During the mid-80s, in the section of the galaxy of Queens known as St. Albans, constellations were formed by guns spark and the blaze of crack rocks. During these tumultuous years, when I took the long way home with Kevin Scott, beyond the corners that became kingdoms where cee-lo kings ruled with 40oz crowns, beyond a graffiti mural, that told me I could as long as I believed, beyond an epidemic that put zombies in the streets around me, on my television there were heroes.

Heroes like Doc Gooden with that Jheri curl, during his clan days, K-K-King niggas until Queens got that ring. Heroes like Michael, when he still had a complexion like mine and was the baddest MJ on the planet. Beyond the Moonwalker, beyond the glory of Shea, beyond the shine of hustlers on Linden, Farmers, and Murdock boulevard, there were heroes from another galaxy. These heroes had a standard time and place: 3 o’clock, on channel 5, Saturday afternoon.

In New York City, this was the official time of the drive-in cinema thanks to the hero maker, the hero deliverer, Mel Maron. He’s the man who exported kung fu flicks from 42nd street, the man who stood up against the ‘scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit’ and hustled chopsocky to the universe that was New York City and the galaxy of Queens.

On Saturday afternoons, you’d watch the movies at 3:00pm and afterward, you’d go outside and engage your friends in epic fake kung fu battles. Trust, I had some memorable ones, like me versus a girl named Mia. She decided that she would be a ninja, I forget which color and I’d be another. She used her power to blast on me and missed. I used mine and the only problem was that my ninja power was a curtain rod that almost took her eye out. She got stitches and I got a spanking.

The 3 o’clock movies weren’t always good. Some were really bad, but the gratuitous fake violence and dubbing made them enjoyable. However, there was one brand, one mark of excellence. If the film started with triumphant horns accompanied by a golden SB you knew it would be good and quite possibly one of your favorites.

My other epic battles were with my cousin Malik (pronounced Mah-Leek). We’d often have amazing fake kung fu fights in my backyard. When we got tired of using our fake death inflicting moves that we learned from the previous week’s movie, we’d often make our own epic movies with figurines. This would include a mixture of Star Wars, Gi Joe and whatever toys we could get our hands on. One day, while me and my cousin were playing, after he broke one of my toys, he told me that he would pay me back and that he’d buy me ‘Chinese men that could fly over the bus.’

What my cousin was referring to, was our perception or reality that we’d inherited from an upbringing on kung fu cinema. Back when everything Asian was still considered ‘Oriental.’ Back when you assumed that every Asian person you met in NYC really knew kung fu. Back when my parents allowed me to walk up to random Asian people and ask if they were Chinese or Japanese, back when they’d smile as a response with a facial expression that said ‘Do you like watermelon or fried chicken?’

I don’t have metal fingers, but Illmatical was born like this. This Gweilo knows that Chinese superheroes and villains had just as much significance on Western culture as Batman and The Joker.

For me to deliver a listicle, for me to drop science on my favorite Shaw Brothers movies, I’d have to tell you about my life. This mixtape has seven tracks, and I’ll stream it to you like this…