Sunday, December 30, 2007

Ringo

This weekend, I'm house sitting for a friend of mine named Billy while he and his girlfriend Kelly take a holiday. While I'm at the house, I'm to watch their dogs which is a treat for me. One is a cross between a bassest hound and golden retriever named Kelsy and is a wonderful dog. The other is an asshole named Ringo. Okay, I don't think that "asshole" is a particluar breed, but that would link dogs and humans in the evolution chain.

Ringo is actually a black chow mixed from what I can tell and barely over ten months old. He is loud, rambunctious, and a pain in the keister. When I fist met him, he jumped all over my lap, stuck his snout in my face and looked to be saying, "Hi, my name is Ringo" over and over and over, hoping I would give him a scratch. When I did, he would run around the room only to wind up jumping on me and saying, "Hi, my name is Ringo" over and over again. This would go on for hours, if I 'd let it. Basically, this dog has ADD and is a glory hound to boot. Whenever I would try to check on Kelsy, Ringo would just nose his way into the situation to act as thoough he was the only dog in the house. Poor Kelsy would just look at me with an exasperated look of, "What the Hell can I do? You're lucky to just be here for a few days. I had to deal with this ass for two months now", then she'd shake her head and walk away.

Billy warned me that Ringo has had the problem of jumping the fence in their back yard at their new house since they moved there last week and that I would have to put her on her leash. It seems that every morning after I get her out of her kennel and I walk to the back door all while tryingto unlock it and hold her back at the same time, she gets out and hauls butt to the back fence he jumps it like Steve McQueen in "The Great Escape". When it happened yesterday at seven in the morning, it hit me that I am a large Black man in a fairly quiet neighborhood yelling at the top of my lungs for a dog. That went on for ten minutes when a man can up to the front fence cradleing Ringo in his arms. "Aww, is this your sweet litte doggie", he asked. In a bit of early morning before I even had a cup of coffee sarcasm, I said "Oh, yeah. That's adorable little Ringo you have there, sir", with the sweetness Ranger Smith before he threatened to turn Yogi Bear into a rug, but not near Ike Turner telling Tina to eat the cake. Meanwhile, there's Ringo looking at me with those big brown "Can I haz cheezeburger now" eyes, playing it up as innocent as possible, all while giving me the Muttley laugh behind this guys back. When we got back into the house, Ringo did his best to brown nose me when I went off on a tirade of how I haven't even had a cup of coffe and I'm yelling out at seven in the monring with a neigborhood of old white people looking for a dog like a idiot and why can't you act like Kelsy, all the while Ringo give me the "Dude, I was playing around" look. That is when I called the dog an asshole. I think I also said doucebag as well in my anger.

After having a cup of java and finally calming down, Ringo and I had a talk where I told him that I was only looking out for his best and if something where to happen to him, I'm not sure what Billy and his girlfriend would do, even if they had him for two months when someone forced the dog on them and they weren't even sure that they even have another dog. After a few scratches on the forhead and a treat for Ringo, things seemed to be back to normal. That is until this morning when I went to take him outside again and he jumped again. This time, I drove all over the nieghborhood for nearly an hour before I had to go into the radio station and asking folks if they saw the dog. No luck whatsoever, so it looks as though as soon as I'm off work, I shall continue to look for Ringo. If you're on the Southside of Savannah, particularly on San Fernando off Largo and you see a dog that fits Ringo's description, let me know. I would appriciate it.

By the way, I would like to state for the record that I love and adore dog and wish that I could have one for myself if I could afford it. That being said, once again Ringo is an asshat.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

I wanted a Hula Hoop...

In case you decided to get away from all the noise of the today, I thought I would leave this for you under the tree. By the way, this is the way I like The Chipmunks. No CGI, no stinkin' girl chipmunks, none of that for me. Give me the real thing. LONG LIVE ALVIN!

Oh, and Merry Christmas.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Merry Crimble

Well, here we are. Just less than 48 hours till the big day. If you haven't done your shopping yet, you're still thinking about who to get that great gift for and you try to make it to the store as fast as possible for that last minute sweater or Playstation 3. I truly have no idea what that's like these days because I am as broke as Britney Spears carreer.

I'm did not write that for pity, God no. I just don't think that if I even had the money would I want to even face the crowds this time of year. If I had an actual, leagal, official nuclear family (wife, 3 kids, and a dog named Murray) and I had to go shopping for them every year, someone would be in pain and it would not be me. I think my kids would be spoiled and would only want the best. Which means I would have to fight humans for a Rock Star video game or a TMX Elmo. I can see it now, with me standing in the toy eisle with dark shades looking at the last XBox 360 along with a throng of others, all while I'm holding a shotgun and saying "I'm here to buy toys and chew bubble gum. And I'm all outta gum". The very fact that I'm a large Black man would be a plus in that book, but I know that I would have to take out a few soccer moms just to get my kids what they wanted, all so I don't have to hear it from them later on how Cindy down the street got a rare Super Ultra Mega Power Big Hair Bratz doll and they didn't. No, someone will have to take the hit for my kids and it ain't gonna be me this year. They will have to pry that toy talking parrot from my cold, dead hands, you damn dirty apes.

Since it just me however , I'm mixed with joy and yes, a bit of sadness that I don't have the chance to buy anything for anyone this year. I did send out Christmas cards via email (if you didn't get you're it's your own fault for not giving me your email address when I asked for it weeks ago, so don't be mad at me), but it was all I could do this year. Still, it's the thought that counts and do think of my readers all the time. So, I would like to wish you and yours a very blessed Merry Christmas and hopefully a wonderful New Year. I hope to see you all converging here for more goofiness in 2008.

I shall pray for you if you have to head back to Target for those batteries for that Nintendo DS.

UPDATE If you already got my card or you didn't and I do have your email address, you may want to look for one more little thing on Christmas Eve. I hope you like it.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Happy Holidays

While I'm putting this post together, I'm working on a Christmas CD for a party I'm DJing on Saturday. I had dialysis today and I'm kind of worn out, but thanks to what happened to me yesterday, I wasn't able to get back on track so I'm here now trying to finish this up so I can go home. Anyway, I thought about one of the songs on the disc that I sent out to folks last year, "Happy Holidays", by The Whispers. There's no video of them performing the song, but I did find this homemade clip that should put you in the mood for the holidays if you haven't gotten it yet. I'm gonna take a break and I should have at least one more good post in me this Sunday before the big day comes.

My Christmas Cards

I hope that you all got your Christmas cards I sent out. If I didn't please send me your email today to samjohnson@gmail.com and I will try to send it out to you as quickly as possible. I don't really celebrate it to big here because it's just me and there's really know reason to go big this time of
year when you live alone. I also don't expect much when it comes to presents. A few cards maybe and that's it. The Kenner Star Wars Give-A-Show was a great surprise, but today I had an even bigger shock.

I went to my mailbox and noticed that I had gotten three cards today and that put a bit of a smile on my face. When I got in, I opened them up one by one. The first from from my radio pal CJ, with a very simple 'Have a merry Christmas, Sam and see you in 2008". I thought that was nice of her to do that.

The next card came from my partner in crime from my TV show Underground Savannah, Bobby Ruggerio, along with a photo of his kids Emma and Vinnie, whom I haven't seen in forever. The card said, "And now it is time for the Festivus Airing of Grievances!" I had a great laugh from that and it was wonderful seeing the kids. In fact, from what I see in the photo, Vinnie is just like his dad. INSIDE JOKE!

The third card I got was from my friend Tina. It was a simple little card with Santa on the front and the inside said "Thank you for your friendship through 2007 and I pray that 2008n is much better. Love, Tina." I thought how nice of her to send that to me.

I then read something else I missed on the car, right at the bottom. It said, "P.S. I have made a donation to your name to the National Transplant Assistance Fund."

When I saw that, I began to shake a bit. I haven't had a fundraiser for it in over two years. I've posted links to it on the blogs, but really I haven't pushed it on anyone because I hate having to ask folks for money. I even hatged putting up that stupid Pay Pal thing on the blog, but someone told me that it's okay to have it up. Still, I feel bad asking anyone for anything, possibly becasue of my pride for one and two, no one's just gonna come out and help a guy like me they barely even know. But, when someone does help, especially after all this time, at this time of year, it is a blessing. Truthfully, I have been crying on and off all night because if that. The fact that no matter how much I want to hang out and be a part of the gang, my life will never be normal no matter what. That sadly, I may have to live on the kindness of friends and stranger in the future in order for me to survive. And maybe, just maybe there are people out there who truly do care about you, despite all the craziness and I guess Tina is one of them. I'm all cried out right now, so this gives me the perfect chance to say thank you and God Bless you, Tina. Your gift wasn'ta toy from a childhood memory, or a tin of cookies and fruitcake. No, just a simple card and a gift I would have never expected that has now become a part of what could be down the road, the greatest gift of all: Life.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Once again, here's the original version of this month's Murmur magazine essay. If you live in the Savannah area and you want to see how it looked in the end, stop by any kiosk that has the Murmur logo. It's free, which is cool that a magazine that looks that good should at least cost something. A steak dinner, maybe. How about a beer? Oh well, whatever.


