Disco Here. Disco There. Dis Idol Go Everywhere. (with RESULTS!)

THE RESULTS...
Just got home from The Happiest Place in the Mall, celebrating Earth Day by collecting a few thousand plastic water bottles for recycling... and now I'm here to recycle the jokes and watch the recycled group song (or fast forward, like you know I will...)

Hopped on Facebook, and thankfully I didn't see any news of who may or may not be kicked off... tonight, we lose two... because

THIS IS AMERICAN

IDOL

Seacrest lets me know the theme of the medley that I'll be skipping tonight (disco, natch) and the performance that I'll be skipping (Young Archie) so hopefully, I can miss that dreaded Ford commercial as well. The judges. Randy the Dawg, Simon the Cowell, Paula the Blunderer and Kara the New Hotness, are here, and we now watch Paula the Flake do the choreography for this week's group song.

Paula Abdul.... I used to have the hottest poster of her on my wall. She was part of my early celebrity crush lineage.... Nancy McKeon to Alyssa Milano to Debbie Gibson to Mariah Carey to Paula Abdul. Back in day, like many of today's musical jokes, Paula was awesome diggity. Seriously.

By the way, after the group song, they award Paula with some flowers... she comes onstage to hug them in a dress so short that Seacrest tells her to be careful.

Anyway, her first CD was "Forever Your Girl", but to me, the crown jewel was "Vibeology", an immaculate album of cool dance beats, fun songs and Paula at her premier hotness... and of course, it spawned one of the greatest, most epic, most incredible, most unintentionally hysterical videos in the history of the known world. Forget "The Matrix", or "Speed" or even the Oscar winning "Hardball"... no, Keanu Reeves finest moment...


I've posted this video before, but as my audience grows, I must give more chances for more people to witness this vision of visionary visions. You'll see this again when I finally do my post on my ten favorite music videos of all time...

Seacrest kills some time while the chicks change clothes... the guys do it faster. Always. Alright, Mindy D'A, dim the lights... let's start with... Lil Rounds. Her time has passed, she's gotten too many chances. Alexis Grace should be here right now. She takes a walk to the far side of the stage to the Silver Stools of Failure, though Seacrest doesn't actually say she's in the Bottom Three.

He doesn't have too, actually... he drops the bomb on her like The Gap Band, and just flat out tells her "Get out, chick." And she grabs the mic to kick Chaka Khan in the face again with her "I'm Every Woman".


Here's how the song should be sung... from one of the most underrated movies of all time... "The Bodyguard".

We're back now with Seacrest, welcoming... someone. Who? Frieda Payne? Who? Was Donna Summer really not available? They did 4,288 of her songs last night, putting Donna back in the spotlight, and she seriously couldn't find the time to come to Idol? What else is she doing? Nothing, that's what!!

Ah... here's Thelma Houston. "aaaawwwwww bbbbaaaaayyyyybbbaaaaayyy.... my heart is full and desire for you! So come on now and do what you know you gots to do!" The cut to Paula the Flake, who is standing and dancing, and Simon the Cowell has a big, toothy grin on his face. I think I've decided I want Thelma Houston to play at my birthday party this summer. Oh, come on, you know YOU would totally come to d$'s 34th Annual Birthday Bash in August if Thelma Houston was going to be there! She could just sing this song about 9 times and I'd be alright. The Lovely Steph Leann, can you get on that?

KC, sans Sunshine Band, comes out singing, what else, "Get Down Tonight". Dude looks like a trucker straight off of "To Catch a Predator". In fact, Chris Hansen might be in the second row... maybe its the botox or whatever, but KC is hard pressed to show any emotion whatever. He has this "Joker" type grin going on, and I mean Jack's, not Heath's. He's struggling to get down tonight, too. And where is the Sunshine band? Are they hanging with Donna Summer?

And we're back... alright Cindy Jo, dim the lights. Its time to show some Bottom Three-ness. One of the Silver Stools of Failure has been taken away...

Kris Allen stands up. Last night? Best performance of the night. Maybe the coolest, anyway. America votes... and Kris is safe. The Ambiguously Gay Adam stands up, with very little worry of anything, really. He's kinda got a Gay Chris Isaak coif going on, just much darker. He sits in safety.

The Widower Danny Gokey stands up. How does he actually have exactly the same amount of stubble every week? Does he time this every week? He sits. Naturally.

