Remember when Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was a phenomenon in the States? In the town where I grew up, people lined up around the block to see it. I still adore the movie, but I have to say, now that we’re getting a lot more martial-arts imports in multiplexes, I am vastly more likely to see one if it’s somehow mashed up with a Western. That’s why I’ll probably see The Warrior’s Way:

And why I liked Kung Fu Hustle so much:

I’m not sure I can explain why the combination works so well. I think it’s partially that the long alleys of Western-style main streets give the action sequences different and more expansive space to unfold than when they take place in courtyards, where the only options are around and up. And it’s also just fun to juxtapose two seemingly disparate setting and to realize they’re essentially the same. On every frontier, men and women need sex, and chance, and trade.

I’m so sorry for the delay in kicking this off, everybody. I got a little too caught up in putting together bookshelves (and, uh, repairing drywall) to put it together to have the energy to read anything on them. I really appreciate your patience. Let’s shoot for being through party IV by Friday, and I’ll put up a post towards the end of the day to kick off discussion over the weekend.

I’m glad BabylonSista weighed in so substantially on Real Housewives of Atlanta, because I’ve been feeling some substantial ambiguity about how addicted I am to the show and how I feel about the women on it. One of the charms and dangers of the Real Housewives franchise is that its appeal is based in judgement. You can watch the women from your city meander places that might not be your haunts but at least in your basic geographic memory, and pride yourself on the fact that you would never in a billion years behave these women behave, whether it’s to their husbands, their children, their beleaguered assistants, or their hairdressers. There’s a fascination in watching them blow up minor slights, say deliriously clueless things, and float through the same world as the rest of us unencumbered by the same rules.

The women of Real Housewives of Atlanta seem to be the masters of the genre. Nobody drops a confessional catchphrase like Nene Leakes. I could listen to that woman discuss Kim’s storage lockers forever. They date sketchy wannabe psychologists and give wigs as gifts and buy themselves Aston Martins as pick-me-ups. They’re a hell of a lot of fun.

But I definitely find myself hesitating when I’m talking to BabylonSista online and gaping over the ladies’ antics. And honestly, it’s because I want to make sure I’m not just some white lady acting shocked about the behavior of some black women who live in a city I don’t know that much about. I feel like I can judge Jill Zarin’s cranky Jewish housewife schtick. Washington’s weird, because I’ve met most of the wives through my job, and so I mostly see the disparities between how they’re cut and how they are in real life. When it comes to Atlanta, though, I don’t want to be ignorant. Except when it comes to Phaedra and her pregnancy. In that case, I’m pretty sure crazy knows no color.

First off, huge thanks to BabylonSista and Katie for filling in for me here last week. I always love reading their writing—having them here makes me feel like two good friends have come to visit for the week. Second, thanks to all of you for being patient for me while I was being a little pokey. Doing this whole moving a grown-up amount of stuff into a grown-up apartment is tiring!

I did manage to write a couple of things, though! In honor of Chuck Brown’s Grammy nod, I wrote an analysis of the song he really should have been nominated for (And as an indirect result, ended up getting followed by Eric B. of Eric B. and Rakim on Twitter. Twitter is the greatest democratizing force of our age, y’all). And I’m doing a roundtable with my friends Sara Libby and Tyler Lewis on the state of the female emee in The Atlantic. My kickoff is here. Sara’s follow-up is here. Tyler’s will be up later today. And I might have some thoughts on consciousness-raising v. battling and the need for more female moguls in the Missy vein later this week.

And now, back to the blog! I missed y’all.