Sammy Sosa? Everybody knew who Sammy was, paid attention to Sammy. I had already signed in pro ball when he had the great homer year with Mark McGwire in '98. But I followed it, and I was proud of him because he was my countryman. There are a lot of great ballplayers from the Dominican, and he's one of the best.
There was a lull. Sammy was staring across the room at George Opdyke, the three-time Pulitzer Prize winner. I was about to say he was lost in thought, but Sammy was never really lost, and he never actually thought, for that implied deep reflection. He was figuring. Miss Goldblum edged her undernourished white hand into his. Sammy played with it absent-mindedly, like a piece of silverware.
Very much on the defensive, I admitted that I liked to read. "Sure, " Sammy said, "I never said I had anything against reading books... " "The publishers will be relieved to know that, " I tried to insert, but Sammy was too quick for me and was already rounding the bend of his next sentence.
I thought of Sammy Glick rocking in his cradle of hate, malnutrition, prejudice, suspicions, amorality, the anarchy of the poor; I thought of him as a mangy puppy in a dog-eat-dog world. I was modulating my hate for Sammy Glick from the personal to the societal. I no longer even hated Rivington Street but the idea of Rivington Street, all Rivington Streets of all nationalities allowed to pile up in cities like gigantic dung heaps smelling up the world, ambitions growing out of filth and crawling away like worms. I saw Sammy Glick on a battlefield where every soldier was his own cause, his own army and his own flag, and I realized that I had singled him out not because he had been born into the world anymore selfish, ruthless and cruel than anybody else, even though he had become all three, but because in the midst of a war that was selfish, ruthless and cruel Sammy was proving himself the fittest and the fiercest and the fastest.
"Vell," said Mr. Weller, "Now I s'pose he'll want to call some witnesses to speak to his character, or p'raps to prove a alleybi. I've been a turnin' the bis'ness over in my mind, and he may make his-self easy, Sammy. I've got some friends as'll do either for him, but my adwice 'ud be this here-never mind the character, and stick to the alleybi. Nothing like a alleybi, Sammy, nothing."
As he watched Joe stand, blazing, on the fire escape, Sammy felt an ache in his chest that turned out to be, as so often occurs when memory and desire conjoin with a transient effect of weather, the pang of creation. The desire he felt, watching Joe, was unquestionably physical, but in the sense that Sammy wanted to inhabit the body of his cousin, not possess it. It was, in part, a longing-common enough among the inventors of heroes-to be someone else; to be more than the result of two hundred regimens and scenarios and self-improvement campaigns that always ran afoul of his perennial inability to locate an actual self to be improved. Joe Kavalier had an air of competence, of faith in his own abilities, that Sammy, by means of constant effort over the whole of his life, had finally learned only to fake.
Never talk to waiters like that, " Kit said. "Can I help it, " he said, "if I only went one year to finishing school?" "It isn't manners, " she said like a sensible schoolteacher quietly disciplining a small boy, "it just isn't smart." I thought of the time I first told him not to say ain't. He took this the same way, a little peeved but making mental notes. I noticed he was never too much of an egotist to take criticism when he knew it would help. It was part of his genius for self-propulsion. I was beginning to see what Kit had for Sammy. Of course she stood for something never within his reach before. But it was more than that. Sammy seemed to know that his career was entering a new cycle where polish paid off. You could almost see him filing off the rough edges against the sharp blade of her mind.
Tell her I'm sorry I sold the diamond, eh?" Sammy said. "I broke my promise. When she disappeared in Alaska... ah, so long ago, I finally used that diamond, moved to Texas as I always dreamed. I started my machine shop. Started my family! It was a good life, but Haze; was right. The diamond came with a curse. I never saw her again." "Oh, Sammy, " Hazel said. "No, a curse didn't keep me away. I wanted to come back. I died!" The old man didn't seem to hear. He smiled down at the baby, and kissed him on the head. "I give you my blessing, Leo. First male great-grandchild! I have a feeling you are special, like Hazel was. You are more than a regular baby, eh? You will carry on for me. You will see her someday. Tell her hello for me.
You know what you need?' 'What?' 'You need to think about what a badass bald man would do in this situation' 'There are no badass bald men. By definition.' 'What about Dwight D. Eisenhower?' Carlos suggested. 'President Eisenhower?' 'Doesn't he qualify as a badass?' Carlos insisted. 'Look, he may have been president, but he doesn't exactly come to people's minds when you ask them to think of a badass.' 'All right. How about Kojak?' Carlos asked. 'That police detective show with Telly Savalas?' Sammy asked. 'Yeah, Kojak. He was a badass. Always cool under pressure.' 'All right, ' Sammy replied. 'Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that Kojak was a bald badass. So what?' 'So you have to imagine how Kojak would deal with this situation we have in front of us. He wouldn't be worried about whether this girl digs bald guys. He would just walk right up to her, knowing that he's a badass and just take care of business. You see, it's all in the delivery.' 'The delivery?' 'Yeah, the execution
I'm just not ready to give myself up, Sammy. I mean, there's something perfect about virginity, and I haven't found someone who deserves to take that perfection from me... ' 'You're loco, Carlos. Insane. Totally crazy... Most guys think they're imperfect for still being virgins past the age of seventeen.
