Back-Leg
Frontkick: 09.17.03: Giving My Two Cents (Then Taking it Back Since It's Canadian, And Thus Worthless).
Featuring: God Smites The Useless! It's Not Sodom And Gomorrah, but Hey, That One Dude Did Do Unnatural Things With His Ass!
Plus, Impending HHH Wedding Buzz (And Not From YJ Stinger Bees), Chyna Changes Her Name But Keeps Her Masculinity, And The
Actual Retail Value Of TNA. All This, Plus Much More!
 Hi, I'm Sean and I'll be your leader for today.
This is my first ever *Official* non-recap
column on the TWF site, and I thought I'd first let you in on a little about myself, to get a feel for what you
can expect, before we get to all that chocolaty ice cream goodness.
First and
foremost, I am evil. And not 'movie evil' wherein there is a shred of likeability to me, but the unadulterated kind.
But in all fairness, I do secretly have the heart of a good man. It's shrink wrapped in my freezer....but there
incase the situation merits its use. Can I be ambivalent at times? Well, yes and no.
Anyway, I spent the better part of the last
half year writing history pieces for other sites, but somehow, deep down in the pit of my stomach, I yearned to break free
and broaden my writing horizons. This "feeling" unfortunately turned out to be advanced pulmonary respiratory illness,
but alas that's life. One that apparently won't last much longer, but hey, whatever. In closing, I'd like to say my ultimate
long-term goal here online is to become the Kato Kaelin of the IWC, respectively living in the guest houses of all
the writers and readers, eating your food, drinking your booze and in turn turning a blind eye to any nefarious acts
that may or may not transpire. And for the record, I'm not above disposing of any bloody gloves and/or evidence
of any nature; Call me a team player! Just don't call me to the witness stand. Because I may fold under questioning.
Anyhoo, enough babbling, let's get to the good shit:
 Here's
my Two Cents on the Wrestling Landscape:
So,
I "ordered" the much ballyhooed NWA TNA "one cent pay-per-view" last week, and although I have seen a handful of TNA's
shows before (usually replays), I *tried* to give this federation the benefit of the doubt in the event this would finally
be the thing that hooked me. But unfortunately, there is still so much more to work on. For one, all workrate aside,
it's kind of hard to suspend disbelief for a "World Champion" who sounds like he spent the better part of his life working
at a Gas Station in
Mobile. HHH he's not. But maybe he could be. I just imagine instead of a water bottle, he'd carry a jug with three x's on
the side. And like Trips, Triple J would also try to get ahead by screwing the boss's daughter... who'd of course,
in this case, be his sister. Since, well, Daddy runs the company and all. But since they're based out of the south and all,
that may not be such a farfetched idea. Hee-haw.
Also, another
issue for me is the fact that Vince Russo, a NON-WRESTLER, is 2/3 taller than everyone on the roster. This
*kind of* made credibility a wee bit difficult. Call me crazy. The only thing more damaging at this point would
be if Vinnie Ru was seen swatting airplanes away as he climbed to the top of the "Asylum's" rafters. But hey, that'd
involve them actually charging people money for fucking tickets to pay for said airplanes, so, umm, never mind.
That said, the fact that Sting and Sean "I'll
eat that if you don't want it, HHH" Waltman were even featured on the show when neither work for the promotion
anymore is beyond me. I don't know, maybe showcase the stars I'll be paying to watch next week? Hmm? In a related note,
at least judging by the footage I just watched, The Stinger has recently given birth to a twelve pound
spare tire since his departure (Rapture?) from WCW. I had no idea Communion wafers were so high in calories. Who
knew?
Other than that though, I enjoyed the actual product itself. It can be a little spottier than your grandmother's
disgusting mottled arms at times, but solid nonetheless. AJ Styles and AMW impressed me very much. As did Raven, who
has in 6 months proven that Brian Gerwirtz, Big Steph and company need to commit collective booking hara-kiri for ever letting
this guy slip through their fat fingers. Normally, rather than Hara Kari I'd just suggest them putting
a gun to their heads, but after they fired they'd probably just shrug their shoulders, patch the completely clean
hole on the other side of their skull, and immediately get right back to writing some of the best TV you've never seen
in your life. So why bother?
