Eddie Murphy returns to stand-up and we rank his 5 best routines From Buckwheat to Ice Cream Man, a rundown of Murphy’s comedic brilliance

Eddie Murphy, who in his prime in the 1980s was the funniest sentient being on Earth, is set to return to the world of stand-up comedy.

To put this in perspective, Murphy, 58, hasn’t set foot on a live comedy stage since 1987. That’s a ridiculously long time, even for an Oscar-nominated actor who stands as one of Hollywood’s most bankable stars with a combined $6 billion in box-office totals from movies such as 48 Hrs., Trading Places, Beverly Hills Cop and Beverly Hills Cop II, Coming to America, Boomerang, The Nutty Professor and Dreamgirls.

Murphy, who recently appeared on the Jerry Seinfeld Netflix series Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, reportedly is close to signing a $70 million deal with Netflix for a series of comedy specials. For those wondering why you should be excited that the voice of Mushu the dragon (Mulan) and Donkey (Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third and Shrek Forever After) is coming back to the comedy stage, we’ve got you covered. Here are the top five greatest Eddie Murphy stand-up routines:

5. “Buckwheat” (1982)

Recorded at New York’s Comic Strip Live before his landmark and controversial 1983 HBO stand-up special Delirious, this riff on the Saturday Night Live character, who helped catapult Murphy to superstar status, is just 1 minute and 36 seconds long.

Mary Gross (left) as Alfalfa and Eddie Murphy (right) as Buckwheat during the skit “The End of Buckwheat” on Feb. 18, 1984.

RM Lewis Jr./NBC/NBCU Photo Bank

“I was standing outside getting ready to come in here, man, and this little Jewish guy walked up to me and said, ‘Buckwheat!’ ” Murphy once recounted of his surreal association with the racially stereotypical, English-mangling icon from the Little Rascals comedy shorts, which ran from 1929 to 1938. “And there was some brothers standing next to me saying, ‘What that guy call you, man?’ ”

This leads to Murphy weighing the absurdity of such a name as he imagines Buckwheat’s extended breakfast-themed family, which includes his brother Farina, little sister Shredded Wheat and twin brothers Quisp and Quake. There’s also a special needs cousin Special K, big sister Trix, who happens to be a sex worker, an older flamboyant brother Lucky Charms and … well, you get the point.

4. “James Brown” (1983)

Murphy’s aforementioned Delirious gig, filmed at Washington, D.C.’s historic DAR Constitution Hall, has its share of insensitive material. Fifteen years later, the comedian apologized to the LGBTQ community for using a homophobic slur during several bits.

Edwin Newman (left) and Eddie Murphy (right) as James Brown on Saturday Night Live during the “Speaking Freely” skit on Feb. 25, 1984.

Photo by Alan Singer/NBC/NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images

But despite those cringeworthy moments, there are still copious amounts of comedic brilliance. Only Murphy could celebrate the rhythmic genius of the Godfather of Soul while lambasting his indecipherable lyrics. “You don’t even have to be able to talk to sing and get famous,” he explains. “James Brown been singing for 20 years. I don’t know what the f— James is talking about.” From there, the gifted impersonator breaks into an in-the-zone Brown, leading his confused band into a laughable call-and-response routine.

3. “The Pope and Ronald Reagan” (1982)

Jokes about assassinations can be dicey. Indeed, the same year that Murphy released his debut comedy album, America was embroiled in a serious debate over gun control. The 1980 shooting death of Beatles legend John Lennon and the assassination attempts on President Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul II, as well as the killing of Egyptian leader Anwar Sadat, in 1981 cast a cloud over the nation.

But Murphy was still able to find humor in even the darkest of times. “What’s your rationale for shooting the Pope?” he ponders soberly before sticking the landing. “I guess the guy figured, ‘Look, I want to go to hell, but I don’t want to stand [in] a line with everybody else. I want the hell express.’ ” The nervous spectators erupt with laughter.

2. “Dexter St. Jock” (1987)

“Women ain’t like us,” offers a philosophical Murphy, wearing a blue and black leather suit and gloves as if he were the lead singer in a swaggering rock ’n’ roll outfit. “It’s not their nature to fool around.” Of course, he was just softening up the men in the audience who were witnessing his show at Madison Square Garden’s Felt Forum. This was the site of Murphy’s record-breaking 1987 concert film Raw, the highest-grossing stand-up comedy movie ($50.5 million) of all time.

The sexual politics of male/female relationships has always been a go-to topic for Murphy. But what makes Dexter St. Jock — the fictional, chiseled, well-endowed island god — is the nightmare he represents to all cheating dudes who have gotten away with their fair share of dirt in dingy hotel rooms. “Women are going to do it classy,” Murphy warns. “You keep messing her over, then eventually she says some s— like, ‘I think I’m going to go to the Bahamas by myself for the weekend.’ ” We all know what happens next. Dexter (“If you were my woman, I would make love to you CON-STANT-LY!”), mammoth joint in hand, amid the intoxicating sounds of Bob Marley, is “f—ing your woman. … Well.”

1. “Ice Cream Man” (1987)

We could have easily placed Murphy’s memorable “Half” Raw rant, in which he envisions the sheer horror of entering a marriage without a prenup, at the No. 1 spot. His boisterous retelling of a phone conversation with Bill Cosby demanding that Murphy clean up his act also deserves mention. (This was years before Cosby was found guilty of assaulting and drugging a woman in his home near Philadelphia).

Eddie Murphy hasn’t stepped onto a live comedy stage since 1987.

Photo by Lynn Goldsmith/Corbis/VCG via Getty Images

But for the top spot we went with Murphy’s sublimely joyous “Ice Cream Man.” It’s the perfect Eddie Murphy joke that transcends class, race, age and sex. The Delirious standout works because we were all kids once. “Remember when the Ice Cream Man used to come to town when you was little and no matter what you was doing, you would stop and lose your f—ing mind?” Murphy asks. By the time he breaks into the ice cream dance, you are in tears.

From ‘The Last O.G.’ to hosting The ESPYS, Tracy Morgan is back Returning from a horrific accident, the comic had to learn to be funny again

Tracy Morgan’s sharks don’t have names.

