Decarcerate Memphis has released a statement claiming that they are not responsible for the “vandalization” of mayoral candidate Sheriff Floyd Bonner’’s campaign headquarters.”
“Decarcerate Memphis is not responsible for the action that took place Sunday evening at Sheriff Bonner’s campaign headquarters,” said the group in a statement.
According to its website, Decarcerate Memphis is an organization that exists to “apply common sense strategies and a community-oriented approach to the problematic system of policing. We do this by demanding funds are equitably allocated and resisting the criminalization of the poor.” The group comprises community leaders, activists, attorneys, strategists, and clergy.
The organization shared a video to its social media pages showing protesters and organizers defacing Bonner’s campaign headquarters with the caption “#bodybagBonner is on the lam. He’s bad for 201 and bad for the 901.”
While the organization shared the video, the statement added that “[our members] are a part of a broad coalition and shared the video to stand in solidarity with those who performed the action.”
In a post, which has since been deleted, KWAM news anchor Ben Deeter shared a statement from Bonner, in which he named Decarcerate Memphis in association with the vandalization of his headquarters.
“Last night a group of radical activists who support my opponent vandalized our headquarters and are burning our yards. The group ‘decarcerate Memphis’ wants to defund the police and free dangerous prisoners from jail and we can’t let them win,” the statement read.
The group responded to this claim on social media, saying that Bonner had made “false criminal accusations of ‘vandalism.’
“Sheriff Bonner has accused Decarcerate of vandalizing his headquarters when no evidence exists of this. Vandalism is the deliberate destruction of or damage to public or private property, neither of which happened as a result of this action,” the organization said in their statement. They also said that Bonner’s broadcasting of “outright lies” is a “gross misuse of power.”
According to Decarcerate Memphis, they were “targeted” because they are currently seeking “accountability and transparency” from Bonner’s office. They said Bonner has ignored requests to meet with the group.
“He is a danger to the community as a Sheriff and if we do not pass transparency and accountability measures, there will be more cataclysmic outcomes for Black and brown neighbors,” the statement said. “We demand justice and accountability for the 50+ people who have died under his leadership and for Jarveon Hudspeth, who was killed by a Sheriff’s deputy on June 24.”
Prior to these claims, the group has made several public posts demanding answers for “the 50+ people who have died under his [Bonner’s] leadership.”
The Sterilization Services facility on Florida Street. Credit: Google Maps
Sterilization Services of Tennessee (SST) will close its Memphis facility by April 30th, 2024, according to the Southern Environmental Law Center (SELC).
The company uses ethylene oxide (EtO) in its South Memphis facility to sterilize medical equipment. The gas is odorless, colorless, and is a known carcinogen. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) found levels of the chemical around SST were 20 times above standards for acceptable risk.
A class action lawsuit filed earlier this month claims a group of South Memphis residents have suffered cancer, miscarriages, spinal disorders, and more from the toxic emissions.
SELC and Memphis Community Against Pollution (MCAP) said Wednesday the company told U.S. Rep. Steve Cohen (D-Memphis) in a letter that it planned to shutter the facility.
The move comes less than a year after the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) first rung warning bells about the emissions in a public meeting with residents. Since then, the company, its EtO emissions, and its inaction to reduce them have come under increasing public scrutiny and criticism.
The Shelby County Health Department has said the facility is now operating within the law and the agency can’t act against them. New rules on those emissions from the EPA have been promised but could take years to actually reduce them in South Memphis.
KeShaun Pearson, president of MCAP, said the closing is a result of “people power.”
“When we band together, speak truth to power, and fight back against industrial polluters in our communities, justice is realized,” Pearson said in a statement. “But eight months is a long time, and neighborhoods in South Memphis shouldn’t be forced to continue to live with cancer-causing pollution. We urge local leaders to better protect communities near the Sterilization Services of Tennessee plant until its long-overdue closure.”
SELC senior attorney Amanda Garcia urged the company to move more quickly to reduce risk and possible harm.
“Families living near the Sterilization Services of Tennessee plant have been exposed to toxic ethylene oxide pollution for far too long, and we are pleased that they may soon be able to breathe easier,” Garcia said in a statement. “But there is an air pollution emergency right now in South Memphis, and Sterilization Services of Tennessee should close and relocate as quickly as they can.”
Women hold up signs on their phones in silent protest, only to be removed by state troopers during the special session. (Photos: John Partipilo | Tennessee Lookout)
Republicans manhandled democracy last week in Nashville during the special session with tough tactics displayed in plain view.
They flexed their supermajority superpowers over most anyone who didn’t agree with them, especially members of the taxpaying public. The GOP flex (and one unlawful overreach, according to a judge) became the story that emerged from the session that was ostensibly meant to make kids safer at school.
Tennessee Highway Patrol officers made the “manhandle” metaphor real in one of the boldest, coldest demonstrations of Republican power during the entire session. A woman in a committee audience held a sign that read, “One kid is greater than all the guns.” A Republican leader ordered her to put it down. She didn’t. He then ordered large state troopers in the room to remove her, physically if need be. They did.
