Shock, prayers, and help poured out online last week in the wake of the shooting and death of Memphis rapper Young Dolph while shopping at Makeda’s Homemade Butter Cookies.
As his identity was confirmed by police, memorials (like the one above from the City of Memphis) appeared on social media. The next wave of posts offered support for Makeda’s, which was boarded up after police left the scene. A GoFundMe page was established, and restaurateur Kelly English donated portions of sales to help.
Did you feel that?
Posted to Facebook by Drake Memphis
Tremors from a Missouri earthquake were felt in Memphis Wednesday evening, prompting many to ask online, “Did you feel that?”
Walkin’ in Staten
Posted to YouTube by Saturday Night Live
Staten Island got the “Walkin’ in Memphis” treatment in an SNL video from Pete Davidson, featuring songwriter Marc Cohn. Instead of catfish on the table and gospel in the air, Davidson claims his hometown has bagels, pills, and wild turkeys by the hospital.
One trend evident at this year’s Indie Memphis was a move toward “slow cinema.” Films like Drive My Car, Memoria, and I Was a Simple Man all take their time getting where they’re going, sacrificing plot momentum for long moments of contemplative imagery.
Memphis filmmaker Joshua Cannon, who won the Hometowner Music Video Audience Award for his video with Don Lifted, is a fan of the low and slow. We recently sat down to take slow cinema to the extreme with director Godfrey Reggio’s 1982 experimental masterpiece, Koyaanisqatsi.
Chris McCoy: Okay, Joshua Cannon, what do you know about Koyaanisqatsi?
Joshua Cannon: I only know one thing. I was really curious to see what the title translated to, but I didn’t want to know anything about what I was getting into. I wanted to have a blind experience. So I just looked up the title translation and saw a few things. I’m going to butcher this, but it translated to something like “a life that spurs a new way of living out of the life that we’re currently in.” And that got me fascinated.
CM: It literally translates as “A life out of balance.” We were talking at Indie Memphis about slow cinema, and you talked about loving Terrence Malick, and wanting to do something long and immersive.
JC: Maybe it was over the pandemic, because prior to that, I felt like my life was just moving at such a fast pace. I was just like many of us, constantly going, and then something unexpectedly came up. Once I had more time on my hands just to take things, and to dive into movies as a way to just not confront everything going on, I stumbled into a lot of slow cinema. Tsai Ming-liang’s Rebels of a Neon God and those films. I fell in love with that kind of movie-making. I think it just reflected where I was. There’s something about a lot of dialogue-less moments bumped against each other, and it becomes such an individualistic thing, I guess. Every time I have a conversation with friends about a movie, we just get totally different experiences out of it. Tsai Ming-liang’s newest movie, Days, was wild. It’s got long takes, unbroken. And you start from watching a movie to experiencing what you’re watching, and it changes. You just sit with this unbroken thing. I just got fascinated by it and kept diving down that wormhole.
CM: I said, “You should watch Koyaanisqatsi.” And you were like, “What the hell is that?” I was like, “Okay, this is perfect.” Because the first time I watched this movie was in a film class with a teacher who told us nothing. Nobody in class knew what we were going to do. He was just like, “Here it is!” I wanted you to have the same experience.
86 minutes later …
CM: You are now a person who has seen Koyaanisqatsi. What did you think?
JC: Thank you for sharing that with me. That was pretty great. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it, but it didn’t feel like it’s the type of movie that you can quantify as like, oh, that was a great movie. It’s hard to have an opinion about that movie, because it’s such a singular experience.
CM: There’s no dialogue until the closing credits. There’s no human voices except singing. It’s all pure montage. It was Godfrey Reggio and the cinematographer [Ron Fricke], and four credited camera assistants. There were more people credited as Hopi prophecy consultants than there were on the camera crew. They were just traveling all over the world, filming stuff, and they had an environmental vision. Eventually, they got some money from Francis Ford Coppola and what was left of American Zoetrope. There had never been anything like it. Nobody had ever done 70 millimeter time-lapse outdoors like that before. You see the visual children of Koyannisqatsi everywhere now.
A time lapse shot of Los Angeles inKoyaanisqatsi.
JC: It’s just insane to imagine what it would have been like having that experience as someone in a theater for the first time when it came out. I feel like not knowing what it was really added to the experience. I thought it would be grounded in something environmental, but I fully walked into your house expecting to see a film that was more straightforward. I didn’t expect to not hear a human speak for 90 minutes.
CM: It felt very quick to me this time. I was just engrossed in the images. You said something while we were watching it, like about halfway through, things just become very abstracted.
