In Memoriam: Jonathan Harris. Oh, the pain.
I’ll keep this short and sweet so even some of you can understand: If you are American, and if you are of age, go out and vote today. If there’s any lesson that you could carry away from two years ago (other than that Katherine Harris should have been charged with high treason and sentenced to watch her own press conferences on a perpetual tape loop), it’s that every vote really does count.
Let’s take where I’m going to be voting later today as an example. In Illinois, we have a statistical dead heat in the race for both governor and attorney general (although I don’t trust that first poll; the St. Louis Post-Dispatch has this habit of polling heavily-Republican Downstate Illinois). My vote’s going to count; I’ll help put Rod the Mod in Springfield to end twenty-six years of enemy occupation of the state house and even help the Stephanie McMahon of Chicago Politics, Lisa Madigan, become the state’s top legal eagle. I’ll have the privilege of voting for an ex-Black Panther for the House of Representatives (Bobby Rush), and keep a good senator like Dick Durbin in Washington. Hell, I may even vote for a Republican (Illinois treasurer; I kinda like Judy Baar Topinka). You know what? It’s my privilege and honor to do so.
I can understand that some of you young’uns may be a little bit disillusioned over the whole political process, especially after the mess in Florida. I mean, look at the guys we’ve elected to the nation’s highest office since I’ve been eligible to vote:
A senile, pussy-whipped retard who tolerated criminal behavior in the White House that would have embarassed John Gotti.
A man so twisted he has to screw his pants on in the morning, and who got us into a shooting war to help his Texas oil buddies.
A redneck yahoo who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, if only to prove that he too wasn’t pussy-whipped (and nobody bought it).
A man who lost the popular vote and whose election will be debated from now until the end of time, and who is so obviously a puppet that everyone looks for the strings at every press conference.
If you weren’t disillusioned by that, then look at what the Demos did turning Paul Wellstone’s funeral into a partisan political event (Yeah, Smitty, I was upset and dismayed by that; that was simply inappropriate and sick. Hell, even Jesse Ventura was embarassed by that behavior, and that should speak volumes about it right there.). There’s lots of demented acts by both major parties in the US. So I can understand if you don’t want to take five minutes out of your busy life to give your opinion on the stuff that really matters. Hell, I need to do laundry, but I’m too tired and apathetic to do it right now. But guess what? I’m going to put it on right after I get back from the polls today, because I don’t want my clothes or my government to stink to high heaven.
The old saw is that we get the leaders we deserve. Well, I think that we deserve better than that. There’s only one way to guarantee that, and I think you can figure out what it is.
I already wrote a screed about this in my September 11th column, which Gamble quoted and linked to over the weekend. I’ll therefore just summarize: If you don’t vote, you have no right to bitch about anything political, including what I write in here. If you aren’t registered, you don’t even deserve the basic rights of citizenship. So unless you do your civic duty today, don’t f*cking write me when I go off on politics. You didn’t make your voice heard when it counted, so why should I listen?
THE PIMP SECTION
Rivett echoes the shit I’ve been saying for over two years about getting WWE talent some acting lessons, and I understand his position on TBS. Understanding and accepting are two different things, though.
As usual, Hyatte got everyone else.
DODGE THE BULLET
Oh, CKK, what shall we do with you? Letting Microsoft off with a slap on the wrist? I’ve gotta find out what the threat was against her on this one. I’m thinking kidnapping and forced participation in an experiment to see if Steve Ballmer’s sweat is an aphrodisiac.
No breakup. No revealing of critical APIs. No way to open up Windows. And Longhorn’s headed down the pike, here to make our computing experience even more of a nightmare. Well, I decided to make my voice known on that decision too: I’m currently downloading a CloneCD copy of Age of Mythology, which I was going to actually buy. Makes me feel good about pirating Links 2003 too (and I never, EVER, pirate a copy of Links; I always go commercial).
GEE, THANKS, GUYS
And a big “f*ck you” to Boston College, Pitt, and Florida (always f*cking Florida involved in something…yeesh). We now face the spectre of seeing…oh, dear God…Ohio State possibly playing for a national championship. Of course, there’s one team to blame for that happening, and that’s Rutgers. How dare you not lay down and die against Miami until the fourth quarter?! Don’t you know you’re ruining a great national championship game by making the defenders look like complete bitches?
Speaking of college football, our favorite habitue of an Ivy League school, Elliot Olshansky, told me about a connection between college football and WWE that not even Jim Ross could cite, and that’s what the Dartmouth band did at halftime in the game against Harvard on Saturday. Here’s the full quote of the band’s speech during the halftime festivities:
The band would like to offer a sincere apology for all the times we’ve commented on the complete and utter worthlessness of a Harvard education. Maybe, just maybe, all those expensive TA’s are teaching the wayward Crimson youth something worthwhile.