“Are you crazy?!” he asks me, jutting his head back in mock dramatic fashion at the idea of such a silly question. And then comes the isn’t-it-obvious? tone familiar to anyone who has heard Morgan’s deadpan delivery: “They’re sharks!”

Still, he’s enamored of them. Proud even. He smiles as he points out a hammerhead, a whitetip and a Japanese leopard shark. A puffer fish coexists in that same tank; he’s the first fish to greet us as Morgan uses a remote control to turn the security system off and open the doors to the pool house to reveal the shark tank in the backyard of his palatial, 31,000-square-foot estate in suburban Alpine, New Jersey.

He smiles as he looks over at me. Nearby, there’s a swingset and play area for Maven, his 6-year-old daughter, a barbecue grill area that only he can touch and a pool that would rival that of any five-star vacation compound.

“My babies swim in here,” he says of the house his fish live in, “and my family swims out here,” he says, pointing at his pool.

Morgan, who will host the 27th annual ESPYS show July 10 on ABC, smiles again.

It’s one of the last times he smiles during my time here. For much of our conversation this day, Morgan, who became famous for his ability to make people laugh, is reaching for tissues as we sit next to one another in matching leather recliners in his office, unapologetic about the tears that continually fall from his eyes.

We’re only a few weeks removed from the five-year anniversary of a crash that nearly took Morgan’s life. He had to learn how to walk again. He had to learn how to talk again.

He had to learn how to find, and be, funny again.

“My face was this big,” he says, measuring a space big enough for three Tracy Morgan-sized heads to fit inside.

The accident was horrific. But he’s been coping with trauma since he was a small child. Like many sports superstars, he understands what it takes to return from a devastating injury.


Tracy Morgan and Allen Maldonado of TBS’s “The Last O.G” attend the WarnerMedia Upfront 2019 arrivals on the red carpet at The Theater at Madison Square Garden on May 15, 2019 in New York City.

Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for WarnerMedia

2019 has been Morgan’s comeback year.

Yes, he’s been working steadily since a triumphant return 14 months after his accident to host Saturday Night Live, the show that made him famous.

But 2019 is where the payoff begins.

His TBS series The Last O.G., which he created with Jordan Peele, is some of his best work ever. Morgan plays Tray Baker, a recently sprung ex-con who is surprised to see how much Brooklyn has changed during his 15-year stint in prison, with chain coffee shops, yoga studios and white people inhabiting the old haunts where Baker once worked as a petty drug dealer.

The series launched as the network’s biggest original TV debut last year, came back for a successful second season and was recently renewed for a third. The funny wasn’t a surprise — this is Tracy Morgan, after all — but the show’s depth was revelatory.

“A lot of times as a writer you’re scared of playing with the tone too much because people, admittedly, tune in to a show because they want to laugh or they tune in to a show because they want to see dragons. Very few of us ever think consciously, ‘Oh, I’m going to tune in to that show because I want to laugh and cry,” says comedian and actor Diallo Riddle, who wrote on season one of The Last O.G. “But I think that Tracy had such a good relationship with his audience and such a good relationship with the truth. Even old white people in rural communities can watch that show and watch black men in Brooklyn and be like, ‘I love Tracy Morgan!’ ”

The good news doesn’t stop there. Later this year — Morgan beams every time he mentions this — he’ll begin filming his yet-to-be-announced role in the highly anticipated Coming to America sequel that is set to hit theaters sometime next year. Eddie Murphy is an idol, and now he’s also a friend.

And this week, of course, the 50-year-old Morgan will host the ESPYS, perhaps his biggest audience since the Saturday Night Live gig in October 2015, 16 months after a crash that nearly took his life.

“I still remember the time I saw Tracy after the accident and you just go, ‘I’m so happy he’s alive.’ That’s all you could say,” Riddle says. “I’m so happy he’s alive because he kept grinding, and then to go into a third season of the show and to be hosting the ESPYS? … The ESPYS is a beast of an undertaking. It’s not easy physically or mentally. And the fact that he’s hosting it, given where he was, is incredible.”


June 6, 2019: Tracy Morgan at his home in Alpine, New Jersey just a few weeks from the five-year anniversary of the traffic accident that nearly killed him.

Timothy Smith for The Undefeated

Back inside his home, Morgan is wiping away a fresh set of tears.

I ask if his ability to be emotionally open is a result of his accident or if this is who he was before June 7, 2014. We don’t generally give black men license to feel like this — not without it being some sort of indictment on their masculinity.

His life has been painful, far more than one person should have to deal with, really. And Morgan allows himself to be, well, human.

“My dad survived Vietnam … he came home a junkie. He didn’t go there that way, [but he] came home that way. That was his terror, seeing babies dying in villages, and he expressed those to me,” Morgan says. “I didn’t understand it because I was a kid in [his] prime in high school, playing football, but I didn’t know what his struggles. … He had demons. You go to war, nobody wins.”

Certainly not Jimmy Morgan Sr., who died of AIDS when Tracy was 19. Morgan also talks about how much he looked up to his Uncle Alvin, the cool uncle who played college football and who died of the same syndrome.

That kind of trauma can be crippling. Somehow, Morgan discovered comedy.

“You find it in that pain,” he says softly. “Without no struggle there’s no progress. People don’t know. ‘How did he get that funny?!’ My father and my mother breaking up when I was 6. My oldest brother being born with cerebral palsy. … Him having 10 operations by the time I’m 5. My mom’s by herself, struggling to help my brother with them Forrest Gump braces on, him screaming, she trying to teach him … I seen all of that.”

Morgan pauses.

“You know why I became famous?” he asks quietly. “Because the kids of the playground could be mean. When they be mean, you go get your big brother, your big brother got your back. … I couldn’t do that. I go get my brother, he come, hey, he crippled. They start laughing. So I had to learn how to be funny to keep the bullies off my a–. All of my life, turned into business.”

Then, as if tossing it over in his head for a bit, he chases all of that heft with some lightness: “And plus, I learned in high school, when you funny, you get the girls. You might not score, but they be all, ‘Where Tracy’s stupid a– at?” he recalls. “They want you around, you make them laugh! My biggest audience is female. Same motivation. I’m married now, but I still want to make the girls laugh. Y’all got the world on your shoulders. At the end of the f—ing day, if you can make her forget about all that s— for an hour, you the man.”