JC: It becomes full texture in a way. What was so wonderful about seeing it for the first time is at first, you’re not really sure if it’s just like an introduction. You don’t really know what’s going on. And then as it keeps folding into itself …
CM: You’re like, “This intro’s been going on for 30 minutes now.”
JC: Where are you taking me? But then, once you give yourself over to it and stop trying to piece anything together, it becomes a very pure experience. The images that they choose to juxtapose against one another start just kind of like folding in on top of one another, and it gets inside of you, in a way. It gets under the hood.
CM: It’s described as non-narrative, but I feel like there’s a narrative, there’s a story. Here’s the natural world. Here’s the coming of humans, disrupting the natural world, the break from nature. Here is this society that we’ve built. Especially in the city parts, there’s a very documentary-like aspect to it. This is what the world looks like right now. And then, it’s a warning: We can’t keep this up.
JC: It’s an artifact now, watching that with all that we’re currently experiencing and all.
CM: Reggio was right. It was perfect. It was prophetic. Yes, it’s based around a Hopi prophecy — and it actually was prophetic.
JC: Because there’s no dialogue, there’s no one guiding you forward with this, you’re experiencing images against the score. Even though there’s kind of like a universal message that we can get from it. Everyone comes away with a really unique experience. We subscribe what we already think about the image that we’re seeing on to them. So our perspective really shapes how we sit with this movie.
CM: Yeah. It’s not demanding of you. I think that helps you sort of step back. So when you get to the end, his conclusions seem natural, like you’ve figured them out for yourself, because it allows you to step back from life, and to get some kind of perspective on it.
JC: It’s like a meditation.
CM: Yes! It’s a meditation! But if you sort of give yourself over to it, he induces awe about the world — the natural world, the built world, all of it. By the time we’re in the Oscar Meyer making hot dogs, you’re like, “look at this, it’s awesome!”
JC: We start with these beautiful vistas of the natural world …
CM: Monument Valley never looked better.
JC: Places that are just absolutely stunning. And then we hard cut into this giant truck.
CM: It’s belching this big cloud of black smoke, and you’re like “Oh, this is not good.”
JC: We just keep taking it for granted. We keep building more and more and then knocking things down. You see like the windows broken out. You see the way that we don’t know when we’ve had enough. We just keep going and keep going and keep going. Look at the other side of humanity’s crazy innovations through the 20th century. They made decisions that had long-term ramifications. When you see all those cars, you’re like, we’re paying the price for all that innovation.
CM: There’s that shot where the lines of cars are wheeling around in the frame, then it cuts to lines of tanks. When the atomic test footage came along, I heard you say “wow” out loud.
JC: I had a lot of visceral reactions in a way that I haven’t had when seeing a movie in quite a moment. When you see that bomb, if you’re just looking at shapes on the screen against the music, it’s kind of beautiful, as awful as that is to say. Then you realize the context of what you’re looking at. It’s absolutely heartbreaking — like, the world doesn’t go back from here.
CM: Even when it’s planes dropping napalm, I’m looking at it, thinking, “This footage is gorgeous.” Like you were saying, it’s an emotional ping pong, going back and forth between. “Wow, this is beautiful,” and “Oh my God, that’s an atomic bomb.”
JC: It feels like the director is allowing you to sit with it and come to your own determinations and emotional experiences.
CM: What’s your emotional experience?
JC: Maybe it is my bias, but I think it leans toward saying: Look at what’s going on, the evolution of it all, how long you’ve been here, and see we’re not doing something right. You can judge all that for yourself. We’re not going to lead you to a conclusion, you know? There’s so many beautiful moments in it, but toward the end where there was that shot … I didn’t even know what was going on for a moment, where all those people are in a room and they overlay time lapse, and they look like ghosts.
CM: It’s in the New York Stock Exchange. I think it was multiple exposures of the same film, done live. Everything that was stationary was sharp and everything was moving around were like ghosts. There were a number of layers, and it looked like one layer, they ran the film backwards. because there were ghost people walking backwards. I’ll bet you it was done in-camera.
JC: That’s so tricky, so amazing they pulled that off. It looks beautiful. You get to that point where we’re almost kind of at the crescendo, and everything’s building. You see the impermanence of everything up to this point. We were here, and as soon as we built it, it’s gone. But the land is still gonna be here.
CM: It’s cyclical. The petroglyphs at the beginning, the cave art, are echoed first in the power transmission towers. Then they’re mirrored again in the skyscraper imagery. And then it comes back at the end and you’re like, “Oh man, we’ve been looking at the same visual motif over and over again.”
