the black man has no name! THE BLACK MAN HAS NO NAME!

white people are in trouble! oh no! call....

THE HAITIAN

wait, what?

you know, for as far as entertainment has come, sometimes it's just appallingly behind the curve. i'm sorry to say, nbc's hit supernatural drama heroes is a grade a example of what happens when staff writers become a bit negligent of 200 YEARS OF STEREOTYPES!

let's explore:

for those of you who are not familiar with the show (under a rock much?), heroes is an ensemble drama about people with special abilities living in secret (for the most part) while trying to avoid baddies - the government, creepy siblings and parents, villains (naturally), etc. most are given run-of-the-mill powers: flying, telepathy, super speed...nothing marvel hasn't done to death. however, our man of the hour here (see above, looking all pensive and sexy) is a bit of a wet blanket for the supernaturally inclined. if you're used to defying the time-space continuum with your fancy time traveling powers, standing within 20 feet of the haitian (henceforth known as THE HAITIAN. he's getting his due respect in CAPS, bitches.) will keep you in the present moment. the plug is pulled on your power, like that.

it's no surprise then, that THE HAITIAN would come in handy when dealing with, say, a sociopath intent on murdering you with his thoughts. i'd like to keep THE HAITIAN close, too. however, these white people (former employers, still proving very needy) keep telling him where to be and what to do. nevermind the fact that he quit "the company" two years ago. nevermind the fact that he really didn't have a choice about taking that job in the first place ("work with us, or we ruin your life"). this man has been doing their bidding for at least two decades, and they can't be bothered to CALL HIM BY HIS NAME?! in fact, after four years of broadcasting, we only learned his name LAST WEEK (it's Rene, by the way). maybe someone in the writer's room finally clued in to the fact that when you put a nearly silent black man (he didn't utter a word until halfway through the first season) on the screen who exists only to take orders from the bourgeois...you're only a hop skip and a jump away from some of these famous predecessors.

mammy

a black person to cure all them white folks' problems. it doesn't matter whether youse having a baby or are being threatened by some telekinetic freak, if you got a mammy you'll be fat and happy soon.

sambo

you know, just the other day, i saw THE HAITIAN lounging under a tree taming some wild animals and i thought, "you know what that man needs? A JOB." so i put him to work for some secretive, ethically dubious corporation. he hasn't had a day off since.

the magical negro

he's black. he makes magical things happen. you know, cause when you're from the deep forests of some primal nation, that sorta stuff just comes easy to you.

UPDATE: honorable mention to tv's other favorite semi-silent, magical negro of recent years, mr. ___ eko. not like we know his first name either.

a sensitive aside: Jimmy Jean-Louis, the actor who portrays RENE, is actually Haitian. now didn't that just get all meta for you?

in tv land...everyone is qualified to be a guidance counselor

for all intents and purposes, i'm in a committed relationship with my television. i see it regularly. rearrange existing dates to accommodate its schedule. spend the morning after thinking "i wonder what he meant when he said that last night." etc. etc. the same is true for the little people inside the box. after all the hours i spend with them, through the good and bad, i want the best for them. so, of course, i'm happy when they succeed, regardless of the circumstances. but i can only make certain concessions to a point. i realize going around poking holes in the logic of a fictional world is really a waste of time...but somebody must. right?

as an aspiring librarian, the question i hate the most (yet, have to answer with an alarming frequency) is "oh, you have to go to school for that?". if i, lowly custodian of rare volumes, have to spend 2 years and thousands of dollars learning how to handle the goods, shouldn't someone charged with handling the education and mental health of minors be required to sit in on a night class or two?

so, gentle readers, let us now take this moment to acknowledge the absurdity of "the tv guidance counselor".

according to some fancy pants national association, the minimum amount of training a person must endure is a Masters degree in either Psychology or Education and a 240 on the "152 TExES School Counselor Exam". out of a possible 300. maybe more depending on your state. so, the next time your favorite tv show nominates the town wacko to tell Cast Member A to "pick a safety", i want to see that the props department has done the same for our star.

K.I.T. : a look at the greats


Emma Pillsbury

she wears sweater sets. she's afraid of germs. you win some, you lose some, right? far be it for me to accuse her of being anything other than fastidious (she probably got a gold star in student teaching), but i'm just concerned. her danny tanner-like need for clean must inhibit her ability to dispense relevant advice (does anyone else see the pamphlet behind her desk? "Radon: the silent killer"). also, teenagers are dirty. i think she needs a guidance counselor to help her choose a new career path.


Jeff Rosso

hippie with a heart of gold. this is the man you went to when you wanted some straight talk with a side of reminiscing. he was just as likely to solve your problem as he was to sing you a song. or tell you about his personal conflicts with bullies. or herpes. and, sure, that crosses a line that would make most schools fear lawsuit, but rosso just wouldn't let the man (in this case, a very necessary educational bureaucracy) get him down.