This now leaves Matty G, Anoop the Eyebrowed One and My Next American Idol Allison Iraheta... with two Silver Stools of Failure still unseated. Anoop nods knowingly as he is in the Bottom Two. Matty G and My Next American Idol Allison Iraheta stand up together...

Matty G... Matty G... Matty G... Matty G... please please please please....

Seacrest stretches it out as long as possible before finally sending My Next American Idol Allison Iraheta to the Silver Stools of Failure. And extra set of stools have been brought out, one for each of Anoop's eyebrows.

Young David Archuleta does his thing, I skip it entirely, and let's do the final results. KT, dim the lights. Seacrest holds the card... and Anoop Dogg is gone now. And before he sings his final song, he declares jihad on the entire show. Not good times. Its better this way, though... now the terrorists don't win. Well... considering our president... oy!

_______________________

PERFORMANCES....
Just a quick note before we start... Jason Bateman. I did a review on "State of Play" a few days ago, and Mindy D'A reminded me that I didn't mention Jason Bateman... he steals the latter half of this movie, by the way, and I can only attribute the fact that it was late when I blogged about it as the reason I left Bateman out. He is brilliant in this, and you need to know this.

Now...

THIS

IS

AMERICAN

IDOL

DISCO NIGHT

This is going to be the train wreck of the season, as it usually is. Seriously. I mean, when they are sitting around the table, and the producers are trying to come up with the themes, you reckon someone says, "Okay, we got country week... we got birth-year week... we got movie night... all the weeks are taken but one... what do we fill that one with?"

"What about Billy Joel Week? The songs of Billy Joel?"
"No, that's too old."
"What about... maybe Past Idol Tunes week? Songs from Kelly and Ruben and Taylor and Carrie and such."
"Nope, that's not good either"
And some drunk guy in the back stands up and says, "I think we should do disco week. Again!"
"PERFECT! Cause Barry Gibb was amazing last year!"

Here's what he sang... "Theres a. Light. Some kind. Of light..." It was horrendous--so bad, that to this day, I still make fun of it.

But as it is, this is Disco Week. If Lil Rounds doesn't blow this out the water, then there IS NO HOPE for her. Without a video (they probably only have one for The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert and The Goke), they let her go straight into Chaka Khan's "I'm Every Woman."

And I notice that in the hotpants she's wearing, she's got back for days. Literally, I could take this Chipotle Mexican Grill cup of ice cold Co-cola and set it on the top of that thing. She's close the judges, but her bum is straight back, rubbing the video screen.

Randy the Dawg says, "You got the party started... but..." and its not good. He says that she didnt show what kind of artist she could be, and seriously, by now, there isn't any chance she will. Kara the New Hotness says, "We've been waiting for you to sing Chaka or someone and show us what you can do... and really, I don't think its worth the wait. You literally have been every woman up there this year." Paula the Flake goes through butterflies and puppy dog tails. Simon the Cowell says it was copycat and messy.

Kris Allen is holding a guitar for Disco Week. Is there really any guitar music ever actually in any disco song you know? And he picked out "She's Works Hard for the Money" by Donna Summer, and as he says, its a song about a woman who has a great work ethic. Yep, she works hard. For her money.

I look over at The Lovely Steph Leann, smiling and simply say, "I dig this guy." She chirps, "I LOVE KRIS ALLEN!!" Dude, this is awesome. He's got the band on the stage, pounding the bongos, playing guitar and really... and this is the first time I've said this so far this season... I might consider buying a Kris Allen CD. And for the first time this year, a performance that I might actually consider in the Top 100 Coolest Things of 2009, along with Chipotle, lunch with Stan McDuffie and Mindy D'A herself...

Kara the New Hotness sings his praises. Paula... oh, Paula Paula Paula. I cannot even describe what I just heard. "Some women shop in the men's department, but few men shop in the women's department", leading to all sorts of Kris Allen Buys Chick Undies jokes... Simon the Cowell says it was completely opposite of Lil Rounds, and that it was fantastic. Randy the Dawg says it was awesome.

The Lovely Steph Leann begins a real rant... "I mean, come on, I know it was mess up Idol's perfect little word to have Kris Allen in the top two and not The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert or The Widower Danny Gokey, but REALLY!!! HE'S AWESOME!!! WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO DO??!!"