“Great comedians — which Tracy is one of the great comedians — their comedy comes from pain,” says director David E. Talbert. “And the great ones allow themselves to access that, and then they share that.”

Morgan’s first taste of fame came in 1993 via HBO’s Def Comedy Jam, which was hosted by Martin Lawrence. Back then, it was a must-watch series, introducing and amplifying many now-famous black comics like Chris Tucker and Bernie Mac.

His childhood best friend Alan always told him how funny he was and that he should really make a go at pursuing comedy. Morgan, who was born in the Bronx and reared largely in Brooklyn, took workshops and eventually was working the local comedy club circuit. Comedy was his love, but he still had one foot in the hustle game.

“I was selling crack [when] my friend Alan got murdered, my best friend,” Morgan shares. Losing Alan made him focus.

“I come home, my youngest son is 2 years old. … Told him, ‘I’m gonna do comedy. …’ By all means, [my first wife, Sabina] could’ve said, ‘No you ain’t m—–f—-, we got three kids. What you going to do is go get a f—ing job.’ She never did that. She said, ‘Pull the trigger, Tracy.’ ”

“Four months later, I was on Def [Comedy] Jam.”

And then, another painful memory: “She passed away three years ago. Cancer.”


Comedians Chris Rock, left, and Amy Schumer, center, sit with actor Tracy Morgan and Morgan’s daughter Maven during the first half of an NBA basketball game between the New York Knicks and the Golden State Warriors, Feb. 26, 2018, in New York.

AP Photo/Kathy Willens

Morgan was almost gone too.

On June 7, 2014, a Walmart truck driver who had been awake for more than 28 hours was going 20 mph over the 45 mph speed limit in a work zone on the New Jersey Turnpike. He crashed into a limousine bus carrying Morgan and a small group of friends and colleagues. Morgan’s friend James McNair died, and Harris Stanton and Ardie Fuqua were hospitalized. Morgan himself was listed in critical condition and was comatose for two weeks.

The driver, Kevin Roper, was indicted on charges of manslaughter, vehicular homicide and aggravated assault. He later accepted a plea deal that dismissed the charges in exchange for entering a pretrial intervention program. Walmart settled for an undisclosed amount of money.

Morgan’s life changed that day. He came out on the other side appreciative. Attentive. Spiritual, yet spirited.

“When bad things happen to you, that’s when you grow. It was painful at the time,” he said. “But now you look back on it and you go, ‘Wow.’ So this story is not just for me. It’ll be for the young people who want to achieve anything in their lives. You can’t give up. I got hit by a truck!”

But before he could do the work physically, Morgan’s road to recovery had to start with forgiveness.

“You have to learn to forgive yourself before you can forgive anybody. OK, you had a setback on the field. But a setback ain’t nothing but a setup. Because when you come back better, you going to do something that ain’t been done,” Morgan says. “Don’t you ever let no doctor, nobody, tell you you can’t. They said no, I broke every bone in my face. On this side of my skull you could see my brain. … I was scared. I didn’t know if I was ever going to walk. That’s when I had to put the work in. …”

Morgan begins to cry again.

“Ugh. Damn. Excuse me.”

I tell him to take his time. Soon, he begins to tell a story of sitting in his wheelchair and watching his infant daughter scoot around in her walker.

“I don’t want her looking at me like this; she ain’t understand what’s going on. I’m working, I’m working hard, because I want to walk again, I want to play with my daughter, I want to chase my daughter. That was my motivation. I wanted to chase my daughter. I didn’t care about show business. I wanted to chase my daughter,” he says, wiping away fresh tears. “And I worked so hard for a year just to get back on my feet. And I don’t care what athlete you are, you better pick a motivation, something near and dear to you. Something that you would give the world for. And you better go for it, don’t let it be over. I put the work in for a year, and then the triumph, like we was talking about. I saw my daughter — she was 14 months — and I seen her take her first steps. It made me get out my wheelchair.”

I ask him to clarify: seeing his daughter take her first steps motivated him to attempt to take his own first steps?

He nods.

“She took her first steps and I got up, and my wife started screaming. She said I was going to hurt myself because my femur was crushed. And I was like, ‘F— that,’ and I stood up and I took a step to my daughter. I took a step with my daughter,” he says. “That was four months after I got hit. The rest of the year, I just started working. It wasn’t just physical, it was cognitive — I didn’t even know my name. I had to learn how to talk again.”

Drying up the last tears with a new piece of tissue, he says, “It was a bad accident.”


This is who Tracy Morgan has always been.

In 2008 he co-starred alongside Ice Cube in First Sunday, a comedy written and directed by Talbert, who was a top-grossing playwright before he directed Morgan in what was his directorial debut.

In that film, Morgan played LeeJohn Jackson, best friend to Cube’s Durell Washington. Together they were portraying petty thieves who concoct a rather desperate scheme to steal $17,000 from a neighborhood church in order to pay off a debt for Durell’s ex-girlfriend — to not do so would mean that she and their son would relocate to a different state.

“This story is not just for me. It’ll be for the young people who want to achieve anything in their lives. You can’t give up. I got hit by a truck!”

After Morgan auditioned for the role, he and Talbert went out for lunch.

“He started telling me about his relationship with his mother, which is a complicated relationship,” Talbert recalls. “I knew that if I could access that, then he could really dig into the character.”

“And I remember when he was about to do his big scene with Loretta Devine. And he says, ‘Today I’m going to cry because real actors cry! Richard Pryor cried!’ That’s all he was screaming all day! The scene singing ‘Happy Birthday’ with Loretta Devine, he was just telling everybody, ‘I’m going to cry! Real actors cry!’ ”

Talbert gave Morgan some advice before they dug into the scene: “I said, ‘Tracy, the thing about emotion is you have to try not to cry, but it moves you so much that you can’t help but to cry.’ And I said, ‘So I want you to try as hard as you can not to cry. And as she’s singing to you, I want you to think about all those birthdays that were missed.’ ”

That scene is one of Morgan’s favorites. By the time Devine gets to the last few notes of the song, she pulls Morgan in close for an embrace. The camera zooms in on his face, a mixture of bewilderment and sadness. Tears are streaming down the sides of his nose.

