Month: February 2024

Daily Prompt: “If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?”

/ Ray Van Horn, Jr. / 13 Comments
Daily writing prompt
If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?
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If it were in my power to purge, cancel, ban, whatever you want to call it, one word from lexicon, it would be the “n” word.

As a Caucasian man, I’m the least qualified person based on race to comment on this, many of you may say. However, sitting outside the zone, I posit the “n” word is the most obnoxious, degrading and unwelcome term in the English language.

Swapping an “a” for “er” does not take the power back from hatred, as conventional thought has alarmingly force-fed into our current society. I offer an alternate view and invite you to take it or leave it. I’m a minority in my opinion, so much my mixed-race son understands and respects my outlook and censors himself in my company but would just as soon see me “get over myself.” My rebuttal has always been and always will be, I will not bow in my convictions on this subject.

What would Malcolm X, Dr. King, Baynard Rustin, Rosa Parks, Huey P. Newton or Ella Barker, who loved their race so much they risked all to stoke a justful uprising say right now? How could any of them stomach the reek of a modern society flaunting a despicable word amongst its own, for which said freedom fighters and civil rights figureheads gave their lives to be rid of? A word carrying such divisive ridicule, shame and degradation it licensed racists of the world to go unchecked until the 1960s. Blood spilled, martyrs made, yet that goddamn word still lingers deep into the new millennium. No matter how you rebrand it, the “n” word is still venom.

For all the progressions we’ve made in America, we’ve regressed three steps backwards as racism continues to lurk in certain pockets of our country. One reason is not only from a pass-down of bigotry between hate-mongering generations, but the inexcusable pushing of the “n” word as street (and now mainstream) orthodox. Richard Pryor was flagrant of dropping the full monty “n” word for comedic purposes during the 1970s, but nowadays, you can’t get away from the “a” connotation in this era’s (or the 1990s, for that matter) hip-hop, rap, entertainment and sports communities. Dropped between friends, enemies, even non-acquaintances, it’s shameful and as dumb as white folk exchanging amongst themselves, “Waddup, my honkey?”

Worse are the discussions I hear over who gets a free pass to use the “n” word in other cultures and walks of life, based on street-level worth. It’s gotten so out of control, I’ve heard youngblood gangstas, rappers, athletes and comics not only toss out the “n” word in equal increments as f-bombs and doofus-minded, horndog sexism (where’s Queen Latifah to bark in protest “Who you calling a bitch?”), but to claim white rapper Eminem (one of the greatest of all-time, to be sure) has the open invite to use it without leading to fisticuffs. As Cris Carter used to say on ESPN, C’mon, man.

Long and short, friends, the “n” word as it’s used today, does its own community a tremendous disservice. It shows a communal disrespect for both its heritage and its contemporary culture. It tells the racists of the world a large percentage operates under a disturbingly brainwashed acceptance of deprecatory self-loathing. The J. Edgar Hoover Administration infiltrated sectors of urban California six decades ago, pumping drugs and guns into oppressed hellholes they became. The brutally honest 1990s films Boyz ‘n the Hood and Menace II Society were not celebrations of gang life and its “n” word-huffing nihilism; they were caveats of Hoover’s slum-created poisoned well carrying on in destitution and self-deprecation. If anything, “gangsta” has gotten worse and even more dangerous today, hitting not only the inner cities of every major American metropolis, but well past their suburbs. The so-called reclamation of the “n” word is one reason why.

The longer the “n” word prevails in modern culture amongst its own populace, the racists continue to win.

–Ray Van Horn, Jr.

Godzilla 1977 Mattel Shogun Warriors Toy Back in My Possession…a Half-Sized Replica, Anyway

/ Ray Van Horn, Jr. / 4 Comments

So I did a thing yesterday. Longtime readers of Roads Lesser Traveled will remember an older post on this topic.

As a kid, my two favorite toys ever were the Star Wars 1978 Death Star playset which I managed to replace a year ago. The other was a 1977 Godzilla from Mattel’s Shogun Warriors line.

