On Monday, September 12, 2011, I opened up my Netflix account. It was one of the best entertainment decisions I’ve made after I retired three years ago. I had a database of hundreds if not thousands of movies at my disposal.
For $7.99 a month, you got unlimited movies and TV episodes instantly over the Internet either directly to your TV set or computer. There are no ads, and you can pause, rewind, fast forward, or rewatch as often as you like. You can see as often as you want, anytime you want on a 24/7 basis.
You can also cancel your subscription at anytime online 24 hours a day. There are no cancellation fees, caveat, there are no refunds for partial months. Your account is charged each month on your anniversary date; meaning when you opened your account.
If you have an iPad or an iPhone, you will be able to download a Netflix application coming soon from the Apple Apps store and log into your Netflix account.
The movies of Netflix’s database are good, bad and ugly as was expected. I’ve seen extraordinary pictures like Lawrence of Arabia and terrible pictures I don’t even remember their names. That’s okay, for $7.99 per month, you can’t only have the ham, bones are part of the deal too.
Three days ago a saw a pictures which circled around my head all day long. The name of the motion picture was Bojangles flawlessly performed by Gregory Hines and Peter Riegart and directed by Joseph Sargent. Bojangles was about the legendary dancer Bill “Bojangles” Robinson who worked his way up from vaudeville to headline both Broadway shows and classic Hollywood films.
Bill “Bojangles” Robinson (May 25, 1878 – November 25, 1949) was an American tap dancer and actor of stage and film. Audiences enjoyed his understated style, which eschewed the frenetic way of the jitterbug in favor of cool and reserve; rarely did he use his upper body, relying instead on busy, inventive feet, and an expressive face.
Blacks and whites developed differing opinions of him. To whites, for example, his nickname “Bojangles” meant happy-go-lucky, while the black variety artist Tom Fletcher claimed it was slang for “squabbler.” As much as he was an extraordinary professional tap dancer, her personal life was a wreck. He was a womanizer, a gambler and a man who was too close to the bottle. Robinson was said to have had very little education, had a nasty demeanor (there were times of kindness and generosity,) confrontational, quarrelsome, drank and gambled heavily and so on, but his dancing was extraordinary, especially his Tap dance scenes with little Shirley Temple were very endearing and legendary which is the way most people lovingly think of him today.
During his time he has to fight the hatred of the fair skin population. Not being able to eat in a white restaurant, go to a white rest room, ride in the white section of public buses and other racial restrictions, was humiliating to the Tap dancer. With all his dancing talents he was treated as a second class citizen by the white community of his own country. He fought his way upwards the same way Rosa Parks, Jackie Robinson, Malcolm X, Jesse Owens, Muhammad Ali, Martin Luther King and thousands of other talented Afro-Americans who were humiliated because of the color of their skin. This social discrimination was well depicted in the movie. It was sad to watch how he was treated by the whites. However, at the end of the day, Robinson was successful despite the obstacle of racism.
After a series of heart attacks, the doctor advised him to quit in 1948. Robinson maintained that though he had trouble walking, talking sleeping and breathing, when he danced he felt wonderful. He died a few months later. Despite earning more than $2 million during his lifetime, Robinson died penniless in New York City in 1949 at the age of 71 from heart failure. Newspapers estimated that almost one hundred thousand people turned out to witness the passing of his funeral procession.
Adam Clayton Powell, Sr. gave the eulogy, which was broadcast over the radio. Robinson is buried in the Cemetery of the Evergreen in Brooklyn, New York. Duke Ellington composed “Bojangles (A Portrait of Bill Robinson)”, a set of rhythmic variations as a salute to the great dancer.
I tip my hat to Mr. Bojangles and the rest of the African-American community who struggled to earn their way to the top and made it big. They finally opened the door wide open to their class, and now the President of the United States is a descendant of a man from Africa. Yep, I tip my hat to this artist who could dance like a prince even though the color of his skin was black. He eventually made his dent in the entertainment world of America. Good Day.
I first learned of Bill Robinson through a song written by Jerry Jeff Walker. Though the song was called “Mr. Bojangles”, it was about a homeless white fellow in New Orleans whom Jerry Jeff ran into in jail. Still, the connection got made, and many people who never knew the “real” Bonjangles learned about his talent. If you don’t know the song, you can find it here.
Morning Linda:
Yes, that is the accurate story of the song. The name of the man in prison was not Bill “Bojangles” Robinson. He was a white man using Bojangles as an alias.
In my opinion, Sammy Davis Jr. was the singer that best performed this classical song. Neil Diamond also included this song amongst his repertoire.
Thank you for the link; it enhances the blog post.
Regards,
Omar.-