I didn't know the guy, but I liked the guy. I mean, New Year's Rockin' Eve, $25,000 Pyramid, American Bandstand.
Hell, I even liked his restaurant, which had a brief appearance in Columbus, Ohio, in the early 90's before closing up shop.
Truth, be told, and all stroke and Ryan Seacrest sex jokes aside - Dick Clark was a pretty cool guy.
But, what made Dick Clark even way cooler in my mind, might be something that's not even true.
So, I'm not sure where I heard this rumor (or truth). Maybe it was in journalism class at The Ohio State University. Maybe I read it in a book. Maybe I was smoking pot with some professor - a' la Donald Sutherland in Animal House but more female - and they whispered it into my ear. I'm not sure.
Whatever the situation, the rumor that I heard was that Dick Clark had a big book of assholes.
Now when I say assholes, I'm not saying that Dick Clark had a book of human sphincter's that he physically chiseled from the butts of both dead and alive human bodies (For a second, let's think about the movie Hostel 2).
No, if this book even exists, it was a different type of tome.
As the story goes, Dick Clark had a list of names of people who treated him like shit during his various trials and tribulations in the Hollywood trenches and during his eventual path to super stardom.
Think about it. It's a great idea.
Picture a young innocent Dick Clark knocking on various Hollywood doors asking for a job, money or advice in how to succeed in this tough-as-nails business. Only to have said person(s) on the other side hurl some sort of snarky insult, hock a loogie into his innocent, boyish face and slam the door.
Does this up-and-coming celebrity rest on his laurels and accept his fate? Hell no! Mr. Clark whips out his journal and jots down the name of said asshole (for all intensive purposes, let's call this producer person Jake the Snake) and proceeds to stride on down the street and knock on someone else's door.
Okay now, let's say 15 years goes by. Since that time, Dick Clark has achieved his millions of dollars and mounds of success. On this particular day, he's enjoying a day off at one of his mansions swimming in a pile of gold like Scrooge McDuck in DuckTales.
That's when the doorbell rings.
Dick wraps a towel around his boyish (did I say boyish twice?) frame and answers the door to find Jake the Snake with a big smile on his face.
"Haven't we met before?" Dick asks the older, puffier Snake.
"Oh, no, no, Mr. Clark," says Snake as a droplet of sweat rolls down the side of his face. "I'm sure we both would have remembered."
But Dick Clark, who has met so many different people in his mucho years in this business can't seem to place Mr. Snake. So, he invites this man into his humble abode and listens to his 'pitch'.
But something isn't right. This guy looks familiar to Dick. That's when Dick excuses himself, hops up the steps to his 15,000-square foot bedroom and opens up his hallowed book - which I'm picturing placed on some sort of wooden altar worthy of a Pope's sermon.
In any event, Dick scans his book, which, by now, is etched with thousand and thousands of names and, Voila!, he comes across Jake the Snake's name - including the exact date and circumstances on how he became an official asshole in Mr. Clark's mind.
A pensive Dick Clark pushes a red button on the wooden altar and two metallic body guards appear. Then, they proceed to follow Mr. Clark down the steps, beat the living shit out of Jake the Snake and throw him to the curb.
Or something awesome like that.
Well, although I'm not powerful (yet) or have achieved any sort of literary super stardom (yet), I myself have a big book of assholes. Well, it's more like a smallish list.
This list is made up of people whom I've worked for that have pissed me off, people who have said nasty things to my wife and my family, company leaders that refused to hire me for one reason or another, and some people who are, quite frankly, just real arrogant dickheads.
And now, I would like to share that list with you:
(scroll down to see if you made the list!)
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Just kidding. This particular list will remain in my head for all eternity. Or, at the very least, until you want something from me. Then you'll know.
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