#take me back to 2009. those were the days. halcyon days

[redlinereblogs]

i am so stupidly upset about this😔😔😔

[nomanwalksalone]

STYLE AND THE DAMME

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Late in his new series Jean-Claude Van Johnson, Jean-Claude Van Damme, in tailored suit and open-collared white shirt, gestures up from his Aston Martin to his secret hideout with the instantly classic setup line, “No one has looked for me here for 20 years.” It’s a Blockbuster Video. As always, Van Damme is “on the run from the law, military or mafia,” but just this once, perfectly on the nose with this quip. And with it, three wildly different cultural icons, Van Damme, the tailored suit and Aston Martin, come into a strange but telling momentary alignment from the vastly different places they were in those 20 years ago.

20 years ago Van Damme was just over the peak of his fame, a coked-up Belgian kickboxing force who was fresh off The Quest, a big-budget, less satisfying remake of Van Damme’s best film, Bloodsport. He was about to star in a film about exploding jeans with the SNL copier guy Rob Schneider. Even better than it sounds, Knock Off knocked Van Damme off his pedestal and into the direct-to-video purgatory in which he’s labored since then. And labor he has, dedicated to actually becoming an actor of range and depth despite none of his audience actually caring. Direct-to-video films generally get ignored. Popularly, we expect them mainly to be watched by fans of fading stars expecting the predictable. It’s poignant, then, that Van Damme turned in a convincing performance in a pastiche of Bad Lieutenant and showed he could telegraph real pathos in John Hyams’ unfathomably good DTV Universal Soldier sequels Universal Soldier: Regeneration and Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning.  

Van Damme didn’t have to expend that effort. Witness the trajectory of his erstwhile rival Steven Seagal, a trajectory of almost cosmological increasing expansion behind yellow-tinted shooting glasses and spray-on-hair, accommodated in dozens of unwatchable movies by screenplays and direction that allow Seagal literally not to move. Seagal’s kept his many-chinned profile up in recent years courting tinpot authoritarians in the United States and Eastern Europe. Unlike Seagal, in recent years Van Damme has gained attention and respect by embracing his own ridiculousness. He played up this self-awareness with surprising comedic and dramatic talent in 2009’s JCVD, a scathing satire of his own dead-end career and broken life. He brings this willingness to both mock and explore himself to Jean-Claude Van Johnson, where he plays a retired actor who is actually a retired spy. Shoots for cheesy movies in Eastern Europe, such as a chop-socky reboot of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (“It’s time to get Hucked”), are just covers to investigate and infiltrate drug gangs, diabolical masterminds, and eventually the rotten entertainment industry itself.

The key to that last mission, taking down the corrupt talent and espionage agency that had used him, is looking the part, 2017 edition. Looking a part means meeting all the clichés, the easy expectations of a role. For that of Erstwhile Movie Star, today it means pulling up to the agency in an Aston Martin in a tailored suit, no tie. It certainly didn’t always. 20 years ago, Aston Martin had nowhere to go but up, or into oblivion. Since then, oblivion has claimed most of the other romantically exotic British car brands like TVR and Bristol. Aston used to mean just Bond films, Bond satires, and bad Bond copies. By the early 1990s, its annual sales had slumped to fewer than 200 cars worldwide and its main model, the Virage, cost $250,000. I’ve only seen one of those ever, late at night in my college town decades ago, looking like something from another world.

Today, thanks to prudent investment and positioning by Ford and Tata, Astons are a shorthand for the showbizzy glitterati of our world, occasionally favoring us with an appearance in our grocery store parking lot or, with motor gunning, running the red light we’d prudently braked for. Hugh Grant bought one after filming About A Boy because his tween co-star thought it would be cool; Isla Fisher drove one playing Ron Howard’s vapid daughter in Arrested Development. Van Damme’s Aston is the same sort of shorthand: predictable, expensive flamboyance to be expected from a has-been with money.

What does this mean for the suit? 20 years ago it was in the wilderness, a wilderness grown out of the backlash to 1980s corporatism, a wilderness so wild that for a few seasons designers were trying to put men in waistcoats, frock coats or Nehru jackets instead of sport coats or suits. Those didn’t take, but for the rest of us casualwear replaced the suit with identikit billowing blue shirts and baggy khakis in business settings, and with jeans, sweats or anything else, really, in other settings. 20 years ago the suit had just barely begun to creep back in certain circles in the United Kingdom as a so-called smart formal outfit for social outings, with a nice shirt but never a tie. It was too soon for that reminder of 1980s correctness. Since that time, Hedi Slimane goosed the “tailored look” with his tight suits, while fashion seized on the financial crises of 2001 and 2008 to push a return to supposedly more serious dressing. In the fashion idiom, the opposite of frivolity is expensive conservatism, ergo the suit. The tie, too, fought its way back up for a couple of years of air, but not in the world of cliché and shorthand, where smart actor of a certain age means nice suit, white shirt (anything else would be too busy) and no tie – no ties to the normal working world.

Today, Van Damme, Aston Martin and the smart suit are in alignment, all in fashion again… for the moment. Whether Aston Martin stays in fashion will depend on its owners and backers keeping technologically modern cars in production and promoting them. As to Van Damme and the suit? It’s just as ironically sad as Van Damme becoming a good actor that the suit, formerly the inescapable classic clothing item, returned only as a fashion item. This means that it can and will be replaced by something else in fashion, like yoga pants for men. Maybe Van Damme, too, is only having a moment as a whimsical nostalgia item like the suit.