One
thing I was NOT impressed with though is the aforementioned Jeff Jarrett. First and foremost, it's hard to
buy him as "country tough" when his street clothes suggest he's been spending far more time dancing in a giant bird cage than
kicking ass in the ring. I mean, really. Would you have *bought* Stone Cold had he word a paisley shirt, or salmon pink
slacks? I mean, seriously. The only "ass" he'd be whoopin' would the literal one being smacked by his swaying nutsack in the
throws of wanton homosexual passion. Live with that visual.
Jarrett's a
solid wrestler, sure, but sadly, when your own fan base in your own company cheers when you lose... maybe, just maybe,
you're not cut out for top babyface material. Just saying. I mean, The IWC community shits on Triple H for
winning against all odds, but even I don't remember The H's ever getting hit with a baseball bat three times in one match
and still coming back to win. Mostly because Triple H doesn't let anybody get that much offense in, before
pinning them 45 seconds later after a Pedigree, but hey, my point stands. Whatever it was.
-Speaking of HHH, The IWC has been really getting on his case lately for not
showing enough 'ass' in his feud with Goldberg. But maybe that's for the best. I don't know if my stomach could take seeing
all the Creative team's heads lodged up there.
But
seriously, is there anything the WWE does that surprises you anymore? Yet, here we stay. We've become
comparable to that wife who gets the shit beat of her by her abusive husband time and time again, but then always says, "He's
changed now, he'll be different". But hey, wee should have seen this all coming. I mean would you ever expect a
guy with an Iron Cross on his tights to cleanly put over a Jew? And hey, don't even get me started on that Elimination
Chamber. Note to Goldberg. That ain't pyro smoke in there! GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE.
EVEN MORE RANDOM BUFFOONERY AND THOUGHTS:
-Speaking of the Game, it won't be too long before our boy Triple H becomes the brand spankin' new
Mr. Stephanie McMahon! I have to admit, it's going to be a little disturbing seeing him wear a Tuxedo top tucked into
a pair of orthopedic bicycle shorts, but hey, who am I to judge? If wrestling has taught us anything, (and it's taught me
EVERYTHING) it's that these guys don't seem to wear pants EVER, even if they're not wrestling, so I guess a full-on
HHH freeballin' ceremony might not be that out of the norm. It's probably also the reason why Pat Patterson wants to sit in
the first pew.
Anyway, speaking of the HHH/Steph wedding, I recently heard through my super secret sources,
BILL APTER, that when HHH found out the actual wedding ceremony was going to be only 5-8 minutes long, he instead insisted
it go a full 35. Including himself giving the toast. Mostly because the Best Man (renamed 2nd Best Man
for obvious reasons. ) just isn't ready for that kind of responsibility yet. And who'd buy it, anyway? PAY YOUR DUES
2ND BEST MAN.
-Also, just a scientific observation on Steph herself: As big as her tits
are, and with as little skin as the human body has, shouldn't she have the tightest, firmest ass on the planet? What gives?
It's just science. I mean, ever tried to stuff a bowling ball into a sock? If the answer to this is "yes", seek
medical attention immediately because you are clearly insane. Just saying.
-Joanie Laurer,
who was once known as Chyna, and whose Mangina was the original HHH docking bay, has apparently changed her
stage name to "Chyna Doll"; you know, to avoid those pesky WWE trademark issues. Her penis however, is still
licensed to the company. You may recognize him as one of the Bashams today. But hey, why not "Chyna Doll?" It makes perfect sense.
Really. If you've seen the crazy cunt interviewed lately, you'd know that naming her after something that breaks incredibly
easy is like totally apropos.
