Sunday afternoon after returning home from church my first stop was the TV. Sitting there in my miniature three-piece suit complete with cheesey clip on tie, I adjusted the rabbit ears sitting atop our Flintstone-sized boob tube.
By the time everyone else had changed clothes and made their way to the living room, I had picked the signal from neighboring Asheville, NC.
Chief Wahoo McDaniel leaned his body into the microphone as he and the commentator squeezed themselves into frame. I don't remember the exact phrases or trick lines, but by the end of his rant, we hated whomever he was going to step into the ring with. Before he made his exit, he slammed a karate chop style blow into his open...
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