But Jean-Claude Van Johnson has a real lesson for us beyond this sentimentality. Although it is about an actor who is actually an international spy, its reality is an actor playing his persona and pretending to find himself. His choices are to hide from the world behind cabinets of Pop Tarts and made-up memories, or to engage with the uncanny and unfair demands of an unfamiliar age. He chooses to engage, despite his heyday being long behind him and the things that he had fought for illusory. Remember that in fact there was no more genteel age of yore, only pasts of different levels of exploitation and oligarchy. The classy actors we now associate with elegance were actors playing parts, both on screen and in public life. No halcyon days await our return. However we adapt to changing times and changing understandings of what is right, ultimately we can best face down challenging times by being ourselves in the moment. Or as Van Damme-from-the-future reminds us, “TimeCops don’t exist.” We cannot change the timestream to fit our illusions. We can only do with what we have: our personality, not our persona, and from time to time, still, a nice suit as both armor and disguise.

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This article first appeared on the No Man blog in 2018.

[popwasabi]

“Do the Right Thing” and “the language of the unheard”

Two things tend to happen following the death of unarmed African American at the hands of law enforcement in this country.

The first are protests that often lead to heightened demonstrations of anger, which lead to police decked out in riot gear to come in and put a stop to it while property and storefronts often burn around them. The second is a condemnation of all that but less so of the brutality that led to the riots but of the riots themselves.

In America, there is a modern philosophy of “civility” at any costs, that even when angry, even when rightfully enraged by the injustices that befall a group of people, you are STILL expected to “behave” and it is YOUR responsibility to stay calm and do the right thing.

“I’m sorry, I agree with you, but I just can’t support you because of the way you demonstrated that belief” are often the words that follow.

(Image unrelated)

I’m not saying you should ignore all toxic behavior or that you can’t take issue with a movement’s methods, I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I used to stringently believe this myself. In the wake of the Ferguson riots in 2014 where a Missouri police officer shot and killed unarmed African American Michael Brown for the crime of allegedly *check notes* stealing a box of swishers, I found myself participating in the same tone policing as much of the wider country.

“Yeah, the police were wrong to kill Michael Brown like that but also the protesters have no right to destroy their own city. That’s wrong, they should do it peacefully!” I proudly proclaimed at the time.

(Image unrelated)

Six years later my feelings on this have taken a complete 180, partially because the circumstances of our times have become exponentially more volatile but it really began with finally understanding an ending to a movie I got around to seeing in 2009; Spike Lee’s “Do the Right Thing.”

Back in the “halcyon” days of 2009 I used to be a part of a small Myspace (yea, I know…) movie club group where we all shared various movie reviews amongst each other upon individual recommendations. One day one of these members recommended watching 1989’s “Do the Right Thing.” Up until that day I really didn’t know much about Spike Lee beyond him being a rabid Knicks fan and opinionated Clint Eastwood agitator but I gave it a watch and I liked it quite a bit.

(Shade you can hear.)

“Do the Right Thing” details a day in the life of Mookie, played by Spike himself, as he navigates his rough Brooklyn neighborhood. Throughout his day, he and his mostly black neighbors, friends, and acquaintances encounter various micro aggressions in the form of gentrifiers, white and Asian store owners who disrespect them despite being their primary customers, widespread income inequality, and of course the police who monitor their every step. The movie examines the intersection of race and how it all comes colliding together when circumstances are less than perfect specifically to those that exist in African American neighborhoods.

I enjoyed this aspect of the film, it felt real and authentic to me, even humorous at times, critiquing the very real issues black Americans face every day while also examining how other groups of people interact with them. 

Where I took issue with the film, at the time, was its aforementioned climax.

At the film’s end, tensions have boiled over as Radio Raheem, one of Mookie’s friends, is called the n-word by Sal, Mookie’s white pizza store owner boss, leading to a scuffle between the two of them. Police are then called, pulling Radio Raheem away, nevermind that it was Sal’s words that ignited the fight, and put him in a chokehold and well, you know this story already…

Finally, the anger that has been rising throughout the film ignites with a growing mob agitated at Sal and his sons who they see as the main instigators. Mookie stands rubbing his face for a few moments before picking up a trashcan and tossing it at the window of the pizzeria, simply yelling “Hate!” as it crashes through.

A riot of course ensues, as the largely African American neighborhood tear the store apart, looting it of all its material goods before it burns to the ground. The next day Mookie returns to the scene of the unrest to ask Sal directly for his paycheck who angrily tells him his stunt destroyed his business to which Mookie simply retorts “Radio Raheem is dead.” The two argue for a bit but somehow ends with the two quietly understanding each other before they go their separate ways.

For the longest time I couldn’t square exactly with the ending despite my enjoyment of the movie. I never outright condemned the entire film’s message, (some people within that group I spoke of did though…), but I did find myself saying I couldn’t condone how it ended. Afterall, what did Sal do to deserve that kind of backlash, why did his storefront deserve to be destroyed? It had “nothing” to do with Radio Raheem’s death, right?

Fast forward to today and well, my attitude has definitely changed.

At this point I’m not going to spend an entire paragraph describing our current events as you all should be smart enough to know by now what’s going on but an African American friend of mine summed up these past two weeks in the most concise way possible I feel; “the results of oppression, poverty, hopelessness, and frustration is destruction and violence.”

Throughout “Do the Right Thing” Spike Lee shows us a microcosm of the effects of societal neglect and institutionalized racism has on his community. He tells us exactly why Mookie did what he did and yet still largely white viewers, which included myself at one point, were confused by this. At a certain point a person, a group of people, an entire community can only take so much before they take actions into their own hands.

When our white dominated society tells African Americans it’s “inappropriate” to protest during the national anthem, that it’s inappropriate to “make everything about race,”, ask “What about black on black crime,” respond back “#BlueLivesMatter” or “#AlllivesMatter,” when largely white Americans, especially those in power, ignore and refuse to believe all evidence that says otherwise this is what happens. These are the results of the neglected, ignored, and unheard.

(Btw, Roger Goodell can fuck all the way off with his crocodile tears until he gives a formal apology to Colin Kaepernick on behalf of the league, AT MINIMUM.)

There is a rush to judgment when the looting and rioting starts following these tragedies around the country. Nevermind the fact that police are largely the aggressors in all these interactions and attack peaceful protesters who are “doing it the right way” anyways but the blame for the destruction is almost only squared on the rioters themselves.

