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Steve and Sansa like to do old-timey boxing with each other.

There are two excellent pieces on Rodney King right now!

  1. His daughter talks about her dad:

She remembered a father who spent Fridays crisscrossing Los Angeles and San Bernardino counties to pick up his three daughters.

On the long rides, he would map out the plans for the weekend. Sometimes, it was skiing at Mt. Baldy, surfing in Venice, a day at Raging Waters. He also liked to go to places where famous people, including black celebrities and artists, would draw attention away from him.

In school, she tried to keep her father’s identity secret. But he would show up during “Back to School” nights or cheer her from the audience during school plays. Then everybody would know that Lora was Rodney King’s daughter.

2. The brilliant Carvell Wallace:

Twenty-five years ago this week, the rest of the world found out. George Holliday’s video tape of Rodney King’s brutal beating by the LAPD was broadcast on KTLA. My mother yelled at me that they were beating this man on television. It was the most unsettling thing I had ever seen, and I dealt with it the way children do: I pretended it didn’t exist. I spent the entire day that followed feeling antsy, angry, and manic. I was bused to a high school clear on the other side of Los Angeles. I didn’t tell anyone else what I had seen. No one told anyone else what they had seen.

The horror of what was captured in the footage stayed in my body. I felt like it had happened to me. I felt like it could happen to me at any time, and therefore felt as if it was always happening to me. That’s the kind of thing it was, that was how it resonated. An image that replays in your head time and time again, working slowly on your cellular makeup until you forget, after awhile, if you watched it on television or experienced it yourself. When you turned out the lights you saw it, projected in the darkness above your head. Not really there, but never really gone. It changed you. It made you start shoplifting. It made you start smoking cigarettes. It made you switch to Bad Brains because N.W.A weren’t angry enough. It made you tag benches and throw your skateboard at buses crawling down Sunset Boulevard. It made you start huffing on the noxious and magnificent power of not giving a fuck.

This is one of the most moving and beautiful photos I’ve ever seen, and it’s disgusting that there are people using it for their gross, bigoted campaigns.

I woke up yesterday and clicked excitedly on the Ghostbusters trailer and felt totally deflated by what they did to Leslie Jones’ character (amazed that the white ladies can do !science!, because her skills are !streetsmarts!), and wondered if I was just being nitpicky, and then I got on Twitter and saw that a LOT of people felt the same sense of disappointment, and now I’m just a little bummed, and I hope the trailer is not representative of the movie.

Oh, and then this happened:

oh there are SECRET Trump voters among us:

I’m pro abortion and pro equal pay for women. I’m pro gay marriage.

I want to increase the minimum wage and I’m prepared to pay higher taxes and higher prices for groceries and fast food to cover it.

I’m pro death penalty, but against the pro gun rights lobby.

I hate the Republicans’ efforts to restrict voting rights for black people and the erosion of The Voting Rights Act, but I’m against affirmative action.

I’m very concerned about radical Muslims, and liked Donald’s idea to stop all Muslim immigration.

The Guardian’s Food in Books column takes on the jollof rice in Americanah:

She made him the kind of jollof rice he liked, flecked with bits of red and green peppers, and as he ate, fork moving from the plate to his mouth, saying, “This is pretty good,” as he always had in the past, she felt her tears and her questions gathering.

Melissa Gira Grant and Charlotte Shane in conversation:

Charlotte: Your sphere is so different from mine because you’re overtly political, you’re making critiques and publicly connecting dots that make a lot of awful people angry.

Melissa: The Shocking Truth About How Your Sex Work Story Is Already Garbage. I learned it from watching you!

Charlotte: I feel like because I’m mostly in the literary world, everyone actually treats me very gently—perhaps too gently. It’s sweet, and I know it’s coming from a good place, but it also seems entrenched in their (wrong) ideas about sex work, still. Not from paying attention to my non-memoir writing or how I am in public dialogues. Which is cantankerous, surly.

Scenes From Iconic Films Hastily Rewritten So That They Pass The Bechdel Test:

Taxi Driver

TRAVIS: Are you talkin’ to me?

JENNIFER: No, I’m talking to my friend Melinda. Hi, Melinda.

MELINDA: Hi, Jennifer.

JENNIFER: Did you see what happened in the stock market today?

MELINDA: I did. Big morning.

JENNIFER: OK, great chat. Bye, Jennifer. Bye, Travis.

As promised, our lovely Mo Moulton on The Diane Rehm Show!

Seems about right:

Screen Shot 2016-03-03 at 1.26.36 PM

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