JC: It was pretty brilliant how they brought it all back together at the end. I love what you said about those towers, that they are marching across the landscape like soldiers.
CM: And it’s such a simple shot, it’s just a slow pan down the power lines.
JC: That’s so much of what I love about the way that they chose to shoot it. We have a lot of really simple moments that are capturing impossibly vast things that overwhelm you. But it’s not flashy. A lot of it is just finding the best moment to highlight.
CM: Like the airport, with that single shot where the planes are going in and out and coming straight at the camera.
JC: I’d like to know how long that took.
[ed note: According to Wikipedia, cinematographer Fricke and a camera assistant filmed at the airport for two weeks. The 2 minute 30 second scene of airplanes taxiing is the longest unbroken shot in the film.]
CM: So, would you recommend Koyaanisqatsi?
JC: Definitely. Sam Leathers, if you read this far, I really hope you’ll watch this movie. It wasn’t a refreshing movie. It’s a really heavy movie, in a sense. But it was refreshing to see a movie like that, because I hadn’t really ever experienced anything like that before. You couldn’t have told me beforehand what it is, even if you’ve seen this or that scene, there’s nothing like watching it all together.
CM: I think about the Ed Wood quote, “I can make an entire movie out of stock footage!”
JC: You know, it takes a certain kind of dude to go, “I don’t know what we’re going to end up with, but the planet is so significant, I want to show how precious this thing we have is, and this is the way I’m going to communicate it.”
CM: I don’t feel like it’s anti-technology, especially because it is such a product of technology. It’s a product of a technological civilization that could make 70 millimeter cameras, giant zoom lenses, and computer-controlled exposures and stuff. It is an artifact of technology itself. It has a skeptical eye towards technology, but I don’t think it’s anti-.
JC: I don’t think it is, either. I think it’s about the agreement we have with the way that we use it. Are doing that appropriately? Are we being responsible with the decisions we’re making, with the abilities we’ve built, what we’re continue to build?
CM: These things we’ve made are beautiful. Even the stuff in the shopping mall is beautiful.
JC: This is another wormhole, but it’s like where we are now, in 2021, we look at the way the Earth is rapidly shifting. We look at the things that are happening now, the weather events we’re having, just like with droughts around the world. I am by no means an expert, but when you look at a film like this, you see how, as much as it’d be great for all of us to be able to make our small changes — there’s things we can do every day that can make a difference to the way we live to help create a more sustainable space. But you look at the corporations and businesses and the people who have engineered the world to exist a certain way, and so, while we can all play our part, there’s really a huge burden on us, the way that our livelihoods exist. And then it’s tough, because you have a lot of working class people who rely on what these corporations have built.
CM: So the corporations can build something else.
JC: It’s a choice. That’s what has to happen.
CM: That’s what’s so frustrating about climate change to me: It boils down to a bunch of old energy executives who can’t figure out how to make money another way. If you’re going to be Mr. Free Market Entrepreneur guy, then go figure out a way to make money where you’re not exploiting and destroying the ecosphere!
JC: There’s only so much that can be accomplished with working class and middle class people, and just people in general. It has to be done at a very large scale.
CM: There has to be systemic change. There’s no way to do it just from consumer choice. There has to be full-on, systemic change, and I’m not feeling real good about that right now.
JC: I would keep thinking about the title refrain, how it would come up every so often. Once you get to the end and read the translations from the Hopi, it’s a reminder that’s letting you know: Take this to heart. This is what’s unfolding. It doesn’t have to be this way, but there might not be any turning back if you don’t make a difference now.
DJ Squeeky and Young Dolph (Photo courtesy DJ Squeeky)
“That’s the day my life and his life changed forever,” says DJ Squeeky on looking at the photo above. It was taken when “100 Shots,” the track he produced for fellow Memphian Young Dolph, went gold. “It took everybody to new heights. It showed everybody that you can do it as an independent. People didn’t believe that you could do that.”
DJ Squeeky is speaking with me about the murder of Young Dolph, aka Adolph Robert Thornton Jr., age 36, last Wednesday while he was visiting Makeda’s Cookies. Like Drake, Megan Thee Stallion, Gucci Mane, Rick Ross, Quavo, and others, the city of Memphis is still trying to process the sudden loss of a hometown hero.
