Thug Rose Namajunas and Pat Barry are without a doubt a couple of very interesting people. These power punching cage fighters are always doing something fun and editing up their adventures with some groovy music and in a easy-to-watch flow. Check it out!
We live in a society that is filled with celebrities. Many of which have no discernible talent or skill. They simply “got famous”. Some were born to famous parents, some achieved their “celebrity status” on a “reality” TV show. Some just woke up famous from a bad decision.
Japanese phenom Genki Sudo is not like that. He is more than a celebrity. He’s a Fighter that sings. A Composer that slugs. Baseball player and philosopher. Warrior and peace advocate.
He became a superstar in Japan through Wrestling and Mixed Martial Arts and even beat a 400lb man while he weighs only 150. And not just any fat lardbutt – Butterbean, a world championship boxer!
After he pretty much beat everybody at his weight, he retired from MMA and started a band. Not one of those “celebrity bands” like the daughters of rock stars or girlfriends of millionaires are in, but a genuinely good band that made beautiful music and fascinating videos to go with them.
The music is techno; but not that infuriating, ecstasy-fueled, over-over-repetitive garbage your kids are raving to all night. It’s light and happy and, even though the lyrics are in Japanese leaves you feeling like hugging your landlord.
Oh – one line from one song is in English – “have a nice day”.
The videos that World Order, Genki’s band made are simply euphorious. The highly choreographed robot dances are mesmerizing and usually performed in public places, celebrating the crowded life that Japanese city folk live. Many scenes feature passersby laughing and pointing or simply recording on their smart phones.
Even when they film in New York or Mexico City, where virtually no one knows who they are they turn heads. People just love watching.
Genki Sudo is truly one of a kind. From his pre-fight walk-in extravaganzas to his Asimo-inspired movements, he will make you smile.
You can’t even say “Genki Sudo” without smiling. Go ahead I dare you. And have a nice day!
Each and every year millions of Irish, Irish-ish and amateur alcoholics are needlessly distracted from their Holy Tradition of drinking themselves into a stupor in honour of Saint Patrick and the wee island he adopted as home. They spit-take their libations—a shameful waste; they wring their flat caps; they clutch their camáin that little bit tighter; and the cailíní rua glow their familiar shade of rage.
The source of this terrible distraction?
An onslaught of superficial, dyed-green references to Saint Patrick’s Day as Patty’s Day. Like nails on a chalkboard. It gnaws at them. It riles them up. It makes them want to fight… you know, more than usual.
Paddy is derived from the Irish, Pádraig: the source of those mysterious, emerald double-Ds.
Patty is the diminutive of Patricia, or a burger, and just not something you call a fella.
There isn’t a sinner in Ireland that would refer to a Patrick as “Patty”. It’s as simple as that.
Get the whole rundown here:
Seems like the Dude can’t walk near a couple of women without this happening.
I remember when old Jake (who was tired of my Dad trying to get him off the sauce) told My Dad to “get down off yer high horse”.
At that age I didn’t understand why he’d say that. We only had ponies and they were not ‘specially high even for Welshes. One time when I was about four we had Dixie, a Quarterhorse – but that was in Alabama and Jake didn’t even know us then. How come he’d want my dad off a pony even when he wasn’t on one at the time.
As I got up in the middle school years, I grew to understand the expression, not only as the way Rich kids (who thought their snot wasn’t green) thought of me but also how I thought of kids who didn’t go by the exacting moral code that I had known since my birth.
When kids would want to snitch drinks from the Duck Inn, I would tell them how stealing was wrong and how it would only hurt the family that owned the tiny country store.
Kids would tell me to get off my high horse.
I was talking with my Dad about why some people didn’t do what was right and how many of these people never got caught and some unscrupulous folks got rich doing it.
My dad, reflecting on how folks didn’t quite understand why we always did what was right and why we spoke out against those that were wrong said this to me:
“When all you got is your high horse, it’s perty durn hard to come down off it!”
I grew up with the notion that you had to “Respect your elders”. I try to make sure that any interaction I have with folks older than me is courteous, and that I smile and listen to what they have to say. I don’t think that “older equals wiser” but that it is your duty to show respect to people who’ve been here longer than you.
One day it will be my turn to geeze and I expect the same from future generations.
I’ve learned that many geezers have actually accumulated some knowledge along the way. Surprisingly, those who have survived planet earth for more than seventy years have not always done it by chance, but by their wits.
