Wrestling News, Opinions, Etc. 03.18.03


Well the South side of Chicago
Is the baddest part of town
And if you go down there
You better just beware
Of a man named…

Memo to the spirit of Jim Croce:  It sure as hell ain’t Leroy Brown.

In Memoriam:  Joe Coors, the man who revived the old tradition of combining beer with goose-stepping.

In Memoriam II (MIA but presumed dead):  Paul Stojanovich, the man who was able to deter more young people from becoming police officers than anyone else by showing them what a thankless, sucky job it is.

In Memoriam III:  Major Ronald Ferguson, without whom the world wouldn’t have Fergie to laugh at.


Here’s how the conversation went on Friday morning:

“We’re not sure we want to move you here because there’s problems with you and your boss.”

“Well, that kinda fits in with my plans, because I definitely don’t want to stay here and work for him.”

And so that ended that mess, thus making my hiatus here into f*ck all.  Got my money from the creeps and pissed off to Chicago on Friday night.  Apparently, there was only room for one megalomaniac on the Quality Control staff there, and that job was already taken (besides, the son of a bitch screamed at me twice, and that’s not how you treat subordinates).  Plus, there was the fact that the job really was impossible due to the complete apathy and intertia that I mentioned last week.  I show off by accomplishing the near-impossible, but I know when I’ve been beaten and I don’t bother wasting my energy in an exercise of futility.  Hercules needed to change the direction of a river to clean the Augean Stables, but that dump of a plant wouldn’t have been cleaned if I diverted the Great Lakes through there.

So here’s the situation as it stands as of Monday afternoon:

My old employer doesn’t necessarily have a slot for me right now, since they hired the three people it took to replace me.  However, they’ve put in a good word with the computer consulting firm that they’re using to see if they can slot me in as a contractor, and they have beaucoup openings.  They were damn happy to see me, though, and if I get through the interview that I have with the consultant on Wednesday morning, I’ll be spending a lot of time there doing billable hours.

However, I definitely want a slot back at the plant when it opens up (which should be in a few weeks, knowing them), because as a freelancer, bennies are nonexistent, and I do need my medical insurance, because…

I have an appointment with my shrink next Tuesday.

I have a recruiter trying to fix me up with some pork place in the Southeast, or a sanitation supervisor slot on the South Side of Chicago (no, it’s not janitorial, and it pays great).  Always have Plan C in place, youngsters.

I was savvy enough to take the majority of my clothes back here, along with the TV and VCR.  Unfortunately, my apartment in Iowa still contains my kitchen.  This puts me in a nasty situation, because my coffee is in Chicago and my coffee maker is in Iowa.  Considering the amount of coffee that I drink, I fear withdrawl symptoms.

If I can swing a position immediately, I can stay in my current residence (I found out that they hadn’t rented my apartment out yet).  If not, I have to move to Iowa ASAP (my lease runs out in two weeks), since I can survive for a few more months out there than I can here due to cost of living and the only place to shop being Wal-Mart.  This will necessitate a third U-Haul experience, and I’d rather have colon polyps removed by Jeff Hardy’s tongue than do that.  And the actual experience of living in Iowa…well, we went through that little nightmare last week.

Oh, yeah, here’s another factor that made my decision to tell them to go to hell much easier:  I finally saw my neighbor.  You know, the guy with the pickup that hasn’t been washed since Carter was president and had the drained case of Milwaukee’s Best in the bed.  Let me describe him.  Stringy mullet that also hasn’t been washed since the Carter Administration.  Ditto his jeans, which had so much grease on them that they could repel water in a hurricane.  Tats all over his arms.  Droopy mustache.  Looks like he did five to ten somewhere and just got out.  Destined to look like the guy who kidnapped Elizabeth Smart in twenty years.  Expression on his face like he was drunk or high heading into work.  And somehow he attracted a woman who would mate with him.  I’m sorry, I don’t handle trailer trash very well.  It’s mostly because I fear that it might be contagious.

That being said, happy belated St. Patrick’s Day and Happy Purim to everyone.  You know, I would have had off today anyway, but who cares?  I’m happy facing the prospect of working for people who actually want me to do my job.

Okay, let’s see what’s going on.


And what exactly do you suspect from the newest fan of the Dixie Chicks?

