Azn Badger's Blog

What About the Lysine Contingency…?

Yet Another Shitty Book Cover


Maybe it’s just me, but this cover just gives me the giggles.

Something about the absurd juxtaposition of a black male model (admittedly, my own assumption) stomping down an alleyway brandishing a broadsword and donning a goddamn crown; just seems silly to me.

In many ways, the Chuck Taylor’s are kind of the icing on the cake in terms of the silly little details of this cover.

The really weird part about this cover, is the fact that, from a purely technical standpoint; it’s actually not all that bad.

The coloring and blending of the various elements is done well enough, largely banking off of the oh-so-infamous Michael Bay technique of “oranges and blues.”

The model’s pose is striking and suits the layout well enough.

Really, it’s the core premise of the African American, sword and revolver wielding “Street King” that ruins what, in many ways; could have been a surprisingly decent cover.

Let that be a lesson to all you potential authors:

DON’T WRITE STUPID SHIT.

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Klitschko vs. Haye Flopped. Literally.

*Sigh* Once again my blind optimism towards the sport of boxing has lead to my utter disappointment in a high-profile bout.

Klitschko vs. Haye was supposed to be a score-settler, a fight that would do wonders to improve the image and worth of the winner.

True, David Haye has been overrated since day 1.

True, Wladimir Klitschko is one of the most boring and methodical fighters in the sport.

At the end of the day though, my gut told me this fight could’ve been something special.

Little did I know, my gut is retarded; most likely as a result of me having exclusively dined on hot dogs for the first 10 years of my life.

Yup, there's the fat fuck...

Like the hot dog munching, and very much overweight kid I was though; I came into this fight with wide-eyed enthusiasm, hoping and praying that Santa would drop down my chimney, the troops would come home from Iraq/Afganistan/The Moon, and heavyweight boxing would live again.

Sadly, as the title of this post would indicate, this was not the case.

Klitschko jabbed the night away and basically did the same as always, but in my opinion, and the opinion of virtually anyone who saw this fight that isn’t from the UK; Haye was largely the culprit in creating the flop-fest that was Klitschko/Haye.

That’s right, I said “flop-fest.”

What do you get when you type "flop fest" into Google Images? Hipsters and Batman.

For those who may not know, a “flop” is a term used in sports to describe the act of overplaying a foul or injury for the purpose of gaining some sort of advantage, usually through falling to the ground in dramatic fashion; hence the term: “flop.”

In soccer, players will flop to penalize the other team and get them carded.

In basketball, flops are used to gain the referee’s attention for calling fouls.

... Or for calling attention to how unbelievably stupid one is.

In boxing, the closest thing to a flop, one usually sees is that of a fighter feigning serious injury from a headbutt or foul for the sake of catching a breather.

It’s underhanded, yes; but in most cases a feigned injury in boxing is usually derived from a legitimate, if not minor foul that is simply exaggerrated.

It’s very rare to see dramatic “flops” in boxing that come as a result of entirely false circumstances.

Such was the case with David Haye’s performance in yesterday’s fight.

At an imposing 6′ 6″ and 240 lbs, Wladimir Klitschko is widely known as a fighter that gets a lot of mileage out of leaning on and holding his opponents.

Pictured: Klitschko, winning a fight in his own special way...

Holding is technically an illegal tactic in the sport of boxing, however this doesn’t stop every fucking trainer on the planet from teaching their fighters to tie-up their opponents when injured or in close-quarters.

Given Klitschko’s rather extreme height and reach, it only makes sense that he would lean on his opponents or tie them up when they venture too close, as with a wingspan like his; it’s hard to imagine his in-fighting abilities would be all that great.

In knowing this about Klitschko’s tactics, my guess is that David Haye’s camp made the decision to employ a “clever” strategy to counter the leaning and holding.

Said brilliant strategy, in the fine tradition of soccer; saw Haye flopping to the mat at the slightest touch of Wladimir Klitschko’s forearms or shoulders.

I can’t blame him for trying, as the strategy largely served it’s purpose given that Klitschko ended up getting a point deducted at one point; but the fact of the matter is, David Haye absolutely sucks at flopping.

I’ve seen William Shatner take falls more convincingly than the shit Haye was pulling yesterday.

Seriously man, the big Brit flopped to the canvas with such frequency that my brother had to call bullshit, exclaiming that he’d seen WWF matches where guys spent less time on the mat.

To make matter worse, it was clear that Haye just wasn’t in the fight by about the halfway point, seemingly checking out both mentally and physically for the most part.

The man’s stamina has always been in question throughout his career, and had he not been knocked out as a result of being gassed in a previous fight; I’d say it was on no better display than it was yesterday.

I hate to judge a book by it’s cover, but I’ve always felt that David Haye’s heroic bodybuilder physique was always ill-suited for pro boxing.

