Wayne Gretzky. Tom Brady. Michael Jordan. Babe Ruth. Mohammed Ali. Henry Kissenger.
The Greatest of All Time.
Yesterday marked the end of Henry Kissinger’s incredible run on the Dead Pool. Watching who will outlive the other…Betty White Vs. the former Secretary of State…was akin to watching Magic Johnson Vs. Larry Bird. It was a magical time that likely won’t be rivaled again until Clint Eastwood Vs. William Shatner.
But we shouldn’t overlook Kissinger’s accomplishments in international relations. He exemplified the best in the worst of American foreign policy. His role particularly in the affairs of Southeast Asia was a milestone in hypocrisy, negligence, and criminality.
At the spry age of 83, Robert “Bobby” Montgomery Knight has kicked the bucket. The world of college basketball will never be the same.
Now I’m not saying that Bobby Knight was a good man. Or a nice man. Or a pleasant man. Or an intelligent man. Hell, I don’t even know if his players liked playing for him. Just ask Neil Reed what he thought (RIP).
What I am saying is that Bobby Knight was probably the last certifiably insane person to ever coach a college basketball team. There will be no more like him (nor should there be). He is also thus far the only inductee into the IRE Real-Ass Dude Hall of Fame. Regardless of what you think of the man, we should at least respect that.
Bobby Knight accomplished more things in his life than most of us will. My only regret is that his announcing career didn’t last longer. I can’t imagine why it ended so quickly:
Rest in peace Ryan Mallet. I hope that this is a reminder to kids that nothing good happens in Destin, Florida. But I’d like to take this opportunity to do what I do best: shit on Razorback fans.
I’m sure there will be a bevy of obituaries in the coming days naming Mallet as one of the greatest Razorbacks to play for the program. And I agree with that statement. But none of y’all can fool me. I would know. I was there during the thick of things. I was a student at the University of Arkansas while he was the starting quarterback, plus we shared the same major. It’s odd that we never crossed paths considering I had classes with plenty of football players, but I know what all ya’ll said about him. And you know what? You guys didn’t deserve Ryan Mallet.
And I’m proud to say I was his biggest fan. It was just too bad his receivers couldn’t hold on to his passes. So shame on you Razorback fans and the entire state of Arkansas. I hope your losing ways continue forever and ever.
RIP
Now thanks to Bart Ehrman and James Tabor, the Gospel of Mark is HOT right now. I mean SIZZLING. I guess the Bible as a whole is assumed to be a part of the great literature canon, but it’s refreshing to see Mark being independently recognized for the genius that it is, despite its flaws.
There’s no shortage of lectures regarding the text on YouTube, especially from Tabor and Ehrman. There’s also a large selection of scholarly articles and books on the subject. But what I’d like to see is a secular commentary on Mark.
I’m sure one exists, but it probably costs $900,000,000 and you have to purchase it from some secondhand dealer in Bosnia. One needs to be written for the common man, and I believe I’m halfway up for the task. I’m not going to do it because there’s obvious problems with me writing it: 1) I’m not a scholar 2) I don’t want to cite my work 3) I hardly know Koine Greek 4) Do I have to get permission to use a certain translation? If so, fuck that. And 5) Who would want to read something from a guy who’s essentially a troll with a blog (and ONE published book, I might add)?
So someone else, PLEASE write this commentary for me.
The three artists that have influenced me the most are comedian Nick Mullen and authors Charles Bukowski and Cormac McCarthy.
McCarthy is an outlier compared to those other two. Other than our penchant for nihilism, we really don’t have any overlapping sensibilities. So I don’t try to emulate him. No one can.
But what inspired me about his writing is the way how he elevated the medium. McCarthy didn’t give a shit about correct grammar or punctuation. Some of his novels have entire conversations in Spanish and he doesn’t care to translate them into English or explain what they were about. He sometimes went into minute details over mundane actions that had no real consequence to the story. Nevertheless, you were completely engaged in this dark world of McCarthy’s creation.
