal life sentences. The Cartel picks up the story shortly afterwards. Art is deeply disappointed that his superiors won't look deeply into Adan's financial and political connections. The US government doesn't seem to care that much of the financial and military aid it provides to Mexico and Colombia disappears into private hands or is used to repress political or labor union movements. So Art has semi-retired from the DEA. He lives as a monk. Art is also half-Mexican. His mother comes from Adan's home state. Adan is languishing in prison when he learns that his only child, a sickly daughter, has died. He insists upon going to the funeral. In order to make this happen Adan agrees to provide information about some top Mexican organized crime/cartel members. This information is too good to pass up. The White House/DOJ/DEA/CIA/FBI can't say no to this request. This is especially the case as Adan is not even asking for release from prison. Adan wants to serve out his time in a Mexican prison, something everyone thinks is insane since as a snitch or dedo, his life there won't be worth much. But a deal is a deal. 
One of Adan's primary characteristics is that with few exceptions he's always the smartest man in the room. The people he's informed on were his bitter enemies. Within top cartel circles Adan's act isn't seen as contemptible and dishonest but rather canny and worthwhile. Of course it helps that Adan's a boss. The Mexican prison he's sent to is run by Diego Tapia, a cartel boss in his own right and Adan's first cousin. 

In short time Adan "escapes" from prison and starts rebuilding his power, ruthlessly eliminating anyone and anything in his way. Art is invited back to the DEA to consult with Mexican law enforcement and prosecutors looking to arrest Adan. There are politics, nationalist resentment and corruption to complicate Art's job. And Art won't be content to sit on the sidelines and provide intelligence or advice, especially when he's unsure just whom to trust.

Although the Art: Adan conflict is central to this book's decade long story, The Cartel is in some respects almost a Dickensian love letter to Mexico, its good, bad and ugly. There are a lot of characters in this story all of whom have parts to play. One of the scariest things in this book (and in real life) is the fact that the cartels have supposedly corrupted nearly every important institution in Mexican society. The most dangerous and vicious group associated with the cartels is not in fact Adan's Sinaloa group but an organization calling themselves The Zetas. The Zetas are at their core a group of former military and intelligence officers and soldiers, who after doing stints as bodyguards and enforcers for some cartels, decide to go into business for themselves. Their tactics, drawn from counter-insurgency training, set new lows in fear and savagery. But there is also resistance from unlikely sources. A baker goes on a hunger strike, almost killing herself, in order to force the army to release her son. A woman who was savagely mutilated years ago may have the key that allows Art to split Adan's organization. A genteel newspaper editor insists upon calling it like he sees it even after threats and multiple attempts on his life. An impoverished writer with divorce and child support issues struggles with the morality of taking money. A beautiful doctor puts her life on the line by showing the torture and abuse the army metes out. Some police officers still go to work after one cartel or the other lists them by name and promises to kill them. This is not an idle threat. The Cartel has a lot of mordant and even slapstick humor. The man who later became known as "Crazy Eddie" is an initially low key Mexican-American mid level drug dealer (and former Texas high school football star) who runs afoul of the Zetas. The Zetas forced Eddie to watch as they slowly murdered his best friend. The Zetas didn't consider Crazy Eddie a threat, and so let him live to tell the tale. The Zetas later regret that. As his nickname indicates Eddie becomes a dangerous war leader for his group. His internal dialogue is among the funniest as he is thoroughly sex-obsessed. Eddie has a sixth sense about betrayal which often serves him well. And compared to the lunatics he works for or fights against, Eddie is almost decent. I liked his sense of self-preservation, which is almost always present. Even when he's looking down a woman's top, silently estimating her waist:hip ratio or wondering about her bedroom skills, Eddie always has one eye on the nearest exit.

