There are some people in the world that you’d like to square off against, not out of anger or malice, but out of respect and wonder. People you want to challenge because you respect who they are and what they can do and you know you won’t even defeat them, but there’s a certain thrill in simply sharing the arena with them – this is an article about that. I bear these people no ill-will, just the opposite. I respect and admire them and realize, if push came to shove, they’d kick my ass in a fight. But I’d still be willing to go toe to toe with them.
Odd choice? Maybe. Sam Elliot is a perennial cowboy and has quite a speaking voice. I feel like taking him on in a classic bar fight sort of brawl would be a liberating experience. Other people fighting around us, bottles flying willy nilly, maybe the odd chair over the back – it’d be a visceral, exciting environment in which to throw down on someone.
Sam Elliot seems like the kind of guy who’s carved from wood – he’s not huge or known as a brawler and he’s pretty old, but I bet he can hold his own and probably has a longer reach than me. I’d try and go for the body, old guys probably can’t handle a lot of work to the kidneys and ribs, but I get the feeling his fists are like stones and he’d mess me up pretty quickly, then have something somewhat wise to say afterwards.
You have to want to fight Mike Tyson if you have any desire to fight anyone. And maybe you don’t. Maybe Fight Club meant nothing to you, I don’t know. But if you do, Mike Tyson is pretty much the standard by which you’d measure yourself. Could you win, even now, against an older Tyson who’s not in peak form any longer? Oh God no. I’d be hospitalized, I’m sure. Maybe I’d even die. I’d prefer not to, but it’d still be something to spar with the man and throw a few haymakers his way before he launched me like a rocket towards my own ill-conceived doom.
I’m sure you could psycho analyze my curious attraction to women who could hurt me, but this is a comedy website and psychoanalysis is firmly rooted in bullshit, so keep it to yourself. Point is, there’s something alluring about a woman who is both attractive and physically capable of trouncing you like an old timey strongman at the circus.
April Hunter, who you may know from her career in wrestling, is not just a smoking hot red head and friend of the nerd circuit doing cons and whatnot in costume (she’s a superhero, no joke) she could totally, obviously break my arms. I like to picture it as a straight up “legit” wrestling match and my charm and wit overwhelms her and makes her angry such that she has to lash out and destroy me to prove a point of some kind. I only picture it that way because I’m sick. Probably the lead up would be very pleasant though, you’ve seen wrestling – lots of grappling and physical contact, that’s not bad. Not bad at all. I can’t decide if this is offensive or not.
Angela Salvagno is very similar to April Hunter in that she could probably murder me without needing to stand up. The difference here is that April is a fitness model and wrestler while Angela is a competitive bodybuilder. It’s subtle, the difference, but it’s there.
I like to think she could pick me up bench press style and hurl me from a window and then have a protein shake. Personally, I’d prefer another grappling sort of fight but in a very Conan style – like clashing with weapons dressed in loin cloths sort of a thing until she knocks me completely unconscious and then when I wake up we’re friends and we go on a quest together, maybe with Sharlto Copley as our comedic sidekick.
Clint Eastwood is the baddest bad ass of all time. Forget his current stint as kind of a weird old Republican and focus on his history on film. The Man with No Name, Dirty Harry, he was intense and awesome and always cool as shit. Back in the 90s when they were first spreading rumors of an X-Men movie, do you know who I picked as my Wolverine? Of course you do, because I’m talking about Clint Eastwood. You can look at him now and think “Wolverine? No way” but that’s because he’s like 80. Go back and look at some classic Eastwood and tell me not only would he not have been a perfect Wolverine, but that Wolverine wasn’t heavily based on Eastwood as well.
That said, I’d enjoy a 30’s style boxing match with Eastwood. We both have a drink, get in the ring bare knuckles style, no dancing and prancing, no bobbing and weaving, just two guys throwing punches until one falls down. I know Eastwood is great-grandfatherly at this point, but I bet he hits like a two by four. I’d be proud to have him knock a tooth loose.