Azn Badger's Blog

What About the Lysine Contingency…?

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.

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The Top 10 Manliest Man Moments #7: The Poe-Dozer

Welcome back folks, to the Azn Badger’s list of the Top 10 Manliest Man Moments!

So far we’ve covered the head-exploding exploits of Kenshiro from Fist of the North Star, the unbridled savagery of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s John Matrix in Commando, and the sporadic and unfocused heroism of Han Solo.

Indeed, with every entry on this list we’ve explored a number of different forms of MANLINESS, and today will be no exception.

Today, as we name the 7th MANLIEST MAN moment in movie history, we enter the 7th circle of MAN-DOM:

Make no mistake, Con Air is a horribly disjointed mess of a movie.

Despite having an all-star cast, Con Air isn’t action-y enough to be an action movie, nor prison-y enough to be a prison movie; resulting in a film that has no fuckin’ clue what it wants to do with itself.

In falling flat on it’s face trying to embody the genres listed above, Con Air falls back on what many Jerry Bruckheimer financed blockbusters attempt to do, namely be “funny.”

Normally this would be acceptable, (and if Michael Bay’s in charge, very likely racist) however in this case most of the funny lines are delivered by DEATH ROW INMATES, making the humor just a little bit morally questionable.

Haha! Serial killers are HILARIOUS!

Despite all of Con Air’s failings, to it’s credit; it remains a very watchable piece of mid-90’s garbage.

One thing the movie did do right though, was give us the awesomeness that is Nic Cage’s Cameron Poe.

Cameron Poe, feeeeeeeels so good....

A quiet Southern gentleman who just happens to be an Army Ranger, Cameron Poe also happens to be mullet-ed and blue jean-ed DEATH on 2 legs.

Case in point, Poe is known to be SO FUCKING SAVAGE that in defending his PREGNANT WIFE against 3 drunken yahoos, 1 of whom is armed with a knife; Poe ends up getting sent to prison for manslaughter.

Seriously man, the guy is SO FUCKING SAVAGE that in killing an armed man in self-defense, he gets sent to prison for 8 years on the grounds that he “should’ve known better,” being as he’s a FUCKING KILLING MACHINE.

Anyway, despite Poe’s infinite awesomeness, Con Air as a movie doesn’t exactly afford him all that many opportunities to be badass.

There’s that one time he rescues a stuffed bunny through “presenting rearward” to a more than a little surprised Nick Chinlund while over-the-top rock music blared in the background:

Somebody just lost their cherry. Not sure who...

Then there was that one time he Chuck Norris-ed the shit out of some Mexicans to the sounds of over-the-top rock music:

The MANLIEST of MANLY maneuvers: The Roundhouse Kick!

And I guess there was that one time he prevented the rape of that one lady from Total Recall by beating the shit out of “The Man Who Always Dies In Movies,” Danny Trejo; also set to over-the-top rock music:

In other words, Cameron Poe; as awesome as he is, seems dependent on the presence of over-the-top stylings of Trevor Rabin’s orchestral synth-rock music in order to get his swagger on and kill the fuck out of, well; apparently mostly just Mexicans.

Cameron Poe’s not racist, there just happen to be a lot of Hispanic bad guys that wander into his path in Con Air.

At least I hope that’s the case…

Thankfully, Cameron Poe’s MANLIEST of MAN moments, and our 7th MANLIEST MAN moment in all of movies; involves no violence directed at Hispanics, but rather  plain ‘ole white guys, which of course makes it all the more PC!:

So here’s the basic setup:

An impeccably dressed John Cusack and that one Irish guy from Star Trek have finally caught up to the Jail Bird, the plane carrying all of the escaped convicts AKA the bad guys.

Chasing after the plane in pair of attack helicopters, the Irish guy orders his pilot to shoot it down; while John Cusack’s Vince Larkin does what he can to protect the government’s property I.E. both the plane and CAMERON FUCKING POE by screaming “CEASE FIRE!” into the ear of the pilot in the front seat.

Dial it down Cusack! The check cleared...

Long story short, some shots are fired, but not enough to knock the plane out of the sky.

During all of this however, Nic Cage’s Cameron Poe is in the process of HULKING OUT over his diabetic friend Baby-O, played by Bubba from Forrest Gump; having just been shot in the gut by John Malkovich’s unitentionally hilarious Cyrus the Virus.

Nearly brought to MANLY tears at the sight of his friends lying on the ground dieing and rapidly losing his faith, Poe does what any self-respecting MAN would do and casually DECLARES HIMSELF GOD and sets out on his way to kill a bunch of people:

Thus begins the awesomeness of MANLY moment #7.

