Marc Ambinder at the Atlantic is obsessed with the wrestling oversight in the House. Let's get this straight, he's not obsessed the same way Andrew Sullivan is Sarah Palin, but following Ambinder's original post calling light to the Waxman's results, hes posted two other entries discussing Hulk Hogan's wrestling abilities (here and here) including evidence and counter evidence of his technical skills.
I figured it was as an appropriate time as ever to tell my Hulk Hogan story:
Many years back I met Hulk Hogan at the Old Spaghetti Factory in Hollywood. I was a HUGE Hogan fan as a kid and I was still debating whether I should interrupt his meal. Growing up in Pacific Grove, where we border Pebble Beach and Carmel, it was not uncommon to meet celebrities. But Hulk Hogan was a little different. He was an icon of my adolescence. While playing the idea in my head of what I'd say, my dinner was interrupted by a phone call from my friend Emilia. The moment she heard Hogan was eating two tables away, Emilia demanded to speak to him. I wasn't about to interrupt his dinner so she could talk to him but what came next changed that.
Emilia: Come on, I want to talk to him.I wasn't sure here what he meant, do his meals get interrupted all the time? I'm sure this is true. Or is it that overzealous fans want to speak to him on the phone? I never asked. Hogan took my phone and talked to her for a few minutes. I'm not exactly sure what was said between them, but Hogan ended the conversation with, "Stanford Sucks! It was nice talking to you, Emilia." We tried to buy him a drink for his trouble, but he said he doesn't drink in public, which was something I could respect. Yes, all it took was a little challenge to my masculinity to push me towards the decision I wanted to make anyway. That was my only in Hollywood moment. I'm not sure I would have gotten the same experience or even a similar story from interrupting Slug's conversation, so I just continued on with my day.
Me: No, you caaan't talk to Hulk Hogan.
Emilia: What, are you not a man? Are you too much of a wimp to hand him the phone? Yeah, that's what I thought.
Me: Yeah, fine. You can talk to him.
Me: Mr. Hogan, I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner. But my friend Emilia is on the phone and she really wants to talk to you.
Hogan: No problem, kid. It happens all the time.
By the way, yes, Hogan looked almost exactly like the photo above at the restaurant - black painted on beard and all.
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