So let's now give it to The Goke himself, The Widower Danny Gokey... he's doing "September" by Earth Wind & Fire. This is a hard song for a white boy to pull off, really. I'll be honest, I make fun of (with?) the guy, but he can sing. He's got a great voice. But he's done very little to impress me so far.

This used to be my ringtone on my first cell phone I ever got. I remember using it as a wake up alarm on missions in New York City in 2005.

Randy the Dawg said he wasn't sure about the song choice originally, but he really like the version that The Gokinator made happen. Kara the New Hotness--and really, she is pretty hot, and I think she gets finer as the season goes on--loved it. She loved the pitch. Paula the Blitherer blitherers. She says he's got a sexy voice. Cindy Jo agrees. Simon the Cowell likes The Widower Danny Gokey, but didn't like the song.



My Next American Idol Allison Iraheta must defend her My Next American Idol crown against challenger Kris Allen tonight. She's doing "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer, and chick is laying on the stairs, slinking up across the stage and if she were a) older than 16 and b) prettier, then she'd be pretty hot right about now. But as she's neither, I can say she looks pretty cool.

I love me some Jailbait Ally... but I didn't like the song all that much. Randy the Dawg thought the arrangement was overindulgent, but says she's one of the best singers in the competition. I think we've heard "And you're only 16!!" or some variation of that has been said about 53,000 times this year. Kara the New Hotness agrees with Randy the Dawg. Paula the Blubberer blubberers. Simon the Cowell says it was a brilliant performance.

And now its time for The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert. He's doing... or will destroy... "If I Can't Have You" by Yvonne Elliman, one of my favorite disco songs from that era. Seriously, I love that song.

And he turns it into a ballad. I think he's actually a pretty smart guy... he'll do a rape of a certain classic, like last week, then come back the next week and play it safe, sing it pleasantly cool, and wait for the judges to heap praises onto him. And right at the end, he throws in his "WHHHAAAAAAAAYAYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHH" scream. Its a patented move now. Yes, yes, the song was good. But its The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert.

Randy the Dawg says it was awesome. Kara the New Hotness says this was the most memorable performance, and I completely disagree. Kris Allen has stolen this show. Paula the Blabberer blabberers, while Simon the Cowell laughs at her. Simon the Cowell was surprised is that it wasn't Donna Summer, but loved it and the immaculate vocals.

Personally, I think The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert should have done... "YMCA"? "Macho Man"? "In the Navy"? Ha! I tell The Lovely Steph Leann this joke, and she rolls her eyes.

My favorite disco songs ever... in no particular order...

• "Dancing Queen" by ABBA, though I can't truly rule this straight disco, and if ABBA is disco, then I can't say that "Dancing Queen" is my favorite ABBA song, because its a toss up between "Mamma Mia" and "S.O.S.".
• "If I Can't Have You" by Yvonne Elliman. The real version, not the one The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert just took an Ambiguously Gay dump on.
• "Last Dance" by Donna Summer. Its quick, its fun, its sing alongable.
• "When Will I See You" by The Three Degrees. Soft. Tender. Sensative. Like me.
• "Don't Leave Me This Way" by Thelma Houston. You'd know this if you heard it... it starts out slower, then kicks in "ooooohhhhhh baby! my heart is full o'love and desire for you!"
• "The Rubberband Man" by The Spinners. I don't have a single clue what this song is about, nor do I care. Its just cool, cool funk.
• "We Want the Funk" by George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic. Can you get a much cooler name than Parliament Funkadelic. I think not.

And yes, I'm thrilled by the fact that this album is called "Kung Fu Fighting and Other Love Songs". The unintentional comedy scale just broke.

• "Kung Fu Fighting" by Carl Douglas. Seriously, how does a black man in the 70s come up with the idea of writing a song--a racist song at that, with Chinamen and Lil Sammy Chong--about kung fu movies and such? I am sure wacky terbacky was involved. (more on this at the bottom of the blog...)
• "Best of My Love" by The Emotions. "Whoa oh, you get the best of my love, whoa oh... you get the best of my love!" Possibly my favorite disco classic.

I ask The Lovely Steph Leann her favorite disco songs, and she shrugs. "I like that Yvonne song I guess... I dunno... 'I Will Survive'... maybe? I don't even know what there is..."

Thats true with Disco. I had to pull up iTunes and actually look at my Disco genre.

Back to the show, where Seacrest alludes to Matty G doing "Stayin' Alive". Could this be true?

