9:40 a.m. The phone rings. Not being an early riser, I’m lying in bed listening to CBC Radio. I pick up and say, “Hello.” Naturally, it’s Samuel L. Jackson. He’s calling to tell me I might remember him from a few films, but that he really, really wants me to go see his new movie (which might be the “best movie ever made! It’s that good,” he growls). That movie? Snakes on a Plane, of course. But wait, it gets weirder. Much weirder. Sam implores me to stop doing certain things, like listening to my crazy music and playing with that ratty beard(!), call up my girlfriend (he calls her Michael, but he’s close), hop on my greasy bike (hey, it’s not greasy!) and go see his movie. “Do as I say, and you live,” he warns. I can’t get a word in edgewise.