I've been asked by the editor of this lovely little magazine, Tadd Trueb to come up with a piece for the December issue. Mind you, it's a last minute thing, since the original story fell through and he needed someone to fill in for a page or two. For the record, I feel like Regis Philbin whenever David Letterman calls and asks if he could come by the show since Tom Cruise has a Scientology thing that night. I now have a twenty-four hour deadline to meet in order for Tadd to get things published on time. Which means "deadlines" is this month's subject. How do you think, Dear Murmur reader, will I get to that subject? Read and see.

As we all know by now, the deadline for 2007 is 11:59 on December 31. At the stroke of the clock at midnight, it will be January 1, 2008. After all the Auld Lang Syne, the boozing, the kissing, and the rest that people do to bring in the new year, it now comes time to come up with a resolution for the next year. Oh, I almost forgot...My dad would get his .38 and unload it on New Year's Eve. He'd be buzzed on gin, then go to the upstairs window and start shooting. I don't think he hit anyone, at least anyone still alive from his holiday sniper shots. I would like to remind everyone that my father was friggin' crazy like that.


On New Year's Day, the question is always asked. Some jackhole comes up to you while you are trying to enjoy your yearly bowl of Hop n' Johns for luck in the next few months and ruins it by asking you the dumbest thing in the world. "So, have you made any New Year's resolutions?"

First, let me say that if I did make any resolutions, it is none of your business, Nosey McNoserson. How about your resolution be not to stick your big head where it doesn't belong? Why don't you use that super power of getting into everybody's deal when you're not wanted and help OJ find those real killers like he said he would? Oh yeah, he could really use the help, pal. With that being said, Nosey now has just put the pressure on you for the entire year. You start to become self conscious and realize that you have a problem that needs to be fixed and the new year is the perfect time to fix it. It's not fair really to anyone. the fact that you have this long standing problem and you have now forced yourself to have it resolved in 364 days from now. Great, no pressure. No Pressure at all, right?

Anyone who makes a resolution on New Year's Day is a fool. You will say it, but you probably won't do it. It's true because I read about it in a survey. You can't argue with me on it because I know that you've done it as well as I. "I will lose weight this year." "I will stop smoking this year." "I promise not to wake up in a bed that I never bought after a night of Wild Turkey shots." That one I made up, kinda. I know a few folks that do that constantly. Really, tat one would be cool. As long as the person on the other side of me worked for Coyote Ugly and NOT coyote ugly.

The problem with making such a promise like that is whether or not you will be able to stick to it. Once you realize the pressure of the statement, you're more than likely to forget it. every year I said I would stop smoking, I would wind up lighting up another the next day without fail. Nosey McNoserson would then ask, "I thought you said your resolution was to quit smoking this year". Yeah, I said it and now I'm over it. Now shut your pie hole before I shove this pack of Camels right down your throat, you nosey bastard. Yeah, no pressure at all.

However, 2007 was different for me. I didn't make any resolutions. I just said that I'll do better and somehow I did. I decided to go back to school and concentrate more on my studies than I should women. I had a health scare over the summer and would stop smoking completely, although I did have some help thanks to 1mg a day of Chantix. Other than that, I haven't had a smoke in five months as you read this and I think I can keep it up.

The point I'm trying to make here and I promise that there is a point to all of this is that the deadline is now on for a lot of people. 2007 is almost done and 2008 is looking you straight in the eye wondering how you're going to make the most of the year. You got the little respite from Christmas but now it is on like Donkey Kong. You need to get your crap together for the coming year so you'd better get ready to say something whenever that freakin' busybody asks you what you plan on doing for the next year.

Or you can do it like me. Just take it all one day at a time. Take that long, deep breath and let it go. And give the middle finger to anyone that gives you too much pressure to meet a deadline. Okay, well at least not to your editor when he can see you.

Sam Johnson is a Jack-of-all-Trades, Agent Provocateur and fun loving Rouge all rolled up into a big old ball. He can be heard Sundays from Noon to Four on E-93, and has his own blog at www.blaxstone.blogspot.com. You can reach him via email at samjohnson@gmail.com For Christmas, he wants a doggy, a Kenner Give-A-Show projector, a kidney transplant, and Olivia Munn from "Attack of The Show".

Friday, December 14, 2007

Give A Show!

It looks like Christmas has come early for me this year, thanks to an anonymous reader. First let me say that I never really expected anything at all this year as it goes every year, other than a card or two, but his time I think I got the coolest thing I've ever received on nearly thirty years. Also, knowing the identity of the said reader (for sadly, very personal reasons), I would have never thought that would go out of their way just to do this.

This is a Kenner Star Wars Give-A-Show projector from 1978. The version to see above is the Canadian version. I would show off mine, but my camera is down for the moment. Nonetheless, Anonymous found my version on EBay from someone in Canada and had it shipped right to me! I should say that the Canadian did not pack it properly with packing peanuts or even newspaper and just threw it in the box which damaged the container but not the toy. That would almost give me a new reason to blame Canada for something, but I know too many good ones from the North now. Still, the toy was safe and ready to go. I even had to buy D batteries, which I haven't picked up since from a store since high school! The film strips are even in great condition and I wound up having a major flashback of projecting the entire film on my walls! Even in this version, Greedo shot first!

It's nice to relive your childhood memories sometimes with an old toy like this and I know that I will now start looking for other old film strips to play through the projector. Let me wipe my Kool-Ade smile off my face long enough to say thank you to Anonymous again for this wonderful gift and that even though things have become very strange in the past few months, you're still okay in my book. I'm now going to call over some friends and watch Star Wars in a whole new way!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Serve this with your turkey...



My favorite fruit juice is cranberry juice, so last year when Pepsi came out with Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash soda I was thrilled as all get out. The sad part fore is that I have to limit my fluid intake. I also have to remind myself that they only make Cranberry Splash duing the holidays, which really sucks. This year, I have decided to stockpile as many two litre bottles as possible in the kitchen cabinets this go around. If you see it on your self, I sugest you try it out, especially with a splash of ginger ale. You will be refreshed afterwards, I promise.


Mr. Pepsi, if you can read this, please send me five cases for Christmas.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Goody Rickles

By now, most of you have seen the documentary "Mr Warmth", all about Don Rickles and his long career, running this month on HBO. If you haven't, it really is a treat to see the man on stage still at it after so long and getting respect from lots of his peers and newer comics. So after watching it one night, I happened to remember that one of the very first comic books I bought as a kid was Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olson # 141 in 1971 simply for the reason that it had two very familiar characters that I just happen to know one real and one not so real. I'll let you guess which one was which to me.

After seeing the special and having that flashback, thought that I would ask the one man who would know about that comic and that comic, my (sort of, kinda) blogging mentor, Mark Evanier , he of the great News From Me, as he knows all things Jack Kirby, who was the man behind the story and also a man who has seen his share of good and bad stand up after writing for television over the years ( Mark was the only person who made Garfield bearable for me) . So I says to Mark, via email...

I saw the Rickles special again for the second time today and laughed again at how much Don is still Don after all these years. I particularly thought that the story Steve Lawrence told about Rickles doing "Yankee Doodle Dandy" in the middle of his act confirms the complaints in your post. However, being the guy that I am in that I must always ask questions, just how in the world did Don Rickles become part of the Fourth World. I thought I would ask as you worked with King Kirby. Also, did you ever have any contact with Mr. Warmth?

So he says back to me...

No contact. Here's how those issues came about. This is from aforeword I wrote recently for a reprint collection...

Jack's most famous issues of Jimmy Olsen were probably his weirdest.Cartoonist (and Oddball Comics authority) Scott Shaw! called one ofits cover blurbs -- "Don't Ask! Just Buy It!" -- the greatest coverline in the history of comics. And things got even weirder inside.

Here is how this epic came about: Comedian Don Rickles was thenenormously popular, and Steve Sherman and I were big fans of his.Rickles plied his insult humor on many a talk show, forever claimingthat he never picked on a little guy...only on the biggies. Steve andI thought, "Who's bigger than Superman?" So we wrote up someRickles-style insults of Superman and suggested to Jack that DonRickles make a brief cameo appearance in Jimmy Olsen. The idea wasfor him to insult The Man of Steel the way he went after Sinatra.

