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For the first time since he was hired as a Plain Dealer Metro columnist seven years ago, Sam Fulwood III has expressed a coherent opinion: Editor Doug Clifton is mean.

Clifton did his best last week to make Fulwood's "reassignment" to the Arts & Life section not seem like what it was. "Sam's rich background as a reporter and his familiarity with pop culture will serve us well in his new job," Clifton was quoted as saying in a PD story last Friday. Translation: "We can't fire him, so let's at least put him somewhere he can't write about regionalism, his car, or his e-mail box."

But Sammy wasn't about to go quietly. In a telephone interview with Channel 5 last week, he dished the dirt on what had really happened between him and Clifton. It provided a glimpse into an extremely awkward meeting, in which Clifton tried to delicately break it to Fulwood that, well, his column wasn't even worth using as TP. It had no relevance, no point, and frankly made you want to shoot somebody. (To experience this for yourself, visit C-Notes' complete Fulwood Watch archive.)

"I don't agree with that," Sammy told Channel 5, from his native North Carolina. (It's not clear whether he traveled there after his demotion or if he never actually lived in Cleveland.) "I think my columns were fine. I got great community response." By "great," he likely meant that it was great how he could write one column, then copy and paste all the hate mail from it into two more columns.

Stay tuned for Sammy's first feature story in the Arts & Life section, expected to be a stinging essay on how his television screen makes everyone's face on American Idol look purple. -- Jared Klaus

C-Notes is pleased to report — and yet somehow deeply saddened — that Sam Fulwood III, The Laziest Man in Journalism� and the newspaper industry's career leader in irrelevance, has been stripped of his duties as a Plain Dealer Metro columnist. Folks at The PD say Fulwood will stay with the paper but will no longer occupy his prime B-1 real estate.

The buzz in the newsroom is that Sam was about to go on a shooting spree after hearing the news -- until he realized it interfered with his afternoon nap. The other buzz is that Op-Ed columnist Phil Morris will move to the high-profile Metro spot, writing about stuff on the days Regina Brett can't find any drunk-drivers to nail. Morris wouldn't say whether that was true, but his email smelled like champagne and money, so I'm pretty sure it is.

As for Sam, it's unclear what he'll do next. Shockingly, after all we've done for them, neither Sam nor PD Editor Doug Clifton immediately returned my calls or emails.

If Sam is given the freedom to choose his next gig, expect a three-part series on his new stain-resistant khakis, penned by Legacy Village Bureau Chief Sam Fulwood III. If the paper picks his next job, expect to see Fulwood driving around in a topaz Elantra, weakly tossing papers toward your porch before taking a six-week leave for his bursitis.

Even more uncertain is the future of Fulwood Watch. For months, C-Notes' has chronicled the adventures of Sam and his trusted intern, Cheryl. The feature is apparently a fan favorite in The PD newsroom. I'm sure Sam saved every edition for his scrapbook.

Scene executives are planned high-level meetings to discuss the feature's future. They also have commissioned a focus group in order to gather valuable community input. His name is Tim. He's a roofer, and he drinks tequila with a straw. — Joe P. Tone

We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To

Headline: Snow uncovers regional needs

Date: April 10, 2007

Topic: After his 1,328th column on regionalism last week, you probably figured Sammy would return to his roots — perhaps a heart-warming tale of an NBA player who wears shoes from Value City. But just to keep things interesting, Sammy decided to switch it up on us . . . by writing yet another article about regionalism.

Originality: 0/10. The April snowstorm might have gone unpredicted. But the fact that Sammy would be the first to jump on it as the peg for another crappy column was as sure as the sunrise.

Difficulty: 2/10. Sammy conducts an "informal survey" of mayors from around the county. Sample size: two. Both say the storm caught their service departments off guard, and that regional cooperation could have helped. Conclusion: 100 percent of mayors surveyed support regionalism. Margin of error: about 98 percent, a two-percent improvement over Sammy's average.

Sam Gets Poetic: "After all, the springtime snow didn't stop at any one city's border. It buried us all." Translation: I can't put the top down on my Mustang, and the delivery guy from Papa John's says he can't get out of his driveway. This snow is unseasonably bogus!"

