Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Just a quick note...

I lost somewhere around three, maybe four friends in the past five days. But in the past twenty minutes, I just talked to a lost love over emailed messages. Somehow, I think maybe 2009 maybe a Hell of a lot better than 2008 after all.

Cheers everyone and Happy New Year. I'll see you next year.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Put A Little Love In Your Heart

Have you ever done something so cool that it just makes you feel good about everything? I'm kind of feeling that way now even as the holiday season is getting ready to wind up. Still, it's the kind of feeling you want to hold on to for the whole year. You can have Christmas everyday and if you want that feeling, you can have it. You just have to believe.

Oh Lord, I sound like Bill Murray in Scrooged. But he is right.



On Christmas Day, I went to go see my pal Bob Wiley's mom in the hospital. I've known her for years and she's a strong woman of 75. Even at the loss of her husband, she still loves to take the wheel and go visit her friends around the country. Sadly however, she fell ill a week before Christmas with what she thought was bronchitis which turned into something worse and had to have a stay in the hospital for a while until she was better and that meant she would be there for most of the holidays with Bob at her side constantly. I decided to pop in to see how she was and thank goodness, she looked and felt great as we talked for over an hour. The cool part of it is she calls me her third son next to Bob and his real older brother Mike and I call her Mom. She should be coming home sometime today, so hopefully I can give her a call to see how things are going for her. I love my new Mom.

After the visit, I went over to Anthony's house for Christmas dinner. His wife Pam had been in the kitchen since around seven in the morning working on a huge meal with turkey, chicken, dressing, collard greens, mac and cheese and a whole lot more. The tough part of it was I had just one plate because of trying to keep an eye on my weight. Yeah, it sucked and I never got dessert, but I don't look so fat. Also, they got a Nintendo Wii which really is a hell of a work out after a big meal.

But I think the best part of the whole day happened across town. I found out they might not have a good Christmas this year because their dad no longer lived with them and their mother. I felt horrible about it as these were two wonderful boys and now their holiday could be a mess. So I thought that I'd try and do something to make them smile. So, I went to the Evil Target and picked up a couple of toys for the kids. Mind you, really didn't have the money at all to do it and in fact, I ended up broke afterward for the rest of this month. But I talked to their mom and found out that when they saw what they got, they were extremely happy, which therefore made me feel good.

Here's the thing: As I get older, I'm starting to realize how good it is to just give back, even around the holidays. I don't have kids, but I wish I did just to see the smiles on their faces when they see the tree all decorated and the lights strung up. Since I don't, I may as well make someone else's child smile. As for we adults, I really don't think we need much of anything. I didn't ask for anything and I didn't get anything. I heard from someone that day tell me that felt bad that I didn't get a gift, but I told them I'm fine because it's really the thought that counts. There are people out there who probably wouldn't get a gift this year even though they may deserve it. There are kids who hope that Santa will show up with toys and sadly never does. I found out this year how much better when you give honestly from the heart that it is to just get something and how it makes the person you give to feel so much better. If I could feel that way everyday for 2009, if everyone felt that way next year and beyond, then the word "change" would become more prfound. and it would feel as good as I do now.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Eartha Kitt, R.I.P.

Is it me, or was it that whenever you saw Eartha Kitt on Batman, you knew that she was sexier than Julie Newmar? I know that it throws everything you may remember about Catwoman, but think about it. Newmar was hot because, well, she was hot. But Eatha Kitt brought something special to the role of the villaness. The purr. The growl. They say that a leopard never changes it spots, but this little kitty changed the color and and the game. The sexual tension between Miss Kitt and The Caped Crusader were by and large, incredible. They never kissed once, but they had and chemistry not seen before on television during the Civil Rights era. Gvien the fact that other than Bill Cosby on I Spy, Nichelle Nichols on Star Trek and Greg Morris on Mission Impossible, Blacks weren't given featured roles in shows. Eartha Kitt made up for it by playing the bad girl and showing America that Black women can do more than take orders. They gave them out and could be as sexy as they want to be. C'est Si Bon, indeed.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

What I Want for Christmas, circa 1965



By the way, this clip is also on my You Tube Channel. If you haven't gone there before, then go check it out. C'mon, do it for the kids....

Ha-Ha-Ha!







I got nothin' for Christmas Eve. Just about the same for tomorrow, too. Go eat yourself full of Green Bean Casserole and I'll see you Friday. Remember, you'll shoot your eye out if you're not careful.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

It's a Festivus Miracle!

I have a few theories of how come my leg is better and one of them is that it was a Festivus Miracle as stated in the Book of Costanza, Chapter 16, Verse 37. "And Lo, after the Airing of Grievances and the Feets of Strength, a Miracle shall be brought upon them, once we finish the steaks and try to eat the year old fruit cake that yon old mother-in-law left thee two score and many months ago, where it took up much, way too much room in the freezer when we could have tossed it for the sake of the ice creme. But your mother always has to come first, doesn't she? It is but a lousy fruit cake, so yellith Frank Costanza, so yellith our father".

