Daily Dose: 11/15/17 Donald Trump stops just short of calling UCLA players ungrateful

Didn’t get a win Tuesday on Around The Horn, but Thursday is a new day, so we’ll see how that goes.

When it comes to nations ruled by dictators, it’s difficult to understand the truth. So when a military leader jumps on state broadcast television and announces that “this is not a coup,” well, OK, whatever. Now, it appears it’s definitely a coup. Robert Mugabe, who’s been in power in Zimbabwe as long as I’ve been alive, is apparently under house arrest. If you don’t know, Mugabe took control of his nation back from minority white rule and basically cashed out from there.

Speaking of Africa, its treasures are plentiful. Beyond the people and agriculture, there are the animals. Many of them are tourist attractions, but even more so, many are targets for poaching. Whether it be overzealous hunters who just want to say they downed something bigger than themselves, or those who want to take tusk ivory to be sold, many animals are under constant attack. The northern white rhino is no different, and there are only three left on earth. Meet the men who protect them with their lives.

If you don’t know Jeff Sessions, you should. He’s the U.S. attorney general, and the same guy whom Coretta Scott King warned us about some 30 years ago regarding his feelings about race. In testifying before the House Judiciary Committee, he repeatedly contradicted himself about his involvement regarding Russia, which is one thing. What caught my eye was what he said regarding a report about “black extremists.” Watch this video and, perhaps as important, check out his wife’s reaction to what he’s saying.

Donald Trump is the president of the United States of America. His literal job is to advocate on behalf of his constituents, which includes all citizens of this nation. But since he’s very much into personal accolades, he wants to know if the three hoopsters from UCLA who were accused of shoplifting in China are going to thank him for his apparent efforts in helping them get home. Now might be a good time to resurface this story. Also, it should be known that Trump’s own chief of staff called the Bruins players “knuckleheads.”

Free Food

Coffee Break: I don’t know much about robots, but I do know that I’m not here for them taking over the human race. But when they are self-aware to the point that they can basically outsmart us and plot our demise without even thinking twice, I RUN AWAY SCREAMING. Seriously, watch this.

Snack Time: The movie Get Out will be going to the Golden Globes as a comedy, which is confusing and angering to many fans of the film. It’s more complicated than that, but that category does feel rather weird.

Dessert: As someone who routinely rocks my naps on television with pride, this story is fascinating.

Daily Dose: 11/10/17 Louis C.K. admits to sexual assault

Welp, we finally made it to the weekend, which is always fun. Unless you work weekends, like most of us. In which case, get that paper, fam.

Louis C.K.’s day has finally come. What started years ago as a blind item, evolved to a well-known public rumor and finally rose to the level of a New York Times story was publicly admitted by the comedian. Say what you want about the statement itself — it was not good — but the fact that he’s actually talking out loud about it is remarkable. Some people seem to think that his comedy justifies his acts, which is obviously absurd. The reactions to his “apology” have varied, but here’s the news story.

Photo manipulation is nothing new when it comes to magazines. Across the industry, most things that you see in the printed form, or online for that matter, are manipulated to the point that if you saw the original, you’d be borderline shocked. It’s considered standard practice. But, for Lupita Nyong’o, one U.K. company went too far with its latest maneuver. They completely removed the actual curls of her hair, which is a pretty serious violation, even for a magazine. She called them on it.

When it comes to love, China knows what it’s doing. Their biggest shopping day of the year is one called Singles Day, the anti-Valentine’s Day holiday, which is Friday. First off: This idea is incredible. I’m not going to spend my hard-earned money on some other person I love, I’ma do me. I realize that Black Friday is a major boon to American retailers, but in China: This day is doing NUMBERS. I would love to see this specifically marketed in the United States as a self-love day.

Speaking of China, Stephon Marbury is a god there. He has a museum dedicated to him after years of playing basketball in the hoops-hungry nation. But Jimmer Fredette, that dude who never panned out in the NBA after a storied college career, decided to test Marbury on the court. And not like in a basketball sense. He actually stepped to Steph after a hard foul, and police had to get involved. How you have the gall to do that is beyond me, but luckily no one was hurt.

Free Food

Coffee Break: There are few things I love more than a cool pair of sneakers, but ones that have an emotional connection are particularly special. This version of the Kyrie Irving special edition with the word “MOM” on the tongue? Amazing.

Snack Time: If you’re in Los Angeles looking for something cool to do next week, check this out. That is, if you’re a music producer or an artist.

Dessert: New weekend music alert. Your boy Jidenna dropped a surprise EP. And he brought friends!

Tiffany Haddish and Chance the Rapper make ‘Saturday Night Live’ history Second time there’s been back-to-back black hosts, Haddish 12th black female host

On Nov. 11, this summer’s breakout star Tiffany Haddish will host Saturday Night Live for the first time in her career. A week later, on Nov. 18, the Grammy Award-winning Chance the Rapper will, too, make his hosting debut on the long-running late-night sketch comedy show. Haddish, 37, of this summer’s Girls Trip and the recently canceled The Carmichael Show, is just the 12th African-American woman, and the 50th black man or woman, to host SNL, and when Chance the Rapper hosts seven days later, it will mark just the second time in the show’s 43-season history that hosts in back-to-back weeks are black. The last time was March 2009, and it was Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Tracy Morgan.

While SNL has a history of being on the pulse of politics and pop culture, it has always struggled in the diversity department, whether it’s the celebrity guest hosts, or its own cast. For seasons one through five, SNL had just one black cast member, Garrett Morris (2 Broke Girls, The Jamie Foxx Show) and didn’t hire a black woman until Yvonne Hudson was brought in for one season, 1981’s season 6. When Maya Rudolph left the show following season 33, it took the show seven years to replace her with Leslie Jones and Sasheer Zamata.

