Right-wingers are apoplectic over Nike’s new ad campaign featuring ex-49ers quarterback and NFL persona-non-gratis Colin Kaepernick. So incensed are they over the appearance of the traitorous Kaepernick in the new “Just Do it” campaign that they are actually burning their sneakers and other Nike gear.
Presumably these patriots are burning their shoes because they don’t own any books.
Of course, “Bone-Spurs” Trump – always looking for a distraction from his horrorshow presidency – jumped on what he claimed to be damage to Nike from boycotts. That sounds more like hope than fact, given that the campaign was only announced a few days ago and will not officially commence for a couple weeks. And Nike has the contract to supply uniforms to the NFL for the next eight years, so the bonds are strong in football-land.
In any event, it’s always rich to watch Trump thump his medal-less chest in support of a military he worked so hard to stay out of.
More bizarre is how Kaepernick’s silent protests against police brutality got re-imagined as disrespect for the military. His beef isn’t with the military. Even if it was, how come Kaepernick is seen as treasonous when Muhammad Ali who refused duty is venerated for his convictions? Maybe it’s the ‘fro?
To the feckless NFL owners who panicked at the prospect of lowered viewership and revenue contraction the spectacle of Kaepernick and many other players kneeling during the playing of the national anthem was too much to bear. Having no balls to either suck up the status quo or stop playing the anthem while the players are on the field, the owners have patched together a listless array of rules and penalties that will surely exacerbate the situation.
And somehow this is Kaepernick’s fault.
RIP Burt Reynolds
We at Major Terata are unsure whether in 2018 women find men with wall-to-wall carpeting on their bodies to be sexy or kinda gross. But when Burt Reynolds peeled it off for Cosmopolitan it attracted nationwide attention – finally, liberated women could drool over a centerfold just like men had been doing since the 1950s.
Burt started in TV all the way back in 1958 and played roles in such fine art as Branded, Flipper, Perry Mason, Route 66 and, of course, Love American Style.
He graduated into a role of a lifetime playing the rough-hewn canoeist-cum-archer in Deliverance, but soon became typecast as the womanizing wild man once he took on the starring role in 1977’s chase-a-thon Smokey and the Bandit. From there Burt essentially played the same guy in Semi-Tough, Cannonball Run I & II, Stroker Ace, and Gator. Looking back at the idiocy of the Cannonball Run oeuvre, it’s hard not to think Burt was fucking Dom DeLuise in the trailer between takes.
Eventually Burt went back to doing television and appearing as other characters in remakes of his old shit, including The Longest Yard where he played a coach and The Dukes of Hazzard (essentially Smokey and the Bandit) where he donned a white suit to play Boss Hogg.
But as sometimes happens in this business, an aging Burt was cast into some choice parts and handled them with the kind of aplomb that comes from being in front of a camera for a half century. His performances in Striptease and especially Boogie Nights proved the man had the right stuff.
Toward the end it was kinda sad to watch Burt crumple. I saw him on an episode of some collectible car auction show on a three-digit cable channel where one of the Trans-Ams that appeared in the Smokey series was on the block.
Damn, I couldn’t believe what happened to that muscular guy who put an arrow through a hillbilly’s chest from 50 paces.
Forget warning messages on cigarette packages – they should just post this picture.
A Wonderful Word
Prosopagnosia – an inability to recognize the faces of familiar people.