I always thought of Caesars as the gold standard. I had exactly one date in high school, and my father knew someone who got us comped here for the Sammy Davis Jr. show. We heard 'Candy Man,' 'Mr. Bojangles' - the whole list. And then my date and I went off to the dance - homecoming, I think - where she pretty much ignored me.
We're always looking to advance as many as we can. We're happy with nine, I feel bad for Sammy (Martin) and Preston (Johnson). It would have been nice for those to get those kids, too. But nine isn't bad. We'd take those numbers any time. Ever since the sectionals, the kids have been wrestling well. I just hope we keep it going.
I think there's no question that Michael Jackson was the foremost entertainer of his generation; perhaps of all time, arguably, taking the skills of a Sammy Davis, Jr., bringing together the street dance of African American urban culture, joining them to the politics of dance, of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly on that sphere alone.
Michael Eric Dyson
Already in 2007 I thought I would be able to break the World record in the near future. That time Sammy Tangui was the pacemaker in Lausanne. I liked the way he was running. He is tall, he has a strong body and his stride is similar to mine. I told him in one of the coming years I would need him when I try to break the World record.
Titus, have you ever had your heart broken?' 'Oh, son. How could you ask a man who used to play the blues a question like that?' 'How long does it take to go away?' 'A broken heart?' 'Yeah.' 'There's no precise formula, Sammy.' 'Just give me an estimate.' 'A good rule of thumb is at least half the time that you were in love. Or twice the time. It all just depends.
They were going to expel me. Mom convinced them not to... and got them to apologize, " Fern said, almost embarrassed. Really?" Eddie said. "See, Sammy, you don't mess with the Commander, do you?" Eddie playfully hit his younger brother in the stomach with the back of his hand. When the Commander says jump... , " Sam started. We say, 'yes ma'am, how high?'" Eddie ended with a forehead salute.
Jennifer Anne Kogler
Ramon looked closely at the little guy as he ate. "Maybe he's Jewish. I mean, if Sammy Davis Jr. could convert to Judaism, why not a chupacabra? We should name him Harry Mendelbaum." I held up my arms in protest. "You're all racist. Now shut up. We'll call him Taco von Precious of Svenenstein. There, everybody happy?" "Isn't von the same thing as of?" Frank asked. "Wouldn't that be kind of redundant?" "You're redundant, " I said.
Attempts to limit female mobility by hampering locomotion are ancient and almost universal. The foot-binding of upper-class Chinese girls and the Nigerian custom of loading women's legs with pounds of heavy brass wire are extreme examples, but all over the world similar stratagems have been employed to make sure that once you have caught a woman she cannot run away, and even if she stays around she cannot keep up with you. ... Literally as well as figuratively modern women's shoes are what keeps Samantha from running as fast as Sammy.
What is it with Dictators and Writers, anyway? Since before the infamous Caesar-Ovid war they've had beef. Like the Fantastic Four and Galactus, like the X-Men and the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, like the Teen Titans and Deathstroke, Foreman and Ali, Morrison and Crouch, Sammy and Sergio, they seemed destined to be eternally linked in the Halls of Battle. Rushdie claims that tyrants and scribblers are natural antagonists, but I think that's too simple; it lets writers off pretty easy. Dictators, in my opinion, just know competition when they see it. Same with writers. Like, after all, recognizes like.
No, he focused on the one thing that he knew would keep him grounded the way the demon said he'd need to be. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can - don't look back. Now, Dean, go!" Sam's not dying. Not on my watch. You protect your family no matter what. I'm coming for you, Sammy. Just hold tight. And don't look back. He opened his eyes. Behind him, he could hear Kat's voice muttering an incantation in a language he didn't recognize. It wasn't Latin, certainly. Since it was demon magic, it was probably some language that was even more dead than Latin. The chanting stopped. Dean screamed.