Heading into Saturday’s historic episode, The Undefeated takes a look at the 49 black hosts who came before Haddish and Chance.

most-featured hostsathlete hosts

While the NFL may be the most popular sport in America, the NBA is apparently the premier space from which to choose late-night television hosts: Professional basketball players have appeared on SNL the most. It began in 1978, when Buffalo Bills running back O.J. Simpson, in season 3, became the first black athlete (and second overall) to host the show. Between the nine athletes who have hosted, there are a combined 17 MVP awards, 87 All-Star or Pro Bowl selections, 28 championships, and, between Foreman and Johnson, 10 heavyweight title reigns.

black female hostsblack female hosts

Haddish, the second black female comedian to host (Rudolph was the first), follows in the footsteps of eight Academy Award nominees, two of whom are winners: Halle Berry, and Octavia Spencer. There have also been seven Emmy nominees, four of whom are winners: Cicely Tyson, Oprah Winfrey, Berry, Queen Latifah. Two Grammy nominees as well — with Janet Jackson a multi-Grammy winner. Tyson, in season 4, was the first black female host in SNL history, and she and Winfrey were the only hosts from 1979-2002. Berry hosted in 2003, a year after winning the Oscar for Monster’s Ball.

double dutydouble duty hosts

Starting with the legendary Richard Pryor and Grammy-winning jazz poet Gil Scott-Heron in season 1, there have been 24 black host-musician pairings since the show’s inception in 1975. Some of the pairings were a perfect match — Quincy Jones with Tevin Campbell, for example, as well as Eddie Murphy with Lionel Ritchie, and LeBron James with Kanye West. Other pairings are head-scratchers even to this day — Sinbad with Sade, and Michael Jordan with Public Enemy.

double dutydouble duty hosts

What started with host Lily Tomlin performing alongside SNL musical director Howard Shore on the sixth episode of season one has morphed into dozens of musical artists, including Paul Simon, Justin Timberlake and Stevie Wonder, pulling double-duty as both host and musical act. Chance the Rapper isn’t slated to perform on Nov. 18, the scheduled musical guest is fellow rapper Eminem, but there have been four hip-hop artists (Drake, Ludacris, Queen Latifah, MC Hammer) to grace the stage and the mic in the same episode. Ray Charles, who sang “I Believe in My Soul,” “Hit The Road Jack” and “Oh What A Beautiful Morning” between hosting duties during season three, was the first black host to pull double duty.

most-featured hostsmost-featured hosts

Of the 49 black creatives to host before Haddish and Chance, nine have returned for at least one more episode. Of the nine repeats, Morgan, Rock and Murphy were former cast members, with Murphy famously refusing to return to the show after last hosting in 1984. With the finale episode of season 42, Johnson joined the show’s exclusive “Five-Timers Club.” He’s the first member who is black or an athlete. Queen Latifah, who hosted during seasons 28 and 30, is the only black woman to host on more than one occasion.

Ric Flair and black fandom in wrestling The ‘Nature Boy’ is one man in a long, complex history for professional wrestling

About halfway through Nature Boy, ESPN’s 30 for 30 documentary (Nov. 7, 10 p.m. EST, ESPN) on WWE legend Ric Flair, the conversation turns to Flair’s transcending impact on popular culture. The flamboyant grappler, known for his loud fashion sense, “heel” tactics, braggadocio and quick tongue, was reminiscent of a young Cassius Clay/Muhammad Ali, captivating audiences not only with his physical dexterity but also with his ability to sell himself.

And Flair most surely sold himself. He was the man whom women wanted to be with and men wanted to be like. He was the 16-time world champion, no matter how much he would cheat to win, and made sure you never forgot it.

“I mean, why did people like Ali?” Flair asks in the documentary. “No one has marketed themselves in boxing like Ali.”

Moments later, rapper Snoop Dogg appears on the screen and explains how Flair pulled from and was an inspiration of the early roots of hip-hop and black culture. “As a kid growing up watching Ric Flair, he was very inspirational to myself and a lot of other hip-hop artists because he represented what we wanted to be,” Snoop Dogg said. “We wanted to be Ric Flair; we wanted to be flamboyant and the ‘kiss-stealin, wheelin-and-dealin,’ we wanted to be all of that.

“He was a part of our culture and our life. That’s why we love him and we cherish him. We’ve always held him high in the black community, because Ric is one of us.”

Snoop Dogg, who has hosted and appeared on WWE’s flagship show Monday Night Raw on multiple occasions and was inducted into the company’s Hall of Fame in 2016, paints a peculiar portrait of Flair, he of white working-class roots, bleach-blond hair and 1 percenter persona, as “one of us.” But between the luxurious clothes, brash delivery and unmitigated swagger, how was Flair any different, color aside, from an Ali or Denzel Washington or N.W.A.?

Flair was one of the greatest heels, or bad guys, in professional wrestling history, making you want to hate him as easily as Floyd “Money” Mayweather would some three decades later. But unlike Mayweather, Flair had the charm, personality and lifestyle to make every man envy him. He was also an early adopter of the overindulgent persona that took over 2000s hip-hop. To borrow from Jay-Z, Flair flaunted the “Money, Cash, H–s,” at one point owning 15 $10,000 robes, a pair of $600 custom-made shoes (gators, presumably) and a $15,000 Rolex. Not to mention all of the women.

“You see the Rolex watch, you see the glasses, you see the beautiful women, Baby Doll and Precious,” said Glen Thomas, 39, co-host of the Wrestling Marks of Excellence podcast. “You hear Ric Flair talking about the night they had in Vegas … and you see the sunglasses and the $5,000 Armani suits and shoes and you see the belt, you desire to be that. I didn’t know about Disney World, but I knew about Space Mountain.”

In recent years, the 68-year-old has been reborn as an apparent icon of black culture. Indianapolis Colts players mimicked Flair’s famous “Rolex-wearin’ ” promo during a postgame speech in 2015; rapper Pusha T shouted his trademark “Woo” catchphrase on 2012’s “Don’t Like”; and Flair “ran” for president with rapper Waka Flocka Flame in 2016.

But Flair, who hasn’t been a regular performer since retiring from WWE in 2008, is just one man in a long, complex history of professional wrestling. The “Nature Boy,” as a character, lives in a universe of offensive, sexist, anti-gay and, most glaringly, racist content — there are multiple instances of blackface being used in WWE. Which begs the question: Why do black fans continue to tune in?