It wasn’t just good acting. It was real life. When Morgan was 13, he left his mother’s home to live with his dad in the Bronx. He and his mother went years without speaking.

“Loretta Devine started singing. And Tracy, I saw him. [He] wasn’t playing the character anymore. He was the little boy thinking about his own relationship with his mother. And slowly as Loretta started to sing, he was welling up and just the most genuine, authentic tear fell. I yelled, ‘Cut!’ I only had to do one take of that scene,” Talbert says. “It was beautiful. It was perfect. I only did one take, and he said, ‘D, excuse me for a moment.’ And he went to the back, and about 15 minutes later he came out and I said, ‘You OK?’ He said, ‘I just called my mother and I told her she missed out on a real actor.’ ”

Since the accident, Morgan and his mother have reconciled.


“I learned in high school, when you funny, you get the girls. You might not score, but they be all, ‘Where Tracy’s stupid a– at?”

Timothy Smith for The Undefeated

As we’re wrapping up, I remind Morgan of a joke I once heard his friend Chris Rock tell in a stand-up routine. Rock observed that he was the only black man in his tony neighborhood and shared all he had to accomplish to afford to live on the street. One of his neighbors is a dentist, Rock said, before landing the punchline: “Know what I had to do to afford this house? Host the Oscars!”

Morgan breaks into the hardest laugh I’ve heard from him this day. He has a similar story.

“Just last week I had some rich white man jogging in front of my gate. So I’m coming out my gate, and he’s looking at my house. And he’s looking at me …”

“So what do you do?” the jogger asked him.

“And I said, ‘About what?!’ ”

Morgan and I both break out laughing.

“I had to justify why the f— I live here … but you know I start f—ing with him,” Morgan says.

“You know the McDonald’s box the french fries come in?”

“Yeah.”

“I make those. You know the straw you drink the Coke [out of]? I make those.”

Morgan laughs at his own story.

“And he started laughing. … In your mind, you got to justify why I’m here.”

Tracy Morgan is here — and hosting the ESPYS.

“That’s going to be fun. Because everybody knows that Tracy Morgan thinks outside the f—ing box. … Buckle up, kids. It’s about to get wild and woolly.”

As 2019’s new fall TV shows come into focus, more black antihero stories need to be told In putting black characters who dwelled in darkness on screen, ABC and others expanded the meaning of mainstream blackness

TV’s major networks made their upfront announcements recently, and there are some interesting shows coming to screens this fall.

Saturday Night Live vet Kenan Thompson finally lands a starring vehicle with NBC’s The Kenan Show, a family sitcom about a single dad. ABC’s black-ish spinoff mixed-ish stars Tika Sumpter and centers on an interracial hippie family in the 1980s. Megalyn Echikunwoke is one of the leads on Not Just Me from Fox. It’s about a woman coming to grips with discovering her father sired multiple children. Sunnyside is a Kal Penn-driven NBC sitcom with a multiethnic cast about a former New York City councilman who helps immigrants living in Queens, New York. Folake Olowofoyeku stars with Billy Gardell in Bob Hearts Abishola, a CBS sitcom about a middle-aged white guy who has a heart attack and falls for his Nigerian cardiac nurse. “Hardy har har.”

“Safe” depictions of black experiences are no longer a prerequisite for high visibility, and darker depictions don’t have to be filtered through white creatives’ lenses.

Considering returning shows such as The Last O.G. and the ever-popular black-ish on traditional networks, there seems to be a resurgence in sitcoms as it pertains to black programming. That isn’t incidental; networks have only recently been embracing of dramas driven by black leads. And that aversion spoke to how those networks saw black imagery and how it is received by white audiences. We had to fight to get black antiheroes on the small screen.

So often in American pop culture, dysfunction in characters has been used as a parallel for the wider human experience — and that dysfunction is regularly white and male. No matter how many snitching wiseguys or horse-killing compadres Tony Soprano strangled, bludgeoned or shot, no matter how many rivals, partners and associates Walter White murdered or manipulated, it was all supposed to show us something about the human condition.

As is the function of privilege, white storytellers not only have the benefit of larger, wider platforms but also of not having to navigate racism’s dizzying maze of double standards and slanted expectations. White criminality on screen could say something about humanity; black criminality on screen was expected to say something about black people. From the ‘hood movies of the early 1990s to that other beloved HBO drama The Wire, if bad black people were at the center of the story, there would be a lot of hand-wringing about what the portrayal was going to yield in a culture that undoubtedly relishes demonizing black folks.

That burden of portrayal and mainstream platforms’ indifference toward black creators and audiences meant that, at least on the small screen, dark or dramatic black content was suddenly in short supply. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, as dysfunctional white people became the centerpiece of American television, black shows nearly disappeared from the popular landscape. Even during the beloved “heyday” of black TV shows in the ’80s and ’90s, scripted black TV tended to be predominantly family sitcoms. The few shows that were still prominent in the 2000s remained PG-friendly half-hour comedies — until Scandal.

The hit show Scandal, created by Shonda Rhimes (left) and starring Kerry Washington (right), debuted in 2012 and announced the arrival of a new era in black television.

Photo by David Livingston/Getty Images

Debuting to strong ratings back in 2012 and becoming the No. 1 show in its time slot, Shonda Rhimes’ hit announced the arrival of a new era in black television. The show was the first major contemporary drama with a black female lead. In centering on a complex black woman who was both obviously brilliant at what she did but who was wrestling with personal demons and character dysfunctions that would threaten all that she’d built, that prime-time hit changed what popular black television in the “prestige TV”-driven age could look like. Characters such as Olivia Pope of Scandal, Paper Boi of Atlanta, Ghost St. Patrick of Power, Taystee of Orange is the New Black and Cookie Lyon of Empire would be driven by drama, heightened spectacle, suspense, surrealism and provocative storytelling. They showcased intriguing characters of questionable morals but undeniable charisma and riveting conflict. Of course, these were all very different kinds of shows, but they all highlighted the development of a new wave.

The black TV experience of the 2010s has not been defined by sitcoms or reality shows, although both have remained consistently popular. No, much like the wider culture, so much of our television experience has been driven by melodramas, crime shows and nighttime soaps. And in putting black characters on screen who dared to dwell in darkness, it’s helped expand the scope of mainstream black content. “Safe” depictions of black experiences are no longer a prerequisite for high visibility, and darker depictions don’t have to be filtered through white creatives’ lenses.

