Admit it. You hate LeBron James. Come on now, it’s OK. Unless you live in Miami you hate the guy. You do. Even if you don’t know who LeBron James is, that just means you hate him and you don’t know it yet.

Sports is often a narrative. In the case of the 2011 NBA Finals, that narrative was unwavering and clear.

Good vs. Evil. Loyalty vs. Prostitution. Perseverance vs. Short cuts. Humility vs. Bravado. Hard work vs. Entitlement. Team vs. Individual. In short: LeBron vs. The World.

Here then is a long series of questions, some of which are rhetorical, most of which I obsessively have wondered about in the wake of Miami’s game six loss to the Dallas Mavericks:

How did this narrative become so entrenched in the media? So generally accepted as truth in popular culture?

Why were the Miami Heat portrayed as selfish, individual mercenaries when in fact, the idea of three of the best players coming together (for less money) instead of attempting vaingloriously to win by themselves every year with an individual spotlight seems by definition less selfish?

How do we explain the paradoxical demand on James to stop passing the ball at the end of games and assume a dogged alpha-male role, then at the same time accuse him of inflammatory arrogance when he acknowledges that he possesses prodigious talent? Do we want him to be irrationally cocky or not? Is he passing the ball too much or too little?

How can this series be a lasting referendum on James’ legacy as a basketball player even though he has played in just 10 NBA Finals games? How can people say with such certainty that James’ legacy is tarnished irrevocably in the exact same series that saw Dirk Nowitzki completely rewrite his legacy in a positive way?

Why do people keep saying with condescension that James will never be the next Michael Jordan when James has never actually said that he has a desire to be the next Michael Jordan?

Ok, so I lied. All these question are rhetorical because you already know the answer to all of them: it’s because we hate LeBron James. We do!

Every irrational reason the media can have to make him look more ridiculous and progress the collective social consciousness is going to be capitalized upon and rationalized.

Which, as the title of this posts suggests, posits the true question: why do we hate LeBron?

Extrapolating the post-game press conferences, much has been made about James’ response to a question regarding the hate that has been spewed his way. The quote:

“At the end of the day, all the people that was rooting on me to fail . . . they have to wake up tomorrow and have the same life that they had before they woke up today. They have the same personal problems they had today. I’m going to continue to live the way I want to live and continue to do the things that I want to do with me and my family and be happy with that.

They can get a few days or a few months or whatever the case may be on being happy about not only myself, but the Miami Heat not accomplishing their goal, but they have to get back to the real world at some point.’’

This has been the sound-byte of the series so far. Not a quote from any Dallas Mavericks players, not a quote from Dallas’ out-spoken owner (who last summer tried desperately to sign James as a free agent but was spurned). A few sentences uttered by James is all anyone can focus on, and how like, see! He’s such a douche.

Parsing it a little deeper however and one starts to wonder what James really meant. As Jason Whitlock so acutely tweeted, maybe “LeBron wanted to say: ’Haters taking joy in my suffering won’t experience joy for long. I can handle it. I’ll be fine.’”

I could see that. It’s a rational explanation for a vague and meandering comment.

Yet this quote has been perceived and construed by many as just another indicator of James’ sociopath ego. As a personal attack on the working class. As symptomatic of his lack of self-actualization. There is little room for nuance in this story when the particulars are so set in stone.

In reality though, the tenor of the question is something peculiar in itself. After losing the NBA Finals, James was lobbed questions not about how Dallas won the series. Rather, people were asking him, what’s wrong with you? Not “why did you lose?” but an incredulous, palms up “how could you have lost?”

The fickleness of sports culture is undeniable. If James had turned in a transcendent performance and led his team to a championship, none of these criticisms would exist.

And, no doubt, by every metric both subjective and quantitative, James performed poorly in this grandest of basketball stages.  All this lambasting of James not as a basketball talent, but as a human being, would be null and void if he had performed better on the court, even though he’d be the exact same human being.

That’s just the way it is in sports. Winning trumps everything. We go out of our way to make excuses for winners, and this is the heart of why we hate LeBron so vehemently. Because as of today, he’s still a loser.

Basically, we hate him because we want to love him. But the dude won’t let us because he keeps losing, man.

Would you want to “Be Like Mike” if Jordan was the same player minus those six championship rings? Would Mike be remembered as the greatest of all time, or just another selfish scoring machine and gambling defense player whose hyper competitiveness bordered on vindictiveness?

