Private Parts (43 page)

The next morning we came on and the phones were burning up. Quite a few of the callers had been to Sam's show at Rascal's the night before and they reported that 90 percent of the place was chanting "HOWARD" and "DICEMAN." Sam had flipped out and said, "Screw Howard. Who the hell is he? I planned that scam yesterday.

Howard had to be taken down a step or two." One caller even said that at one point Sam got thirsty and asked a ringside spectator for a sip of his water. The guy said he was a Howard listener and another guy yelled out, "Spit in it first, then give it to him." How great was this? My fans were tormenting Kinison at his own show!

Finally, we got another call. This one was from Sam.

"I haven't changed, man. It was a practical joke and I'm sorry, I didn't know you were going to freak out and turn on me like a rabid dog, man," Sam said.

"Hey man, you made me look like a jerk," I fumed. Sam had expected me to just forget about it. My defiant tone meant a fight was brewing.

"My girls aren't bitches. All you did was turn on me, man," Sam complained. "Man, you hurt my feelings."

"I'm hurt, too," I said.

"I don't know if I can forgive this stuff. You're a vicious fucking guy, man," Sam said.

"If I'm a vicious dude, you're just as vicious as me. I don't get the point of the joke," I countered. This went on for the rest of the conversation. There was no coming together, we were both too hurt.

"I made a mistake, you got press out of it. You can ride this for a week, it'll help ratings." All of a sudden, Sam was a general manager.

"You didn't care what happened yesterday morning," Robin interjected.

"Robin, you're such a snake. You're both vicious people. You deserve each other and I hope you have a great career together," Sam said and then he hung up.

I was bummed. I couldn't believe what had happened. But I couldn't forgive Sam.

The next day, Sam called up from the airport and apologized. I was momentarily disarmed, but the following day, after hearing a tape of his remarks about me at his Rascal's show, I was too hurt again.

"I really respect his work and wish we were still doing stuff on the radio but in all good conscience, man, I can't have this guy back on anymore. He's dead to me. I don't want to make a habit of people burning me. You burn Carson, you don't get back on Carson. So good night, funny man."

I missed Sam and he missed me. Almost every day I'd get on the air and moan about our feud, but we were both too proud and stubborn to make up. But leave it to Sam, he thought of a comedic way

to get back on the show. We were having a radiothon to raise money for Danny Philbin, Regis's wheelchair-bound abandoned kid. In the middle of this event Sam called up from L.A. and donated $500. That was the icebreaker. Sam was back on the A-list.

JESSICA DUMPS ON SAM

(AFTER SAM DUMPS IN HER ROOM)

This was an excellent radio war. It started when Jessica Hahn got upset with Sam because he had a short fling with her, used her in his "Wild Thing" video, and then never called her. Meanwhile, Sam was pissed at Jessica because the
National Enquirer
ran a story about this three-hundred-pound ex-preacher, Sam, who was in love with this starlet, Jessica Hahn. Sam was convinced that Jessica had leaked the story and had gotten paid for it. Jessica was so mad at being spurned that she came on our show and said that Sam had fallen asleep inside her while they were making love. The stage was set for fireworks.

It started with Sam on the show. Jessica called in and told Sam she felt used by him. She even mentioned she sprang for the outfit she wore in the video. Sam offered to pay her for her appearance.

"I don't want your money," said Jessica.

"DON'T EVEN START IN, YOU COW-FACED LOSER! I'LL COME AFTER YOU LIKE YOU WON'T BELIEVE!" Sam screamed.

They argued about who made what allegation on what tabloid TV show.

Jessica, remarkably, was holding her own.

"You think because your mom died you're the only one that knows tragedy?" Sam suddenly said. Jessica's mother had just died that week after a long bout with cancer. It was a low blow.

"All I did was call because.. ."Jessica started but Sam interrupted her.

"Yeah, do another Mr. Ed routine, babe, while your mom's dying."

That was the coup de grace. A few days earlier, Jessica had taped a radio bit with me in which she had sex with Mr. Ed. Unfortunately, on the same day, her mother died. She had no idea that her mother would die that day, and we had, out of respect to Jessica, held off playing the bit. Now Sam was using this in a dirty, vicious sneak attack. What a dastardly guy. What sleazy underhanded tactics.

What great radio! Jessica started crying, then she hung up. The feud was on, big time.

