What the hell are Michael and Huey Talking About?

Today's "Boondocks" stopped me in my tracks. I had no idea what Michael Caesar and Huey Freeman were talking about in the single panel. My daily fishwrap doesn't carry "Boondocks" in its Sunday funnies, so I have to check the strip in my Yahoo! home page. Today, the boys are after the NAACP instead of Kwanzaa. Since the resignation of Kwesi Mfume, the NAACP is without a leader. Aaron McGruder offers Flavor Flav (also styled Flava Flav) for our consideration. Thanks to Wikipedia, readers(?) of this blog will learn more about William Drayton (aka Flavor Flav) than they ever wanted to know. If this is (fair & balanced) hip hop, so be it.

(Click on image to enlarge)
[x Wikipedia]
Flavor Flav

William Drayton, better known as Flavor Flav (born March 16 , 1959), is a rap artist and member of the influential and politically-conscious rap group Public Enemy . Born in Roosevelt, New York , Flav, a classically-trained pianist, attended Adelphi University in Long Island where, while rapping under the name MC DJ Flavor he met then graphic design student Carlton Ridenhour (Chuck D). Chuck D compiled DJ Terminator X , Professor Griff , and Flavor Flav to form Public Enemy and release the debut album Yo, Bum Rush the Show in 1987.

Flav participated in Public Enemy as second rapper or vocalist (vocals were mostly done by Chuck D), and as the rap band's drummer. Some credit Flav with the role of rap sidekick. While in the group, Flav had numerous brushes with the law. During the time of the band's success, Flav was also a heavy drug abuser, though he is proudly clean as of 2004.

Flavor Flav appeared in the third season of The Surreal Life on VH1 , in which he had an on-screen relationship with actress Brigitte Nielsen.

Flav credits himself as having been the originator of the current platinum grill craze in hip-hop fashion. Though Flav himself has vehemently stated that he would never wear platinum teeth himself, his near-constant wearing of gold teeth has inspired other rappers to get gold or platinum teeth, he claims. Given that no noticeable celebrity wore gold-plated teeth prior to Public Enemy's success, Flav's comments are arguably accurate.

He often wears a clock around his neck, stating that observers will "know what time it is...". These clocks became one of Flav's trademarks. Flav is also known to wear flashy colors, such as hot pink, and a metal-horned helmet on his head, while Chuck D used to perform in dark colours, and the Security of the 1st World wear military uniform. Flav realizes that his style is bizarre, and he is proud of his own uniqueness.

Flavor Flav has six children by two women and currently resides in New York.

  

Ave atque Vale, Dave Barry

No more Dave Barry columns. The funniest English major of them all hangs 'em up. Most of the English majors I have known have been funny/odd. Dave Barry is funny/ha-ha. If this is (fair & balanced) melancholia, so be it.

[x Miami Herald]
The last word, for now; humorist gives jokes a rest
By DAVE BARRY

There comes a time in the life of every writer when he asks himself -- as Shakespeare, Tolstoy and Hemingway all surely asked themselves -- if he has any booger jokes left in him.

For me, that time has come. I've been trying to entertain newspaper readers since the '60s, when I wrote ''humor'' columns for the Haverford College News. I put ''humor'' in quotation marks because when I go back and read those columns today, I don't get any of the jokes. But at the time, they were a big hit with my readership, which consisted pretty much of my roommates.

After college, I got a job as a reporter at the West Chester, Pa., Daily Local News, where I was also allowed to write humor columns. I thought they were pretty good, but after my third one, an editor took me aside and told me -- this is an absolutely true quote -- ''you used to be funnier.''

That was more than 30 years ago, and since then, hardly a week has gone by during which somebody has not told me that I used to be funnier. I sometimes got discouraged, but I kept at it, year after year, the past 22 of them at The Herald. Why didn't I give up? I'll tell you why: I have no useful skills.

Also, this job has been a lot of fun. Here are just a few of the things that, as a professional humor columnist, I have actually been paid to do:

• I picked up my son, Rob, at his junior high school in the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile. (Rob, now 24, claims he has forgiven me. Although, to be safe, I'm still in the federal witness protection program.)

• After I wrote a column suggesting that opera might be fatal to humans, I was invited to Eugene, Ore., to participate in the Eugene Opera's performance of the Puccini opera Gianni Schicchi. I played the part of a corpse.

• An Air Force pilot took me for an F-16 fighter-jet ride, during which -- while hurtling through the brilliant-blue sky high above the Straits of Florida at faster than the speed of sound -- I threw up.

• After I made fun of North Dakota, the city of Grand Forks, N.D., invited me up there one January, and, in a deeply moving (also deeply cold) ceremony attended by a crowd of dozens, the mayor of Grand Forks, Mike Brown, dedicated a new sewage-lifting station in my honor. (Mayor Brown's official proclamation very eloquently compared my work to the production of human excrement.)

• I went on the David Letterman show and demonstrated to a nationwide television audience that it was possible to set fire to a pair of hair spray-soaked men's underpants using a Rollerblade Barbie doll. (To my knowledge, Rollerblade Barbie is the only Barbie ever recalled as a fire hazard, although I am not taking credit.)

These were all fun things to write about. But many of my favorite columns were suggested by you readers, an amazingly alert group. If an important news event occurs -- a toilet exploding, for example; or a boat being sunk by a falling cow; or a cow exploding -- I can count on my readers to let me know about it. On the other hand, if I write something that turns out -- despite my relentless fact-checking -- to be inaccurate, such as that Thomas Jefferson invented the atomic bomb, I will receive dozens of letters, often very irate, correcting me. I cherish those letters most of all.

So this is a great job. And yet I'm quitting it, at least for now. I want to stop before I join the horde of people who think I used to be funnier. And I want to work on some other stuff.

So for the next year, I won't be writing regular columns, though I hope to weigh in from time to time if something really important happens, such as a cow exploding in a boat toilet.

At some point in the next year, I hope to figure out whether I want to resume the column. Right now, I truly don't know.

So in case I don't get to say this later: Thanks to all you editors for printing my column, and thanks especially to all you readers for reading it. You've given me the most wonderful career an English major could hope to have. I am very grateful.

And I'm not making that up.

Dave lives in Miami, Florida, with his wife, Michelle, a sportswriter. He has a son, Rob, and a daughter, Sophie, neither of whom thinks he's funny.

© 2005 Herald.com and wire service sources. All Rights Reserved.