James is 28 years old and just now at the prime of his powers. He is, without a doubt, the most talented, most complete physical specimen ever to play the game of basketball. His potential is unfathomable. His knowledge of the game is off the charts. He could be the greatest of all time.

But he isn’t yet, because he hasn’t won. James is the greatest tease in the world, and it’s infuriating.

If LeBron goes on to win six consecutive championships from the age of 29-35; if he learns from this experience and reaches even near the lofty expectations his talents demand; in a decade we will all be fondly basking in the chance to live during the LeBron James experience. Nobody will remember this week. History will render our hatred a footnote.

So yea, we hate LeBron James right now. We might think he’s the biggest dick in the world. That he’s pampered, and egomaniacal, and ignorant.  But the more we hate him, the more it really means we want desperately to love LeBron James.

The more we cheer his failures, the more, deep down, we want to see him succeed and reach new stratospheric heights.

We might just not know it yet.

Just like on the African savannah, there is a circle of life within the macro lens of Marshall McLuhan’s Global Village. One such online tradition is the revered and bi-annual making of snarky derisions about Olympic logos and mascots.

It should have come as no surprise than, that when the 2012 Summer Olympic committee took the wraps off their new logo in jolly old England last week, controversy quickly followed. Similar to previous Olympic logos, the reactions were mainly par for the course in terms of graphic slander; too trendy! too indecipherable! too garish! or even, apparently, too subconsciously Simpsons hentai?

Unlike Olympic controversies of yore however, there was one particular and unusual accusation that cut through the din, a glaring finger pointed at the kinetic London 2012 typeface that has caused more than a few double takes this week: the logo is too racist.

Today, Bahram Afsharzadeh, the secretary general of Iran’s National Olympic Committee announced the Middle-Eastern nation may consider boycotting the 2012 summer games because they claim the jagged logo spells out the word “Zion”, a biblical term used to describe Jerusalem.

The Iranians (who clearly have no other pressing issues to deal with) in the same memo, called on other Muslim states to protest the “racist logo”. A rudimentary google search reveals the offensive jumble permutation Secretary Afsharzadeh doth protest.

In the ultimate irony, of course, another parallel criticism has been that the logo bears a passing resemblance to a Nazi swastika (except you know, if Hitler rose to power in America in the mid 80′s).

Too Jewish. Not Jewish enough. POOR LONDON 2012! Sure, the redcoats won an Oscar for The Kings Speech this year but those hoighty toighty islanders also spent £400,000 on this logo for which they just can’t win!

Unsurprisingly, the 2012 Summer Games committee is denying their logo is racist in any way, although under the strangely withering glare of critics an event spoke person has recently hedged some bets by noting “”It’s not a logo, it’s a brand that will take us forward for the next five years.”

Looking at the logos of Olympic games past, it certainly does become apparent London 2012 was purposely trying to think outside the box. It doesn’t take a graphic designer to notice one of these things is not like the other, but only time will tell if the decision to be a trendsetter will make London the envy of Olympic hosts to come, or, you know, just a bunch of Nazi Zionist Perverts.

Understanding these nuances is, what experts believe, separates casual NBA fans from the hardcore; the fans who got free tickets with their pizza, from those who watch games online for a living.

These same NBA pundits tend to laugh when fans boo players. It doesn’t help, they say. It’s unwarranted, they reason. It’s not personal. NBA basketballer is an occupation and fans need to put themselves in the shoes of the athlete to understand decisions that are likely more complex than they know.

These experts surely know a lot about basketball, but, pardon my French here — they are also idiots.

Toronto has an NBA franchise that over the course of its 25 year existence has gained notoriety really for just one thing — having its best player leave because the team sucks, then booing that player with the intensity of a thousand suns whenever said prodigal player returns.

But lets be honest here. This isn’t about basketball. Torontonians aren’t booing players who left the city because our affections were unrequited, or because players chose other cities over ours. That’s ridiculous and insulting to Raptor fans everywhere. It mocks the sensibilities of Toronto’s citizens.

Rather, the reason Damon Stoudamire was booed on his return, the same reason Tracy McGrady was booed, why Vince Carter is loathed and the explanation for why Chris Bosh, when he returns tonight, will likely be heckled unlike any athlete ever in the history of the franchise, is much simpler — these guys are all douche bags.

