A Mighty Broken Wind

(By special Mung Hour contributing writer, Double-S)


"Eleventeen beers ago and I still feel the same!"
Some of you may recognize this bewildered looking individual swathed in a Coleman tent. It is indeed former action icon Steven Seagal. Those not familiar with his 'work' since the mid-90's are probably wondering why anyone would claim this thirty year-old photo of the Reverend Jim Jones is actually a current image of the aforementioned Aikido whiz.

It is indeed the man who was once Hard to Kill while Under Seige. Clearly, while Out for Justice, he stopped at Carl's Jr. and the Cold Stone Ice Creamery. Once Marked for Death, he presumably became despondent and decided to keep a keg tapped in his basement at all times. The Fire Down Below was most certainly an unnecessary third or fourth chili dog.

A little over a year ago, me and a friend witnessed the girth first hand. During a surprisingly enjoyable albeit surreal Seagal concert, we witnessed what would've happened had Hop Sing cut the sleeves off of his shirt and transmorgified into Hoss Cartwright. Yes, that night, Sir Steve did not drape himself in the fine burlap pictured above, he ambled on stage in a fresh pair of Big & Tall Levi's and a Hop Sing wife-beater. There he was. A six and a half foot tall, three hundred pound jowl explosion with a furry Pittsburgh Steelers helmet hot glued to his scalp.

I kid not because I love, but because I paid $45 to watch the man riff on a guitar that cost more than the car I drove to see him in. I kid because I actually own a copy of Exit Wounds. I kid because Flight of Fury and Attack Force are in my Netflix cue. I kid because even though the man is clearly incapable of the martial arts maneuvers he once employed on Henry Silva, I will still offer up time and money to watch him wheez his lines and pretend a close up game of paddy cake for the camera is just as good as the opening scene of Above the Law.

So, rest easy Steve. Have another bite of cheese log, then wash it down with two or three pints of dark beer. The gravy train will not be stopping anytime soon, because there are thousands like me and we all have our noses pressed to the glass at Blockbuster waiting for Urban Justice to hit the shelves.