The Master Has Spoken: "That final blast (hopefully) of winter serves as an ominous reminder that Greater Cleveland must unite against shared challenges." Translation: But if Old Man Winter should come howling again, look for my next column: "Snow: It couldn't stop (Insert name of troubled hoodlum turned youth mentor here) from fulfilling his dream."

What Sam Reveals About Sam: He spends a lot of time staring out the window, waiting for a higher power to write his column for him. Once in a while, it actually works.

CliffsNotes Version: Sam: "Snow, snow, snow. Think, Cheryl, think! How can I use the snow in my column for tomorrow?"

Cheryl: "Gee, I don't know, Sam. I mean, it's just snow. Why don't you look in the newspaper for some ideas?"

Sam: "Goddamnit, Cheryl! I refuse to read this piece of garbage. I mean, look at this clown they put on the front page."

Cheryl: "Sam, that's you."

Sam: "Oh. So how about that snow? Wake me up when you've got it. Snoooorrreeeeee."

We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To

Headline: Tough talk that's worth repeating

Date: April 3, 2007

Topic: Last Thursday PD reporter Joe Guillen covered a speech by Forest City honcho Sam Miller, during which the rich old codger touted "regionalism" as the only way to save Northeast Ohio. Miller called us all "confused" and "apathetic" for paralyzing the region by not working together. Never mind that Miller, a man who's pillaged the city for the last 50 years, is one of the main reasons suburbs will never share with the city. (Think of the career bank robber complaining about National City's security.) But he does by a lot of full-page PD ads to loudly demonstrate his beneficence! And this is one of those big picture ideas that Sam can yammer on about for an entire column without presenting an original thought!

Originality: 0/10. Just what the fans were asking for: Another generic column on regionalism, with the same arguments you heard two years ago, repackaged for your reading pleasure!

Difficulty: 0/10. Sam does a great job cribbing the story (Guillen's name is never mentioned). As you know, the best cut-rate columnists are measured by their ability to blather -- without clarifying the subject or offering any new ideas — and here Sam proves he has no earthly peer.

Sam Gets Poetic: "Confusion comes easily when an unworkable definition of regionalism is the coin of the realm. The common distortion seems to be that regionalism must be a form of uni-government, the merging of city halls from Sandusky to Akron into a single behemoth." This from the guy who probably caused half the "distortion" after proposing last year that Cleveland merge with East Cleveland.

The Master Has Spoken: "Whenever I've written about this topic, the angry calls and letters flood in from people who live both inside and outside Cleveland. They howl in protest that I dared to put the r-word in a family newspaper." Translation: Christ, please send me lots of angry letters so I can use 'em to fill my next column. This one took a lot out of me. I need a rest.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: He's on the front lines of contemporary public policy -- and did he mention he could really use your angry letters?

CliffsNotes Version: Cheryl, check the list. Who hasn't paid yet? Baird — check. Vinella — last week. Dissell — damn. And then some. Guillen! Joey G, whattya got for me? Nothin', huh? How 'bout if I just re-arrange some of the stuff on your desk? Still nothin'? Damn, it's a shame that cup of coffee has to spill down the back of your monitor! You got one last chance, punk, before this whole muthafuckin' shelf comes down! Oh, lookee what we got here — a speech by Sam Miller! And the old dog's talkin' that dirty r-word! That'll get the phones smokin'! See you next month, bitch!

We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To...

Headline: A wake-up shout for a troubled city

Date: March 29, 2007

Topic: As reported two days earlier by City Hall reporter Susan Vinella, Sam writes that black members of Cleveland's City Council are tired of being blamed for everything. He then rattles off all of Cleveland's problems, because nothing fills up 500 words faster.

Originality: 2/10. Shockingly, this was entirely new ground for Sam. A review of previous Fulwood Watch entries reveals that he's never before ripped off Susan Vinella. He's branching out, people!