-Injuries O' plenty in WWE these days:
First off, Billy Gunn is apparently out for 4-6 weeks. OH NO. And for the record that's "out" as in
"injured", and not "out" as in "the closet" as his nickname and theme song suggests. Listen to his lyrics sometime,
and tell me I'm wrong. But hey, best of luck to "WWE's best pure Athlete" anyway. Just ignore the fact that
Cole never tells us what sports he's supposed to be "better than anyone else" at. And ignore the fact that he seems to
blow up easier in the ring than a fucking Pinto. (which also blow up when hit from behind. Ask Chuck). That's just how
"pure athletes" operate. Trust me. All the best athletes lose their breath like 4 minutes into a game. So don't even
bother questioning it.
While we're on the topic of injuries and useless people, Kevin Nash is also apparently injured.
It looks like that grueling 4 month schedule, after taking a year and half out finally caught up with the big guy. I
just knew all that reckless walking would catch up with him eventually! Tone it down, Kev!
But hey, we should have seen this coming. See, much like the Biblical Samson, when Nash
lost his beloved mop, it also sapped his strength making him prone to the dreaded "they have shit for me to do creatively"
torn ego. An injury far too many blowhards never recover from. But no worries, Nash fans. This won't have
any long term effect on his wrestling terribly one iota. He'll be back on his feet doing nothing in no time. I have
faith.
And sadly, Sylvan Grenier has apparently injured his neck. I don't know how that could
have happened! Lock jaw, maybe? Using Patterson's balls as a kickstand for your head *can* have that effect. Or so I'm told.
If I actually knew, I'd probably at least be Intercontinental Champion by now. That's how these things usually
work.
-Unforgiven is this weekend, and if I didn't have a disease that forces
me to order every pay-per-view, shitty or otherwise, I'd probably purposely miss this one. And not just because WWE's
big sale's pitch this past Monday was JR putting over his match-up with the phrase "Sure, I can't wrestle a lick...".
SOLD. That's clearly how you move pay-per-views! Imagine if other WWE stars just decided to hard-sell the event by telling
the fucking truth...
Goldberg: "I'm only getting the belt because they paid too much for
me and need to justify it!... that and well, because Hunter's got an injured cock..."
Good enough.
Anyway, that all but sums up the Fed these days. The only thing I
find remotely compelling is said HHH/Goldberg Title match. I'm ashamed to admit that I have a morbid curiosity
as to how they'll finally pry the turkey plate from the H's death grip. My suggestion is poison. But hey, that's
just me.
-People have been complaining about how Rob Van Dam was buried last week
and how he should be a champion, yada, yada, yada. But I think that ol' Mr. Potato hands will be just fine, though. At
this point, I think that the only "Gold" that Mr. Van Dam seems interested in comes from Acapulco . Can't say I blame him. Although, I heard no one will smoke with him anymore. You
wouldn't either if every time you asked to sit down he tossed you a chair then kicked it in your face.
-And in closing, I must admit that I'm somewhat disturbed by the current incarnation of Kane. Not
because of the tasteless behavior his character exhibits, but more because he now resembles a giant Penis. Tell me I'm
wrong. I'm terrified to see what happens when someone puts him in a grinding headlock. I also fear for those people
in the first three rows as a result.
Well that's it for this week. I shall
return next week, providing my mission goes well. You see, I plan to single-handedly stop international tyranny using
only a fork, a rubber band, and a will to succeed. It's all the tools I'll need, mostly because it's all I can afford
because I spent my last 50 on alcohol and a dimebag. I think I've got a helluva shot. Wish me luck. And
not just because I'm very drunk and high right now, and I'm afraid I might not ever wake up. Not even. See
you next week.
Or will I?....
Sean
Carless is a man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an ever-increasing bald spot. Sean's various scribblings have
been read at Live Audio Wrestling, 411 Mania, Honky Tonk Man.com, The Toronto Star.com, Wrestlecrap, and Lethal Wrestling.
He has also cured AIDS.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
|