Standing up from tending to his fallen friend, The Poe’s trademark over-the-top rock music starts blaring, and shit gets real, really fuckin’ fast!

Stomping down the aisle of the Jail Bird on a bee line for the cockpit, Poe throws on his MANLIEST of MAN-FACES and ascends to his ULTIMATE level of MAN-SAVAGERY:

Despite the massive aura of MANLINESS radiating from him during all of this, a couple of the bad guys foolishly step up to challenge The Poe-Dozer.

First up is a big-ass blonde, shirtless douchbag with a broken bottle that uses what little time he has left on this Earth to shout a retarded and borderline incoherent threat at The Poe-Dozer:

Just 'cause you've only got a tenth second to issue a threat, doesn't mean you shouldn't try.

As one might expect, size advantage or not; going toe-to-toe with The Poe when he’s in full-on Poe-Dozer Mode get’s this poor shmuck beat to shit something fierce.

Quick as you can say “1, 2, 3” The Poe-Dozer brings it’s blade to bear and claims it’s first victim:

Wham, bam, thank you ma'am...

Not skipping a beat, The Poe-Dozer continues his march of MANLINESS, letting out an obscenely MANLY “HUUOOOAAAH!!!!!” as he steps over the fallen blonde douchebag.

Unfortunately, another bad guy pops up in The Poe’s way; this time armed with a handgun.

Having seen his partner utterly steamrolled by the fury of The Poe-Dozer, the baddie wastes no time lifting his pistol and opening fire.

Bad Guy used Bullet Seed! It's not very effective...

Unbeknownst to this particular bad guy though, The Poe-Dozer is immune to gunfire, thusly causing the otherwise debilitating injury of a bullet to the bicep to seem like little more than a minor annoyance.

… A minor annoyance that serves to ANGER the already POSITIVELY FUMING Poe-Dozer.

That being said, it should come as no surprise, least of all to the bad guy standing before him; that The Poe-Dozer goes to town on this sad sack of fuck with a motherfuckin’ vengeance.

… But not before we cut to a shot of the guy having a moment as he reflects on the error of his ways:

Utterly frozen in disbelief at the sight of The Poe-Dozer’s unflinching reaction to the gunshot wound, the convict finds himself unable to pull the trigger a second time.

His fate sealed, the bad guy quickly succumbs to the unrelenting fury of The Poe-Dozer; falling by the wayside after 3 consecutive straight right hands to the jaw.

... And here comes #3.

At this point the music has already begun to calm down, thereby stripping The Poe-Dozer of his inhuman strength and vengeance fueled MAN-RAGE.

Fortunately, the previous 2 bad guys made up the bulk of The Poe’s resistance in reaching the cockpit, with the last obstacle remaining in his way (besides the fucking door) being the effeminate cross-dressing convict, “Sally Can’t Dance.”

Behold, the dreaded final boss of the "March to the Cockpit" stage in Con Air: The Videogame!

Reverting from his uber-violent Poe-Dozer Mode to the more socially acceptable Southern Gentleman Mode, The Poe sees fit to dispatch “Sally Can’t Dance” in a manner that is fitting, namely that of laying the smack down with an open palm:

Huh, ‘guess I lied about the “no violence towards Hispanics” in this scene.

Oh well.

Technically there’s more to it, but in my eyes this moment marks the conclusion of the 7th MANLIEST MAN moment in movies.

Check back tomorrow for MANLY moment #6 on our list of the Top 10 Manliest Man Moments!

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I Hate Sting.

I hate Sting.

I hate his goofy singing, I hate his perpetually frosted hair, but most of all, I simply hate the man that is Sting.

Wrong Sting. Although he kind of sucked too. Especially after he took on that whole "Crow" schtick...

You know how every now and again you run across someone you just plain don’t like, seemingly for no good reason?

Okay, maybe you haven’t, but you know what I mean, right?

Well, that about sums up my relationship with Sting in a nutshell.

He never stole from me, he didn’t kill my father; and he most certainly never touched me as a child, but for whatever reason, I’ve had a severe hatred for Sting for as long as I can remember.

Near as  I can recall, the first time I encountered Sting in my youth, came in the form of a TV broadcast of one of his performances.

I want to say that it was a stage performance from one of his appearances on Saturday Night Live sometime in the 90’s, but either way; my first impression of the man was to think:

“What the hell is he wearing?…”

While I can’t find any photos of it, the man was dressed in a massive leather jacket, easily 2 sizes too big for him, while straddling a guitar and clomping around in 3-5 inch platform boots.

