Private Parts (48 page)

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Authors: Howard Stern

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BOOK: Private Parts
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"I'm a big fan of his. He's the best. Howard's the King of Shock Radio." - Sam Kinison

Sam went up, read the cue cards, and got his deal with Fox a few weeks later.

He thanked me, and he finally fucking sobered up.

The next time Sam came in, he was totally sober. About an hour into the show I kiddingly said, "You know, you're much funnier drunk!"

Even though Sam boasted that he had just finished fifty days at AA, he was looking for any excuse to start drinking again.

He ordered a few bottles of Dom Perignon and started swigging away.

And you know what? Sam
was
a lot funnier drunk.

David Brenner came on and started talking about his custody battle with his ex-wife. David couldn't believe how drunk Sam was. "David," Sam said, slurring his every word, "he's expecting me to make a comment... on your custody battle but... I won't. I wouldn't offend you. Howard keeps looking at me like 'Go. Snap. Snap like a rabid dog in the fifteenth century' No, I won't do it. I love David Brenner. He's one of my heroes."

"How are you gonna get sober in time for Joan Rivers?" I asked Sam. He was due at her show in a few hours, which, of course, he missed when he later passed out drunk in his hotel room.

"How do you know I'm drunk? How do you know this isn't just an act? People expect a certain behavior pattern out of me, and I'm only trying to supply them with what they think the image of me is!" he said.

"We just got a fax from a guy who said
he's
drunk from listening to you," I said.


Sam prowling backstage at my

Nassau Coliseum "U.S. Open Sores'

show.

"Who sent that in? Dice Clay or his assistant Hot Tub Johnny West, the sewer boy I smacked around with rings I won't even wear anymore because they touched his skull?!" Sam roared.

"Let me ask David Brenner something." I tried to get a word in edgewise.

"Yeah, you ask him why Dice's concert movie didn't make as much as gay porno.
Do It to Me You Nasty Sailor
made ten grand more than Dice's concert movie," Sam said.

Another bottle of champagne was delivered to Sam. He got so loud that Robin had to scream to do her news report. Robin did a story about Teddy Kennedy and I was about to start in with my analysis when Sam butted in.

"He was never a real Kennedy! Teddy was the Shemp of the Kennedys! He wasn't Moe, he wasn't Curly -- he was the Shemp of Kennedys."

At this point, Sam was almost delirious. He was so drunk he missed his appearance on "The Joan Rivers Show" and when the Letterman people found out, they canceled his appearance that night, too. He was on a roll... down. But he didn't give a shit. He was a real outlaw.

Sam never shook his fondness for drugs. He was always drinking and doing coke. One time he invited me to his house in L.A., which he was really proud of. "Everyone thinks I'm a real scumbag and I don't live nice, but look at this place." First we went out to dinner. We went to The Palm or some shit. Sam told me he was swearing off coke and was going to get healthy. At dinner he announced, "I'm gonna eat healthy." So he ordered a lot of fried shit and steaks and I said, "Sam, that's not healthy." "What do you eat that's healthy?" he asked. "I know what I'm gonna order. Spinach. That's healthy, right?" So he ordered spinach. It was cream of spinach with globs of butter. He turned to me and said, "See, I can eat healthy stuff. It tastes good." He was serious. That spinach had about ten million calories. He had no concept of how to diet. But he was getting healthy.

Then we got into his car. He had a little black Trans Am. He used to drive Corvettes, but he kept smashing them up. He would drive them into trees. Then he would call one of his assistants and get him to sit there so when the police showed up there would be someone to blame for the accident. He had such a bad driving record because he was always high.

He was so proud of this Trans Am because he had put in one of those ten-CD players. He couldn't believe how great this thing was. So we got into the car to drive to his house after dinner and his girlfriend, Malika, decided to put me in the front seat.

Robin and Malika got in the back. The reason they got in the back was because of the way Sam drove.
No one
wanted to be in the death seat with Sam. I was screaming, "I don't want to be in the death seat!" He was saying, "No. No. Don't worry. It'll be fine."