There are many reasons, it turns out. Wrestling combines the visual presentation of cinema, the never-ending continuity of television and the pure athleticism of professional sports. In between the perilous stunts and knee-slapping comedy also lie real-world consequences, as evidenced by former wrestler Daniel Bryan having to retire because of repeated concussions. A bit of nostalgia is baked in as well. The average age of a pro wrestling viewer is 54 years old, compared with just 40 for the NBA, with many current viewers having watched the product since its heyday in the late 20th century.

“It’s one of those things where I can’t remember the start date,” said Camille Davis, 28, co-host of the Milwaukee-based TECKnical Foul sports podcast. “It’s kind of like when I think back about why I started sports: It’s just something that was always around.”

Whether it was a parent, aunt, uncle, cousin or deacon from church, most fans of wrestling had a familial introduction to the National Wrestling Alliance, World Championship Wrestling or WWE. Like anyone who grew up a fan of other sports, it wasn’t out of the norm to be a wrestling fan.

Black fans followed the established stars of the 1980s and 1990s like everyone else: Flair, Randy Savage, The Ultimate Warrior, Shawn Michaels, Bret Hart and Hulk Hogan. It didn’t even matter that none of these stars weren’t black; wrestling wasn’t immediately about race for those who grew up watching it.

But as black fans got older, many started to also gravitate to the male and female performers who looked like them. For older fans, there was Koko B. Ware, “Iceman” King Parsons, Bobo Brazil and “Sailor” Art Thomas. The most popular and transcendent of the early black wrestlers, though, was Junkyard Dog, who co-starred in Hogan’s Saturday morning cartoon show, Hulk Hogan’s Rock ‘n’ Wrestling.

For younger fans who grew up in the 1990s, professional wrestling’s renaissance era, they had what felt like an abundance of talent to root for. There was Harlem Heat, composed of real-life brothers Booker T and Stevie Ray; strongman Ahmed Johnson; black nationalist stable Nation of Domination; female grappler Jacqueline Moore; and, of course, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.

The Rock, who debuted in WWE in 1996, was the biggest star in the company’s history, winning multiple championships and eventually becoming the highest-paid actor in Hollywood. As half-Samoan, half-black, The Rock was one of the most visible black people in the country, a role model for many young people.

“The Rock was more of an inspiration,” said Brian Waters, 31, who’s hosted internet radio show The Wrestling Wrealm since 2011. “Knowing that he was half-black, half-Samoan, I was like, well, it don’t matter, he’s black. It’s kind of like Barack Obama. It don’t matter, he got a little black in him.”

Once black fans become aware of their own blackness, they would tend to root for the black wrestlers, no different from rooting for the Doug Williamses and Mike Vicks of football, the Williams sisters of tennis or the Tiger Woodses of golf.

This partially explains the ascent of The New Day, an all-black trio of wrestlers who have been a fan favorite for going on three years straight. But, surprisingly, race wasn’t the only factor in the popularity.

“I didn’t like New Day because they were black,” said Davis. “It was more so because they were funny. And even then I’m like not really big on The New Day train. There’s no real black wrestlers I feel like that they even give a chance to achieve.”

For black female fans, like Davis, the female wrestlers weren’t given much of an opportunity to achieve either. There have been only five black women’s champions in WWE history: Moore, Jazz, Alicia Fox, Naomi and Sasha Banks. Moore, in 2016, became the first and only African-American woman to be inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame.

Even with this black female representation for young women, the wrestlers had such unrealistic body proportions, from Moore’s bust to Jazz’s bulk, that not all viewers could relate to them.

“None of the women wrestlers are technically going to look like me, because their bodies are never going to look like how my body looked or was going to look,” said LaToya Ferguson, 29, who writes about wrestling for pop culture blog Uproxx. “I could enjoy them and appreciate them, but I don’t think I ever really had that connection a lot of girls wanted to have of the Divas.”

While children normally learn about race as young as 6 months old, research shows that they don’t learn about “racism” until they’re teenagers or young adults. For African-Americans who watched wrestling, this meant many didn’t notice the problematic storylines in WWE involving African-Americans until they were adults. And there were plenty.

In 1990, white wrestler “Rowdy” Roddy Piper donned blackface while in a storyline with black performer Bad News Brown, who was supposed to be the bad guy in the feud. Less than a decade later, all-white stable D-Generation X, who, like Piper, were the supposed good guys, painted their skin black while facing off with The Rock and the Nation of Domination. In the 2000s, Shelton Benjamin, one of the most gifted athletes in the company’s history, was accompanied to the ring by a Hattie McDaniel-like “momma” character, while all-black duo Cryme Tyme sported cornrows and platinum grills and stole from other wrestlers as their gimmick.

But two incidents stand out the most. In 2003, white wrestler Triple H delivered a racially charged promo against Booker T, calling the black performer’s hair “nappy” and telling him that “people like him” don’t win championships in the WWE. “He almost called him everything except for the N-word,” Thomas said.

And it didn’t end there for Booker T. Two years later, WWE chairman and CEO Vince McMahon called John Cena, who is white and replaced The Rock as the company’s most prominent star, the N-word on live television as a perplexed Booker T walked past.

Despite these incidents, and many more in American professional wrestling’s nearly 200-year history, black fans haven’t wavered. They still make up nearly a quarter of WWE’s total audience, according to Nielsen, and have many reasons for not jumping ship.

Professional wrestling, like the NFL or MLB, is a form of communal entertainment, with fans tuning in live every week because their close friends or family members are following along as well. If they aren’t one of the 3 million people watching Monday Night Raw on the USA Network, they’re filling up more basketball arena seats than the NBA team that owns the building or watching thousands of hours of content on the WWE Network. Like any parent, wrestling fans can also pass down their fandom to their kids. There are times when the product will let you down or offend you, but how is that any different from a fan pushing his or her kids to root for the Cleveland Browns?

There is a lack of diversity and problematic storylines for wrestlers of color, but black viewers tolerate those same issues in other forms of entertainment. Many African-Americans watched network dramas in the decades before Kerry Washington became the first black female lead in a television show since 1974 when she starred in Scandal. Movie ticket sales still sold in the billions in the years leading up to the #OscarsSoWhite campaign. And in sports, despite boycott threats from African-American NFL fans over treatment of black athletes, namely Colin Kaepernick, in response to player protests during the national anthem, NFL games still draw in tens of millions of viewers.