But that doesn’t mean disparities have disappeared.

The Starz series Power became a surprise hit in 2014 when it debuted. A glitzy urban series about a drug kingpin attempting to climb the social ladder of Manhattan’s elite, the show is the biggest on the network, but the writing and acting aren’t quite at the level of top-tier television dramas, and the tone keeps its storytelling just shy of grim, forgoing (or negating) suspense for shock and salaciousness. And while a character such as Lucious Lyon was always portrayed as the devil in a suede jacket — and there is no denying Cookie Lyon is no angel either — Fox’s Empire relies more on pomp and melodrama than actual suspense, casting the show’s darkness against a blinged-out haze of camp and histrionics. There still seems to be a dearth of black-themed shows on television willing to fully commit to taking their protagonists to an unsettling place, one that, while compelling, also doesn’t assuage the audience’s discomfort.

Taraji P. Henson (left) and Terrence Howard (right) star in the Fox hit Empire as Cookie and Lucious Lyon.

Photo by FOX via Getty Images

And Netflix’s ever-popular ensemble prison drama Orange Is the New Black has showcased a diverse set of black female characters: inmates of varying backgrounds thrust together in a minimum security prison. The show highlights personalities that can be as sympathetic and relatable as some are manipulative and murderous. But the acclaimed series was initially marketed as the story of an upper-crust white woman plucked out of her pampered world and now doing time — something it eventually subverted, to be sure. But did being pushed as such help ensure that it wouldn’t be received as a niche “black show” by audiences and critics?

The May 19 series finale of Game of Thrones was the talk of pop culture, as HBO’s gargantuan hit wrapped eight seasons of ice zombies, dragons, brothels, torture and incest with a controversial last episode that underwhelmed many and confounded others. But the better finale that night was from the cable network’s half-hour thriller-comedy Barry, a stunning little show that ended its second season in emotionally gripping (and shockingly violent) fashion. While obviously not the grand blockbuster that HBO has had in Thrones, Barry has proved to be another major critical success for the network, with star Bill Hader earning the outstanding lead actor in a comedy series Emmy last year for his work on the show, which he executive produces with Alec Berg.

Here’s hoping we remain committed to telling our darker tales with as much gusto as the uplifting and/or lighthearted ones. And here’s hoping those tales don’t always have to add a wink to soften the sting.

On the show, Saturday Night Live alum Hader gets to indulge his serious side and delivers some stellar performances. As hitman turned aspiring actor Barry Berkman, Hader’s everyman persona and comedic talents are still evident, but it’s secondary to a starkly stellar dramatic performance as the emotionally fraught, reluctant killer. The show deftly balances the more screwball moments with searing tension that has all the suspense of a David Fincher thriller. When the violence happens, it’s often swift and brutal — and without a wink or nod. Barry’s genuine desire to change his life sits parallel with his more rage-filled tendencies, and that inner conflict often leads to someone catching a bullet.

Popular shows Orange Is the New Black, Empire and Power will all be concluding soon. The final season of Orange Is the New Black hits Netflix in July, with Fox’s hip-hop soap opera and Starz’s 50 Cent-produced hit ending their runs with their upcoming respective sixth seasons. As such, we will be saying goodbye to some beloved on-screen bad people in the next several months. Hopefully, when we look back at these characters and shows, we’ll see what was only the beginning of a more diverse era in black programming. With upcoming shows such as For Life (described by ABC as “a fictional serialized legal and family drama about a prisoner who becomes a lawyer, litigating cases for other inmates while fighting to overturn his own life sentence for a crime he didn’t commit”) and returning series such as Snowfall and How to Get Away With Murder, black antiheroes are still on our screens — but networks shouldn’t let such shows fall to the periphery.

Here’s hoping we remain committed to telling our darker tales with as much gusto as the uplifting and/or lighthearted ones. And here’s hoping those tales don’t always have to add a wink to soften the sting. Our deepest dysfunctions can make for compelling truths on screen. Our dark tales are as affirming as any, and they only added to the broadening of our on-screen identity. If these wildly different shows have one common legacy, that is certainly it. And that’s not a bad thing to be remembered for.

Childish Gambino’s ‘This is America’ video is a beautiful nightmare Waking up from staying woke: Genius or not, Gambino’s frightening dreamlike opus is right on time

The night I watched Childish Gambino’s video for “This Is America,” I was scared. Having skipped the song’s premiere on Saturday Night Live, I’d seen the images and their deconstructions on the internet all weekend. And when I finally sat down to watch the full product, as opposed to just a collection of GIFs and clips, I didn’t even have it in me to turn on the sound.

When it comes to “what people on the internet say about black [insert word here],” I am instantly leery. And, as a matter of course, I’m instantly fearful of any form of black public expression that white people either identify as something they can’t live without or pull away from. With zero sound, the images from Donald Glover’s latest musical project felt like monsters under the bed.

I had a nightmare that night.

The next morning, the headlines were predictable, analytical and, in a basic way, accurate. Yes, Glover’s new work combines (insert description for juxtaposition of serious and jovial that represents how black people either stay sane, or don’t). And the new work certainly was designed to provoke (insert group of people here who don’t want to believe that the symbolism of black people killing other black people is ever effective). It is all of these things, certainly.

The specific mimicry of deplorable stereotypes that call back to an era we try to forget.

It wasn’t that I needed someone else to show me in video form exactly what’s torn our nation apart. It’s that with no real major tricks or magic, he could scare me enough into remembering that I won’t see this disaster alleviated in my lifetime. Which, in itself, compounds the original fear, which is why this video is keeping me up at night. As the kids say, I’ve never felt more seen in my life.


Sometimes I don’t automatically wake up from a nightmare, even when I know I’m having one. There’s a weird part of me that knows I’m sleeping and wants to explore whether or not I can tackle the specific fear. In this video, there’s an eerily similar pace: Things come and go, and images from the recesses from your brain pop up in ways you never imagined.

You’ve already read about the guns. The choir. The white horse. The cars. The African dance influences. And, of course, SZA. But those are specifics in a deliberate and detailed oeuvre already witnessed by likely more than hundreds of millions of people.

