YES. I am back once again with
another heaping spoonful of your favorite hot breakfast.
But, before we get down to "Bidness" as Dusty
Rhodes would say, whilst likely driving
through the completely legitimate Pay
Winda, let me first fill you in on
what you can expect from my column from this
point forward: NOTHING. It's
true. Basically, for now, it will just consist
of point form opinions, random buffoonery, and
chalked full of jokes that probably amuse me more
than anyone else. I mean, if you
truly wanted insightful, deep, meaningful
writing, I suggest you click on someone else’s column.
Because here's a revelation: I am extremely lazy.
However, if you like Pat Patterson innuendos and jokes
about people shitting in Sable's gym bag, you've come to
the right place my friend. Really. They don't
call me the most trusted and reliable journalist in the
IWC for... anything?
Ya.
So, everyone join me as we jump headfirst
into the empty pool that is Pro Wrestling:
But first, before we get into the Rasslin',
let me first say that I am hooked on a new
show on SpikeTV. Let it be said that nothing
on the former "shuckin' and grinnin' network has EVER
grabbed my attention before. And as much as I want to
see Bobby Bacula play cards and talk about movies for 2
hours, or watch a 35 minute ad for a Conway fucking
Twitty album from 1972, I have *finally* found a
show on this network that doesn't make me want to
take my obscenely gigantic over-priced remote that's the
size of a novelty chocolate bar, and bat myself to death
with it. Only pausing briefly to change the batteries
that die every 24 hours.
Don't get me wrong, I deplore reality
Television; but there's just something about the
every-man Joe, that is hard to not be captivated by.
Well, that, and I want to have "sexual intercourse" as
the kids are saying these days with this Molly
character. The only other reality show I watched on a
semi-regular basis was Tough Enough; but that was more
for seeing, for the most part, washed up, or in some
cases never-was's verbally accosting clean-cut good
looking people. I'm silly like
that.
I
also derived pleasure from the fact that after
hearing for YEARS, JR making light
of people who said "But they know how to fall!..", that
there was NOW A SHOW, that
get this, actually showed *gulp* PEOPLE LEARNING
HOW TO FALL. Imagine that. I don't think
I'm exaggerating when I say that once Jim
Ross caught wind of this, he furiously
went home and took his frustrations out
on a government mule. I mean, you'd
think after how often he's mentioned them, he'd
just HAVE to get one of his very own, right? How
nice for him. Our government has yet to give us our
designated livestock in which we can physically abuse.
What a gyp. I'm still waiting for my scalded dog, too.
Why is JR the only one allowed to verbally and
physically accost animals? It's not
fair.
Anyhoo, after giving
Joe Schmo the old 'how's your father', I thought it'd
only be fair that I give another new show, The Mullets
the same consideration. How stupid could I be? (very,
apparently). The show is obviously intelligence
insulting to anyone with umm, intelligence? Sounds about
right. And it's funny that WWE would ever attach its
stamp o' approval on this steaming nugget. But hey,
considering how they write their show, it actually
doesn't surprise me. It was after-all, one ridiculous
wrestling cliché after the other, right down to the "not
knowing it's not real" stereotype that we all have had
to hear for years from parents and friends alike. Ya,
let's perpetuate that stereotype some more. Hey, why
don't we just finish the circle, and film a fat guy in a
tattered 1998 nWo shirt with his billowing gut hanging
out, typing feverishly on the Internet as to why
HBK/Jericho was only 3 1/4* as opposed to 4, all while
getting pissed off when his Mom has the by god audacity
to come through his "apartment" on route to her laundry
room in the basement? Let's hammer it all home. For the
record, I HATE IT when Mom does that. RESPECT MY
BOUNDARIES!
For the record,
though, as far as "mullets" and wrestling fans being
synonymous, there is probably way more wrestlers out
there with mullets than wrestling fans. It's true. I
mean, take Ricky Morton. No, I mean, seriously. Take
him. Hide him somewhere. Or pin him down and give him a
haircut. Jesus Christ.
That said, the show
itself was, well, let's just say it was about as funny
as being on the receiving end of a vasectomy by a doctor
with a medical degree from Trinidad. You see, because
people from Trinidad get Medical degrees quite easily
and thus it'd be bad to have an untrained foreigner
using sharp tools on your testicles. Umm, ya. See, I
should write for this show!
Ahem.
Seriously
though, the only people who would find shit like
this remotely humorous are people with two first names,
who own a mobile home, yet 3 cars that aren't, or the
guys who laughed when you dropped your books in High
School. And sure, I laughed at you doing that, too, but
it was because you were a loser. Wait, what was my point
again? Never mind.
So, with that all
said: Fuck you, Mullets, watch Joe Schmo, and oh ya,
stop reading my openers. They do no one any
good.