Cries of “Martin Luther King would have never supported this” and “He would call for peace and #unity right now!” are typical when this happens. King was a far more nuanced and complicated man than the liberal hippie that both Republicans and Democrats liken him to be and when you invoke his name to condemn protesters before the cops who actually started this you, and I cannot emphasize this enough, ARE NOT HELPING.

(If you won’t listen to me, listen to his daughter, you assholes.)

People generally want to empathize with victims but for some reason only want the perfect victim in this country. A victim that is a Saint in real life, lays down, does all the right things, and still gets hurt for it because they are “doing it the right way.” Sometimes victims are imperfect, including people who have been murdered by cops and people who loot and riot, but they STILL deserve to be heard and most importantly they deserve JUSTICE.

Nevertheless, these people are villainized to their most extreme as people are disproportionately being harassed by the cops while it all happens. Again, I cannot emphasize this enough, when you spend more time talking about “good” vs “bad” protesters you are helping those who benefit from maintaining the status quo. They WANT you to make this about those “criminals” and “thugs” who would “destroy our communities.” Nevermind, that upping the militarization of our police force only INCREASES the chances of a protest turning violent anyways.

(Tell me who is this protecting? Who is this serving?)

By making this about the “bad protesters” they drive a wedge between you and the cause so that police brutality can be maintained, so that power structures are not changed, so that you can be “protected” from people who are actually fighting for your rights right now. When the media and politicians use this kind of language, they are giving cops free reign to justify all forms of heinous means of pacifying these demonstrations, including ones that are banned in war. They want you to miss the point, they want you to forget why this started, hell they want you to forget they looted your asses long before the “rioters” looted a multibillion dollar company’s store who has more than enough insurance to recoup their losses anyways.

Spike Lee is often asked about the ending to “Do the Right Thing,” a question I would’ve asked him myself even just a few years ago, and he’s quoted as saying “only white people ever ask me that question.”

MLK’s name is often invoked when shit hits the fan in these demonstrations and while I’ll admit that I don’t like seeing neighborhoods destroyed and certainly don’t like seeing small businesses torn down and looted it’s important that King wanted us to understand why they happen and to keep our eyes on the ball:

“A riot is the language of the unheard” is important in understanding “Do the Right Thing” and this current moment we are having in history. While I have been pleasantly surprised by the near unanimous support Black Lives Matter has had across the board by people I would never thought to become radicalized there are still pockets of people who make this about the “right way” to protest.

To quote Spike Lee even he says he is unsure if Mookie did the “right thing” or not in that situation but he also says, “I know who did the wrong thing.”

Some of you might be saying still that MLK would not have supported these riots and hell, that may be true but need I remind you, there’s a reason he's not here today to tell you himself.

I’ll leave you with the same two quotes Spike left his audience in 1989 from MLK and Malcom X. I want you to read them both thoroughly and see if you have done the right thing yourselves over these past two weeks.

I truly hope you have...

Love and respect, y’all.

[trespeak]

What's your favorite house album?

Wow, that’s a toughie. Might just have to give you a list instead.

This ended up being pretty long so I’ve put all the big descriptions I wrote for each of ‘em under the cut, but here’s the gist:

Daft Punk, Discovery (2001)

Kaskade, Fire and Ice (2011)

deadmau5, For Lack of a Better Name (2009) and 4x4=12 (2010)

Phantoms, Phantoms (2017)

Justice, † (2007) 

Lazy Rich’s singles

Porter Robinson/Virtual Self – Spitfire (2011) and Virtual Self (2017)

I like a lot of deep house and electro house, so most of my picks here are within either or both of those subgenres (as well as progressive house, in deadmau5′s case).

For more of my thoughts (and there are many!), see below.

Daft Punk, Discovery (2001)

Accept no substitutes. For Guy-Manuel de Homem Christo and Thomas Bangalter, making quality tunes seems to just be second nature. Their second album replaces the underground, city-street feel of Homework with a shiny, discotheque-ready sound that stands on the shoulders of giants but does so as a means of updating and widening the reach of their own influences (with “Harder Better Faster Stronger”’s use of “Cola Bottle Baby” as a perfect example thereof). My favorite track on the record, “Digital Love,” perhaps only barely qualifies as house, but between the earnestness of the vocoded lyrics and the heart-stopper of a guitar solo, I don’t even mind – who cares about genre conventions when you’re a smitten robot? It’s utterly brilliant and its era exists as the gold standard for many DP fans, myself included among them.

Kaskade, Fire and Ice (2011)

Ryan Raddon’s seventh album and the one I hold the most nostalgia for. An ambitious effort on Kaskade’s part, Fire and Ice is a double album, with original tracks on one side and remixed, chilled-out versions of the same songs on the other (geddit?). The ICE mixes are something of a mixed bag, with some having more reason to exist than others, but the Fire side of the album earns it a place here on its own, with Skrillex and Raddon giving us their own brilliant take on a classic track from Guy Manuel de Homem Christo on “Lick It,” as well as the smooth vibes of Ryan’s collaboration with his band Late Night Alumni and Inpetto on “How Long.” Another standout track: “ICE,” a big, bumping jam Ryan made with Dan Black and Dada Life.

deadmau5, For Lack of a Better Name (2009) and 4x4=12 (2010)

Oh, Joel. These days he’s earned a controversial status as full-time internet troll alongside his career as a musician, but he’s still had a palpable impact on the industry at large (pop juggernaut Marshmello more or less owes his entire career to the allure of the man in the cute mask, and while Daft Punk did it first, Mello’s own interpretation is particularly and explicitly influenced by the way deadmau5 did it). These two albums dropped when I was twelve/thirteen and still opening my eyes to the wide world of electronica, and I think they’re particularly significant as the point where I went from being a casual fan of it to a devotee, sparking an investment in the Scene® that I still have to this day. The degree of control Joel flexes over his work at its peak was unprecedented for the time and still holds up now – “Strobe,” the album closer on For Lack Of, is particularly notable in how it makes ten minutes feel like no time at all in how it builds and shifts with just a few simple, powerful elements in play at a time. “Ghosts ‘n Stuff” earned Joel and vocalist Rob Swire a crossover hit, and “Raise Your Weapon” stands as an early illustration of what the North American take on dubstep would sound like in the years to come. 

