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Reposted from stlouisblues - That just happened!!! Tickets on sale now! Visit the link in our bio! Tickets are on sale for his stop in St. Louis on Oct. Ticket info is available in the link in our bio! Presale is open until Thursday at 10p! Happy SharkWeek! It's SharkWeek!!
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Tickets are on sale now! Visit the link in our bio for info! Louisan bravoandy and andersoncooper an unscripted, uncensored and unforgettable night of conversation at Stifel Theatre on Friday, Nov. Tickets on sale Friday, July 19 at 10 a.
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Where Are They Now: Undisputed Truth
This would never happen with the writers and intellectuals who usually grace this august stage. They are interesting, admired or even loved on the basis of stuff they have created, that is external to them. Among the living only Diego Maradona whom I also saw once, in an equally improbable setting, as he emerged from the Oxford Union has risen to comparable heights from such depths — and then plummeted back down again.
Paul Gascoigne was an amazing footballer and Ben Johnson ran extremely fast but Maradona's and Tyson's life stories place them in a different realm.
Mike Tyson: Undisputed Truth | DPAC Official Site
In Naples there are still shrines to Diego. When Tyson, at the library, said that he had been a god this seemed a self-definition that even Richard Dawkins might allow. Tyson's were "Came, saw, conquered, got conquered, bounced back.
Maradona and Tyson fell — and fell prey to pretty similar temptations — while avoiding a fatal Senna-esque collision with destiny. And so, after being a god, Tyson has ended up like thousands of other literary contenders: on the promo circuit with product to hustle. Undisputed Truth is the latest and biggest bounce in a bills-to-pay comeback that began with James Toback's intimate documentary, Tyson , and continued with an acting role in The Hangover.
Tyson played himself, naturally, a role he reprised for a one-man Broadway show that was then filmed by Spike Lee. That it's also addictive is down in part to Tyson's co-author, Larry Sloman. Tyson claims he "inherited Cus's ability to tell stories" but as he regaled the audience with lispy anecdotes — growing up in Brooklyn, breaking into houses and being on the roof with his pigeons — it rapidly became as interesting as hearing a celebrity recount a dream.
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Tyson is a history nut, and a prompted digression on the Visigoths was as dull as — if slightly more confusing than — a lecture by a Cambridge don. Things only really got going when he burst into invective and profanity.
I missed the one-man show but a friend reported that the best moment came when Tyson spotted a guy asleep in the front row. Mike went up to him and yelled in his face that he was gonna stick his dick in his mouth. Having encouraged Tyson to ramble through his past, Sloman shaped the mass of material into a narrative that opens with the most vehemently disputed part of the story: the conviction for raping Desiree Washington in Adamant that he did no such thing, Tyson goes into graphic detail, later, to explain how he didn't he went down on her while she was menstruating, apparently unaware that he was "gargling blood".
The conviction might have been shaky but so is the defence that it's impossible to "rape someone when they come to your hotel at two in the morning. There's nothing open that late but legs.
The Undisputed Truth
Out of jail after three years, he became an easy mark for claims of assault and sexual harassment even when he was trying to keep some of these women at bay — not because, as a convert to the Nation of Islam, he was newly abstemious, but because they were skanky hos.
It got to the point where he "was hardly seen out in public. One reason for that was that I spent a lot of time indoors at strip clubs. He had a palace in Vegas, too, but his true home was what Conrad called "the destructive element". Unconvinced that he had been fairly beaten, one of those opponents, Mitch Green, high on angel dust, starts taunting Tyson who beats him up again in the street.
Bloodied — "I had crushed his eye socket, broken his nose, cracked some ribs" — but unbowed, Mitch comes back for another helping a few pages later when Mike is "on a date with some exotic hot Afrocentric chick named Egypt or Somalia or some other country like that". She stops him carving Mitch up with a steak knife "I wasn't a vegan then" but being with Tyson or working for him could turn bad almost as quickly as fighting against him. One feels zero sympathy for Don King "a wretched, slimy reptilian motherfucker" or Frank Warren, both of whom get richly stomped, but spare a thought for the bodyguard who "actually began to think his name was 'Motherfucker' because all he'd hear was 'Motherfucker.
Get me this.
As will be clear by now, Sloman brings Tyson's voice springing off the page with its often hilarious combo of street and shrink, pimp profanity and the "prisony pseudo-intellectual modern mack rap" of the autodidact.