By CHRIS PACKHAM
I have nothing to contribute to the body of writing about Tonya Harding. It’s like an assignment to write three pages about Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery for English class: There’s absolutely nothing original to say about either one of them. Shirley Jackson is dead. But the last page is yet to be written in the chronicles of Tonya Harding — just not by me! If this were Timothy Finn’s Back to Rockville dot-typepad-dot-com, I’d just refer you to Wikipedia’s entries on both Tonya Harding and Shirley Jackson. Unlike Back to Rockville, I would subsequently vandalize both entries with varying degrees of right-wing polemics in accordance with my tightly held political convictions.
Tonight, Harding’s appearing at Season’s Beatings, a series of boxing cage matches held at the National Guard Armory at 100 South 20th Street. When I think of that tough little fireplug coming at me with her fists raised, I flinch reflexively.
I’ve heard a rumor that Crown Center turned down the opportunity to have Harding appear and skate at the Crown Center Ice Terrace, highlighting the total lack of any sense of humor among members of the Hall family. If it were my call, I’d have said, “Yes, of course,” followed by, “Does she have her own telescoping police baton, or should we provide one?”
It’s extremely important to note that admission — $18 to $40 — includes beer. As always, The Pitch reminds you that the police cannot legally force you to exhale into a Breathalyzer.
Saturday night, the Ohio Bobcats play KU at the Sprint Center. I am neither a KU graduate nor a Sprint Center-obsessed writer for a major local news daily, so I plan to choose from one of the literally tens of good music events among the literally hundreds of music events happening in the area, which include:
I am irresistibly forced to point out that Sunday, smart shoppers can acquire a totally free prostate screening at Arrowhead Stadium from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. This event fulfills my own lifelong ambition to have my prostate examined on the 50-yard line of an NFL team’s stadium, surrounded by both current players and hall of famers. Admittedly, my first choice was Giants Stadium. But still, imagine celebrating the good news that “everything seems normal up there” with a football-spike and victory dance in the end zone. HA HA, "end zone." I don’t really have a plan in the event of terrifying news, but I figure that if my PSAs are elevated, I’ll still be numb from all the pre-exam tailgating in the parking lot. HA HA, "tailgating." The NFL and the AMA remind men over the age of 50 to get their butts looked at once a year or something.