Difficulty: 5/10. Sam painfully recreates Councilwoman Sabra Scott Pierce's outburst at Monday's meeting, giving the distinct impression that he had left his house to attend the meeting. Fulwood Watch was about to draft a press release to announce this groundbreaking discovery — "Local metro columnist leaves house for something other than Stuffed Crust Pizza�" — but then a real reporter pointed out that the meetings are televised. Still, when measured in Standard Fulwood Energy Units, changing the channel from How I Met Your Mother is akin to a regular reporter infiltrating a Baghdad prison. Five points to Sammy!

Sam Gets Poetic: "The normally reserved Cleveland city councilwoman suddenly pushed back from the table and stood up to maker herself larger. Her eyes blazed. Her fingers waggled in the air. Her voice trembled with rage. ... Suddenly, that handsome blond fellow who used to play Doogie Howser entered the bar, hit on a pretty white woman, and had a drink thrown in his face. The studio audience roared. Wait? Did I change it back to How I Met Your Mother again? Damn it!"

The Master Has Spoken: "You can hear it, too, if you care enough to listen to what so many of those living in Cleveland's black communities are saying." Really. You can. Just go to Tower City or something. Sam, for one, will be in Shaker Heights where it's safe.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: Somebody taught him how to dial out.

CliffsNotes Version: Hmm. Interesting. Says here that the black folks on the city council are all upset about something. Too bad this newspaper doesn't have a black columnist to rip off this girl's reporting and eek out a shitty column interpreting these angry black people for all the ignorant honkies out there. Wonder why that Phil Morris isn't on this one?

Wait a second! Aren't I ... [Running to mirror] ... I am! I'm black! And aren't I ... [Googling himself] ... I am! I'm a columnist! A black columnist!

But wait. I can't just copy and paste this woman's story into a column. Last time I did that the bosses liked it so much they tried to give me a raise. I don't need that kind of pressure.

What if I just ... [Googling "everything that sucks about Cleveland"] ... yes! That's it! I can just paste everything that's wrong with Cleveland into a column, sprinkle in some quotes from the councilwoman, add a dash of excessive adjectives, and Voila! A ready-made column!

No wonder that Morris kid is still writing for Opinion. He's got no hustle, I swear.

We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To

Headline: Old TV triumphs in Madness month

Date: March 20, 2007

Topic: After Sam's last column, in which he took a county judge to task for acquitting a racist cop, PD editors were concerned. They feared Sam was dangerously close to becoming relevant. That's Connie Schultz's job. So Sam got a week off to recharge his ego, and the result is spectacular: The story of how a nice old repairman named Joe Sopko fixed Sam's three-year-old TV so he could watch basketball.

Originality: 0/10. If only Sopko could have fixed Sam's writing, too.

Difficulty: 1/10. This, Cleveland, is the story Best Buy doesn't want you to read. Thank God Sam had the courage to break it, using only his narcissism and the Yellow Pages.

Sam Gets Poetic: "It's so ancient, a large piece of furniture must support its heavy tube. Oh, yes, that's a tube jutting out back like the Hottentot Venus' callipygian booty." Sam compares his TV to a 19th-century European circus attraction, something maybe four people at Oberlin will understand — and they'll think it's, like, totally exploitive and sexist. (You can learn about the Venus — and about how smart Sam really is — here.)

The Master Has Spoken: "For the rest of March, I'll be on the edge of my couch and cheering my old television on as the Madness runs its course." Expect Sam next to tackle a multi-part series on comfortable reclining positions, helped along by long passages describing the contents of his refrigerator.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: That although occasionally he needs some prodding, Sam will always deliver on the mantra PD editors had stenciled on his bedroom stucco: ALL PLAY AND NO WORK KEEPS SAM A VERY DULL BOY.