Two troopers grabbed the woman’s upper arms and lifted her from her seat. They paraded her down the aisle, across the front row in full view of gathered lawmakers. She spoke, her voice initially quivering as they forced her from the room. She then pierced her nerves, found her voice, and yelled, “This is not what democracy looks like!”
Photo: John Partipilo | Tennessee Lookout
Everyone heard. But lawmakers did nothing. They simply waited for troopers to identify and escort yet another sign-holding woman out. The committee’s GOP chairman waited for the doors to close, cleared his throat, and dispassionately continued the work before the committee. He later apologized (to some) on X (formerly Twitter).
The episode was easily the most visible display of what Tennessee democracy looks like under Republican control. But it wasn’t the biggest or even the most important display of the session. Some in the state GOP silenced not only the public, but other lawmakers, even many other Republicans.
Elected officials went to Nashville in earnest, expecting a review and a debate on more than 200 bills they brought. Republicans decided to only allow review and debate on four in the Senate for reasons outsiders could only guess at. GOP House members certainly did not seem to be in on the game.
Some Democrats opined that the entire session was a GOP dance, choreographed over weeks between when the session was promised in April to when it commenced in late August. Their plan, it seemed, was to do as little as possible, complete the mandated terms of the session, and give GOP Governor Bill Lee a few things for which he asked.
Photos: John Partipilo | Tennessee Lookout
The session’s work stopped last week with an intense standoff between House and Senate Republicans over whether or not to allow more bills. That work continued this week with little predictability on an outcome. About the only thing House and Senate Republicans could agree on was no new rules on universal background checks for guns nor any red flag laws.
What did Lee think? It was his party, after all. No one really knew, not during the session anyway. He promised he’d only speak publicly after it wrapped. As of Monday morning, his most recent social media posts concerned the passing of former Tennessee Governor Don Sundquist and attending a ham breakfast at the Tennessee State Fair.
The GOP flex left some wondering if Republicans had jumped the shark, pushed their influence (and general disdain for dissent) too far in front of everyone. Would their callous affronts to public sentiment push new voters to take notice and show up for future election days? In short, would the supermajority’s superpowered flex backfire on them?
Members of the Tennessee Senate have passed only three pieces of legislation, freezing out dozens of ideas of dozens of lawmakers and putting the House and the Senate at an impasse. (Photos: John Partipilo | Tennessee Lookout)
Rules: The First Flex
From the start, Republicans, it seemed, did not want a repeat of April.
In March, three 9-year-old children and three teachers were shot and killed in a pre-planned attack at Nashville’s Covenant School. Many lawmakers routinely offered thoughts and prayers. But thousands of Tennesseans wanted more and descended upon Capitol Hill to urge leaders for some form of gun control.
In the hallowed, marbled lobby between the House and Senate chambers, protestors yelled, “Gun control now!” at lawmakers (protected by a wall of state troopers) and held signs that read, “Am I next?” They protested from the House gallery on March 30th, joined by the now-well-known Tennessee Three, two of whom, of course, were expelled soon after but reinstated by voters later. On April 4th, hundreds of young people shouted, “Fuck Bill Lee!” in unison on the steps of the Tennessee Capitol building.
Soon after that (but probably not because of it), Lee asked legislative members of his own party to pass an extreme order of protection law. It would allow guns to be temporarily removed from those deemed to be a “current and ongoing” threat to themselves or others. The ask came after teacher Cindy Peak and Covenant head of school Katherine Koonce — friends of First Lady Maria Lee — were killed in the school shooting.
The killings and the personal plea from Lee were not enough to sway GOP lawmakers, though. Not a single one of them would pick up Lee’s legislation, and many said so out loud. Instead, leaders sprinted the budget through committees and floor votes and hightailed it out of Nashville.
But Lee promised them a special session on “public safety.” Not wanting a repeat of April (and the raucous protests that came with it), it seemed, House Republicans crafted a plan to clamp down on dissent, public speech, and the public in general, in and around the vaunted statehouse.
Protest signs (and the like) were outlawed (even a standard letter-sized piece of paper with a statement written with a pen). And the public got only limited access to spaces once wide open. On the House floor, if lawmakers got personal in their remarks or strayed off topic, Speaker Cameron Sexton (R-Crossville) could silence them. Do it four times, and a lawmaker would be silenced for the remainder of the session. Who got to call balls and strikes here? Only Sexton.
The decorum rule was seen by many as a way to manage the unruly Justins, Rep. Justin Pearson (D-Memphis) and Rep. Justin Jones (D-Nashville). Their expulsions by Republicans in April backfired on the GOP, made the Justins famous, and poured piles of political capital and campaign donations upon them.
From the floor last Tuesday, Jones asked Sexton if he’d get his committee assignments back. Sexton quickly ruled him out of order. Jones asked why, especially since others had asked off-topic questions, like about the air-conditioning. Sexton didn’t answer but allowed the House clerk to explain that “the House speaker makes rulings on what is in order and not in order.”