Toronto isn’t stupid. Basketball may be a newish sport to some, but fans certainly get that the Raptors suck. If a player were to come out and say “I want to play for a better team. Nothing personal. Adios!” I can’t imagine they would be booed. Feelings might be hurt, sure. But people would get it, you know?

But has that ever been the case? Stoudamire forced a trade instead of playing out his contract. Tracy McGrady is so narcissistic he pouted like a child about not starting this past summer despite having the knees of a geriatric and the body mass of a stale Cheeto. Vince Carter is widely acknowledged as a lazy, pansy, mamma’s boy (not just in Toronto, but everywhere, by everyone, including other players), and Chris Bosh has recently been called “Ru Paul” and a “fake tough guy” by his own NBA peers.

You’re telling me these guys don’t deserve to be booed? If other players don’t respect them as people, why should the fans they pissed off?

I would absolutely posit the Raptors don’t have a history of driving great players out — instead, the team has an unfortunate history of acquiring talented players who are assholes. The Raptors are like that nice friend you have who just has a horrible, horrible track record of relationships that they just couldn’t have forseen would end as badly as they did. The ones where even externally you look at those relationships and think with helpless pity “man, that just sucks”.

Torontonians, like Canadians at large, are generally a laid back bunch. But we have values in this town. We appreciate hard work, generosity, loyalty and considerate behaviour. In essence, we’re nice people, and douche bags make us angry.

NBA experts have it wrong. It’s not childish of us to boo Chris Bosh. It’s absurd for us not to, because if people booed narcissistic jerks in real life as mercilessly as fans booed basketball players, the world would probably be a better place. And this is the one venue where we can.

Imagine you could boo the idiot at work who sucks at his job but plays office politics to backstab and get ahead? Imagine you could boo the person who takes your parking spot in a mall parking lot during the holiday season?

This is your chance to get all those boos out. I’m going to boo Chris Bosh tonight, and if I could, I’d also boo him while he changes into his uniform, while he brushes his teeth, while he makes coffee and when he skips a song on his iPod.

I’m going to boo him not for what he did, but for what he stands for. And it’s got nothing to do with basketball.

Want to start your own team? Official rules are available online.

More power to you, nerds magical student athletes. Tangentially, I have had butterbeer. It is delish.

You know those people who ask a lot of rhetorical questions in order to make their points? Don’t you just hate that? Have you seen LeBron James’ new ad for Nike?

Seriously though, let’s walk through this ad.

LeBron is conversing with us. Directly. OHMIGODOGMIGOD.

“What should I do?”

Look, it’s the set of the decision! He’s wearing the same purple gingham shirt and LeBron’s admitting he made a mistake! Did he change his mind and decide to go to Olive Garden instead??

Now he’s reminding us that as a high school student, he transferred schools in order to play with his best friends (and won a state championship). That’s right, he’s done this before guys, remember? The NBA — it’s just like transferring high schools!

Now he’s driving by the giant witness wall decal in Cleveland as it comes down, reminding his adopted town of the good times he gave them and how easily they seem to forget! Just because he promised the city a championship then bailed, REMEMBER HOW HARD HE TRIED.

Now he’s at an empty hall of fame induction ceremony discussing his perceived legacy, clearly a shot at Michael Jordan and openly wondering aloud what good is being enshrined in the hall of fame and considered the greatest of all-time if everybody also thinks you’re the biggest asshole in the world (hint: I don’t think Michael Jordan cares if you hate him. Plus guess what? You don’t hate him. You totally love him, no matter how much of a dick he is).

Now perhaps a comment on that old Turkish basketball player Allen Iverson, and his decades ago commercials about being himself, tatoos and all?

Now LeBron is suggesting he pretend nothing happened and just go on shilling shoes.

Oh hey! A call-back to those classic Charles Barkley ads abou… oh wait, he’s mocking him. “Hi Charles”. I didn’t know they actually made pink Homer Simpson style donuts in reality.

SERIOUSLY GUYS. WHAT SHOULD I DO? He’s starting to get whiny. I hate indecisive people. Ironic that this all stems from a television special called “The Decision”.

Should I accept my role… (as a sidekick?) as a villain? (Oh, I see what you did there. “Villain” should have been written in Comic Sans).

Should I stop listening to my friends? They’re my friends! (That’s not a reason dude. I tell my friends to do all sorts of stupid shit. I’m the LAST person my friends should listen to, that’s what friends are for. You want good advice, hire a shrink).