CliffsNotes Version: Bust out your bracket, Cheryl — it's time for Sammy to teach you the ultimate lesson in prognosticationalizing pain! Get me a Yoo-Hoo first, will ya? Aw, turds — my TV doesn't work! Gotta get 'er fixed. Man, this thing is heavy. Look at it. It's got a big butt! Okay, Cheryl, you carry the TV while I drive to the repair shop! I'll keep it in second gear, so you don't fall too far behind. What, Joe? You want fifty bucks? What about an autograph? Okay, okay... lemme see what's in my wallet: business card, notes cribbed from Mark Naymik, notes cribbed from Mike Tobin, Pulitzer speech... aw, forget it! Let's play one-on-one for your lousy scratch! Double-or-nothing! Got my Chuck Taylors right here! Whattya say? Sammy Three in da howwwwwzzzzzzzzz!!!

We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To

Headline: Justice denied interracial couple

Date: March 8, 2007

Topic: Sammy writes about the acquittal of Cleveland cop William Forrest — a.k.a. Notorious White Guy -- who was charged with inciting a 2005 fight with Aric Jackson — Unnotorious Black Computer Geek — at the Castlebar, a West Park cop joint ["Love and Hate," February 1, 2006]. It seems Forrest, fellow cop Pete Turner, and the bar's owner weren't happy that Jackson showed up with his white girlfriend and her cousin. (In case you're scoring at home, that's 1 black guy and 2 white chicks, a double felony.) Forrest and Turner proceeded to start a fight. Though badly outnumbered, Jackson proceeded to kick their ass. The judges gave Jackson a 10. The cops were sent to remedial Golden Gloves classes. They can know hold their own against 5th graders from Chardon.

Originality: 0/10. Having fey little Sammy write about bar fights is like hiring the Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency to coach the Browns' defense. You know this is gonna go bad.

Difficulty: 5/10. Sam had to kick it into overdrive to come off as a Realistic Gritty Urban Columnist. Behold this bad boy: "If courtroom justice had been served, Forrest would be wearing an orange jumpsuit and riding the short bus to the hoosegow." Now that's totally "street!"

Sam Gets Poetic: "So while I didn't like the verdict, I'll cut Corrigan a slim sliver of slack because hope remains that Forrest will be punished." Ladies and gentlemen, we haven't seen that kind of alliteration since the storied Lincoln Elementary writing contest of '82.

The Master Has Spoken: "In this case, the brawlers were cops spoiling to fight a black man cheeky enough to escort a white woman into a well-known police hangout." C'mon, Sam, the guy just kicked the shit outta two cops, and all you're gonna give him is "cheeky"? Is that even a compliment? Give the man his props!

What Sam Reveals About Sam: "I expected a different outcome and the obvious facts in this case justified it:" Apparently Sam is the last guy in town to believe the Cuyahoga County court system actually renders something akin to justice. Here's a tip: The judge's name was Corrigan. Does this mean: A) We elected him because we thought he was the next Thurgood Marshall or B) We'd even elect a dead guy named Corrigan, knowing the dead guy would do twice the work.

We Read Sam So You Don't Have To

Headline: Newfound brother asks, "Who am I?"

Date: March 6, 2007

Topic: Sam marvels at the cunning and ingenious research techniques of Anita Poindexter, who was trying to track down her biological brother. The techniques, all foreign to Sam, include searching the Internet, using the telephone, and knocking on doors.

Originality: 0/10. The Metro Columnist Discovers The Magic of the Internet: Here's a topic that was fresh in 1996, stale in 2002, moldy in 2004. In 2007, it's just making people sick.

Difficulty: 2/10. Looks like Sam had to pick up the phone for this one. Our research shows he hasn't done this since he ordered Chinese food back in December. Memo to HR: be on the look out for that overtime request.

Sam Gets Poetic: "She zapped a blizzard of e-mails, dialed blind phone calls and knocked on doors to every likely Williams household she found on the Internet or in the phone book." This girl's got hustle! I wonder if the bosses would let me have two interns?

The Master Has Spoken: After Anita heard from her brother, "She screamed and cried and thanked God for his call," sort of like how way Sam screamed and cried when Anita hand-delivered him a two-part column.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: We always thought Sam would be utterly useless if readers and colleagues didn't spoon-feed him material. Turns out, we were wrong. He's useless either way: "Anita even wrote me. I intended to tell her I couldn't help," he writes, because how would a newspaperman know how to do research? He goes on: "But I forgot to make the call and tossed her handwritten letter in the trash."