I do have mixed feelings.  The skyrocket in the market yesterday does give my mutual fund a glow.  However…

Well, the call’s out from the gummint for “unity in this time of crisis”.  However, the person saying that the loudest is Tom DeLay, who I wouldn’t believe if he said that the sun was going to rise the next morning.  Daschle’s semi-muted blast was nice to hear, despite the fact that he voted out of panic for the authorization of force resolution in October.  It’s pretty much a certainty now, so there’s no use bitching about it, I guess.

My problem with this is that it’s turned into The Imbecile Who Cried Wolf.  Jesus, J-Lo’s had three marriages and divorces since Dubbaya spun September 11th into this bullshit.  Since this mess has started, Claritin’s gone OTC and spun off imitators and generics.  Steve Austin had his final tantrum, beat his wife, and come back.  Bill Clinton would have got hummers from a half-dozen interns in this amount of time.  This has been one of the most extended military cock-teases in the history of warfare, and that includes the days when it took messengers three weeks to deliver dispatches.  When it happens, we’ll be amazed that he actually started the war.

And then came the shits and giggles of Dubbaya’s speech.  The first thing I tried to figure out was what he was on.  I came to the conclusion that it was Xanax.  With the weird blinking patterns, I thought it might have been methaqualone, but ‘Ludes wreck your speech and he was reading the teleprompter correctly.

Then there were the fun statements he made.  He referred to “the United States and their allies” about eight billion times, but then he made flesh the Republican Dream:  he told the UN to go f*ck off, thus making the statement that the United States has no allies, at least none with spiffy-neato weaponry except for the Brits.  Then he tells the Iraqi people that, if they don’t do anything to support Saddam, we’ll airdrop them food and medicine (And what was the first thing he mentioned?  Don’t blow up the oil wells.  Did anyone expect him not to say that?).  Uh, didn’t the US ask for and get a boycott of that stuff after the last mess?  And, of course, Dubbaya’s famous subtlety was evident, telling the Iraqi army to pull a coup or they’re f*cked big-time.

Now, as for the forty-eight hour deadline…you know, Santayana is rolling around in his grave.  Sure, get Hussein out of the country and get him into exile, all while he has large support inside the country.  Does the name “Khomeini” mean anything to anyone?  Exiled leaders in Arab countries have a tendency to pop back up when you least expect them unless they turn into fat drunken f*cks boning their way through ten women a day like King Farouk of Egypt.  There’s only one option here if this thing’s on:  kill the son of a bitch, whether it be by American bombs or Iraqi firing squad.

The speech proved that the spin control has worked and that a portion of Americans are totally buffaloed by it (I’ll see if I can pull the e-mail from the Shitty Laptop to construct a You’re A Moron tomorrow consisting of some of those mails I received last week from said bison).  Al-Qaeda was mentioned once, September 11th not at all.  He’s successfully driven the focus away from the War On Terrorism to the War On States That Might Be Supporting Terrorism, But We’re Not Exactly Sure To What Extent.  I think it’s insulting to the American people to think that once we ended the bombings in Afghanistan and got the Taliban the hell out of the government that it was suddenly switch-partners time, and the American people would buy it.  It’s the same type of contempt that allows for a John Ashcroft to hold the AG’s office and for there to even be a Department of Homeland Security.  This isn’t being partisan, this is being a member of the American public who’s sick and tired of politicos playing games with human lives to prove they’ve got big swinging dicks.

In the meantime, I think I’ll take the same stand as Vladimir Putin:  I’m not in favor, but I won’t veto it in the Security Council.


The guy who played Ludvig Borga in the WWF was just elected to Finland’s parliament…hold it, I actually liked Ludvig Borga, so no jokes about this one.


God knows who put it up first, but I read it at the Torch, so I’ll credit them.  According to whomever, Flair and Bischoff somehow brought up those nasty little legit spats they had in WCW to each other again about Bisch’s treatment of Flair (you know the ones, the ones that led up to Flair pulling an Austin and filing a lawsuit).  Well, the verbal spat got physical, with throwings of punches involved.  Of course, Arn Anderson decided to be peacemaker on this one, thus showing that he lost some of his grey matter with his hair, seeing as he’s Flair’s best friend and all.  Of course the second, he ended up getting involved in the argument.  According to Da Meltz’s inside sources, it was Flair who could be heard yelling first about Bisch screwing Arn, himself, and everybody, in that order.