Should I make movies? (Is this a Shaq jab? I don’t even get this).

Should I make you laugh? Read you a soulful poem? Clear the deck and start over? What should I do?

Should I be who you want me to be?

********

I don’t know LeBron, but for most people, it doesn’t require multi-million dollar campaigns to explain to people how they are so themselves. People just are.

This minute and a half ad? It’s bullshit is what it is. Stop trying so hard to make us like you, it does just the exact opposite. Maybe if you had spent time in high school making new friends instead of cliqing up with your childhood ones, you’d realize that’s a lesson most people learn in grade 9.

Also, I might draft you in my fantasy pool tonight, so, you know. Hope you have a great season!

Boys (note: not men, but often men might have a little boy inside them. figuratively, of course. ew.) by and large are going to be interested in some very basic things in life, regardless of where you grew up, what language you speak, what your socioeconomic status is or whether you were raised in an orphanage — dinosaurs, fire and cars.

Why is a mystery to me. But rest assured, even if a guy knows nothing about palaeontology, couldn’t start a fire with a lighter and doesn’t know how to open the hood of his Audi, he would absolutely drop everything to watch a YouTube video featuring a flaming T-Rex driving a Lotus Elise.

As such, witness Ken Block, basically realizing the fantasy of every child who ever played with a Hot Wheel, except while driving a real, 650-hp Ford until he literally burns the tires off his ride. I mean, some of the stuff he does in this video I would never even have imaged with my toy cars — and he’s flying around on a 51 degree banked racetrack.

Hands down, coolest car video I have ever seen. There’s a whole series but this is my favourite.

And the best part? They made these videos to sell shoes.

SHOES!

You gotta love the world we live in.

“I’m not gay. My boyfriend is,” answered Ring, deadpan, to the show’s producers according to a fellow cast-mate. And that’s the confusing (and highly amusing) dance he’s been dancing for a long time now. For most, the possibility of Ring’s gayness started on TUF when the well-spoken Canadian flaunted a well-tuned flamboyance to make his rivals uneasy around him. But it seems to be an affectation Ring has been using since way before — his nickname, “the Promise”, creates a fun wordplay with his surname that is far from the usual tough guy monikers found in a sport full of “Pit Bulls”, “Hammers”, and even an “Axe Murderer”.

If you didn’t watch the 11th season of TUF (who could blame you?) Ring wrote a nice summary of how all the gay rumours started, or how he started them, on his recap blog:

From their bedroom, McCray loudly asks me a loaded question that goes a little bit like “Hey Ring, Why would you get a massage from a dude at 3 AM?” I knew exactly where he was trying to go with this one so I thought fuck it – I’ll play, so I answered “because I’m a big queer”.

They started laughing hard in disbelief at my remark, and I walked into their room and leaned my shoulder up against the doorway while I flossed my teeth.

I knew that my reply would likely take most of the wind out of their sails but being the couple of Neanderthals they are, they relented by saying that I’m standing gay and tried telling me that I need to change my posture blah blah blah. I just thought it was funny so just poured it on more until they dropped it…

I didn’t realize how funny that would actually look on camera, but I was just kind of doing my thang. Me and my friends always joke around like this and I guess some people aren’t used to that, I got labelled a queer in the house pretty fast due to some of the shit that comes out of my mouth hahaha. I wasn’t really too bothered by it though, I know who I am and my friends back home know me and will just laugh about it anyway.

His antics didn’t stop there. Ring also reportedly enjoyed running around the house in his underwear, chasing homophobic teammate Jamie Yager. His “oh-no-you-di’int” finger wag was a favourite gesture. And though his commentary on the whole matter suggests (without actually denying, of course) that he was just acting gay to roll with the punches, his lispy speech patterns and gay-or-just-Canadian? demeanor appeared to be a natural part of his charm. It held up even during serious moments, like when he had to reluctantly inform his coach he was nursing a serious injury. Post TUF, his Facebook profile pic featured him with pursed lips in the middle of a pinkie-up swig of white wine, and the info on his page still reads “Possibly the most Queer guy in MMA…Ok?”

All of this, of course, means nothing, at least not about Ring’s orientation. But already just the insinuation of Ring’s queerness has forced MMA fans to entertain the idea of not just an openly gay fighter in their manly-man sport, but a really, really good openly gay fighter. Because straight up, Ring is a pleasure to watch. A former kickboxer with dozens of matches under his belt, he’s a wonder on his feet. Several of his victories came via TKO. He submitted someone with strikes. Fellow Canuck Bill Mahood submitted to him verbally. No slouch on the ground either.

