This just came in today's mail all the way from Britain. Signed by my 🔥🔥🔥 devilish hero @DannyBlack_99 He's one HELL of a wrestler!

Long before African Americans were granted their freedom in law, extremely brave and intelligent enslaved people were leading their own revolutions and freeing themselves from the shackles placed around their feet.

Kings. JET Magazine, 1972. #MLK #CorettaScottKing #TheKingCenter

Yup

😎 🥂

A newly revealed cover for ‘MIDNIGHT X-MEN’ #1 pays tribute to ‘FRIGHT NIGHT,’ reimagining the classic vampire poster through the lens of Marvel's upcoming horror universe. Read more: [dreadcentral.com/comics-book…]

He's right. Theres a whole legion of adults now who can't even write an email without a machine helping them pick the tone and word choice. Wake up people this is not who you wanted to be lmao

Happy National Brother Day with one of the most iconic sibling duos in BLEACH: Thousand-Year Blood War 😌

"Josephine Baker at Cartier" by artist Maurice Millière

Most people remember him as Saruman, Count Dooku, or Dracula. But those iconic roles were merely shadows of the man behind them. Christopher Lee didn't live one life. He lived several—each more extraordinary than most people's entire existence. Born in London in 1922, Lee grew up in a family of old European distinction. His step-cousin was Ian Fleming, who would go on to create James Bond—a character whose elegance and danger some say carried echoes of Lee himself. Then the world erupted into war. Lee volunteered immediately. Poor eyesight kept him from flying, so he joined RAF Intelligence instead, eventually moving into special operations—the kind of work that remains partially classified even today. He worked behind enemy lines in the final stages of the war and beyond, doing things he would almost never discuss. Years later, on the set of The Lord of the Rings, that silence broke for just a moment. Peter Jackson was directing a scene where Saruman gets stabbed from behind. He suggested Lee let out a dramatic scream. Lee calmly interrupted: "Have you any idea what kind of noise a man makes when he's stabbed in the back? Because I do." The set fell silent. Jackson quietly adjusted the scene. After the war, Lee turned to acting—not chasing stardom, but simply working. And he worked relentlessly. Over 280 films across seven decades, in multiple languages. He spoke fluent English, French, Italian, German, and Spanish, with working knowledge of Swedish, Russian, and Greek. Long before Hollywood embraced international stars, Lee was one—performing across Europe with the same commanding presence he brought to British cinema. He became the face of Dracula for a generation. He brought menace and sophistication to villains that could have been cartoonish. He made every role—great or forgettable—watchable simply by being in it. Then, at age 88, he did something nobody expected. Christopher Lee released a heavy metal album. Not as a novelty. Not as a joke. A serious, symphonic metal concept album about Charlemagne—sung in multiple languages, backed by actual metal musicians who respected his vision. Critics were stunned. It was genuinely good. He released another album at 91. Another at 92. His final recording was a thunderous metal cover of "My Way"—less Frank Sinatra's croon, more Viking battle cry. A man born before television existed was recording metal music in the streaming era. But perhaps his most profound connection was literary. In the late 1950s, long before The Lord of the Rings became a global phenomenon, Christopher Lee met J.R.R. Tolkien briefly at a pub in Oxford. Lee was already a devoted fan who read the trilogy every single year. Decades later, when Peter Jackson assembled his cast, Christopher Lee was the only actor who had actually met the author himself. He desperately wanted to play Gandalf. He was cast as Saruman instead. And he gave that role a gravity no one else could have—because he wasn't just performing Tolkien's words. He had heard Tolkien speak. He understood the weight of that world from the source. Lee never retired. His final film roles came in 2015—the year he died—at 93 years old. He worked until the very end, not from necessity, but because creation was simply how he lived. Think about the span of that existence: Born in 1922. Fought in WWII. Worked in intelligence operations that remain classified. Witnessed the birth of cinema, television, and the internet. Moved from silent films to CGI blockbusters. Played Dracula, wizards, Sith Lords, and sang heavy metal in his nineties. Legends grew around him—some exaggerated, some untrue. But the truth never needed embellishment. Christopher Lee was a war veteran, a polyglot, a cinematic titan, a metal musician, and the last living bridge between Tolkien's world and its retelling on screen. He once said: "Every actor has to make terrible films from time to time. The trick is never to be terrible in them." #archaeohistories

Did you know: Stephanie Williams is the first Black Eisner Award nominee for Best Writer since 1995, when Dwayne McDuffie was acknowledged for Icon

Ultimate nerdom is when you collect everything you've worked on! If that's wrong, then i don't want to be right!

PBS is putting out incredible docs about the lost cause of the confederacy and how the south operates today on YouTube. So so good.

Banning Black history limits public access to the truth

This country is a joke. The president is a piece of shit and his entire circle are evil human beings.

Ted Turner is featured in my single favorite Futurama bit. R.I.P.

Corporations have more rights than Black people

Robot Chicken knew.