These rules were the first big GOP flex of the session. It broadcast their power and dared any to cross them, lest they be diminished or banished. Though many questioned whether the sign rule was constitutional and if the decorum rules silenced the democratic will of lawmakers’ many constituents.
The GOP flexed the decorum rules against dissenters this Monday when the House voted to silence Jones on the floor. Sexton ruled Jones was out of order twice. No similar vote nor silence came for Rep. Gino Bulso (R-Brentwood) after he, too, had been out of order twice. But the clerk said the first instance was only a warning. After Jones was silenced, the gallery erupted in jeers, and the Democratic caucus walked off the House floor in protest.
In an email newsletter, Pearson called the decorum rules “draconian” and said they “were carefully crafted to silence the voices of progress and solidify [the GOP’s] stranglehold on proceedings.” When he told lawmakers that “we are a democracy,” one Republican House member told him, “We are not because we are a republic.” Pearson disagreed with the notion in his newsletter. Then, based on GOP moves, he kind of agreed.
“This is not a democracy,” he wrote. “This is a mobocracy.”
The Clearing
The story above tells of how — thanks to the GOP no-signs rule — state troopers forced that woman from the House committee. It was on the explicit instructions of Rep. Lowell Russell (R-Vonore), a former state trooper. He chaired the House Civil Justice Subcommittee that day and warned the crowd, “If there’s an ongoing problem with these signs, we’ll just clear the room.” He then singled out the sign-carrying women by row and by seat. They were removed. Then, Rep. Antonio Parkinson (D-Memphis) started talking. The crowd started clapping. And Russell proved he was nowhere near finished flexing.
He gave a “last warning” on the applause and threatened again to “clear the room.” A Republican bill was tabled. The audience clapped again and Russell chided, “Now, are we going to quieten down and listen or are we going to sit there and clap?” His stony expression hid his next move. “All right, troopers, let’s go ahead and clear the room.”
They did. They even cleared out parents of Covenant School children. Only members of the media and legislative staff were allowed to stay, though Lowell allowed those slated to testify to return when they were called from the hall. But the ejected crowd was shocked as they milled about, filing out the doors. One woman paused before the committee and said, “This is not who you dreamed about growing up to be when you were children.”
Russell’s clearing — the treatment of taxpayers and Covenant School parents — dominated headlines, not any great Republican ideas on how to keep school kids safe or to protect Second Amendment rights.
U.S. Rep. Steve Cohen (D-Memphis) said the move marked “truly dark days” at the legislature. Rep. Gloria Johnson (D-Knoxville), the un-expelled third of the Tennessee Three, said the move showed that “these Republicans have lost all moral footing.” Sen. Heidi Campbell (D-Nashville) said it was proof “we’re living in a totalitarian state.” Russell said it was largely the audience’s fault, not his, and apologized … kind of.
“If you were in attendance [of the committee] … and were not participating in the loud, disruptive behavior, I personally apologize that you had to watch the committee meeting from the hallway,” Russell said in a six-part X post on Friday. “It was unfortunate that the noise level had gotten to the point that it did.
“Let me be clear that each person in attendance on Tuesday matters and a safer Tennessee matters.”
Others wanted more answers. House Minority Leader Karen Camper (D-Memphis) said, “This needs to be explained.” Rep. Jason Powell (D-Nashville) asked Lee, in an official letter, if House chairs even have the authority — by the state constitution or any state law — to order state troopers to remove members of the public from committee rooms. No response had been given as of press time. Sen. Charlane Oliver (D-Nashville) asked this and more from Tennessee Attorney General Jonathan Skrmetti. He quickly asked the judge in the signs case to dissolve the matter, according to the The Tennessee Journal.
Last Wednesday, Sen. Richard Briggs (R-Knoxville) took a softer approach. He opened the Senate State and Local Government Committee saying, “I know it might not seem like it sometimes … they said to be sure to let folks know we’re glad you’re here.”
As for the signs, they were later allowed, but not until the American Civil Liberties Union of Tennessee (ACLU-TN) got a court involved. The group sued Sexton, the House clerk, and sergeant-at-arms after Lowell’s clearing. Davidson County Chancery Court Judge Anne Martin issued a restraining order last Wednesday banning the House’s ban on signs.
“It is troubling how often the citizens of our state have to return to the courthouse just to protect their basic constitutional rights from being violated by this GOP supermajority,” House Democratic Caucus Chairman John Ray Clemmons (D-Nashville) said at the time. “My colleagues, who are so afraid of a piece of paper silently stating an opinion that they would forcibly remove them from a committee room, have yet again embarrassed our great state and disrespected its citizens in doing so.”
Sexton’s attorneys argued the court overstepped, according to Tennessee Lookout, and urged an emergency hearing on the matter. A hearing was slated for Monday.
The Senate’s Great Big Table
Silencing lawmakers’ remarks. Shutting out the public to the “People’s House.” Forcibly removing dissenters from public places for breaking some brand-new rule that may or may not be legal. They offended certain sensitivities and, again, broadcast party control.