Jack was also a Rickles fan and he liked the idea. Steve contacted Rickles' press agent and obtained the necessary permission. In the meantime, a press agent working for DC decided it presented tremendousopportunity for publicity...but it had to be cover-featured and runover two issues. That was how Mr. Rickles -- and his look-alike, Mr. Rickels -- wound up in Jimmy Olsen #139 and #141. (No, you're not missing an issuethere. #140 was a non-Kirby reprint special) Steve Sherman and I plotted the Newsboy Legion sub-plot. Jack did everything else and,somewhere along the way, lost track of the original premise. As you'll see, at no point in the story does either version of Don Rickles meet, let alone insult Superman.

But readers loved it. Or hated it. Don Rickles more or less sided with the latter faction, annoyed that the brief appearance he'd okayed had turned into what it turned into. I'm with the "loved it" people, if only because I can see how much fun Jack had doing it.

So that's the story of how Don Rickles came into my life. By the way, if you love a good read, Mark is teaming up with Mad cartoonist and his good friend and collaborator Sergio Aragones for a new version of the comic book classic, The Spirit starting next year. When you pick it up and you want to send the writer an email on how much you liked it, tell Mark I sent ya.

Mr Warmth!


I know what your thinking. You're thinking that this cover is just stupid. Well it is kinda. I'll bet you are also thinking why have I even put it here today? Well, you hockey puck, you're gonna have to wait for later this evening when I gan give you an explanation. Right now though, I got finals today and I just wnated to get this done before I head into Hell. Wish me luck and I'll see you with Don Rickels later tonight.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

"Hey, Love"

I'm about to show you all a classic commercial from the eighties. Now, I know that maybe a HANDFUL of readers can remember Video Soul on BET with host Donnie Simpson from back in the day. If you do, you should remember this 1-800 record ad. If not, get ready to experience one of the coolest ads ever done with some of the smoothest slow jams from the seventies ever done, all by the original artists! I'd like to thank The Humanity Critic for posting this on his My Space blog and I truthfully did not ask him if I could get this from him. However, to paraphrase one of the guys in the commercial, noooo my brotha. I had to get my own. You'll see what I mean.

What had happened this week...

I got up close and personal with a scalpel again on Tuesday. For those who've followed along this far may remember that last year I was admitted to the E.R. for surgery due to clots in my arm where they usually do dialysis and that I had gone to St. Joseph's Hospital at least ten times in 2006 because of it. It happened again for the first time in over a year and a half, so I was at least happy about that when they noticed at the clinic. They quickly booked me for day surgery at the hospital and as soon as I got there, the nurses recognised me immediately. "Oh Mr. Johnson, we'd thought we'd never see you again!," they all said in a semi-humorous tone which reminds me of why I hate hospitals now more than ever. Still, they did their job and got me prepped for the the work to be done to my arm. As soon as I was on the gurney in the O.R. and they put the mask that was filled with goofy juice to knock me out, the surgeons had already begun to do their job and within two hours or so, I was done. Later that night, I was back at home on the couch, stoned out of my gourd with my left arm killing me. The surgeon had prescribed Oxycodone for me to take every six hours, but I only three pills in twenty-four hours since Wednesday and I haven't touched it since and now that is where the big problem lies as I type this.

Because of having the anaesthesia and the Oxycodone still in my system after Tuesday, added with the fact that I still have to take my high blood pressure meds at the same time, I am on a high the likes of which haven't been seen since Cheech and Chong's Nice Dreams. I have been walking on Cloud Ten since then and cannot seem to function properly. I'm worn out and tired even more than usual and I finals this week at school. I haven't been able to study like I should and the added fact that I missed a whole week of classes this week hasn't helped the matter. I shall expect that I'll take the finals anyways still on this legal high but not doing as well I would have with out this problem.

Anyway, that's why I'm just getting around to posting anything until now. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Also, some of you could have called a brotha to see if he was still alive. Dang.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Deadlines

It has been busy this week, especially the past few days. My brother Anthony became ordained as a minister this week and I was supposed to go. However, it happened on a Friday night and I thought it was Sunday. It didn't help that I saw him on Thursday to help him plan for his wife's 50th birthday for Saturday night. Yep, you just have to love family.

Speaking of which, I got to see a few of my sisters Saturday night. Since all my sisters live between Atlanta and Virginia (six of them, by the way) and only Anthony and I still live in our hometown, it's always special whenever we can get together. I gave them all an update on what's been going on im my life and now I've now become the new P.J. O'Rourke. I did show one of my sisters Gwen the "Chicken N' Beer" story, with a little trepidation, but she actually laughed out loud and thought it was great, to my relief. The rest of the girls haven't seen it yet, so I still don't have full family approval. We shall see.

Speaking of the magazine, Tadd of Murmur called me yesterday afternoon as I was helping to set up for the party at the center with a rambling voice message. It turned out that the cover story wasn't going to see print as planned and he would be heading out of town early Monday for Vegas (lucky bastard) and needed something to fill in before he left so could I please, PLEASE come up with a piece for the December issue? There was lots of cussing in the call, but I understood what he said so I called him and let him know I'll see what I could do, despite the family. I knocked out the first paragraph later that night around 12:30 am or so, went to bed and finished it up this morning with over 1,000 words to Tadd's enjoyment. The essay, "Deadline 2008" (temporay title t.f.n.) will be in this month's Murmur in two weeks, with an online version to follow soon here.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

El Globo Rojo

I hope you had a wonderful Turkey day as much as I did. I wound up having to go to dialysis early that day, however I did get a chance to get a plate from my brother that day before I got home to pass out, so it worked out well (See rule # 2 in "Chicken N' Beer").

Just a couple of things I need to mention here. First, the appearence of Savannah's litle magazine that could, Murmur Magazine's editor Tadd Trubb on TLC's Trading Spaces Saturday night as he and his friend Julie switched homes and remade them . Tadd told me about this on Tuesday, to which I just laughed out loud. When I saw the show last night, I laughed even more. The houses look great, but those decorators were jackholes, especially the women. Sorry, but I couldn't stand 'em, encluding the time one of the ladies thought that an fugly assed piece of fur would look great as a rug. You'll just have to watch the show. I hear that old host Paige is coming back as they try to revamp the program, which is fine since I never really watched it in the first place. If you like the show, give this one a watch. Check your listings as I am not TV Guide.

After the freakiness of the Thanksgiving trailer, I thought it was time to get back to normal here, so I'm posting a very special movie here today. If anyone over the age of thirty-five remembers The CBS Children's Film Festival hosted by Kukla, Fran and Ollie, they ran films that came from all over the world such as Digby, The World's Biggest Dog and other such films that were badly dubbed but made for kids. There was one that stood out of them all called The Red Balloon, about a little Paris boy and a red balloon that gives him such joy. It was just over thirty minutes long, there was barely any dialouge if any and was a great short film, from start to finish. It's being rereleased in varoius cities across the country along with another classic White Mane, about a boy and a horse and both have been remastered for today's audiences. For those of you who won't have a chance to see it on the big screen, anyone who saw it with a bowl of cereal in the Seventies, or you've enver seen it before, then I think you will enjoy a wonderful story about the plesent bliss of childhood and how an imagination can make a best friend out of anything.

PART ONE


PART TWO


PART THREE


PART FOUR

Friday, November 23, 2007

"This year, there wil be no leftovers."

I had to come into work today to prerecord my show and I wanted to post something special for Thanksgiving. I'm glad that I posted it the day after since this video would probably creep you out if you had a good dinner. That being said, since I thought Grindhouse was one of the best movie experiences of the year, I wanted to share with you a faux trailer from the movie named Thanksgiving, directed by Eli Roth. Now, I'm not really a horror movie fan, or at least whatr they call horror these days, what with all the slashign and hacking. Hell, Roth created the Saw and Hostel franchises. However, this is one fake movie trailer that lives up to it's name. I just wish the scary flicks of today would just be made just like this: In three minutes and a creepy voice over and let it be done. Anyway, I hope you like it, at least those who can take the sick humor of it, which of course has BLOODY SCENES, NUDITY, SEXUAL SITUATIONS, AND A CREEPY VOICEOVER GUY. So, keep the kids away.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

If Anybody Asks

I hope that you liked the "Chicken N' Beer" essay and I know that there will be more to come in the future. Just not right now. It seems that my laptop has seen its last days sadly and so I'm back to just writing for the weekends till further notice or I get a new lappy. Do me a favor: Have a great Thanksgiving, don't eat too much green bean casserole and enjoy life. I'll check back in with you this weekend so see how fat we all got.

By the way, I will be doing Number 2 as I have dialysis Thursday. It could not be avoided, but at least I'm not at the radio station this year.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Freedom from Want: Chicken N' Beer

Ahhh, Thanksgiving.

The nice cool temperatures, the look of children at the New York City Parade, the smell of great food. If it weren't for the fact that everything else was so messed up about the holiday, it would be the perfect day. First up, the Whites took the land from the Native Americans and royally screwed them from that point on. Now when it's celebrated, families gather around the table only to destroy relations forever, someone has to say something to piss off somebody in the family after a few slices of turkey, which contains tryptophan, which is a chemical that makes folks sleepy and could cause them to do some dumb crap.

