6 — Friday, November 1, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
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BIOCHEM 212 TUTOR WANTED
Text Judy (312)‑678‑6736
By Ed Sessa
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
11/01/19
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis
11/01/19
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
Release Date: Friday, November 1, 2019
ACROSS
1 Kia sedan
7 Nincompoop
14 Made dapper,
with “up”
15 Syrupy stuff
16 1957 title role for
Michael Landon
18 Lays to rest
19 Recipient of
unearned
income, perhaps
20 Teammate of
Babe
21 Lash with a
bullwhip
22 Like jawbreakers
23 Mountain __: soft
drinks
24 “Wheel” deal
25 November
honorees
26 Range rovers?
27 Sub mission site
28 Law __
29 Mekong River
native
30 One on many
covers since
1954
35 Showed the way
36 Cry
37 Some govt.
hospitals
39 Eponymous
musical revue of
1978
42 Downsides
43 1995 comet
spotter Thomas
44 In a tussle
45 10-year-old
adventurer who
was 7 when she
debuted in 2000
46 Group taking
power by force
47 Sink
48 Othello, for one
49 Lacking color
50 Show that has
appeared in
various versions
for six decades
53 “Pork fat rules!”
chef
54 Smokey’s target
55 One way
alternative?
56 Square-burgers
server
DOWN
1 Place to go fly
a kite
2 Like some
hearings
3 Cause of
purring?
4 Words of
sympathy
5 Parts of gigs
6 Lemon finish
7 Follows
directions?
8 Ban competitor
9 One in a jury
box
10 Equivocate
11 They give
lessons in
French
12 Permits
13 Neutralize
14 Uplifting things
17 30-Across
catchphrase
22 Trail mix?
23 Marvel doctor
25 Competed
26 Simon with
songs
28 __ ride
29 Waikiki
neckwear
31 Move like a
hummingbird
32 Pan pooch
33 Peripatetic bell
ringer
34 Breaks for sitters
38 “The Blacklist”
star
39 Calif. barrio
region
40 Jazz fan?
41 Problem in an
ensemble
42 Tailgating sight
43 Stuck out
45 Seek out water
46 Actor/rapper
Smith
48 Dovetail
49 First name
in smelly
romantics
51 __ Geo: cable
channel
52 Denver-to-Vegas
dir.
HELP WANTED
GO BLUE
There’s something really magical about being a
different person for a day. Whether it’s just you but
fancier or a complete disguise, dressing up in any
way is generally a hoot, no matter the time of the
year. Of course, with Halloween this week, I’ve been
thinking about this quite a lot. What should I dress
up as? What incredible costume could I take pictures
of and post on Instagram, proving my loyalty to the
holiday beyond simple recognition? Halloween has
always been my favorite day of the year — I love
spooky things, jack-o-lanterns and I probably have
a medical-grade addiction to sugar that at this point
in my life is no longer cute. But I realize, now, that
the reason Halloween is so important to me is that
it offers an excuse to break out of the conventions of
everyday life, without anyone really caring. For one
day of the year, you can be anything or anyone. It’s a
day that’s full of potential and fun, and you don’t have
to be a child to appreciate that.
In fact, I don’t think I really started to appreciate
Halloween until I got a little bit older than its target
demographic. I remember my mom helping me to
hand-make my costumes as a child, with feather
boas and bears and different slices of fabric strewn
across our house for weeks before the special day.
The costumes she made for me were handed down
to my siblings as they grew, and then to our younger
cousins. Halloween was always a family affair for us.
But the joy of putting on my own costume that I had
come up with myself and even bled on a little bit while
I tried to sew it by hand was like something I had
never experienced before. Somewhere in the middle
school haze of adolescence, I was finally able to be
what I really wanted to be, to dress up like a princess
or Mother Earth or an ill-prepared bumblebee with
a broken wing. I had an excuse to wear the makeup
I wanted to, to dress like an adult when I was really
just a thirteen-year-old with dreams too big for
her britches. Nonetheless, my love of Halloween
developed as I grew up, instead of fading like I
imagine most childrens’ do.
The thing is, as much as I love Halloween, the
holiday excitement of looking how you dreamed you
would is easily translatable into everyday life. Sure, I
really go all out on October 31st, but I also dress the
way that I want to for the rest of the year, now. I wear
at least business casual on any given day. I really like
dresses, doing my hair, makeup, looking nice and
wearing nice things that I have picked out for myself.