When we see shriveled, hunched bodies scuttling along – we seldom think about how that person got to be that way. We want them out of the way – they walk slow. We don’t want to interact – they might not hear us well and we have to repeat or speak really loud. We fear we may someday be like them, not realizing we would have achieved something to be old enough to be hunched and shriveled.
What we really should do is take a few minutes to interact. Ask them just a question or two and actually listen. That treasure dude would have never known about that big-ass diamond that the chick lost on the Titanic if we didn’t have to sit through 3 and a half hours of her, as a hundred year old senile bat, blathering on about her sexual infidelity as a young hottie.
I don’t know where this is going but I wanted to tell you this lil quip that Wally from the gym spat out last night.
For quite a while Michele and I would see this guy at the gym. About 90 pounds, soaking wet with rocks in his pocket, he gets on the treadmill at the slowest setting. Then pauses every two seconds to catch up. Then he saunters over to different pieces of equipment, stopping at each one and reading little folded pieces of paper for about five minutes before he does 30 seconds of exercise.
The smart ass in me just can’t help but make comments about this little nebbish, throwing him under the comic bus. Easy pickin’s. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m not a good person. I wonder why he comes to the gym at all. He could get as much exercise walking to the kitchen and opening a can of soup.
A month or two ago I look across the way to the girl corner (where they have the pink weights and those bouncy balls) and there’s my wife, chatting with the little dinosaur, who’s sitting on a bouncy ball.
I ended up going over and getting introduced to Wally. He used to work in the Pentagon and having lived for decades in D.C. was going on with Michele about how it used to be, the things that have changed, etc…
So now every time we see him, we spend a few minutes talking. It makes him feel better and we learn a thing or two. I get the feeling he is really really old, but he has never disclosed how old. I wonder what exactly he did in the Pentagon. He said he was a statistician. Was he maybe a spy? Did he decode Nazi secrets? Maybe he’s a trained killer. Maybe he kept statistics.
I wonder if he’s in bad shape for a 70 year old or exceptional condition for a guy over a hundred. Michele and I keep listening to references of years and trying to deduce his age.
He told us once about the first time he was rejected from getting “student price” tickets. It was at the World’s Fair. He was 24. He smiled slyly and said – “But I won’t tell you what city!”
So last night we were chit chatting about the size of Taft’s bathtub; how popular he was for being so big while everybody else was starving and how it was considered good health back then and how today it’s despised when Wally said, “That’s my memories, but it’s ancient history to you two.”
Michele -hoping to trick him into saying his birth year- said, “That was before we were born. I was born in 68 and he was in 64”, pointing at me.
“I remember when I was 64 and 68″, said Wally, “But that’s ancient history to me.”
Let me say from the git-go that I ain’t got nuttin agin them young’ns havin’ their wizard fests and goblin huntin’s.
But fer Cryin’ out loud – Grown men need to stop it!
There ain’t nuttin’ wrong with the ladies havin’ their imaginary farms and pretend crime sprees.
But, for the love of Mike – Full Growed men need to stop it!
Once you move out of yer mommy’s house you need to quit all them baby games and act right. If’n yer still a’leechin’ off’n yer folks, well I guess that’s their problem fer not launchin’ yer butt out the window. But if you have yer own place and yer still mining hallucinatory ores, Cut that crap out!
Real men don’t waste their lives on silly little space missions and mythological dates with fictional females in “virtual worlds”
No bungees for these Dudes to try and kill themselves – just regular climbing rope. You have to give them Credit for taking care of themselves, though. Preparation, practice and good old toughness (even the chicks) got them through without any ambulances.
And you have to love the generic Russian Rock music.
The Condemned Starring “stone cold” Steve Austin
– I thought it was gonna be the 6 Million Dollar Man, but he turned out to be some pro wrestler dude.
So it’s similar to the Ray Liotta movie where they are prisoners on a deserted island and they’re all gonna get killed so let’s just start shooting and blowing stuff up, BUT – and here’s the catch: They also knife people and whack ’em with sticks and stuff! – Pretty cool, huh?
An added bonus is that some innerweb hotshot (who wants to cash in on these bad-ass killer dudes killin’ each other on pay per view) pisses off StoneColdSteveAustin (that’s how you’re supposed to say his name – like really fast) So now he’s out to get the whole dang TV crew and the innerweb dude that started the whole thing.
hmmmm… What will happen?