“It’s heartbreaking,” says DJ Squeeky, aka Hayward Ivy. “It shouldn’t be like that. I promise you, it shouldn’t be like that. As humans, we’ve gotta fight back against the devil, cause the devil’s got his hands in everything right now. He’s passing out these guns to all the young folks. He’s got their minds different.”
Like so many Memphians, the producer relies on his faith when confronting such loss. He still has deep roots in the church he grew up attending, First Baptist on Beale. Indeed, that’s where he learned to play drums. “My mama still goes there every Sunday,” he says. “I still go there from time to time. And I know Dolph’s family was affiliated with a church.”
It may sound incongruous in the context of the harsh world evoked by trap music. But DJ Squeeky knew Dolph the man, not just the icon, and he’s quick to point out the principles behind Dolph’s artistry. “Look at it this way: Dolph didn’t even have guns and violence in his music. He didn’t pay any attention to that. He wasn’t talking about killing anyone in his songs. That’s the thing nobody paid any attention to. He didn’t kill anybody in his songs.”
Indeed, Doph’s attitude conveyed nothing so much as the triumph of the wit. As Harold Bingo, writing in Complex, puts it, “The Memphis rapper’s braggadocio was underscored by a gift for introspection and a willingness to make sure that everyone went along for the ride with him. Fans who heard his booming bravado and hilarious deadpan punchlines got to feel like they were riding shotgun through South Memphis in his fleet of luxury cars.”
And though tracks like “100 Shots” evoked a world of violence, and his survival against all odds, Dolph’s actions in life belied a generous, compassionate soul who was committed to staying true to his roots. “He ought to be remembered as a person who looked out for his family, who was kindhearted, who was a giving person,” says DJ Squeeky.
And he would know, having worked with Dolph arguably longer than any other producer. “I’ve been knowing him since the beginning. Since 2008 or 2009,” he says. “All the time I was with him, I didn’t know him to do anything — I never saw him do wrong. Or even heard about him doing wrong.”
Instead, the rapper was committed to doing right. Reflecting on Dolph’s famous acts of charity, such as donating to his former high school, or handing out Thanksgiving turkeys, DJ Squeeky notes, “You know, if you’ve been broke all your life, that’s what you want to do. You know how it feels to have nothing. Literally nothing. So you want to give back. That’s what I do. You just want to help people. And he walked the walk, he talked the talk. That’s why I believed in him, man. I believed in everything he did. Nobody told him to do it. He did it out of the kindness of his heart.”
With tragic irony, Dolph was scheduled to hand out this year’s batch of turkeys, typically running in the hundreds, on the very day he was killed. “He had a good, kind heart,” says DJ Squeeky. “People don’t like that. They don’t like it if you’ve got a good kind heart. They want the devil to win. They want everybody to be evil. It’s just crazy. Someone just didn’t like the man. I’m just hoping they bring in whoever did it. They’ll go on and get them on in there and let the process begin. Everybody needs that. It ain’t gonna be right until then. That ain’t gonna bring him back, but you can’t let it be senseless.”
Like many Memphians, DJ Squeeky is leaning on his faith heavily now, and reflecting on the family values that Dolph himself embodied in the way he lived. “Your mom’s teaching is the key,” he explains. “Moms and dads have already faced it. They’ve already lived their lives, they already know how it’s supposed to go. They can’t do anything but tell their children to be safe out here. Stay away from certain people that don’t mean you no good. Sometimes your parents can peep out the people that’s good and bad in your life, even though you accept them for who they are. ‘Your friend ain’t right.’”
Beyond that, DJ Squeeky blames the prevalence of guns as the core problem. “One thing’s for sure: We didn’t bring those guns over here. We had no access to all the new kinds of guns on the streets right now. You’ve got to think about it: 10, 15 years ago, there was no such thing as these guns that are on the street right now. It’s a whole new thing going on right now. Everything’s different. That’s what people have got to look at, more than anything: How did we gain access to them? We never had these guns before. So that tells you one thing: It’s about the money.
“They’re trying to turn us into something like what they’ve got going on overseas. America’s got to be strong, and not be dumb like that. They’re trying to force us into a situation. But not everybody wants to live like Rambo. Killing people at the age of 13, 14 years old.”
In contrast, DJ Squeeky sees Dolph as presenting an alternative way of life, breaking free of such social trends. As Squeeky sees it, it all grew out of Dolph’s faith in his own vision. “He was definitely one of a kind. There ain’t gonna be no more like him. Dolph was something different. He was the definition of independence. When they need an example of independence, just put his face right there. That’s what it looks like when you do your own thing.”
