Purists around the world, prepare to be shaken and stirred.

Daniel Craig, the latest beefy incarnation of fictional superspy James Bond, believes that the world is ready for a black Bond. Spurred on by the election of Barack Obama, Craig, who caught flack for being the first blonde actor to play Bond, said, "I think the role could easily be played by a black actor because the character created by Ian Fleming in the '50s has undergone a great deal of evolution and continues to be updated."

A jump from blonde to black is a major one, but it's not unprecedented for black actors to be cast in parts written for whites. Ving Rhames took over Telly Savalas' Kojak in 2005, and James Earl Jones received rave reviews as King Lear on Broadway.

But just because there's precedent, should a black Bond be inevitable? Is seeing black actors take over roles written for whites an integral step in the move toward racial justice? It seems to me that casting a black James Bond would accomplish little more than riling up racists – "See? They want EVERYTHING!!!" – which, though fun, is often more trouble than it's worth. What do you think?

On this day in 1969, transcendent children's program Sesame Street debuted on PBS, changing television forever. After the jump, a collection of some of the Street's most memorable guest appearances, complete with our favorite: kids freaking out to Stevie Wonder's "Superstition."

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So, Obama may have this thing locked, huh? 'Bout time, especially since TV, movies and theater have known for decades that black men are great in positions of power. Not only is our physical presence in high offices different, therefore inherently unsettling and humbling, our skin tone goes great with the luxurious leather chairs on which VIPs perch.

After the jump, some of our favorite authoritative black men from throughout the years. (Sorry, ladies, we'll get you next time.) Check them out, and please be vocal with your agreement or displeasure.

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'Twas the opening of director Debbie Allen's production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof last night. As you surely know, this show and its all-black cast have been points of interest for Stereohyped for weeks now, and the crowd that buzzed and twittered in last evening's "Will Call" line assured us others have been equally as interested.

The press area, staged in a row along the sidewalk and facing the theater, was sweaty and cramped, and cameramen towered over the whole affair on risers placed behind the interviewers. "Jesus Christ," Allen exclaimed to her entourage as she made her way into the gauntlet. We agreed. And then the flashbulbs were blinding.

After the jump, the celebrity attendants, our favorite of whom is Eartha Kitt.

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I'm a musical girl. Give me a song and dance number, and I'm quite content. As a result of this, though, I miss out on a lot of good Broadway drama. A quick search through the archives will show you that I was more than willing to make Debbie Allen's production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof a notable exception. I caught a preview (more like a formal dress rehearsal) of the show Sunday night, and I didn't long for a song or a dance break. Not even once.

Tennessee Williams' play was not written with an all-black cast in mind, but someone who hadn't known that going in probably wouldn't guess it. The play covers one night in the life of a rich Southern family, the members of whom are in conflict over the sorts of things rich people are often in conflict over — power, sex, money, and mendacity, to name three. The action centers around Big Daddy's (James Earl Jones) 65th birthday and the entire play takes place in the bedroom of Brick (Terrence Howard) an alcoholic ex-football player with a broken ankle who won't have sex with his wife Maggie (Anika Noni Rose), who desperately wants to have sex with her husband. The two of them do an amazing job capturing the sexual tension, resentment, and hatred that poisons their relationship and keeps it alive at the same time.

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I've had many unprofessional moments in my years as a working woman. There was the time during my (brief) newspaper career that I fainted (I had forgotten to eat breakfast) while conducting an interview at the modest home of a just-returned-from-Iraq soldier and awoke reclining in the family's threadbare La-Z-Boy, where I was force fed a couple of pieces of Wonder bread and a glass of orange juice. Then there was the time, when I was an intern at Jane, that I got rained on so severely during my lunch break that my tank top — which, when dry, was totally safe to wear without a bra — became completely see-through. Completely. And for some reason, it took about 4 hours to become opaque again. I had no jacket, and the size-zero samples in the fashion closet wouldn't even fit over my head. Luckily, they liked that sort of thing at Jane (R.I.P.).

Yesterday was one of those unprofessional days. Why? Well, yesterday, Jossip Initiatives boss-man David Hauslaib and I went to a press event for Debbie Allen's all-black production of Tennessee Williams' Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Terrence Howard was there (whatevs — he had on a hat and a man-purse the whole time), as was Anika Noni Rose (very cute and pleasantly sassy), James Earl Jones (!), Giancarlo Esposito, Mr. Gaines, Debbie Allen, and…Phylicia Rashad.

Phylicia Rashad was where the unprofessional bit came in.

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Naomi Campbell kills it on the Paris runway, thanks to John Galliano. [WI]

Don Imus, you couldn't have waited at least a year? [GH]

I wonder how Indian 7-Eleven employees feel when confronted by Apu from The Simpson's every time they go to work. [RCLCS]

Black writers have a harder time developing lasting careers. Reason No. 1 is simple. [BV]

James Earl Jones was chosen read excerpts from the Declaration of Independence aloud in Philly to commemorate Independence Day. And our slave-owning forefathers are rolling in their graves. [SP]