Fun With Disrespect

Fun With Disrespect

-Sept. 18th, 2008 by Scott Urmson

I'm fairly sure I can kick Clint Eastwood's ass. Let me explain. This is a little exercise in thinking and being in the moment. These exercises afford you such opportunities as this one. Here, I can have a bit of jovial fun being disrespectful and cocky in ways that normally, I'd have no business doing.

I'm not even close to six feet tall and if I took up boxing today, I could barely squeeze my way into the lightweight category. Yet, I just had the audacity to claim that I could kick Clint Eastwood's ass and kick it hard. Why? I can, because he's like eighty. Can you crush an eighty year old? Probably.

The beauty of this arguement is that standard rebuttals won't work. Remember that we're living in this moment. Yes, I'm sure back in the day he would have asked me to make his day if he heard such a statement and not without calling me a punk, either. Now though, all he wants to do is make war movies. He's not Dirty Harry anymore. I'm sure the only nickname he's referred to these days is, "dirty hairy asshole and smelly balls guy" by the retirement home staff.

There is a caveat, however. It is possible that he has Buzz Aldrin syndrome. When directly accused of faking the moon landing, Buzz—who was 72 at the time—corrected the man with a landing of his own: striking the man hard enough to shatter his mind's grasp of consciousness and momentarily casting him spiraling out of physical reality. Clint may very well possess this power; I don't know. I don't have a subscription to 'Clint Weekly'. Ironically however, I do have a subscription to 'Dirty Hairy Weekly'. My point is that I'd give myself at least 2:1 odds.

Perhaps this isn't working out as it should. Let's take a different approach. John Wayne is considered one of the greatest badasses of all time. That, of course is "of all time", not necessarily now. Now, I would smash him. I would grind his bones, pulverizing him into sawdust. I can if I wanted to. All I have to do is find them.

Andre The Giant? Seven-and-a-half feet tall, five-hundred pounds and you know what? Today, I could smoke that fool! No really, he's dust under my feet. I could literally collect him in a "congratulations, it's a boy!" and smoke that fool.

This method of self-perception doesn't work with everyone, though. For example, this wouldn't work with say, Kimbo Slice. He's still in his prime and could make the left side of my face look like a pudgy, veiny pile of sausages. In fact, I'd like to take this opportunity to wish Kimbo and all of his loved ones the sincerest of holiday wishes for this and every year to come. Until he's like, 80; then we'll see what's up. Of course, on second thought, I'd be around my 70's. Scratch all that. We love you, Kimbo.