Is Saturday’s regular season finale against Tulane a must-win for Memphis coach Ryan Silverfield? In a word, absolutely.
On the somewhat weighted scale of recent Tiger football history, the 2021 season has been a big disappointment. After a 3-0 start that included a win over Mississippi State from the mighty SEC, the Tigers have lost six of eight games, three of them after leading in the second half (two of them in the fourth quarter). Memphis is no longer unbeatable in the Liberty Bowl (they lost to UTSA and East Carolina), they will have a losing record in American Athletic Conference play regardless of what happens against the Green Wave (0-4 on the road against AAC rivals), and perhaps worst of all, will leave the lightest offensive footprint since the program’s last losing season of 2013. A program that averaged 40 points per game as recently as 2019 — Mike Norvell’s last as head coach — enters the Tulane game with an average of 29.8 (56th in the country).
The Tigers must beat the 2-9 Green Wave. (Tulane ended an eight-game losing streak last Saturday by destroying USF, 45-14.) A win would at least gain bowl eligibility for Memphis and extend the program’s streak for postseason appearances to eight years. It would allow the chance for the Tigers to finish with a winning record, though 7-6 hardly has the shine of last year’s 8-3 mark or, gulp, the historic 12-2 standard of 2019.
A loss to Tulane wouldn’t necessarily mean Silverfield is out as head coach. That would be harsh, considering the man has spent his first two seasons in charge of a program under pandemic conditions, with a few significant departures (read: Kenneth Gainwell). But a loss to Tulane would mean the Tigers are, yes, rebuilding . . . . the most dreaded word in college football. And I’m not convinced a local fan base with memories of Anthony Miller and Darrell Henderson gaining All-America status on their way to the NFL will tolerate leadership without a track record for winning, and winning big. Would a 7-5 season next year be “progress”? Would 6-6 be “keeping the program afloat”? Anxious times, these, for University of Memphis football. And especially for its second-year head coach.
• Senior linebacker J.J. Russell has a very good case for the AAC’s Defensive Player of the Year. With one regular-season game to play, Russell leads the conference with 72 solo tackles. Only one other AAC player has as many as 60 solo stops, and that’s Russell’s teammate, Tiger safety Quindell Johnson. As for total tackles, Russell’s 113 are 18 more than any other player in the AAC (Johnson is second) and 24 more than any player not suiting up for Memphis. Only one Tiger has earned the Defensive POY honor since the AAC began play in 2013, and that was linebacker Tank Jakes, who shared the hardware with UCF’s Jacoby Glenn seven years ago.
• The pandemic has redefined what it means to be a “senior” in big-time college sports, but 17 Tigers we be saluted before the Tulane game, the program’s annual Senior Day. (Some retain eligibility and could return in 2022.) In addition to Russell and Johnson, Calvin Austin III will be honored, having put up consecutive 1,000-yard seasons after initially walking on. Sean Dykes has actually caught passes in six seasons and will leave the program with the most career receptions and yardage by a Tiger tight end. Guard Dylan Parham should make his 51st career start for Memphis (second most in program history). Jacobi Francis, Xavier Cullens, Tyrez Lindsey, Keith Brown Jr., Rodney Owens, Thomas Pickens and John Tate IV have all played significant roles on the Tiger defense this season. Among players from the offensive side of the ball, Cameron Fleming, Kylan Watkins, and Jeremiah Oatsvall will be honored. Special teamers Preston Brady and Treysen Neal will complete the Tiger football Class of ’21.
Memphis City Council member Edmund Ford Sr. said he did not understand gender identification in a statement issued late Friday meant to ease the bellicose insults and threats he issued at citizens during a meeting last week.
Ford berated Alex Hensley, an aide to Shelby County Mayor Lee Harris, and George Boyington, who leads intergovernmental relations and special projects for Shelby County Assessor of Property Melvin Burgess.
Hensley listed “she/they” in her signature on a letter given to council members about an ordinance before them. In referencing the letter, Ford called the pronouns “so irrelevant” before sarcastically asking Hensley, “Who is she and they?” Hensley said, “Me … that’s a letter from me.” Ford did not continue the conversation.
Later in the meeting, Boyington came to Hensley’s defense. Ford invited him to speak only to “blow you out of the water back across the street” to the county adminstration building. Boyington called Ford’s behavior “unprofessional.”
The Shelby County Committee of the Tennessee Equality Project (TEP), said Ford’s actions were “bullying, trolling, and abusive” and called for action by other council members.
