Wrestling News, Opinions, Etc. 09.30.03


In Memoriam:  Althea Gibson.  Underrecognized for her accomplishments, and criminally so.  She deserves every bit of praise for inspiring girls from around the world, no matter their origin and culture, to take up tennis and take up sports in general.  By simply saying that there’d be no Williamses without Althea Gibson is disrespecting her tremendously.

And why the hell am I doing this column?  I’m moving in a day or two (and so is Slick Rick, for that matter, but he won’t have to suffer in Nebraska).  I should be packing or doing something constructive in that area rather than typing this in…

…in point of fact, I actually am.  This thing’s getting written between moments of putting things in cardboard.  Combine this with the fact that I am not watching Raw and will hence not comment about it, and it’s going to be a very disjointed column.  And a very short one.

Then again, I may end up commenting on Raw depending on how dead the f*cking Bears game is.  You never know.  So let’s crank whatever I have left up…


Nute crosses his legs and stretches his back muscles.

Memo to Carless:  1) There is nothing in Madam Butterfly about a woman having a penis.  Puccini’s going to bitch-slap you from his grave.  2) It’s pretty much a given that “Bitch of the Baskervilles” is as official a nickname for Steph as you’re going to get on 411, so you can cease your effort now.  3) You’re not funny.

Taylor doesn’t get pimped, and when you read his column, you’ll understand why.  I don’t pimp content as obscene as that.


Ah, I knew that someone would “call me out” on the fact that Flex’s piece of celluloid shit was #1 at the box office this weekend, and a retard named voyage35 did just that…

“This f*cker’s going to bomb, and bomb hard.  You all know it.  Now just admit it to yourselves.  Admitting it will set you free.  Give in to the hate.  You know you want to.  Flex, and anything he touches, must die.”

1. ‘The Rundown,’ $18.5 million

Good call, genius.  Now go find someone *else* more popular than you to pick on.

Let me guess, asshole:  you’re the type of guy who looks at ratings and compares them only to the week before, right?  The fact that a movie opens at #1 does not guarantee that it won’t be a bomb.  Want an example?  How about Dickie Roberts, to name the most recent?  It opened at #1, and it’s considered a bomb.

Care to look at it from this perspective, shithead?

1) This movie got saturation publicity, with Flex on all the talk shows, etc.  It opened against, essentially, nothing other than a chick flick, Under The Tuscan Sun.  And it only pulled in eighteen and a half.

2) It opened in 3152 theaters, and pulled in only eighteen and a half.  That’s under $6000 per theater.  Under The Tuscan Sun, a f*cking chick flick, pulled in a titch under $8000 per theater.

3) The week before, Underworld, in less theaters than the copro-film, pulled in twenty-one and a half for its opening weekend.

3a) The week before that, Once Upon A Time In Mexico, also in less theaters, pulled in twenty-three and a half for its opening weekend, and that was after Johnny Depp’s “puppy” statement.

4) For comparison, the biggest September opening weekend ever was for Sweet Home Alabama last year, and it grossed twice as much as his piece of crap.  The filmic dingleberry, in fact, only ranks tenth in terms of September openings all-time.

5) It’s been receiving only mediocre-to-good reviews from professional critics (ignore the asshole online fans and their opinions; I know I do, in more than just the movies), so it’s not going to have legs.  That’s exactly what happened with Underworld, which dropped by 57%.  I predict a 60% drop-off for the turd and a final gross of under $50 million.  It won’t make its cost back until the DVD release, if then.

6) A final gross of under $50 million for a movie this expensive with this much publicity spells “BOMB” by any standard.

So get a f*cking clue, jagoff, and look past this week’s figures into the past and future before you call me out on being “wrong”.  I AM NEVER FUCKING WRONG WHEN IT COMES TO SOMETHING DEALING WITH FLEX!


Alan Funk was seriously injured in a match Saturday in Helsinki.  According to 1bullshit, the former Kwee-Wee suffered a broken nose, broken eardrum, cracked orbital, and broken jaw while tagging with Mike Sanders against Sonny Siaki and Elix Skipper.  Because of the broken eardrum, Finnish doctors are forbidding him to fly back to the States for treatment, so he’s going to be stuck in Helsinki for a while.  I like Alan Funk, and I’ve always thought he had a lot of potential, so this is bad news.  The injuries are said to be severe enough that he might have to quit the business.

If that’s the case, here’s a suggestion, Alan:  stay there, get Finnish citizenship, then run for political office.  It worked for Ludvig Borga, didn’t it?


So WWE gave about eighty thousand bucks to families of members of the Armed Forces killed in the repulsive action in Iraq.  Big f*cking whoop.  After the exploitation of wounded soldiers that was done on the Washington Raw, this just adds on to the view that WWE cynically manipulates what it believes to be public opinion for good publicity, and does it in a very public manner.  They’re embarassing.

However, there were good intentions behind the effort.  It was spearheaded by Shawn Michaels.  Michaels is an Air Force brat, so he knows probably better than anyone what the families of the unnecessarily-murdered-by-the-Junta are going through right now.  There’s some heart behind this move, but the results are so disturbing and propagandistic that it sours the whole effort.

You want to do something for the troops?  Fine, do so.  But do it quietly and don’t use them to bolster your sad-ass public image, Vince.

Speaking of sad-ass public images, time to watch the double action from Chicago.  The Bears are at Area 51 on the lakefront, the WWE coming in live from Rosemont to the northwest of said…


Speaking of Jim Mitchell’s penis, what I want to know is whether or not Mitchell’s better-hung than Eric Embry, who set the standard in that area for white guys in wrestling.  Now that’d be investigative reporting, Hyatte.

