Saw this display in the train station in Madrid. The popular Spanish candy “Conguitos” celebrates 50 years of sweet and crunchy goodness.

I’m happy for the Conguitos product and all of its fans. But I’m even happier for the little Conguitos Neeegro, who finally, at long last, has gotten a full makeover. The balloonlike coon-lips frozen [...]]]>

Saw this display in the train station in Madrid. The popular Spanish candy “Conguitos” celebrates 50 years of sweet and crunchy goodness.

I’m happy for the Conguitos product and all of its fans. But I’m even happier for the little Conguitos Neeegro, who finally, at long last, has gotten a full makeover. The balloonlike coon-lips frozen into a perpetually uncritical smile have been replaced with a normal, fully articulating mouth that can relax when there’s no need to smile — just like white folks.

And the round, bewildered eyes staring mongolically into space are now focused, do you see that? They’re able to take in data and react to it.

In fact, right now, they’re seeing you and deciding, “Hey, you’re okay! I actually like you! And the coolest thing about it is that I’m not forced to. Holy shit, I can actually make a decision whether I like you or not! (Or pretend to like you if it’s easier that way.) It’s awesome being a person!”

Finally, they slimmed him down (all that watermelon expands the belly), decided he needn’t be naked all the time, and made him capable of displaying not just one, but two opposable thumbs. Nothing short of revolutionary!

In short, like a racist Pinocchio, the Conguitos Neeegro is now a full-fledged, average-intelligenced homo sapien. Lord knows it took long enough, but it finally happened. And they even dressed him up in a tux to celebrate the occasion.

Happy Birthday, Conguitos Boy! (Or “Conguitos Man”, if he’s got a Gary Coleman thing going on. After all, he is 50.) Enjoy your newfound status as a sentient human being. Just remember to use protection with all those chicks you’ll surely be banging.

Dentro de un mes, estrenaré mi primer show de comedia completamente autobiográfica, Por Eso Soy Así. Será en Teatreneu de Barcelona, y empezará el viernes 4 de Febrero. (Seguiré haciendo Planeta Catalunya en el Teatro Llantiol como siempre.)

De qué se trata Por Eso Soy Así? Pues de mi viaje de auto-descubrimiento, en que figuran fenómenos divertidos como [...]]]>

Dentro de un mes, estrenaré mi primer show de comedia completamente autobiográfica, Por Eso Soy Así. Será en Teatreneu de Barcelona, y empezará el viernes 4 de Febrero. (Seguiré haciendo Planeta Catalunya en el Teatro Llantiol como siempre.)

De qué se trata Por Eso Soy Así? Pues de mi viaje de auto-descubrimiento, en que figuran fenómenos divertidos como disfunción familiar, desórdenes alimenticios, relaciones bizarras, drogas, malos tratos, fugas de la ley… y todo antes de cumplir 25 años!

El show será en castellano, cada viernes a las 23:30 h. en la Sala Café Teatre de Teatreneu, en calle Terol 26 en el barrio de Gracia. Se puede hacer reservas a través de la web de Teatreneu. Debido a su material bastante chocante, es sólo apto para adultos.

[For maximum enjoyment of this video, I recommend turning the up volume LOUD!]

Schoolhouse Rock was a series of short musical, educational clips that would run on Saturday mornings when I was a kid. They remain immensely popular not only for my generation, but for later generations who didn’t grow up with the series.

Schoolhouse Rock was created [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEqRo7J_Y0Q

[For maximum enjoyment of this video, I recommend turning the up volume LOUD!]

Schoolhouse Rock was a series of short musical, educational clips that would run on Saturday mornings when I was a kid. They remain immensely popular not only for my generation, but for later generations who didn’t grow up with the series.

Schoolhouse Rock was created in the seventies, at the height of Black pride consciousness. To put it in perspective, Blacks had only recently been granted civil rights. Less than 15 years before, Black Americans couldn’t even vote and were brutally oppressed in daily life. In the seventies, schools were still being desegregated throughout the nation, including my own. Black children had few role models and heroes represented in the popular culture.

For this reason, the Black superhero in the “Verb: That’s What’s Happenin’” clip made a big impression on me. I remember thinking: “Wow! A Black Superman! Cool!” So I can’t even imagine how it must have affected Black kids to finally see a Black Superman, heroically rescuing people and receiving adoration just as any white superhero would.

Other details stand out in this cartoon: the happily integrated movie theater, the young Black protagonist making his way through the world with confidence, encouraged to dream about his future (as Martin Luther King did), climbing mountains, going to the movies alone and returning home safely to the loving arms of his mother. All this hope and optimism reflected in one cartoon, daring to put the dreams of a people into image and music.

