Is This the Worst Picture of All Time?

You will never in a million years believe what I’m about to write, after viewing this Tijuana coat-hanger abortion of a picture: This guy used to RUN SHIT.  I’m talking “The Natural”.  This cat walks onto a Top-40 rap dance floor and dudes are running for cover and bitches have smoke coming out of their ears, circa 1999-2007.  His legend spanned multiple states and across generations.  He never tested positive for a single PED.  We’re talking first-ballot, unanimous Playazzz Hall of Famer.  In 2004 he could have walked into any cheesy dance bar in Ohio, screamed “King Kong ain’t got nothin’ on me!”, and the sea of bodies would have parted to allow him to take his rightful place at the head of the table for Biggie Smalls “Big Poppa”.  And now he’s come to this lowly, pitiful point.  I couldn’t look this happy about that strawberry coming at my mouth if you paid me 1 million dollars.  Major difference here being that he paid money to be in this disaster.  It would be like Kevin Costner paying $5MM to star in Water World.  But this is what happens when you are a man and you lose Stonewall Jackson to gangrene because one of your own drunk hillbilly soldiers mistakes him for a runaway white slave dressed in a Confederate generals uniform, and shoots him….the defenses are weak and love breaks through the line and circles around, trapping your soldiers in a helpless crossfire, and they are offering no mercy.  Do not kid yourself in any way, this photo is an absolute bloodbath.  He is Hiroshima and she is the Enola Gay.  She is the ’85 Bears and he is the Patriots.  This is the United States obliterating Iraq with “Shock and Awe” as their army makes no attempt to defend themselves.  His corner threw in the white towel, and she kicked it right back at them and kept throwing uppercuts.  She is goose-stepping into his Paris under the Nazi flag and singing the Horst Wessel Song from the fucking mountain tops.  Offering no compromise, obviously.  Only unconditional surrender to her will.  You eat this fucking strawberry I feed you, you will smile widely like a mental patient whilst I feed it to you, and you will not utter one fucking peep as I put this on the goddamned World Wide Web for all to see.  She put this on the wedding website, and he couldn’t even muster the courage to call us all and warn us this was about to happen, and offer apologies and excuses in advance.  Just tried to go about his business at the wedding and do shots and dance and pretend like we all somehow un-saw it in the interim.  This crushing defeat cast a pall over the entire event.  It was a dead man walkin’ on a green mile.  Michael Bolton saw this picture, spit his white wine spritzer all over the computer screen and yelled, “What a fucking pussy!”  Listen, every great one experiences a decline in their skills, and must ultimately retire.  It’s how you go out which defines your legacy.  This is the anti-Jim Brown.  This is the polar opposite of Ted Williams hitting a home run in his final at bat.  This is Brett Favre’s 7th unretirement.  This is an overweight Michael Jordan getting double crossed over by Allen Iverson.  Adrian is fucking screaming at Rocky to throw in the towel as Drago is about to deliver the death blow to Apollo, and Balboa is just sitting there catatonic.  A thousand years from now an anthropologist will unearth this image from the rubble that was Al Gore’s Internet.  The scientists and the scholars will study it.  And they will write in their history books, “Their society was primitive.  They used ancient communication devices called computers (cum-pew-turz).  There was a great war.  When the female tribe had vanquished the male tribe, their ruler lorded over the defeated king and she forced him to eat fruit from her hand.  This was how the ancients showed submission to their superiors.  Much like a dog rolls onto it’s back and shows it’s genitals.”  Sure, take this photo now, and you’ll live.  At least a while.  And dying in your bed, many years from now, would you be willing to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell her that she may take your life, but she’ll never take…YOUR FREEDOM!!!  

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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2 Responses to Is This the Worst Picture of All Time?

  1. MIKEDECOSKY says:


  2. Anonymous says:

    This is it, your Waterloo, your Apollo 11, the discovery of the holy grail. Nothing you write from this day forward can top this post. Walk off with a middle finger flying, a “fuck you” to those who would care, because you sir have won all that is the Internet with this transcript. May Crom bless your soul.

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