Wrestling News, Opinions, Etc. 11.26.02


He can’t even run his own life
I’ll be damned if he’ll run mine

– Jonathan Edwards, “Sunshine”

That goes out to my boss, who ruined the first Saturday I had off in Hyatte knows how long by calling me up at 7:30 in the f*cking morning to ask me the password to my computer because he needed to print a file on there.  I swear I’m going to change my password to “cramitupyourass” or “gosuckdogdick” for the next time this happens.  And, believe me, it will happen.  I have infinite faith in the stupidity of other human beings, especially those I work with.  Although that might not be for long…


Yes, and thank you for asking.  The interview was very good indeed.  The pre and apres, however, taught me a few lessons:

1) When you’re getting your oil changed and you’re in a hurry, the words “You know your transmission pan’s leaking fluid?” will somehow crop up.  The Damn Vaninator’s tranny had two missing bolts on the pan, every other bolt loose, a shot gasket, and a clogged filter (and the sight of me banging my head against a wall must have been so entertaining to the technicians).  That being said, kudos to the guys at the quick-change oil place near my apartment, who even replaced the two missing bolts for no extra charge when they did the tranny job.

2) Never drive through Dixon, Illinois if you’re a registered Democrat.  Half the town is geared toward “Ronald Reagan’s Childhood Home” tourism bullshit.  To me, that’s like Halberstadt, Germany drumming up tourist euros by posting “Childhood Home of Martin Bormann” signs.

3) Never drive through Middle Of Fucking Nowhere, Iowa in the dark if you’ve never driven that route before.  You WILL miss a turn somewhere.  And when you’re trying to make up the time you lost by missing that turn, you WILL get stuck behind a combine in a No Passing zone.

4) When you need to get back to catch some much needed Zs before going to work the next morning, you WILL get caught in the first large snowstorm of the season, which will turn your five-hour trip into a seven-hour trip before you can say “Jack Frost nipping at your balls”.

By the way, if a Sunday job interview sounds strange to you, it’s not strange if the company you’re interviewing with is owned by Orthodox Jews.

So that was my weekend.  At least it was better than Flea’s.  Well, I do have to hand it to him in one respect:  his mother isn’t playing the Merry Widow and blowing his chance for financial independence like mine is.


You think that I’ve been a little harsh on the Department of Homeland Fascism?  You should have been listening to our inspector today.  The USDA’s Food Safety and Inspection Service, which provides necessary guarantees that the meat products you eat won’t kill you after three bites (my ass they do), will be transitioned into the Sicherheitdienst, and every word out of our inspector’s mouth was some sort of obscenity directed at Dubbaya and his goose-stepping Attorney General.  Essentially, what’s going to happen to meat inspection, like any other agency ram-rodded into this abortion of Constitutional Democracy, is that it’ll become a sewer of patronage instead of civil service, where there are, like, qualifications to do the job required somewhere in the job description.

Now, normally, I’m a big fan of patronage, being a product of Mayor Daley’s Chicago.  Patronage, after all, helps grease the wheels of governmental progress by providing an outlet for drunk brothers-in-law, useless cousins, and other lower forms of life.  However, when you’re going to land up with a bunch of meat inspectors who can’t tell beef from chicken, that’s where I draw the line.  At least their Chinamen know what pork is.


Fuck you, Michigan.

Hey, give me time, and I can hook Ohio State AND Dubbaya into all of those victory riots that took place on campuses this weekend.


What the hell is it with the coaches in the NFC North?  Mike Tice looks like a guy recovering from electroshock.  Dick Jauron has the personality of a garden snail.  Marty Moron-weg proved his razor-sharp coaching skills yet again (Letting the defense lay down and die and enabling the Bears to convert on 4th and 20?  NOT TAKING THE FUCKING BALL WHEN WINNING THE TOSS IN OVERTIME?!; please note, he almost blew the first game against the Bears this season, but got very, very lucky).

And now Mike Sherman decides to pick a fight with Warren Sapp.  Let’s see, small coach antagonizes a very large and mean defensive lineman.  This had no chance of ending without Sherman being turned into a smear across Raymond James Stadium had fate and a bunch of players not intervened.  Kudos to the Fuckin’ Queers for beating the FudgePackers, but Sapp should have taken out his frustrations on Favre.  Especially since the Bears have to go to Lambeau next week.

And speaking of taking out frustrations, it’s time for Raw.