But to be clear, this isn’t about anointing Glover/Gambino as some saint. We’ve all seen how problematic that turns out in many cases, and it’s also unfair to the artists themselves. The “genius” category puts everything in a spotlight that is skewed and often pointless — and this is not to discredit Glover’s work by any means.

However, Glover is not without his wild statements that some may find problematic. He’s said a few things about women of color, specifically Asian women, that are gross on every level. There are a slew of other things — about rape, about the Black Lives Matter movement — that would make some immediately write him off. He believes, specifically with regard to comedy, that “nothing is off-limits.”

The difference between Glover and, say, Kanye West (who is completely outta control; these theories of performance art, while perhaps buyable, are stupid on his part) or Kendrick Lamar or any other number of black male artists who’ve been elevated as creative stalwarts is that Glover’s done it almost completely from the inside. He was a writer for the beloved 30 Rock, and then Tina Fey turned around and embarrassed everyone. He starred on Community, a show that, while not a ratings monster, was beloved by an interesting sect of America. You might recall that comedy legend Chevy Chase, whose character was noted for his “curmudgeonly racism,” was booted off that program.

FX’s Atlanta speaks for itself in terms of impact, scope and influence, but the fact that he got such a plum gig at all is an indication of exactly how much Hollywood loves him. And that’s before we even get to the Grammy nominations, his movies and his historic role as Lando Calrissian in the upcoming Solo: A Star Wars Story. Glover is an insider who’s been allowed to influence within the real framework of the Hollywood system, as opposed to crash-landing as an outsider.

Which is important to take into consideration when we view “This Is America.” Glover’s been making content in many forms for years, and what the new song and video represent is a magnum opus-like culmination of all of that. The sequencing of the video alone is incredible. What the artist presents as chaos is less about being happenstance and random and more about being inevitable and ever-present. That’s a reality that’s hard to portray in such a short space of time. It’s also scary.

The inevitability of destruction. The specific mimicry of deplorable stereotypes that call back to an era we try to forget. Watching him dance the Jim Crow dance is jarring and familiar, which is both equally bizarre and, again, frightening — the real scope of the black experience in this country. It replays over and over again on television, movies, the internet and, yes, music videos. Glover/Gambino is not exploiting as much as he’s reminding us how well-woven all of it is into our consciousness. And, just like in a dream, where you’re never really sure what’s real and what’s a perverse version of your brain creating a reality you don’t know you can trust, this video makes you ask questions. How am I supposed to know what everything means if it’s all free-flowing, dangerous and unstoppable? That’s the reality of being black in this country in 2018.

We live in a nation where we have to create apps in order not to waste food. School administrators get violent with kids who are just looking to celebrate their educations. The Ku Klux Klan is legit making a comeback. Police officers are outfitting their cars with the words popo, so we can apparently feel better about fearing for our lives because the tormentors appear with a familiar name. Even with that being well-known, our generational trauma somehow allows us to make fun of the very specific way that we choose to kill each other. It’s insane on every level.

Instagram Photo

We’ve got 4-year-olds who are adept at handling guns.

They do so in front of women appropriating cultures they don’t respect. Yet, all the while, these presentations of Gambino’s are somehow inspirational because it’s all we’ve ever had.

The final part of this video is the most harrowing because it’s an indication of what I believe to be Glover’s real message: that the capitulation to actual fear results in a flight response that only descendants of slaves can understand. While running for his life from what appears to be a mob of people, the look on his face says it all. Trying to escape in a dark hallway to nothing, the people are gaining on him. He appears to be losing steam but is determined not to stop. The examination of that inner feeling of helplessness that is so often the black experience is what’s most important here. Glover taps into that sentiment in a way that’s hard to grasp if you’ve never lived it.

I’m instantly fearful of any form of black public expression that white people either identify as something they can’t live without or pull away from.

Sure, we all know this is a barbaric and screwed-up place on many levels. But it’s also a place where we’ve found a way to thrive in the worst of conditions: shirtless, deliberate and composed. He can sing about staying woke and its importance of that until he’s blue in the face, but “This Is America” reminds us that the reality is actually scarier than the nightmare we’ve been trapped in since we got here. Waking up might not get you anything but more pain, more despair and, thus, fewer years to enjoy the rights and privileges of life.

That is America. And that’s exactly what it was created to be.

Taylor Swift’s cover of Earth, Wind & Fire’s ‘September’ is the bland potato salad Chadwick Boseman warned us about Seriously, no one thought to suggest another song?

Let’s get the facts out of the way first. Country megastar Taylor Swift’s cover of Earth, Wind & Fire’s 1978 landmark cookout classic “September” is the latest in the Spotify Singles series. Previous installments include Miley Cyrus covering Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” and Demi Lovato doing Aretha Franklin’s “Ain’t No Way.” There are several other examples, but you get the gist of the blueprint. To be fair, covers are a staple in music dating back before Swift or the internet itself were even born. There’s no denying Swift’s song will introduce the original to an entirely new audience in her massive fan base. And if EWF can get some coins off this on the back end, it quite simply is what it is.

But all that being said, this — this, my friends — is the “bland a– potato salad” King T’Challa was telling us about last week during Black Jeopardy on Saturday Night Live. (Seriously, watch the skit and tell me it doesn’t fit this to a tee.) Swift might very well be a huge fan of the record. Millions of people have a sentimental attachment to “September.” It’s a classic in quite literally every sense of the musical definition. You can’t go to a black family reunion and not hear “September.” You can’t go to a black family’s house over the holidays and not hear the song at some point. And you absolutely can’t go to a wedding reception and not hear it — the first half of the reception because we all know the back half of the reception is when the open bar and twerking commence. This isn’t even hyperbole when categorizing the record as one of the most important of a decade that produced a plethora of timeless anthems and albums. You can’t strip the soul and groove away from a song and expect it to fly. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.