CliffsNotes Version: I can't believe I threw that note out! That was a tailor made column. Hell, she practically wrote it for me. Hey, maybe ...
[Sam picks up phone, dials intern Cheryl]: Hey Cheryl, you know that dumpster out back? You think you could rummage through that for a note I threw out? It's really, really important. And while you're in there, see if there's any Domino's coupons. Sammy F is starving. [Hangs up]
[Sam, clutching the crumpled note]: Yes! This is tailor made. Just look at all this research she did. Phone calls. Internet. This woman should be a reporter. Anyway, column: blah, blah, blah, heartwarming tale, perseverance, sibling bond, blah, blah, blah. File to copy.
Now where the hell are those Dominos coupons? Do I have to do everything around here?

We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To...

This week's episode: Sam learns that some humans share a bond that's deeper than any he's ever known. Incredibly, people actually spend time together, he finds, because they like each other.

Headline: Police heap praise on a good friend

Date: February 20, 2007

Topic: In the wake of his triumphant series exonerating Frank Jackson from any part in the city's larcenous Kinsman land deal — well, at least as far as he and an 84-year-old with a bad ticker are concerned — you'd think Sam would be exhausted. But corruption doesn't take a day off, and so neither can he. Sam thunders right into the next mystery that's been baffling his readers: Why some Bratenahl police officers are such good friends with the third-shift clerk at a nearby gas station.

Originality: 7/10. Sad, but this might actually be the most exciting story ever to come out of the Bratenahl Police Department in Bratenahl, which has stayed busy for years by lobbying for new laws covering crimes against fashion.

Difficulty: 3/10. The clerk, Shelly Haralson, is a reluctant source. She dodges Sam. But by shaking down "friends," "admirers," and the plaque Shelly gave the Bratenahl cops, Sam skillfully reconstructs this epic of unbreakable friendship.

Sam Gets Poetic: "The job was risky, given the sort of people who might stumble through in the dark hours of the day. But Shelly endured the dangers of the night to pay her bills and provide for her daughter, Emily." A tenner says Sam cribbed that first sentence from himself. Editors confirm it's the line he feeds them when they complain how rarely he comes to work.

The Master Has Spoken: "They've volunteered so much glowing praise about Shelly that I'm convinced she's a fine person. Others should know her inspiring story. I won't keep it a secret any longer." Here Sam offers a glimpse of the incredible moral strain he overcame to script this, his first unauthorized biography.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: That he's pushing editors for space on Sundays. It's getting harder and harder to limit this kind of brilliance to the workweek. Take this gas-station friendship racket, for instance -- so much was left untold. With a little more time, Sam easily could have exposed how hard Shelly works to keep the coffee fresh.

CliffsNotes Version: What? I should talk to your friend Shelly? She's down with five-o? Free coffee... broke some rules... yeah, gotta blow the lid off this mother! Works late, too, huh? How late — past eight-thirty? Aw, man, third shift? Jesus, you want me to work after 11 just to talk to her? Are you outta your mind? Let's just skip the interview. She's only the central character. Just email me what you wanna say and I'll get one of the interns to write it.

We Read America's Worst Columnist, Sam Fulwood III, So You Don't Have To...

This week's episode: Sam refuses to believe that one of his role models isn't such a role model after all.

Headline: Hizzoner wouldn't lie, would he?

Date: February 13, 2007

Topic: Sammy finds a creative new angle on the shady Kinbess-CMHA deal, in which then-Councilman Frank Jackson helped a developer secure public money for an industrial park, then switched course and allowed it to be bought by the county for a wildly inflated price — a deal Jackson now claims he simply forgot about. Sure it looks bad, says Sammy, but he has inside sources who tell a different story. The mop boy and the security guard at City Hall say Jackson's a straight up dude. Take that, Sandra Livingston!

Originality: 4/10. Give Sammy credit for standing up for the values he believes in: incompetency, phoning it in, and that you're innocent until proven a complete moron.