You've seen it before, because it may have happened at your own home. You get the third degree from the 'rents about your future and you tell them that you plan on being a stand up comic one day and your father thinks that you should stick with the family business and become a television repairman because that what he does and he's busted his ass for years to put food on the table and you tell him you don't want to sweat behind a TV and nobody fixes them anymore anyway, so he tells you that you are no son of his and you should jut get up from the table and just get the Hell out of his house for you are an ungrateful bastard and you tell him he can take that turkey leg and sit on it and you leave.

At least, that's how I remember it. I was drunk from the turkey when it happened. It could have been worse. There could have been guns involved, I dunno. My family is friggin' nuts like that.

All of this makes one wonder, what should one do for Thanksgiving when there's no Thanksgiving around? I would think that the average reader of this little piece wouldn't have the chance or opportunity to spend time with the family and won't have the chance to leave the Coastal Empire without the chance to celebrate. For those who've never been in Savannah for the holiday season and is used to a cold, crisp season, well you can just let that go right now. I'll bet you a penny that the temperature gets between sixty and seventy degrees, so other than the streets being quieter than normal it won't feel like your normal holiday. After that has mulled in your head, what should you do then? Well, that is why TV's Sam Johnson in here, kiddo. I got a few ideas that could ensure you have a safe and happy holiday.

ONE: Stock up now. If you go to the grocery store now or at least the night before Thanksgiving and just pick up a few things (turkey breasts, can of cranberry sauce, Stove Top Stuffing, can of veggies of your choosing, pumpkin/sweet potato pie), you should be in the clear. However, this magazine is free and you picked it up from inside The King's Inn or The Jinx or someplace, which means you're cheap and don't like to pay for anything, sooooo…

TWO: Mooch. Look, it is what it is. Somebody's got to be cooking something that day and you just want a plate of green bean casserole (someone tell me why that is a staple in Caucasian homes, please), so the best thing to do is make friends fast if you have none, so you need to do what you need to do to get your Food Jones on. Do this at least one month ahead of time at your local watering hole for your best opportunity and a good seat at the table. Once you're there however, there could be some dysfunction served along with the mashed potatoes, so be warned now before taking this step.

Also, you may have to date below your caste on order to get a good meal. I knew a guy once who dated a girl just to get a hold of her infamous red velvet cake that she only made on Thanksgiving and the moment he finished his slice he told her it was the greatestcake he had ever had and dropped her like a Hot Pocket fresh out of the microwave. Sure, it's cruel and inhumane to dump someone during the holidays, but you gotta eat and there is nothing that is going to come between you and red velvet cake now, is there? By the way, both sexes count in this, so ladies take heed. If his momma cooks that day, dump him on Black Friday.

THREE: Make a party of it. That may be your best bet right there. If you have a group of friends that won't be able to make it to their families that day, then get them together for one big ol' Turkey Day Jammie-Jam. Don't get dressed up because you already know these slackers and are in the same boat as them. Start the day in pajamas with the gang coming over while the parade is on and have some snacks and stuff while the turkey cooks. Everyone volunteers to bring at least one dish enjoy so you don't have to do all the cooking. Hell, if it's your place then you do the bird and they can bring all the sides they want.

Or better still, do what some friends and I did last year and have a chicken and beer party that day. Instead of turkey, a bunch of us got a few boxes of chicken, biscuits and sides from Bojangles on Derene (they were the only chicken joint open that day, so you may not get that lucky), stocked up on a few cases the night before and celebrated the day. By the time it was over, could not leave Wilmington Island, but that was because someone brought a special "desert" just for that night. Good times, good times for all…

FOUR: Wait till the next day. Somebody has to have leftovers on Friday. Sit down, shut up and on the day after, they'll be sick of looking at it clog up the refrigerator and you shall be rewarded. It's kind of like mooching, 'cept different.

I hope that these tips serve you well during the Thanksgiving holiday. These are also good during Christmas, Chanukah and any holiday where lots of food is served (Kwanza never has any good food). As for my plans for the day, I'm going to go with number two as I'll probably have to work that day and I know that my sister-in-law is cooking that day for my brother and their family and they'll have banana pudding for desert and not a green bean casserole in site.

Sam Johnson is a full time student at South University, a weekend DJ on E-93 Sundays from Noon to 4PM, hosts karaoke at various bars around Savannah, and has blogs at http://www.blaxstone.blogspot.com and http://www.myspace.com/blaxstone He would like to come to your house for Thanksgiving next year.

My thanks to Tadd Trueb and Murmur Magazine for this chance to show off my tryptophanic style of writing. You're the man, T-$

Friday, November 16, 2007

News From Me

First, a heads up that my essay from Mumur Magazine "Freedom of Want: Chicken and Beer" will be reprinted here this Sunday.I've gotten good response from folks who've read it and you'll get to give yours this Sunday.

Also, I'd like to add my support to the members of the Writer's Guild of America. I wrote and produced my own little dog and pony TV show Underground Savannah years ago and know how some of the members who are also show runners feel at the moment, so my heart and prayers go out to them. If you wondering how things are going for the W.G.A. I can give you a heads up on three blogs. Mark Evanier, of course, is a veteran member and has been though a writer's strike before, so his News From Me site gives some valuable information that folks who don't understand why the stike is happening have a better insight. Tony Figuroa's Child of Television has links to various sites of bloggers who are also in solidarity, plus video of various strikes in Hollywood and New York. Finally, Late Show Writers On Strike is the weblog of the writers of The Late Show With David Letterman, with daily observations while they're on stike and off the air. It's funny and if you miss Dave's monolouge, not to worry as you'll get one good joke out of each post. Which is funny, because I thought Leno had writers, too. I wonder who's picketing for him and Jimmy Kimmel? The manatees who write for Family Guy?

I kid, I kid. All my best to the W.G.A. and I hope this all ends soon.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

AHEM....

Let it be therefore known that on this day of Our Lord in the year 2007 that Samuel Marquieth Johnson has changed the blogroll link of Thrilling Days of Yesteryear, created by Ivan G. Schreve (the "G" stands for "grouchy") to its new home on Blogger. The fact that I had to be shamed on Pandora's comment page is mean, just mean, man. However, it is now done and all parties should be happy. May he have a joyous time here and look out for the gift pack of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies Google sends out to new members.

Also, I stole Ivan's idea for a music player and have my own at the top right of your screen, featuring music from Deam Martin, Eric B and Rakim, Elvis Costello, Ben's Brother, The Time and more. Give it a play nad let me know what you think.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

And now, A Sam News Update!

Okay, time to update y'all on a few things going on in Casa De Sam-a-rama. Just to let you all know, it has been a busy and trying week for me. Some of you know off line may know what that deals with that I really don't want to discuss here on the site for the moment, but let's just say that the situation has been taken care of and I did receive an apology from all but the the main party. I do hope to rectify that shortly as they now realize the mistake that they made. Once the situation has finally been resolved, then I will finally discuss it here.

Now, on to more sunnier news. I've been doing this blogging thing for a few years now and never really thought of myself as a professional writer, although I've seen many bloggers go one to receive book deals based on the works. I don't know if I'm on the road to that but I have gotten my first published piece in this month's Murmur Magazine. Murmur is a free local monthly slick that features music and culture here in Savannah and I was asked by the editor/publisher/bottle washer Tadd "T-$" Trubb if I would like to write an essay for an upcoming issue after reading my My Space blog and I took up the challenge that Monday night and had it ready that Wednesday. The piece is intitled "Freedom of Want: Chicken and Beer" (T-$'s idea) and is about what to do on Thanksgiving when you're single and you're looking for grub that day. Although there's been some publication problems from what T-$ told me this week, the mag should be hitting the streets this week. For those who don't live in the area however and would like to read the essay, I'll have it up next Sunday right here for your pleasure.

Also happening this week is my new gig as Kareoke host at Club One on Whitaker each Wednesday from 10 pm until 3am. If anyone has no clue of what Club One is, then let's break it down this way. Did you see the movie "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" or read the book? Okay, so one of the main characters in it is someone named The Lady Chablis. See, The Lady (as she is wont to be called) is a performer. Although, she was born a HE and Club One is where The Lady performs often. Yes, Club One is a gay bar. No, I am not gay either, if you are wondering. But I do have to say that the crowd that shows up to sing is one of the best I've ever seen. So, whether you're gay or straight, you really need to come on down this and every Wednesday night. I promise that you will not be disappointed.

Okay, that's all I got for now. Other than the reminder that I'm on E-93 every Sunday from Noon to 4, I'd doing somewhat okay on classes this quarter and I'm doing my best to drop that weight, that's all I got for now. This has been a Sam-a-rama News Update!