I had one of the mecha bot warriors to square off against that classic Godzilla. Both could launch their fists. Godzilla had plastic fire breath you activated with a lever behind his head. The Shogun Warrior fired missiles from his boobies, lol.

Not quite the same as the old days, buuuuuut…

You just know as a kid, I often played cross genre and staged their epic brawls in the vicinity of my Death Star, which of course meant Godzilla got to mash it up. Not even Vader had enough dark side Force to stop Godzilla!

I thought about getting that replaced lately as well until Godzilla: Minus One drove the collector market out of its mind with asking prices of a grand to $1,800.00. Lo, comes along a half-sized replica of my beloved Godzilla toy from Super7 and their Shogun Ultimates line.

TJ is being such a good sport with all this Godzilla chicanery I am putting her through, but I got this at an absolute steal, and it does all that the original does except roll on its feet. I am beyond nerdy content.

–Ray Van Horn, Jr.

Five Things Friday – 2/23/24

/ Ray Van Horn, Jr. / 4 Comments

Hey, hey! It’s been a while since I’ve done of these, but I’m feeling up to a Five Things Friday as I dive deep into writing my next novel.

Without further preamble, let’s roll ’em!

One: A few takeaways following a digestion period after seeing the new Bob Marley film, One Love on opening night, February 14th. TJ and I deferred our Valentine’s Day to take the kiddo on opening night, who is so obsessed with Marley, he has self-taught his way through “Redemption Song” on the guitar. We brought the folks along and had a wonderful time at the movie. It could stand an extra half hour to fill in many gaps and it could’ve been more balls-out, but Kingsley Ben-Adir nails the subtleties and nuances to Bob Marley and sings like a champ.

I adored the flashback sequence to the early days of The Wailers and the joyous recreation of “Simmer Down,” my favorite early years Marley song. It paints the picture for the future Ska scene, as does a gnarly scene of Bob and the boys in England at an early Clash show. The Clash being The Beatles of punk rock and the first to blend reggae into punk. So many UK hardcore acts followed suit. Sidebar, I have been a longtime fan of Rastacore legends Bad Brains, the most passionate punk and reggae unit who ever walked the path of Jah. Bob Marley, I and I, opened the door for them all.

One Love is well acted, diligent in what it presents and at times is larger than life. I especially loved watching the studio recording session scenes here, having been in the music industry. Not perfect, but not the bane many critics have unjustly torched it for. Go see it, if anything, as a reminder Bob Marley’s exodus and returns to Jamaica were for Jah people as well as all of us.

Two: It’s been Revenge of the Nineties in our household lately. Kiddo may be Bob Marley and Michael Jackson-obsessed, but he’s also been submerged in modern rap and hip hop. I like about a handful of the newer offerings, since I followed the original scenes back in the 1980s and Nineties. The kid’s been diving into Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Ice Cube (might as well call out the entire N.W.A. posse since Easy-E’s also in the mix) and, to a lesser extent, Tupac Shakur. He and I watched the bio film Straight Outta Compton together, though it’s taken a hand of guidance considering the tough, high class hood we moved from and the influences there which impacted him negatively. He still looks at me like I’m a weirdo for telling him he should dig deeper into the roots and explore A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Fu Schnickens and one of the godfathers of it all, Afrikka Bambaataa.

Meanwhile, TJ and I are drowned at Hulu binging The X-Files and the Animaniacs reboot, two shows dear to our hearts back in the day. I tell her how amusing it is how people took X-Files so seriously in the 90s as avant garde sci-fi and paranormal drama. Does it hold up well today? Well, somewhat. It’s dated already and everyone knows how downright silly the show got in the mid-to-later seasons, but there’s a certain comfort we’re taking from it nonetheless. Ba ba ba bummmm ba bumm bumm bummm…doo doo doo doo dooooooo….