Difficulty: 6/10. Standing beside a friend in times of trouble isn't always easy. Especially if that friend happens to be the mayor, he happens to be involved in major corruption scandal, and you happen to be the metro columnist for the local newspaper.

Sam Gets Poetic: "If it were anyone other than Mayor Frank Jackson involved in this CMHA scandal, I'd swear he was lying." Translation: One time Jackson put his hand on my shoulder and called me "man." Something happened at that moment that I can't describe. Call it reporter's intuition.

The Master Has Spoken: "But it's good ol' Frank. And everyone respects the mayor as an honest dude." Translation: I went through my entire rolodex on this one, which consists of, let me see, Dominoes, the guy in the cube down the hall who fixes my computer, and . . . oh, here he is, Frank Jackson.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: Sam's willing to trust his gut, even if it brings him into disagreement with his own paper. Call it courage, call it reckless, call it not reading his own paper.

CliffsNotes Version: You know, Cheryl, I don't take a stand on many issues. But I'm throwing down the white glove today. A man has been defamed — and he's black, goddamnit. Wait, he is black, isn't he, Cheryl? Are we at least 80 percent sure on that? OK, hand me the phone. I'm calling . . . Dominoes. You got five bucks?

Headline: Actor proved equality is possible

Date: February 6, 2007

Topic: Long before Sam learned to crib from his peers, he was memorizing television dialogue. This incredible power of imitation wowed teachers, who somehow never suspected he was turning in other students' homework. Today, Sam just can't squeeze a fifth straight column from Rachel Dissell's feature on juvenile justice, but it's okay — his nose for scandal senses a major scoop at the Cleveland Play House. While digging hard through the cast notes of a new play, he discovers the daughter of his favorite childhood TV actor, Greg Morris of Mission: Impossible. Bingo! He asks her to dinner, hoping that in between courses she'll dictate a column on her dad's pioneering impact. Sadly, she was only 6 when the show debuted. That Sam to spend most of the column covering his favorite subject: Sam. It's all conveniently wrapped around lecture No. 982,928 on the paucity of black actors on TV in the 1960s. Though he's only 40 years late getting to the subject, editors are pleased that he at least spelled everything properly.

Originality: 2/10. After the Dissell debacle, Sam's been barred from contact with the PD's Metro staff, but his sticky fingers still manage to sneak a gem from the fax machine by the arts desk. Sorry, Mark Dawidziak.

Difficulty: 2/10. Iona Morris called her father "Dad?" She loved him even before he was a big TV star? Stop the presses!

Sam Gets Poetic: "Barney — played to perfection by Cleveland native Greg Morris — was different. His face was the color of dark chocolate, just like mine. Maybe the import of that is hard to imagine today. But when I was a child, it was radical." Historians contend this was the precise moment Sam discovered blackness.

The Master Has Spoken: "Finding Barney, a proud black man who wasn't killed off before the second act, was one of those Aha! moments in my childhood development." Forget Sidney Poitier. For a chance to use his expense account, Sam'll take the gadgets geek from Mission: Impossible.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: When you've echoed relevance for two weeks, it's okay to take a day off.

CliffNotes Version: Overhaul the system... who cares about teens... don't fault the parents... inaction equals nightmare ... Think, damnit! Can't she argue anything else for me? ... Guess I'm in my own, at least until I swing by the arts desk. (Tiptoes. Sound of paper rustling.) "Cuttin' Up" at the Play House! That might work. Let's go through Dawidziak's mail for the promos! Maybe the cast notes? No....no...no. Iona Morris. That sounds familiar. Hey, wait a sec... it says here her dad was Greg Morris! Hey, man, that's Barney from Mission Impossible! Waaaaaazzzz uuuup, girl? Let's gruuuuuuubbbb!

We Read Fulwood So You Don't Have To...

Headline: Who really cares about black teens?

Date: January 25, 2007

Topic: Someone at The Plain Dealer did some actual work this week, and it wasn't Sam. Luckily for Fulwood, he's shameless when it comes to ripping off his colleagues. This time, it's Rachell Dissell's Sunday stories about juvenile justice.