Like the similarly buff and bulky (and overrated) Jeff Lacy, Haye always looked the part, however his form was constructed of far too much “glamour muscle” to support the tremendous stamina and flexibility requirements of pro boxing.

If you want any evidence as to the state of Haye’s stamina throughout the fight, just look to his corner between rounds, and indeed before the fight even started; and take a look a how much water he chokes down throughout.

The man must have drank 2 gallons of water, which in case you didn’t know; is a big, big no-no in boxing.

Haye landed a handful of pretty big shots in the fight, though they all came one at a time.

Klitschko was hurt maybe once in the fight, in the last round; and from what I could tell he recovered surprisingly quickly.

All in all, it was a boring night (afternoon?) at the fights, with the only real drama spawning from the looming possibility that either fighter could hurt the other at any point due to their shoddy chins.

I will say this though, the entrances for both fighter’s were some of the most elaborate I’ve ever seen, though it would’ve been nice if they had been better coordinated.

Kudos to George Foreman for spoiling Klitschko’s big reveal on live television.

Filed under: Boxing, Comics, Movies, Wrestling, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Azn Badger Eats EVERYTHING

The Azn Badger post-Ultimo Dinner, and pre-Giga Deuce...

Okay, I lied.

Maybe the Azn Badger didn’t eat EVERYTHING, but even so; he made a worthy effort…

Tonight doubled as both a family gathering, and an evening of copious consumption of eclectic eats.

Let it be known, impromptu family dinners should NEVER, repeat, NEVER, be preceded by a post-work meal, as such actions ultimately result in what is commonly known as a “food coma.”

Pictured: A child experiences his first food coma.

How I am able to type this post while under the nauseous effects of said state of being, the world may never know; but the point is, I ate a shit-ton of shit, and now you’re gonna’ read about it!

Let’s start off with my post-work “OH MY GOD I’M SO HUNGRY I COULD STRAIGHT-UP CUT A BITCH” menu:

Being as I am a simple man of simple tastes, my post-work meal consisted of a bowl of calrose rice, topped with smoked salmon, with a light dousing of mae ploy sauce, a sprinkle of my Dad’s custom BBQ rub, and a fuck-ton of black pepper.

FOOD OF THE GODS.

On the side, I had a freshly cut mango, and a little bit of watermelon.

That was Phase 1.

Phase 2 came when my brother and his girlfriend stopped by, ultimately causing my parents to flip into entertaining/feeding mode.

Phase 2, was where things got interesting.

Like, Gummo; interesting

Anyway, here’s the menu for Ultimo Dinner Phase 2:

Ball Park Hot Dogs, served 2 at a time on Costco sized buns.

Corn on the cob.

A Green Salad.

Watermelon and Cherries.

Baked Beans.

and Seared Ahi.

Where, and how the Seared Ahi goes together with everything else, I have no clue, but either way it was damn good.

Oh yeah, and there was also a hearty-as-fuck Cow dish of some sort, but between my brother, myself, and my Dad, that shit got demolished.

Oh yeah, and you how it wasn’t cooked?:

That’s right!  WELL DONE!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

*Ahem!* Anyway, I had a pretty hefty helping of pretty much everything, thereby ensuring the probability of a Giga-Deuce in my immediate future.

Good thing I just bought a bushel of comics to read, ’cause chances are I’ve got a long evening ahead of me in “the office.”

If this was my "office," I'd probably never leave.

That’s right, I used the word “bushel.”

What of it?

Anyway, I’m tired, and said Giga-Deuce is beginning to rear it’s ugly head, so I think I’ll cut things short and call it an evening.

Thanks for reading, feel free to share any goofy Ultimo Dinner Menus you’ve sampled over the years!

Filed under: Comics, Games, Uncategorized, Wrestling, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Azn Badger vs. The Giant Spider

You know who that fighter pilot on the right used to be before I shopped him? Clint Eastwood, the original spider killer.

Last night the Azn Badger had an epic life or death struggle with a giant fucking spider.

Clearly, yours truly was the victor, as I was able to type this whole up, but I tell yah’, things got pretty hairy there for awhile.

Let it be known, the Azn Badger has an intense hatred for, and fear of spiders.

Anyway, here’s how it went down:

So it was around 1 AM, and I was lounging around watchin’ Dante’s Peak on Encore.

I was just about to pass out around that time, but I told myself I was gonna’ stay up long enough to see the part where Pierce Brosnan tells Linda Hamilton:

"It's okay, it's got a snorkel."

I love that scene.  Puts a smile on my face every time.

*Cough!* ANYWAY, right after that, I turned off the TV and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Everything went smoothly, I mean I splashed my shirt an’ all, and I almost dropped my cup, and I bumped my knee on the counter…

Okay maybe it didn’t go all that smoothly, but the point is, I got my water and was about to head off to bed when out of nowhere my literal spider-sense went off, and I spied a massive shadow hiding under the vacuum closet door!

