Guys Night Out? More like Guys Night Stupid

I officially would like to start a petition that changes the official beer sponsor of "Guys Night Out" from Coors Light to Smirnoff Ice.

Take that Kid Rock you fucking jerk.

Reggie Lewis: 11/21/65 - 7/27/93

Twelve years ago, on the night of July 27, 1993, Reggie Lewis passed away. Reggie was last Celtic when it meant something to be a Celtic. He was a Celtic when you were expected to win every game, and he carried himself in the same manner.

I met Reggie one month before he died, when I was at the Cambridge Side Galleria with my parents. Somehow or other my parents won this contest to get an autographed jersey from Reggie, but I was nowhere to be found. Reggie refused to leave until my parents found me so I could meet him and get his autograph. I was 11 years old, and that jersey, albeit with the signature well-faded, still hangs on my wall. A month later, he was gone.

It's hard not to think about how his career would have turned out. There's no point, though, really. Reggie Lewis was a great basketball player and a great man. A true Celtic.

Quick edit to my last post

My final answer of eleven eight-year olds only pertained to the fact they were all boys. If indeed they were mixed in a boy-girl-boy-girl ratio, I know for a fact that my numbers would increase. Especially in one-on-one competition, I would change my estimate to 80 before fatigue and/or a broken hand would cause me to lose.

If it was indeed gang warfare, I change my number to 27 before they crushed my ribs. In this case, I would consider the girls a non-factor until the boys were holding my arms and legs on the ground. At the point, the girls would play a role. They would jump on my chest until it began to cave. At that point, I'd be too weak to fight back and the boys would attack chest until it eventually caved in.

One final note: One thing I did consider through all the pugilism would be in the inevitable nut shot, which could take me down much sooner. To even the playing field, I would insist that everyone wore a cup before the brawl began.

Who's tougher: Me or 12 eight-year olds?

(note: I saw question similar to this on website a few months ago. I can't remember the site, so I guess in a way I'm ripping it off. It's a great question and deserves discussion and I like to think I've added my own little spin as well.)
My whole life, I've always wondered how tough I was. I've been in a few skirmishes here and there, but nothing that's totally proven my manhood. I know I'm not the toughest guy around, but I do know I could kick the shit out of the average American eight-year old, that's for damn sure.

So I guess the questions: Since I know I could destroy an eight-year old in a fight, how many would it take before I was completely overwhelmed by a flurry of eight-year old fists, knees and fingernails?

When it all comes down to it, I guess it would all depend on the eight-year olds. One-on-one, I think I could hold my own for a long time until fatigue sat in. My strategy would to be the agressor and I would attack at the first opportunity. I'd say that-with no weapons-I could defeat 25-30 eight year olds before I got tired and/or I got nailed with a lucky punch.

But, if these guys were smart, they'd attack me all at once and from all sides. It would only be a matter of time before I was overcome. In the latest national survey (in 2002), the average eight-year old weighted between 78 and 83 pounds. Since I tip the scales at close to 160 these days, I feel strong in my belief that I could destroy two at once with no problem.

Three at once, I also feel comfortable in the fact that I would be victorious. The simple fact is, at this point in my life, one punch in the face from me would do much more damage than three punches from them. I'm not bragging, it's just a fact.

For between four and nine at a time, I also believe I would win. I would single out the largest of the group and blast him so fucking hard in the face that the other eight would be scared. And as that child lay helpless on the ground, I'd boot him in the ribs for good measure and them methodically attack the remaining eight.

I'd be like, What's the matter, pussy? You scared? You should be, because you're fucking dead.

Although I think I would still be victorious at 10, it's there that I'd encouter my first problem. It would be here that numbers would catch up to me. If these guys were smart, they'd pounce on me from the beginning. If they employed teamwork, they hold down my arms and legs and between three and four of them could jump on my ribs cage until it broke, cutting off the passage of air until I was eventually rendered unconscious due to lack of oxygen.

So, if these eight year olds were really smart, there's a strong chance I'd be done at seven. But only if they were well-schooled in art of jumping a 23-year old. But I will say, that I would definetly by overwhelmed by 14 eight-year olds in the end.

Gary Busey and Nick Nolte: Brothers?