While the obituaries since his death have cited No Country For Old Men and The Road as his most famous works, in my opinion (and really, the opinion of those in the know) his finest novel is Blood Meridian. I’ll go a step further and say that it might be the greatest American novel ever written. McCarthy’s vision of the Old West was dark and violent because the spilling of blood was the only language that land understood. Yet more importantly, never had violence been portrayed more poetically.
It’s unfortunate that it takes death for us to realize this, but hopefully now Cormac McCarthy will be recognized as one of the greatest writers of all time.
As a devout Mennonite, I believe that Pat Robertson will spend eternity in hell. But you gotta admit, as a religious charlatan, he’s one of the GOATs.
Of course, he was no Jim Jones…or even David Koresh…but with all the money he scammed out of the pockets of old people: that’s some real ass shit. And he lived to be 93. So don’t ever let anyone tell you that surviving on pure hatred will lead to an early grave.
So so long to the bigoted and homophobic Pat Robertson. I can’t wait for his Netflix documentary 🙏🙏🙏
What a fuckin legend. Of course she sang what is quietly one of the best James Bond songs in Goldeneye, but in my view, Tina Turner’s finest hour was the music video to the 1984 banger from the epic Private Dancer album: “Better Be Good to Me.”
The song itself is flawless, but not enough credit goes to the music video. You see, back in 1984, artists sort of just did whatever in front of the camera. No one gave a shit. Another good example of this is the infamous music video to Van Halen’s Jump released the same year. For whatever reasons, performers were just too damn distracted to put any effort into their videos.
What I love about Better Be Good to Me though is that the Fixx’s Cy Curnin doesn’t hide the fact that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He wanders on stage inexplicably shoeless, hops around, humps the air, and then outright shrugs towards the end. It was a performance for the ages.
Jerry Springer: perhaps the most notorious talk show of all time.
Never watched it.
But I appreciate its cultural impact. It contributed to the decline of modern civilization in ways that can never be repeated. He was a trailblazer. And that alone commands respect.
We should also take a moment to appreciate Springer’s distinguished political career. To be honest, I don’t remember what he did. Did he pay some masseuse to tug him off while mayor of Cincinnati?
As you all know, I’m a huge fan of Roy Scheider. So every Christmas, I force my family to watch all three seasons of SeaQuest DSV. When the episode with Dom DeLouise came on, I suddenly remembered that time when Scheider lent his voice to Family Guy.
So my dad and me got drunk over thanksgiving and started arguing over the greatest show of the 90s. He said it was Pensacola: Wings of Gold. I laughed in his face and said James Brolin is a little bitch ass compared to Chuck Norris in Walker: Texas Ranger.
I won the argument.
Co-created by Academy-Award winning and legally troubled director/screenwriter Paul Haggis, Walker: Texas Ranger changed television history by giving us the greatest character from the greatest action star of all time: James “Jimmy” Trivette played by Clarance Gilyard Jr.
Norris and Gilyard made an iconic duo as two Texas Rangers delivering justice in the good old fashioned Texas way: using martial arts, roundhouse kicks, and driving around in a Dodge Ram 1500. There will never be another show like it.
So RIP Clarance Gilyard. You made quite an impression on me as a kid. Thankfully your work will live on forever in Walker: Texas Ranger.
While watching nonstop coverage on the destruction of Florida by a cataclysmic hurricane overnight, I found solace in one thing:
“At least Coolio is still alive,” I kept telling everyone.
Artis Leon “Coolio” Ivey Jr (1963-2022)
Coolio was essentially the soundtrack to my childhood growing up in SoCal during the 90s. Gangsta’s Paradise still fucking kicks, in fact, all his shit is dope.
This is a terrible day in American history. Kids will read about “December 7th, 1941” and “September 11th, 2001”, but they will never read about “September 28th, 2022”: the day Florida got fucked up and Coolio died.
The Internet Ruined Everything 