But the Republicans’ next big move had a material impact on the subject and scope of the real business at hand. With it, the Senate froze the session in its tracks, freezing out dozens of ideas of dozens of lawmakers, shocking House Republicans, and making moot most of the work House members had done and would continue to do during the session.
Last Tuesday morning, the Senate Judiciary Committee passed three bills, ones brought by Lee. Then, without comment or explanation, committee chair Sen. Todd Gardenhire (R-Chattanooga) tabled 52 bills, the remainder of the committee’s agenda.
This meant every other idea proposed by every other legislator with a bill on the docket that day would never get heard, nor an up or down vote in the special session. House Republicans were not happy.
“Congratulations @tnsenategop on receiving the 2023 Ostrich Egg!” read an X post from the Tennessee House Republicans. “It must be eggshausting sending so many bills to [the general subcommittee, meaning no action taken during committee] instead of doing the work people sent us here to do.”
Some mumbled frustration. Some scratched their heads. The next day, Gardenhire did it again. Less than a minute into the Senate Education Committee, he tabled 21 bills from Democrats and Republicans alike.
At that moment, it was clear the Senate — and by and large the legislature — would only consider three bills for the whole special session. The same happened in other Senate committees. For some, it seemed the Republican playbook was revealed.
“Now the House GOP is trying to blame Senate GOP for how this special session is playing out?” posted Clemmons. “Do they honestly think Tennesseans fail to realize that this whole taxpayer-funded charade of nothingness and harm was jointly (albeit clumsily) scripted from start to finish?”
Script or no, the Senate GOP faced off against the House GOP over the matter. House leaders wanted their bills considered, not just the three bills before the Senate (and the fourth one to pay for it all). Either by impasse or compromise, the members decided to return to Nashville Monday to see if more work could be done to pass more legislation and get more ideas from the House side. That work continued past the Flyer’s press deadline.
Seen
Covenant School chaplain Matthew Sullivan helped police get into the building that day back in March. He also watched the special session closely. Last Wednesday, he posted a Bible verse to sum up his feelings.
“For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open — Luke 8:17,” he said on X. “We now see what this is REALLY all about, #TNLeg and the nation is seeing it, too. Shame on you!!!”
Even California Governor Gavin Newsom took notice of Nashville. He posted last Wednesday, “The GOP’s playbook in Tennessee: 1. Kick out peaceful moms. 2. Keep the guns in the room. 3. Continue to do nothing to stop children from being gunned down and slaughtered.”
So many said many different things but with one theme: This is not what democracy looks like.
“It was disheartening to see but I will be honest, it wasn’t surprising,” said Matia Powell, executive director of Civic TN, a group supporting minority participation in shaping state policy. “I think this is indicative of what we’ve seen over the last years. I think it’s increasingly gotten worse. We’ve seen the erosion of democracy in Tennessee for the last decade.”
For Powell, this erosion is a product of gerrymandering and restrictive voting laws here: Democracy’s erosion “is a symptom of what happens when leaders are allowed to pick their voters and voters don’t have the opportunity to pick their leaders.”
At least one politician, however, said the behavior of the GOP supermajority during this high-profile, emotionally charged session might have been enough to make voters stand up and take notice.
“Mark my words,” Clemmons posted to X last week. “The eyes of the [hundreds] of mothers in the Cordell Hull [Building] bearing witness to injustice and the undemocratic manner in which this GOP supermajority runs state [government] may result in more progress over [the] long-term than any piece of legislation during this special session.”
A fond memento of a
subpar round (Photo: Bruce VanWyngarden)
I used to play golf with three other guys every Sunday at the Links at Galloway. We always paired off, with the same twosomes competing against each other. The matches were spirited but friendly. There was betting, but if you won five bucks, it was a big deal. We were semi-decent golfers but nobody was going to set the course record. An 80 was a respectable score, and anything in the 70s was considered a very nice round, indeed. We played from the white (middle) tees and there were no gimmes (conceded putts), to eliminate any arguments about when a putt was “good.”
One Sunday in the fall of 2013, I shot a 69 — one under par. This was a big deal to me, something I’d never done before and have never done since. My pals were all excited and rooting for me during the last couple of holes. There were high fives all around when I sank that last putt, and I bought beers in the clubhouse afterwards.
The following week, my playing partner, the painter John Ryan, found a small trophy at a junk store and engraved it with “Mr. 69.” It still sits on my desk, and I still smile at the memories it evokes.
This was all brought freshly to mind last weekend, when a former president of the United States made the following announcement on Truth Social: “I am pleased to report, for those that care, that I just won the Senior Club Championship (must be over 50 years old) at Bedminster (Trump National Golf Club), shooting a 67. Now some people will think that sounds low, but there is no hanky/lanky. Many people watch, plus I am surrounded by Secret Service Agents. Not much you can do even if you wanted to, and I don’t. For some reason, I am just a good golfer/athlete — I have won many club championships, and it is always a great honor.”