One simple question to ponder over the weekend: Why the fuck has no one ever made a movie in which Nick Nolte and Gary Busey played brothers? Are you serious? Is there no one that has caught onto the fact that Busey and Nolte look exactly alike? Is this bothering anybody else, because this is crazy.

I watched the hit movie "Rookie of the Year" in the theater in the early '90s. As the credits rolled, I noticed that Gary Busey was credited as playing pitching coach Chet Steadman. I remember thinking to myself, What a second. Nick Nolte's not in this movie?

Can you imagine how much box office of money like this would do? Throw in an on-screen kiss between the two, and I see $$$$$$$$. Can you say cha-ching? Because I certainly can.

You mean to tell me that someone could actually look at a movie like "Legally Blond 2: Red, White and Blond" or "MVP: Most Valuable Primate" and not say, Hold on a minute. Let's throw Nolte and Busey in there, have them play brothers, and see what shakes out.

I know what would shake out. Happiness and smiles from everyone who just had a dream come true.

Yesterday's Heroes: Virgil

Welcome to the first feature on the Low End Theory. Taking a cue from the superbly-done (but somewhat effeminate) blogspot Almoorica, each week the Theory will present a in-depth look at an American fallen icon or out-of-work professional wrestler.

What better way to start it off than with the man known at one time as Virgil, the former bodyguard to the ruthless "Million Dollar Man" Ted DiBiase. While little is known of the V-Man's whereabouts today, we do know this: he had a sick vest-and a huge heart.

Over the years, Virg (who previously wrestled as Soul Train Jones; presumably before he was fully licensed as a bodyguard) was hero to numerous children throughout the U.S. and Canada. Who can forget the grade school essay assignments from our teachers: What do you want to do when you grow up?

I certainly remember what I wrote. "I want to be a bodyguard when I grow up," I wrote. "Just like Virgil."

As a sidenote, two kids in my seventh grade class claim they sat next to Virgil at a Celtics game in early 1994. This has never been confirmed by anyone else in attendance or Virgil himself, but I can imagine that if Virgil played ball anywhere close to his level of bodyguarding, he would be both extraordinary and glorious. You can play on my team anytime, V.

While Virgil never did achieve the same success in the ring as he did protecting the arrogant DiBiase, he broke down doors in the bodyguarding industry. Many of todays bodyguards would not be where they are today without Virgil paving the way.

Virgil, you are not forgetten. You truly are a forgotten hero. We salute you.

That's so Raven redux

As you might have guessed, I've gotten a lot of feedback (some negative) from yesterday's controversial post. And a lot of you couldn't believe what I had to say.

Here's what I meant. I just thought it's a great name for a television show. For example, does everybody love Raymond? Because I certainly don't. I think he's a massive fag. But when Raven and her friends disguise themselves as chefs so they can sneak into the restaurant where her secret crush is eating with his family, does that surprise me? No, because that's so fucking Raven.

Although I will be honest. It did surprise me that see that she had her own video game. I did not know that.

That's so Raven!

Everytime I watch the show "That's So Raven", I think to myself, "That is absolutely the best, most accurate name for a television show ever".

Why? Because everytime I see what kind of hijinx Raven and co. have gotten themselves into this week, I always say to myself, "Oh my God. That's so Raven!"

Jay London rubber bracelets now available

Jay London rubber bracelets are now available in the Low End Theory store. Taking a cue from bike-riding legend Lance Armstrong, these bracelets are the perfect gift for anyone you know who loves fashing trends and watches MTV. They are available in two colors, denim and light denim, and have two small Hello Kitty logos on each side. All proceeds go to "Jay London orders WWE SummerSlam Pay-Per-View" charity.

My apologies to Mr. Peanut and the Peanut family.

In a previous post, I wrote that renowned nut-spokesman Mr. Peanut's first name is Brian. I apologize for the error. His name is Keith.

Blog all over my face: An Introduction

C'est la vie. That's a famous quote. What language it is, I'm not quite sure. But, the point is, a famous quote is a great way to start a blog.

What's a blog, you ask? That's an awesome question. And you won't believe the answer. For years-and I mean years-I had always thought that a blog was a like a big fat supervillian from a comic book or a horror movie. You know, like Jabba The Hut or Slimer from Ghostbusters. Truth be told, it turns out that I was actually thinking of a blob.

That's why when anyone would ask me "Do you have an online blog?", I would always answer "That's disgusting."