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Tonight on a very special episode of Sam-a-rama...

It's a very special episode of The Facts of Life, when Tootie learns that when you party too hard, it could lead to trouble and it's up to Mrs. Garrett to help her. The best part is it all happens in less than five minutes. Enjoy!

Check out this video: Facts of Life - Let’s Party



Add to My Profile | More Videos

I have become a coffee fiend...


I became a coffee drinker in 1991 at the age of twenty-five. I was working overnights at Oldies 98.3 in Savannah and had nothing else to drink at the time to keep me awake. Somehow, I fell fell in love with the stuff, even though coffee makers at work always seem to suck. Either the coffee pot is never cleaned properly, or the coffee stays on the warmer for way too long and the smell of old java goes though the air and smells like burnt beans, or the coffee just plain blows because you're forced to drink it the way some office monkey made it to where it's too weak or too strong. You want to make a large Black guy mad as a rhino with something in its eye? Mess up the coffee. Go ahead. I dare you.

Last month at the radio station, the new market manager decided that the plain, boring maker had to go and brought in a Keurig Coffee Maker for the office. It's similar to the one in the photo above, except the one we have is just a little bigger. It still does the same as the the above and that is it makes single-serving cups of coffee. The way it's done is it accepts cartridges of various coffee, tea, even hot chocolate called K-Cup Portion Packs then pours the amount of hot water needed to make it as strong or as weak as you want it. It's as close as the perfect cup as a person will ever get. Because of that, I have become a caffeine fiend.

Just let me say that this machine has now made it bearable for me to even walk into the job these days. I now plan out my Sunday mornings around the new coffee maker. I refuse to even make coffee at home or even of I go out to breakfast if I know that I will be around the Keurig that day. On Sunday, I had two 6 oz. cups of Green Mountain Dark Roast. It was like Heaven and all the angels smelled of fresh coffee. Because of that, I wound up with a concentrated coffee high that had me buzzed all day and most of the night. As I write this, I have had two cups of Sumatrian and one cup of cappuchino and that should keep me up and awake long enough for me to make through classes today. I wish I didn't have to leave, but I have to get my education. I just wish I could take the coffee maker with me so we could be friends forever. It has become the only thing left at my job that seems to understand me and my troubles. If I could, I'd take it out for its own cup of joe for all the hard work that it's done. But it would just complain because the other guy's coffee wouldn't match up to the Keurig's high standards. Then it would call out the manager of the restaurant and bitch the guy out for making warmed over brown water and a fight would break out because the manager called the Keurig a German punk and I'd have to protect the machine's honor. This would be good for no one.

I had some time to think that out. However, it's because I've had too much coffee at the moment. Until then, I am gonna ride this high like John Force on a blacktop today. I'll check in later tonight. I need more Black Heaven.

I wonder if we can get a Cinnibon machine here at work too?

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Hail To Da Chief

It's very early in the morning here in Savannah and I'm just barely there right now. I'm at the radio station filling in for someone who can't seem to do the job well. But enough of that, as we have more pressing matters today. As most of you may know, I am a member of The League of Savannah Bloggers, formed in 2005. Ivan G. Shreve, who you may know from his own blog Thrilling Days of Yesteryear (the "G" stands "goody-goody") is also a member, so it's really just the two of us. There used to be three members, but the third guy was shady. Anyhoo, I got this comment this morning after enjoying my first espresso at work...

Sam, I received a bill in today's mail totalling $16,973.52 for charges...and damages...incurred at some swanky Las Vegas hotel for what appears to be listed as "League Of Savannah Bloggers BootyFest 2007."

Needless to say, I found this a bit disturbing--only because you saddled me with the presidency the other day and a glancing-over of the League's treasury yielded a shirt button and three Canadian pennies.

I tried to call your cell phone number today but all I get is a voice saying the number is "unreachable." And while I don't want to say anything before all the facts are in, this naturaly has me a bit concerned. Should I be?

Okay, first let me say that while I enjoyed my two year reign as President/Strongman of the L.O.S.B, I felt as though Ivan deserved the spot as he has moved from his old site to a new, sunnier page here with Blogger. He even has a photo of his own bad self on the page. So, effective last Sunday, I relinquished my role as Leader/Visionary and gave it to Ivan, but only for a year. 'Cause like, I might want it back after that. However after these claims, I must answer them point by point.

I am not sure why I was charged $16,973.52. Everything was good until the rumpshakers showed up. I got them at a discount because I had a coupon for 30% off. But then, Cris Angel, The Mindfreak showed up and screwed it up for everyone. He got piss drunk, told evceryone he could make the televsion on the wall disapear and tossed it out of the 21st story window of the Bellagio. He started screaming "MINDFREAK!" and started running around the room like Daffy Duck whooping and jumping around. I don't even want to get into the orangutan, the chocolate pudding and Louie Anderson. It all reminded me of the Fatty Arbuckle debacle and it gives me shivers just writing about it.

As for the treasury, I never asked for dues from anyone. I have a hard enough time asking foir folks to drop something in the Pay Pay bucket. However, there was more there than Ivan thought. I had at least two kuggerands, sixteen steel pennies, an RC Cola bottle cap, and a button from the Abe Vigoda Fan Club that was gathered during my tenure. However, since my time as Spiritual Guide/Grand Poobah of the L.O.S.B. as now over and I have given all responsiblities to Ivan, I have washed my hands of the whole "Bootyfest 2007" debacle. Besides, the Mindfreak said he would make the bill disapear. I can't see why Ivan even has the bill.

All I'm saying is, if you get a bill from the guy who manages Outkast and it's for a "It's Ivan's Turn" party, pay that brotha upfront first or it is my ass. Good luck on your year.

I need another espresso...

Sunday, November 04, 2007

What happens when you are on a caffeine buzz...

I get this kinda junk in the bulletins on My Space all the time and folks expect me to send out a bulletin just like this. A bulletin is for when someone dies or the news is really important. If Edward R. Murrow were alive and he found out the the term "bulletin" was used like this, he'd be pissed the Hell off. Anyway, I better do this before my high goes away.

It was just two cups of dark roast esspresso at work that did it, kids...

Hi, my name is:

Samuel M. Johnson

but you can call me:

Dreamcrusher, Grumpy McLump-lump, Earl Hoffert

Never in my life have I:

Been to Europe

The one person who can drive me nuts is:

Me

My high school was:

Alfred E. Beach High School

When I'm nervous:

Start to st-st-stutter

The last song I listened to was:

I'm on the radio right now and listening to stuff I didn't even program today! Gucci Mane, really?

If I were to get married right now it would be to:

Let's just say that Allyson Hannigan and Halle Berre know who they are...

My hair is:

on my body. C'mon...

When I was 4:

I was a child. That and too short to get the cookies off the shelf.

Last Christmas:

sucked

l'd be:

sleeping

When I look down I see:

the floor

The happiest recent event was:

Hangin out in Brea last wednesday. Actually I stole that from the last guy who did this. I dunno what he did in Brea last Wenesday, but if it made him happy, I should really check it out...

If I were a character on LOST:

Larry, the guy who keeps wondering where Gilligan and Mary Ann are.

By this time next year:

I will be doing something as stupid as this on a caffeine buzz as well.

My current mood is:

READ THE LAST THING I WROTE! SHEESH! Some people...

I have a hard time understanding:

The success of Kim Kardashian. Oh, I forgot...She has a big ass.

There's these girls:

that all graduated from the police acadamy. They were three lovely girls. Now, they work for me. My name is Charlie.

If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be:

Al Gore. And I'd tell him to suck on that.

I want to buy:some new comic books. And a Slushie. And a good steak.

Where do you plan to visit:

Dreamland. I can't afford much else these days

If you spent the night at my house:

you'd make yer own damn breakfast and wash yer own dishes!

The world could do without:Star Jones and "Cavemen"

Most recent thing I've bought myself:Some time

Most recent thing someone else bought me:A burger. Cheap bastard. It was a Krystal.

My middle name is:Marquieth. Yeah, that's Black enough for you.

In the morning I:shake my fist and rue the day.

Last night I was:Watching "The Producers-The Musical" for the fifth time. I AM NOT GAY. I just like Mel Brooks.

There's this guy I know:

who is a loving, forgiving person who forgets your sins. His name is The Frankenstein Monster. He's gone good now...

If I was an animal I'd be a:

monkey. Because MONKEYS ARE COOL.

A better name for me would be:

William H. Cosby, III. For the money

Tomorrow I am:

doing too much crap.

Tonight I am:

coming down from my high

I wish:

I had a Cinnibon to go with this coffee!

Thursday, November 01, 2007

KTZ IZ FUNNY!

