I’ve watched “Harry and The Hendersons” twice this week. Also, hey, how’s it going?
I realize that admitting that out loud basically amounts to giving the “all clear” sign to the SWAT team surrounding my house to kick down the door and haul me off to psycho prison, but before that happens I have some thoughts. Harry was at the vanguard of the late 80’s “shitty family adopts a giant ape who teaches them how to love again” movie genre, yet rarely gets the credit he deserves. It is the opinion of this drunk humble writer, that the movie itself is a modern work of art. It’s funny, violent as hell, sucks total shit, is borderline unwatchable and I truly believe it should be in the Criterion Collection. Which leads me to my next point.
It’s somewhat alarming to me that the entire planet shutting down due to a global pandemic has not altered my life’s routine one bit. I mean, I have to sneak into my gym through that heating duct on the roof but I was doing that anyway. Beyond that, my life is either the exact same or better. Even in the best of times my hobbies include — and are almost exclusively limited to — drugs, hockey, boxing, and sleeping, and to be honest, I could take or leave the last three. I guess what I’m saying is that I was sheltering in place long before you posers ever even heard of it, which is why I’m so great at it. Truly one of the best.
Also, and this is maybe something I should ask my doctor about, but does anyone know if you can develop scurvy on dry land? I guess I thought all the meat was gonna go bad so I ate nothing but the flesh of other mammals for about two weeks straight and now my entire body is covered in open sores and my hair looks like Lou Duva’s pubes. Maybe we can circle back to this later if there’s time. For now, we’ve got another expeditious ass-kicking to watch.
The third entry in our series that some are calling “the spiritual highlight of the modern plague” is from Nov. 4, 2005, and features Allan Green vaporizing Jaidon Codrington in front of his hometown fans, which is hands down the best place to almost murder someone.
WARNING: The end of this video is somewhat graphic if you have anything resembling human emotions. This obviously doesn’t include the majority of you but if for any reason you don’t want to see a lifeless human body get flipped around and prodded like a bag of lawn mulch, I would stop watching after the final bell. Or maybe just don’t watch boxing altogether. Yeah, definitely the second one.
Codrington was an undefeated up-and-comer who, along with fellow New Yorker, Curtis Stevens, were known as the “Chin Checkers.” Not bad as far as nicknames go but it would serve as schadenfreude bait when both guys inevitably got their aforementioned chins checked.
Green was seen as the far more experienced guy and he set out to welcome Codrington to the world outside of padded records in the only way he knew how: with a not-so-medically-induced coma.
As the bell rings, the two exchange a couple of soft jabs as Green backs Codrington into the ropes. Green lands a left hook grenade that buckles Codrington’s knees, and from there on out it’s just pure, peek-through-your-fingers, capital V Violence.
When people call for boxing to be banned, this is what they’re talking about. A series of roughly one billion punches lands on the less experienced Codrington, and then BOOM. Yard sale. A left hook nearly decapitates Codrington and he slinks over the bottom rope as the lights go completely out.
It’s a practically inhumane display of barbarism and it all takes place inside of 18 seconds. I’ve had farts that lasted longer than that. Incredible.
Codrington would lay motionless on the canvas for over three minutes as his corner, the ref, the ringside doctor, and the crowd all had a four-way contest to see who could make the situation worse.
They rolled him from side to side without stabilizing his neck and poked at his face like the aliens at the end of “Fire in the Sky.” The rumor afterward was that Codrington suffered a cracked vertebra, but that was later downgraded to just a fucked up back. It was an egregious display of medical neglect but, much like the time I got diarrhea in a white tuxedo, it probably should’ve ended much worse.
Green would go on to have a very respectable, B plus career. An operation to have 85% of his butthole removed would momentarily slow him down but of his six career losses that followed, four were to elite level fighters and two were at the very end.
Codrington, on the other hand, never really moved past this fight. He would continue on for another seven years or so but to little fanfare.
In his defense, it’s hard to gain traction in this sport when your sole claim to fame is the guy with no butthole turning you into a ghost in the span of one Agoraphobic Nosebleed song.
(Photo by J.D. Crenshaw/Showtime)