Without hearing the version, I call it--Lil Rounds and Matty G go home. If you are The Widower Danny Gokey or The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert, you can do "Stayin' Alive" and get away with it. If you are fighting for your life, you don't do "Stayin' Alive". You find something you can absolutely nail. Something you can blow out. This song? No.

He comes out, puts a little rock/soul spin on it, and it sounds pretty good. Heck, if you are doing to do something risky and crazy, go "Atomic Dog". Who wouldn't have wanted to hear Matty G go "Bow wow wow yippee yo yippee yay"?

Randy the Dawg didn't love the song, but still says that Matty G can really sing. Kara the New Hotness says she was glad that Matty G brought disco back to the night. Paula the Wanderer wanderers, making a bowling metaphor of some sort. Right up her alley. Simon the Cowell didn't like it.

Anoop the Eyebrowed One closes out the show, and I wonder what ballad he's going to do. And I say this right before the guitar starts with the ballad music. Its a song called "Dim the Lights", and hey... the song picks up. Its one I'm not familiar with, but its by, again, Donna Summer.

When I made my prediction about who's going home, I literally forgot that Anoop the Eyebrowed One was even in this show... Randy the Dawg liked it. Kara the New Hotness liked it. Paula the Wisdomer dispenses wisdom. Er. Simon the Cowell disagrees with everyone, not liking the song at all, and thought it was the worst Eyebrowed performance by a mile.

So here's how it goes down...
Kris Allen. My Next American Idol Allison Iraheta. Matty G. The Ambiguously Gay Adam Lambert. The Widower Danny Gokey. The Eyebrowed Anoop Doggy Dogg. Lil Rounds.

As they are showing the clips again, and reminding you of the numbers, The Lovely Steph Leann goes on another mini-rant about Kris Allen, and how he's getting no love from the judges, and she doesn't know what he can do to make them say "you can win this thing!"

And for me, Disco Week wasn't all that bad this year. Results tomorrow night!

So after the show was over, I was still curious about Carl Douglas writing and performing "Kung Fu Fighting". I mean, really. This is like me sitting down and writing a ballad about political espionage, cause I liked those kind of films. I ventured over to Carl's Wiki page, and here is what he lists as his three factors for writing this song...

1. He liked Kung Fu movies, and had seen them recently. Granted.
2. Went to a jazz concert featuring Oscar Peterson, a legendary jazz pianist, and was inspired by some of his music
and finally...
3. Was suffering from the side effects of pain killers.


Ladies and gentleman, I think we have a winner. Option #3. Yep, I noticed its not even in sync. Just like a great kung fu movie. Everyone now... "Wha ho ho hoooooooo.... Wha ho ho hooooo..... Wha ho ho hoooooo.... Wha ho ho hoooooo...."

Samson Blog Part III: High School Highs... and Lows

Thanks for coming back--I've already stopped off in Troy, visited Jennifer, run into a few old faces that I recognized and now its time to run into another, and re-visit the school that taught me how to... well, do whatever it is that high schools teach. Previous posts include...

Samson Blog Part I: "...Knee High to a Puddle Duck"
Samson Blog Part II: Tammy Ward & the Library Books

PART III... HIGH SCHOOL HIGHS.. and lows


The brick sign that wasn't there when I was there

Back when I was in school, there was a middle school and a high school, though the lines between the two were very blurred. The building on the south part of the school was primarily junior high (at what point did they stop being called junior high and start only going as “middle school”? Is “junior high” a bad thing? Really?) leaving the north part as the high school, but the ball field was shared by both, the small business building in the middle was shared by both, the recess yard was shared by both…. Really, it was all one big school, 6th grade through 12th. Maybe 600 students. Might be more, might be less.

Some number of years ago, though, they built a new Middle School and placed it next to Samson Elementary, which was building in 1984. I only know this because I moved there in 4th grade, and it was just opened the previous month. We couldn’t lean on the walls, it was so new. Imagine telling a bunch of 9 year olds you can’t lean on the walls. Right.



With the middle school gone, Samson High School truly is just a high school. As I walked onto Broad Street, I noticed that a couple of the buildings where there, and a few were now gone… I can only guess they were gutted and torn down, probably a good thing. I walked onto the sidewalk that runs in front of the entire school, walking slowly to observe. Another teacher had just come out of one of the buildings, and said, “Can I help you with something?” I smiled and said, “No, thanks. I’m an alumnus, and I’m just checking out the school.” I added with a grin, “I thought it best to wait until all the students were out, so as not to be that creepy guy wandering around the campus.” She smiled and said, “Good idea.”