Phantoms, Phantoms (2017)

Kyle Kaplan and Vinnie Pergola’s debut record is a clever mission statement for their work. Their deep house tunes are infused with pop sensibilities, placing them in company with contemporaries like Jamie xx and Disclosure as house DJs making an effort to bridge the gap between the radio airwaves and the dance floor. My favorites include “Just a Feeling” with Verite, a modody track called “Downtown,” and the utterly brilliant “Need You Closer,” a collab with Hayley Kiyoko that easily converted me into the Church of Lesbian Jesus. (Their recent work is also worth a nod as well – they’ve been building up singles to drum up interest in a new EP, including one of their best tracks to date, a driving progressive house tune called “Designs for You.”)

Justice, † (2007)

Gaspard Auge and Xavier de Rosnay’s debut record remains their best. There’s so many iconic tracks on this one: The slick vibes of ��Genesis” and “Newjack,” the ever crowd-pleasing “D.A.N.C.E.,” the pumping “Phantom” and its sequel, the nu-disco sleaze of “DVNO”, and the ear-splitting delight of “Waters of Nazareth.” The record earned them a positive, if daunting, comparison to fellow French house pioneers Daft Punk, and while their work on it shares an obsession with taking diverse samples and reconfiguring them into their own image, Justice’s fascination with the macabre aesthetic of 70′s horror films and the rock ‘n roll ethos of T. Rex earned them a distinct spot in the pantheon of electronic acts with this record (as well as its followup, the different-but-still-great Audio, Video, Disco).

Feed Me - Feed Me’s Big Adventure (2011) and Calamari Tuesday (2013)

Jon Gooch was one of the earliest musicians to emerge under deadmau5′s mau5trap label, and still shines as one of its leading acts today (High Street Creeps, released earlier this year, has jams for days). While he started his career making drum ‘n bass tracks as Spor, the bulk of his work since 2009 has been under the Feed Me alias, where he’s dabbled in all manner of electronic but mostly hews close to the realm of electro house. Gooch’s experience in making complex tunes meant that Feed Me came out swinging, with tracks like “Grand Theft Ecstasy” and “Muscle Rollers” exhibiting a confidence and technical skill from the outset that most producers would kill for on their first record. By the time his first proper full length released two years later, he’d developed a consistent feel that made collaborations with indie bands (”Love Is All I Got,” with Crystal Fighters) and soulful singers (”Last Requests,” with Jenna G) feel as natural as hard-hitting bangers (”No Grip” and “Death by Robot”). Mix in a little bit of both and you get “Ophelia,” a anthemic ballad made with YADi – my favorite song from the record, and a earworm that still sticks with me six years on. Love, don’t let me drown…

and some honorable mentions!

Lazy Rich’s singles! Richard Billis is a Canadian DJ who retired from producing tunes in 2017, but for the decade or so he was releasing music, the electro house singles he released were nothing short of iconic. Songs like “Blast Off” (with Hirshee and Lizzie Curious) and “Flash” (with Hot Mouth) are energetic, breezy and danceable. There’s nothing quite like a good Lazy Rich drop; his beats hit the dance floor with the weight of a truck, and have a sonic diversity among them that would predict the electronic scene’s shift toward the dynamism of future bass. It makes me sad that we won’t get any more of them, but Billis left behind such an evergreen catalog of singles that it’s hard to be down for very long. (I used to use his remix of Zedd’s “Stars Come Out” as a theme song of sorts on an old website where you could be a DJ with your friends. The fond memories are strong with this one.)

Porter Robinson/Virtual Self – Spitfire (2011) and Virtual Self (2017) – Leave it to Porter Robinson to carve out a completely separate musical persona just to hearken back to his halcyon days as a young producer. My initial introduction to him was just after he’d emerged from the hands-up scene, while he had his eyes set on stardom through what he called “complextro,” and it was surprising to find that his work not only lived up to its genre classification but actively carved out a market for its sound, even before Porter had dropped an album. If the dubstep and house feel of Spitfire was a revelation, the DDR vibes of the Virtual Self EP are a revitalization; similar in ethos, but with an owned, Serial Experiments Lain-styled technological aesthetic. Porter does a lot of work to keep the two projects separate (even going as far as to delineate live shows between the aliases), but rather than fragmenting his work the distinction only ends up strengthening his catalog, in much the same way Jon Gooch’s work as Feed Me complements his earlier collection as Spor.

JOYRYDE’s singles and upcoming album - John Ford Jr. is an English DJ who knows what he likes: fast cars, bumping house beats, mean-muggin’ rap jams, and making tunes that blend all of the above in one way or another. His JOYRYDE project is only a few years old, emerging in 2016, but it’s very much the culmination of years of diggin’ in the crates and building a sound that blends the hip-hop influences of trap with the boogie-bounce sensibility of house. No sooner is this evident than the “parental discretion is advised” warning (and subsequent punchy opening bars) that welcomes you into “HOT DRUM,” though his other tracks (including “MAXIMUM KING” and the Rick Ross-assisted “WINDOWS”) share that kinetic energy. He’s one to watch!

Also worth your time:

Oliver’s Mechanical EP and their album Full Circle

Mord Fustang’s All Eyes On… compilations

Botnek’s singles from 2016 onward

Chris Lake’s releases with his label Black Book Records

Self Help by Walker and Royce

pretty much everything by Ellie Herring and Chrissy (Murderbot)

Fantasmas by Zavala

anything Wolfgang Gartner has made (particularly his early 2010s singles)

That’s all I got for now. If you made it this far, you’re an angel. Thanks for indulging me :)

[blockheadbrands]

Five Years into Marijuana Legalization: What Didn’t Happen

Russ Belville of High Times Reports:

Prohibitionists’ fears about legal weed didn’t materialize.