Or something like that, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Well, What Happened?

Sorry for the delay on this. I can say once again that the surgery went quite well and I can walk hard once again for the first time in years. Like I may hav esaid here before, it was a minimally evasive cut in a certain area, then a tube was inserted for the angioplasty. For those of you with weak stomachs, I hate to gross you out but it is what it is.

I do have two surgery stoires for you, however. The first one being that my brother Anthony took me to the hospital around seven in the morn for the proceedure. I went into room after checking in to change into a gown, then a nurse came in. "Mr. Johnson, it's time to shave you before you go into the O.R.", she said to me while holding an electric razor. All of a sudden, I knew there was one little thing that I forgot to do the night before. I didn't eat after midnight or drank, but I did forget to...Well, I think you understand and so did she.

After she was done, Anthony comes in to the room to check on me. I look up at him from my bed and tell him, "You know, I completely forgot to shave before I got here this morning."

Anthony then replies, "Man, we just gotta go get the nurse back in here and see if you can get you a razor to fix that. You need to get rid of that mess on your chin anyway. Your face is all fuzzed up."

You should have seen the look on his face when I told him "wrong spot".

The other has to do with in the O.R.. Now by this time, I'm ready for the doctors to do their thing. So they start giving me Perkodan to numb any feeling of pain and Versid to help put me in a semiconscious state, as so I don't remember what they did to me or how. I begin to drift off and I go in and out of it for a bit, but I'm okay and feeling nothing. While all of this is happening and these guys are cutting into me, they have a CD player going on playing hits from the Eighties, which is fine so everyone relaxes. Out of nowhere and not knowing what they have on the CD, I hear the opening notes of "Overkill" by Men At Work somehow in all my drugged stupor. I barely remember, but somehow I yelled out, "Dude, that is my favorite song! Crank it up, man!"

The surgeons  told me after it was done later that I sang the song all the way through before they gave me more Versid and passed right back out.

Other than the fact that I got cabin fever from sitting around the house waiting for the leg to be ready for use until yesterday, I feel great and could possibly return to doing roundhouse kicks once again. So there you go.

By the way, I would have posted yesterday about an incident I had last week before the surgery I call "Sam and The Dirty Book Lady", but it's way too X rated to tell here, and that is the truth. It's one I'll have to tell you personally as I can say that is was truly The Clip Of The Year.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Well?

Okay, I'm still alive. Other than a moment ago before I smashed the cell phone to the wall, I was feeling fantastic. So's the old leg.

Blame John Tesh. Really, let's blame the blond Sasquatch for the past three hours of my life that I can't get back. Other than that (and the fact that John and I will have to deal with each other for the next few days), I'm great. I promise.

I'll tell you abou the surgery tomorrow. Right now, I need some Misfits in my ears.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Get A Leg Up

I guess that's it for me for a good while here. Tomorrow, I go into surgery on my left leg, plus dialysis afterwards, and finally home later that night. From there, I'll be laid up in bed stoned to the gourd from all the drugs they give me for at least three or four days. What this means is I won't see anyone until maybe Monday evening, e.s.t.. By then, I should be able to let you all know how it turned out. However, if you'd like to find out sooner, you can give me a call, that is if you have my phone number and that's only after Thursday night. I plan on being stoned from Perkodan and eating crock pot chili on my pj's. Say a prayer to Peshi for me and I hope to talk to you all sooner than later!

A Tiger Ridge Christmas

A couple of years ago, I had the pleasure of working in radio with a guy named Chris Borkin who worked on the classic rock station here in town under the alias "Caveman". Chris was opinionated guy on the air, which to me was a breath of fresh air at the station, whether it be talking about how wonderful the North was (he was from Connecticut, by the way)  and how backwards everything was here. He got the listeners riled up and did pretty well in the ratings as folks wondered just what he'd say next.

His biggest thing to bust chops of was about a little place named Tiger Ridge. When I say small, I mean "S-M-all, small.". It's just 30 minutes outside of Savannah near Effingham County and really just a a community of single trailers and people. I will say that there has been some rumors about the place that involve such things as murder, inbreeding and carny folks. Whether it's true or not, no one says for sure. There is one true thing that stand out about the place. During Christmas time, the trailers are covered with lights and plastic Santa's and snowmen all the over the yards. The mystery of Tiger Ridge and the decorations intrigued Caveman and it was decided that a road trip must be taken to find fact from fiction.

Last year around this time, Cavey (as we called him) made the trek to Tiger Ridge with video camera and a witness in tow. By then, he had quit the business and went back to Connecticut, but the place still haunted him after he had left. I would have gone, but I wound up stuck at work which was a good thing as I would find out from this video. I will say that the clip is about eighteen minutes long, with half of it showing the lights of Tiger Ridge. The other half is ironically hilarious as Caveman and has to hide the camera from the town/trailer folk who thought that, one, he was the F.B.I;  and two, there was a Black person with them. Happy holidays, Tiger Ridge. May all your Christmases be, well, whatever.