I stopped in front of the Samson High sign to snap a few pictures, and noticed a familiar face up ahead. She was with a young boy, and she moved between a furniture delivery truck and another group of people. I slowly made my way past the group, snapping more photos of the surrounding school monuments and scenery, but kept glancing up at her. Is that…? I mean, could that be…?

She said something to the group, they all chuckled, and she led the boy inside the school doors. I followed her, but when I went inside, she had already disappeared into the next set of double doors. Another teacher was there, looked up and asked, “Can I help you, sir?” I stopped, not taking my eyes off of the door, pointed and said, “Was that Renee?” She smiled and said, “Yes! Go through these doors and take a right. Mrs. Adams is on the left, you’ll see her door.”

Mrs. Adams? I thanked the kind lady and went through the doors. The school, for all its differences, still had the same look in the hallway. The floor was different, the lockers were bigger, the paint was newer, but this… this was Samson High School. I walked toward the first door, and saw the placard that said “Mrs. R. ADAMS”. I stared at the door for a minute, and then thought, “Holy crap, she’s a teacher.”

“So, uh, you got your name on the door and everything, huh? Think your somebody?” I asked, as I stood in the doorway, pointing toward the sign. Renee Carroll looked up from her desk, glared at me for a few seconds, then her face brightened. “Oh my gosh… d$!” she stood up, ran over to me and gave me a big hug.

Renee Carroll and I go way back, to… 1991? She was an 8th grader, I was a senior, and her step-father, Steve, worked as an excellent cook at The Wright Place Restaurant. Her mom, Carlene, also worked there for a time, and Renee washed dishes and helped out too. She had a crush on me. I don’t say that in vain, or in an arrogant assumption, I say that because she told me so. And as gently as I could, I told her I wasn’t interested in her. She didn’t talk to me for a month. I also remember she was obsessed with country group Alabama.

She looked great, her son Ryan is now 7 (or was it 9?), and she’s a teacher now at Samson High School. She has been teaching there for a while now, teaching all subjects to all grades at this point. Renee told me that there were plans for a memorial garden to be built behind the main school building, right outside her window, in honor of the victims of March 10th. We chatted a while longer, what I’d been up to, teachers that had come and gone (Mrs. Hutchison is retiring, it seems!) and who was still there. Mrs. Danley was still there. A few others had gone. Some had died.

We discussed Samson, how it was different, how it was the same, and Renee said the most amazing thing was that when she came back to teach, she went into the lunchroom… and it was so small! “I remember it being so much bigger, and now, it’s like, tiny. It was bizarre.”

It was great talking to her for a little while, and finally, we said our goodbyes. Who knows if and when I’ll see Renee Carroll Adams again? Hopefully soon.

I left the classroom, and as I rounded the corner, I locked eyes with Mrs. Danley. On her face was the now-familiar “Is that…?” expression, but I didn’t stop. I smiled and kept walking, right on out the back door of the main building, finding myself in front of the lunchroom. And as I peered into the window (it was locked), I could see a few new additions, notably a big cooler that said “DASANI” on it. But the big tiger painted on the wall was still there. And Renee was right… it was tiny. Did I really sit and have milk carton drink-offs with Chad Ward and Greg Avant right there? Unbelievably so. And there, on the opposite outside door of the lunchroom is the area that the freshman girls congregated—Chris McCall’s obsession Andrea Foreman, my first slow dance ever Angiejay (in this very lunchroom, by the way, but more on her in a minute), Manda Donaldson, Jennifer Herndon (yes, that one), Stephanie Sheffield and of course,The Clouds In My Coffee Official High School Crush Julie Wise.

That slow dance was weird. It was, in fact, with Angiejay, who agreed to be my homecoming dance date, then bowed out because word spread all over school that we were going out. We danced to “Wanted” by Alan Jackson, and looking back, I think she did so because she felt obliged to do so, not because she wanted to. We were dancing close to Ryan Frary and Stephanie Sheffield, who were going out at the time, and Ryan leaned over and yanked my hand down to Angiejay’s bum. Luckily, I yanked it back in time to save the embarrassment, and though Stephanie smacked him, Ryan thought it was hilarious. Looking back, I do too.