In January of 2013, Kevin Sabet was facing a new dilemma.

Never before had any prohibitionist had to fight back against an actual legalization regime. For years, Sabet and his kind had issued dire forecasts of the bleak hellscape America would become under the seductive addiction to the devil’s lettuce. Now those predictions would be put to the test in the real world.

So, let’s take a look back to those halcyon days of 2013 when weed had barely been legalized and was not yet legally sold (that didn’t happen until 2014), to see how Sabet’s predictions panned out.

FEAR: “[Legalization of marijuana] would open the floodgates to more addiction.”

FACT: Legalization of marijuana has led to lower use rates among teens, less opioid addiction and death.

Sabet opined in an October 2013 op-ed at CNN that “legality means commercialization, normalization and wider access and availability that lead to more use and addiction.”

According to the 2015-2016 State-Level Estimates contained in the National Survey of Drug Use & Health, marijuana use has increased in Colorado and Washington following their legalization. However, the increase is found mostly among the adults who are now legally able to use marijuana.

Russ Belville / National Survey on Drug Use & Health

Use among people aged 12-17 has actually declined since those states began legal marijuana sales in 2014. That’s despite the other parts of Sabet’s prediction coming true. In 2015-2016, far fewer teens in Colorado and Washington believed monthly marijuana use was risky and disapproved of peers’ marijuana use.

FEAR: “[Marijuana] users will incur a huge cost to society.”

FACT: Tax revenue from legal marijuana has topped well over $1 billion.

 “We know, for example, that every $1 gained in alcohol and tobacco tax revenue costs society $10,” Sabet warned GoLocal Worcester in Massachusetts. “Why should we expect marijuana—which combines the intoxicating properties of alcohol with the lung damage associated with smoking—to be any different?”

Maybe because alcohol and tobacco are both toxic and addictive, while marijuana is not? Maybe because people swapping productivity-killing pills for medical marijuana are better workers?

By Sabet’s reckoning, Colorado and Washington should have incurred over $10 billion in social costs from legal weed—something even he won’t try to claim. Instead, they’re using pot money for public benefit, like building schools.

FEAR: “Marijuana intoxication doubles your car crash risk.”

FACT: Colorado and Washington traffic fatalities, non-fatality crashes, and marijuana DUI charges remained steady or declined since legalization.

Washington State Office of Financial Management

Sabet told Gov. Jennifer Granholm on Current TV back in 2013 that the British Medical Journal published a study showing double the car crash risk for drivers who test positive for THC.

But other studies have shown that if you adjust for age, gender, and alcohol use, positive THC detection has no bearing whatsoever on crash risk.

“One possibility is that people who smoke marijuana share qualities—being young, male, and risk-taking,” wrote researchers back in 2009, “that would increase their risk of road traffic accidents even in the absence of marijuana use.”

“For marijuana, the unadjusted odds ratio was 1.25, but after statistically adjusting for gender, age, race/ethnicity, and driver alcohol concentration,” the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration confirmed in 2017, “there was no significant contribution to crash risk from any drug.”

FEAR: “Today’s marijuana is 10 times more dangerous than the marijuana of the ‘60s that many parents smoked in their dorm rooms.”

FACT: Nobody’s parents were smoking 1-to-3 percent THC marijuana back in college!

Sabet told Salon that whopper based on federal potency data from the 1970s that sampled dried-out ditchweed sitting in hot evidence lockers. That data does not show any THC values above 3 percent until 1994, with values as low as 1.38 percent.

Yes, marijuana is stronger these days, but it’s not as if Cheech & Chong in the 1970s or Snoop & Dre in the 1990s were smoking schwag. As I’ve shown above, those “dangers” Kevin Sabet predicted—greater addiction, social costs, and car crashes from today’s legal not-your-parents’-Woodstock-Weed—just didn’t materialize.

Sabet told me personally as he toured Oregon during our 2014 legalization push that the more the public sees of the results of marijuana legalization, the more their opinions will change.

Given that national public support for legalization is at 68 percentand Oklahoma just passed California-style medical marijuana, I guess we’ll have to give him that one.

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON HIGH TIMES, CLICK HERE.

https://hightimes.com/news/legalization/five-years-marijuana-legalization-what-didnt-happen/

[pardontheglueman]

Van Morrison at St. David’s Hall

Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Bob Dylan and then who? Marvin Gaye? Brian Wilson? or, perhaps, Aretha Franklin, to take their place alongside those legendary figureheads on Rock ‘n’ Roll’s very own Mount Rushmore? Well, my own vote would go to the iconic Van Morrison (in fact I’d put him front and centre of that monumental line-up). The facts - Morrison is the recipient of a half-dozen Grammys and a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Brits, as well as having been inducted into the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame and its equally prestigious song-writing equivalent - don’t, by themselves, fully explain the esteem in which Morrison has been held by successive generations of fans, critics and musicians alike. Ultimately, of course, it’s about the songs and whether they stand the test of time. It’s fair to say that come jukebox jury judgment day, Morrison won’t exactly be quaking in his boots.

Morrison’s record matches up to any other songwriter in the rock ‘n’ roll era, having penned classics like “Gloria”, “Brown Eyed Girl”, “Moondance”, “Listen to the Lion”, “Domino”, “Into the Mystic”, and “Madame George” before he’d even reached his 25th birthday! What’s more, these songs are still only the tip of a magnificent iceberg; there are countless other Morrison compositions that stand comparison with anything in the pantheon of popular music.  Van sings the blues, soul, country, Jazz and good old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll with a truly unimpeachable conviction. Forget the debate that rages over the significance of his stream of consciousness poetry, his toe-curling mysticism and his unappealing personality. It’s always been about his songs.