I also remember from this era the slogan “Black is beautiful,” in conversation as well as printed on bumper stickers. “Black is beautiful” was the Black community’s attempt at self-healing, an effort to change the negative way white society saw Black people — and to change the way Black people saw themselves — after a couple hundred years of systematic denigration in American society.

I am certain that the Schoolhouse Rock cartoons, along with programs such as Sesame Street and The Electric Company, helped changed the consciousness of America. And that’s why they’ve become not just musical, but beloved cultural and historical artifacts.

Below is an American high-school’s recent interpretation of the same song. In my opinion, the performance lacks a bit of soul, but the students do their best considering that most of them are white and weren’t even born when Schoolhouse Rock was on TeeVee!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obw5NXzHL9I

Lyrics:

I get my thing in action (Verb!)
To be, to sing, to feel, to live (Verb!)
That’s what’s happenin’

I put my heart in action (Verb!)
To run, to go, to get, to give (Verb!)
(You’re what’s happenin’)

That’s where I find satisfaction, yeah! (Yeah!)
To search, to find, to have, to hold
(Verb! To be bold)
When I use my imagination (Verb!)
I think, I plot, I plan, I dream
Turning in towards creation (Verb!)
I make, I write, I dance, I sing
When I’m feeling really active (Verb!)
I run, I ride, I swim, I fly!
Other times when life is easy
(Oh!) I rest, I sleep, I sit, I lie.

(Verb! That’s what’s happenin’)
I can take a noun and bend it,
Give me a noun -
(Bat, boat, rake, and plow)
Make it a verb and really send it!
(Show me how)
Oh, I don’t know my own power. (Verb!)

I get my thing in action (Verb!)
In being, (Verb!) In doing, (Verb!)
In saying
A verb expresses action, being, or state of being. A verb makes a statement. Yeah, a verb tells it like it is!

(Verb! That’s what’s happenin’.)
I can tell you when it’s happenin’,
(Past, present, future tense)
Ooh! Tell you more about what’s happenin’,
(Say it so it makes some sense)
I can tell you who is happenin’!
(Verb, you’re so intense)
Every sentence has a subject.
(Noun, person, place, or thing)
Find that subject: Where’s the action?
(Verb can make a subject sing)
Take the subject: What is it? (What!)
What’s done to it? (What!)
What does it say?
(Verb, you’re what’s happenin’)

I can question like: What is it?
(Verb, you’re so demanding.)
I can order like: Go get it!
(Verb, you’re so commanding.)
When I hit I need an object
(Verb, hit! Hit the ball!)
When I see, I see the object
(Do you see that furthest wall?)

If you can see it there, put the ball over the fence, man!
Go ahead. Yeah, alright.
What?! He hit it. It’s going, it’s going, it’s gone!
(What!)

I get my thing in action.
(Verb, that’s what’s happenin’)
To work, (Verb!)
To play, (Verb!)
To live, (Verb!)
To love… (Verb!…)

My old NYC comedy pal Becky Donahue read my last post on the yellow “chinaman” makeup and hepped me to this now legendary incident, which somehow missed my radar when it happened. I don’t know how I could have been so distracted.  I must’ve been busy arguing with white Europeans about the existence of racism.

I’ve [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDlfgA7jfLE

My old NYC comedy pal Becky Donahue read my last post on the yellow “chinaman” makeup and hepped me to this now legendary incident, which somehow missed my radar when it happened. I don’t know how I could have been so distracted.  I must’ve been busy arguing with white Europeans about the existence of racism.

I’ve always liked Harry Connick Jr. — both as an artist and as an individual — but now I have even more respect for him after watching this. Here he is on this cheeseball Australian show — as an American artist whose own musical stylings are largely indebted to the black artists that came before — and he’s forced to witness this atrocity.

Not only does he not hide his disgust, but he uses this shituation as — in his own words — an “opportunity” to do some much-needed edumucatin’ as to why these types of acts are so fucked up. And he couldn’t have done it more elegantly: “I know it was done humorously, but [Americans] have spent so much time trying not to make black people look like buffoons, that when we see something that, we take it really to heart… If I knew that was going to be a part of this show, I definitely wouldn’t have done it.”

I give him a “10″.

I just couldn’t help myself.

So here’s my answer to someone’s earlier question, “If a black mammy costume is racist, why isn’t it racist to dress like a ‘Chinaman’?”

Um, it is. Duh.

I can just imagine the conversations in the packaging department of the makeup factory. “This piss-yellow face paint sucks! Who wants to paint their face [...]]]>

I just couldn’t help myself.

So here’s my answer to someone’s earlier question, “If a black mammy costume is racist, why isn’t it racist to dress like a ‘Chinaman’?”

Um, it is. Duh.

I can just imagine the conversations in the packaging department of the makeup factory. “This piss-yellow face paint sucks! Who wants to paint their face yellow, anyway? The good colors are black, white, red and blue. No one’s gonna buy the yellow paint.”