Fans of wrestling just want to be entertained. It’s the golden age of wrestling right now, with the most gifted performers in the history of the “sport” performing right now, whether in WWE or on the independent circuit, including Kentucky-raised Ricochet, the most popular non-WWE black wrestler in the world. And depending on who you talk to, wrestling can be both this amazing art form — “I feel like it’s one of the last true performance arts,” Ferguson said — and guilty pleasure.

“It’s the best soap opera I’ve seen, the best television,” Waters said. “I guess I’m one of those people that if you told me I could only have one channel, it would be USA [Network].”

Thomas added: “People watch Scandal, they watch How To Get Away With Murder, they watch Law & Order: SVU. That’s your TV show, that’s your escape for two hours. That’s your soap opera. Wrestling is my soap opera, where I can suspend my disbelief for three hours on a Monday or two hours on a Tuesday.”

For YouTuber turned actor/producer Andrew Bachelor, telling stories through film is a passion and a goal Known as King Bach, he is now producing and starring in a film alongside Terry Crews, Mike Epps, and Method Man

He started out as a YouTuber but catapulted into the fame lane on Vine. His name is Andrew Bachelor and, yes, he has the Guinness World Record to prove it.

Now, Bachelor, filmmaker and actor, is making a splash in the film industry.

He’s starring in Lionsgate’s comedy feature film Where’s The Money opposite Kat Graham, Terry Crews, Mike Epps and Method Man. He plays a quick-witted young man from the streets of South Central Los Angeles who must rush a lily-white USC fraternity to recover a stash of stolen money. The 29-year-old not only stars in the film, he is also an executive producer on the project.

“I love not only to be in front of the camera, but behind the camera as well,” said Bachelor, known on social media as King Bach. “That’s why I really get involved with every project that I’m a part of.”

Bachelor has evolved into an in-demand actor, producer and content creator, working with some of the biggest names in Hollywood. As his visibility grew, he caught the attention of casting directors who booked him acting gigs on shows such as House of Lies and The Mindy Project, as well as films such as Meet the Blacks and a spoof of the horror series The Purge.

Later this year, Bachelor will also be featured in the Netflix horror film The Babysitter, opposite Bella Thorne, and the comedy film When We First Met. Forbes named him as one of 2017’s top influencers in entertainment.

Creating content has always been one of Bachelor’s biggest passions. The sketches on his YouTube channel, Pad TV, quickly gained more than 3 million subscribers. The sketches were expensive to produce, so Bachelor searched for alternative ways to share content, which led to his discovery of Vine. In a few short years, he rose to be one of the most followed people on Vine, with 15 million subscribers and more than 5 billion views. His other social media channels also flourished, with millions of people following his content.

“The key for me has been to not lose focus of my ultimate goal,” Bachelor said. “A lot of people come to Los Angeles and leave because they stop believing in themselves and change their dream. You can’t lose focus, even if that means writing down your goal and reading it every day as a reminder.”

Bachelor spoke with The Undefeated on how he went from internet star to Hollywood star and the lessons he’s learned — and is still learning — along the way.


What’s the difference between you and your alter ego King Bach?

King Bach is funny, energetic, charming, handsome and every woman’s dream. I’m just calm and boring … but still handsome, let’s not get sidetracked from that.

What’s the first thing you did when Forbes named you as one of the top influencers in entertainment for 2017?

I told my mom, ‘I made it. I can move out of the house now.’

What is your ultimate goal?

It’s to create an empire. I get my blueprint from Tyler Perry, who’s created plays, TV shows and movies. I had asked myself, ‘Why can’t I do the same?’ And my answer was, ‘I can do the same. And I will!’

When did you realize you were famous?

When my mom told me that people [outside family and friends] knew who I was.

What did you learn from some of the actors on Where’s the Money?

It was great working with those legends. Mike Epps taught me the art of improv. Terry Crews showed me how to be humble and respect everyone on and off camera. And I learned how to really get into character and become involved with my role from Method Man.

Have you ever been starstruck?

Yes, when I met Mario Lopez at an airport.

How do you come up with the creatives behind your videos and films?

A lot of the situations happen to me in real life, and I just figure out a way to turn it into an exciting story.

How did you nurture your desire to perform?

I joined an acting club and comedy troupe. We’d do 30 skits in 60 minutes. It drew me more to acting and wanting to perfect the craft.

You’re a Phi Beta Sigma member. What drew you to the fraternity?

Going to FSU [Florida State University], where everything and everyone is new, I needed a group [that kept me grounded]. Phi Beta Sigma always showed me love [and furthermore] brotherhood, scholarship and service. That’s what we stand for.

What will you always be a champion of?

Learning. [I’ve learned] not to be afraid to fail. The only way to learn is by failing, and once you accept that, you’re golden.

What’s your favorite social media outlet?

Twitter and Instagram.

Fats Domino and the death of rock As another ‘Rockstar’ goes on to that heavenly venue, is the genre dead?

Fats Domino, a member of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s 1986 inaugural class, a recipient of the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award and a recipient of the National Medal of Arts, died Oct. 24 at his home in suburban New Orleans. He was 89. Just as Domino helped push swing music to the margins of cultural relevance in the 1950s, so does Domino’s death mark a complete torch-passing from the rock- and rhythm and blues-loving baby boomers to the rap-loving Gen Xers and millennials. It’s impossible to overlook the musical frame of Domino’s life.

It would be the grossest of understatements to say Fats Domino was ahead of his time. Decades before Big Pun, Notorious B.I.G. and Rick Ross boasted of their luxuriant meatiness, Antoine “Fats” Domino had been there and done that. Indeed, Domino’s first single was a hard-rocking track entitled “The Fat Man,” in which the singer crowed about his scale-crushing weight. Domino’s single was recorded in 1949, six years before Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Elvis Presley codified a new musical sound called rock ’n’ roll.

