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Wednesday, February 2

Uncynical Wednesdays: Colorblind

The pop song that I am most enjoying right now is the Nelly/ Tim McGraw duet “Over and Over.” I saw the video for it about a week ago, and the director was none too subtle about the undercurrent. In fact it should just be called the current or over-current. That though urban blacks and country whites are different, we are all the same deep down. Heartbreak is heartbreak. Of course, part of this may have been because most alternative visions for the song could have left the impression they were singing about each other.

But still, songs/acts that have tried to attract divergent groups have always had a soft spot in my heart. Even Ice-T’s Body Count, which was attacked by the president for its song ‘cop killer,’ pulled thrash-metal and gangsta rappers into the same venues. To hear Ice-T tell it, everyone got along splendidly.

I grew up feeling pretty comfortable around mixes. The junior high I went to was about 90% Black, the remaining 10% was made up of Hispanics and Anglos. By high school, it evened out to about 30%, 30%, 30%, the remaining 10% were a mix from around the world. So when I went to a small Christian college in Tennessee, I was a little freaked that out of 500 students there were only about 10 blacks . I tended to hang out with them. They were very cool and teased me by nicknaming me Tyrone.

When I transferred to the University of Iowa, my roommate was, like me, ethnically mixed. I look very Anglo: fair skinned, blond hair, and blue-eyes. He looked very mixed: mocha skin and the nappy hair that was popular in the early nineties.

Anyway, we had this running joke that we were some techno-pop band called Colorblind. We would do this annoying running gag as well-intentioned but insipid stars. We would stage interviews with Catie Couric talking about how racism was dead in America and how everyone should be like us. “Just be Colorblind” we’d say with jazz hands. In retrospect, it was kind of a weird joke that I don’t think I’m explaining very well. But it amused us. We would do these routines for, like, forty-five minutes at a time. We didn’t have many friends. I mean, outside of the performance artist circles.

Anyway, one more reason to like Tim McGraw, I mean besides the porn star goatee.


Blogger hot babe writes:

Tim McGraw makes my heart go pitter patter. Something about a cowboy that does it for me everytime. Ahhh, the urban Ausie cowboy in Milwaukee... ummmm, sorry, I'm back. Jazz hands? I have to say I only use jazz hands when mocking musicals.


Blogger Erik writes:

I had never heard the term ‘jazz hands’ until I saw the cheerleading movie Bring It On. We didn't call them jazz hands at the time, but I used the term as shorthand for the kind of ridiculous, affected flourish we were going for.

Really, the motion was covering our eyes in a ‘see-no-evil’ way and then yanking our hands away as we exclaimed “Colorblind!”


Blogger hot babe writes:

Holy crap, that's funny! I wonder if I do that today at the office, if I'd be pulled into my boss's office for a little chat. I'm not sure that'd go over so well from an extremely pale skinned Irish/Scandinavian chica like me no matter how true or pure my intentions are.


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