For his gender comments, Ford said the use of them on the letter was unfamiliar and the meant “no disrespect” to Hensley. However, it was clear the topic was not new to him as he accused Boyington Tuesday of wishing to speak about what Ford called “gender mess.”
As for his many other insults and threats, Ford said he’d only keep in mind suggestions to temper his remarks.
Here’s his statement in full:
“As the representative of District 6, I am well-known as a passionate advocate for my community. Admittedly, my passion, especially in my support or defense of my position, can sometimes be a bit too forceful. It has been suggested to me that my position on matters might be better received if my remarks were more tempered. I will keep this in mind in the future.
“It is with this understanding that in addressing the staffers, I could have been less harsh in my delivery and tone. Unfortunately, the Shelby County staffer presenting on the Unified Development Code ordinance received the brunt of my frustrations.
“In seeking clarification on who exactly authored the letter that was presented to the Council by the County, I asked the representative who was ‘she/they’ in the signature line. The term ‘they’ suggested to me that there was perhaps an additional author of the letter.
“Once the Shelby County representative clarified that she was both ‘she’ and ‘they,’ I supported her answer and right to specify her gender and pronouns without further inquiry.
“My time on the council has meant that I have gained knowledge and understanding on a variety of unfamiliar topics. The use of gender pronouns in the letter was unfamiliar to me so I had a lack of knowledge of this practice when I made the query. My asking about the use of ‘she/they’ had nothing to do with gender identity, because I had no familiarity with this as a means of self-identification.
“I now know about this practice and hope people understand that no disrespect toward the Shelby County representative’s gender identity was meant by my question.”
Parks David and Taylor Wiliams in "Chocolate Galaxy."
The Hometowner Narrative Shorts competition at Indie Memphis 2021 was one of the most competitive categories in the film festival’s 24-year history. One of the most impressive entries was “Chocolate Galaxy,” an Afrofuturist hip hop opera written by Parks David and Ryan Peel, and directed by Blake Heimbach.
David plays “intergalactic man of mystery” Fuzzy Slippers, who drops in to Sector 9, a spaceport built on the ruins of old Memphis, to attend the Galaxy Ball, the cosmos’ flyest party. There he meets his old friend Melanon (Peel) who plays in the band for space funkster Slick James (also David) and, most promisingly of all, a mysterious woman named The Goddess (Taylor Williams). The film is a tour de force of DIY production design and special effects; one of the most visually creative Memphis films in recent memory. It also helps that the songs by David and Peel are absolute bangers.
Now, the Sector 9 team that produced “Chocolate Galaxy” is rolling it out as a four-part serial, beginning today with part one, which introduces you to the setting and characters with sweet neo-soul grooves. They’ll be featuring new installments over the next month at the Chocolate Galaxy website, and it’s well worth your time to keep up with each new installment.
Strap in: We’re blasting off to Sector 9!
If you would like to see your music video featured on Music Video Monday, email cmccoy@memphisflyer.com.
Tennessee won a 16-year legal battle over water rights in the U.S. Supreme Court Monday.
Lawyers for the state of Mississippi have argued for more than a decade that Tennessee is stealing its water from the Middle Claiborne Aquifer, an expansion of underground water that flows beneath eight states. Oral arguments in the case went before the Supreme Court in early October. Mississippi sought $615 million in damages.
Justices were unanimous in their verdict issued Monday morning. “Mississippi’s complaint is dismissed without leave to amend,” reads the opinion, which means officials there cannot change their argument and bring the issue back to court. Should lawyers bring the case back to the court, they’ll have to file a new case.
In its latest argument, Mississippi lawyers told justices that water pumping in Tennessee sucks up water from Mississippi under the state line. Mississippi claimed an absolute ownership right to all groundwater beneath its surface — even after that water has crossed its borders. Lawyers claimed Tennessee’s wells violated Mississippi’s sovereign ownership rights to the water.
Justices agreed that pumping in Tennessee “clearly” has effects on water levels in Mississippi. Memphis Light, Gas & Water pumps about 120 million gallons from the aquifer each day from more than 160 wells in and around Memphis, according to the court.
“Tennessee’s pumping has contributed to a cone of depression that extends miles into northern Mississippi, and Mississippi itself contends that this cone of depression has reduced groundwater storage and pressure in northern Mississippi,” reads the opinion.
However, instances like these are a “hallmark,” justices said, of similar cases remedied by equitable apportionment, meaning the states have to share the water equally. Though, the Mississippi case is the first time equitable apportionment laws would be applied to aquifers.
But Justice John Roberts, writing for the court, said the rule should not be different for aquifers and when water is shared between two states, “each one has an interest which should be respected by the other.”