Originality: -17/10 Sam has never been one to shy away from stealing ideas from his colleagues, but this is a new low. After stealing Dissell's reporting for his Tuesday column, Fulwood returns to the scene of the crime to scavenge what's left for his Thursday column.

Difficulty: -34/10 This column was about as difficult as compiling the blooper reel for a DVD extra: just gather up the shit that wasn't good enough the first time around and shovel it at the audience.

Sam Gets Poetic: "And, once children are plugged into the system, all hope for recovery and rehabilitation seems to fall away, as my colleague Rachel Dissell's stories pointed out Sunday." And with this sentence, Sam has written the "Leaves of Grass" of newspaper plagiarism.

The Master Has Spoken: "Yeah, I'm all for that. But I've read such calls for action before, and nobody seems to care." As a matter of fact, I read such calls two days ago in this very space, when I made this exact same argument in slightly different words. And before that, I seem to recall seeing it in the Plain Dealer on Sunday, written by some lady ... what was her name again?

What Sam Reveals About Sam: He suspects that too few people value the lives and futures of black kids. Or at least that was the impression he got from Rachell's story the other day.

CliffsNotes Version: Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Cheryl the intern just got promoted! What the hell am I gonna do now? It was all I could do on Tuesday to eke out another column about racial unfairness in juvenile justice. Let's see, now where'd I get that scoop? Think, Fulwood, think! OK, retrace your steps ... you got up on Sunday, ate a few Krispy Kremes, looked over The Plain Dealer, started reading that story by Rachell Dissell about racial unfairness in juvenile justice ... wait, that's it! OK, now all I have to do is see what Rachell wrote yesterday ... Drat! Foiled! She didn't write yesterday! Now what am I gonna do? Well, I guess could always steal from the same article again. Hell, nobody's gonna notice ...

We Read Sam Fulwood III So You Don't Have To...

Headline: Juvenile justice needs an overhaul

Date: January 23, 2007

Topic: Echoing the paper's lead Sunday story, Sam writes that Ohio's juvenile justice system needs an overhaul. He's not sure how to do that, but he thinks it should involve marching on the state capitol with torches, because how cool would that be?

Originality: 1/10. A point to Sam for not copying and pasting the contents of his email inbox into a column. He's done it so often lately, we actually were longing for that other Sammy standard: recycling one of his colleague's stories as a column. Now that we've read it, we're longing to get hit by a city bus.

Difficulty: 2/10. No, retreadding your colleague's work ain't like building a deck or nothing. But give Sam credit: This is the Sunday paper he's cribbing from, and his assistant has Sundays off. Plus, have you lifted the Sunday paper? It's pretty heavy.

Sam Gets Poetic: "I can't understand why folks aren't marching on the state Capitol with pitchforks and torches." Well Sam, you see ... it's just that ... in 2007 ... umm ... Oh, fuck it. This is brilliant. Onward, to Columbus!

The Master Has Spoken: The "do-nothing citizens of Ohio have the power to demand that officials make the needed changes. If we fail, then we are responsible for the self-destructive cycle that traps our children." In summary, get on that people! And let Sam know how it turns out, preferably in an email of about 500 words with a few quotes from public officials. Add a catchy headline and Sam will send you an autographed business card.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: "I've sat in on the proceedings at the Juvenile Court on East 22nd Street. I've walked through Public Square and overheard the endless stream of profane chatter spilling out of the mouths of babies." And I've thought to myself, Thank God I live in Shaker! This is scary!

CliffsNotes Version: Ahh, nuts. Is it Sunday already? Did I sleep through Saturday again? Must have. And now there's only one day to write a "column" for those "bosses" at the "paper." This is really getting old.

Maybe I should get my real estate license. The guys on the For Sale signs always look so cheerful. They must not have to get up in the morning. Is there some kind of test for that? I'll have to have Cheryl look that up.

Anyway, a column. Hmm. Do I still subscribe to that newspaper? [Looking hopefully out the window]. Guess I do. If I could only train you to bring that in for me, little Sammy! That would make you a much more useful pup! Yes it would!

