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The moment that changed Dr. Jerome Motto forever came in the 1970s, when he was a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Francisco. “I went to this guy’s apartment,” he told Tad Friend for The New Yorker. “In his thirties, lived alone, pretty bare apartment. He’d written a note and left it on his bureau. It said, ‘I’m going to walk to the bridge. If one person smiles at me on the way, I will not jump.’”
W. Kamau Bell, perhaps best known for his FXX series Totally Biased with W. Kamau Bell, is a standup comic based in New York City with strong ties to San Francisco. Bell performs Friday, April 4 as part of his Oh, Everything! Tour at DSI Comedy Theater in Chapel Hill. Tickets are available online. Recess online editor Prashanth Kamalakanthan spoke with Bell about the benefits of a TV-fueled childhood, the untouchability of Dave Chapelle, race of audiences and more.
Friends, Recessers, Chronicleers: lend me your ears.
Greetings, computer chronicleurs.
Now I go: tap, tap, tap, tap.
My kindly Internet Chroniclistas: it is that time of week again. We have journeyed more than halfway. We have drunk the pre-class coffees and sweated those sweats. We have eaten the cold lunches, dispatched the demanding emails, called mom back after that two-letter text and successive voicemail(s).
Dear digital Chroniclers,
Turning left off Duke’s East Campus, Durham’s Main Street is a straight shot for a stretch. Try it—go as far as you remember. There’s Brightleaf, bustling on the right, Shooters tucked behind other bars, the Federal, James Joyce. This is well-worn pavement for students at the University, each inch a faded memory.
Somewhere along the way, students and educators became an afterthought at this school.
It took them two weeks to find all the bodies in the desert. What little remained was enough to traumatize the responders.
A man is stealing your home, poisoning your food and burning the forests around you, all the while explaining why you should thank him. Maybe you are allowed to question his genius, and maybe he answers. Some nod; others frown.
“Next year, an international coalition will end its war in Afghanistan, having achieved its mission of dismantling the core of al Qaeda that attacked us on 9/11.”
David Petraeus is seated on stage, one leg over the other. The spotlight shines. A vase of flowers shimmers on the table. Sept. 11, 2013, Duke University. His first paid engagement since leaving the CIA in disgrace. A giant placard to his right reads “American Grand Strategy,” the title of the program that brought him here.
I was eight on Sept. 11, 2001, just old enough to remember the day’s events with perfect clarity. School authorities had decided we were still too young to be told what happened. They left that difficult task to the horrifying sounds and images—towers falling, dust rising, flames and last phone calls—that forever seared the attacks into our collective memory.
What does it mean to honor a man who made his name at the helm of our generation’s greatest human catastrophes? Is it, as Duke political scientist Peter Feaver fawns, to congratulate “one of the most celebrated military leaders of our time,” gifted with “strategic vision”? Who, exactly, amid the slow implosion of Iraq and Afghanistan, the dull hum of cruise missiles lobbed toward nameless villagers across the Global South, the countless dead and dying in a regional, sectarian war arguably fomented by David Petraeus, is celebrating?
The North Carolina General Assembly, firmly in the grip of closet theocrats, libertarian extremists and corrupt corporate shills, is engaged in a full-on attack on our state’s underprivileged communities. In the past few months we have seen young people, women, people of color, the LGBTQ and the poor targeted by punitive legislation that comes from a place of distilled hatred for society’s historically disadvantaged.
Last week marked 10 years since our country brought the long plague of invasion, occupation and mass murder to the Iraqi people. The least they deserve is a moment of reflection.
In the aftermath of another race scandal at Duke, maybe it’s finally time to deal with that shining monument to racism still standing on our campus. Most students are familiar with the dorm on East Campus named after Charles B. Aycock, a legendary racist infamous for saying things like: “We must disfranchise the negro. ... To do so is both desirable and necessary—desirable because it sets the white man free to move along faster than he can go when retarded by the slower movement of the negro.”
Through the public flogging of Kappa Sigma, Duke has congratulated itself for its progressivism, yet on precisely the issues of systemic racial injustice so routinely raised in the scandal’s aftermath, our campus remains devastatingly silent.
A team of researchers at a Swiss university confirmed what much of regular society has long suspected: bankers’ behavior is more reckless and manipulative than that of psychopaths.