Keith and Jennette have the good stuff for you.  Me, I’m too goddamn trashed to do anything important.

Match Results:

Chris Jericho and Christian over Buh Buh Ray and D-Von Dudley, De Facto Two Out Of Three Falls Match (Submission, Jericho makes Buh Buh Ray submit, Walls of Jericho):  Okay, now that everyone has stopped bitching about opening twenty-minute promos, here comes the bitching about twenty-minute opening matches.  You know it’s coming, folks.  However, Sean Morley interruptions are a nice substitution for the standard restholds.

Test over Stevie Richards (Pinfall, Test’s Twisty Thingy):  Can you imagine the discussion before this match?  “No, really, Andrew, sell some of Stevie’s offense…we know it’s difficult, but…look, it’ll help the face turn if you do it…no, we’ll still respect you in the morning…”  Seeing Stevie get offense in is like seeing porno pics of Laura Bush:  very disconcerting to say the least.

Victoria over Trish Stratus (Pinfall, Widow’s Peak):  Keith will give this the usual two-snowflake maximum he reserves for women’s matches.  However, I have to commend them on the enthusiasm that they put into their matches with each other.  Yeah, they blow the occasional spot or two, but they’re having fun in there and they involve the audience in their matches.  What the hell more can we ask for?

The Commonwealth Connection over the Folsom Street Fairies (Submission, Helms submits to Storm, Sharpshooter):  Well, Lance, glad you figured out that grabbing both legs makes a submission move more effective.  I was very surprised that Regal was able to keep up with all of these guys.  Normally, his methodical pace makes him look like a slug compared to a Jeff Hardy.  Not this time.  He meshed perfectly with the rest of the gang, and a nice little tag match resulted.

Batistia over Kane (Pinfall, sit-out powerbomb):  Gee, remember Reverend D-Von and Deacon Batista on Smackdown?  Move them over to Raw, and you get one of them in a twenty-minute opening match, and the other gets to pal around with Flair and beat the shit out of Kane.  Amazing how Raw is so successful with Smackdown’s reclamation projects.  Now if they can be successful with something else, maybe there’s something worth watching.

Goldust over Rico (Pinfall, facebuster):  So, with Booker out with a touch of Bangalore Belly, can his tag partner hold up in a substitute match against Rico instead of a tag team confrontation with the larger members of Three-Minute Warn…hold it, both matches are useless.  Who cares?

Shawn Michaels over Rob Van Dam, World Title Match (DQ, Trip-ference):  I don’t know what’s more mind-blowing:  writing a decision header using the name “Shawn Michaels” or seeing mat wrestling and psychology in a Rob Van Dam match.  Adequate match with great crowd heat.

Now, let’s talk about Trip.  The more I think about it, the more I believe the guy needs to see a shrink.  His need for attention is close enough to being a pathological obsession that he really needs some professional help.  I think he’s got a fear of rejection and obscurity that’s so deeply rooted that it’s overriding his judgement, including his sexual desire.  Does he really have affection toward Steph, or is he just making the beast with two backs with her to protect his own visibility.  It’s not a power trip with him; it’s a survival instinct.  If he isn’t on camera, does he exist?  Apparently, in his own mind, he doesn’t.  So, Trip, if you’re reading this, get some help.  I did, and it hasn’t harmed me in the least.

Angle Developments:

Wasn’t “Chief Of Staff” A Val Venis Joke?:  Okay, Morley’s doing well so far, so I’m cutting him some slack.  The one important factor, though, is that he has to stay a tweener to compliment Bischoff.  If he goes face or heel, it’ll throw the dynamic of the key piece of Raw so far out of whack that the show might not be able to recover.  So he’s really walking a tightrope with this one.  He hasn’t shown that he can pull this off successfully (although he hasn’t really been given the chance to show he can, though, being stuck in a pair of caricatures doing most of his WWE tenure), so I’m going to leave it at “the jury’s still out”.

Ass Cream?:  Is that trademarked?  If not, would it be too generic to trademark?  I’m not going to talk about the sketch that Ass Cream (tm pending) revolved around, since it’s far too Porky’s for my taste, but Ass Cream might just be Mister Socko 2003 if played right.

I’m going to bed right now.  Tomorrow, I’ll talk more about my opinion vis-a-vis Austin, there’s going to be Smackdown Somewhat Spoiled, and a nice, big You’re A Moron.  So until then, hope you can hold yourselves in check.