“Hmmm, you’ve got a point. That yellow paint does kinda suck… Let’s see… Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo…I’ve GOT it! We’ll put a CHINAMAN on the package!”

“What do you mean, a ‘Chinaman’? A Chinese man?”

“No, I mean a white guy dressed like a Chinaman.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t put a white guy dressed like a Chinaman on the package in this day and age! Shit, you can’t even say “Chinaman” anymore. What century are you living in?”

“We’ll sell it only in Europe.”

[Pause]

“You’re a fucking genius.”

Not too long ago, in an interview with BTV, I was asked, “Who are your favorite Barcelona comedians?”

What?? Bitch, you serious? My favorite Barcelona comedians? Like, are there any?

That’s when I realized I had to get off my ass and start talking about my favorite comedians. And no, they’re not from Barcelona. For fuck’s sake.

There [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuTQeoS3fcg

Not too long ago, in an interview with BTV, I was asked, “Who are your favorite Barcelona comedians?”

What?? Bitch, you serious? My favorite Barcelona comedians? Like, are there any?

That’s when I realized I had to get off my ass and start talking about my favorite comedians. And no, they’re not from Barcelona. For fuck’s sake.

There are many comedians I admire. Some are famous and some are not. Some of them were colleagues of mine in NY or LA that I often got to see play live, and even share a stage with them. So here’s my first favorite comedian of this blog: Dave Chappelle.

Years before I met Dave Chappelle, I knew Dave’s sister and brother, Felicia and Sidar (now known as William Abdullah), because we all went to the same school: Antioch College. I was a little intimidated around Felicia because she was in the Theater Department, and everybody in the Theater Department intimidated me. I was very insecure, and I felt stupid around this quiet, intense girl with loud, theatrical, chain-smoking friends and who seemed so sure of herself. I did become friends with her brother Sidar, who was a Muslim. I remember sitting with him once in my kitchen and talking about religion, race, relationships, Islam — you know, light coffee talk.

At that time, Dave was busy getting his stand-up career off the ground in another part of the country, so I never got to meet him until I moved to New York in 1996. Besides Sidar and Felicia, Dave’s father, Bill Chappelle, was also at Antioch College, working as a voice teacher in the music department. I did take voice lessons, but from his assistant, so unfortunately I didn’t have much interaction with Mr. Chappelle, who passed away a few years ago. I just remember him as a handsome, elegant man with a warm smile and beautiful, peaceful eyes.

In 1996, with a few years of experience as a comedian under my belt, I moved from Austin, TX to New York City. The hip, hot comedy club at the time, Luna Lounge on Ludlow Street, was not a comedy club at all, in the traditional sense of the word. This was the moment of “alternative comedy”, which, depending on how you look at it, was either a groundbreaking movement towards authenticity in stand-up comedy, or a clever and cynical marketing trick by certain comedy managers. It was one of the first places where I was lucky enough to perform among the pros — much better comedians than myself.

It was at Luna Lounge where I first met Dave Chappelle, as well as Sarah Silverman, Louis C.K., Marc Maron, Todd Barry, Zach Galafianakis, the Sklar Brothers, and many others. I remember approaching Dave — with awe, because he was already a highly respected comedian, a “comic’s comic”, as they say — and introducing myself. I told him I’d gone to Antioch and known his sister and brother.

He was friendly and down-to-earth, and very encouraging to this new, “green” comedian who’d just come out from Texas. A few years after that, he had his own Comedy Central Series, “The Dave Chappelle Show”. After that, he turned his back on it all and left for South Africa. I would love to talk to him about that some day.

Dave Chappelle is one of the finest comedians today: intelligent, critical, and brutally funny. To truly appreciate much of his humor, you need to understand U.S. culture and the racist dynamic that underlies it, so some of his material might not translate well if you live outside the U.S., but give it a try.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLSHwzFUyz8

What a shitstorm I’ve stirred up with my post on the racist Carnaval costumes.

The thing is, I kind of expected it. I know white people hate being called on their racism… or their denial of it.

The reactions, ranging from defensiveness to anger, awaken a sense of deja-vu in [...]]]>

From the Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorabilia

What a shitstorm I’ve stirred up with my post on the racist Carnaval costumes.

The thing is, I kind of expected it. I know white people hate being called on their racism… or their denial of it.

The reactions, ranging from defensiveness to anger, awaken a sense of deja-vu in me. You see, in my years of existence in America as a white U.S. citizen, I’ve heard all these arguments before: from white friends, friends-of-friends, neighbors, coworkers, family… Many, many times. I’ll boil them down into their basic essence:

Ignorance is bliss. Don’t lecture us. Don’t rain on our parade.

Look, folks: I’m an entertainer. I’m not an academic or a politician or a preacher, and I hate to be the pesada. But when a post stirs up such a virulent response, I feel the need to explain my opinions.