Laughing to myself as I remember this monumental moment, I went down the sidewalk through the campus, passing the gymnasium, home of the 2 time defending girl’s basketball team, the Lady Tigers. The further I walk, though, the more I realize that yes, there is a new high school building… but most everything else on the grounds is exactly the same. I walk between the science building, where Mr. Holmes tried in vain to teach me Physics and Chemistry, and the Ag/Home Ec building, where I won top grade prizes for like, four straight terms…. In Home Ec, not Ag.

I stopped at the bandroom, and boy those memories came back as well. Renee told me that the last time the band was really, really strong was when we were in school. When I was a sophomore, we were 70+ strong, 6th through 12th grade, but over the years, the band has dwindled. It’s had it shares of highs and lows, but right now it was at a low point. Sad, really. The Blue and Gold rocked back in the day.


It was on those railings on the sidewalk leading to the door on the right that, in October of 1992, I waited outside for Angiejay, after the Homecoming Ballgame. She said already said yes a few nights ago. Then she sent someone (Tracy Lassiter?) out to tell me that "she would just meet me there". I was crushed. Am I still bitter? Not at all, it was 17 years ago, but its still fun to talk about. And the fact she rejected me on Facebook last year makes it all the more fun. Hence, the decision to make Angie Jay a villian in the book. Ha!

The tennis courts sat across the street. Samson was always too small to have a tennis team, but we did have courts. During my sophomore year, I became infatuated with Jennifer Capriati, a young tennis star, so I bought myself a 18 dollar racket (a huge sum when you are 15) and taught myself how to play tennis. Over the course of that year, I lost about 30 pounds, gained much leg strength and went through two pairs of tennis shoes—wore a hole slap into the soles of them. See, our court wasn’t grass, or clay or even a regular hard court, our court was asphalt and gravel. And there was a big sand pit right in the middle that you would slide through if you weren’t careful. The back fence was about four feet from the back baseline, so there was lots of slamming into the chain links, and the net was such that you had to hook it back onto the posts when you played. Sometimes the ball would go through the gap between the netting and the white border, so you had to argue over whether it was actually a Let or not. (you can read more of this, and some of the same, in a post from June 2006 called "Game Set Match", if you feel so inclined)
By my junior year, there were lots of people playing. I’d like to think I was at least partly responsible for the tennis resurgence from 1991 to 1993. Names like Ryan Hutchison, Juice Williams, Jason Lambert, Wade Rials, Bren Finch, and of course, Ryan Frary and myself—the Federer and Nadal of our day. For two years, we were gods of the court. Every single day, until the light was gone, and even then sometimes into the night, using the one single yellow light that shone on half the court. The summer between my junior and senior year, I collected $5 from 16 court regulars, bought some paint, went out in the hot July sun and painted lines on the court. Then we had ourselves a tennis tournament. And it was a beautiful thing.


You can barely see the yellow of the lines that were painted all those years ago. Some of the weeds might be the exact same, though. But this is the court we played on.

Now? The lines are faded away. The dirt is piled high in various parts of the court, the fence has bigger holes in it than before, the weeds grow tall through the asphalt, the post has an old plastic cup on top of it, and the net is nowhere to be found. Doesn’t matter, though, because where the net would go is taken up by a big greenhouse nursery sitting smack in the middle of the court. A messily handwritten note on the door of the greenhouse said, “If you need plants, call…”


The abomination that sits on our courts. Ryan (can't remember if it was Frary or Hutchison) and I actually scheduled a meeting and went to the mayor, asking for the council to look at devoting some money to renovate the tennis courts. There were only three courts and a few thousand tax dollars would be all that was needed to put up new nets, fix the light(s) and give it a light touch-up. They rejected us out of hand.

Sighing, and a piece of my soul now dead on that court with the knowledge that there would probably never be another Snuff City Invitational Tennis Classic, I walked back to the campus, and entered the football stadium. It was here on this very field that I graduated high school, coming now upon 16 years ago. They put in metal bleachers sometime around my junior year, maybe a year earlier, but that’s just for the home side. The visitors still have the old concrete bleachers, and they still look exactly the same.

