Tuesday, November 6, 2007
The Boondocks Catch-Up: Or Die Trying
Gotta love what we're working with on this second season of Black America's finest television program. "Soul Plane 2: The Blackjacking!" Wow. I'm just glad there's someone out there that hates the institution of "Soul Plane" as much as I do. What confuses me though, is how McGruder was able to convince the actual Soul Plane actors to contribute to his denouncement of their work. The 50 Cent was obviously fake, but hysterical. However, if those weren't Mo'nique, Snoop Dogg and Gary Anthony "Flame" Williams' real voices, they had some damn good impersonators. Actually, I don't think it'd be too difficult to get Gary Anthony Williams to engage in his own parody as he does phenomenal work week-in and week-out as the voice of Uncle Ruckus. I know how difficult is for black actors to find work, hence productions like "Soul Plane," "Snakes On A Plane," and any other film involving flying porch monkeys. So perhaps they all had a field negro chitlin break moment. Oh, you don't know what that is? Next time you're having a shitty day on your own respective plantation (office) and you can't do anything but laugh about how tight your neck shackle (collared shirt) is with your fellow slaves (co-workers), be sure to remember what I said. Keeping to the slavery parallel, I too have seen a "funny lynching." I'm sure you're wondering how I could witness such a horrific event and detract humor in any degree, but the bootleg of "Soul Plane" my aunt owned was a clear enough copy. This episode did a great job of outlining The Negro Movie Experience. I used to think the AMC 25 in Times Square was a free theater. You could always get in through the unattended staircase. The last time I went to the movie theater, I shit you not, there was a man right in front of me with a 10-piece from KFC. He even looked back and tried to sell a couple of pieces to my date and I. Of course, we declined. The nigga didn't have any extra crispy, so we weren't interested. "We got one bag of potato chips... Everybody take one chip..." This, of course, was at the Magic Johnson Theater on 125th Street in Harlem. Not that Mr. McGruder needs any of my humble assistance or advice, but they should have had Magic Johnson mumbling all over the screen. "...and we can do it in our own cum-mooom-mit-tee." For the record, bootlegging IS worse than murder. If you bootleg, how the hell can Magic Johnson afford all them pre-workout AZT cocktails? If we don't pay to see Soul Plane, we're killing everyone who engages in irresponsible, raw dog sex in every city they find themselves. I can't live with that kind of shit on my conscience. Can you? It doesn't hurt that I've purchased several bootlegs with everything Riley yelled prevalently ingrained in them. "Move, nigga. Sit down. You gay! Booooooo!" Alright. Gotta run. My aunt invited me over to watch her newly-acquired bootleg of "Madea's Baat Mitzvah." I hate Tyler Perry too, but I can't wait to see if Madea tries to cornmeal fry the gefilte fish.