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6:24 a.m. - 2003-12-31


So yesterday on the first day of my second week of vacation ... I spent it working.

Not in the office working.

But putting CDs together for tonight's big New Year's Eve party.

Fifteen years ago, I was the deejay at the city's hottest nightclub.

I remember New Year's Eve 1988 like it was yesterday.

The club held 350 people and there were approximately 150 people waiting outside to get in.

We were even selling drinks to the people outside. Not entirely legal, but it kept them from going to another bar where they COULD get in.

I drank as much alcohol as possible and then passed out in a hotel room next door with the door to my room wide open and my pants around my ankles for all the revelers to see.

Fifteen years later, I'm deejaying at an even bigger party.

Here's the's in the biggest church in the southeast.


No alcohol.

No suggestive songs.

No drunk bastards stumbling up to me every five minutes, saying "Play that 'Strokin' song. Goddamn, that's one funny motherfuckin' song!"

I hate the song "Strokin".

And yet, I'm the person who helped make the song famous.

The guy that recorded it ... Clarence Carter ... he lives here in town.

When he recorded it in '86 or whatever, his agent brought it to me and asked me to play it in the club.

Out of all the clubs in town, I was the only one who took a chance on playing a risque song by a blind local guy.

We used to have a lot of military guys come through the club. They'd be here for a few weeks/months and then go on elsewhere.

Within a year of playing that song, every night for 365 nights, I would have new faces come in who had been told that we were the bar with the "Strokin" song.

Basically, military guys were going all over the world talking about our bar and that song.

Soon the song became popular amongst other club deejays.

Today, it's a novelty classic.

And I hate the damned song with a passion.

I figure I've heard the song probably 3,000 times.

It's the only song in my nightly playlist that got played more than once. It would normally get played every 90 minutes or so because the requests to hear it were outrageous.


Tonight I have a crowd of approximately 2,000 people to play for.

I cannot play anything suggestive.

This is something that I have to take into consideration that I normally don't do.

Anything by KC & The Sunshine Band?


No "Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight" or "Shake Shake Shake Your Booty".

God no.

We certainly don't want to point out to these 2,000 Christians that they might have booties attached to the small of their backs.

How about "Play That Funky Music"?

"White Boy"?

Gosh no. Can't distinguish between the races. We're all equal in the house of the Lord.

Okay then. I'm sure you can play The Beatles.

Sure. The Beatles. The group that introduced American youth to the wonders of illegal drugs. The Marilyn Manson of their day.

No Beatles.


Uhhhh...a song about finding gay love at a Christian men's association.


Elvis is the person who brought this evil rock and roll to the dinner table in the first place. We don't need to be reminded of his blasphemous self.

Ahhhh..."The Hokey Pokey"!!

Sure. The Hokey Pokey. Of course, when it gets to putting your "backside" in and encouraging a roomful of people to rub their asses together, and I let that get out over the speakers ... I'll probably get kicked out on my backside with no pay.

Well ... then what's left?

Glenn Fucking Miller, that's who.

No lyrics. Non-threatening music. And boring as hell.

Four hours of big band music.

That's the route I'm taking.

At least until someone comes up and tells me to play that funky music, white boy.

Then ... at that point ... I'll feel safe to go ahead and break out the Outkast.

And scare the living shit out of the blue hairs in attendance.

May as well take a cue from Cosmic and the Kitch and list my year in review since it's the last day of the year and all.

Hmmmm...let's see.

I quit my job of writing coffee table books and started working in the tourism industry. Five weeks after I quit, the former company folded amidst rumors of money laundering taking place behind closed doors. I never looked back once.

Saw Hilton Head Island for the first time in my life. Wasn't impressed.

Saw the Wiggles. Wasn't impressed.

Went to something called Marketing College which I was dreading and had more fun than I've had in 20 years. The fun came courtesy of some cool people and lots of alcohol. Plus karaoke. The true Karaoke Beast that's been inside me my entire life finally burst out and didn't know when to shut up. I was singing Monkees songs for Pete's sakes. Shouldn't have been impressed, but I was.

Ummmmm...shit. Was my life that damned boring this year?

I'm racking my brain here.

Uhhhh...saw my cousin for the first time in a decade or so.

Got laid.

NOT by my cousin, you freak.

Met the governor.

Watched the kid grow up and the wife grow around.

That's it really.

Pretty pathetic, huh?

Yeah well ... you're the pathetic one, mister.

You look forward to reading about my boring life every morning.


Who's the pathetic one now?!?

(Answer: It's still me)

For God's sakes ... don't get drunk and think you can drive like Jeff Gordon tonight.

I need you here tomorrow to validate my patheticness.


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