Pictured: The first time I ever saw Sting...

I don’t recall what songs he performed that night, nor did his singing voice leave an impression on me at the time.

Honestly, I think I was simply too blown away by the sheer volume of fail put on display that night to have remembered anything else.

All I remember of Sting from that night, is that big-ass jacket, those Frankenstein boots of his, and his odd quirk of violating his fellow performer’s personal bubble just a little too much.

... And if that wasn't bad enough, he also has a tendency to bust out flying knees to the faces of his fellow performers.

Seriously, the man has a tendency to rub up on people.

As my father would say: “He wouldn’t make it in the Projects…”

Anyway, after only dealing with Sting once in my life up to that point, the man was already 0-1, and officially on my “Naughty” list.

That was just the beginning though.

Sometime after this initial encounter, I remember hearing some of Sting’s songs on the radio.

I had to ask my mother who it was we were listening to, and when she told me it was Sting, I can honestly say I was not surprised.

Sting has a peculiar method of singing.

I like to refer to it as a “pecking” style of lyricism.

 

Like this man's speech cadence, only applied to song.

The lyrics in his songs, especially the more pop-ish tunes from earlier in his career; tend to have a halting rhythm to them that I find annoying.

It’s like trying to listen to streamed audio that’s still buffering.

Sure, you’re definitely listening to something, but it’s so fuckin’ fragmented and disjointed that it may as well be a song recorded by someone with Tourette’s Syndrome.

Honestly, while it pains me to taint this blog with a Family Guy reference, I have to say that they did a damn good job of summing up Sting’s singing style in my eyes:

Just remember, I hated the man long before Family Guy was ever thought of.

By the way, if you ever run into me on the street someday, ask me to do my Sting impression; I’m told it’s pretty spot on.

Moving on, reason #347 as to why I hate Sting, comes from his appearance in the film Dune.

*Yawn*...

Admittedly, this was a fairly recent addition to the “why I hate Sting” list, easily within the past 6-7 years.

When I first noticed that Sting was in Dune, my initial reaction was along the lines of:

“WHAT!?  The “Zip-Zop-Zoop! MESSAGE… IN A… BAAAAAHHHH-TOLL!” Man is in Dune!?  I hope he dies in it…”

Though I got my wish of getting to see Sting die on-screen at the end of Dune, (Oops! Spoiler Alert!) the 3 hour journey in getting to that point was not easy to sit through.

Pictured: The best part of Dune. To me, anyway...

Yes that’s right, I didn’t really exactly care all that much for Dune, but that’s besides the point.

The point is, while sitting through a 3 hour movie I didn’t “get,” and also didn’t exactly like; I found myself not only having to contend with a clunky script and an absurdly over-the-top soundtrack, but with a flame-haired and frequently Speedo clad Sting.

3 hours of shitty movie I can handle standing on my head, but 3 minutes of Sting in his undies being ogled by a levitating overweight, oily pock-faced dude, was another story altogether.

I think Sting’s worst moment in the whole movie, other than the poorly choreographed and horrendously anti-climactic “knife fight” at the end, (Sorry again! Spoiler Alert!) was this one scene where Sting is handling what I call, a “kitty in a box.”

Best I could find. Sorry...

As fate would have it, the internet Gods seem to have eliminated all the good photos of the elusive “kitty in box” scene, as well as that giant-fucking leather jacket I mentioned earlier.

Sting must have a network of internet goons cleansing the web of all traces of his uncoolness…

Anyway, if you saw Dune; you probably know what I’m talking about, ’cause y’know; that was of course the most pivotal scene in the entire movie…

In addition to all of the reasons listed above, probably the single biggest reason I hate Sting, is that he’s one smug son of a bitch.

Sting on any given Tuesday.

Seriously man, he’s just got this swagger, this preening and self-important element to his face and mannerisms.

Maybe it’s just ’cause he’s a singer/performer, and that’s kind of what they do; but in his case, he does it in just the wrong way that it, well; it just pisses me off!

Sting: Knee-Fucking Since... Whenever The Fuck He Started Singing.

Don’t question my hate, it needs not logic or reason to exist!

Anyway, enough Sting related hate-speak for tonight.

Tomorrow I’ll be finally playing more Demon’s Souls, so I figured I’d vent my frustration somehow before assaulting myself with more videogame related anger and stress.

 

 

Man I hate Sting…

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