They win. Dammit, LOL Cats win. It's too damn cute.


lolcats funny cat pictures

I'm a large Black man. I shouldn't be affected by cuteness. Dang.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

"Goin' to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches"

First, let me wish you all a happy Halloween and you got your scare on today. If you planned me doing the day up, let me send you to a previous post from April about my adventures in The Haunted Mansion that will send a chill down your spine because it's true. However, today we talk fruit. I blame Stephen Colbert for all of this trouble...

It you are a normal reader, first let me say Bless You for that. Second, how do you put up with the craziness? Have you read the comments lately? This has gotten ridiculous now. Look, I say that Georgia peaches are the best peaches in the world and South Carolina's are not. Although, I did find this online, via Peach County.

Fresh Georgia peaches are available only 16 weeks each year, from mid-May to August. Although Georgia is still called the Peach State, it actually ranks third in United States peach production behind California and South Carolina, though Georgia peaches are arguably the sweetest and tastiest grown anywhere. In 2001, the Georgia peach crop totaled 140 million pounds and brought in $35 million.

First, let me say to Ivan ( member of The League Of Savannah Bloggers and who has finally made it to Blogger with a new vision for Thrilling Days of Yesteryear), I will stand my ground on the Ga. Peach. That goes for the Vidalia Onion and the peanut! They are from Georgia, along with The Allman Brothers! Greg Allman lives in Richmond Hill! His cousin Annie has a music store downtown! HA! HA, I said! Also, Swan Shadow (who is not officially a member of The League Of Savannah Bloggers, but would be if he lived here) should be ashamed for eating peaches from the can. I prefer my peaches fresh from the tree. Truthfully, it's how I grew up. I may be a semi-city kid, but I remember going to the country to pick up a fresh bushel or two of peaches that were as sweet and juicy as could be, right here in Georgia. Yes, we may be in third but our peaches rocked! Which we now segue into...

The Presidents Of The United States Of America and their song "Peaches". The lyrics are nuts and the plot for this clip goes nowhere. Kind of like this post today.

Oh, I almost forgot before I start the video...HI, MONKEY!

Like I said, Faithful Reader...Bless You for putting up with this nuttiness.








Monday, October 29, 2007

THREATDOWN!


I did not want to do this, but the man has given me no choice. Effective immediatly, I hereby retract my decision to support Stephen Colbert as President of the United States. On Sunday in a speech given in his home state of South Carolina, Colbert stated that "I promise, if elected, I will crush the state of Georgia". Also, "Our peaches are more numerous than Georgia's," he said. "They are more juiciful."


First of all, the city of Savannah has been a rival of Charleston for over 200 years. Of course, we look much better and our city smells better than theirs. By the way, I heard they got an STD from Charlotte, North Carolina, but you didn't hear it from me.


Second, whenever peaches are even mentioned in a conversation, it's always about Georgia peaches. Even Southern women are called Georgia peaches who aren't even from Georgia. You ever hear of a Southern woman called a South Carolina peach? No, because they are sour and filled with worms.


Stephen Colbert, pronounced COL-BURT from this day forward, you have upset me to the fullest with your acquations and lies about my fair state and challenge you to an old fashioned Southern Duel. You have not only besmirched my honor, but also the honor of the millions people who call the Fair and Beautiful state of Georgia home, by God. You have now recieved my Wag of the Finger and it is in the middle of my hand, sir.


In other words: It's on now, bee-yotch.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Video Soul

Okay, here's more videos for ya. CHeck out my favorite new song this month. Mark Ronson featuring the voice of AMy Winehouse ( maybe she was drunk when they were shooting this?) and "Valerie".


Here's a classic Tex Avery Ccartoon that should have you literally die laughing as the guy in "Symphony in Slang" did.


Finally, to complement the Quisp commercial I ran last week, here's a classic Captian Crunch Ad featuring the first appearence of Jean LeFoot, the Barefoot Pirate. I posted this in the one below but was haing prblems so I put it here. Enjoy 'em all, of course with a good balanced breakfast!

Video Soul

I've got midterms this week and a term paper due tomorrow, so instead of thinking I'm posting some vids today. First up is possibly one of the greatest, if not craziest plays in college football ever, and it only happened yesterday. Count all the laterals in this...


Next, if you haven't been watching 30 Rock on Thursday nights, you are missing one of the funniest shows on TV this season, hands down. It's already into its fourth show of the year so far and Alec Baldwin hit one out of the park this week on a classic bit with Tracy Morgan. Say what you will abou the guy's personal life, but he is one of the five funniest men on tv today, and that includes Stephen Cobert, Jon Stewart, Steve Carrell and that guy from FEMA last week who did that fake press conference. Way to go, FEMA! You guys are on top of the job once again!


Here's a link to the commercial that intoduces Quisp and Quake to kids across America. Quaker still makes Quisp these days, but only sells it in limited areas and online. The site is cool and has a cartoon done by John K. of Ren and Stimpy fame that brings the Quazy Engery Cereal back from the dead.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Keep On Dancin'

After watching "Happy Feet" on HBO last night (Savion Glover is The Man!), I decided to step out of the house for an hour or two. My drive lead me to Doubles at the Holiday Inn midtown, which I haven't been to in a good while. I caught up with DJ Sam Diamond who was on the ol' ones and twos for the crowd but nursing a busted ankle, so his girlfriend Holly was there to help out. I also caught up with bar staff, specifically Kurt and Cindy. It was Cindy who asked me how in the world could I keep up a blog like I do and continue to do the other stuff. So today, your reporter is putting you behind the scenes of this dog and pony show.

Fisrt of all, it's amazing that I'm able to do anything these days what with dialysis three days a week. Yesterday, I went into the clinic at seven in the morning because I was asked by Sam if I could come in that night for a few. Yes, it was hell in that chair for four and a half hours, but I made it through. Mind you, I hosted kareoke the night before at Captain's Lounge till 3AM with only four singers the whole night and I had nearly lost my voice filling time singing ( I did Jeffery Osborne's "Stay With Me Tonight" at one point), so it was a busy twenty four hours. I'll be doing the same thing next weekend as I'm at Captain's again on Saturday night for their Halloween party, then Sunday I'll do my weekly show on E-93 from Noon to 4PM. Add on to the fact that I have a full load of classes this quarter for school and it all adds up the fact that I have taken up the title "hardest working man" since James Brown died on Christmas.

There's no secret to how the heck I'm doing this. It's simply one part faith to two parts crazy energy. I figured out last year that if I just sit there like a rock, I'm just gonna get bored, so the best thing for me to do is stay busy. I don't know about anyone else with end stage renal failure, but I don't want to wallow the whole time. I want a life and the ony way for me to get that is get up and go. I envy the folks out there, 100% healthy, who have the chance to get out there and enjoy life to the fullest, but I can't stand the ones who just sit back and let life fly them and watch as they don't take advantage of it. I just need to keep occupied with other things or I'll bitch and moan on the couch about everything on this website and no one wants that, really. Trust me, reader. You really don't want that.

All I'm saying is if you have the chance and you just come to this page and you really don't much else afterwards, then let me envoke the words of the great William Shatner and get a life. There is so much to do out there and you can't let it go by. Keep dancing or at some point you'll miss your groove. It is as simple as that.

By the way, while I'm writing this I am also at work as we speak on E-93, so it's a bit of multitasking here. Like I said, I got crazy engery like a bowl of Quisp.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Colbert-Huxtable in '08!

He's gonna run. Would you vote for him?
By the way, I think Cliff Huxtable would be a good running mate. Better than nothing, or at least Dennis Kucinich.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

The Human Target


On November of 2004, I wrote a post on this very site about how Target department stores are evil. You may read that post here. Since then, I have not been to a Target for anything. That's right...I fought the temptation for low prices and quality prices for years, for Target has everything you need. Need a new coffee maker, they got it. Need a good hat, they got it in your size. Only Satan could run a store like this, so to save me soul I never looked back and stayed away. Until now.

Last Thursday, The Dark Lord opened the doors to a brand new Target just five minutes away from my home on Victory Drive. Ironically, this was location for the town's first K-Mart until it was torn down two years ago. Since then, Home Depot, Staples and other stores made their way as agents of the Enemy to see his way through. During the grand opening, many Savannians sold their souls for a Red Card for even bigger discounts. Ol' Jack Scratch is a dark one, but at least he'll cut you a break or two on sneakers.

Before I walked into the store, I gave myself three Hail Marys and crossed myself over and over, but there was nothing I could do. It was like when the priest walked into the room in "the Excorcist, execpt without all the vomit and stuff. The looks on the shoppers faces reminded me of zombies on the verge with buggies in the hands. I knew that I had to stay stong, even if I saw a 72' flatscreen LCD TV for $799.00. Sure, I only had thirty bucks on me and I would have busted my debit card wide open, but c'mon! That was a bargin! Damn you, Satan!