To keep it a buck with you, I’m not even mad at Taylor. She’s obviously connected to the song enough to want to pay homage. I’m more so mad at everyone else who was in the studio session. Like no one thought to say, “Maybe ‘September’ doesn’t need a banjo in it.” Like no one suggested, “What do you think about [insert another song]?” True story — one time I purposely moved in the barber’s chair when I was 8 or 9. I wanted to get a bald head like Michael Jordan and I had a basketball game that weekend, so in my mind this would all work perfectly. Nevertheless, my mom cursed me out, telling me I “looked more like a bright a– light bulb” than my favorite player. I played horribly that weekend, and it’s all because I went rogue in the barber’s chair. In my mind, that’s what happened on this cover of “September.”

Last but not least, though, R.I.P. Maurice White. And since we’re all gathered here today, we might as well listen to the original.

Daily Dose: 11/20/17 Della Reese passes at 86

What’s up, gang? We’re on a short week because of Thanksgiving, but we’re going to power through anyways. By the way, I linked up with the 30 for 30 gang to talk about their first episode of season two. You can listen here!

Della Reese has made the transition. While she was best known later in life for her role on the television program Touched By An Angel, she had quite the career in music before that. But her on-screen work was certainly her calling card, with several films and other television roles to her name. For me, Della Reese always sort of played Della Reese, which was always excellent. She was 86 years old and leaves behind her husband and three children.

Chance the Rapper hosted Saturday Night Live this past weekend. I imagine that many people in America aren’t necessarily that familiar with his work, so seeing him in this context was a treat. Considering it was his first time at the effort, it was particularly impressive. Here’s the other thing: When there’s a black host, all the black characters tend to get more airtime with the sketches. If you missed it, you can check out all the sketches here. The Family Feud scene is particularly worth your time.

You know what happens when you don’t respect your own diversity? You lose money. Take the example of CBS, which decided to jettison actor Daniel Dae Kim after a money dispute regarding Hawaii Five-0. Basically, they did not want to pay actors of color as much as their white counterparts. So Kim walked, and with him went his brainchild The Good Doctor, which he is executive producing. Now, that show is a huge hit for ABC. There’s clearly a lesson to be learned here.

When it comes to video games, I play sports ones. I’m mostly a FIFA guy, but I enjoy a reasonable variety of others too. But some folks take things a little more seriously than that. I feel like the most I’ve ever bet on a turn on the sticks was a case of beer in college, but then again, nobody was balling like that as far as wagers go. But for rap stars Lil Yachty and 21 Savage, the stakes are way higher. Apparently, these two dudes went at it on NBA 2K and Yachty lost $12K. Yeesh.

Free Food

Coffee Break: The American Music Awards were last night, and while the acts were one thing, Tracee Ellis Ross was the host. And to make things even better, her mom, Diana Ross, was getting a lifetime achievement award. Perhaps best of all, our favorite family dropped by to give her a message.

Snack Time: Terry Glenn was a heck of a football player for Ohio State and on into the NFL. He died in a car accident over the weekend.

Dessert: Serena Williams offers up a must-watch tribute for the holidays. Watch.

 

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.

Daily Dose: 10/26/17 NAACP travel warning tells black people to be wary of American Airlines

All right, y’all, busy day in these streets on a couple of levels. I’ll be on Around The Horn on Thursday, so that’s fun, and then I’m headed to Bristol, Connecticut, for some more fun to end the week.

Some people have to fly a lot. It’s just a part of life, and business travel is an unavoidable scenario. Depending on the type of person you are, different airlines are important to you in different ways. But an airport is also one of those places where racial discrimination is absolutely a thing and can affect your life drastically. So when the NAACP says that black folks should avoid American Airlines altogether because of a string of incidents, you’ve got to pay attention. At least American is trying to be understanding.

We’ve come such a long way on marijuana. Basically, the only people in polite society these days who think it should still be illegal are backward-thinking folks who have willfully ignored the past. Between mandatory sentencing that unfairly targets people of color and the actual health benefits of trying to make the “drug” and its effects more mainstream, it’s about time we legalized it. Now, according to a new poll from Gallup, most Americans believe that to be true as well.

George H.W. Bush is an American president. Apparently, he’s also a groper. Yes, it’s sad to have to talk about such an old man in such a way, but just because you sat in the Oval Office it doesn’t mean that you get to grab women’s butts for the rest of your life. See, he’s also been in a wheelchair for a while, which his camp seems to think makes this whole thing funnier, which it doesn’t. Now, more women are coming out saying this happened. He’s even got a joke to go with his predatory ways. Yeah, not cool.

Welp, it looks like LaVar Ball was right again. The man who everyone loves to hate said the Los Angeles Lakers would beat my Washington Wizards on Wednesday night, and guess what? They did. And not only did he say that before the game, he said that during the game, while it was still happening, so whether or not he knew what he was talking about, he was correct. Why does this matter? Because one Marcin Gortat was talking trash before the game, as was one John Wall of the Washington Wizards.

Free Food

Coffee Break: We’re getting close to Halloween, which means it’s time for all of our seasonal tricks to come out of the bag. And the one that’s the best from Saturday Night Live is obvious: Tom Hanks’ role as David Pumpkins. Well, it’s coming back as its own full-blown special. This oral history of the character is hilarious.

Snack Time: If someone did this to any member of my family, I would be doing a whole lot more than just suing when it came down to it. There would need to be MANY conversations about MANY things.

Dessert: Justice League fans, here’s a little nugget for you.

Jay Pharoah knows a lot about being ‘White Famous’ The ‘Saturday Night Live’ alum stars in a new series about the perils of making it big

Truth is, Jay Pharoah isn’t sure if he’s “white famous” or not — yet. But he sure gets the head nod — and maybe the occasional side-eye, if he’s keeping it all-the-way honest — from some of the world’s most famous athletes, a surefire sign that the comedy he produces is landing in the inboxes and on the flat-screens of cultural tastemakers. “When LeBron James said, ‘What’s up?’ to me at the [Mayweather] fight this year,” Pharoah says, stopping to laugh, “it was like, ‘Ohh, snap! LeBron knows me! And everybody knows LeBron! So …”

“White famous.” Get it? It’s ostensibly that moment for people of color working in music, television, film or comedy (or whichever culture space) when one’s star power penetrates the mainstream: Masses of white folks know who you are. One is not just ’hood famous. Or solely Latino famous. One is not purely internet famous, or famous in some other, smaller sector. White famous means one is so famous that one has to mind all one’s p’s and q’s because everyone knows of you — which usually also means that the check is fat.