A recent Nielsen Music report revealed that hip-hop/R&B has surpassed rock in online streaming and sales to become the nation’s most popular musical style. Combine that with the recent deaths of rock titans Chuck Berry, Tom Petty and founding members of the Allman Brothers Band, Steely Dan, Soundgarden and Linkin Park, and it can seem like Domino’s death serves as a eulogy for rock itself, a solemn epitaph for the music that defined a huge and authority-questioning generation of the past century.

While Domino inspired the Beatles and Neil Young, the singer himself rarely, if ever, raised his own voice. Much like the pioneering black actor Robert Guillaume, who also died Oct. 24 at 89, Domino most often let his work speak for itself. Just as Guillaume enjoyed the distinction of being the first African-American performer to win an Emmy Award for best actor in a comedy series, Domino had the distinction of being the first rock artist of any consequence: “Well, I wouldn’t want to say that I started it [rock ’n’ roll],” Domino said, “but I don’t remember anyone else before me playing that kind of stuff.”

Domino’s death serves as a eulogy for rock itself.

Though Domino lacked Little Richard’s wantonness and Chuck Berry’s poetic aplomb, the piano-playing singer demonstrated world-beating clout. After a string of R&B hits on Imperial Records, Domino finally broke through to Billboard’s pop charts in 1955 with “Ain’t That A Shame.” Co-written by Domino and his frequent composing partner, Dave Bartholomew, the single bore all the hallmarks of Domino’s subsequent hits — emotionally vulnerable songs performed to the spare yet powerful accompaniment of guitar, bass, drums and small horn section. Together, Domino and Bartholomew would chart a string of hits, including “I’m In Love Again,” “I’m Walkin’ ” and “I’m Gonna Be a Wheel Some Day.”

From 1950 to 1963, Domino placed 63 hits on Billboard’s U.S. pop charts and 59 songs on the R&B charts. His biggest success was “Blueberry Hill,” a tune composed in 1940 by Vincent Rose, Al Lewis and Larry Stock. Previously recorded by popular artists including Gene Autry, Kay Kyser and Louis Armstrong, Domino’s simple arrangement and woebegone vocal delivery transformed the shopworn tune into a strolling, rock ’n’ roll standard. Domino’s version topped the R&B chart for nearly two months, peaking at No. 2 on the Top 40. Within a year of its release, the single had sold more than 5 million copies worldwide, establishing Domino as one of rock’s crossover artists.

By the end of rock’s 1950s golden age, Domino’s record sales had surpassed those of Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Buddy Holly combined. And although Presley sold more records, the so-called “King of Rock ’n’ Roll” always acknowledged his debt to Domino. Paul McCartney has said that the Beatles’ hit “Lady Madonna” was influenced by his New Orleans hero.

Domino’s triplet piano style, in which three notes are sounded per beat, inspired a wealth of pop ballads, from Percy Faith’s 1960 ‘‘Theme From A Summer Place,” to Otis Redding’s 1962 ‘‘These Arms of Mine,” and Sly & the Family Stone’s 1969 “Hot Fun in the Summertime.” Original Domino compositions such as 1955’s “I Hear You Knocking ” and “Ain’t That A Shame” would become hits for Billy Haley & His Comets, Cheap Trick, Tom Petty, Dave Edmunds and others.

Born Feb. 26, 1928, Domino was raised in New Orleans’ 9th Ward, the region that served as his home base for most of his life. It was only after 2005’s catastrophic Hurricane Katrina that he would leave the region for new digs in the New Orleans suburbs. “I traveled the world for about 50 years,” Domino told USA Today. “I love a lot of places and I’ve been to lots of places, but I just don’t care to leave home.”

Decades before Big Pun, Notorious B.I.G. and Rick Ross boasted of their luxuriant meatiness, Antoine “Fats” Domino had been there and done that.

After learning music fundamentals from a relative, Domino was good enough in his teens to perform in a popular New Orleans group led by bassist Billy Diamond. It was Diamond who nicknamed Domino “Fats,” lending Domino a jolly, Falstaffian image that contrasted sharply with his skinnier contemporaries. In his 2007 book Blue Monday: Fats Domino and the Lost Dawn of Rock ’n’ Roll, author Rick Coleman describes the neuron-tickling impact of “The Fat Man,” Domino’s 1950 debut single. “There was a touch of blues braggadocio, though bragging about being fat was hardly the stuff of ego … (the single) contained radically puzzling and pulsating sounds — the raucous musical cadence, emotion, and distortion that would echo through popular music for the rest of the century as ‘rock ’n’ roll.’ ”

Now, well into a new century, it appears that the music Domino helped invent is being put out to pasture. Today, the upper echelons of the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart brim with rap and R&B tracks. So far, Kendrick Lamar has the best-received album of the year.

Yet, even as we bid rock ’n’ roll and Antoine Domino adieu, The Fat Man’s large-living iconography haunts contemporary culture. As of this writing, the top tune in the U.S. is a decadent track by rappers Post Malone and 21 Savage — it has close to 75 million views.

Ironically, the song is titled “Rockstar.”

LeBron, Blake, Kyrie and Kobe go Hollywood — in the best way NBA All-Stars charge into the entertainment world on a massive scale

There’s Uncle Drew. The remake of White Men Can’t Jump. And soon, possibly, a new sitcom. Everybody wants to be Hollywood-famous — even your favorite NBA players. Several are taking to the screen as front-facing talent with aspirations, in some cases, of being the next Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, a former athlete who became one of Hollywood’s biggest box-office draws. Others are looking to give iconic producers Jerry Bruckheimer and Will Packer a run for their silver screen money.

Either way, it’s happening. When they’re not on the court, some All-Stars are working on their postgame plan for Tinsel Town dominance. “Kobe put out a thing saying that he wants to be remembered as an investor, not a basketball player,” said television/film producer Kenya Barris. “So many athletes have these other things that they want to do, but a lot of times their physical stature, or what they’ve been doing their whole life, sort of takes the focus [off] what they’re going to be. But … they have other things they want to do. Here are some of the most impressive Hollywood moves soon coming from your faves.