Bacon Pancakes

If you recall, last month we found out about Deep Fried Bacon with dipping gravy which sent everyone into cardiac arrest from just looking at it. In the mix of all the comments, I came up with an even crazier idea: Bacon Pancakes. So, as I am one day away from getting sliced up in the hospital, I thought I'd treat myself this morning in case anything should go wrong and I never get the opportunity to eat Bacon Pancakes. There is a slide show, so sit down and pay attention.
First, we start off bacon, of course. I like center cut bacon as it's thicker and about as much fat as there is meat.
We cook on medium heat and walk out of the room until the bacon is nice and crispy. Remember, make sure to flip!
After the bacon is cooked, be sure to blot the grease out as much as you can from it. But then, it's not going to matter anyway since it's BACON!
 Next, we make the batter. I decided to use one of those shake up batters, then poured it into a container to dip the bacon in.
Now, here was my problem. You are supposed to fill to the line of the batter bottle with water, which I did but it still came out wetter than I expected, so it never covered the bacon like I wanted...
and so, I said screw it.We'll just see what happens. Keep the heat on the stove to low, because someone could knock on the door to ask you something stupid and ruin the meal.
After you answer the door and yell, "Ain't no Thelma here, man", your Bacon Pancakes should be more than ready. Just use your favorite syrup for dipping, along side a bottle of antacid tablets and a bottle of Lipitor for that just to be sure moment. This ends our experiment until something bacony better comes along.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Trailer Time, Bub

Here's the new trailer for X-Men Origins: Wolverine, for those that didn't want to see how they screwed The Day The Earth Stood Still. I'm just glad that Gambit isn't wearing that stupid costume of his. That's right, Marvel Zombies. I HATE GAMBIT. He is one of the most overrated comic book characters ever made. When they created him in the Nineties, they were looking for a guy as hot as Logan, but was just an also ran. Kind of like what this movie could be like if it's no where as good as it could be if the actual X-Men where in it. We shall see...

"No sir, I don't like it!"

Everybody else has a list around now, so why not me? And then, it's always the Top Ten Ice Creme flavors or The Ten Best Hamburgers in Europe, just stupid crap. Screw them. This list is the things I thought that sucked 2008. To paraphrase Mel Brooks, "Let them all go to Hell, except Dave Letterman's Top Ten". Trust me, folks. This really is the only year end list that matters.

-I'm glad that I finally got the President in office I wanted. The fact that I had to wade through 18 months to get to that point sucks. FIX IT.

-"Clean Coal" makes as much sense as a contestant on "Rock Of Love with Brett Michaels".

-Elliot Spitzer blows and Rod Blagojevitch spits in the face of politics. F'em.

-"My Own Worst Enemy"? More like "My Own Worst Career Move". Co-starring Val Kilmer.

-Looking for some "30 Rock" backlashing? Fine. Tina Fey refuses to do anymore Sara Palin jokes. 'Cause I'll bet there's a lot to mine out there in Alaska.

-For that matter, I talked to someone a few days ago and I actually agreed with them that Sara Palin was actually a great Vice Presidential candidate. Yet, she's completly lousy at naming kids. Trig? TRACK? WTF?

-That goes to Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson new kid, Lyp Sink.

-Going in front of Congress for a loan after flying in on corporate jets is like O.J. going to beat up and kidnapping a guy. Really stupid because somebody's gonna say something about it.

-"The fundamentals of America's economy is strong." Really? Just when did McCain go from being a fun uncle to my crotchety old grandpa?

-Just WHO OR WHAT the Hell is Lady Gaga and why does anyone think that she can friggin' sing? Did I just turn into McCain?

-Hi, Mike Myers? This is your talent. I miss you.

-I really didn't mind the price of gas going up to 4.00 a gallon. The fact that I didn't even get breakfast in the morning and had to do The Walk Of Shame in front of everybody pissed me off, though. Pig.

-It took this long for anyone to officially say that America is now in a recession? Hell, I could have told you when I payed my bills at the beginning of the year.

-I truly was surprised that one one jumped out of windows while the stock market dropped all those times. I got nothing there. I was just really surprised, that's all.

-And finally, I really did think "The Dark Knight" sucked. Because Heath Ledger isn't around anymore to see it.  Nor will we ever see George Carlin, Forrest J.Ackerman, Michael Turner, Bettie Page, Levi Stubbs, Van Johnson, Paul Newman, Don LaFontaine or Jennifer Hudson's mother, brother and nephew again. Abe Vigoda, however takes a licking, but keeps on ticking.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

His Wicked, Wicked Ways

This post is sort of a twofer, thanks to Ivan posting a comic strip that sort of reminds me that sometimes I can be truly twisted and evil. You know, the kind of person who keeps their friends close and their enemies closer. I know that some of you must have something like that going on in your life. Don't lie.