This book doesn't glorify the cartels or the police or army or prosecutors who battle them or more often take money from them. The only people who truly come off well are the small people who are trying to get through life in one piece. Compared to some of his more monstrous colleagues, Adan Barrera isn't personally that dangerous. He's polite, respects women and often avoids violence if he can help it. But like any other CEO he's not the one getting his hands dirty. If Adan gives the order to corrupt a media organization and murder those who refuse bribes, that order is carried out. Art never forgets Adan's evil even as his own lust for vengeance takes him into some moral quagmires. Art is not really a nice guy. He's a man who tries to keep the wickedness inside of him chained and leashed but increasingly wonders why.

Although this book is a sequel it gloriously stands alone. You don't need to have read The Power Of The Dog to enjoy The Cartel. As one character muses this isn't really about a drug war. It's the war of the haves against the have nots. You should read this book. It's a tale which will have you furiously turning pages to learn what happened next and just as furiously turning pages backwards to see how a throwaway line or character five chapters back is essential to what's happening now. There are some authors who quite aside from their skills at constructing a novel are just wonderful storytellers. Winslow is such a writer. So much of the story (The Zetas, the religiously inspired atavistic savagery, the threats to journalists and writers, the corruption of the Army) is taken from real life. But Winslow also gives voice to a Mexico that is often forgotten in the drug war stereotypes. This is the Mexico of Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, Carlos Fuentes, Fidel Sanchez and several other intellectuals, political leaders and artists who have lent their voices, talents and occasionally their lives to the struggle for beauty, decency and humanity. Winslow dedicated this book to various murdered journalists. Read it.

Mel Farr and Old Commercials

Mel Farr recently passed away. He was a former Detroit Lions football player who was a little before my time. I never saw him play football. He also sang backup on Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On". Returning the favor to his friend, Farr helped to arrange a Detroit Lions tryout for Gaye.  
After the recording, Gaye, 31, told Barney and Farr that he wanted to try out for the Lions. The article quotes Gaye from "Marvin Gaye, My Brother, a book by his brother Frankie: "You know what? I'd rather catch a pass and score a touchdown in Tiger Stadium than rack up another gold record." Gaye started working out with his buddies and Lions great Charlie Sanders, and bulked up by 30 pounds. Then-Lions coach Joe Schmidt, also a fan, agreed to take a meeting with Gaye. But when he found out he had never played football, even in high school, he said no to a tryout. But he changed his mind before training camp and agreed to give Gaye a look during a LIons workout at Michigan.  Gaye looked "decent," but Tinsley writes: "Privately, Schmidt imagined the wood-layers of their day — Deacon Jones, Chuck Howley or Dick Butkus — violently greeting one of America's foremost musicians running across the middle. Marvin would've been a moving target. That was too much burden for any coach's conscience."

But it was only in later years that I learned that Farr was a former Lion great. My primary memory of Farr was as the owner of an auto dealership group who tried to ensure that he and other black dealers got fair treatment from the auto companies. He was one of the first if not the first black auto dealers for Ford. He also tried his hand in other business ventures, some of which worked and some of which didn't. I also remembered Farr as the star of some cheesy hard sell commercials. Later on I also learned that he had a reputation as something of a sharp dealer who didn't mind taking advantage of unwary or low credit/impoverished buyers. But that's normal among auto dealers and scarcely bears mentioning. It's not a business which encourages leaving money on the table. I don't think such a business exists. No it's the commercials which are the first thing that came to my mind. And I could not remember the Mel Farr commercials without also recalling some of the other local commercials of note from back in the day, especially the Highland Appliance and WRIF remarkable mouth ads. Those were good times. It's funny how some commercials can instantly transfer you back across decades. I don't watch a lot of television any more and in particular not a lot of local television. But these local television and radio ads bring back fun memories. I also enjoyed the Angels With Dirty Faces Highland Appliance parody and obviously the Faygo commercial. If anyone should ever ask you the best Faygo flavor is Moon Mist.

Mel Farr Superstar

Mel Farr Flying with Billy Sims

Highland Appliance Rocky Sullivan

You have a remarkable mouth

Faygo (Remember When)

Highland Appliance Bully (Radio)

Detroit Zoo

Highland Appliance Fur Elise

Highland Appliance Fifty Watts Per Channel

Colonial Merchandise Mart

Highland Appliance Rumors (Radio)

You gotta have art