Just consider Chris Nowinksi, an up and coming villain of World Wrestling Entertainment. A veteran of Harvard’s football team, Nowinski double-majored in “The Physics of Chair-to-head Collisions” and “The Economics of exploiting drunken rednecks.” Now that he’s in the spotlight, he proudly wears tight Crimson shorts with a white “H”, and shows his true Harvard spirit by substituting an illegal pair of brass knuckles for the slightest bit of wit or
talent.
In fact, Nowinski’s appearances are consistently greeted by cheers of “Harvard sucks,” proving beyond any doubt that wrestling fans aren’t as dumb as we thought.
Dartmouth has always been the one Ivy League school with a great sense of humor, and this sure as hell proves it.
And you need a great sense of humor to get through Raw these days, so let’s get right to it.
THE SHORT FORM
Keith and PK…oops, Jennette are in a statistical dead heat at the polls, while I’m the dark horse candidate coming up fast…
Match Results:
Three-Minute Warning over Deliverance 2002 (Pinfall, Jamal pins Hardy, Samoan Drop): Well, guess that Rosey and Jamal are serious now. They’ve got entrance music and chyron and all that, and they get to make Jeff Hardy into their bitch. Sorry, I’m not going to care until Rosey and Jamal pass the bar exam.
Trish Stratus over Ivory (Pinfall, bulldog): I wasn’t paying attention. But neither were Ross and Lawler, so I don’t feel too bad.
Lance Storm and Billy Brass Boot over Al Snow and Tommy Dreamer (Pinfall, Storm pins Dreamer, Regal kick to Dreamer’s temple): A very strange mixture of styles in this one. It was an old-school tag match (with a good demonstration by Snow of the art of selling and getting a body part worked over) that devolved into an ECW Lite tag match. Not great, but interesting booking from an intellectual standpoint.
Dave Batista over Justin Asshole (Pinfall, sit-out powerbomb): Haven’t I seen this before? Oh, yeah, back in 1994. Peej was the designated victim in jobber matches back then too. You know what the next step is, don’t you, Mister Former ECW World Champion? Yep, the yellow jockstrap’s coming out of storage.
Test over Hurricane Helms (Pinfall, swinging snap neckbreaker): Just goes to prove the old point: wherever there are Testicles, Shane Helms is sure to be there.
Rob Van Dam over Christian (Pinfall, Five-Star Frog Splash): The complete Van Dam-By-Numbers package here. Nothing worth talking about.
Kane and Booker T over Trip and Jericho (Pinfall, Booker pins Trip, Michaels superkick): Soooooo slow and dull, even FFing it didn’t help. And the sight of Kane playing Ricky Morton is just a wee bit disconcerting on any level you can think of.
Angle Developments:
Where’s Oogums?: Well, Raw’s in Boston. Funny, I don’t see anyone holding up an anti-Eric sign. Or heading around the area to find an eleventh signature to put on his petition to get me off 411. Or trolling around the outside of the Enema Company Center looking for a gun to shoot me with. Guess you were too busy at the police academy, huh, Jason Gallo?
I DON’T FORGET! And I’ve got your home phone number, bitch.
Memo To Jerry Lawler: Yes, we smarks know that you gave Hogan his start in Memphis. However, considering everything that’s happened since 1979, do you really want to take the credit for that?
Ride the Wild Ironies: Hearing Trip talk about how Bisch is screwing him over while Ric Flair is in the room…oh, it’s one of those smark moments when we feel sorry that the mark audience doesn’t get the subtext. However, there’s also a little fact that sorta supports my contention from last week involved here. Steph’s a f*cking camera hog. Even when the logistics prevent her from being on camera, she somehow becomes the center of attention. How egotistical is it to make yourself the object of a feud-by-proxy between the two highest-profile performers on Raw while you get to sit in your safe haven of Smackdown?
And If You Weren’t Disillusioned About Politics Before This…: Lance Storm was going to make a perfectly valid speech about going out to vote, and bitch-slapping people for not doing so like I do, when everything all goes to hell and we get the fact that WWE signed that walking toxic waste dump Scott Steiner to a contract shoved in our faces. Gee, thanks, WWE. Thanks for everything.
Shave Your Balls: No, I did not write that letter to My Beautiful and Beloved. However, the sentiment is gladly echoed. However, the haircut and tights change is a damn good idea. Gets him looking a lot less like Kevin Nash. Unfortunately, he now looks like what would have happened if Brock Lesnar had mated with Shawn Stasiak.
Oh, Shit, Maven’s Back: Well, Maven’s injury turned out to be simply a waiting game in order to get him in the obvious feud with Harvard. The promo, though, seemed like just another Tough Enough exercise. “Okay, Chris, you’re going to pretend to go out there and get some cheap heat by slamming the town you’re in. Maven, you’ll get some cheap face heat by doing the beatdown on Chris. Now go out there and make me proud!”
Late again, unfortunately. I’ll be back tomorrow with an election post-mortem and a Smackdown ante-mortem, among other things. Until that time, really, go out and vote.
About Eric Szulczewski