That is truly the saddest paragraph I’ve read in a long time. And no, I’m not talking about the fact that Trump thinks “hanky/lanky” is a thing. It’s sad because the man just assumes people will think he is lying — and, of course, he’s right. Bedminster is a professional-level, 7,500-yard, par 72 course, one where professional golfer Phil Mickelson barely broke 80 a few weeks back. The idea that the lumpy 77-year-old Trump could shoot five under par at Bedminster is as ludicrous as the weight and height (6’3”, 215 pounds) he gave Fani Willis last Thursday.
One could maybe give Trump the benefit of the doubt if it was a handicap tournament. (A handicap in golf is your established average score. If a golfer averages an 82, for instance, their handicap is 10 at a par 72 course.) In a tournament where handicaps are applied, if that golfer shoots a 77, his net score would be 67, but no golfer with integrity would then claim that he shot a 67. One suspects that Trump, if the score he claimed to shoot is true, won by using his handicap. But who knows anything at this point? I mean, this is the course where Ivana, aka mother of the three children Trump pays attention to, is buried, so there’s already some weirdness afoot.
But what really makes this so sad is that it appears Trump won his club championship in the stolid, sworn-to-silence company of Secret Service agents rather than enjoying the camaraderie of some pals cheering him on to victory. “For some reason, I am just a good golfer/athlete” is one of the most disconsolate sentences ever written. I can’t help it if I’m good, he says, “for those that care.” Yeesh. Poor Donny.
Even sadder for Trump, is the fact that he’ll never beat the record of the greatest golfer to ever lead a country. I’m talking, of course, about former Korean dictator Kim Jong Il, who in 1994 at the age of 52, shot 38 under par, with 11 holes in one. And it was the first time he ever played! Fittingly, Kim Jong Il died 17 years later at age 69, which is under par on every regulation golf course in the world. For some reason, he was just a good golfer/athlete — the original “Mr. 69.”
It is a kind of love, is it not? How the cup holds the tea, How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare, How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes Or toes. How soles of feet know Where they’re supposed to be. I’ve been thinking about the patience Of ordinary things, how clothes Wait respectfully in closets And soap dries quietly in the dish, And towels drink the wet From the skin of the back. And the lovely repetition of stairs. And what is more generous than a window? — “The Patience of Ordinary Things” by Pat Schneider
Emerging reports of a summer Covid resurgence got me thinking back to 2020 when the world stood still, and I stood still with it. There was uncertainty, and pangs of anxiety accompanied the not-knowing of it all. But somehow through the noise, I found a quiet rhythm, a peace I hadn’t felt before — or since.
When we all hunkered down, a sense of unity took hold. A portion of our city (more than 2,000 people) posed for portraits in the windows and doors of their homes for what would later become Jamie Harmon’s Memphis Quarantine photo book. Across the world, in Spain, France, Italy, India, Germany, and elsewhere, neighbors sang together from balconies and rooftops, in celebration of their local healthcare workers or simply to entertain themselves, to lighten the load of fear and boredom, to connect with other humans.
I’ve written before in this paper how I walked hundreds of miles during lockdown. And I’ve told friends that those walks saved my life — or my mental health, at least. I photographed ants marching across sidewalks, bees alight on blooms, birds on power lines, the patterns on fallen leaves. Have you ever noticed how a sprawling stretch of tree branches resembles the intricacy of human veins? Do you know what causes a sunset to be a breathtaking purplish pink? How many times have you stopped to admire crepuscular rays beaming from beyond fluffy clouds?
Three years ago, we were forced to be patient, to pause and reflect — and we had plenty of time to do such things. We baked homemade bread. We held drive-through parades for graduations and birthdays. We talked for hours on video calls with friends and family near and far. There was a tangible collective empathy. Yet now, we’re hurried again. We don’t have time to wait in line or give a second thought to the man asking for change in the parking lot. Hardly a moment for a phone call. No patience for ordinary things.
But ordinary has become … another mass shooting, another person dead at the hands of police, another law stripping civil rights, another wildfire, another rent increase, another tragedy, and another, and another. I guess what I’m saying is, three years on it’s all back in full force. And no one seems to mind. Although “it” was always there, in some form, so many are back to not caring, back to “not my problem.” Back to every man for himself.
This quote from an August 28th Time article, “Pandemics Don’t Really End — They Echo,” stood out to me: “Pandemics have always frayed the social fabric, disrupted economies, deepened social divides, and intensified prejudices, leaving behind psychological scars — all of which have lasting political repercussions.”
So now, as we live amid the rubble carrying these psychological scars, do we even take notice of the soles of our feet as they scurry from point A to point B? To the steam rising from the cup of hot tea? To the family mourning the loss of a child due to gun violence? To the displaced? To the disadvantaged?
I remember when we gave a damn — about other people, about the present moment, about the beauty in generosity and fellowship.
Gran Turismo stars Archie Madekwe as Jann Mardenborough and David Harbour as Jack Salter.
