Musical Chairs with the Zombie and the Great Khali

After a long and strenuous time trying to figure out what it is that life is all about, I decided to come to a great, amazing, tremendous and particularly fucking aw3som3 solution, yo.

And it's pretty much this simple.

The greatest and awesome things in our world are two things: musical chairs and devoted prayer to Allah, who has gained plenty of love and respect by indicating his hatred towards America to a somewhat deluded public. (Well, maybe not. I think the whole God deal gets very heavy-handed sometimes and people decide to ridiculously over-analyse from the perceived comments coming out of his mouth, the rumbles from his gourd and the perception of bunions on said god's feet. This may not make sense to you or me, but fuck you, man. Don't read this shit!)

The concerns over musical chairs is a very intriguing one. We all run around chairs, because we live in the world of waiters, busboys and aristocrats, who figure things out through manipulative serving skills, overextended use of soap and oratory abilities that may match The Great Khali's or The Zombie.

Khali reminds me of a young Giant Silva. Well, not particularly young. But young in wrestling ability! The promo ability may not be there, but I may believe that the man will become a huge freak attraction with Super Porky in goofy comedy matches for the CMLL promotion. Khali, an Indian with a jaw that captures a Dental Holocaust, may end up in freakish matches for PRIDE.

I believe in a musical chairs game in order to decide who is the second coming of Harley Race-style promos. There are no great promos anymore but these two men, with their catchphrases of "GRRR" and "UNDABHREM" will have to settle this over Gang Starr's hit song "DWYCK", which was decided to be one of Philaflava's 100 Greatest Hip-Hop Songs. I would like to place a $5.00 bet that Khali can recite Smooth's verse in full...

I left my Phillie at home
Do you have another?
I wanna get blunted my brother
Now may I make a mark
Then make a spark over this phat track
Or should I say dope beat
Subtract, delete
All of the wick wack that wanna be abstract
But they lack the new knack that's comin from way way back
Hey yo Premier, please pass that buddha sack
You hear we quit?
No way, bullshit
I told ya before we come back wit more hits
I provide bright flava, so you could sketch me
Do me a favor, dont try and catch me
Step me ahead of the game I'm not a lame
Ask him, he'll tell you the same he knows my name
Smooth, I drop jewels like, paraphenalia
I'm infallable, not into failure
Like a rhinocerus, my speed is prosperous
And pure knowledge expands from my esophagus
I write here tonite to bring truth to the light
My dialogue is my own cause Smooth B will neva bite