A few days later Jessica called and was ready to spill her guts. She got on the air and told me the most embarrassing story I've ever heard in my life. Yes, it was true that Sam had fallen asleep inside of her. They'd checked into a hotel for a big romantic night. Sam had been doing lots of coke and beer, drinking tremendous amounts of alcohol that day. They made love and he fell asleep. An hour or two later, Sam got out of bed and was "making a big racket," Jessica said. The room was dark and Sam was banging into things. Sam was looking for the bathroom, but was so out of it, he just lost control. He began to shit all over the floor. As he was walking he was blasting away. It was a big pile, like the kind an elephant leaves behind. Sam unloaded and without flinching strolled back to the bed and went right back to sleep.

Now mind you, Jessica is telling us this romantic story, making herself out to be Florence Nightingale. In order to protect Sam from tabloid gossip, Jessica said she needed to clean up the room. If the maids saw a big pile on the floor of Sam Kinison's room, they'd phone the
Enquirer.
Jessica Nightingale told us she quickly wiped up the

shit with towels and wrapped up everything in big sheets. Then she took the brown-stained bedding down the hall and left it in front of someone else's room. Then she crept through the halls, grabbed Windex from the maid's cart, and cleaned the stains from the carpet. Sam woke up the next morning as if nothing had happened. In fact, he probably didn't even remember what he had done.

Well, the story was fantastic and made for an unforgettable morning of radio. The next logical step was to milk it for all it was worth.

A few weeks later, when Sam came on, I played him the tape of this conversation!

"OH, MAN!" Sam exploded. Not literally, thank God. "OH, MAN! DUDE, THIS IS WAR! WHAT'S AMNESTY SPELLED BACKWARDS?"

"How long will it take for Sam's face to turn purple?" I wondered aloud.

"Watch my face turn purple. Believe me, not only did she make this up, but you accept $260,000 of extorted money from misappropriated funds from a church and it's in your account, doesn't this make you an accessory to conspiracy to blackmail? She ought to be in the cell right next to Bakker. Oh, dude, I'm frothing, man!"

Now I knew Sam was pissed. He had used "dude" and "man" in the same sentence.

Sam was almost choking on his cough lozenges.

"Let me tell you something. She's a sick pig. I've had it with her jealousy. She couldn't get me. She offered herself to me and I fell asleep inside her. That's the worst insult you can pay a woman, right, Robin? That's when the war started. I thought we made up. IS THERE ANY MEAT LEFT ON THE CARCASS!? How did Jessica get off on charges of conspiracy to blackmail? Believe me, if we had knowledge of that, we would be busted.
Plus she gave bad head!"

It was almost time to go off the air, so I plugged Sam's show that night.

"There may only be ten people there. They might be afraid I'm going to defecate on them from the stage," Sam said. "When I shit in the hotel room, maybe I was just trying to make her a little breakfast."

SAM AND I BOTH DUMP ON DICE

(FIGURATIVELY, THIS TIME)

Why was Sam always in the middle of these fights? Come to think of it, this one might never have started if it wasn't for that Satanic Sam goading me on. Sam was in the studio one day when Andrew "Dice" Clay called in. Robin and I had been pursuing Dice for an exclusive interview about the circumstances behind his getting banned for life from MTV. That morning, I had heard from one of my listeners in Philly that Dice had actually gone on the air there first with one of my radio competitors. Dice called in and tried to smooth things over, but I wasn't buying. I let him know I was disappointed and I cut the conversation short. This was Sam's chance to goad me into a war with Dice, his hated rival. At the time, Sam had about twelve naked tits circling his head (we had some strippers in the studio that morning). After a while, Sam's prodding got to me.

"That's it! Dice is banned from the show!" I pronounced.

"Then I respect you as a man and I'm there for you," Sam said.

"SAM KINISON IS THE NUMBER ONE COMIC IN THE WORLD," I proclaimed.

"You're cute," Sam cooed. "I'd be your woman."

Sam was pretty good at getting in the middle of a fight. His next time on the show, we called Kathy, Dice's ex-wife, in Los Angeles. Sam tried to squeeze dirt out of her and get her to confirm what he had heard, that Dice didn't want people to know she was married to him -- this while she was supporting the guy for three years! Kathy did say their divorce was ugly.

"It's a sad and sick story," I said indignantly. "I am so shocked by what I heard. For a man to deny his marriage ..."

This probably put Dice over the top. A month later he was playing a sold-out show at the Spectrum in Philly and the crowd was packed with Stern supporters. At the first sign of "HOWARD" chanting, the Diceman flipped out.