ONTO THE
RANDOM WRESTLING DIARRHEA!
THERE'S STUFF
HAPPENING IN WRESTLING. LET'S MAKE FUN OF
IT.
-After the one cent
pay-per-view hook from the previous week, I decided to
climb back on the TNA horse (which gets treated better
than JR's mule, at least) for one more ride
and see what happens. Well, what "happened" was Shane
Douglas puking (and without Papa Shango even putting a
curse on him no less! ), and Raven getting a
blood-soaked haircut in probably not the best
advertisement for Super Cuts I've ever seen. Remind me
to never go get my hair cut at a place that
fucking DDT's you first into unconsciousness.
Although, at least that'd save you he annoyance
of having to have that bitch constantly grabbing
your head and forcing it downward. Now I know how my
exes must have felt! It ain't gonna suck
itself! I'm pure class, ladies. And I'm
single.
Anyway, the one thing
that did catch my attention though, was the
interview with one Roddy Piper, who came out
and cut maybe the most unintelligible promo of his
career. And that's saying something. He basically
said that his kids found out at school that he's a drug
addict. As if the tourniquet tied around his
bagpipes never tipped them off. The funny
thing of course is that it was Roddy himself
who admitted this on National TV
originally. It was
actually never mentioned by the WWE once
(despite Piper alluding to it), even though quite
frankly, it was pretty obvious. (I could of sworn I
remember seeing a bottle of Beam shoot out of Hot Rod's
mouth when Eddie frog splashed him a few months ago).
So, if anything, the only person Piper can
blame for his children realizing the powder on Daddy's
nose wasn't from Krispy Kreme Donuts, is the
man looking back at him in the mirror. (well, what's
left it it. After all, you need something to cut
coke those lines on!).
-I like that WWE has
come up with a *COMPLETELY ORIGINAL* gimmick for
Shaniqua. Imagine if a woman who is big and intimidating
could get over just by wrestling and
manhandling men? What a novel concept! This
just in: WWE to change Shaniqua's name to
Afryka .
-Speaking of Joanie "Chyna" Laurer, it's good
to know that her charges against perennial HHH sloppy
seconds taker Sean Waltman for assault have
now been dropped. YAY! Although, it
is kind of hard to believe that after being
programmed to think Chyna could take any man
that she had trouble with fucking X Pac. I mean, I've
seen women's shelters. How many of those women have
held the obscenely prestigious Intercontinental
Title? hmmmm? Exactly. One question
though: Why didn't Chyna just do that really
cool handspring back flip to avoid the punches?
That shit has to work in real
life!
-Ever wonder what
Vince McMahon jerks off to? Not really. But you have to
admit, there is one constant that may in
fact be a strange fetish of his: Every time
WWE has booked anything remotely sexually provocative on
WWE Television, a big ugly man always seems to intervene
and squash the women. Maybe Vince gets off on it?
The only positive I can see coming from it is if the
Hoss in question splashes the woman with such veracity
and impact, that somehow, the sheer trajectory and
centrifugal force would cause all her clothes to explode
from her body. I even worked out a rough schematic and
chart to show how it would be scientifically possible,
but I think I may have used it when I ran out of zig
zags. It was something, though. Trust
me.
Anyway, speaking of
Vince and his sexual perversions, if you watched
the build to No Mercy, you'd have seen that Vince
apparently wants to make it with his own
daughter, Stephanie, as his comments on the show,
although thinly veiled, suggested. Another
Taboo brought to life by the good folks at
WWE! All is left is for someone to fuck a dead
body! Oh wait. But that said, I can't say I really blame
the guy. I mean, he did pay for most of her
equipment. He just wants to make sure he got his money's
worth, that's all! It's just consumer
interest! Stop looking at me like
that!
- You know, they
should really be pushing A-Train. Off a cliff. I
don't get it with this guy. I'm sure he's a real nice
guy and all, but how many chances do you have to get
over? What is this, chance number 3052? I
know WWE sometimes likes to throw shit against the wall
and see if it sticks, but there just comes a time
when you just have to clean up all that shit 'cause
you're making a big fucking mess. But that said,
where the fuck did that saying ever even come from? Who
throws shit against a wall, and then is inspired to
create great ideas if it somehow suctions itself to a
wall? That's insanity! Or maybe I'm just bitter
because I literally did that for the last 3 months and
just found out today it was only a euphemism.
Maybe.
-It's nice to see Dawn Marie and Torrie
Wilson getting along! Yes sir. It's kind of cool
how murdering someone's Father just doesn't seem to hold
the same weight as it used to. Bygones are bygones, I
guess. I mean, who could really ever hold a
grudge against someone who fucked your dad to death on
camera in front of millions of people, then attacked you
during his funeral and tipped the casket over
causing the corpse to come flying out? I mean,
especially when you need a tag team partner for a big
Thursday night match! That cancels out murder. ALWAYS.