Lebron James

The NBA champion has already made his mark as a TV producer. James’ well-written and highly regarded Survivor’s Remorse (recently canceled after four seasons) was very loosely inspired by his own NBA life. Most recently, he’s partnered with best-selling author, actor and activist Gabrielle Union (who is also his best friend’s wife) for an ABC development deal; on deck is a comedy, White Dave. James’ successful production company, SpringHill Entertainment, has been making some impressive moves lately, and this new show (should it be picked up) will be a single-camera sitcom from writer/director David E. Talbert (First Sunday, Almost Christmas, Baggage Claim). It’s based on Talbert’s experiences as an African-American teen raised in an all-white neighborhood who moves to a black neighborhood when his mother remarries. But that’s not all: James is empire-building. Other possible projects include an HBO show that he and longtime biz partner Maverick Carter are developing that is centered on an Los Angeles-based sneaker store. It’ll be a look inside the wild — and expensive! — world of sneakers, with Lemon Andersen also on board as a producer. Their company also has a three-part Showtime documentary coming at the top of next year that will take a look at the NBA’s influence on pop culture.

Blake Griffin

A remake of 1992’s beloved White Men Can’t Jump is on its way, with the help of Griffin and black-ish creator Barris. Also on board productionwise is Ryan Kalil of the Carolina Panthers. The two budding producers have a company called Mortal Media. But don’t be surprised if we see Griffin in front of the camera. “Blake is unbelievably funny,” said Barris. “He went to the Montreal Comedy Fest, and he was what everybody was talking about. … He did a stand-up routine every night and everybody from the industry was calling me like, ‘Have you heard Blake Griffin?!’ ”

Kyrie Irving

When Kyrie Irving’s not making headlines for why he left the Cleveland Cavaliers to head to the Boston Celtics, fans are marveling at his hilarious alter ego Uncle Drew. If you’re unfamiliar, Uncle Drew is an “older” hooper who masquerades the fact that he can ball very well and dominates local pickup games — for Pepsi commercials. He’s a YouTube marvel, and soon he’ll be on the big screen. Next summer a full-length film will arrive, and besides Irving and co-star LilRel Howery (Get Out), several former NBA and WNBA stars will make appearances, including Shaquille O’Neal, Chris Webber, Nate Robinson, Reggie Miller and Lisa Leslie.

“He did a stand-up routine every night and everybody was calling me like, ‘Have you heard Blake Griffin?!’ ”

Kobe Bryant

Might the 18-time All Star soon be adding Oscar nominee to his growing list of career accolades? Could be. He penned a poem, Dear Basketball, to announce the end of his storied career as a player, and now he’s turned the words into a brilliant animated short that he executive-produced and narrated. He worked on the film — it premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in April and screened again at the Hollywood Bowl last month — with Disney animator Glen Keane and composer John Williams. And folks are already talking Oscar. Watch him perform it live with Williams here.

Talking Shaq: Is he the new ‘Arsenio Tall’? The NBA Hall of Famer fills in for Jimmy Kimmel — is this a future look for Shaquille O’Neal?

NBA Hall of Famer Shaquille O’Neal filled in for Jimmy Kimmel on ABC’s Jimmy Kimmel Live! on Monday night, as the show’s star took a week off for his son’s heart surgery. The show will have a series of guest hosts while he is gone. O’Neal’s guests were Mila Kunis and Aisha Tyler. Did you know O’Neal recorded a platinum album? The proof, and all of the details, are here.

Daily Dose: 10/23/17 POTUS bickers with Gold Star widow

What up, gang? Happy Monday. It’s another Around The Horn day in these streets, so that’s a good thing. Also a good thing? Guess who’s back in these streets, kiddos? You guessed it. The gawd.

David Letterman is a comedy legend. When I was a kid, I spent many a night staying up way too late to watch his television program, which I’d argue is the greatest of its kind of all time. He was thoughtful, random, kind, but mean when he needed to be, for people who deserved it. This weekend, he received the Mark Twain Prize for comedy, which is a well-deserved award. A bunch of his comedian colleagues spoke before he accepted the award at the ceremony, and they all had quite a bit to say about the president.

Speaking of the president, the circumstance regarding U.S. Army Sgt. La David Johnson has moved from uncomfortable to shameful. When a soldier is killed, condolences from a sitting commander in chief are not out of the ordinary. It’s certainly not a requirement, but how each president does it is up to them. Trump has found a way to now be in a war of words with a Gold Star widow, in public, no less, which isn’t a good look for anyone involved at all. She sat down with Good Morning America to talk about it.

In New York City, you gotta watch your back. Why? Because a sucker is born every minute. Meaning, people are constantly trying to con you out of your money, one way or another. Some people do it the ski mask way, as it were, some people do it via Wall Street banks, and some people just ask. Seriously. These “friendly thieves” are roaming the city, looking for drunken idiots or otherwise unsuspecting people, befriending them, then just requesting their possessions. Pro tip: Do not give these people your money.

It doesn’t appear that Eric Bledsoe will be playing in Phoenix any longer. The 27-year-old point guard straight up tweeted that he wanted out of the NBA’s desert squad, and now, it looks like he’ll get his wish. To be clear, the Suns are garbage. And have been for two seasons. This wasn’t always the case, but various botched personnel decisions have put them behind the eight ball, and now their best player is done. It’s unfortunate, because they could have had something going out there, but that franchise is a mess.

Free Food

Coffee Break: R. Kelly’s history with young women, so-called R&B proteges, and girls in general is extremely disgusting and problematic. It’s a long list of offenses that somehow have not landed him in jail, but now one of former artists is speaking out. In long form.

Snack Time: There are crazy plays in high school games and THERE ARE CRAZY PLAYS IN HIGH SCHOOL GAMES. This high school volleyball play is 100 percent bananas.

Dessert: Apply for this job. Thank me later.

America is comfortable with protesting athletes on their screens, but not in their stadiums In the movies and on TV, white players join in and no one demands athletes kneel on their own time

From Curt Flood to John Carlos and Tommie Smith to Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf to Colin Kaepernick, there’s a long tradition of black athletes standing up for themselves and the rights of others.