I don't believe fully, but I was born on June 14th, which under the Zodiac makes me a Gemini. Folks born under that sign are aid to have two (or maybe more) very different sides. You know that I have my goofy, "hey, let's drop it like it's hot" side. Others may have seen what I guess would be a more humble side of me. But last night, folks got to see a side of me that rarely ever comes out: My dark side.

I do my best never to get angry. All it does is get my blood pressure rising which isn't really all that helpful. When I was a kid, it wasn't anything for me to go Johnny Storm on somebody because I had a temper that was like putting gas on a fire. As I got older however and my health got worse, I had to learn to relax and focus. Simple deep breaths and realizing that fighting gets no one anywhere helps, although I still look like I could clear a room when I walk into it. Trust me, these days my bulk is more for show, like those homemade Batmobiles you see sometimes at car shows. It looks good on the outside, but it's a rusty old Lincoln inside. Going Zen and using my wits instead of my fists is a great asset to have, but there are days when all of a sudden I turn from from actually Brown to straight out Black with no shadow whatsoever. Did I happen to mention that the number one song on Billboard's Top 40 charts the day I was born was "Paint It Black" by The Rolling Stones? All it takes is someone stupid to come along and add a new ingredient to the mix and you've got a boiling pot of trouble ready to blow.

Case in point: Last night was Kararoke night at Steed's like it is every Saturday night. Wheather it's a huge crowd or a handful of people, I do my best to have a good time and hope that others there are having a good time as well. Then, Marty came in. I guess I should explain this asshat. Marty is one of the customers that frequent the infamous Captain's Lounge here in town. I've talked about the bar here in the past and talked about my distain of the place and its customers. A few months ago, the owner decided to get rid of their karaoke, leaving their people with nothing else to do in the bar but fight and drink a lot, or go to other bars in the walking/drinking area, so their kind of like fleas or the Borg with no other place to go.

As for Marty himself, he's six pitcher drinker who just loves to sing the most pathetic, mood singing songs ever. If you ever wanted to clear a room, have this jackhole sing "Along Again, Naturally" by Gilbert O'Sullivan or "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot. Not one good frickin' song in the bunch and he wants to them all. When I left Captain's to go to Steed's, I made damn sure to keep those bums out of my new home without following me over, like I always heard sometimes your past catches up with you like fleas.

Anyway, I did my best to let Marty know that Steed's isn't Captain's and we do things different, which means we don't suffer fools lightly. Soon, my friends Tina, Bob Wiley and One Eye Ken showed up, took over the front table and sang. Marty then joined in with the gang afer his sister left him there as he doesn't drive (I'm really going to be nice to his sister because at this point as I can't believe their parents had sex to even get to Marty). He tried his best to join in on the fun, but I really didn't want him around my friends because and this is the truth and I mean this in all honesty, I wouldn't invite this guy to my execution. I'm just there to play host and be nice to the patrons of the bar and remind them to tip the bartender.When the show's over, the mask comes off and I can relax and just breathe. This is where the Dark Side kicked in.

It's now closing time and almost everyone's gone except for Gina the bartender, my friend Tina, Marty the asshat and myself. The show's over and I'm breaking down the equipment and moving the speakers back where they belong so I can go home and rest. Marty, who is now as drunk as Cooter Brown, asks Tina if she would take him to Captain's and he would go home from there and she says yes. She then tells me what her plans are and I tell her it's up to her if she wants to do that, but to just be careful. She then gives me a hug and tells me she'll be fine. Then Marty walks up and decides to give me a tittie twister.

For the record, there are somethings you don't ever do when I'm around. You don't take from me, you don't ever talk about my mama, and if you don't know me, you don't ever touch me, no matter how many times I see you. If I don't bring you into my circle of friends, then DON'T. EVER. F'N. TOUCH. ME. EVER.



As soon as his grimy hands touched me, I then knocked then off me and shoved him, letting him know do not go there. And then he proceeds to do it again. I shoved him again and then all of a sudden I'm getting ready to stomp a mudhole in this guy. That's right, I'm from a little town called All Up In Your Ass, Georgia and I'm gettin' really homesick now.

Tina quickly rushes this bum out of the bar and by this time I'm ready to roll out. So she tells me that she's going to take this douche to the other bar and I wasn't having it. I told her she can do what the f*** she wanted, but as far as I was concerned, that drunk m****f**** could walk. I then went behind the bar and had a double shot of Jameson because sometimes you just have to.

Suddenly, Marty comes back through the door. Gina blocks him from getting anywhere near me and he stops with his head hung low. "Tina said that I was wrong and that I should apologise, and I wanted to say I'm sorry if I hurt you, Sam", he says. I just keep it simple as I downed my whiskey.

"Good for you. Now get the f*** out now."

It gets better.