They’ll all be meeting with the Cesare and Lucrezia Borgia of the WWE to explain their actions and beg forgiveness.  Of course, they’re pretty much immune from punishment.  AA may be their best road agent and does on-camera; Flair’s hooked with Trip and Trip knows he needs him right now; and Bisch is one of the few reasons people actually watch Raw.  So it’ll be a slap on the wrist and nothing more will be said.  Until the next time a WCW veteran brings up how shitty he was treated by Bisch, and more punches are thrown.  Anyone want to put money on Booker?


It was announced that Heat will be officially moving to TNN on April 6th.  Preliminary indications, according to Da Meltz, will be that Cole and Tazz will be announcing, so this might be Smackdown’s way of penetrating TNN.  Who knows, who cares.

And now it’s time for the traditional Monday festivities…


Another episode of Raw, another pimp for Wrestlemania.  Yee hah.

Match Results:

Rob Van Dam and Kane over Sean Morley and Lance Storm (Pinfall, Kane pins Storm, chokeslam):  This is what?  The third?…fourth?…week in a row that the Hungry Hungry Hippos have curtain-jerked?  And why exactly is Morley teaming with Storm while Regal’s injured?  To keep Storm in front of the camera or to get any ring rust he might have left off, or both?  It’s worth thinking about that rather than the match, which was strictly a tag-by-numbers affair.  Same old shit, different week.

Maven over Rico (Pinfall, backslide):  I think I’m starting to feel bad for Maven.  No one gets out of a feud with Three-Moron Warning and lives to tell about it.

Hurricane Helms over Rodney Mack (DQ, Rocky-ference):  Both performers have delusions of adequacy.  So did this match.

Victoria and Stevie Richards over Trish Stratus and Jazz (Pinfall, Victoria pins Stratus, Widow’s Peak):  They have a couple of options at this point.  One is to stick with the status quo in the women’s division.  The other is to turn Jazz.  Think about this:  Stratus has been carrying the face side of the women’s division essentially by herself (they throw in Jackie now and then just to seem like there’s another important woman face).  Victoria has the same capability to carry the heel side of the women’s division by herself (with throwing in Molly Holly now and then viz. Jackie).  Turning Jazz would provide Victoria with an opponent other than Stratus, and Jazz is ready-made for the face side (she can easily do “The Bitch Is Back” as a catchphrase as good as Booker can do “Can you dig that, sucka”).  I’m thinking a Jazz turn might be worth a shot.  If it doesn’t work, she can be turned back without any damage.

Chris Crass over Test and…oh, f*ck, Big Sump Pump (Pinfall, Jericho pins Test, rollup):  Oh, yuck!  Oh, My Beautiful and Beloved, please don’t tell me your lips touched any part of the anatomy of Scott Steiner!  You are going to have a full teeth cleaning and set of rabies shots before you come home to Daddy, young lady!

Trip over Goldust, Non-Title Match (Pinfall, Pedigree):  Well, we know that Randy Orton’s crutch is at 50%.

Steve Austin over Eric Bischoff, No-DQ Match (Pinfall, Stunner):  There were two insults in this match:  1) To the audience’s collective intelligence and 2) that a Miller product was being consumed in St. Louis.

Angle Developments:

Familiarity Breeds Turns:  So, can anyone figure out where they’re heading with the Dudleys, other than the same old “to get yours, go along” routine?  No matter what, it’s not going to reignite any interest in them.  They brought them back together in order to save D-Von from the solo hell he was put in on Smackdown while Buh Buh Ray was getting over big-time in singles on Raw.  Now, by doing that, they’ve torpedoed the Dudz completely.  The only thing that might save them now is an injury to one of them so that, when they come back, they’ll be a little fresher to the audience instead of being a year past their sell-by date.

Going Bust:  It was terrific to see Trip and Flair completely lose it (legitimately; you can’t fake a reaction like that) with Dustin’s Tourette’s routine and then try to recover (which they abjectly failed at).  The whole promo was a lot more fun than anything Trip’s done mic-wise over the last nine months or so.  If anyone knows the value of comedy relief, it should be Trip.  DX wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did if they weren’t so funny, after all.  Of course, we smarks got a little satisfaction out of seeing Flair lay into Goldie as revenge for the sins of the father.  Now if they can get a tag match out of the way before WM, I, for one, will be happy.

Memo To Jeff Hardy:  You’re not fooling anyone, you know.

And that’s it until tomorrow, when we’ll still have a little time left before the bombing starts.  Let sanity prevail, either way.