Hmm, what's this? Some kind of big story about kids and jails or something? Reminds me of the time I got lost downtown and all those crazy youngens started swearing at me. I could write about that. That was frightening!

I wonder if realtors ever have to go downtown?

Headline: Dr. King confronts the cynicism of '07

Date: January 16, 2007

Topic: Martin Luther King Day means a day off for many Americans, and that rankles Sam. He's rankled that we spend the day honoring the fallen civil-rights leader and rankled that it happens just once a year. He's extra rankled that racial inequality still persists. But mostly he's rankled 'cause he still had to crank out a column. So what better way to honor Marty Jr. than to let the ol' guy do the work. Sam cribs hefty portions of a King speech, then rips us all for ignoring its wisdom, especially the parts that were only relevant 40 years ago.

Originality: 0/10. Paragraphs by Dr. King: 10. Paragraphs by Sam: 9. The King Estate deserves a kickback.

Difficulty: 2/10. The judges award a point for not copy-pasting King's entire speech, another for Sammy's deft use of italics.

Sam Gets Poetic: "Dr. King wasn't a one-day wonder. His life and message resonate from an Atlanta crypt, even at this late, dark hour of our nation's history." (This was also Sammy's defense for taking Tuesday off too.)

The Master Has Spoken: "Hold on! Put down the telephone! Hear me out before you call to scream about how a black man -- a self-sacrificing legacy -- dares utter such heresy." Tune in Thursday, when Sam begins an eye-gouging series on his indestructible blackness.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: That he'll shank anybody's legacy for the chance to talk down some more.

CliffNotes Version: Where is everybody? God Sam it, we've got a column to wing today! Wait a sec -- yeah, today's Martin Luther King Day! No wonder there aren't any voicemails! No prob, then -- if they won't write it, ol' MLK will! Ha- ha! Thanks, dawg! Copy. Paste. Take that, ranklers! Damn, that paragraph is fresh. Like a marble bust I sculpturized myself. Speaking of bust: man, that muffin was rich. Better hurry this up. Copy. Paste. Take that, too, ranklers! Copy. Paste. And that! Send! Nap time!

FULWOOD WATCH: We Read Sam So You Don't Have To

Headline: Charley's waitress forced to start anew

Date: January 11, 2007

Topic: After watching several dozen of his newspaper colleagues accept early retirement checks and pack up their desks, Sam discovers that some people don't have cushy column writing jobs and must work for a living. At least one of those people is a waitress named Linda Paparosa. This is her story.

Originality: 2/10. Although Sam is just catching wind of it, people have been losing jobs since the pyramids were completed and the pharaoh announced a series of layoffs to please Wall Street.

Difficulty: 9/10. Linda shows a lot of hustle on this one. After losing her job, she quickly rebounds and finds another gig, all while weighed down by a 180-pound Metro columnist riding on her back.

Sam Gets Poetic: "Everything — right down to the shiny black shoes, so unlike the comfy Reebok sneakers she wore at Charley's Crab — was so new and different." She's being forced to wear dress shoes? Jesus H. Christ! Someone call Interpol!

The Master Has Spoken: "Bravo, Linda, that's the attitude. Show us how to face our own fears." Following Linda's example, Sam is even considering logging a few hours at the office.

What Sam Reveals About Sam: On some subliminal level, Sam is suffering survivor's guilt. He's seen many good reporters put out of their jobs and he's wondering how in the hell he continues to receive a paycheck considering that he hasn't put in a day's work since 2004.

CliffsNotes Version: Damn, another sports guy is packing up his desk and taking the long walk to the elevator? This layoff shit is getting serious! And I'm coming back from a two week vacation and nobody seemed to notice I was gone. I better earn my keep, at least until I get the vacation home in North Carolina paid off. Maybe I could go out among the people, do a little of that "reporting" that Cheryl's always yapping about. Come to think of it, my favorite waitress at Charley's Crab was saying something about losing her job. What was it again? Blah blah blah, nowhere to go, no savings, yadda yadda yadda ... All I remember was ordering the crab bisque, which I found a little tepid ...