Sam started driving and he couldn't keep his mind on the road. He was so excited about his CD player with all its buttons that he kept reaching over and fucking with it. Now, he was using both hands to operate the music, he wasn't even looking at the road -- and
he was driving with his belly.
He was actually holding the wheel with his belly driving this car. I was totally nipping out at this point, screaming that he was probably high and he was going to get us killed, and he was completely nonchalant.

"Shut off the fucking music," I said.

"No," he said. "You've got to check out this Mötley Crüe CD, and besides, I'm not doing drugs because of my heart. I went to a doctor because I was having heart palpitations."

"Great," I thought. He was on heart medicine. Medicine to calm him down.

I started to relax, then Malika yelled out, "The pills put him to sleep."

He drove up to his house with his belly. Then he gave us a tour of his castle. The pool was heated to something like a hundred and fifty degrees because he didn't know how to operate the thermostat. Steam was coming off it like a cauldron. He hadn't figured out how to lower the temperature since he'd moved in a year ago. It was a fifty-degree night and the pool was evaporating rapidly, so he kept the hose constantly going.

Then he took me out on his porch in the Hollywood Hills, which had an incredible postcard view. He was so proud.

"Look! Look! Look at how beautiful my view is! I live like a king!"

We turned to go back in. Sam's castle was more like a dungeon. The dilapidated door was badly in need of repair and it had locked behind us. We couldn't get back in. Some castle. Sam was pounding on the door, screaming to get in. I was laughing hysterically, but Sam was upset. He had failed to impress me.

Now he was popping heart pills like crazy.

No way he was off drugs. He was on heart medicine. And it was a sedative!

Then he insisted on driving us back to the hotel, which was stupid, because it then became a race to get back to the hotel before his heart medicine kicked in. Good thing he ate a full meal.

As he was driving he said, "I'm going to be real drowsy in a few minutes."

Oh, great! And I was in the death seat again. Suddenly we passed the billboard for his new record album on Sunset Boulevard. He saw it and had a fit because someone had put graffiti all over it.
Boom,
he slammed on his brakes and started backing up in traffic.

He was driving backward, he was falling asleep, and I was screaming like crazy. "Sam! Hurry up! Your heart medicine's going to kick in!"

"Fuck it, some prick drew all over my face." Sam was on fire.

Miraculously, we made it to the hotel in one piece. I could have ended up like road pizza the way he did a few months later.

Still, Sam had a very tender human side for all his wild antics. There was a moment that sticks in my mind to this day.

It was so out of character for him.

Sam always dressed rock 'n' roll and it was odd to me that he didn't have any earrings or tattoos. He had heavy metal T-shirts cut the right way, bandannas and rock 'n' roll pants.

One day I said, "Sam, let's go get our ears pierced." I was on my third hole already.

"Oh, I'd love to," he said, "but I can't."

"Why not?" I asked.


Sam...getting looser backstage.


Sam with the loves of his life: wife Malika (right) and her sister,

Sabrina (left).

"My mother will
kill
me," he said seriously. "If she sees me with an earring she'll beat the shit out of me!"

Here was the rock 'n' roll bad boy of comedy whose public displays of drinking, coking, and whoring were chronicled in every newspaper in the country, and he was worried about some little hole in his ear.

I didn't think Sam gave a shit what anyone thought of him, but he cared what his mother thought.

By the end of his life, he was trying to get it all together. He came on my show with his soon-to-be wife Malika.

Then Sam went into explicit detail about his affair with Malika's sister, Sabrina. For years the two sisters had lived in the same house with Sam. For years, Sam had always clowned around about getting Sabrina in bed, but Sabrina wouldn't have anything to do with him. Then things changed. Sabrina changed her mind.

They devised an elaborate plan to hide their hot affair from Malika. Sam would sneak out of the house under the guise of going for videos and would meet Sabrina at a nearby motel. What broke it up, ironically, was that Sam discovered the ugly truth. Sabrina was

cheating on
him!
He felt that was wrong! Can you believe it? I would argue with him about it. "But Sam," I'd say, "you're cheating on her, with her own sister!"

Sam missed the point.

"But I loved her and she broke my heart. She cheated on me, so I threw her out!" he cried.

"Did he come home smelling like videotapes?" I asked.

"He was real quick, forty minutes, an hour," Malika said.

