Thursday night, we headed out to Mr. C's Steakhouse for a tasty dinner after work. With the place set to close this fall, the opportunities to pay a visit to Karate Elvis are dwindling. Karate Elvis, for those of you who don't know, is perhaps the finest piece of porcelain artwork ever constructed. The statue stands just under 10 inches tall, and is just one of around 100 pieces of Elvis memorabilia in a glass display case in the hallway adjacent to the bathrooms. Dressed in a sequin-and-rhinestone-studded karate uniform, wearing his early-70's-trademark giant sunglasses, and rocking the Elvis Mullet as only Elvis could, this thing belongs in a museum based solely on its aesthetic value alone.
But one particular encounter with Karate Elvis took it from merely "great' to "legendary". Dick Herculanuum and Cliff Glypha were waiting for me to finish up in the bathroom, and were expressing their admiration for the Elvis memorabilia -- and in particular, the statue of Elvis in a karate pose. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a guy who sounded like Beverly-Hills-Cop-era Eddie Murphy came up behind them with a question.
"You know who taught Elvis karate?"