“Mississippi suggests the Middle Claiborne Aquifer is distinguishable from interstate rivers and streams because its natural flow is ‘extremely slow,’” reads the opinion by Chief Justice John Roberts, writing for the court. “But we have long applied equitable apportionment even to streams that run dry from time to time.
“And although the transboundary flow here may be a mere ‘one or two inches per day,’ that amounts to over 35 million gallons of water per day, and over 10,000,000,000 gallons per year. So, the speed of the flow, at least in the context of this case, does not place the aquifer beyond equitable apportionment.”
If Mississippi returned the case to the court, it would be to ask for terms of equitable apportionment and “must prove by clear and convincing evidence some real and substantial injury for damage.”
The "Peanuts" sign on the front of The Peanut Shoppe (Credit: Rida AbuZaineh)
The giant “Peanuts” sign on the front of the building that houses The Peanut Shoppe is still for sale.
As far as he knows, the sign will not move when The Peanut Shoppe moves early next year from 24 South Main Street to its new location at 121 South Main Street, says co-owner Rida AbuZaineh. His last day at the old location will be December 24th. He hopes to be in the new shop in January.
He’s had offers for the sign, but, AbuZaineh says, “I don’t think anybody is serious about it.”
They’re curious, he says, and they will ask, “How much do you want for it?”
But, AbuZaineh says, “They did not get back. I never gave them a price. I said I’ll work with them.”
He doesn’t want the iconic sign to end up in a scrapyard.
The sign, which spans two stories on the front of the building, is “really valuable. It used to belong to a Planters factory. I believe so. Somewhere in Michigan. They had branches in different areas of the country.”
They originally got two signs, had them restored, and combined them into one sign in the ’90s, AbuZaineh says.
The sign is made of thin metal with plastic trimming and colorful lights. The letters are in blue and the background is white. The major frame is yellow with yellow flickering lights, which go in sequence. The sign is not neon; the letters are lit underneath.
The Peanut Shoppe opened in 1948. AbuZaineh heard it originally opened on Madison before moving to Main Street in 1951, but he’s not sure. The AbuZaineh and Lauck families became owners and partners of the establishment on January 8th, 1993.
AbuZaineh says they weren’t told until a few months before the sale that the building where his shop is now located was going to be sold. It will be turned into apartments and condos, he says.
“We shall be operating and serving you through Christmas Eve,” AbuZaineh says. “Come on down and walk through memory lane. It is an end of an era for this historical location.”
And, he says, “I have never missed a Christmas Eve in the 29 years I have been here. That is the truth. God is my witness.”
Young Dolph and his aunt, Rita Myers in 2019 (Credit: Michael Donahue)
As Thanksgiving week begins, I’m thinking about Young Dolph and how he made the holiday special for so many people.
The internationally-known rapper (Adolph Robert Thornton Jr.) was killed November 17th, shot by two assailants in Makeda’s Homemade Butter Cookies on Airways Boulevard.
I met Young Dolph on November 20, 2019. My friend, who goes by “Jake,” invited me to meet the singer at Pine Hill Community Center. He said Young Dolph would be giving away turkeys and coats.
My memory of Young Dolph is of a quiet man with a calm, pleasant smile, who greeted everybody who came up to him and graciously posed for photos with them.
That was the seventh event where Young Dolph gave away turkeys, but it was the first one organized under the Ida Mae Family Foundation, Young Dolph’s aunt Rita Myers told me that day. Myers told me she was board chairperson of the foundation, which was founded in 2019. She said it was named after the late Ida Mae Thornton, Young Dolph’s grandmother.
“What we do is address the needs of the residents of Castalia Heights and the surrounding areas,” Myers told me. “My mother was very proud of her home and the community of Castalia Heights. Young Dolph has always given back to the community. Around Thanksgiving time he always gives turkeys to residents in the community. And during Christmas he always gives tennis shoes and coats to the community.”
She told me the Ida Mae Foundation was a way to honor her mother. “His grandmother was proud of him and raised him. Even in his songs, he talks a lot about his grandmother. We wanted to do something in her honor.”
That was the first year rapper Key Glock participated in the event. “He’s from Pine Hill, so that’s the reason we went to Pine Hill,” Myers said. “That’s the community he’s from. And he was giving away the coats.”
As I recall, Young Dolph didn’t leave the room until everybody who wanted their photo taken with him got their wish.
A total of 275 turkeys and 265 coats were given away that day, Myers told me.
