“Can’t go to a movie the first week it opens. Why? Because niggers are shooting at the screen.” —Chris Rock, 1997
Still wondering if Marco Rubio should get to sit behind that Resolute desk? Wonder no more!
I’m indebted to Michelle Malkin for finding this @marcorubio tweet, date-stamped July 21:
Anyone know a good theatre in Manchester or Des Moines to catch #StraightOuttaCompton? Trailer looks amazing.
Where to start?
If you see a brand-new trailer on July 21, that means the movie isn’t actually in theaters yet. (Grandpa.) That’s why the word “PREVIEW” appears in big type, all caps, on that green card in the opening seconds. Next Rubio will be asking where he can buy the DVD…
And there’s nothing “amazing” about this particular preview anyhow. From the looks of it, Straight Outta Compton is just another Hollywood biopic. HEAR the excruciating “Hello my brother the Attorney General!”-style expository dialogue! SEE the fast-paced yet weirdly ponderous push-button imagery: corny period duds; “Hey, it’s that guy!” stunt casting (with accompanying stunt haircuts); the smash-cut smashing of glass and the chanting of crowds and the inevitable “uh-oh” blackout thud that signals That Bad Thing That Famously Happened.
Each cynically spliced snippet is designed to deliver Milgram-like jolts of nostalgia-recognition-anticipation to the film’s intended (paying, all-important first-weekend) audience.
Of which I am decidedly not a member.
Straight Outta Compton is about the making of N.W.A’s—that’s Niggaz Wit Attitudes’—“historic” first “gansta rap” album in 1988, and the lives of group members Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, and, frankly, who cares who else? Seriously: Go look them up yourself.
The English language doesn’t have a word to convey how little I care about this movie, rap/hip-hop/“urban” “music” in general, and the thugs, hustlers, and ignorami who create and listen to it.
I’m a fair trend-spotter, so it pains me to admit I was wrong about rap. I gave it five years—ten, tops—but it hung on like Terri Schiavo. How? At one point, the phrase “Rap is crap” was almost as ubiquitous as its predecessor, “Disco sucks.” Like “Bloody Mary” in reverse, “Disco sucks” had caused an entire international billion-dollar musical genre to disappear in disgrace.
So I kept waiting for the rap version of Disco Demolition Night. It never came.
Instead, this monotonous “music” now gets honored in the Rock and Roll (?!) Hall of Fame. Weirdly (or not), whites—or in Rubio’s case, nonblacks—are the genre’s largest fan base.
At this point, compulsive Taki’s commenters will be scrolling down to the comments to blame this sad, sinister state of pop culture affairs on “the JOOOOOOOZ!!!” I’m risking my monthly ZOG check here, but when outlets as divergent as Farrakhan’s Final Call and The Forward agree, who am I to argue for once? Yep: The Jews did it.
When it comes to hip-hop, gentiles—from wiggers to hipsters—are at their embarrassing worst. They have adopted the ugly slang and even uglier clothing, debate hip-hop’s supposed subtle permutations like they’re wine vintages, and know way too many details about the genre’s sordid, high-body-count history: East Coast vs. West Coast “beefs,” and who shot Biggie or Smallie or Snoopy.
Hell, even I know that the most notorious song on N.W.A’s debut was a little ditty called “Fuck tha Police.” Say, is that “amazing” too, Marco? What will the Cleveland delegates think?
Oh, and when you finally track down that theater you’re looking for, will there be plenty of said police inside and out?
Universal is offering money for private security for theaters during the opening weekend for “Straight Outta Compton.”
And law-enforcement agencies in Los Angeles increased their presence at theaters showing the film, reportedly in response to requests from theater owners.
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