After I relax and let it go after a few deep breaths, I now realize that I have now go to Captain's to drop off the karaoke equipment and who should be sitting at the bar but Tina and Marty. I do my best to just let them sit and talk by sitting a few stools away from them, but yet close enough to where if he or anyone does anything stupid to her as she is like my sister. She comes up to me to see if I'm fine, but then I feel a pair of hands on my shoulder behind me and it's him again. Like Lenny in "Of Mice and Men" he said,  "Sam, I'm really, really sorry I made you angry and I hope you aren't made at me." I begin to cringe, my shoulders hunch and I take a slow, deep breath and then I looked over at Tina.

"Marty", I said in a slow way to make sure he understood ever word like an angry teacher would their worst student, "Don't you ever, that means ever, touch me again". His hands would then quickly leave my shoulders. If Tina wasn't there, I swear to six pound, three ounce Baby Jesus I probablly would have turned around in my stool and kicked Marty straight into the cigarrete machine, then clutched up with a chair for any other takers. Instead, I got up and took my leave of the bar that I truly wish would burn into the ground. I just couldn't deal with it anymore.

Like I said at the begining of all of this is that I really am a nice guy. Truth be told, I'll be the first to admit that I am nothing but a teddy bear. I would really whether just sit down and talk it out instead of skinning my knuckles and getting dirt and blood on me. I am too old and too tired and somedays, I can't fight a cold. I couldn't beat and egg. There are times where I can't even whip inflation. But out there are stupid people who  roam this earth and some of them should be eradicated as they drink too much, talk too loud, drive gas guzzlers, work in corporate offices or run a country in the ground for eight years. At some point, if that stupid person gets you in a corner and tries to give you a titty twister, by God you'll want to come out swigning too, I'll bet you.

Friday, December 12, 2008

R.I.P. Bettie Page

They may not talk much about Van Johnson on the blogs over the weekend, but it will buzz about Miss Page. Whether you spelled her surname with an "ie" or and "y" at the end, she was still a sight to behold. I was just talking to someone earlier and she stated how she liked Marylin Monroe better when I mentioned Bettie's death. I made mention that I liked Bettie so much better for how much more innocent she was. You can tell from every photo taken that she had a ball at what she did from each smile she gave the photographer. She was, at least to me, the dream girl of every man. Thanks, Bettie. You don't know how much you will be missed.

                                                                                 

R.I.P. Van Johnson

I'm going to take a cue from fellow blogger Tom Sutpen and the gang at "If Charlie Parker Was A Gunslinger, There'd Be a Whole Of Dead Copycats" (what a mouthful)  if they don't mind and post a few photos of Mr. Johnson. He had a long and storied career  in movies and could go from musicals to war films  to comedy in a tap, which he was also good at. He will be missed.

He Must Be Coming Down With Something....

 
 Look! It's my new queen sized bed with a pillow top mattress! I put it together all by my self and it took less than an hour! And then when I got into it, it was really, really comfy and I didn't want to get out it never, ever ever! I took a picture of it so it looks like Martha Stewart made it up for me! It's AWESOME!!!
                                                                             

Then last night, Tina came by and  brought this to me! She said that  she saw it Michael's and I just had to have it because it made her think of "Santa Claus Is A Black Man"! I thought it kinda looked like Chef, so we christened him Chef Claus! Or is it Santa Chef? I don't know, BUT IT ROCKS!

...and now, I have a cold and feel cranky as Hell. I've had more stuff up my nose than Robin Williams at an '81 Belushi party just trying to get rid of it. Plus, I've got a karaoke gig tonight and all I wanna do is sleep. Man, that Zyrtec makes a dude a moody S.O.B., I'll tell you what.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

What The "S" Stands For

Some of you know that I have Superman's "S" tattooed on my arm. Usually when I wear a muscle shirt (yes, I still do), folks see it amd comment that it looks great. Once at a Family Dollar, woman who had tats herself saw my arm and asked what did it stand for. I looked her straight in the eyes and said, "Sam". She looked at me with shock and walked away. I must have freaked her out or something. Either that, or she thought I would fly her off to jail for shoplifting or something. I dunno....

Anyways, here's what else stands for courtesy of The Man of Steel and Sesame Street, circa 1969. There's a lot more "S" words out there than I thought.

I Have Mental Gas...

or simply put, I got nothing. I would but it was a busy day in my world. I had to coordinate with my friend Jenny about picking up her old bed, which is a queen sized pillow top, including an armquoi or however you spell it and I can't even spell check it, two night stands and the bed frame itself that she paid about five large for. She wound up putting them in a storage unit when she moved in with her fiance' and it sat for over a year until she offered it to me, which I gladly accepted.