White Famous also happens to be the name of Pharoah’s new show (it premieres on Showtime on Oct. 15), inspired by the early career moves of Academy Award winner Jamie Foxx, who executive produces the show in collaboration with Californication creator Tom Kapinos. Californication creator Tom Kapinos) directs the first episode. Pharoah plays a rising comedian trying to maintain his cred with black fans while crossing over to a broader audience.

But as for himself? Pharoah made his mark starring in NBC’s Saturday Night Live — he joined in 2010 — on which he delivered memorable impersonations of President Barack Obama, Jay-Z and even First Take’s Stephen A. Smith. His tenure there ended unceremoniously before this last keystone season, in which Alec Baldwin won rave reviews in 2016 (and an Emmy last month) for his impersonation of President Donald Trump. But for Pharoah, the time was right to step away, he said.

“LeBron knows me! And everybody knows LeBron!”

“I was looking for the next-level type of thing … something that would show every aspect of Jay Pharoah, and not just from one area. I was looking for something that was going to show the spectrum. You start knowing it’s time to go when everything’s like, ‘OK, I’ve seen it all.’ When you start to get antsy.”

This new character, Floyd Mooney, of course feels familiar to Pharoah. “I immediately connected with the material,” he said. “I know how that journey is. I know how it is to being a hot, popping comic and trying to cross over. I know how that feels. I know that story.” But here’s what’s foreign: being the main guy. This is Pharoah stepping out and anchoring a show — for the first time. Pressure.

“There’s definitely less sleep [and] there’s more memorization, but I always feel like I was being groomed to be what I am now,” he said. “It’s a little nerve-wracking! But it’s not as intimidating as maybe it would’ve been when I was 22, you know? I actually had a chance to be a lead of a show. [But] I was … nervous, and nobody really [knew] me. I’d rather build my base, build a name, and then get off of that show and go do something where I’m starring. And that’s exactly what happened.” He said he feels like he’s right where he needs to be.

“I’m ready for everything. I’ve seen this industry; I’ve seen what it entails. I know what to stay away from. I know what type of vibe I don’t click with. I get that now. I’m 29. Before, I was a little more wet behind the ears … but now I feel like I’ve fallen into the position very well.”

Pharoah’s character is very principled, and in some ways it feels like a direct lift from Pharoah’s own life story. Pharoah has talked before about the back-and-forth toward the end of his tenure at SNL. “They put people into boxes,” he said in April, not long after his contract was not renewed. “Whatever they want you to do, they expect you to do. And I’m fiery. I’m not a yes n—–.”

He continues to think about things he refused to do — such as wear a dress.

“The dress conversation is a big topic in the black community,” Pharaoh said. “There’s always a conversation [about] Hollywood trying to emasculate black men.”

The series addresses that very thing, right away, with a savvy assist from Foxx. It’s one of those topics — complex, risqué — that the show wanted to have a conversation about.

“That definitely gets brought to light in this show. A lot of topics that get talked about behind closed doors, that celebrities, especially black celebrities, have to deal with,” he said. “I think there’s going to be a lot of water cooler conversations.”

“I know how it is to being a hot, popping comic and trying to cross over.”

One conversation he likely won’t be part of with this new show, though? Uncomfortable ones with superstar athletes. This new Showtime series is scripted, of course, and doesn’t rely on his spot-on impersonations.

“I do LeBron James, I do Shannon Sharpe, I do Stephen A., of course,” Pharoah said. “I do [Floyd] Mayweather, I do [Mike] Tyson. Draymond [Green]. Charles Barkley. Shaq. I get flak from some people. I do all these folks, but it’s all on love. I never have any malicious intent. I just want everybody to have a good time and laugh at themselves. Just like if somebody impersonates me, I’ll laugh at myself.”

Daily Dose: 9/18/17 Marshawn Lynch making all the right moves

Donald Glover and Lena Waithe did it for the culture. At the 69th Emmy Awards, the true shining stars of the evening were rapper and actor Donald Glover and writer Lena Waithe, who made Emmy history with their wins. Glover made history in the outstanding directing for a comedy series category for his B.A.N. episode of the hit FX comedy Atlanta and also snagged a second award for lead actor in a comedy series. Waithe made history as the first African-American woman to win an Emmy for comedy writing. Waithe was awarded for co-writing the Thanksgiving episode of the Netflix original series Master of None with comedian and show creator Aziz Ansari. And while we’re at it, let’s all take a minute to thank Issa Rae’s support while “rooting for everybody black” and remaining unbothered as many accused the Insecure star of being a racist and black supremacist. But seriously, is black supremacy a thing? Asking for a friend.

“Spicey” Spicer does have a sense of humor after all. After resigning from his position as White House press secretary in July, Sean Spicer is living it up, and even making fun of himself in the process. In the Emmy Awards’ opening monologue, Spicer appeared on stage behind a moving podium, mimicking the Saturday Night Live sketch that features actress Melissa McCarthy as Spicer. Despite President Donald Trump saying SNL should be retired after he became a regular punchline, Spicer used it to his advantage. “This will be the largest audience to witness an Emmys, period, both in person and around the world,” Spicer said on stage. The bit received mixed reviews, but the overwhelming response by those in attendance seemed to be amusement.

Welcome home, Marshawn Lynch. The Oakland Raiders running back is living his best life, and we ain’t mad at him. During a timeout in the fourth quarter, with the Oakland Raiders up 35-13 over the New York Jets, the camera panned to a hyped Lynch giving the crowd the best moves he could muster during the first game in his hometown. Hand behind head, dreads flying, bobbing to the music and getting hyphy is how I want to start every day. Could it have been the Skittles bringing Beast Mode to new levels? My best guess would be yes. If so, I need some too.

Train up a child. In another one of Kobe Bryant’s post-retirement family videos, the greatest of all time (GOAT) is grooming his daughter for baby GOAT-hood. In the video, Kobe’s middle daughter, Gianna, is seen draining a shot from the right corner and dodging her dad’s defense to go for a layup. “Gigi working on that DianaTaurasi stroke #wristwork #wnbafinals we r hype for the rematch!” Kobe wrote in the caption. Stuntin’ like her daddy.