By Wilburn Sledge
Since my witty and soft-spoken boyhood, I’ve been an especially avid fan of public radio. Nothing creams my corn more than the idea of an afternoon spent next to a crackling fire, listening to a radio show peppered with fun factoids and moderately notable guests. Perhaps the most significant contributor to my obsession has been Ira Glass, who, up until now, I would have defended with my very life. I wrote letters to SNL when they cut Fred Armisen’s parody of him because he “wasn’t famous enough”; after all, he was the star of both my heart and my ever-expanding mind. I also bought thick-framed glasses that ruined my eyesight just so I could look as handsome as he. But that all ends right now, because I’ve uncovered something within myself that is more powerful than all of us: I could totally beat up Ira Glass.
I know you’re shocked right now, readers. I know you’re thinking, “Who in their right mind would even talk to Ira Glass, much less attack him?” And you’re right: I wouldn’t attack him. However, should he attack me, I now have the peace of mind that I could adequately defend myself and also beat him up. I’ve determined that since he is 6’2” and relatively ectomorphic, my stocky build and low center of gravity could easily pummel him given enough momentum. Glass, sixty and nearing retirement, almost certainly has rapidly deteriorating bones and withering reflexes; I, a bounding and jovial twenty-two, am getting stronger every day by lifting weights and eating creamed corn. My reflexes are that of a killer. I could beat that man up in an instant, and it wouldn’t even be hard.
If and when Ira Glass attacks me, perhaps while we sip coffee in his famous chalet-style dining room, my strategy will be as follows: as he attacks from above, I will get low and block him in a classic high parry, curling my supple hand into a fist as I prepare to wallop him. Now of course, Glass would see this all coming–he is, after all, an intellectual well-versed in the art of the tussle. His obvious next move will be to grab the nearest chair and vigorously swing it towards me in a whirlwind chopping motion. Anticipating this, I will dodge the chair and instead kick his foot with the force of a thousand soldiers. Using all the momentum I can muster, I will then nimbly whip around to knock him to the ground in a harrowing blow to the jaw. For my grand finale, I will mount his fragile body like a steed to deliver Gehenna in the form of a masterful tracheal choke. This will knock out Ira Glass, my boyhood hero, for several minutes, providing me with more than enough time to escape. On my way out of the dining room, I will steal an ivory candlestick as proof of my victory. I will have broken his mind, spirits, and body, all in that order.
Until now, I fell asleep every night listening to This American Life. Tonight, I will sleep more soundly than ever before, knowing that if Ira Glass ever picked a fight with me, I could totally beat him up.
Comments