Sublime

In a tag match against Nagasaki and Blondie Barrett, Brookside would be – and I’m not making this up – hypnotised by Nagasaki mid-match and then go after his own partner.

Wally Brown

queerly shaped old man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs.

Frank Donovan, a lifetime close friend and a lawyer from Detroit. He was known among his friends and clients as a brilliant legal analyst with a nonaggressive temperament. No litigator. When we were both twenty, I remember him saying: "When there's a fight, I pick up my hat and go home." He had a large head, somewhat out of proportion to

the now one-eared Yukon Eric.

It’s been years since everyone wore masks everywhere, years since the Spanish flu. He realized he preferred to cover his face. He hates his face. The freckles. Despises them. They look like mistakes. They are from his mother. His aquiline nose and round face are from his father. He can more easily pass for white with a mask on. He was wearing a mas

The conceit was successful for Bamberg. Silence was much more startling when Horace Goldin, a plump American magician at the turn of the twentieth century, deliberately began performing without speaking. Wearing a white tie and tails, Goldin, the "Whirlwind Illusionist," dashed onstage to present magic at breakneck speed-no time for talki