It took me until almost high school, but I realized
then that you didn’t have to wait until one day of the
year to accept yourself as you wanted to look, not as
the world wanted you to. For so long, I only dressed
up when I had implied permission from others as to
not draw suspicion or judgy glances when I came to
class in heels and an elaborate braided hairdo. But
what’s the point of saving all that energy for a certain
time of year when you can integrate that joy into the
mundanity of daily life?
I challenge you to try the same thing — to bring one
part of Halloween or a costume or even something
you wore for a special event into your normal day.
What I found with dressing up, and still continue to
feel today, is that everything seems brighter when
you’re happy with how you look. It might be a little bit
uncomfortable and take a little longer in the morning,
but the confidence and strength that comes with
feeling happy in your own skin is worth it by far. This
doesn’t just apply to clothes, or even anything I’ve
suggested. It can start with small things, with that
nice hairclip you like, or a perfect shade of lipstick,
your favorite shoes that you’re worried you’ll ruin if
you wear them too much. There isn’t only one day to
pull out the stops from your look and make yourself
truly happy on more levels than just the aesthetic.
The spirit of Halloween (no pun intended) is not
meant to stay within 24 hours of the year — it can last
as long as you want it to.
Clara Scott: Playing the
game of lifelong dress up
A combination of “America’s Funniest Home
Videos” and game show prize money is how
I would describe TBS’s “The Misery Index.”
There isn’t necessarily anything wrong with
this format, aside from the overall lack of
“game” in the game show. “The Misery Index”
boasts a talented cast from top to bottom: It’s
hosted by the always entertaining Jameela
Jamil, star of NBC’s “The Good Place,” and
supplemented by James Murray, Brian Quinn,
Sal Vulcano and
Joe
Gatto,
better known as
members of the
hilarious
cast
of “Impractical
Jokers” or, The
Tenderloins.
Unfortunately,
the
clear
chemistry
between
the
cast can only do
so much for the
weak
concept
of
the
actual
game.
The show’s creator, Andy Breckman, based
the program around the card game “Shit
Happens.” Two contestants compete head-to-
head for the chance to win money by correctly
identifying how miserable an incident is. Each
event, from being breastfed until the age of
nine to falling 30 flights down an elevator shaft
and surviving, is rated by psychologists on a
scale of one to 100 — the higher the number,
the more painful and traumatic the experience.
The contestants must guess the number of
each experience, and the prize money goes to
the player with the closest guess. The stars
of “Impractical Jokers,” whose only purpose
appears to be adding some entertainment to an
otherwise non-skillful game show, are divided
between the teams. The contestant that out-
guesses their opponent moves to the final
round with a shot at the grand prize of $30,000.
Relishing in the pain of others has always
been popular entertainment on television,
but the game itself is dull. The questions lack
variety and are nearly identical to one another.
I would have stopped watching after the first
commercial break had I not been obligated to
see the program through.
Not all is lost,
however, as the
unlikely
pairing
of
Jamil
and
the
Tenderloins
supplements what
would otherwise
be
a
failed
experiment.
It
was the standout
performances
of
these individuals,
not the questions,
that triggered the
most
laughter.
Jamil’s
capacity
to remain relevant when she could have easily
been overpowered by four standout comedians
speaks to her own talent.
If you are a fan of game shows, this is not for
you. I would recommend sticking to “Ellen’s
Game of Games” if you would like to see real
comedic misery. If you like “Impractical
Jokers,” give this a shot — the show features
the same outrageous and cumbersome comedy.
Personally, I will not be spending next Tuesday
night watching “The Misery Index,” but if I
ever am feeling bad about myself, this program
will surely put things in perspective.
JUSTIN POLLACK
Daily Arts Writer
TBS
TV REVIEW
I don’t know how to explain his return other than to
start where I found him: I discovered Frank Ocean while
watching the VMAs when I was 13. He crooned “Thinkin
Bout You” seated on a rock on a stage that was dark save
for the light of a faux campfire — a tame departure for the
VMAs. I had no idea who he was, but his music was unlike
anything I’d heard before, his airy neo soul unfamiliar to
my tween pop taste. I read his infamous open letter on
tumblr, though I didn’t understand his love language yet.
I’d desperately like to say this was the moment I became a
fan, but I didn’t know who I was at thirteen years old.