Now these days, I don't have the strength that I used to have because of my illness which sucks. Plus, my left leg would give out on me in flash. Don't get me wrong, I'll do my best to get the work done but I am at the moment a 90 pound weakling in a big man's body. I hate it. I am as weak as the box office for Punisher: War Zone (HA!). This is why I'm so glad my brother Anthony and a guy he works with gave a helping hand and then some getting the stuff over there and set up for me. By the time I get home, I should have a much better, much nicer looking bedroom to lay my head in. Yay for me.

Other than that, I can't spell the governor of Illinois's last name and he looks like what Martin Sheen and Ray Liotta would have if they mated and the baby was cast in a J.F.K. movie. So, there you go...

Monday, December 08, 2008

It's All About Soul

My friend Bob Ruggerio just had an interview with music legend Thom Bell, who's partly responsible for the Philadelphia Sound, which made hits for The O'Jays, The Spinners, Teddy Pendergrass, Harold Melvin and The Blue Notes and more. There's a new box set out now called "Love Train: The Sound Of Philadelphia", which I happen to have thanks to Bob sending me a copy. It's great to just sit back and listen to on a Sunday afternoon with your feet up, so you know I highly recommend it for the holidays. I'm gonna go home now and listen to The Stylistics's  "Break Up To Make Up" before the series finale of Boston Legal. Denny Crane!

"Yo ho, yo ho, what's the weather goning to be?"

Savannah is kind of gloomy today as former local TV weather man Joe Cox has died at the age of 80.  Some of you may remember his stint at WJCL for many years in the eighties, but everyone here in town over the age of forty knew him best as Captain Sandy, the seafaring weather man. He actually wasn't the first guy to play the Cap'n, but he was the one folks remembered the most. What made him cool was the entertaining way he presented the weather with his puppet sidekicks Wilbur the Weatherbird, Calamity Clam (who always snapped the Cap'n's hand when he reached for the time and tide card in the clam's mouth) and Arthur Mometer, which I guess you could figure out what he was. Captain Sandy made the weather fun for kids to understand and yet he never hosted a kid's show, loads of them like myself tuned in every night to see what the weather was going to be the next day, just like in his theme song, which I cribbed from Wikipedia...

"Yo ho, yo ho, what's the weather gonna be?/
Here's the man who knows, let's take a look and see.
Here is Captain Sandy with the weather he has found,/
for Savannah and for Chatham and the counties all around."

After Joe left TV, he continued to do radio for WJCL FM, which was Easy Listening at the time and retired when it became Kix 96 and went Country in the mid-nineties. You'd still see around town going to the bank  or shopping for groceries at the Publix in Twelve Oaks, which is where I saw him at both places. At the bank, I just kinda looked at him like I was a kid again. He looked back at me and smiled, ever saying a word to each other. But I think he knew that I knew who he was and even though we were both much older now, I hoped that he knew that he made me learn what high tides and low tides were. Thanks, Cap'n.

 UPDATE Just one more thing: Here's The Captain in 1964. It's not Joe Cox, but another man named Tom Even, who was a Production Director at WSAV. Still, it gives you an idea of what the weather was like when I was a kid. A whole lot of fun.

Sunday, December 07, 2008

Me Write Pretty Someday

I've been going over the ol' blog here and looking at all 1,497 posts I've done since 2003 and truthfully, my freakin' head hurts.

I mean, there are loads of You Tube clicks to go through here WTF?!

The reason for this archiving are ideas for my possible book. I honestly have to say that my writing has improved since the start and I really didn't get into working on longer posts and turning them into essays until 2006. Still, I found some pretty good one, I guess. The cool part I think is that some of them were raley read since somehow I went though a period when no one soul came to the site. So if you've never seen some of these posts before, then it's new to you. 'Cause I'm tired now and I ain't writin' nothing else. I'll leavve you a few of them and let me know what you think. I'll post more tomorrow for you to peruse:

Secret Origins
Getting Caught Up
Things that make you Depressed
Why I Eat At Krystals
Almost Famous
Hollow Weenie
Best Day Ever
My Guilty Pleasure
Catch Phrases that Don't Work
Still More Catch Prases That Don't Work
The Single Guy Recipe For Making Oatmeal Cookies
How To Keep Your Husband Happy
A Georgian In Montana
Red Kool Aid
Never Poke A Sleeping Wolverine With a Stick

That's just some of them, folks. But I think this is the best way to check out some of the better posts...Since I know you don't read the archives. I'll leave you with this litttle strip created by Kevin Church. We were good blog followers, but I think he got angry at me when we got into a pissing match about comic fans versus comic collectors. You can let it go now, Kev. All was forgiven a long time ago.

Friday, December 05, 2008

They Got Him

I guess by now you all heard the news: The "real killers" still haven't been found and The Juice has decided to go undercover in jail to find them. It may take him a few years to get to 'em, but he's working on it.

It goes to say that America's most notorious celebrity/murderer will finally be admitted into the Graybar Hotel with all it's amenities for at least nine years and many folks are happy to see him finally getting what he deserves. If you may be wondering, I think it's time he spent time in jail, too. Despite what some may say, so are other Blacks out there. The first time he nearly went, Blacks were happy just for the fact that it truly showed that if you had enough money, you can get away with anything, scott free. On the inside however, we knew the muthaf**** did it.