Part of the ritual of attending a Van Morrison gig is the anticipation that he’ll play one of your absolute favourites, something way out of left-field that he’s seldom performed before, balanced against the palpable frustration afterwards, when you ruminate on a set full of middle-of-the-road material (“Stranded” and “Magic Time”, anybody?), of what might have been.

Judging by the fascinating website Setlist.FM, which gives a running total of Morrison’s live performances, we can expect to hear Moondance, a song which has become part of the easy-listening lexicon and which Morrison has performed a grand total of 233 times, but not the enchanting “And it Stoned Me”, which inexcusably, Morrison has only played a paltry six times in 45 years!

The first surprise of the evening comes when the band takes to the stage. Morrison is backed by a small, five-piece combo, which incredibly, given his reputation as the best arranger of horns in the business, doesn’t include a brass section. Morrison himself does all the heavy lifting, doubling up on the saxophone on virtually every number. It’s a tribute to the quality of the ensemble, ably led by musical director Paul Moran who contributes on piano, organ and trumpet, (sometimes all in the same song!), that the often unfamiliar arrangements work so well.

The gig started with perfunctory versions of “Higher than the World” and “Close Enough for Jazz” but really caught fire with an extremely rare take of the glorious “Full Force Gale” (only the ninth performance ever!) from the much underrated album Into the Music (1979) and a scintillating duet with backing singer Dana Masters on “Carrying a Torch”.

Morrison is joined on stage, midway through his set, by P.J. Proby for a tub-thumping duet of the Sam Cooke’s classic “Bring it on Home”, which turned out to be one of the highlights of the evening.

Indeed, this was a gig where Morrison was keen to emphasise his R&B roots and happy, even, to dust down some of his quintessential Them songs. There was a blistering reprise of “Baby Please Don’t Go”, a top-ten hit in 1965, which segued perfectly into the prison blues of Parchman Farm and there were unbelievably thrilling renditions, too, of Morrison favourites “Turn on Your Love-light” (Bobby Bland) and “I Believe in my Soul” (Ray Charles), the latter having been a staple of his live shows in the halcyon days of the legendary Caledonia Soul Orchestra.

While the accent tonight was firmly on Morrison’s affection for the blues, there was still time for a sublimely sympathetic rendition of the Tony Bennett classic “Who can I Turn To?” which Sinatra himself would have been proud of, a well-received “Whenever God Shines his Light” as well as a predictably re-jigged, but entirely acceptable version, of “Moondance” ( Van’s thankfully never fallen into Dylan’ self-indulgent trap of making his re-worked songs entirely unrecognisable to the average fan). A fine gig, then, but The Belfast Cowboy still had a trick or two up his sleeve that made for a stunning finale.

Astral Weeks has long been my favourite album, but I’ve never been lucky enough to witness even a single performance of any of its eight tracks in thirty years of attending Van Morrison concerts. Even when Morrison recorded Astral Weeks live at the Hollywood Bowl in 2009 and embarked on a world tour to promote it, he had run out of steam by the time he rolled up at the Welsh Millennium Centre, refusing to play anything from it at all!  Even during his sequence of majestic gigs at the King’s Hotel in Newport in the nineties, when he was often at his most animated and inspired and where, on one memorable occasion, he jumped off the stage in the middle of “Gloria” and broke into a verse of “Auld Lang Syne”, did he ever contemplate knocking out something from Astral Weeks!

So, I refused to believe my ears when the band began to strike up “Ballerina”, perhaps the greatest song on that landmark album. It was an impassioned, almost delirious reading of the song, ending with Morrison standing alone in the wings, repeating over and over again the spellbinding new lyric, ‘22 blocks high in the concrete jungle / here comes the fuzz’. It was surreal and supremely moving, certainly worth the thirty-year wait. To round off an excellent gig, Morrison encored with another masterpiece the soul-stirring “Into the Mystic”; perhaps the greatest of all his songs.

With Duets; Reworking the Catalogue still nestled in the top 50, it was perhaps a surprise that tonight’s two-hour show featured only three songs (“Higher Than the World”, “Carrying a Torch” and “Whatever Happened to P.J. Proby”) from his well-received 40th studio album). Morrison, of course, has always been something of a conscientious objector when it comes to voluntarily enlisting in the promotion of his own records, and whilst he’s sometimes taken his un-civil disobedience to notorious extremes, there is surely something admirable about an artist who’s refused to “sell out” for over half a century.

Ultimately, this was an engaging set, one which covered most of the phases of Morrison’s unique career, albeit with a refreshing emphasis on the blues. Morrison was in fine voice throughout and he put his heart and soul into each and every number. What more could you ask of the old champion?

For an in-depth account of Van Morrison’s love affair with the blues http://www.oocities.org/tracybjazz/hayward/van-the-man.info/reviews/1991digthis.html

[elisehu]

In general, my experiences during these short bursts of time in the states are always memorable because they are so abbreviated, and therefore I have to really make the most of every moment. In my brief moments of downtime I a.) kept going to the Au Bon Pain next to my DC hotel to get giant iced teas and breakfast sandwiches and b.) watched some domestic cable news, which let’s face it, is pretty terrifying these days. The programming is interrupted by catheter and other medical device commercials, which are clues I should not be watching.

Highlights that I can piece together through the jet lag:

The Washington Half

Finally visited the Blacksonian — the new Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture — on the day I landed in DC. Eyes still bloodshot from the flight and jet lag setting in, Matt Thompson, his partner Bryan and I powered through and saw crazy amazing stuff like the Parliament Funkadelic MOTHERSHIP. Yes, yes we did.

Friend Claire came down from New York for a hang. We lingered over a three and a half hour dinner at a mezcal place, not because of the meal but because we had some epic catching up to do.

