The latest George Zimmerman circus is a snapshot of everything that is admirable, and simultaneously, grotesque about Mairka.
I was completely oblivious to his plan to fight a black guy until I had a chance to catch up with my bubba buddy yesterday. I haven’t stopped laughing about it since.
The guy who came up with this idea, I assume it wasn’t Zimmerman himself, is a cynical genius, a hybrid of Emperor Caligula
and PT Barnum.
Take the most reviled honky
in a nation that is constantly on the edge of race wars,
and put him into the ring with a black man.
It just doesn’t get any more base, any more vile, any more funny than that (but I am going to try to one-up it before the close of this piece, so keep reading, kids).
As soon as Bubba told me about this bolt of Barnumian brilliance I knew exactly how it should play out. Zimmerman absolutely has to kick the shit out of the first negroid gladiator to enter the ring with him. It has to be close, for a while. But in the end, Zimmerman, a man so villainous that not even a dog could love him, has to drag the guy from one end of the ring to the other, leaving behind so much blood that they’ll have to send in a motherfucking Zamboni.
And them listen to them HOWL! From Seattle to Miami, Mairkans will be screaming, REMATCH!
Not a rematch with the chump who lost (after being paid a cool million to do so, naturally) but with someone bigger. Much bigger. Someone so fucking big that the fucking Pope and the Dalai Lama would be sitting ringside.
Bubba understood what I was telling him. And he agreed. “Mike Tyson!,” he exclaimed.
I was impressed. That would be great. Watch Tyson bite one ear off, then the other. Then, after battering Zimmerman into a bleeding bag of bones connected to a comatose brain, let the big dog eat. Let Tyson eat Zimmerman’s face. Which is good, but not good enough.
“No,” I said, “I have something much better.”
“C’mon, how does it get any better than that,” said a doubting friend.
“OJ Simpson,” I laughed.
“OJ fucking Simpson!”
Bubba stopped breathing for about 13 seconds. He hasn’t stopped laughing since he caught his breath.
OJ Fucking Simpson, brothers and sisters. Loser goes to prison, for the rest of his life
Moments after Bubba hung up, I was listening to BBC World Service, which was rebroadcasting a long piece about Gitmo.
I’d heard it before but paid no attention the first time. However. this time the Evil Clown Gods Who Rule the Universe were screaming at me to LISTEN! So I did.
At one point, the Beeb’s man pointed out that Obama has promised to close down Gitmo as part of his 08 campaign. “Fuck no!” I screamed. “Never! Never, ever close down Gitmo, Mairka. I have a far better idea.”
About a decade or so ago, when the reality TV stuff was still in its diapers, someone had the clever idea of doing a reality TV version of The Beverley Hillbillies.
They’d gone to deepest, darkest Kentucky, or Arkansas or wherever, and found a family of banjo playing inbreds.
They was gonna put ’em on a banged up old truck truck and send ’em off to Beverley Hills with platinum cards in their wallets.
I don’t know who it was that brought the hammer down on the series, but they did, before they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverley… Hills that is… swimming pools… movie stars. I had no idea there was some kind of patron saint of hillbillies. But, apparently, there is, and they threatened a Million Hillbilly March on Washington, and that was the end of that fun.
In its 1979/1980 season, Saturday Night Live did s kit called the Bel Airabs.
They only did it twice. Here’s one of the episodes, yes, you really do wanna watch it, if only for the thene song and Gilda Radner playing Granny (but, be warned – if you don’t rigt click on the hyperlink and hit open in a new tab, you’re outta here.
I say bring back the Bel Airabs. As a reality series. Starring the prisoners of Gitmo.
Take the baddest asses of them
and turn them loose in LA. Bel Air, of course. Give them a mansion. Unlimited credit. Absolute impunity for everything save acts of violence. Let them act like Rasuptin at Mardi Gras.
Like the Marquis de Sade on Spring Break in Daytona.
Film every second of it. But Al Jazeera and bombard the Arab world with 24/7 live coverage.
But the second one of them starts mumbling about jihad this, or fatwa that, send the fucker back to Gitmo, and bring in a fresh recruit First stop is Hef’s mansion.
You sure you want 72 black-eyed virgins, Mustafa?. Do you seriously think a virgin can suck a golf ball through a garden hose?
Well, every girl here can
if you buy her a couple beers.
Before the first season is over every Islamist in the world will give themselves up and beg to be sent to Gitmo.