We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To...
This week's episode: Sam refuses to believe that one of his role models isn't such a role model after all.
Headline: Hizzoner wouldn't lie, would he?
February 13, 2007
Sammy finds a creative new angle on the shady Kinbess-CMHA deal, in which then-Councilman Frank Jackson helped a developer secure public money for an industrial park, then switched course and allowed it to be bought by the county for a wildly inflated price — a deal Jackson now claims he simply forgot about. Sure it looks bad, says Sammy, but he has inside sources who tell a different story. The mop boy and the security guard at City Hall say Jackson's a straight up dude. Take that, Sandra Livingston!
4/10. Give Sammy credit for standing up for the values he believes in: incompetency, phoning it in, and that you're innocent until proven a complete moron.
6/10. Standing beside a friend in times of trouble isn't always easy. Especially if that friend happens to be the mayor, he happens to be involved in major corruption scandal, and you happen to be the metro columnist for the local newspaper.
Sam Gets Poetic:
"If it were anyone other than Mayor Frank Jackson involved in this CMHA scandal, I'd swear he was lying." Translation: One time Jackson put his hand on my shoulder and called me "man." Something happened at that moment that I can't describe. Call it reporter's intuition.
The Master Has Spoken:
"But it's good ol' Frank. And everyone respects the mayor as an honest dude." Translation: I went through my entire rolodex on this one, which consists of, let me see, Dominoes, the guy in the cube down the hall who fixes my computer, and . . . oh, here he is, Frank Jackson.
What Sam Reveals About Sam:
Sam's willing to trust his gut, even if it brings him into disagreement with his own paper. Call it courage, call it reckless, call it not reading his own paper.
You know, Cheryl, I don't take a stand on many issues. But I'm throwing down the white glove today. A man has been defamed — and he's black, goddamnit. Wait, he is black, isn't he, Cheryl? Are we at least 80 percent sure on that? OK, hand me the phone. I'm calling . . . Dominoes. You got five bucks?