Violence. Speed. Momentum. by Dr DisRespect (bill gates books to read TXT) 📕

buy. Find that shit online and it can be yours in days, which makes it pretty ordinary. But you know what? It’s worth breaking my champion’s creed for one simple reason.

Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!!

I mean, look. I love multiplayer shooter games. Why shouldn’t I? I dominate them. I got rich dominating them. I built an empire dominating them. Also, they’re badass.

But there’s simply no question that Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!! is the most awesome video game ever created. Period. We’re talking fluid, intuitive, lightning-quick gameplay. We’re talking graphics that are still fun and entertaining even by today’s standards. We’re talking top-notch iconic characters like Von Kaiser and Don Flamenco and Great Tiger and Soda Popinski, and the kind of hilarious unironic ethnic stereotypes you could only get away with in the late eighties. We’re talking the poignant hard-knocks story of Little Mac and Doc Louis set to an electronic rendition of the song “Look Sharp/Be Sharp March” that still gives me a lump in my manly throat to this day. And most of all, we’re talking the one, the only, Mike Tyson, the greatest heavyweight champion of all time, an almost impossible-to-beat boss—except for me—and a dude who in real life bit off Evander Holyfield’s motherfucking ear on pay-per-view TV.

Did you hear that?

HE BIT OFF A MAN’S EAR IN REAL LIFE ON PAY-PER-VIEW.

Soda Popinski. Little Mac. Mike Tyson. Bitten-off prizefighter ears.

This is a game that is the purest incarnation of VIOLENCE… of SPEED…

Of—

FUCK.

Holy shit, can you believe this? I haven’t heard from Nigel the Editor in days—TBH, don’t miss the guy at all—but now he’s pinging me on AOL Instant Messenger.

Sorry, guys, this right here is an official…

Real-Time Update

Whoa whoa whoa.

All right, so this is definitely Nigel the Editor’s AIM that’s coming through—I mean, he’s the only dude I know who uses AIM anymore, so that’s no surprise—but something tells me this isn’t actually Nigel the Editor…

It begins, Doc—this is not Nigel the Editor. See what I mean?

Wait, another AIM is coming through: Stop writing your stupid book and pay attention.

Wait, how does this mystery person know I’m writing a book? (And it is not stupid!)

It is absolutely a stupid book. And we know because we know all. We have ears everywhere. Eyes everywhere. Spies everywhere. We are… the Brotherhood.

The Brotherhood?! Oh shit!

Didn’t see that one coming, did you?

I mean, if I’m being honest…

Bullshit. This was a total surprise and you know it!

Whatever you say, Carl the Hunchback.

But you saw me plummet to my doom in the icy depths of the ocean! And you KNOW that nickname is insensitive!

Dude, everyone knows that the evil archenemy who plummets to his doom isn’t really dead. We all knew you were coming back. Like, all of us. And it’s not my fault you have a hunchback. I mean, go to a fucking chiropractor or—

Enough! I’ve been waiting for this moment. My chance to get my vengeance for what you did to me, to the Brotherhood, to the ancient KEFVGAAIR tournament, and to our entire global criminal enterprise. I’ve been planning, plotting, scheming, then planning some more. And now, after all these years—

Yeah, yeah, we get it! I know what you’re gonna say, all right, man? You kidnapped Nigel the Editor, and now you’re using him as bait to lure me into combat so you can kill me and finally get your revenge blah blah blah.

Damn, was it really that obvious?

I mean, as soon as Nigel the Editor told me he was going on vacation to Hong Kong, I thought, “Shit, that stupid Brotherhood and Carl the Hunchback are gonna kidnap his ass and try to force me into some badass final showdown.”

We told him he won an all-expenses-paid first-class trip! He fell for it completely!

I’ll think about it.

What?

I said I’ll think about it, all right? I’ve still got a ton of work to do on this book! Which is awesome and not stupid, BTW. I got all these deadlines coming up, and this new editor the publisher gave me—his name is Milton—is a real fucking ballbuster. And look, it’s not like Nigel and I parted on the best terms, you know? All that shit he gave me about selling my merch and what I’m actually a doctor of and not writing a whole chapter that consisted only of the world’s longest yayayayayayayayyayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayayaya—

For the love of God, stop!

But, you know, I guess I’ll consider rescuing him?

But—but my revenge!

Like, maybe after I finish rocking out on this next chapter?

But—but he eats so much food!

Okayyyy… deleting AIM now, like I shoulda done ten years ago…

And he’s so fucking annoying!

Later, Carl the Hunchback. I mean, maybe, maybe not—who knows?

I. In this dimension, I’m the one who speaks Chinese, and Razor Frank is the one who can’t understand a word I’m saying. Boom! How’s that for a twist?

II. In two or three dimensions, Ericsson’s mobile division was eventually bought out by Sony, and that’s obviously not… Wait a second. What am I doing? Did you seriously buy this book for its scholarship? Get the fuck outta here.

CHAPTER 13 HOLLYWOOD DOMINATION—AND DOC’S DISILLUSIONMENT

LOOK, MAN. YOU KNOW ME. Hopefully not too well, because that would be creepy.

But still, you know that the Two-Time is never satisfied. So even after I assembled a Champions Club of the world’s greatest gamers in the most elite arena of all time, even after I amassed a fortune in diamonds and gold doubloons and black-on-black Lamborghini Diablos, it took, I don’t know, maybe a few months before I needed a new challenge. Or was it a few weeks? Or a few days? Who knows, it all gets a little blurry when you’re so goddamn dominant.

But there was one thing I did know, and that was that I needed something new to dominate. Something fresh, something original.

Instead I got Hollywood.

But you know—beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Hahaha, just kidding—I’ve never begged for anything in my life. NEVER! It’s just a stupid expression I decided to use. And in this