Ring actually being gay would be great for the sport. Not only would it force some of the slower fans to grow up and come to terms with their notions about gay men, but it could also help some of MMA’s deriders to re-think their opinions about the cage being only a stomping ground for, as Ring puts it, Neanderthals. (Not that there were no gay Neanderthals.) It could also help put an end to all those smug pseudo-intellectual dismissals of MMA being homoerotic or “totally gay.” Yes, a gay fighter would accomplish that — by underscoring that two guys rolling around in a cage is a far cry from two guys rolling around in a bed. Which it is. (For the record, something is erotic or homoerotic only if it turns you on or is trying to turn you on or features people getting turned on. Got it? Now hurry, you’re late for your cultural studies class.)

My ultimate hope though is that his persona and the minor kerfuffle it has raised makes gay athletes feel more open to trying out the sport, or to publicly coming out if they’re already here. While Ring has of course endured his share of juvenile jokes, he has also been welcomed into many locker rooms and competition spheres. UFC president Dana White has already said his organization welcomes gay fighters to the fold. Ring — whether the self-started rumours are true or not — has proven that White was more or less being sincere. Ring has shown that that’s what you get when you fight as undeniably well as he does. That, and maybe even some 3 a.m. massages too.

(Hat tips to Cage Potato)

It was that kind of a night

A great UFC fight card went down on Saturday. Three matches were particularly amazing, for the fights themselves but also for the stories they told.

Krzysztof Soszynski vs. Stephan Bonnar

The last time Krzysztof Soszynski and Stephan Bonnar clashed, they clashed head on, with an accidental butt in the final round that opened Bonnar’s brow and unleashed a nauseating stream of blood. The red got everywhere, notably all over Bonnar’s face, but also dramatically all over Soszynski’s snow-white shorts. The octagon looked more like a slaughterhouse than it usually does. Soszynski was awarded a controversial TKO victory — controversial because who comes out a winner by illegal means? What is this? America? (It was Australia.) — and even though Bonnar was headed to the sad side of the scorecards, it was nonetheless an injustice.

And so here we were again at UFC 116, Soszynski’s balded-up dome and tatt-covered frame again pitted across Bonnar’s battered journeyman body and tradesman face. It was an important fight for Bonnar, who had lost three in a row and was losing the goodwill from fans he gained five years ago in a classic, front to back barn brawl with Forrest Griffin.

Bonnar has never looked like a fighter, neither in physique, face or technique, but he fought like one, all heart and ugly smiles and a chin that can weather wrecking balls. Whatever doubts grew about his long-term prospects, that was the Bonnar who showed up this night. That Bonnar avenged his losses, ran all over the cage like a tweaked hamster, dropped Soszynski twice in the second round with knees and fists and elbows to the body, and then had his arm raised by ref Mario Yamasaki in the end. There he was, smiling and flexing, bloody and proud.

I don’t know about his place in the light heavyweight division, where he stands or in what direction he goes, but there should be no doubt now about his place in our hearts. He’s bled for us so many times.

Chris Leben vs. Yoshihiro Akiyama

Yoshihiro Akiyama had insulted Chris Leben. It wasn’t the typical kind of insult that fighters lob to promote events; it was the type of insult that most avoid because it’s too disrespectful and also bad for business. Akiyama, calmly and soberly, insulted Leben by saying he didn’t want to fight him. He didn’t say Leben sucked and therefore he would destroy him. No, he said Leben sucked and therefore he preferred not to fight at all. He said, gallingly, Leben wasn’t worth the effort.

At least, that’s how Leben and many fans saw it. To be fair, they were right; Akiyama was being disrespectful, but to be even fairer, not enough weight was put on the fact that Akiyama was supposed to fight Wanderlei Silva that night. Silva pulled out last-minute due to injury and Leben, who had just fought (to victory) only two weeks earlier, took his place on the card. This proved a tactical inconvenience for Akiyama — Leben is a southpaw and Akiyama had prepared for Silva’s orthodox stlye — but even more than that, I believe, Leben was a prick that deflated Akiyama’s prideful motivations.