"Your sister wasn't that good," Sam lied.

Sam told us how he broke the news to Malika. They were staying in the Cary Grant Suite at the Dunes in Las Vegas when he told her that his weiner fell into the wrong place on the way to the video store.

Sam said, "Malika, I cheated on you with your sister. If you want to break up with me, I'll understand, but I don't want to break up with you. I love you and I've never loved you more. And I promise -- and I'll keep this promise -- that I will never lie to you again, and I'll never cheat on you again. Unless it's your idea and we like the girl an awful lot," Sam said.

I thought he was kidding, but he wasn't. Malika, who is a strikingly sexy beauty, then proceeded to give us a detailed description of how she went out and picked out girls to bring home for the two of them.

"Oh, this is straining the little Cub Scout in my shorts," I moaned. "When's the last time this happened, Malika?" She just laughed. "Was it last night? It was last night, wasn't it, you devil."

Seven months later Sam was killed on a highway in California when his car was hit head-on by a seventeen-year-old kid in a pickup truck. Sam was on his way to a gig in Vegas. He had just married Malika, and, oddly enough, they were scheduled to call in to my show the next day. We had an on-air wake for him, and Corey Feldman, Jessica Hahn, Richard Simmons, and Joan Rivers all called and shared Sam stories. A few days later, we presented a more formal tribute, replaying a lot of Sam's old appearances. Norman Lear called in during the tribute and gave his own epitaph for Sam: "In the land of the walking dead, he was a very live one."

Sam could have written his own epitaph. He once told me, "I have lived a carnal life. My view of life is 'If you're going to miss Heaven, why miss it by two inches? Miss it!' I don't have to go

through the thing of paying for it in the next life. I know I'm screwed in the next life."

A few months later I went on the air with another thought about Sam. I thought that instead of burying Sam we should have taken his body on tour. The Sam Kinison Funeral Tour. We could have put Sam in formaldehyde like they did Marcos. We could have stuffed him, like Trigger. Don't laugh, Trigger did thirty-five states in four months and made a fortune!

Sam could have kept that date he had in Vegas. It would have been beautiful. We could have played a tape and worked his mouth by remote control. We could have had an Ice Follies section, where we put Sam on skates. And talk about reviving his movie career. Sam Kinison in
Weekend at Bernie's, Part 3.
Hey, now every studio would love him, he'd be so reliable. Sam Kinison as
The Mummy.
Sam Kinison in
Awakenings.
He could have played a totem pole in any Indian movie. He'd be a pleasure on Letterman. Jessica could invite him over without any fear of a mess. You wouldn't even need a stunt-man for him. You want him to fall out of a building? Just drop him. I'm telling you, the Sam Kinison Funeral Tour -- it would have been huge. And the funny thing is, Sam would have totally dug it.

I really miss the guy.

Another Lesbian Story

Va-Gina Girl
Chapter 16

It's time for a good lesbian story. You can never get enough lesbians. I had a regular caller named Gina cheer me up with a hot lesbian story after I had just come back from my vacation. Gina had previously sent me nude pictures of herself, so I looked at them as I listened to her story of LESBIAN LUST at a nudist colony! No one who hears these stories on the air ever thinks the girls are good-looking. Well, now I have proof. Now for the first time in publishing history you can look at her pictures while you read her story.

Gina and her boyfriend had gone to a nudist campground where she met up with another couple.

"I met this really hot-looking girl there. She was swimming in the pool, and I was lying on the side of the pool. She came over and sat down next to me and we started talking and swimming. She was real nice-looking. Kinda small-framed, like me. Blondish hair, muscular. Medium chest."

"Were you immediately attracted?" I asked. "Yeah," Gina purred. "We got to know each other, played around swimming, and you could tell each of us was attracted to the other person. That night there was a dance. Everyone came kind of dressed." "What do you mean, kind of?" I probed.

"Half on and half off. I wore a white skirt so I could pull it up and I had nothing on underneath. She had a white spandex dress on. So we started dancing together," Gina said. "It started off fast but we had our tops off by the end of that dance. Then we started dancing slow and I hiked up my skirt for that. We were holding each other tight. Then we started kissing."

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