Such protests are highly controversial, both with authority figures in sports and with fans: Carlos and Smith were immediately banned from the Olympic Village, Abdul-Rauf’s NBA career came to an early end and President Donald Trump called players who kneel during the national anthem “sons of b—-es” and demanded they be fired. Some of those still-employed kneeling players met with NFL owners earlier this week to discuss a path forward.

Yet when America sees protesting athletes in movies and on TV, the dynamic is different from what happens in real life. Really, really different.

In the idealized settings of television and film, just as in real life, the protests come with great cost and risk. Still, when screen athletes stand up for their principles, not only do they win, they’re clearly identified as the “good guys.”

Audiences are comfortable with fictional athletes who stand up to corporate bullies, in part because movies and TV demand character development. Even when fictional players begin as compliant automatons, being told what to do and how to do it, their personal journeys are characterized by growth and self-awareness. There’s an expectation that once athletes discover their power and witness injustice, they will be compelled to act. After all, a bunch of guys looking at a problem and shrugging their shoulders doesn’t make for good drama.

But those expectations don’t translate well to real life, as polling data on NFL player protests has shown.

When fans and political critics demand that players “stick to sports,” they’re saying they want the excitement of games and terrific athletic ability, but they want it divorced from players’ full humanity. They want the action sequences, but no plot or character development. Which is how we get people saying athletes should protest “on their own time” — essentially, after the credits have run and no one’s watching.

In TV and film, once we’ve gotten to know characters as people who have the same emotional needs as we do, it becomes easier to digest the necessity of their protests. Their motivations drive our sympathy. We want them to win.

The racial dynamic is different on-screen as white characters are cast as protest leaders. And these works also communicate why the element of public spectacle is so important: It raises the stakes. Public or near-public showdowns are a key trope in these stories because they’re seen as necessary to achieving the desired results.

Here’s a look at some of the movies and television shows in which athletes stood up to the man(agement):

Survivor’s Remorse (2014-17)

Courtesy of Starz

The recently canceled Starz comedy starred Jessie T. Usher as Cam Calloway and Chris Bauer as Jimmy Flaherty, the owner of Cam’s professional basketball team in Atlanta. The two have a few standoffs, but the disagreement between Cam and Jimmy that carries special resonance these days comes after Flaherty signs a $5 million contract with a firm to put advertising patches on players’ jerseys. The problem is that the company is the second-largest funder of private prisons in the country. Cam, flanked by his lawyer and manager, tells Flaherty he won’t play as long as the patches are on the jerseys. Every great fortune may have a great crime behind it, but this is where he draws the line.

This standoff takes place in the arena, hours before tipoff, and Flaherty, who knows he can’t win without Cam, backs down. This confrontation takes place not in the first season but at the end of the fourth, after we’ve had plenty of episodes to witness how Cam’s activism has been inspired by the suffering he sees around him, and after we know that Cam’s commitment to criminal justice reform is motivated in part by his own father’s imprisonment. Not only that, we know that Cam is generous to a fault. His manager is constantly trying to talk him out of giving away more of his money. If Cam hadn’t taken a stand on the patches, it would seem unnatural given what we’ve learned about the content of his character.

Varsity Blues (1999)

The cast of Varsity Blues.

Getty Images

I forgive you if the only thing you can remember about this movie is Ali Larter in a whipped-cream bra, but it really did have a bigger message.

James Van Der Beek starred as Jonathan Moxon, a backup quarterback for a Texas high school football team that has won two state titles under coach Bud Kilmer (Jon Voight). But Kilmer is merciless, racist and megalomaniacal — traits the school and community at large are happy to overlook so long as he keeps adding wins to West Canaan High’s record books.

Kilmer uses his star black running back, Wendell (Eliel Swinton), as little more than a mule, repeatedly deploying him for physically taxing runs but never allowing him to score a touchdown. The audience is treated to a bruising up-close-and-personal experience of those hits and the toll they exact on Wendell’s body. They’re gruesome.

Moxon is talented but not nearly as invested in football as his father or his coach are. And he hates Kilmer’s racism and mercenary disregard for the health of his players. Moxon gets tapped to lead the team because first-stringer and all-state quarterback Lance Harbor (Paul Walker) suffers a career-ending injury. It’s Kilmer’s fault — he insisted on pumping Harbor full of cortisone and forcing him to play until he was no longer physically able, costing him a college football scholarship.

When Moxon starts calling his own plays, gets Wendell into the end zone and generally pisses off his coach while still winning, Kilmer goes ballistic. He threatens to alter Moxon’s transcripts and derail his plan to attend college on an academic scholarship. But Moxon’s teammates have had enough of Kilmer’s antics, and they mutiny during halftime of the final game of the season. Kilmer’s team will only take the field of the second half without him, and the coach must relent or risk further public humiliation. The team wins the game, and Kilmer is forced to leave West Canaan and football for good.

The Longest Yard (2005)

In this remake of the original 1974 film that starred Burt Reynolds, prison inmates play a football game against a group of racist, sadistic prison guards who are constantly abusing their power.

In the 2005 version, Adam Sandler plays Reynolds’ role of washed-up quarterback Paul Crewe. Crewe isn’t an easy person to root for. Besides point-shaving, Crewe endangers himself and others when he gets drunk and leads police on a high-speed car chase in his girlfriend’s Bentley.

When he gets to prison, the warden, Rudolph Hazen (James Cromwell), forces Crewe to assemble a ragtag team of prisoners to give the guards an easy, confidence-boosting win before their season playing against guards from other prisons begins. The other prisoners sign on because they see an opportunity to give the guards a taste of their own depraved behavior. They’re comically bad at first, but under Crewe’s stewardship, they pull together. They start to develop hope and confidence of their own. Maybe they can really win this thing!

The black prisoners, led by Cheeseburger Eddy (Terry Crews), are loath to join the team until another prisoner, Megget (Nelly), is forced to swallow his dignity and pride. The guards confront Megget in the prison library and repeatedly call him “n—–,” in an attempt to cajole him into a fight. Megget resists the bait but relishes the opportunity to get his revenge on the field.