Monday, October 08, 2007

Chocolate Thunder

Okay, so this has been on the web now for just over a month now, but I just wanted to share this with you. There's a British advert(we calls 'em commercials) for Cadbury's Dairy Chocolate that has a gorilla playing the drums to Phil Collins' "In The Air Tonight" that is fantastic.



That was pretty cool. Now, take that same video and remix it with some cool old school style rap and it's an even bigger winner!



What say ye on the vids, Dramatic Chipmunk?



Man, that chipmunk still makes me laugh.

Saturday, October 06, 2007

Like A Porsche On Blocks

I had planned on writing about how from this point on, I plan on stopping my verbal abuse of Britney Spears because it's gotten to the point that even she doesn't even care anymore about anything to do with reality. Her life has become a sad little joke played out before the public and it's not too long before she possibly blows up after the self destruct switch gets yanked. Before I'm done with the pop princess however, I have a few things I'd like to say about dating and the opposite sex. Don't worry, ladies. I will be as fair as possible with this.

It came to me last night in a vision, first of all. I had been at home most of the day and into the night trying to get caught up on my first week of Fall classes with homework, when it hit me like a slap in the back of the head. I need to be out there having fun on Friday night instead of having to sit at home doing all of this paper work. After all, I deserve it for all the work I've put in this week. I need to meet some ladies and have some fun. Then after a while of mulling this over, I thought about that. Once I go out and meet someone and my conquest is successful at some point, I'm going to have to tell her about the whole kidney thing at some point, which one or two things will happen. Either the person is going to understand fully what I'm going through and do what they can to make things easy for the both of us or they just say it's too much to deal with. Think about this for a minute or so. Say you were single and there was someone who you thought was attractive enough for you for you to possibly go out with them and you find out that they have some sort of skeleton in their closet that you may not be able to deal with. Everybody has something they haven't told the other person that could hold them back. Eddie Murphy put it best: "Hell, some people got graveyards in their closet."

As the cryptkeeper of my own yard, let me say that for the record that I finally realize the real reason I don't date much anymore. First of all, I really don't feel like all the drama. Every woman I've dated over the years has been nominated for an Emmy for their performances that could make any Meryl Streep scene look like a first grade school play. Anyone who has heard me tell them all about The 2007 St. Patrick's Day Massacre knows exactly what I'm talking about (Oh, you haven't heard that story yet? I will be telling it soon for Sweeps Month). I really understand that you have a crappy life at the moment, but walk a mile in these size thirteens for a few. Yes, I know it may be vain of me to say it but think about it. The crap I'm going through trumps mostly all the other stuff. Bad spouses, lousy jobs, broke all the time, stupid friends, just the crap people can actually control, yet they don't. Unless they or their child is sick or deathly ill, I compleatly understand. However, if you have a stupid job that has just made your life a living hell and now you must make someone else's life as bad as yours, I will look at you as if you are crazy, tell you you are crazy, then try to plot a way to get out the Hades Bar and Grill without you knowing.

Which goes back to the beginning and Britney. Here is this good looking woman who has gone bat shite crazy. It could be from all the pressure of fame and the fact that because she is good looking, she is going to get all the attention she feels she wants. However, this is also now a woman with an affliction I have heard called "Crazy Eyes". They look really great, but as you get closer and closer to them, you see this thing in their eyes that doesn't look right. It may be loose gears or it could be a little person with a pick ax, but either way it just doesn't look right. Something is wrong with that person and nothing you can do other than a year in rehab, heavy medication, shock therapy and a Scared Straight session with either a reformed Crip or a Blood can fix that person. Britney has had the Crazy Eyes for years and it was just a matter of time before everyone would notice. From this point on, any person she dates will look at her a little more closely now if and when she gets herself together years from now. It could happen in a romantic little restaurant where Brit-Brit is sitting with her new date and they ask her if there's anything special about her, she goes into how she shaved her head and you can see that left eye of hers jumping around.

This is why I don't want to date anymore.

Of course, I am writing all this crap at six in the morning on a Saturday and I haven't had a cup of coffee yet.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Mighty Morphin Power Sam

I miss doing the daily updates, so I can talk about how stupid O.J. and how we just follow along with his antics like a rabid Snoopy in "Peanuts" or the latest on Britney Spears. Then again, I think I've been spared from all of the crap from whomever the the patron saint of blogs is. Still, I hate to be the subject of the recent posts these days. It seems like a kind of an ego stroke to me, but as some famous writer once said (Perry White? Oscar Madison?) "write what you know". On now to this week's thrilling chapter.

I think this whole road to self improvement is coming along well this week. I've heard words of encouragement from many folks out there, which I think is fantastic amd hope it doesn't stop from there. I do plan on doing my part as there are loads of folks I haven't talked to in a while, so a "pay it forward" sort of thing is due to many of the people who stopped and left a note.

As for the weight problem, I've been working out now at three to four times a week and I can already see improvements on that. The thing that freaks me about working out is that I start to feel like I'm about to go through some sort of transformation, which I know is suppose to happen. However, the transformation is that of The Incredible Hulk. I know this sounds stupid, but here me out on this. On my father's side, I come from a family of muscle bound men. 100% natural, all solid men with no by products, that's how they were until it stopped with me. As soon as I discovered beer and smokes at the age of eighteen however, that lineage was over with. I mean, really. Y'all should have been there for it, Jheri Curls and all. The bad part of all of the partying was that I would soon gain loads and look like Al Roker. Now, with working out as much as I have been the past few weeks, my muscle tones are starting to show up around my shoulders and I'm starting to feel like I should be walking on my knuckles the way my arms hang now. Still, I promise that I won't start flexing around folks when this said and done and there will be no topless photos of me when I hit my goal. Sorry to anyone who actually wanted to see me in that state of undress, but I'm not putting me or anyone through that. But, if you are that person, you must be smoking corn husks or something.

On the days that I'm not working out or going to dialysis, I'll be returning to with three classes this go around. I hope to do well this time by not having any strokes for the first part and making sure that car works as well. Looking back at the start of this year, it's hard to believe that I've been a college student and how far I've gotten since January and that in less than 9 months, I now have a 3.0 G.P.A. which still blows my mind just writing about it. Remember, I turned into Bluto Blutarsy once I hit eighteen, so at forty-one all of this is just an amazing feat to me. By the way, still no algebra in the mix this time, so I think I'm spared once again until it's time.

In the long run, this whole makeover is a joy and scary at the same time but it is something that is long overdue. This is a completely new road I'm going down that there for me to cross years ago, but I'm just heading down that way now. If I can just get over al the potholes and bad traffic along the way, I should have a smooth ride for a good long time.

I hate cliches' by the way, but could think of no other way to finish this entry. I told you I hate writing about me...

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Sing Along With Sammy

A couple of weeks ago or two essays down, I talked about the pitfalls of kareoke. Since then, I 've gotten a lot of response from it so I thought I'd give you all a bit of an update.

Last Friday, I did another fill in hosting job for my friends at the hole in the wall redneck bar. The turnout was on the deadside since there was a severe thunderstorm warning for the area and you know that alcohol and water don't mix well together. I was feeling just a little bit better than I have in the past few weeks (thank you, Prozac!), but everyone in the bar was in there grumpy mood that wasn't made better thanks to the weather. Everyone decided they wanted to sing depressing ballads which was killing me. It didn't mater if they could hold a note or not, these were drunks with issues this night. I did my best to get them excited, but I couldn't get them more revved up, to parephrase John Cleese, if I threw 100, 000 volts up their bum. It got to the point where no one wanted to sing and I had to do something so I did.

At one point, there was a large drunk woman who decided to grab the mic at a point where I was using my patented snappy patter to get folks to do a tune when she out of the blue started doing an alcoholic version of Billy Vera and The Beaters "At This Moment" acapella. I nicely told the woman that we do have the song in the kareoke song list and all she would have to do is find it along with her name and the song number listed and I'll be happy to bring her up. To which told me that she didn't want to look for it. I sat her down and did my best compose myself on how to deal with this crowd when I decided to the song myself.

Now, anyone who knows the song knows that "At This Moment" is a very soulful tune that requires a lot of power behind it when it's sung. It needs to be done from the heart as well as the lungs and if you just sing in the shower, you should never do this tune in public. It goes back to the comparison of sushi from the original post: This song would be blowfish sashimi and if you don't know how to serve it, someone could die from poison. It's true. But I did it anyway first, to perk those drunks up; second, just to see if after the stroke could I still sing.