I needed Frank Ocean when I was 17 and still had no
idea who I was. Blonde approached me my senior year
of high school as my interiority strained between what I
wanted of myself and what other people wanted of me.
I waded in a normalcy that perceptions of my Arabness
permitted. My shyness was a membrane between who
I knew myself to be and a community where everyone
looked like me. Normalcy, as I
knew it, was the strangeness
I felt around other people.
It was the way time passed
like water through fingers
around the boys and girls
who would never feel, never
know what I felt towards
them. The words, “Maybe
I’m a fool / maybe I should move / and settle, two kids
with a swimming pool / I’m not brave,” radiated through
my headphones in the hallways. Blonde compacted the
inumerable situations and feelings that deviate from
normalcy into an album that eschews such a concept, its
ambiguity and duality part and parcel to the very sound it
embodies.
Blonde, stylized “blond” on the cover, blurs
differentiations of gender and sexuality into an ether of
feeling, an internalized understanding of self through
external love and reflection. It defines an era, its contents
carefully curated around an amalgamation of emotions
felt in that four year gap between Blonde and Channel
Orange. For a public that wanted more following his
popularity in 2012, Frank only found it appropriate to
experience different things and create different music.
Such a departure from the spotlight would leave most
artists forgotten and anticipation for new work dead. The
opposite played and still plays true for Frank. His enigma
breeds anticipation. Every track he drops is a landmark
moment of force that needs reckoning. The year following
Blonde’s release unfolded over Blonded Radio, and Frank
singles dropped sporadically, unannounced but widely
circulated. The singles abandoned the sound of Blonde but
tugged at the same ideas, most notably “Chanel” in which
Ocean croons “My guy pretty like a girl / And he got fight
stories to tell / I see both sides like Chanel.”
Frank released “DHL” two years following the release
of “Provider” on Blonded Radio and over three years since
the debut of Blonde, almost the same span of time it took for
him to follow up Channel Orange.
And “DHL”’s time and space only leaves Frank fans
eager for more. From the get-go, the song is a significant
departure from previous work. Whereas “Ivy” radiates
a contemplative aura, “DHL” is about the present. It
balances itself on warped, misshapen synths that chug
and mesh into one another under woozy mumble raps.
Former tracks and singles carried themselves on sparse,
breezy instrumentals with every note clear and apparent,
every lyric bare and vulnerable. “DHL” is not one of these
songs. Beyond its sonic aesthetics, it presents Frank in a
braggadocious mood. He doesn’t croon; he raps, and he
raps about “diamonds,” “Starbucks” and being “rich as
fuck” as he’s “sellin’ records out the truck.” He no longer
feels like his lover “see(s) me
like a UFO,” and he wants
the world to know that he’s
“Got my partner in the front,
been my BF for a month/ But
we been fuckin’ from the
jump.”
The flows themselves are
a bit woozy, almost fumbling
over each other as narratives of sex and money weave
a story together. It never feels contrived though, and
never messy or unfocused. It plays out almost like a set of
mantras “I got a pack, came from the DHL / Just caught up
with a pack” loops over and over again at the end. Rather
than pinpointing these moments individually, they gather
together, layered to create a complex sound and energy.
Every piece comes together to usher in a new Frank
era that marks the end of Blonde. Debuting with the
return of Blonded Radio after his “PrEP+” club night
and two previews for new vinyl tracks, the single pushes
a new age of Frank’s music. Whereas Blonde is strong
in its vulnerability, “DHL” exists in a period in which
Frank expresses a need for artists to decide on their own
whether to be strong and vulnerable. The sparseness
and painstaking detail of Blonde is dissolved into beats
that better suit Frank’s current appreciation for the club
scene. For an artist defined by the impact and meaning of
his music, this is monumental, signifying not only a new
sound but a new reach. As someone who has grown both
from and through Blonde throughout college, I’m eager to
see how the next project will define a new generation for
longtime fans and brand new ones.
‘DHL’ & the end of ‘Blonde’
DIANA YASSIN
Daily Arts Writer
GETTY IMAGES
MUSIC SINGLE REVIEW
DHL
Frank Ocean
Blonded
GENDER & MEDIA COLUMN
‘The Misery Index’ is a
sorry go at a game show
CLARA SCOTT
Daily Gender & Media Columnist
The Misery Index
Series Premiere
TBS
Tuesdays at 10 p.m.