I remember the day the first verdict came out. I just happened to be on the air that afternoon on Oldies 98.3. Back then kiddies, the O.J. Trial was the biggest thing to hit television in 1994 and 1995 from the Big Chase all the way down to the jury shilling their books on Good Morning America. Everyone was talking about what Judge Ito was wearing under his robe that day, was Marcia Clark sleeping with F.Lee Bailey and just what would Johnnie Cochran say today that sounded cool. So when the verdict came in, everybody saw it go down and the reaction from White and Black America was split down the middle. I think you can tell that it wasn't pretty.

So while the word comes down that O.J. is innocent, I debate whether or not to say anything on the air about it. In the end, I didn't say a word about it. For the first reason, I was the program director of the station at the time and I thought it would be a bit of a buzz kill to come out of "I'm a Believer" and let listeners know what happened. Second, because I thought the verdict was so controversial that the station, which truthfully had its key demographic listeners at Whites 25 to 54, would have folks calling us day and night about how angry they were that a killer was set free. Say what you will, but I did it for the best of the station and I stand by my decision. There was enough talk about what had been going on on television, the news and other radio stations. I wanted to get away from all that crap and just play music. After all, I had nothing to do with what happened in the begininng in the first place.

Cut to 2004 when I finally get to shake hands with the man. I had nothing against him then. By this time, he's living off his Naked Gun residuals, playing golf and coming to Savannah for a "Gin and Juice" party. As soon as he walked into Wet Willies that night, you could see polarization quickly. You also saw a celebrity/killer also, which is something that doesn't really happen everyday. It was an amazing sight, me and O.J. talking for a brief moment in the bar and folks just looking as though they should hide. But I still got that look in eyes that I got whenever I saw my dad when I was younger. That just told me that this muthaf**** did the crime, no matter how much bulls****he gives you.

And now, O.J. Simpson is off the streets. There may be no "Free O.J." t-shirts available this time, no protesters outside the courtroom screaming racial injustice, no reporters or networks with twenty-four hour coverage of what O.J. must be doing at this hour. No A.C., no Kato, no Furman, nothing. Just a criminal who will finally be put in jail and hopefully will realize what his actions has brought him in the last few years. Maybe now he'll know what the rest of us, all of us knew the first time.

That muthaf**** did it
.

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Beggin' You

If you are a faithful reader of this blog before or after the name changes, then I have a bit of a project for you that may or may not be so hard, depending on what you how you feel on it. I've done over 1400 posts over five years time on two, maybe three blogs. Now, I don't want to say that's pretty prolific but for a guy who started off doing this out of the blue, that ain't too bad. Since then, I've been going to college and taking up composition classes from a great teacher, Dr. Hoit-Thetford. For the record, for anyone who ever comes across the woman for a class should know that she may look tough, but she's a very nice person. At least she is to me since most of the other students in the classes seem to have the actual attention span of a cheese log in Wisconsin, in my opinion.

Anyway, over the past few days I've been working on a literary analysis of the poem "A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes that was way overdue for dear Dr. H (as she asks her students to call her) and would have lowered my grade a notch if not done. A couple of weeks ago to speak to her about it, she mentioned about how she likes the blog and my writing style and that possibly I should put some of these musing into a book at some point.

Personally, I don't know if I even have a style. I try to be funny and I can tell you that sometimes it is and sometimes it isn't. I would just call it style "blog writing". Just short bursts of words that just seem to fit together for the reader with ADD.  I know that I can veer off into another subject when I write (like right now), but it's just the way that I am. But I like to feel as though I'm talking to the reader one on one as if I'm having a conversation. Truthfully, I write it as if I'm on stage doing a monologue on front of an audience and I get a laugh or two. I guess that would be my "dream deferred" in some way.

Anyway, this is where YOU the reader comes into focus. I'll be going through some of these posts from the past for a possible book. I know that there are some clunkers out there, but I think I might have a few to get me some page time. What I'd like for you are some ideas. Which posts do you think are worth compiling? Should I stick with the funny or not? Is this whole thing a pipe dream of a wannabe late night talk show host? Please, help me find the right material for this project.

I will say this: If I do this thing, which I may self publish depending on the cost, I WILL put aside a portion of the proceeds of each book sold for my kidney transplant. That means that if I get the chance to do this, YOU BETTER BUY THREE COPIES OF IT. You can all thank Dr. H for this wonderful project. I hope to get an A and sell a lot of copies.