Akiyama is a Korean fighter who built his career in Japan, a country that Wanderlei Silva lorded over for years as one of the country’s most beloved fighters, definitely its most dominant. This was to be a benchmark in Akiyama’s career, and given that his last fight with a Japan legend, Kazushi Sakuraba, ended in grease covered allegations of cheating and a falling out with the public, you can see why this fight would mean so much to him. To go from a match-up that carries that much personal meaning to a last-minute trudge with a dude most people know as just a red-dyed, heavy-handed shit-talker, must have been hard on the heart.

But Akiyama is a professional fighter; he should have just fought the fight. Eventually he did, and what a fight it was. The judo master dominated Leben in the first round, throwing him to the mat, dropping hammer fists and escaping submission attempts with ease. In the second, the footing was more even, Akiyama and Leben standing and trading, Akiyama getting rocked but shaking it off, Leben getting taken down but standing back up, each man swinging as the bell rang. In the third, however, Akiyama got caught in a triangle choke and, with a scant 20 seconds left in the fight, the grappler who trained for the Fight of His Life tapped out to an 11th hour replacement. To a striker, no less.

When Akiyama looks back at the tape with his head on straight, hopefully he will see that he was dwarfed. He should probably in the future drop a weight class, to where he’ll cut a more imposing shadow. And if he is still considered about earning respect and crafting a legacy, he should know now that this is how its done — by fighting your face off. All things considered, it a was greater bout than it had any right to be, and both men look the better for it. They both needed it.

Brock Lesnar vs. Shane Carwin

There’s that old phrase, “a puncher’s chance.” And then there was this match, between two unfathomable beheamoths, that took that phrase and made it sound urgent and amazing again. As a so-called puncher, Shane Carwin’s accomplishments are almost unbelieavable. Twelve fights, twelve victories, seven of them knockouts, none of them lasting longer than the first round. And then there was Brock Lesnar, heavyweight champion with just five bouts notched on his record. Two guys who get things done by force. By willpower, yes, but also by just power, disgusting amounts of it. Upstarts, both of them, already this early in their ring lives fighting to see who (after the fall of Fedor just a week earlier) was the best in the world, bar none.

There was talk of possible ring rust for Lesnar, who had been sidelined for a year by a possibly career-ending intestinal illness. But did the concept of ring rust even apply to a phenom who rose to champion status so quickly? There was also talk questioning Carwin’s gas tank, but such talk would not matter if one of those fists landed where he wanted them to. A puncher’s chance, yes, but also a puncher’s plan. It was a task that Carwin obviously knew how to accomplish.

Carwin unloaded quickly as he always does, rocking Lesnar who turtled and backed away. What a sight, to see a dinosaur ball up and hang on for dear life! Lesnar covered and composed himself, stalled for time, lasted the round despite the onslaught of heavy leather. The effort seemed to have gassed Carwin, who stared glass-eyed into the ether between rounds as his trainers tried to coach him. As they stood to enter the second round, it was clear. Carwin’s legs were lazy, he was sucking air to replenish his thick arms, he was lifeless. Lesnar was red in the face but fresh. Lesnar took him down, and in a shocking display of measured martial arts technique, hopped off the mount to secure an arm triangle. Carwin floundered a bit and tried to create space, but Lesnar sunk it deeper and it was over. Carwin tapped, and Lesnar ascended. Only his sixth fight. Scary to think that this is him still just learning.

(photos via)

This trailer for Wu-Tang vs. The Golden Phoenix is staggering. The RZA’s film features a 34th generation Shaolin monk, members of Jackie Chan’s stunt team, the founder of  the Universal African Fighting System (more on this please) and The RZA, kickin’ ass in a du-rag. There’s no release date but OH HELL YEAH. (via Vulture)

Sorry for slacking with my posts lately. Just a quick one here to update my previous list of deadly actors to include Michael Jai White, who previously slipped under my radar because 98 per cent of his movies suck real bad. Sorry for sleeping! Check the above vid, where White teaches professional mma star (and amateur street fighting legend) Kimbo Slice how to throw better punches. By punching slower.

(*laughs as your brain melts*)

I do hope that Mortal Kombat thing takes off, because I’d like to see White get another crack at A-list action stardom. Now that Jackie Chan is officially old and receiving second-billing next to children, Tony Jaa is quitting movies to be a monk, and everyone else is white and wise-cracky, it’s time for some decent alternatives. That’s another post for another time though.

(via)