All I Want for Christmas
- New knees — Since I am selfless, this first gift request isn’t for me. It’s for Derrick Rose. As a Bulls fan and resident of Chicago, there is nothing more depressing than watching the Bulls run the offense through Joakim Noah (have you seen his shooting form?). Listen, I love Noah, but HE DON’T HAVE THE ANSWERS (SWAY) to the Pacers and Bron-Bron. So, if you could hook up Mr. Rose with some new knees, I’d appreciate it. I’d also settle for the Bulls missing the playoffs and the NBA rigging the lottery so they can draft Jabari Parker.
- A space for critique — I don’t know if it’s the Internet Age or the Participation Trophy generation or whatever, but why is anybody with a (legitimate) critique a hater? Listen, I know there is so much brilliance in the world, but I swear everything I’ve read and heard recently that had been called brilliant was precisely not that. It could be me, but in case it isn’t, I was wondering if a space for legitimate critique and engagement might be secured on this here digital plane. Critique is not just for hating purposes, it’s to push the art form, the art-maker, the producer. It’s to challenge. How can we ever get better at what we do if everything we do gets called genius? How can actual engagement occur if everybody wants to be friends and therefore says everything is awesome? Why is “being nice” a requirement of digital friendship and conversation? A space for critique would not only make a little room for all the haters, but make way for more honest conversation .Since we’re all about conversations these days.
- For Scandal to get it’s life right — This is an unpopular request, I’m sure. But I cannot be spending Thursday night watching television that makes me hate myself because I know better. That slot is currently reserved for The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Shonda Rhimes has managed to make a primetime soap opera centered on a few issue-laced stereotypes about black women, and we watch it regularly. I just don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I’m so over Olivia’s lip quivers. So. Over. Them.
- A quick death to the open letter — Yes, back to internet writing. I’m *this* close to writing an open letter to open letter writers. It would say:
- No more movies about slavery — I know this was the year of Django and 12 Years… I saw he latter film, and you know what? I never need to see it again. I understand the importance or cultural significance of depicting an institution that really can’t be properly depicted and through the eyes of a black person. But, I’m good. Seriously. Leave those gifts under someone else’s tree.