Buffy Summers

Buffy Anne Summers. she saved the world. a lot. apparently that's all the recommendation the administration over at sunny dale high needed before hiring our favorite vampire slayer. now, impending apocalypse aside, i think it's wise to point out that buffy can have some serious, uh, blonde moments. and, if her taste in men is anything to go by, she's not exactly a champion good decision maker. buffy pro's: she'll keep you from dying. buffy con's: attrocious grammar, dropped out of college, may still be suffering from some latent ptsd from that time she was dead. and, oh yeah, a student did actually die on her first day on the job.


Tami Taylor

my biggest problem with friday night lights may very well be that i forget this show is fiction. of course, that may have more to do with my abiding love for one adorable QB1 than with the show's content, but my point remains. all those docu drama angles and that improvised dialogue, it just seems like they are going out of their way to fool me. that said, they blew their verisimilitude to pieces when they promoted tami taylor from mrs. coach to school administrator. i've been told they do things differently in texas, i just wasn't aware that included allowing uncertified nice ladies to coach afterschool sports, advise town bimbos on college apps and rezone school districts. i mean, if that's the case, i may start practicing law in dillon. (my first action: prove that all "saracens" are constitutionaly obligated to marry me at my discretion.)

why i watch gossip girl OR a meditation on Ho Yay!

hello. my name is nicole. and it's been 36 hours since my last hit of gossip girl.

i. am. addicted?

step one is admitting you have a problem. i am, clearly not ready to do that. what i am ready for, however, is admitting that i share the taste of 2.24 million teenage girls across the nation. but, hey, that's not really news.

GG justifications i've used in the past:

1. "you know how i am with series premieres." if i catch the first episode, i'm in it for the long haul. call it a strong work ethic, my sticktoittiveness, or my sheer stubbornness (i will not let mediocre television get the best of me!)

2. "it just doesn't understand Camp." a smart lady once said, "Pure Camp is always naive. Camp which knows itself to be Camp is usually less satisfying." i once replied, "ain't that the motherfucking truth." the monday night bitchery that is GG may succeed in it's over the topness, but if i want 'wink wink nudge nudge' irony i'll go hang out bedford ave. GG never rises above being "less satisfying" than the Grande Dame of all naive teen programming: Beverly Hills 90210 (1.0, thank you very much). now that was a show completely oblivious of its PSA-style transgressions. in one decade they managed to burn, mug, rape, kidnap, shoot, induce amnesia and miscarriage, cult up and coke up a single cast member. all with a happy moral at the end of each story arc. sorry to say, there isn't enough lavender in chuck bass' wardrobe to compete with that theatre of the absurd.

which brings me to my next point...

3. "they're just stringing me along with all that HoYAY!" chuck, patron saint of bad deeds and dandies, needs to lay off the purple. and the exchange of bedroom eyes with his bestie, nate. unless he means it. and he always means it. you wanna know why? well, because he's chuck bass.

observe:

martini's at a pool party? chuck's trying to make a statement and it's not "i'm a suburban wife with 2 toddlers." also, i'm pretty sure "casual touch" ranks high in some 'girls guide to snagging her guy' manual. smooth move, nate.

when i was a little girl, i thought prince charming would come and whisk me away from all of my worldly troubles. seems chuck's had the same fantasy. note: nate's "i can't deal with you when you get like this. can we talk when we get home later?" look. (to non-viewers: they do, indeed, live in domestic bliss. though i'm sure CW execs would call it a "totally male heterosexual city dwelling.")

there is something queer about this scene. ahem, sartorially speaking. red pants, green socks, purple ascot! it's all a bit...off. this unsettling feeling, of course, has nothing to do with, say, chuck's seductive pose or nate's crotchward gaze. no, noo! not at all...

"you say something. he turns and flashes a coy smile in another direction, looking like he's contemplating something big. there's a pause. your eyes meet and, before you know it, you're being drawn in for the big moment, like you were some twinkling star in his orbit. will your world's collide? you should slow down, put a hand out to stop you from your fall. but now that hand is there and grasping. 'this purple suit's gonna get wrinkled,' you think, surprised at how little you actually care."

and with that, i just became nate's favorite erotic fiction writer.

media studies...of a different kind

extra credit? not quite. just turning a new technological leaf this november.

the posts from jan to may were all about what academia has to say about (cue heralding trumpets) "information technologies". but enough with the book learning. im about to school (and be schooled) you on tv.

for this very special occasion i'd like to regale you with a tune i composed. it's written in the key of "i watch too much tv and am concerned that is stunting the growth of my interpersonal skills." little matty saracen was my muse. please enjoy this in an ironic fashion and try not to pity me too much.

(in the style of jenny lewis)

the aftertaste of lonely

take out for two

except on of them is you

tv lights flicker

and i am made sicker

by the feeling

of being

alone

her love isn't so provisional

it's just mine that's televisional

and, oh, i should get out more

but i know i'm such a bore

the real world

dont treat me

so well

(catchy blue grass hook here)

chorus:

do you think there are others

with two dimensional lovers

and those

they would consider

friends

is it fine to feel so homey

instead of just only

creating plots

as means

to my own ends

but i'll have one more sip

and i swear i will quit

this relationship

i've built in my head

i need a new flavor

one i can savor

i'm sick of just only

this aftertaste of lonely

if there's one thing the internet has been missing, it's my opinion. so, let's begin.