Hollywood has found itself on a bit of a hot streak in terms of video-game-to-film adaptations. The Last of Us’ zombie apocalypse tale garnered several Emmy nominations for HBO, while The Super Mario Bros. Movie continued to smash those gold question mark blocks to the tune of almost $1.4 billion at the worldwide box office. With those recent successes in mind, executives must have been salivating at the prospect of transforming more recognizable IPs into oodles of gold coins. If you regularly watch television or scroll through social media, it’s more than likely that a ceaseless barrage of Gran Turismo ads has bombarded your screen in recent weeks. But that brand isn’t very recognizable outside the gamer-sphere, which begs the question: Who was this movie for, exactly?
Gran Turismo is a racing simulator video game series that’s been a staple for car enthusiasts since its first installment came out in 1998. The brainchild of Kazunori Yamauchi, the Playstation series is renowned for cutting-edge graphics, faithful digital renderings of a large number of officially licensed vehicles, and an adherence to incredibly accurate driving physics.
I’ve never booted up one of the Turismo games (I prefer my races with a few more bananas and blue shells), but the surging popularity of F1 makes it the perfect time to cash in. And as fortune had it, there was a ready-made underdog story thanks to Jann Mardenborough, who utilized his childhood love for the Gran Turismo game series to become a bona fide professional formula racer. But despite the backing of devoted car fanatics and the narrative trappings of a classic sports biopic, Gran Turismo, the film, more closely resembles two siblings fighting over the only Playstation controller.
Mardenborough’s real-life story is truly quite impressive. Having grown up playing Gran Turismo, he signed up for the GT Academy competition — a joint effort by Sony and Nissan to let gamers compete for the chance to become an actual motorsport driver — during a gap year in college. Mardenborough became the youngest participant to win the competition and has since carved out a respectable racing career.
The movie follows a heavily fictionalized account of Mardenborough’s (Archie Madekwe) rise as he transitions from gamer to driver. But under Neill Blomkamp’s direction, the movie is constantly at war with itself. Important milestones in Mardenborough’s life are chopped up and rearranged to formulate your standard sports drama narrative, and much of the story feels as if it’s drawing from a premade sports checklist. An underdog protagonist, a gruff mentor, and bitter rivals tick all the boxes, even if most of the characters end up as one-dimensional stand-ins along Mardenborough’s journey. Balance that hollowness with the movie’s requirement to double as a glorified commercial for the eponymous simulation series, and there are just too many competing interests for this to be a coherent package.
Despite the script’s scattered approach, the cast does the best they can with the limited chances they’re given. The film centers almost exclusively around Mardenborough, but he spends plenty of time working with his coach Jack Salter (David Harbour), a former racer who never made it to the top. Salter is the archetypal surly mentor, but Harbour balances his tough love approach with an inherent warmth. Orlando Bloom makes a return to movie screens as Danny Moore, a Nissan marketing executive and business-minded foil to Salter as part of Mardenborough’s support team. While there’s none of the stylish charisma of, say, a Legolas or a Will Turner, Bloom props up Moore with a smarmy confidence befitting someone crazy enough to pitch the idea of GT Academy.
In another film, Moore might be set up as an antagonist, but that duty here falls to Nicholas Capa (Josha Stradowski), a hot-headed racer representative of the old-money European motorsport elite, and a character who has no other characteristics or personality traits beyond that. Djimon Hounsou and Geri Halliwell-Horner (Ginger Spice!) are trotted out for the emotional beats as Mardenborough’s parents, but like the rest of the supporting cast, they don’t have too much to do, making them feel peripheral.
The first hour or so, centered almost completely on “the brand,” was almost excruciating. I turned to my left to see that my father had dozed off, missing out on a Moore monologue that was a not-so-subtle sales pitch for the game series. Moore even exclaims “this whole thing is a marketing extravaganza” in one early scene, lest we forget what the heck is going on here. But once the movie moves past the dull table-setting, the second half reveals a competent racing film that hits most of the right beats and provides plenty of vehicle glamor shots.
Frustratingly, the frequent cuts and different camera angles during races remove viewers from the visceral thrill of the competition, making it seem more like a procession than the dangerous and exciting showdown it should be. But a couple shots that settle back into the driver’s seat offer a candid glimpse at the physical toll these races take on their drivers. It’s worth reiterating that Mardenborough’s personal story is quite impressive, but the movie’s competing interests don’t let it shine as it should. Despite the late surge, Gran Turismo loses too much ground at the start, so there’s no chance of a podium finish for this flick.
Mayoral candidate Michelle McKissack set up her campaign headquarters on B.B. King Street. )Photos: Courtesy Michelle McKissack)
Even as two rather well-qualified female candidates continue in pathways that they hope will make their current mayoral runs viable, women already in power are busy constructing models of parliamentary behavior that owe very little to tradition and nothing at all to the vintage tactic of go-along-to-get-along.
Britney Thornton, the Shelby County Commission’s first-term representative from Orange Mound, has her mind set on nothing less than overturning her legislative body’s history and practice of awarding county contracts. Last Monday, the commission’s regular session began with some 17-odd items in the “consent agenda,” these being items that have been previously examined in committee and have already been worked over and are now ready for final judgment.
As each of the 17 items was called to the floor, Thornton directed the same question: How many Black women, men, Asian, white, other were invited to bid on the contract? How many followed through and bid on the contract, and who got the contract?