For the record, I'm not really a proud man about much and try to live a simple, humble life. However, when it comes to singing I can say that I'm that damn good. Although I shifted from high tenor to middle baritone from age, smoking never really helped out my lungs and I lost a lot of the power I used to have. But now that I've quit smoking (over sevn weeks and keeping count until the day I die), it made me wonder if my lungs were ready for a workout of a tune of that nature. It was and I KILLED. If my voice was a hurricane, I was a class five that night. The look on their faces was in shock and awe. I had been a fill in KJ there until the reguar host comes back this week, but finally I made them pay attention to me. The tune was note for note perfect all the way up to end to which I got major applause. With the way things have been for me lately quite truthfully, I needed that a whole lot. I guess I can make folks happy if I just sing so I can get personal gratification from it. I'm glad that I was born with such a talent like that so I can make folks feel good. I'm also glad that I sobered them up enough to keep the place hopping just a little bit longer.

Now for those of you who've never heard the tune before or are a kid of the Eighties who remember Alex P. Keaton fawning for Courtney Cox whenever this song was played on "Family Ties", here's Billy Vera and The Beaters with "At This Moment" with a reminder: if you ever decide to do this tune in front of a crowd, you better bring your A game. Otherwise, you 'd be best to stick with your freinds from the office and do "Love Shack".

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Are You On The List?

It's been a lot of crap going on in my life as of late but today I just got the best news I've heard in over two years. As most of you know, I have End Stage Renal Failure or E.S.R.D.. In layman's terms, my kidneys screwed up and I need a transplant. I've been on the U.N.O.S. (United Network for Organ Sharing) transplant list since 2003 doing my best to have surgery as soon as possible (please don't ask why my family hasn't stepped up to the plate with a kidney as I would be here for days explaining). However, because of weight gain over the past year, I've been put on hold in the list. I've truthfully gained over 40 pound (okay, maybe 50) over time and it's been driving me crazy. Surgeons are concerned that if a person isn't at the right weight during and after a transplant, the organ could reject the body and it could mean trouble. In other words, if I don't lose the weight, I don't get on the list.

Well, the good news is I talked to someone today from the Medical College of Georgia, the hospital doing the transplant. Coordinaters there have been keeping in touch with me the past few months to see about my progress every three months. Sadly, I had to tell them about the mini-stroke of July, but I did tell them that I've recovered quite nicely since, but I still had the weight. The coordinator told me that I was still on hold on the U.N.O.S. list, but the great news I got was that once I lose the weight, not only would I get back on the list, I would be shot to the top of the list. It turns out that I have accrued time in those three and a half years, which means I'm due for a transplant. According to U.N.O.S., the average wait time for a kidney, dead or alive, is at least two to four years. That, and the fact that my blood is A postive pushes me up at the top of a very high list. Here's the gist: A positive blood is not that common in African-Americans, however it is in a lot and I mean A LOT of people in the United States, White, Black, American Indian, the very races I just happen to be mixed with.Surprizing though, between my brother Rocky and myself, the only full blooded member I have left on the planet, we don't match since he has O positive blood. Mind you, they have the medicine available now for me to accept any blood type kidney, but it's best to match type for type for a better outcome. All this means is that when the time comes, I could have a new kidney immediatly after I'm reactivated. It's the best outcome for my ailment I've heard in, well forever. With all of that being said, I need your help.

No, I'm not asking for your kidney or money to help pay for the transplant and other medical things. Not yet anyway.

What I want, REALLY WANT to lose this weight. I want to do this so I can finally have a somewhat normal life again. However, I need the encouragement to do this. When I was in the hospital, I heard from people then, but after I got home it became quiet which is a damn shame for anyone.

If your reading this and you are just an aquatence of me ( most of you My Spacers are that) then you really don't have to do this. Mostly because you really don't give a damn about anything and just wanted me on your freinds list just so you could fill it up to Dane Cook capacity. Sorry, but you are who you are and I called you out. So there. I'm talking to YOU. Anyone that reads Sam-A-Rama or this blog. Anyone from My Space who are my real freinds on and offline. Even if you're a freind;y stranger who's been in a perdiciemnt like this or knows someone who has. I need your encouragement more than ever. I have been personally fighting this battle alone now for over four years and trufully I'm this close to tired and ready to chuck it all in and let Nature take its course afterwards but that would be selfish of me to go out like that. I know that I can get through this. All I just need an extra push. If it's even just an "Are you okay" is all that I ask. Whether it's online or off, which would be a whole lot better so I can see you face to face to tell you thank you from the bottom of my heart.

So there you go, my great news of the year. I'm glad you read it. I hope you help.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Talking TV

I know that most of you didn't watch it last night, but since there's nothing really on television until the start of their Fall season (C'mon, Chuck!), I caught the MTV Video Music Awards. First up, they really don't videos much anymore, so why have an awards show other to suck up. Next, the show was shot in Las Vegas at the Palms Hotel and while it different to see artists and bands get their own "musical suites", it also felt hot and claustrophobic because of the crowded rooms. I was digging on the Foo Fighters' room, especially and wished they could have just run that for me the entire two hours. I'm glad that it only runs once this year instead of wall to wall showings like they do with everything else they run, other than music videos. With that being said, there's one performance from the show that I hope will never be seen again...

If you did not watch the show last night, you missed either the worst comeback in the world or the funniest episone of The Singing Bee ever. Sure, at this point you realize that most fo the artists on the show are going to lip sync, but Britney Spears couldn't even remember the words to her own song. In other words, if you've ever been on a nightclub damcefloor recently and right in the middle of it you've seen a chick who looks drunk on vodka and Red Bull trying to mouth the words of "Toxic" and even then the words ain't right, then you have seen the second former Miss Federline Sunday night. I think what is needed here is at least three more months in rehab, then a guest seat at The View just so I can have the pleasure of hearing Whoopi just say, "Child, what the f*** is wrong with you?" ( Oh, yeah. It's gonna happen and I can't wait).

Speaking of TV, as you may have heard by now that Time Magazine has come out with its top 100 Television Shows of All Time list, of which I approve of at least 95% of. I mean, Felicity? I never got it. My personal fave to replace it would have been Good Times, but I'm not Time. Damn...damn..DAMN!

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Ah, Kareoke

What can one say about kareoke that hasn't been said before? It is the vengence of the Japanese for losing in WWII after the bomb. Kareoke and octopus sushi, I believe, is the devil's tool and it's just plain wrong. Somehow, people are atracted to them both especially when they're drunk. They'll have one beer to many and say aloud even tho9ugh they think they're speaking softly, "Say, I'll think I'll give this a try" when they damn know that once they do it, they are putting themselves in danger. Stupid people should leave both kareoke and sushi alone if they don't know what they're doing.

I've been helping out a friend who has five kareoke systems running throughout the town and since I need the extra money, I thought it would be fun. It is, however there are some pitfalls to hosting kareoke:

1: In Japan. everyone looks nice and clean and the bar looks spotless. Here in America or at least in town where there's kareoke, everyone has at least more than two teeth missing and scruffy as hell and that's just the women.

2: Alcohol is everywhere. I can understand that as sometimes you need Liquid Courage to get up there in front of a mic, bt if you've done at least five beers you should be cut off from singing. There should be a three beer limit if you plan on singing your heart out the whole night before you get to "Welcome To My Nightmare".

3: Someone is going to sing Jimmy Buffet.

4: As for the word "sing", there really isn't any real singing in kareoke. For the most part, folks just fumble thru the words on the screen as they go by. I've been folks get up there and just stop trying to even read the lyrics and make an even bigger ass of themselves to the point where they just stand there and just beg for somebody else to do the song. Nobody wants to "D'yer Maker" after you just screwed it up for everybody.

5: As Dave Letterman would say, "This is only an exibition, not a competition. Please, no wagering." That kinda goes for kareoke as well. As a host, I'm not looking for stars, I'm looking to help the bar make money and to give drunks something to do. I'm not gonna give away prizes to the best singer because there is no best singer in kareoke. It's a level playing field out there on the bar floor. I did a show Friday night and a jackhole came up to me and handed in his songslip and told me that I should crank his voice up becasue the best singer was in the house. I looked him straight in the eyes and told his that he wasn't. He seemed upset and angry that I should tell him something like that, but I told him that no one is the greatest singer in the bar when it come to kareoke. Then he understood what I was saying while in his booze fueled stardom and he shook my hand and everything was fine afterwards. By the way, the guy was okay. Adequate, but at least he was in tune thank God.

The thing is, if you're looking for someone from a record company to pull up to your local hole in the wall, redneck filled, beer and piss smelling bar and sign you up after hearing you do your best Mariah Carey impression, you also have a shot of finding a a dog who poops gold from its butt. But you also have the same chance of having Simon Cowell comeing and stopping you into your second chorus of "Friends in Low Places" to tell you go to go home and slap the pee out of your mother for birthing such a horrible singer. Kareoke is all about getting up there and just having fun and singing goofy tunes with friends to see who can top the other with crazy songs. It's not "American Idol" and if it was the tryouts, you'd be sent home crying. Just stand up and sing as all that's asked and have fun, even if you aren't the best singer. Besides, the best singer is the one hosting the thing.

That would be me.