people say to me, whaddya want to be a boxer for? you could break your nose. you could get your face marked up.

look at this face. you think i’m worried about that?

it’s a dying sport, they say.

here’s the thing about that. you want to be the best at something? pick a sport where the competition is not so much.

then they say, it’s a man’s game.

oh, yeah? then how come i get paid for fighting other women?

truth to tell, though, i don’t mind getting hit. i got hit at home. i got used to it. meantime, i like to hit. it’s not the money, it’s the hitting. it’s like a drug.

the first time my boyfriend raised his hand to me? pow! right on the jaw. he didn’t resent it. he really didn’t resent it, if you know what i mean.

and the other thing, which i already mentioned. it’s a sport.


Photo prompt © J Hardy Carroll
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple


Super Bowl History

Super Bowl      Similar to                        Notes

III                      G. Washington                 Old fashioned.

VII                     A. Jackson                       Redskins lose.

XXII                   A. Lincoln                        1st black QB win (Williams).

XLIII                  F. Roosevelt                     Most wins (Steelers).

XLIX                  B. Obama                        Most worldwide fans.

IILII                    Donald Trump                 Brain damage.

Blind long snapper wants to become starting QB (CNN)

A Post for Anglers

If you love fishing like I do, then you’re well familiar with the long snapper, that redoubtable piscine gladiator who will fight you to the finish once hooked.

But perhaps you have never encountered the Mbisi version of this snapper (Lutjanus Bwanobu). Living in the dark rivers that flow through the limestone caverns beneath Mount Mbumibiawnabu, caverns carved out over the eons, the Mbisi snapper is the opposite of a fighter. It is easily frightened and once in that state, wants to be QB (EATEN) or LB (at least CHEWED) (emphasis theirs).

The Mbisi fishermen squat on the banks of those stygian courses underground and clap their hands loudly when they hear a passing snapper. The startled fish flops out of the water at their feet, ready to be taken home and fried in a pan.

The tribesmen charge only a modest fee to act as your guide in the caverns. The only difficulty you will encounter in hiring them is the thousand-mile journey on foot through steaming jungles rife with the tsetse fly and swarming QBQ (EAT YOU) short snappers in the swamps.