43, 34, big difference
Today is my 43rd birthday. I just celebrated with a massage to help quell my early hangover (the celebration started last night).
Today is also the anniversary of the death of Basquiat, the birthdays of George Hamilton and Terry “Red Rooster” Taylor and a day before Hulk Hogan‘s birthday. It’s also the birthday of my old friend and (retired) greatest hair stylist in the world, Rosa Aguiar. And the birthday of one Mr Jon Donald.
Jon Donald was a special soul. Sadly, he died of an illness more than a decade ago. One day I will take the time to write a complete post about Mr Donald, whose mysterious weirdness was nonetheless just icing for the complex and fascinating character that lay beneath. Trust me, his is a story worthy of a few minutes of your time. Every year on our shared birthday, I have a solitary drink in his name. Do not rest in peace, Mr Donald; rather, continue your weird and wacky adventures in whatever dimension you now reside.
On a completely different note, this past weekend was UFC 117, which frankly left me gobsmacked. As my MMA hero Anderson Silva entered the ring, I immediately emailed a friend, “Uh oh, he doesn’t look good. Shit.” Sure enough, Silva received the beatdown of his life, but pulled off a miraculous out-of-nowehere submission in the final minutes of the final round to retain his middleweight championship. Holy shit indeed.
Suddenly I’m reminded of UFC 116, which featured on the undercard a Stephan Bonnar fight. I was never a big Bonnar fan… until he also pulled off a miraculous last minute victory by mercilessly pummeling his opponent in the final seconds of the final round, to win via stoppage. But the best part of Bonnar’s victory was the martial pose he gave the camera afterwards. It was something in between a traditional kung fu greeting and a tough guy stance from the video game “Streetfighter”. Here’s an animated GIF of the pose: