Been busy trying to lay new flooring (more on that in a later post) — so haven’t had time to write (or read) any posts, so I thought I’d make a quick post for proof of life.
Someone on Quora, the question and answer site, asked who would fistfight an angry Mike Tyson in his prime for 20 minutes for half of Bill Gates’s money. Now, I don’t typically answer silly hypotheticals. I’m more about history, etymology, animals, evolution, science, etc. But I had to take a crack at this one because I had a very brief encounter with the Baddest Man on the Planet.
No, it can’t be
I was hanging outside of my favorite watering hole, a neighborhood Irish pub called Casey Moore’s in Tempe, Arizona probably early 2000s and my buddy Clay Gibson comes back from the restroom and says Mike Tyson is inside. I was like no fucking way; there was a limo parked out front, which was unusual, but still, no way. I went in to investigate and nearly ran face-first into the troubled former champ. He was not tall but his shoulders seemed a mile wide and he had anaconda-like biceps.
Check out my latest non-Mike Tyson related chapter
Anyway, having seen his savage fights and having seen the untapped power in person, I wouldn’t take one punch from him, never mind 20 minutes of continuous ass beating because let’s be honest — it’s not going to be a fistfight (I’ve only been in one bar fight as an adult reluctantly trying to help a friend who was attacked — I managed to block a bunch of punches with my head and got a black eye). But, hypothetically, let’s say for a second I did take up the challenge (which, coincidentally is about how long the “fight” would last). After I (hopefully) emerge from my lengthy coma — presumably with brain damage — and get my billions, what is the point? How many coloring books do I really need to be drooling on at that point as I color outside the lines?
No, it was a silly hypothetical. Now, if the scenario called for me to run away from Mike Tyson for 20 minutes, I would take my chances (assuming I get to work on my cardio for two weeks).
P.S. I still I have no idea why Mike Tyson was in Casey Moore’s on an early midweek evening. It’s never been a celebrity hotspot. His limo driver was Heismaning a potential gold digger as I almost bumped into Iron Mike. Tyson emerged from the bar to leave a few minutes after I returned to my outside table. An acquaintance named Jan said she was going to ask for his autograph. I didn’t think it would end well but he was incredibly accommodating to her. The ex-boxer asked her if she had a kid that he could sign it for and she said yes. And then he left.