Oh, God, the opening of the show has Jim Belushi kick-dancing with Mike Ditka.  The game doesn’t have to kill me.  That just did the job nicely, thank you.

Dick Butkus looks like a walking corpse.  Gale Sayers looks like he could be starting tonight.  In fact, he should.

Donald Driver held on Ahman Green’s first touchdown.  Period.

17-0 after one…oh, f*ck, what’s on Raw?  Oh, shit, Maven, Jindrak, and Cade, American Heroes.  Let’s suffer with the game for a while longer…

Oh, shit, Jeff Triplett’s reffing the game.  The biggest retard in stripes in NFL history handling a Bears game.  That’s appropriate.

Jesus Christ, can’t the Oreo do anything to stop Green?  The only way the Bears’ D is going to get any kind of respect is if Urlacher f*cks Paris Hilton at the fifty-yard-line during the halftime show.  Actually, Paris Hilton seems like a good ol’ rich girl.  She might just do it.  And after the Favre-to-Henderson touchdown, that may be the only thing keeping me watching.

60-yard touchdown run for Thomas…oops, holding on David “Everyone From Michigan Who Goes To The Bears Sucks” Terrell.  That just about sums up the Bears’ season.  And it’s still the first half.

Well, nothing in the third quarter…

…and A-Train got that run back.  And has a hundred on the night.  Geez, considering the Bears are only averaging a hundred yards of offense a game, I thought I’d never see a hundred-yard rusher this year.  Thank God for small miracles.

What a surprise.  It was a bullshit ticky-tack pass interference call that took the Bears out of it once and for all.  The f*cking zebras must die.  But not before Kordell and John Shoop.  Dick Jauron’s already Dead Man Walking anyway, so he’s immune.


Did Big Sump Pump just turn heel by mauling My Beautiful and Beloved?  Stacy, darling, I told you this would happen.  There’s only one man who will care for you and treat you like the precious jewel you are, and you know it.  Just call me and tell me when.  You know the new number.

Asketh the Ravin’ Cajun:  By the way, I know Big Sump Pump was on your shit list before now. Is he back on the Hit List again, rejoining the likes of Austin, Nash, Hogan et al after besmirching Your Beautiful And Beloved?

He’s always been on the Hit List.  The only problem is that I haven’t found a gun powerful enough to push a poison dart through his skin.

Mixed feelings concerning the whole Kane/Novocaine Helms thing.  I’m not that enamored with Kane right now, and a bit bored by his routine, but I don’t approve of sticking him again with Helms.  He doesn’t deserve that.  Just have him beat up little children instead.  That brat in the front row looked like he deserved it.

Memo to thetruth.com:  I am an expert in standards and labeling.  If cigarettes were a meat product, they still wouldn’t have to contain an ingredients statement.  You know why?  Because they have one f*cking ingredient:  tobacco.  Well, if you don’t smoke menthols like I do, there’s only one ingredient.  But it isn’t the ingredients that are the problem, it’s the by-products produced when you light up.  So aren’t you being a bit disingenuous with your panic marketing?

Would you say that Garrison Cade invoked Godwin’s Law by citing the fact that France laid down in WWII?  If so, shouldn’t that invalidate the match since the argument was over?

Not the Bounty Angle.  Oh, please, not the Bounty Angle.  Don’t you bring that one out when you’ve just about given up on trying to find things to do?  But, quoth the Ravin’ Cajun:

So, Trips is offering one hundred grand to the person who takes out Goldberg? I don’t know what’s worse- the fact that this kind of stupidity makes absolute sense for the character, or that somewhere out there in the real world there is someone out there who hears the offer, and decides to take him up on it. I can hear the sound of the police reports, lawsuits and career-ending injuries to Goldberg no- wait.

Career ending… injuries.

Uhm, who can I call about this? Sounds like a win-win to me once I think about it.

I’m sure that the WWE will have set up a toll-free number by now for people volunteering to take out Goldie.  You know, 1-866-DIE-BILL or something like that.  Man, if I’m the Bitch of the Baskervilles, I’m pissed.  I’m sure that the couple’s love nest/Circle Of Hell could have used that hundred grand for some redecorating.

Ah, shit, I forgot they were doing the Reinstate Ross and Lawler angle tonight.  And in a strap match, no less.  I’m sure that the Marquis de Sade didn’t talk about this one in One Hundred Twenty Days Of Sodom.  However, if His Grace had had Snow and Jericho calling the action, it might have been a lot more fun.  Certainly this was.  Damn, I was hoping Jericho would have pulled a mention of the fact that he made his WWF/E debut in That Very Building on August 9th, 1999.  Chicago will always love Jericho for that night, you know.

So, now with the Evil Chick Alliance officially containing Victoria, does Ivory come in to balace the sides or does Jackie?  And why should we care?

Memo to Teddy Long:  You’re not too proud to take the white man’s money, are you?  Hypocrite.

Considering that a Ladder Match, by nature, is a spot-fest, I actually thought that the match was less spotty than your average Rob Van Dam match.  Not bad, guys, not bad at all.  Lots of dead spots, but that’s only because we’re used to seeing TLCs featuring multiple opponents.  This was a nice little throwback.  They even got the simultaneous-climb sequence in, and turned it into a nice transition sequence.  Bravo to both.

Now, I’m not going to be in tomorrow so that I can finish this shit up and get to Nebraska by Friday morning.  Just a reminder:  do not write me after Tuesday night.  I’ll be closing this e-mail account as soon as the movers get the f*ck out of here.  Next week, I’ll be back, watching Raw, and possessing a new e-mail address.  Until then, I’ll see you in State Number Four in less than two years of writing here.