Hanson, you know, of mmmmbop fame from 20 years ago, played a Tiny Desk Concert on the first day I went back to work in DC. They actually played two, because they recorded their very special Christmas Tiny Desk, too. Taylor (the middle one) and I joked around a bit about how the dinosaur on his Christmas sweater was wearing the same sweater, creating some sort of ugly Christmas sweater matrix.

One of my ex-work spouses, Javaun, took a train up from Lynchburg (where he now lives) to spend Tuesday evening hanging out and eating barbecue and drinking beers together. I can’t even remember all the ground we covered because, beer.

Don Gonyea gave me advice about work and life, which is always much appreciated.

Finally ate at the State Department cafeteria in Foggy Bottom — a bucket list item.

Because I am support the notion of spending money to save time, I hired April Yvonne, friend of my always glam friend Angie Goff, to shop for me. She picked out racks of clothes in a few Georgetown shops in advance, so all I had to do was try things on and make decisions. The whole excursion only took two hours in total and I was hella wardrobed for the weekend and work by the end. Endorse.

The Austin Half

Met the following babies who have joined us since I’d last been in Austin: Baby Adaline. Baby Thomas. Baby Marcella. Baby EJ. Baby Franklin. Toddler Hattie. Toddler Emma. Missed Baby Sam, who is fattening up in a NICU right now, but boy was I overjoyed to see his parents.

Sam’s dad Jimmy is my ultimate favorite eating partner. He also cooks delicious food and personally catered my engagement party with Spanish tapas since he trained to be a chef in the kitchens of Spain and Charleston, SC. Because of serendipity, the weekend I was in Austin was also the Far East Food Festival, in which some sixty Austin restaurants served up healthy portions of various Asian creations and Jimmy was judging the food. He added me as a judge so we CHOWED DOWN until the heat and the food consumption did us in. I had to quit early because I just couldn’t eat anymore. Embarrassing, but true.

Due to the abbreviated time, there were extra meals sandwiched in. On Friday I had a cheeseburger appetizer at P Terry’s while en route to Cooper’s barbecue where we disappeared pounds of brisket, sausage and ribs plus jalapeno mac-and-cheese, potato salad and the standard vat of pickles plus white bread. (Also Cooper’s offers free beans!) This was my favorite meal because of the strong appetizer IN THE CAR ON THE WAY to BBQ and my reliable eating buddies, Blake and Justin, joined to work up some serious meat sweats. I probably could have recovered for third lunch after this but we had do disperse.

Reunited with the dim sum club on Saturday morning to eat our faces off.

Did not see my oracle, Harry Whittington (the guy Dick Cheney accidentally shot in the face) but did see Bachelor Brad, who we seem to run into in Austin pretty much all the time. Is he everywhere? Is it because he’s a twin?

Surprised my goddaughter Marion Cass at her school, which led to second graders drawing me a bunch of butterflies and teaching me how to play a game called Sleeping Queen (need to get this for my daughters). Marion Cass also had me over to her house Sunday afternoon where she showed me how she can do things like SPLITS IN THE AIR because, gymnastics and being seven.

The purpose of this Austin return was to attend Friend Todd’s wedding. Did it, and so glad, because I love weddings! I also get to take partial credit for this union in the butterfly-flaps-its-wings kind of way, because I brought Todd to the Texas Tribune in 2009 as we were starting it. Here’s what happened: He was a weirdo who was teaching me Final Cut Pro as a part of a class I took at Austin Film School. I decided he was adorable even though I’m pretty sure he didn’t wash his hair at the time and was always railing about the dangers of aspartame and fluoride. Started calling him Hot Toddy behind his back (he later confronted me about this and yep, guilty) and convinced our boss Evan to give him a job at the Tribune because we were in wild wild west days of throwing jobs around. It was through this job that he met Carsi, his bride.

Reeve and I ran the hike and bike trail and joked around the whole time, just like the good ol’ days.

Sent up a flare in DC, and again in Austin, for big group happy hours. Both led to the happiest reunions, predictably. In Austin, April, my BFF from those halcyon days of my partying/Texas lege-covering twenties in Austin, HAPPENED to also be back after moving away to Toronto a few years ago. We got to see each other for about twenty minutes. I’ll take it.

The last time I was in America, I was two people. This time it was just me and my pump, which had to be used every few hours for the duration of the nine-day trip, the bottles and bags of expressed milk piling up in my respective hotel freezers until I had so much that I paid $400 in heavy baggage fees to bring all that liquid gold home. In order to keep it frozen while flying, I snuck in a trip to Ace Hardware in DC and got a giant padded cooler bag, which ended up being perfect. Thanks, Ace Hardware.

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First stop upon getting home: Matt Thompson

Blacksonian.

Mothership!

Hanson’s Christmas sweaters.

Kevin and David at work

Tuesday night drinking club reunites

Javaun and Chris

Don Gonyea, everybody.

Nate Rott put this cooler together for my milk.

My work product after three days.

With my god baby, who’s so big now

Surprising second graders.

The girls liked the Korean crayons

Worth flying 8,000 miles, yknow?

We cleaned up for Todd.

Snack at Todd’s wedding

Just married

Watching Austin’s pride parade from the wedding venue

Baby EJ’s first dim sum.

Reeve meets baby Thomas at a brunch

Baby Adaline, one of many babies I met

Hotel room hang with Nurse and the brood

Hattie in my Austin shower.

  First Time To Trump's America In general, my experiences during these short bursts of time in the states are always memorable because they are so abbreviated, and therefore I have to really make the most of every moment.

[nomanwalksalone]

STYLE AND THE DAMME

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Late in his new series Jean-Claude Van Johnson, Jean-Claude Van Damme, in tailored suit and open-collared white shirt, gestures up from his Aston Martin to his secret hideout with the instantly classic setup line, “No one has looked for me here for 20 years.” It’s a Blockbuster Video. As always, Van Damme is “on the run from the law, military or mafia,” but just this once, perfectly on the nose with this quip. And with it, three wildly different cultural icons, Van Damme, the tailored suit and Aston Martin, come into a strange but telling momentary alignment from the vastly different places they were in those 20 years ago.

