Kamala The Ugandan Giant (James Harris) 1950-2020

Kamala The Ugandan Giant (James Harris) 1950-2020

Wrestling has always been built on stereotypes. Anyone that looks vaguely eastern European could be booked as a menacing Russian. Asian wrestlers were often booked as karate stars or dressed like ninjas. Black wrestlers would run the gambit of stereotypes over the years, whether it be Bobo Brazil and Junkyard Dogs would play benign good guys, who had to play up their friendliness to get largely white crowds to let their guard down. Koko B Ware wore loud, colorful clothing to represent what Vince McMahon believed to be black MTV culture. On the other side of this was James Harris, who would fleeting and middling success following the good guy route, but would reach national fame playing an African savage to oppose some of the biggest stars of WWF’s golden era.

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Rank The Rock: A Look At The Films Of Dwayne Johnson

Rank The Rock: A Look At The Films Of Dwayne Johnson

When news broke this week that Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was going to be buying the XFL, I got excited. Not because I like, or even care, about that ridiculous league. Our site has spent way too much time and way too much talent talking about the second coming of the WWE’s failed attempt to break into the football business. No, my friends. I’m all on pins and needles because we finally get a chance to talk about Dwayne Johnson, the actor.

There is no doubt that The Rock is the most successful actor to come from wrestling and you could make the case that he has had the most successful post-wrestling career of all time. Sure, Jesse Ventura became governor, but that’s Minnesota, where there are more lakes than people. Johnson could become president. Hell, The Rock could be a pope if he wanted to.

But that’s not what I care about.

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How the NHL Playoff System Works… or Doesn’t

Life is complicated enough right now. COVID is nowhere near slowing down, mostly thanks to the minions who believe it’s a hoax. There are more than 150,000 people who would love to debate those residents of Idiocracy if they could but they can’t, as they died.

Now we have sports making a comeback… of sorts. In a quick breeze let’s rush through what’s up before we get into the nitty gritty dirt band of details for the NHL playoff system.

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Ghost In The Machine: a review of Taylor Swift’s “folklore”

Ghost In The Machine: a review of Taylor Swift’s “folklore”

Sitting in her log cabin and throwing another log on the fire (although it’s June), a quarantined Taylor Swift looks out her window and sees, chiseled in stone, the all too famous monument which is the Mount Rushmore of current pop music. Swift sees her own face, and why wouldn’t she? She smiles as she thinks about all of her amazing accomplishments. Sure, her fans would say she may not have as many Grammys as she should, but the proof is in the proverbial pudding: Taylor Swift sells records.

As she looks at the other faces carved into rock, Swift cannot help but think of her relationship with every member on the mount. Next to her is Beyoncé, the undeniable queen of this century. Yet, the relationship between Taylor and the true Child of Destiny has never been contentious; truly, game has recognized game. To Beyoncé’s right is Drake, a person who has had a similar career arc to Swift. Each dominated their original genre until pop music had no choice but to give them the respect they deserved. Next to Drake is an interesting situation, as construction crews are fervently dynamiting Kanye West’s face off this hallowed monument.

Taylor allows herself a brief smile before turning away from her window, heading to her music room where her piano and guitar sat, and began to get to work.

From these sessions, folklore was born.

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Baseball Is Destined To Screw This Up

Baseball Is Destined To Screw This Up

There seems to be a prerequisite in Major League Baseball, where the commisioner needs to be worse than the previous man in charge. Peter Ueberroth colluded with owners (notably White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf) to suppress the amount of money players could get in free agency. Bart Giammati died 154 days into his tenure (the William Henry Harrison of baseball). Fay Vincent let the owners lock out the players. Bud Selig made All Star games count (not in a good way), let noted skin flint Jeffrey Loria ruin baseball in Montreal, get paid for the honor, only to see him buy the Marlins and do it all over again. He also helped ruin baseball for years with the 1994 strike and then turned a blind eye to steroid abuse when the money started flowing again.

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EYE ON PLAINFIELD: GREG KINNEAR SPOTTED AT KROGER

EYE ON PLAINFIELD: GREG KINNEAR SPOTTED AT KROGER

It was a lazy July evening, one not without the typical musings and trappings of summers gone by. The fireflies were gesticulating their way to an early grave. The yearly rite of this year’s asphalt patches melting, then oozing down gravity’s rainbow. I had received a letter from a reader who wished to remain anonymous. She then slipped up and signed Agnes Cartwright at the bottom. The letter contained a vision she had been blessed with earlier in the week, shortly after elderly and compromised immunity shopping hours. The lady Cartwright believed she had seen star of stage and screen Greg Kinnear shopping for groceries. Central Indiana’s favorite investigative reporter was on the case.

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Gleeful Gravitas: Regis Philbin and the Last Great Game Show

Gleeful Gravitas: Regis Philbin and the Last Great Game Show

I don’t know how young the readership is for our site. Sometimes I slip into a realm of understanding that everyone alive has experienced the things that I have, and I could not be further from fact. Around the turn of the century, the late Regis Philbin was the hostof Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, a quiz show that was such a phenomenon that it seemed to permeate everyday life. In the year of our lord 1999, the only thing bigger than Millionaire was the impending apocalypse when the new year arrived. The reason the show was the cultural touchstone that it became was because of the stakes, the production of the show, and most of all, its charismatic host. We lost Regis, a true icon of Millennial adolescence, on Saturday at the age of 88.

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This Will Be Wrong, part IV: Postseason and Awards

This Will Be Wrong, part IV: Postseason and Awards

Every year, around late-March, I write up my postseason predictions for MLB on a legal pad and tape it to my cubicle wall. I did it this year, too. Then, well, you know. For like 8 years, I guessed that the Nationals would win it all, because frankly it made sense. Then I stopped doing that and believed too much in a Cubs resurgence. Then the Nationals won the Series. So lets just put as much value as possible into what I’m about to predict. If I’m right, I will spend the rest of my life angry that I didn’t put money on this result.

Play Ball

This Will Be Wrong, part III: The Western Divisions

This Will Be Wrong, part III: The Western Divisions

We have come to the end of the regular season predictions. Monday, I predicted the Easts. Yesterday, I went after the Centrals. If one thing is clear, its that these are for Houston and Los Angeles to lose. In a normal year, they should probably have their divisions wrapped up by mid-September. Much like the other four, these two will go into the last few games with titles and playoff spots on the line.

PLAY BALL

This Will Be Wrong, part II: The Central Divisions

This Will Be Wrong, part II: The Central Divisions

Yesterday, I started the pandemic season preview with the easiest divisions- the East. I feel very comfortable with those picks. As for today’s task, well, it won’t be as easy. Sure, I could pencil in the Twins and Cardinals and call it a day. But that’s boring. What about the old guard Cubs and Indians? Or the upstart Reds and White Sox? Or the pesky Brewers? There are other teams, I’m sure, because I have to predict ten. We’ll see who they are after the jump.

PLAY BALL