As for Hulu’s reincarnation of Wakko, Yakko and Dot’s shenanigans from a few years ago, we’re halfway through the first season and it’s either generated side-splitting laughter like the old days, or it’s been meh. Doing away with of a lot of the support cast like Mindy and Buttons and Slappy Squirrel, this reboot of Animaniacs goes right to its bread-and-butter with the Warners being transplanted 30 years later, to more of the dinky iconoclasm sided by loveable, doltish Narfdom. I’m talking Pinky and the Brain, of course. It’s likewise comforting to hear all the voices back in their places, and the show has gotten a little extra daring and risqué trying to compete against the likes of the downright crass Velma. As TJ likes to say, nobody is safe coming under satirical fire in 2020’s Animaniacs. Me, I’m just glad to hear Wakko still has his belching chops!

Three: I’ve cut back drastically on alcohol intake, prescribing myself a healthier overall diet to match my workout regimen and smarter choices food-wise. However, my cousin and best man at our wedding, Shawn, bestowed me this bourbon, Blackened as a wedding gift. Kentucky Straight endorsed by Metallica and barrel crafted by an absolute master, Wes Anderson. Could be like Godzilla: Minus One, the G.O.A.T. of its kind.

Four: My view in the can after my book signing at Protean Records in Baltimore, MD. Punk rock, Zappa and the Village People. Might be the coolest bathroom decor I’ve ever dawdled my business in.

Five: I am driving TJ batshit crazy with Godzilla ever since Minus One came out. Three viewings at the theater, rolling through many of the older films (I did catch her interest with the American Godzilla 2014, at least) playing the snot out of the film’s enthralling score by Naoki Satō (have a listen to the ascending glory that is “Resolution” below to send you on your way ready, like The Brain, to conquer the world), reading DC’s Justice League vs. Godzilla vs. Kong, ordering two Minus One posters (one in Japanese) and digging into a couple of old Godzilla toys I managed to hold onto.

Funny is funny, though, and this Love Boat-Godzilla meme above had me roaring for minutes.

–Ray Van Horn, Jr.

From the Depths…True Horror

/ Ray Van Horn, Jr. / 2 Comments

I used to have a quasi-phobia of drowning that hung around until my early twenties. Funny enough, it never stopped me from swimming, diving into water and especially hangng in the Atlantic Ocean for hours at a time. Even when my parents took me to see Jaws in 1977 at the Edmondson Drive-In near Baltimore, Maryland. I’d slept in the back seat through some of it, but what I caught wouldn’t leave me for life.

Today, I am still found in the ocean with my kid, who can’t get enough of it himself. I love water and the undine elementals always call to me in contest with the earthen gnomes already captivating me whenever we’re hiking. Water calms me, moreover, it soothes me. I’m at peace next to a body of water. I laugh at my younger self, since I’d foolishly cheated death climbing mountains without ropes during my college years and would’ve fallen to my death once had there not been a branch within reach to save me.

Water is a safe haven for me these days, since I’m not on a commercial freighter facing down the raging tempests they do. However, within the span of a few months, I’ve seen two of the most terrifying images from pop culture I’ve seen in ages, both lurking from the depths of the unknown.

I’m talking about Godzilla’s petrifying glare of vengeance from the fathoms in Godzilla: Minus One and also from last week’s release of Batman # 143, part two of an abbreviated three-part interlude story, “Joker: Year One.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Clown Prince of Crime so damned frightening.

Comic fans, however, have been absolutely geeking about the page which follows this horrific image. The next one bearing a gaunt, naked and beyond creepy Joker striking a garish Jesus pose sure to unsettle comic geeks and non. I have only been reading Wonder Woman, Catwoman and Justice League vs. Godzilla vs. Kong from DC these days, but as a longtime Batfan who’s taken a break due to the gross (and expensive) saturation of the character by the imprint, these images have already scarred me for my remaining days.

I’m still trying to decide if the undines are equally mortified or pleased as hell.

–Ray Van Horn, Jr.