We have a lot for which we should be thankful. Kittens, butterflies, rainbows and sunshine; and Samuel L. Jackson. This year, I give my thanks for a man with the versatility of a soldering iron and the perspicacity of a cloistered monk.
Samuel L. Jackson was born in Washington, D.C. in 1948. During his youth in Tennessee, he fashioned utensils from animal bones and learned to survive for months at a time with no source of water. By the age of 12, he had already stopped most crime in Chattanooga and learned to say “shut the f*** up, motherf*****!” in four languages. He was an instant success in plays and whatnot until Spike Lee saw his badassitude and hooked him up with some movie work. He had drinking and drug problems, but, like many other things to come, he beat them into submission. The rest, as they say, is history; he made us “hang on to our butts” in Jurassic Park, philosophized in Pulp Fiction, inflicted painful justice in Shaft, and showed that there could be a time to kill in A Time to Kill. In addition, he’s been in pretty much every other movie.
Jackson is one of this nation’s greatest natural resources, and we truly have cause to be thankful this day for his enormous contribution to acting in the United States, and, indeed, the world. Here’s to you, Sam:
I’m actually very ordinary, except people get to pay their money to come watch me work. The same way that we go to McDonald’s…we don’t care about the guy behind the counter, but if he was doing something special, we’d pay our money to go watch him cook that hamburger.