Keith R.A. DeCandido
Now give me some advice about how to take full advantage of this city. I'm always looking to improve my odds.' 'Just what I'd expect from a horny actuary.' 'I'm serious.' Carlos reflected for a moment on the problem at hand. He actually had never needed or tried to take full advantage of the city in order to meet women, but he thought about all of his friends who regularly did. His face lit up as he thought of some helpful advice: 'Get into the arts.' 'The arts?' 'Yeah.' 'But I'm not artistic.' 'It doesn't matter. Many women are into the arts. Theater. Painting. Dance. They love that stuff.' 'You want me to get into dance? Earthquakes have better rhythm than me... And can you really picture me in those tights?' 'Take an art history class. Learn photography. Get involved in a play or an independent film production. Get artsy, Sammy. I'm telling you, the senoritas dig that stuff.' 'Really?' 'Yeah. You need to sign up for a bunch of artistic activities. But you can't let on that it's all just a pretext to meet women. You have to take a real interest in the subject or they'll quickly sniff out your game.' 'I don't know... It's all so foreign to me... I don't know the first thing about being artistic.' 'Heeb, this is the time to expand your horizons. And you're in the perfect city to do it. New York is all about reinventing yourself. Get out of your comfort zones. Become more of a Renaissance man. That's much more interesting to women.
O YEAH I'M BRAND NEW LIKE YOU HAVEN'T UNWRAPPED IT HEAD OVER HEELS GOT BLOGGERS DOIN' BACK FLIPS AM WHERE I AM CAUSE MY FANS AND SOME PRACTICE I COULD GO FOR 90, BET THE KID IS MATCH FIT GIRLS ON MY PAGE WRITING SAMMY IS A BASTARD THINKING THAT THEY SPECIAL, BUT GOT TREATED LIKE THE LAST CHICK KNOWING THAT MY FAN BASE STRETCHES LIKE ELASTIC JAW DROPPIN' BEATS LIKE IT'S BETTER THAN THE LAST SHIT BUT STILL, I'M IN THE PAINT BY THE BASKET THIS THAT ONE TAKE NEW FLOW STRAIGHT CLASSIC YEAH I SEE THE TRUTH SHINING BRIGHT IF YOU LOOK CLOSE RAPPERS DROPPING NAMES FORGOT TO ADD THE FOOTNOTES IN ALL HONESTY, HATING'S NOT A PART OF ME RESPECT'S IN MY BLOOD, I DON'T NEED A BIBLIOGRAPHY I SHOW LOVE CAUSE THAT'S WHAT I'VE ALWAYS DUG IF YA ASS AIN'T GOT A SHOVEL GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE MUD IT'S SANDBOX I'M SMALLS FIRST TIME ON THE SANDLOT TRYIN' TO LEARN THE RULES MAYBE GET MYSELF A DAMN SHOT YEAH, I'M HITTIN' VEINS YOU COULD HAVE NEVER DRAWN PUMPIN' BLOOD NO RUBBER BANDS AROUND THE ARM BUT LOOKING BACK WHEN I STARTED AS A CRITICS YOUNG TO MAKIN' HITS WITH A GRIN AS THE CROWD APPLAUSE, PAUSE I'M DIGGING DEEPER WITH MY GRITTY PAWS TRYIN' TO GET IT POPPIN' WITH A PRESENCE NO SANTA CLAUS YEAH, AND I'M THE SPITTER WHO DEFIES THE LAWS BRINGING THE HEAT, UNEXPECTED LIKE SOME MENOPAUSE HA, I NEVER THOUGHT THAT ONE OF MY SONGS WOULD SPREAD QUICK ON A THOUSAND DIFFERENT IPODS YEAH, I'M HUMAN AND I GOT BENIGN FLOWS RAPPING WITH THE COMPETITION CHILLIN' UP IN MY JAWS THINKING IN MY MIND HOW TO WRITE MY WRONGS TURNING ALL THIS CHANGE INTO ENDS THAT DEFY LAWS CUT IT OUT I WASN'T TALKING 'BOUT THE BEAT THOUGH AIMIN' TO MAKE EM GET THE POINT LIKE A FREE THROW TELL MY GIRL TO PLEASE RECLINE MY SEAT SLOW KNOWING THAT I'M COLDER THAN THE BOTTOM OF A SKI POLE AND IF IT'S SNOWING IN THE CITY I'M GETTING BLOWN WITH A COUPLE BITCHES DOWN TO RIDE WHERE HE GOES LATE NIGHT IN THE JACUZZI WITH THE SAME HOES CATCHIN' BRAINS PUFFIN ON THEM MONTE CHRISTOS UHHH I'M BACK ON MY SPITTAH SHIT BACK, BA-BACK, BACK ON MY SPITTAH SHIT YEAH, YOU KNOW I'M BACK ON MY SPITTAH SHIT BACK, BA-BACK, BACK ON MY SPITTAH SHIT