20 years ago Van Damme was just over the peak of his fame, a coked-up Belgian kickboxing force who was fresh off The Quest, a big-budget, less satisfying remake of Van Damme’s best film, Bloodsport. He was about to star in a film about exploding jeans with the SNL copier guy Rob Schneider. Even better than it sounds, Knock Off knocked Van Damme off his pedestal and into the direct-to-video purgatory in which he’s labored since then. And labor he has, dedicated to actually becoming an actor of range and depth despite none of his audience actually caring. Direct-to-video films generally get ignored. Popularly, we expect them mainly to be watched by fans of fading stars expecting the predictable. It’s poignant, then, that Van Damme turned in a convincing performance in a pastiche of Bad Lieutenant and showed he could telegraph real pathos in John Hyams’ unfathomably good DTV Universal Soldier sequels Universal Soldier: Regeneration and Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning.  

Van Damme didn’t have to expend that effort. Witness the trajectory of his erstwhile rival Steven Seagal, a trajectory of almost cosmological increasing expansion behind yellow-tinted shooting glasses and spray-on-hair, accommodated in dozens of unwatchable movies by screenplays and direction that allow Seagal literally not to move. Seagal’s kept his many-chinned profile up in recent years courting tinpot authoritarians in the United States and Eastern Europe. Unlike Seagal, in recent years Van Damme has gained attention and respect by embracing his own ridiculousness. He played up this self-awareness with surprising comedic and dramatic talent in 2009’s JCVD, a scathing satire of his own dead-end career and broken life. He brings this willingness to both mock and explore himself to Jean-Claude Van Johnson, where he plays a retired actor who is actually a retired spy. Shoots for cheesy movies in Eastern Europe, such as a chop-socky reboot of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (“It’s time to get Hucked”), are just covers to investigate and infiltrate drug gangs, diabolical masterminds, and eventually the rotten entertainment industry itself. 

The key to that last mission, taking down the corrupt talent and espionage agency that had used him, is looking the part, 2017 edition. Looking a part means meeting all the clichés, the easy expectations of a role. For that of Erstwhile Movie Star, today it means pulling up to the agency in an Aston Martin in a tailored suit, no tie. It certainly didn’t always. 20 years ago, Aston Martin had nowhere to go but up, or into oblivion. Since then, oblivion has claimed most of the other romantically exotic British car brands like TVR and Bristol. Aston used to mean just Bond films, Bond satires, and bad Bond copies. By the early 1990s, its annual sales had slumped to fewer than 200 cars worldwide and its main model, the Virage, cost $250,000. I’ve only seen one of those ever, late at night in my college town decades ago, looking like something from another world. 

Today, thanks to prudent investment and positioning by Ford and Tata, Astons are a shorthand for the showbizzy glitterati of our world, occasionally favoring us with an appearance in our grocery store parking lot or, with motor gunning, running the red light we’d prudently braked for. Hugh Grant bought one after filming About A Boy because his tween co-star thought it would be cool; Isla Fisher drove one playing Ron Howard’s vapid daughter in Arrested Development. Van Damme’s Aston is the same sort of shorthand: predictable, expensive flamboyance to be expected from a has-been with money. 

What does this mean for the suit? 20 years ago it was in the wilderness, a wilderness grown out of the backlash to 1980s corporatism, a wilderness so wild that for a few seasons designers were trying to put men in waistcoats, frock coats or Nehru jackets instead of sport coats or suits. Those didn’t take, but for the rest of us casualwear replaced the suit with identikit billowing blue shirts and baggy khakis in business settings, and with jeans, sweats or anything else, really, in other settings. 20 years ago the suit had just barely begun to creep back in certain circles in the United Kingdom as a so-called smart formal outfit for social outings, with a nice shirt but never a tie. It was too soon for that reminder of 1980s correctness. Since that time, Hedi Slimane goosed the “tailored look” with his tight suits, while fashion seized on the financial crises of 2001 and 2008 to push a return to supposedly more serious dressing. In the fashion idiom, the opposite of frivolity is expensive conservatism, ergo the suit. The tie, too, fought its way back up for a couple of years of air, but not in the world of cliché and shorthand, where smart actor of a certain age means nice suit, white shirt (anything else would be too busy) and no tie – no ties to the normal working world.

Today, Van Damme, Aston Martin and the smart suit are in alignment, all in fashion again… for the moment. Whether Aston Martin stays in fashion will depend on its owners and backers keeping technologically modern cars in production and promoting them. As to Van Damme and the suit? It’s just as ironically sad as Van Damme becoming a good actor that the suit, formerly the inescapable classic clothing item, returned only as a fashion item. This means that it can and will be replaced by something else in fashion, like yoga pants for men. Maybe Van Damme, too, is only having a moment as a whimsical nostalgia item like the suit. 

But Jean-Claude Van Johnson has a real lesson for us beyond this sentimentality. Although it is about an actor who is actually an international spy, its reality is an actor playing his persona and pretending to find himself. His choices are to hide from the world behind cabinets of Pop Tarts and made-up memories, or to engage with the uncanny and unfair demands of an unfamiliar age. He chooses to engage, despite his heyday being long behind him and the things that he had fought for illusory. Remember that in fact there was no more genteel age of yore, only pasts of different levels of exploitation and oligarchy. The classy actors we now associate with elegance were actors playing parts, both on screen and in public life. No halcyon days await our return. However we adapt to changing times and changing understandings of what is right, ultimately we can best face down challenging times by being ourselves in the moment. Or as Van Damme-from-the-future reminds us, “TimeCops don’t exist.” We cannot change the timestream to fit our illusions. We can only do with what we have: our personality, not our persona, and from time to time, still, a nice suit as both armor and disguise.