Our champion

On Thursday evening, the entire Z. clan crowded around the telly to watch Doc Popular do his thing on national television. After enduring urban freestyle, some automotive jump-rope, and a dude pitching cards into defenseless fruit, we finally got to see the good Doctor (and two of his young charges from The College for the Easily Amused) take on a (rival?) team of yo-yoers from Texas.

Don’t get me wrong; the Texans were hot, but Doc and his boys did some shit to which no apt written description may be properly affixed. The best way to impress upon you the true splendor of the activities to which we bore witness is as follows -- press the back of your tongue to the roof of your mouth and the tip of your tongue to the back of your front teeth… now attempt to cough… and bug out your eyes like Marty Feldman. This was the precise reaction of my entire family to Doc Pop’s routine-ending trick.

Our heroes easily won their challenge against the Texans, but were denied the final trophy in favor of the card guy. Alas, this is what happens when you leave important decisions up to the likes of Johnny Moseley.

Again, it is impossible for me to describe to you the caliber of yo-yo wizardry that I observed on that faithful eve. It was akin to seeing a man, not merely opening a bottle with his teeth, but tapping a keg of beer using only his ass cheeks: you imagine such deeds are possible, but you never exactly expect to see them performed. Particularly on network television.

There is video of the night’s festivities readily available, so you have no reason not to see for yourself. After you do, why not throw some love Doc’s way? He is easy enough to locate.