America's greatest and highest flying stunt artist, Evel Knievel, has passed away. Part showman, part shill and all thrill; Knievel was the unholy marriage of man and machine who reminded an entire generation of what you could do, once, of course, you set aside all precedents and fear.
Goodbye you skyscrapping, asskicking, legend.
4 comments:
Hey, I'm a bit behind on matters here at SudStrut (that's what the cool kids call this place), but if you'll pardon my attempt to avoid a downpage comment . . . RE: Urlacher. Did you know that that famous Urlacher boob-grab photo actually took place at the bar the B-day party is happening at next Sat? I expect nothing less from Mr. Ritz RE: use of hands that evening.
Oh and it turns out that the girl who's implants he's grabbing was on that VH1 Rock of Love show, with the "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" dude.
Whoa, I'd say you and I will have our work cut out that night. I'm just going to look for celebs and athletes all night.
Okay, well you go for that route. My game plan is: look for the ugly girl in the cute crowd who's being ignored and target her. Tell her she's got something beautiful to offer this world, take her home and give her my monologue explaining the brilliance of Phil Collins, give her my herpes, and then cut her up. Her friends won't notice that she's gone for 2 to 3 weeks and I'll be in Tijuana by then.
Oh, well, actually, come to think of it I'll end up talking to the men's room attendant all night long and tipping him repeatedly so that he takes pity on me and listens to my unwinding sob stories.
Who are you? Yadda, Jr. or Michael Vick?
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