I walk around the football field, past the concession stand that sits boarded up for the offseason, and just take it all in. Lots of memories here too. Marching saxophone in the band, chomping on stadium burgers and $1 M&M bags, sitting with Jason Howell and admiring how hot Claudia Sorrells was in her majorette uniform, enjoying those late October/ early November Friday nights when the temperature is around 45 degrees… is there anything better than high school football in cold temperatures? Sipping on watered down hot chocolate that burns your tongue? I’ve already resolved to come to homecoming in 2009, and perhaps a few more games if I can make it.

The grass is about six inches too high now, this being the offseason and daily care not necessary. Its Alva Hawke Stadium, though I have yet to figure out who Alva Hawke is. And I still don’t know the alma mater song, though I can reel off that fight song. Or could, at one time. There is a ton of junk piled under the bleachers—stadium lights, wood, trash, a small hauling trailer—and it just looks messy. I smile as I stand next to the chain link fence, a fence that 16 years ago I stood next to, wearing a hot blue uniform with a poofy feather thing jutting out of my hat, holding an alto saxophone, joking with Jason Howell and Kelli White, close to Chris McCall who kept stealing glances at Andrea Foreman, all while I was stealing glances at The Clouds in My Coffee Official High School Crush Julie Wise in a majorette uniform, while Jason stole glances--who am I kidding, he just plain stared--at Kelli White, all of us awaiting marching orders from drum major Tonya Windham, and wondering if I would actually keep in step this time around, and knowing the answer would be, probably not. But that’s okay. We marched on.

I haven’t picked up an alto saxophone in at least five years, and then it was only once. Before that, it was high school band. I've thought about picking it up again, memories of Kenny G songs still flowing through me head... I could actually play "Songbird" at one time. But, alas, I've also thought about learning how to play the mandolin I've owned for 8 years, and that hasn't happened either...

I stared out into the football field a while longer, making verbal notes into my voice recorder, discussing my own characters that are dancing around in my head and how a football field might come into play when Peter and Barrow are discussing what to do for homecoming. But that’s later, I think. I decided it was time to go, enough nostalgia for one day had been accomplished.

I walk back down the same sidewalk, pausing for a moment from talking into my voice recorder as an older gentlemen walked by. No sense in sounding stupid. Er. I make another walk around the school, out onto the front lawn and back down Broad, then Farmer Street. A few blocks later, I was back in my own home, sitting and talking with my dear mother again.

She’s addicted to judge shows…. She doesn’t care for Judge Judy, but Judge Judy comes on between Judge Joe Brown and some other judge, so she doesn’t bother to change the channel, she just sits and complains about how much she doesn’t like Judge Judy. Love my mom.

It's around 4pm, and I'm getting hungry. I've got an hour before dinner, though, one that should be fun. I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake her hand. I hope the Pea River is as blueish green as it has been in my dreams.

I hope.

And finally, the last part of The Samson Blog... Memories in a BBQ Dive

Julie Wise & the Facebook Lament

Facebook is a dangerous, dangerous thing. When I started blogging three and a half years ago, leading up to a NYC mission trip, I never imagined the outlets and resources that words typed & written could be read through.

I hopped on MySpace a few years back, mostly because I had come across Amy McL's MySpace page and wanted to make a comment. Well, to comment, I had to have a "page", so I made a page. Probably spent way more time on making the page flashy, but I had nothing else... I couldn't do a Facebook page, because Facebook was only for people who had a college email address, and then it was opened to those who had certain work or "network" email addresses.

And then, one day, the gates of Facebook opened up to one and all, much to the dismay of many who thought it should remained an exclusive club.

I've said this before--I blog to be read. Seriously, I enjoy knowing that people sometimes enjoy what I write. I don't have many talents, if any, so apparently I can do this halfway decent. If I wanted to remain private, I would just use a journal and keep it hidden under the bed. So how do you continually get read? Be entertaining in what you write (I guess this depends on who you ask), blog alot (so there is something for people to check) and advertise.

I started doing that on Facebook last year, typing the web address in my status line, along with an idea of what had just been written, be it Idol recaps, movies, music, whatever... I also had my blogs imported into Facebook, so now anyone who lists me as a "friend" can see just about anything I've written--which isn't all that impressive, because anyone with a computer and some time to kill can head to Clouds in My Coffee and see EVERYTHING I've written.