WRESTLING= FORGIVENESS. Unless your
last name is Savage. (don't even think about coming
here, Fred!).
But, that said, R.I.P., Al. You at
least went out on your back. You know,
unlike your daughter, who last time I checked,
NEVER LOSES MATCHES. She's like the
female Hulk Hogan. Only she keeps her shirt on. Boo. But
still, here's to you, Al. Your memory will live on
for... far too long ? Ya. Most notably for the
most terrifying visual in TV history. Standing in your
underwear during your marriage
ceremony, harder than the tree that killed Sonny Bono.
(or maybe early rigor mortis was just setting in early?
Maybe?). That was one for the ages. I mean, who
said erect octogenarian wood on TV isn't what the
18-35 male demographic wants to see? Oh ya, that's
right, everybody.
-It's nice to see Brock Lesnar get
the WWE Title back. And all he had to do was physically
assault a crippled person to get the opportunity.
To put this theory to rest, just the other day, I put
the boots to someone with Down's Syndrome... and I still
haven't gotten a break! What gives? Where's my
belt? Did I do it wrong?
- Guess what,
I did end up ordering Unforgiven after
all, and I was pleasantly surprised to see The H's
actually put over Goldberg completely clean. HHH also made
it through the match relatively unscathed, thanks
probably to his very special clam diggers that
house the injured Steph Hammer, likely keeping it
safe for the wedding night to Steph wherein it will be
released upon the loins of Ms. McMahon like the mythical
Cracken of Greek mythology. It will only briefly pause
to pin other penises not ready for the main event
scene. On that day, Jesus will break the seventh
seal and the moon will turn to blood. And I of
course will probably just sleep through the whole
ordeal. Wake me up when the six-headed dragon
gets here.
-The Dudleys took the Tag-team belts from the
Green Frogs and Rob Conway at Unforgiven as
well. Hey, have you ever noticed that
Conway looks like a very angry Gary Senise?
Although, I guess Lt. Dan had just cause for
his anger, having no legs and being trapped on a
shrimping boat and all. But hey, I don't want to give
WWE any bright ideas. The last thing they need is a
useless wrestler with lame legs. Well, you
know, besides Kevin
Nash.
-It turns out Sylvan Grenier is off to rehab
his "neck" after all. Yes neck
. And not "ass" as I had originally
guessed. That's their story, and their sticking to it,
like a pretty boy with 6 months wrestling experience
sticks it to 65 year old booker to get a Tag Title run
when he's not ready, or qualified, or over. Yes,
that's a real expression. Oh well. I'll take Sylvan at
face value for now. Even if, in his case, he's usually
faced in the opposite direction. I guess we'll get
our TRUE answers eventually, if he returns to
the ring with a hemorrhoid cushion sewn into the back of
his tights. Time will
tell.
Okay, that's it for this week, I'm off to
work on my Tan. Tan of course being the 14 year old
Cambodian boy I keep as an unpaid slave. Sometimes he
needs discipline. What can I
say.
*But first*, a very
special memoriam to a lost friend who was cut
down in the prime of their lives
recently:
With all the deaths lately in Hollywood and
the mainstream, I thought I'd take a moment to
remember a forgotten fallen hero. In my life, there
was always several constants: The air I breathed, the
sun rising and setting, and the beloved mop of
Kevin Nash. It came from humble
beginnings. A time where a dude could
wear Acid Wash jeans and a really cool rhinestone
bedazzled jean jacket and no one would look at him
funny. Ok, they would. But not for long, because he was
all tall and stuff, and wore a single black glove on a
fist that could knock you out with ONE PUNCH.
Well, until the office figured out that was
like the worst fucking finish ever and forgot all
about it. Anyway, it was
originally birthed in 1993, from a Gresion-5
tinted mullet, and through time, it grew into a
beautiful long flowing mane... that
eventually allowed me to love again . Ok that
last part was for dramatic effect. Anyway, it's sudden
demise came as both a shock and sadness to me. You're
always sad to see the young ones go. And Nash
mop had not even reached 11 years of age before it was
yanked from this world with its
then-bright neon yellow fragments disposed of so
callously. You never get over something like
that. It had so much promise. Imagine how many more
corners it could have been casually standing around
in whilst other people did all the work. It's
tragic.
So let us all take a moment to remember
the hair of Kevin Nash and all it meant to our lives.
But worry not my
friends, and grieve only briefly, for much like the
Phoenix (the mythological bird, not Arizona, for
which the mop made its home for many a year), it will no
doubt rise from the ashes and grace our lives
once again with its glorious flowing splendor!
Until then, though, God Speed, Gentle Friend.