Just to reiterate: this blog is about MY experience living in a different culture. Of course I will see things differently than people living here. And because I have opinions that I’m not afraid to share, there will be disagreements and sometimes offense will be taken.

As you can see from the title, I’m not from Spain, or Catalonia. I’m an immigrant from the U.S.A. I will inevitably see things from my perspective, coming from where I do. There will be cultural clashes sometimes.

Just as I am ignorant of certain aspects of this culture, so are people here ignorant of aspects of American culture. The lack of awareness of the racism in Jim Crow images is one such blind spot, as evidenced by the ubiquitous “mammy” costume at Carnival.

Of course the white people wearing this costume have no idea that it’s a vile racist stereotype that reflects centuries of brutal oppression of blacks in America. Or course they don’t hate black people. How could they? Most of them don’t even know any black people.

Does that mean people who wear these costumes are bad people? Of course not. Does their ignorance make it right? Fuck no.

Does the fact that most people in this country don’t know a rat’s ass about U.S. history and its legacy of racism mean that I don’t have the right to criticize such a costume? That seems to be the main argument of the comments defending the mammy costume. Sorry, but I continue to disagree. Just because you’re ignorant doesn’t mean I have to swallow it with a smile.

Racist U.S. postcard from 1909

Any U.S. citizen, black or white, has the legacy of racism burned into their consciousness. Not surprisingly, many white Americans are far less conscious of the repercussions than blacks would like them to be… which explains the existence of people like Ted Nugent.

Some of the comments accuse me of policing people, trying to impose political correctness on the happy-go-lucky culture here, and trying to censor people’s expression. If you read my original post, I did nothing of the sort. I simply voiced my opinion on the matter — with humor and irreverence, as is my style.

If some people think I’m looking down on them because I call attention to this kind of thing: I’m sorry, but I can’t help them with that. They should read more self-help books or see a psychiatrist. Living in this country, I get corrected all the time. I’m used to making mistakes and having to pay for them. I know I’m far from perfect.

But I stand by my initial reaction. It’s impossible for me to stand by and say nothing when I witness a disgusting racist importation from my own country, dammit. It makes me feel ashamed to be an American. As they say so eloquently in Spanish: It touches my balls.

From the Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorabilia

I have exercised my choice to offer my opinion on the subject. The choice I don’t have, however, is to wipe the knowledge of Jim Crow, Mammies, and the cruel, horrific racist history of my country from my consciousness. That terrible knowledge is part of my identity.

Please check out the site of the Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorabilia in Michigan to better understand the subject… or at least why I react the way I do. As always, you will decide for yourself. The gallery on mammies is especially informative in regards to this controversy.

Oh, and the next time you visit the U.S… a bit of friendly advice: don’t wear one of those costumes, if you want to make it out of there alive and in one piece. The argument of “It’s carnival, it’s just innocent fun,” won’t buy you much sympathy.

For the Spanish rockers out there: don’t even get me started on the Confederate flag. If you feel the need to defend that, go jerk off to Ted Nugent.

Finally, enjoy the clip from one of my favorite comics, someone I had the chance to meet and even share a gig with back in the day: Dave Chappelle.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VU28Pv26nNQ

It’s Carnival time in Barcelona, and you know what that means: TIME TO PUT ON THE BLACKFACE!!

Oh, it doesn’t in your part of the world? Well… my bad.

I’ve been here for five years now, and I still can’t get used to it. It’s like taking a trip back in time, in the most horribly embarrassing [...]]]>

It’s Carnival time in Barcelona, and you know what that means: TIME TO PUT ON THE BLACKFACE!!

Oh, it doesn’t in your part of the world? Well… my bad.

I’ve been here for five years now, and I still can’t get used to it. It’s like taking a trip back in time, in the most horribly embarrassing way.

My only consolation is the thought that, perhaps, somewhere in Africa… on very festive occasions… people paint their faces white… and shove a stick up their ass.

Merchandise in a typical costume store in Barcelona! Wow!

One of the most emblematic performances by Odetta, “Waterboy”. It’s very hard for me to watch this without crying. (Sorry, the whole clip isn’t available to me.)

Have you ever seen an artist convey so much tragedy in such stark, simple conditions? A woman, a guitar, a spotlight.

If I were a theater teacher, I would [...]]]>

One of the most emblematic performances by Odetta, “Waterboy”. It’s very hard for me to watch this without crying. (Sorry, the whole clip isn’t available to me.)

Have you ever seen an artist convey so much tragedy in such stark, simple conditions? A woman, a guitar, a spotlight.

If I were a theater teacher, I would make all my students study this performance. With so much overproduction these days, here’s a clear case of “less is more”.

Of course, “less is more” when the artist has something to say. Odetta certainly did.