And therein lies the danger. Back when I first started, when I first began to discuss things like... Troy State... Samson High School... past experiences... former friends turned long lost acquaintances... it was not a big deal. I mean, who's going to read this? I haven't seen Tiffany Abbott in years, so if I gush about my crush on her there, she won't see it, right? Or if I discuss parties and cruises and crazy things in high school involving Jason Smith or Cristie Wright or Shannon Williamson or whoever, I haven't seen any of them in a decade, so what of it?

And what about Angiejay's dismissal of me during our Homecoming dance? Or Susan Ward's mean comment that kinda bugged me for years afterwards? See, for a long time, Tiffany and Jason and Cristie and Shannon and Angiejay and Susan... they weren't even real people. Well, I mean, they were, but not here. They are characters in the story that I happened to be telling at that time. Most of you don't know Tiffany Abbott from Tiffany the Redheaded 80s pop star (though had I dated Tiffany the Redheaded 80s pop star, I would have been 15 at the time, and you'd better believe I'd have told that story.)...

...well, most of you didn't know her. Many of you do now.

Sidenote. When I say "story", I hope you rest assured in the fact that pretty much everything I tell you about the old days is pretty much the truth, or at least the truth as best I can recall it all these years later. So when I tell you the story of The Greg to Diamonds Foundation, where in 8th grade Ryan Frary, Chad Ward, Chris McCall and myself collected money in jars for two weeks to earn enough to buy a diamond ring for Greg Avant to give to Jennifer Lambert so she'd go out with him... that's a true story. Besides, if I said stuff like, "Yeah, I dated Stephanie Phillips and I was prom king with Beverly Day and when I went to college, I went on a mission trip to Belize with The Angel and..." someone would refute that. Especially now. My point is made. And if you think this is all a ploy to invoke as many old names as I can come up with... well, you may be right.

All of this came to mind the other day when none other than Julie Wise joined Facebook. Julie Wise, the tall, frizzy headed beauty that had my glances and my heart (for whatever that was worth in high school) during my junior and senior years, Julie Wise, who've I've referred to as The Official Clouds In My Coffee Samson High School Crush... she now has become techno savvy.

A friend of mine, Staceyfran, stopped by The Happiest Place in the Mall, and we discussed blogging. Her site is here, she's just getting started, so go check it out and give her some feedback. (okay Stac... you may or may not have any traffic, who knows... but now you gotta update in case company comes callin'...) Anyway, I mentioned, in passing, that Julie Wise had now joined Facebook and that I was going to blog about her arrival, and then I stopped to say, "You know, Julie, who..." and she cut me off. "Oh, I know who she is."

And for whatever reason, it just struck me that there's alot that I've said in four years. And who knows who is reading what? I mean, I can't do anything about it now... I'm pretty sure I've made jokes here and there at others expenses, but there again, remember... its almost a comedic characterization. And yes, I can think of one catchphrase in particular that wasn't very nice... I won't even mention it here, for fear of someone on Facebook sending it out, if it hasn't happened already. And I haven't used it in a long, long time. Because up until now, when Mikey or KT or J Rob or Paulie Walnuts read something about Julie Wise, or Angiejay, or Jennifer Herndon or Chris McCall or whoever... its a funny story.

But Facebook connects the freakin' world. For better or for worse. Of course, the simple answer is, "Just remove the blogs from Facebook". Sure. But remember why I blog. To be read. And if I can get 25 page loads per day from people clicking over from Facebook (and I do sometimes, mind you), there's no way I'm taking it down. Doesn't matter now. Too many people have it bookmarked.

So, fellow bloggers, just remember the old creed used by Ferb of "Phineaus & Ferb" fame.... "But the internet is forever."

Oh, for those of you wondering, here's a then (top) and now (bottom) picture of none other than The Official Clouds In My Coffee Samson High School Crush Julie Wise (yes, yes, its "Edberg" now, but it will always be "Wise" to me)


She's gonna go nuts when she sees this...

But believe me when I say this... as Athena-esque as she was then, and as pretty as I still think she is now...

...She's not The Lovely Steph Leann. So I personally think I got the better end of the deal. I wouldn't trade her for all the Julies and Tiffanys and Goddesses and Kate Winslets in all the world, cause she's just that fantastically awesomely lovely. Just sayin'.

Besides, both Julie Wise and I had (I still do, actually) large heads. She sent me a note a few days ago that said: "You know it is good we didn't have those NBA sized head babies..."

Welcome to Facebook... and to Clouds in My Coffee, Julie Wise. I hope you enjoy it.