Some words for the fallen

It’s been a rough stretch for the wrestling industry this summer.  Within the last 60 days, two iconic names of the business have passed away, in Dusty Rhodes and now Rowdy Roddy Piper.  Given the fact that the life expectancy for males in the United States is at roughly 80 years old now, it is accurate to say that at 69 and 61 years old respectively, both Dusty and Piper left the world too soon, which is pretty much the epitomal statement made whenever any wrestler passes these days.  The lifestyle of the business, especially back when those guys were touring towns, was quite self-destructive, and it would be a bigger surprise if the causes of their deaths weren’t aided in some way or fashion by drugs or substance abuse.

I didn’t write anything publicly when Dusty Rhodes died, but now that Piper has so quickly followed, I think it’s a decent time to put some words down, because ultimately, I felt the same way about both guys, and it’s quite easier to turn this into something of a post that I’m hoping has some substance to it.

The truth is, I was never really a fan of either Dusty Rhodes or Roddy Piper.  This doesn’t mean that I don’t care about their deaths, far from it; they’re both unfortunate and absolutely horrible for the families that they left behind, but at the same time, I don’t see any reason to pretend like I was ever a big fan of either wrestler when they were still active.  Nor did I see any point of waxing poetic about great they were in the business, because I frankly don’t agree to such as fervently as many other wrestling fans do.

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The worst kind of postponing

Long story short: Georgia woman on death row, scheduled to be executed on February 25, 2015 lives to see another few days on account of inclement weather postponing the execution.

This is of course, the woman I brogged about almost two weeks ago, whose requested last meal consisted of some Burger King Whoppers and a whole shitload of buttermilk and buttermilk products, and I accused of basically trying to turn herself into a Left 4 Dead boomer.  So that her goal was to get fat, bloated, and full of gross disgusting waste for her to expel upon expiration, in an attempt to get the final laugh against the legal system that saw fit to put her to death for murdering her husband nearly 20 years ago.

Anyway, I can’t help but feel that this had to have been a devastating blow to the boomer-to-be here.  Sure, there’s the perspective of that she’s going to get a few extra days before the re-scheduled execution, but to me, that’s a few extra days to wallow in misery and postponed dread of maybe possibly having accepted death, only for it to be drug out for another four days.  After all, the state did deny her final bid for clemency, I can’t imagine that a few extra days is going to make anyone change their minds.

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When creative parodying strikes

I once saw a meme image that stated “your shirt says UFC but your body says KFC.”  Bahahahaha.

I laughed about it heartily.

There’s a guy at my gym that is an obvious resolutioner, and I’m pretty perceptive and good at recognizing people at places that I go regularly.  To this resolutioner’s credit, he has been coming at least once a week for the last three now, but that is still no indication that he might vanish come February, but the thing is, that there are two things that I noticed about this guy:

  1. 100% of his “working out” is spent in cable crossovers.  Whether anything that can be done with cables, he’s doing with cables.  Sometimes he’ll jump up and grab the cross beam and try to do some pull ups, but literally 100% of his time in the gym is spent amidst the cables.  Naturally, no leg workouts occur here, either.
  2. He always wears this pair of TAPOUT shorts.  Sometimes in conjunction with a TAPOUT shirt.

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The inadvertent diet

By now, anyone reading this is pretty well aware that I go to the gym on a regular basis.  But obviously, the gym alone is never enough when it comes to physical improvement, otherwise I would probably have a physique that was resembling more to Ricky Martin instead of Ricky Gervais.  This is the case because in spite of how much I work out, I’m fairly lax when it comes to eating, because food is awesome and I love food.  I’m not saying I will dine at solely all-you-can-eat buffets (anymore), but I have a fond affinity for burritos, barbecue and beer, and I have no intention of giving them up anytime soon.

I exercise so that I can eat.

However, I’m not going to say that I couldn’t stand to improve physically, because:

  • I am a single guy, and single guys that are in better shape tend to have more success in romantic pursuits than guys that are fat miserable slobs
  • Physical improvement can only lead to a higher quality standard of living
  • Yes, I prioritized the pursuit of women over improved physical well-being, because that’s kind of where I’m at with my life, currently

That being said, because I’m also a supportive friend and roommate, I decided to embark on a mission to try and eat better with Jen.

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A different kind of dick move

I was at breakfast, and while waiting to pay my bill, I noticed a family walk in the door; it looked pretty clear that it was a couple coming in to have breakfast with their dad.  Watching them walk in, dad looked like your typical crotchety old white male, with a scowl on his face, and generally looking miserable with his life.  As for the couple, the wife appeared to be late-thirties, possibly early-forties, but still attractive, but as far as the husband was concerned, I couldn’t look beyond the massive beer belly that was protruding bulbously from his torso.

The next thought that ran through my head was simply, “how much does it suck to be her, that her husband turned into such a fat guy?

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At least Paula Deen is honest

In short:

According to a transcript of the deposition, filed Monday in U.S. District Court, an attorney for Jackson asked Deen if she has ever used the N-word.

“Yes, of course,” Deen replied…

Personally, I think everyone’s a racist in some way, shape or form. To me, being racist doesn’t mean that you have to go burn crosses in the yards of black people, vandalize mosques or break into Korean-run dry cleaners and liquor stores. I think there are many, many more forms of less abrasive and subtle racism that exists out there, but is still racism nonetheless.

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This really only makes sense in Samoa

The story: Samoa Air plans to institute a pricing model based on the weight of the passengers plus their luggage.

Has anyone ever missed a flight due to weight restrictions? I have. Long story short, I was trying to get on a flight to Mississippi, and according to all information, there were several open seats available. Much to my horror, the door closed right in front of me, and very confused, I asked why no more passengers were being allowed onto the aircraft? Because the aircraft had reached its weight capacity.

Mind you, there were five seats available at this point, which means that the flight reached its weight limit well before reaching its occupancy limit. The passengers already aboard had successfully compensated for the weight of five entire human beings.

Needless to say, I was incensed. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for those who had actually paid a full fare to get on that flight and were denied.

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