Almost invariably a white bidder, one used to the jargon and handling of commission business, was awarded the contract.
At one point, the item under discussion was an inmate-feeding contract that has so long belonged to Aramark that it would seem to have the status of a legacy. To the tune of a million and half dollars. Needless to say, the management of Aramark is white.
The distinguished lawyer John Farris, who represents Aramark, offered his usual smooth guarantee that the company would continue to provide inmate meals in its usual skillful mode.
To which Commissioner Thornton threw a bomb. With no substitute agency in mind, she moved to cancel the contract.
“We have to disrupt” was her way of explaining how long-standing aspects of white dominance can be eradicated.
In the end, the commission was brought to a compromise. The Aramark contract will continue for two months with what amounts to a temporary lease on the contract, with the understanding that it will be rebid on in October with a full complement of MWBE requirements favoring a non-white bidder.
Thornton is no lone wolf. She gets frequent support from other commissioners, especially those of the women on this body of seven females and six males.
Her sponsored ordinance directed at the sheriff’s department, getting the department to shed special units and multi-unit alliances, failed, although another requiring the department and the commission to take measure of pretextual road stops was mandated.
Photo: Courtesy Michelle McKissack
• There is no reason to believe that mayoral contender Michelle McKissack has anything like the long aim that Thornton has. McKissack’s style is milder and more inclined to consensus, but she is nothing if not forthright, and her adoption of a headquarters on B.B. King Street last Saturday allows her entry into the forthcoming WMC-TV mayoral debate, in which she will have every opportunity to hold her own and then some.
• For those expecting a word here on the late Governor Don Sundquist, it would have been here but for a bad modem. Expect it soon, online.
Launching a new business is no simple feat. It’s a process that requires you to make many decisions, with one of the more important determinations being which tax structure you want it to fall under. Each structure has its own set of tax and non-tax pros and cons that must be considered along with your own goals and personal situation. Here’s a breakdown of several types to help you make an informed decision.
Limited Liability Company (LLC)
LLCs have become increasingly common, particularly for startup companies. In general, it can be easier and less expensive to set up an LLC than to set up a corporation. An LLC can be taxed as a sole proprietor, partnership, S corporation, or C corporation. Making the choice to form your business as an LLC still leaves the decision of which tax structure to pair it with.
Sole Proprietor
Sole proprietorships are the easiest and least expensive structure to set up, and there are few formalities to maintain. There’s no separate income tax filing required, as the business activity is included within the owner’s personal income tax return. All profits from a trade or business activity will be subject to self-employment tax. The largest drawback for a sole proprietor is the lack of liability protection.
Partnership
You may consider using a partnership structure if your business has two or more owners. This has similar pros and cons to a sole proprietorship. Partnerships can be flexible to fit your operating needs, but they can add a layer of complexity to tax return preparation. Partnerships have an income tax return filing requirement; however, the profits or losses pass through to the owners and are included on their personal income tax returns. There are two types of partnerships to consider.
General partnerships are typically formed using a written agreement between owners. They don’t require filling out paperwork within the state in which the owners reside and offer no liability protection. In general partnerships, owners file taxes under their respective names.
Limited partnerships are made up of one general partner and other limited partners. The general partner has unlimited liability, is more involved in the daily operations of the business, and is accountable for paying self-employment taxes on the partnership’s profits. Limited partners are what they sound like — limited in their liability and in their involvement within the business.
S Corporation
S corporations provide a solid structure for many small businesses. S corporations have an income tax return filing requirement; however, the profits or losses pass through to the owners and are included on their personal tax returns. The self-employment tax in an S corporation is limited to owner compensation paid through payroll (rather than being applied to all profits of the business). S Corporations are limited to a maximum of 100 shareholders. Partnerships, other corporations, certain kinds of trusts, and nonresident aliens don’t qualify as eligible shareholders.
C Corporation
C corporations are commonly known as regular corporations. This is the only structure that pays its own tax but is subject to double taxation. This means a C corporation must pay income tax at a flat rate of 21 percent on its profits and that shareholders are also taxed on their distributed dividends. Although the taxation may seem high, many times it can be minimized when corporations put their profits back into their business to fuel future growth.
Deciding which aligns best with your business needs may seem complicated, but it doesn’t have to be. By evaluating your business goals and activity types, you can feel confident selecting one that’s beneficial to you and your tax strategy.
Partnering with a tax professional to assist in your planning is a terrific way to ensure your startup questions are answered — and the right decisions are made — so you can focus on making your small business dreams a reality. Keep in mind that your choice of tax structure shouldn’t be driven solely by tax considerations. There are many other factors to consider, and you’ll want to include legal advice in the decision.
Gene Gard, CFA, CFP, CFT-I, is a Partner and Private Wealth Manager with Creative Planning. Creative Planning is one of the nation’s largest Registered Investment Advisory firms providing comprehensive wealth management services to ensure all elements of a client’s financial life are working together, including investments, taxes, estate planning, and risk management. For more information or to request a free, no-obligation consultation, visit CreativePlanning.com.
