About two decades ago, my brother came home covered in blood after a trip to Wal-Mart. He told my mother that he’d accidentally cut off a local television meteorologist while driving. The guy followed him into the parking lot, got out of his car and aggressively reached into my brother’s vehicle, trying to take his car keys. So my bro went full defensive cumulonimbus, knocked the weirdo down with his car door like Knight Rider, and broke his nose. This would be a stupid story if we hadn’t turned on the news later that night and learned that the weather man was out with a “skiing injury.” And just two years ago, that same local celebrity confessed that he has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, that he’s been experiencing manic episodes.
Years after the alleged meteorological offensive, I was working as a 911 dispatcher about twenty miles southwest of that assault-o-mart. I received a call from that exact same weather man, reporting some loose cattle on a country road. I wanted to ask if it was him who got beat up that day. It was my chance to resolve our Great Family Mystery, the biggest thing that happened since my mentally ill Uncle bought a worm farm in Mora. But it seemed like an unprofessional thing to do. And I also worried that the forecast was cloudy, with a chance of lawsuits. So I suppose I’ll never know, and I’ll just keep whispering at campfires about the time my brother and the local God of Thunder threw down at W-Town. It is almost certainly better that way.
That long, windy build up was designed to introduce this video of an allegedly pixelated Urijah Faber smoking a joint on Grand Theft Auto 5. In this case, we won’t be speculating for two decades about it. Why? Because we know it isn’t Urijah. It doesn’t even look like Urijah, and the video creator is clearly so stoned that he’s given himself glaucoma.