Once game day arrives, the prisoners are unaware that Hazen has made a deal with Crewe to throw the game. Crewe must comply or face life in prison for a murder he didn’t commit, one that resulted in the death of his closest jail friend, Caretaker (Chris Rock).

When the big day arrives, Crewe starts out leading the prisoners in what looks like a rout of the guards. Hazen reminds Crewe what he has to lose, and Crewe begins to throw the game. But he has a crisis of conscience and tells his teammates what’s happening. He decides to try to beat the guards anyway, leading the prisoners to a game-tying touchdown and a two-point conversion to win as the clock runs out.

In both Varsity Blues and The Longest Yard, the protests are led by charismatic white quarterbacks who have their own grievances but are happy to loop in those of black players as well. Would kneeling be more acceptable if Aaron Rodgers and Tom Brady had started doing it first, citing the same reasons as Kaepernick? Would Brady and Rodgers be criticized as un-American and unpatriotic, or praised for their compassion and for using their privilege to help minorities? And if the reactions to them would be different from those to Kaepernick or other black players, what does that say?

Both The Longest Yard and Varsity Blues feature unambiguously terrible antagonists in the warden, prison guards and Kilmer. They paint pictures of racists as unsubtle, selfish and uncultivated. They portray bigotry as a problem of individual extremists rather than something that’s endemic to the country. Again, we’re faced with the luxuries afforded by (admittedly uncomplicated) character development. If we don’t know NFL players and owners as well as we know the characters in these movies, how do we judge their actions?

The White Shadow (1978-81)

Ken Howard (right) portrayed high school basketball coach Ken Reeves and Byron Stewart (left) portrayed student and athlete Warren “Cool” Coolidge in the CBS series The White Shadow.

CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images

Ken Howard stars as Ken Reeves, a former player for the Chicago Bulls who injured his knee, ending his professional career. One of his college teammates, Jim Willis (Ed Bernard), offers him a job coaching basketball at the dilapidated, majority-black Carver High School in Los Angeles. The team is a band of undisciplined misfits — Reeves has a bad habit of referring to them as “animals.”

Carver’s star player, James Hayward (Thomas Carter), needs a job to care for his mother, who has ulcers, and his siblings because their father is dead. Another player, Curtis Jackson, doesn’t want to face the fact that he has a drinking problem.

Unlike the other examples here, the relationship between Reeves and the team is more symbiotic than purely adversarial. The chief conflict doesn’t hinge on Reeves being a bad person. Rather, Reeves is blindly navigating his new job and everything it entails. He’s in charge of a group of players who talk back and who are skeptical of authority because they’ve learned that no one expects much of them. The state of Carver’s campus — strewn with detritus, missing letters on its signage — communicates to its students that they don’t matter much. And if the students know they don’t matter, how is anyone going to be able to get them to care about school?

Vice principal Sybil Buchanan (Joan Pringle) acts as interpreter and student advocate in her interactions with Reeves, giving a credible voice to the players’ concerns. She tells Reeves he’s not a “white knight” and won’t be able to swoop in to the school and fix everything in 20 minutes. She’s indignant when Reeves enlists the team to move him into his new apartment on a Saturday for free, telling him the days of slave labor are over. Reeves and Buchanan are working toward the same goal, which is helping the students. But she and the basketball team are teaching a man who probably doesn’t think he’s racist not to behave like one. Created by Bruce Paltrow, The White Shadow offers a more nuanced view of race and racism than The Longest Yard or Varsity Blues. And it also says something about what it takes to be a useful ally.

Eddie (1996)

Whoopi Goldberg (center) starred in Eddie.

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Eddie (Whoopi Goldberg) is a limo dispatcher and devoted New York Knicks fan who wins a public relations contest to coach the floundering team. There’s a twist though: Eddie’s a pretty decent coach. Fans like her.

Eddie becomes more than a novelty act. She quickly discovers there’s more to coaching than calling plays. She’s the team’s chief haranguer, marriage counselor, therapist and mother. Her pestering and rule-setting pays off, and the team starts not only winning but also enjoying basketball again. They lose their arrogance and sense of entitlement once they realize they have a person who cares about them as more than ball-dribbling widgets to be yelled at, traded and cut. She’s a real coach.

Meanwhile, the team’s owner, “Wild Bill” Burgess (Frank Langella), a Texas billionaire oil baron, has decided to convert the Knicks’ unbelievable good fortune into profits — by secretly negotiating a move that would send the team to St. Louis.

Eddie, once she gets wind of the plan, stands up to the man whose ego is about as inflated as the 10-gallon Stetson on his head. Burgess sees the Knicks as chess pieces he can move about the country at his pleasure. When he won’t listen to Eddie privately, she takes their disagreement public, revealing Burgess’ plans to a packed house at Madison Square Garden and daring him to censure her for it. After Eddie risks the job she loves and the cushiest salary she’s ever had in her life, it’s not just her team who backs her up. It’s the city of New York.

In Varsity Blues and The Longest Yard, the athletes in question are not millionaires. The audience doesn’t have to overcome feelings of class resentment to sympathize with them. But what happens when that’s not the case? What happens when the players in revolt are professionals who make piles and piles of money?

You use an intermediary.

Eddie received terrible reviews when it was released in 1996, but it’s really smart about one thing: It uses Eddie first as a vehicle for criticizing spoiled players. And then, once it’s clear that Eddie is a sports fan, just like the audience, the perspective of who is “good” and “bad” begins to shift. Once we see Eddie and the Knicks players as part of the same team, working toward the same goal of making the NBA playoffs, we’re willing to accept their revolt — which, again, is public — against Wild Bill.

There’s a delicate balance that’s achieved, and there’s a thoughtfulness in positioning Eddie this way. When she stands up to Wild Bill, she’s a fan advocating for other fans. Eddie comes the closest of these shows to placing fans (particularly the ones who have been vocal about wanting athletes to sit down and shut up) on the same side as the pro athletes who make so much more than they do. Even though the movie isn’t directly about race, it illustrates how being rich doesn’t automatically zero out the balance on life’s problems. It doesn’t matter how much money you make if your boss simply sees you as a moneymaking property, and that’s a sentiment any populist can get behind.