I was looking forward to covering the event again this year. I heard someone say Young Dolph was on his way to pick up the turkeys the day he was killed. I don’t know if that’s true.
Hearts are sad right now. But one consolation is knowing that not only did he leave many songs in people’s hearts, but Young Dolph also gave a happy Thanksgiving to many people, who wouldn’t have had one.
Young Dolph and Michael Donahue in 2019.Key Glock and Jake in 2019. 2019 event poster for coat and turkey giveaway. (Credit: Michael Donahue)We Saw You
McKenna Grace as Phoebe, with Logan Kim as Podcast, in Ghostbusters: Afterlife
Ghostbusters is a prime example of lightning in a bottle. There are some things that are just unique products of the time and place where they were created. They defy formula. Even if you put the same team back together and gave them all the tools and time they needed, they couldn’t replicate their success.
The 1984 Ghostbusters was the product of the fevered mind of Dan Aykroyd. The story of a trio of misfit scientists who travel through time and space to battle supernatural threats was meant as a follow-up to his and John Belushi’s mega-hit The Blues Brothers, with the third part to be played by Eddie Murphy. After Belushi died in 1982, Murphy got his own franchise with Beverly Hills Cop, and Aykroyd retreated into a fallout shelter on Martha’s Vineyard with Harold Ramis to retool the script for Bill Murray and director Ivan Reitman. The Ghostbusters became supernatural entrepreneurs, more pest control than Doctor Who.
Grace, Kim, and Finn Wolfhard cruisin’ in the Ectomobile.
Genre-wise, the fantasy action comedy had very little precedent. Reitman got the tone exactly right. It was the post-Star Wars sci-fi boom, so there was an ample budget for special effects. Aykroyd was still at the top of his game, Ramis played Spock-but-funny, Ernie Hudson was the relatable everyman, Sigourney Weaver was sexy as hell, and Murray delivered one of the greatest comedy performances of all time. Propelled by a theme song by former Stevie Wonder sideman Ray Parker Jr. that became an unlikely No. 1 hit, Ghostbusters became the most profitable comedy of all time.
When the principals got back together five years later for Ghostbusters II, it wasn’t the same. The film has its moments, but the elements never gel the way they did the first time out. For years, Aykroyd worked on a third installment, called Hellbent, but Murray saw the writing on the wall and once Ramis died in 2014, that seemed to be the end of it.
But Ghostbusters is all about coming back from the dead, so in 2016, a gender-swapped version was produced with Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Leslie Jones, and Kate McKinnon. It, too, had its moments, but lacked that certain magic, and was the subject of a sexist social media backlash. Which might be why Ghostbusters: Afterlife exists.
At least it’s better than The Rise of Skywalker, the other film that was produced as a response to closed-minded people freaking out over changes to their favorite ’80s film franchise. Produced by Ivan Reitman and directed by his son Jason Reitman, Afterlife moves the action from New York City to rural Oklahoma. Callie (Carrie Coon) gets evicted from her New York apartment with her two children, Trevor (Finn Wolfhard), and Phoebe (Mckenna Grace), only to find out that her estranged father has died and left them a spooky old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. While Callie tries to deal with her late father’s estate, Trevor tries to fit in with the local teens — especially cool girl Lucky (Celeste O’Connor). Phoebe, a budding science geek who is too smart for her own good, is drawn into investigating unexplained earthquake swarms with her summer school teacher Gary (Paul Rudd). This part of the film is a solid kids-solving-mysteries story, like Goonies, but less annoying.
As the story threads come together, Phoebe and Trevor learn that their grandfather, whom they never met, was Egon Spengler, a member of the Ghostbusters who cleaned up the Manhattan ghost flap of 1984. Naturally, the reason he moved to central Oklahoma was ghost-related, and now his grandkids must clean up the mess he left behind or, you know … human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria!
It’s weird to say, but it’s the familiar elements that derail Afterlife. Just when things get cooking with the new kids, we have to pause to re-introduce the Ectomobile. When the surviving old guys show up to help save the day, it seems perfunctory. Even the glorious moment when Bill Murray is doing Peter Venkman again undercuts the “action” part of “action comedy.”
You can’t catch lightning in a bottle a second time. But I’m willing to give Ghostbusters: Afterlife the benefit of the doubt for two reasons: one, the screenplay mostly works, with the story flowing from the internal logic Aykroyd set up in 1984, even though it’s not nearly as funny. And two, Mckenna Grace gives an absolutely crackerjack performance. Mark my words, she’s a movie star in waiting.