Many take water for granted. (Photo: Ndoeljindoel | Dreamstime.com)
As the heat wave intensifies across the country, as workers exposed to the heat collapse on the job in increasing numbers — some of them die — Governor Greg Abbott of Texas recently signed a law nullifying local ordinances in the state that require 10-minute heat and water breaks for those who work in the sun.
Water is life! Yeah, so what, says Abbott and those who support this law. Critics call it the Death Star Law. Texas Representative Greg Casar, who recently staged a nine-hour thirst strike on the steps of the U.S. Capitol in protest of such laws — such indifference to the health and lives of so many American workers — said that Abbott, along with other GOP governors like Ron DeSantis, “are participating in the cruelty Olympics, trying to outdo each other.”
These are deeply troubling times, and no doubt there are matters of greater peril for humanity than the right of construction and other workers to drink water on the job, but when I began reading about this and related issues, something began tearing at my insides. Water is life! I could barely imagine not having access to it. As TheTexas Observer noted:
“Climate scientists have projected that Texas summers will get increasingly hot if climate change continues, exacerbating the public health risk. For every heat-related workplace death, dozens more workers fall ill. Since 2011, the state has seen at least 42 heat-related deaths on the job, and at least 4,030 incidents of heat-related illness, according to data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.”
To think about this beyond the statistics, consider the death of Roendy Granillo, age 25, a Texas construction worker who began feeling ill at work. He was ignored, told to keep working, and eventually collapsed on the job. He died at the hospital, where his body temperature was 110 degrees.
Somehow this is all connected. The planet is heating up. We just got through the hottest July in recorded history, and the reaction of (primarily) Republican politicians has been to push back against humane legal intervention, meant to protect workers and others most vulnerable to the heat wave. What do we value? Do we value life or do we value profit? If the latter is true, we’re doomed. We will ignore, not address, the looming climate disaster and other deep dangers, such as nuclear war.
Ignoring these looming disasters is a crime against humanity — whatever that means. The United Nations’ Office of Genocide Protection addresses that very question, noting that many scholars trace the root of the concept to the late 18th century, in reference to slavery and the slave trade, as well as the atrocities of European colonialism in Africa and elsewhere.
Slavery! Somehow that seems to fit into the issue. The horror of slavery — the dehumanization of millions of people — is more than just numbers. It boils down to cruelty against individuals. Denying a worker a water break, especially as the days get mercilessly hotter, sounds like some leftover cruelty from the slave era: a crime against humanity, especially when you factor in the racism.
As The Guardian points out, six out of every 10 construction workers in Texas are Latino — and Abbott’s law will hurt Black and Latino communities the most, which are already disproportionately affected by the intensifying heat.
“In the midst of a record-setting heat wave, I could not think of a worse time for this governor or any elected official, who has any, any kind of compassion, to do this,” said civil rights organizer David Cruz, quoted by The Guardian. “This administration is incrementally trying to move us backwards into a dark time in this nation. When plantation owners and agrarian mentalities prevailed.”
Water is life! Yeah, so what?
Recently, writing about the Texas border wall, I noted this: “A state trooper said he was under orders not to give migrants any water.”
And then the New York Times, writing about life in Latino border communities, known as colonias, talked about the continual water shutoffs the residents are enduring, and then, when the water comes back on, they are warned to boil it before using it. “You could not trust the water when we needed it the most, if we had it at all,” one resident said, adding: “I’m afraid to take a shower or even splash water on my face. We were told not to let water get into our eyes.”
And as her father pointed out: “You drive around the block, and you see the car washes using all of this water, but there is no water for a mother and her two children? How is that possible? It’s like the colonias are part of a different country.”
As I write these words, I take a gulp of water. I take it for granted — and I’m not writing in the hot sun. I’m cool and comfortable and the water I drink is simply refreshing. I hardly think about it as a right, or the source of life and health. But it is.
Robert Koehler (koehlercw@gmail.com), syndicated by PeaceVoice, is a Chicago award-winning journalist and editor. He is the author of Courage Grows Strong at the Wound.
An X beef between representatives Matt Gaetz (R-Florida) and Steve Cohen (D-Tennessee) burned hot as hell recently.
Cohen fired first with an August 14th post burning Gaetz for saying (as he stood next to Donald Trump on television) that “only by force” can things change in Washington. Cohen turned up the heat five days later posting that “not only does [Gaetz] act like but looks like Lucifer.”
Gaetz fired back, “Steve Cohen is an expert on the subject, having actually met Lucifer.” Cohen retorted, “Lucifer counseled you on your ‘dating’ life, and gave you some numbers but none above 18.”
Cause and Cure
Posted to Reddit by u/BiggClay
“Just went in for a $5 bag and found this rolled up in my napkins,” wrote Reddit user u/BiggClay last week. Big ol’ h/t to Allan Creasy.
Hitler Pizza
Posted to Reddit by u/Notanotheraibot
Well, Hitler found out last week his favorite Memphis pizza place was not treated well in a recent Reddit poll. This instant classic is bound for the MEMernet Hall of Fame.
