Short vs. Gangly

People with short arms shouldn't fly.  It's simple aerodynamics.  A physics problem where x = crumpled.  Neil Young once sang, "Flying on the ground is wrong."  We wouldn't say it's wrong exactly, but your narrow streets are definitely a bitch.  Our arms are kind of short but then again so are we. Being shortish has its disadvantages, but it beats the shit out of gangly.  There's nothing worse than a gangly person.  Say you're playing pickup basketball and here comes a gangly motherfucker.  If you're smart you'll say, "No, gangly motherfucker, you cannot play.  You're too gangly."  Also bad is the apelike combination of short build and long arms.  This type is personified by the famous Littonian Dennis "Monk" Crabbs, who for all we know is the Missing Link. Say you're playing pickup basketball and here comes Monk Crabbs.  If you're smart you'll say, "Here's the ball Monk."  Then use the time it takes for him to eat it to make your getaway. 

Comments

[Ben]

Too funny. I regularly wrestled Monk Crabbs in practice. It was a very unusual experience. As near as I could tell, Monk’s brain operated in a binary fashion—a docile-super human aggression-docile cycle. He didn’t really know how to wrestle in what most of us would consider a civilized sense. He was able to recognize “bad situations,” such as having one’s shoulders toward the mat. And ignoring his perpetually blood shot simian eyes and baboon fangs, he was pretty docile. He’d just kind of go with the flow not unlike a large German shepherd (which one knows can kill if it wanted at any moment in a simple game of fetch). When suddenly Monk’s back should be facing toward the mat, a switch would trigger in his brain and Monk would exhibit incredible and spontaneous ape like strength, toss me away like a rag doll, then just as spontaneously slip back into the tame mode after the perceived threat to him had passed. But my all time favorite Monk wrestling moment didn’t involve me. He was wrestling some guy from another school in much the same docile fashion, when the dude started to put Monk in a pinning combination, from which Monk calmly and somehow miraculously stood straight up with the guy held over his head (King Kong style) while Coach Weikel frantically yelled “NO MONK NO! NO MONK NO!” anticipating the prospect of a violent and probably fatal over the head body slam. Then Monk on hearing his trainer’s voice gently and obediently lowered his quarry to the mat.

[Steve]

Ben, thats terrific.
He makes me think of the big Indian in One Flew over the Cuckoos nest.
Cheif. that was his name

[Ben]

Monk was sort of Chief-like in an ape like manner. What was great about Monk is he never really raised a paw in anger unless he was drunk--then he was a Tasmanian devil.

Monk would lose a match, which by all accounts he should have never lost any, walk off the mat looking always toward the bright side, "Me not get pinned."