Before I go, I wanted to leave you with a song. Last night, I wound up watching The 2008 World Music Awards on My Network TV. Since I don't have my satellite up yet, I have to watch TV with a digital converter box for a decent signal at my place (this is another subject that I will scream about on Friday). I saw a guy/duo on the show from somewhere named Madcon who did a cover of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons' "Beggin'". I don't say this much, but I am a big fan of The Four Seasons and this is one of my favorites of theirs. It had enough bounce then that it could return to the charts now and it must have in England or someplace. All I know is that if they had kept the rapper out it, the new version would be perfect (there's something else to vent about). Listen to both versions for yourself. I'll bet you wind up doing the Cabbage Patch to it as much as I did.

That's right, I said "Cabbage Patch". I stick with the classics.

Leg Work

Okay, here is the good news. On Monday, I got a phone call from my new vascular surgeon. I got a new one since the old one wound up leaving his practice. As it turns out ironiclly, the poor doctor was diagnosed with ultra mega super high blood pressure. You would think that a man of medicine would at least get a check up once in a while on himself. But I digress.

So, I get the call from the new guy. Okay, actually not the new guy himself. That would be Dr. Wixson who I saw last week before Thanksgiving at eight in the morning. I was tired from the night before and really couldn't get up that morning, but I made it in there. The guy seemed prety cool. His nurse checcked me out for a bit, looked over my leg to see how things were, checked the pulse and all that. Then after she did all that, she left me in the room for like fifteen minutes. Don't you hate that? Just sitting in a doctor's office for the longest time before they even get you? I mean like, the room is all cold and you have your pants off and everything?

In fact, I was told to take off my pants and wear these shorts they had. I'm not kidding. They had these ultra large paper shorts I had to put on. Actually, they were pretty cool and all. If I had the chance to wear them during the Summer, I would. They were kind of like boxers, but they fit really good.  But it was cold in the room and I...

Oh, yeah. I forgot what I was talking about. Sorry. The good news.

So, Dr. Wixson's nurse called me on Monday and let me know that my long needed leg surgery has been scheduled for December 18th. I gotta say that I'm pretty excited to go under the knife for this. It's going to be what we hope is pretty simple as it should take about an hour to take care of and I'll return home later that evening. I won't go into details about how the surgery will go not to gross out some of you with weak stomachs, but I will say that I'll be off my feet for at least two to three days after that which means bed rest, I can't go anywhere and no interweb since I don't have it at home yet.

It's cool, I'm not complaining and all. I am going to make up for it though by getting my satillite back up before I go under the knife. I miss having Dish Network after so many months and watching Turner Classic Movies while I'm down will cheer me up loads. And depending on what the money flow looks like before then, I might still get be some World Wide Web thanks to Cricket's new broadband USB which is cheaper than anything everyone else has.

So there you go. I'm finally on the road to good health once again and this little bit is going to do wonder, I hope. Here's praying that one year from now, I'm in a hospital room recovering after my kidney transplant. That would be a cool Christmas gift.

Monday, December 01, 2008

meanwhile...

Vanity Fair has a great interview with the smart guy's perfect woman, Tina Fey. Meanwhile, her evil  doppleganger Sarah Palin comes to my town to stump for Saxby Chambliss and shoot moose. No wonder the water turned to blood around here today.

Black Christmas

When I was a child, Christmas was very special occasion and not just for the toys. The music was special as well as you only heard it on the radio for a month, then it was over. In the Seventies, Black radio had some classics: Donny Hathaway's "This Christmas", The Emotions' "What Do the Lonely Do at Christmas", The Whispers' "Happy Holidays" and others. But there was one tune that really stood out called "Santa Claus Is A Black Man". It was a cute tune with a little girl telling the story of how she woke up to find not only Santa under the tree, but one with an Afro. All the kids in my neighborhood would sing the song out loud and not one person complained because that's how it was where I grew up. Then, as soon as December 26th happened, the song stopped and would disappear as fast as wrapping on a Evel Kenivel Stunt Show. The song was a radio for many years, but suddenly as it turned into the Eighties, Black radio stopped playing the song during Christmas. Ever since The Temptations' version of "Silent Night" and Run-DMC's "Christmas In Hollis", there hasn't been any other real holiday classics but every year, we roll them all out. Sadly, we just don't play "Santa Claus Is A Black Man".

For years after it disappeared, I would tell all my White friends about the song and of course they laughed at me. For years, I felt like Linus trying to tell the legend of the Great Pumpkin, standing out in the cold patch alone yelling to the world of how wonderful he/she is. Well today, I have my redemption. Thanks to the interweb, I finally found the song today that made me and my family and friends would sing along to during my yesterdays. When there was no Black Friday and no one died during the Christmas rush. The only shoes you wanted were Catheads and everyone had bell bottoms. I even found out the song was done by a little group called The Teddy Vann Production Company and the the little narrator was named Akim. Akim, wherever you are, Merry Christmas to you and thanks. As for the song itself, whether Santa was Black, White, Hispanic, Asian or Martian, whenever you begin to finally grow up, you find out who the real Santa is. It's fun though to still believe in a man who can make children smile for as long as there is a Christmas.