"What are you fucking yelling 'Howard Stern' for? He's just jealous 'cause I talked to another radio show and he's got nothing better to do than rip me apart, that insecure cocksucker. Nobody fucks with Dice, Dice does the fucking. Nobody."

All of a sudden, he saw a huge "STERN RULES" banner. I LOVE MY PANS!

"All right, sit down, jerkoff. What are you showing me, 'STERN

RULES'? But you're at my show, ha ha ha. C'mon, stop jerking yourselves off. He's using you fucking people for his ratings. Not Diceman. I come out, I deliver. How much did he pay you to sit in the front row and show me that sign? He's a deejay asshole. I'm the biggest comic to ever walk the earth! So he could wipe his ass with your sign, too. Hold it up. Yeah, beautiful. You did your job, collect your fifty bucks from Stern in the morning."

The man was obviously losing it. Dice stayed banned from my show for over a year. During that time, Sam took every opportunity to publicly flog him and challenge him to comedy showdowns. He claimed that Dice had stolen his whole act from him. But I missed Dice. Finally, we both agreed to bury the hatchet. Dice came in with his entourage -- Hot Tub Johnny, Dutch Edsel, and Downtown Ronnie -- and a photographer to record this historic reconciliation. We hugged emotionally.

"I don't care if you go on other shows," I said magnanimously. "This is a nice reunion. Hey, your ex-wife said she masterminded your career." Dice was in the middle of an ugly alimony suit with Kathy.

"I can't talk about her," Dice said.

"She won't get a dime," I said brightly. "Don't worry about it." God, am I a diplomat.

Before long, we got around to talking about Sam. Maybe they could make up, too.

"I wouldn't be friends with Sam. He's garbage. He started a fight with my bodyguard Hot Tub Johnny in the Comedy Store. Sam comes over to Johnny and he goes, 'I ain't afraid of Dice.' Sam wouldn't tell it to my face 'cause the guy's a pussy, that's the bottom line. I kept quiet for two years while this bloated animal destroyed his career by talking about me. So he starts calling Johnny names and makes like he's gonna hit him and he goes to Johnny, 'What are you gonna do about it?' Johnny goes, 'Lay a hand on me.'

"So Sam, with five guys around him, grabs Johnny by the throat. Johnny bangs him one in the face, Tubby goes down. He banged him right in his big, fat, bloated two-thousand-pound head. Now he jumps on that fat bastard's back, he just jumps on him like a waterbed, right, and he rips that dirty rag Sam wears on his head right off, and holds it up and sees Sam is bald from the ears up. Now Sam's guys are jumping on Johnny, but Johnny is dragging all of them
and
Sam through the Comedy Store to the bathroom. Johnny's

strong, you don't mess with Johnny. So now he sees Sam's a contestant for the new fat Mr. Clean.

"He drags Sam into the bathroom and all Sam's guys are jumping over Johnny but Johnny's pushing them off. He's got Sam in a head-lock and he's looking in the mirror and he's going, 'Sam, tell me what you see.' And Sam's going, 'I'm Bozo, I'm Bozo the Clown. I'm a big, fat, bastard Bozo.' Johnny let him go, but we kept the rag. Now it's a bit in the act."

HOWARD VS. ALL OF L.A. AND THE SEX-CRAZED MAGIC

Hey, I don't only take on comedians who need to get back on my show to sell out their gigs. I take on whole cities at a time. One of those times was right after we got the news that Magic Johnson had tested positive for HIV. Of course I felt bad. But the media was honoring Magic as if he had just come back from World War II and had sacrificed his life for the honor of his country. The hero worship was sickening. And what I told my listeners was that Magic was pretty damn irresponsible to get it in the first place. It wasn't as if he got infected through a bad blood transfusion or from his dentist. No, this guy came down with it because he had incredible amounts of unprotected sex. Everyone was afraid to talk about Magic in an honest way. The press blasted me. Hate mail poured in. Ironically, after the story was out for a few weeks many newspaper columnists and editorial writers ended up saying the same thing -- that Magic was a womanizer who, in this day and age, should have worn rubbers.

Some role model! He was out banging every night, the guy wouldn't stop. Unless we stop that kind of behavior, we're doomed as a human race. Look, we all want to see a cure for AIDS. But the cure exists. Instead of taking a magic pill or a shot, take your penis and put it back in your pants. And if you want to get some male ass, what you do is you go to a doctor and you both get checked and you stay with each other till death do you part. No more glory-holing.