I tell yah’, I about shit myself right then and there.

This fucker was massive, really you don’t even know.

Seriously, he was the really savage kind of big, the kind of big where you can clearly make out all of their individual body parts.

He was a muddy dark brown, with menacing pair of mandibles hanging down from his ugly fuckin’ head.

I guess mandibles are like the sports cars of the Animal Kingdom. COMPENSATION.

While his body wasn’t ‘roided out like a tarantula or some shit, in fact he was kind of scrawny in his midsection, he had a thick-ass set of legs that absolutely screamed:

“This fucker can move.”

Legs an’ all, he was a little big bigger than my palm, finger webbing included.

Kinda' hard to see, but it's true, it's true...

What?

The Azn Badger has webbed fingers.

Big fuckin’ deal.

At least I’m not ugly like you.

ANYWAY, being the cerebral and cool-headed individual that I am, I caught myself, clenching my fists, hiking up my shoulders and saying to myself, aloud:

“That’s a big spider.”

You remember that one scene at the beginning of Die Hard where the dude on the plane tells Bruce Willis to make fists with his toes to calm his fear of flying?

Well, being as I was standing there in the kitchen, paralyzed with fear, my mind didn’t consciously shift to “What would John McClane do?” mode, but for whatever reason I found myself curling my toes to hide them from the advance of the, very likely; lightning quick 8-legged death machine standing before me.

My fears proved to be unfounded though, as Spider-Douche hadn’t so much as twitched in the half-minute or so that I had been staring at him.

I fuckin’ hate that about spiders.

They’re quick as fuck, and supposedly some of the most efficient predators alive, but when it comes to dealing with us people, (and badgers) they’re just plain retarded.

Seriously, you chase them into a corner, and instead of, you know; climbing the wall like a smart person, for whatever reason they charge straight at you like they’re the fuckin’ Juggernaut or some shit.

I don’t know, maybe they know we’re afraid of them or something.

Maybe they’re counting on us to recoil in terror and let them pass.

Maybe they aren’t aware that Kleenex and tissues were invented long ago, specifically to allow us the means to meet them in single combat.

Speaking of tissue, that’s exactly where my mind went after about a solid minute of pacing back and forth muttering to myself:

THAT’S a big spider.  That’s a BIG spider…”

Finding no tissue within reach, I decided to bust out the big guns and grab a handful of paper towels, about 4 of them to be exact.

There was no way I was gonna’ let that fucker get one of his hairy brown legs on me, post-mortem or otherwise.

With spider kryptonite in hand, I set out to do battle with the vile beast of 8-legged death.

Then it hit me.

“Remember Badger, this fucker can move.  Ain’t no way you’re gonna’ get inside on him by charging straight in.  You need a plan.”

THIS is what happens when you don't have a plan.

With that, my mind dug through it’s recesses in search of tools or strategies I could play to my advantage over this monster.

REACH,” I thought.

With only 2 steps to go before certain doom, I bid a hasty retreat, praying to God that the beast hadn’t caught on to my gambit.

With my eyes glued to the still immobile God of death, I Scooby-Doo walked back over to the sink and grabbed hold of a dish rag.

A bead of sweat formed on brow, as doubt began to settle in.

“What if I miss?  I’m not a very good shot…”

The 8-legged beast from beyond twitched in response, no doubt sensing the incoming attack.

All thoughts and reservations left my mind as my instincts took over, and with a great “HWAH!” I side-armed the divine dish rag straight into the beast’s grotesquely mandibled face, pinning him to the corner in the process.

Like following up a lead jab with a right hand, I followed the rag in for the kill.

No sooner had the rag hit it’s mark, I was on top of that spider fuck like white on rice.

Doing a modified baseball slide on the kitchen laminate, I splayed out on my side and rammed a right cross into the rag for each and every one of the great beasts 8 legs of death.

After taking a deep breath, I slowly righted myself and extricated the rag from the corner.

The deed had been done, the beast vanquished and sent back to the hell it crawled out from.

No song, nor fanfare would arise from my great victory that evening, but it felt good to know that my parent’s and I could rest without fear of the 8-legged terror mauling us in our sleep

As I marched off the battlefield, and to a very well earned rest, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Yoda’s words from Star Wars Episode I:

"Always two there are. No more, no less."

Deep in my mind, I knew this to be true among the spider clan as well.

Only time will tell if the spider I defeated that evening was the apprentice, or the master…

So, what did we learn today kids?

Let’s review:

The Azn Badger is afraid of spiders.

He’s clumsy.

He has webbed fingers.

His mind jumps to movie references to get him through crisis situations.

And he can’t throw worth shit.

So, you still sure you wanna’ keep reading this blog?

That’s what I thought.

Filed under: Boxing, Movies, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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