Bad Boys...

So, back in the 80s, and to a lesser extent these days, it was hip to introduce a new wrestler, or a new tag team, with a really cool music video.

it was the time of MTV, and Pro Wrestling has always tried its damnedest to catch on with whatever was hot and hip at the moment.

Sometimes, these videos really did the trick, and the fans immediately got into the wrestler.

And sometimes, they left the viewer going "What the FUCK was that?"

This was probably one of them. But the 80s were weird, so you can't be sure. Now though, looking back, it certainly makes ME go "what the FUCK?!?!"

Bear with the boring announcer who spends about 45 seconds droning on about the video, which introduces the team of "The New Generation," featuring Mark Batten and Johnny Wilhoit, who probably went onto very different careers shortly after this video aired.

Please, watch the whole thing, even if you're not a wrestling fan. trust me. Oh yea, and the soundtrack pretty much cinches the fact that if i didn't know this was a pro wrestling promo, i'd wonder if it was for something else altogether..

Black Dog...

i hate people. let me say that right now. and let me repeat it. i hate people.

but if you're one of those people i love, and news stories on brutality to animals really bothers you, do not follow this link.

i won't go into the details, except for the fact that there are six less wonderful puppies in this world.

Fortunately, the mother of the puppies, as well as another dog, a beautiful black lab mix, will survive the brutal attack.

The girl and i have a wonderful black lab mix, and i think we'd be lost without our wonderful, wonderful puppydog.

Anyway, it looks like the attacks may have been done by kids - teenagers. well, frankly, i don't care. i could not give a rat's ass.

i hope they go to prison, i hope they go for a long time, and i hope they get ass raped. often.

Thank You.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Ole Oak Tree...

In today's Theatre of the Absurd -

Singaporean thumbs mobile phone record -

apparently, a 23-year old woman named Kimberly Yeo recently SHATTERED the world record for sending a text message over the phone, when she thumbed (yep, apparently she didn't type, she "thumbed") the 67-word phrase "The razor-toothed piranhas of the genera Serrasalmus and Pygocentrus are the most ferocious freshwater fish in the world. In reality they seldom attack a human," in a scant 43.24 seconds.

The previous record was 67 seconds, meaning that not only did Yeo best the previous record by nearly 24 seconds, but that she is either a thumb-athlete of historic proportions, or she has way too much time to spend thumbing messages into a handheld device.

Apparently, text messaging is a way of life in Singapore. 80 percent of the country's residents have cell phones, and the most extensive phone system in the country handles a whopping NINE MILLION TEXT MESSAGES PER DAY!!! Per Day!!! Of those, Yeo is responsible for about 50 per day. FIFTY PER DAY!!! Per Day!!!

And this, from a country where it was illegal to chew gum until very recently.

Granted, Yeo's nimble thumbs will pay off for her. She was awarded a prize of S$17,500, which translates to over US$10,000 for those of you who don't know the conversion rate off the top of their heads.

Now, if only her wrists were as speedy as her thumbs, she'd have men lining up to be her boyfriend.
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Python Surprises Man Driving Rental Car -

Not really much to say on this, other than the fact that it seems like every other week, there's some sort of snake story.

Couple discovers snake in swimming pool; Man finds snake in washing machine; Dachshund devoured by family python; Woman watches as snake slithers from faucet head; Man discovers snake while sitting on the john; Millions in shock as snake elected U.S. President.
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Squirrel Steals Yellow Ribbons from Tree -

Damnit. Give me back my fucking ribbons.

Ok, seriously. I hate those damned ribbons. I really do. I mean, it seems like those things go up anytime we want to support anything. Not only is it a direct rip-off of a crappy middle-of-the-road pop song from the 1970s, but those ribbons usually end up getting left up around some beautiful tree, stunting its growth.

Or, if it some how falls from the tree, it ends up helping to pollute the planet. Either way, you people who are putting those ribbons up are NOT helping the greater good!

So, the way I look at it, those pesky squirrels are heroes - of Rocky proportions. Rocky of Rocky & Bullwinkle fame (warning to those at work or in other places where sound is an issue - when this link loads up, the webpage starts off with a loud Bullwinkle phrase), not Rocky of boxing fame. Although he's cool too. But he's not a squirrel, so get with the program.

Seriously though, we Americans put ribbons around trees for every damned reason imaginable. Save this. Save that. Support this. Support that. Eat this. Don't eat that. Am I the only one who thinks it's damned tiresome.

Besides, kind of like pro wrestling, it's just another display of latent homosexuality. I mean, the ribbon code just allows people who think they're straight to display their true tendencies, hoping their friends don't realize they're just imitating the so-called Gay Hanky code.

Time to face the facts folks - by putting up ribbons those yellow ribbons to support the troops, you're secretly admitting that you're either a pisser, or a piss pig. It just depends which way you tie the knot.

Insane in the Brain...

so, i mean, seriously. is it just me, or is it getting more and more scary how dillusional our current presidential regime is.

I mean, first they proclaimed you couldn't throw a donkey in Iraq without hitting a Weapon of Mass Destruction. Of course, none have been found thus far. And i'm not talking about donkeys.

Next came the claim of Saddam Hussein and Al-Queda pretty much being in bed together. although that has largely been disproven, and the only bedding of Saddam occurred by South Park Satan, Bush and his cronies still claim the Al-Queda connection as fact.

and finally, on Irish television yesterday, GW Bush (who is also known by his Native American name "Half-witted Fool Running on Empty), proclaimed that Europe supports the War in Iraq.

I suppose he missed those tens of millions of people protesting the war, and that little thing that happened in Spain when the Prime Minister lost his job because of his support of the war.

Half-witted Fool Running on Empty, if the people of *THIS* country, the United States, have any brains themselves, Jose Maria Aznar won't be the only world leader who lost his country's national election because of the War in Iraq.

the people won't have it GW, it's time for you to go.

Talking Loud and Saying Nothing...

it's been a few days since i've updated. not real sure why, but probably because i've been staying up later than i should be the past few nights. i think it's making my creativity suffer...i dunno...maybe? zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz *snork*

oh. sorry. i dozed. seriously. i'm pretty freakin' tired. that's gotta be the reason.

i mean, there's a ton going on. and i'm just talking about my NEXT wrestling road trip, hoping a train to Jersey where my buddy Matty is picking me up as we drive on down to Philly on Thursday...

i'm talking about more of this fucking craziness on the planet.

another hostage got beheaded in Iraq. His name is Kim Sun-il and he is South Korean. That's more blood on your hands, GW Bush.

and apparently Bush claimed the right to waive anti-torture laws and treaties covering prisoners of war a couple of years ago after we invaded afghanistan.

i mean, aren't we supposed to be the good guys??

meanwhile, as people are dying, our Senate today approved significantly higher fines for indecency on TV and Radio.

Guess we need to pay for our wars somehow.

Stories and Alibis...

so, i was really hoping to do this whole thing without some of that "this is who i am and this is what i like and blah blah blah" crap.

damnit. the best laid plans of mice and men.

as i was playing around with the html coding - and let's call a spade a spade, i don't know squat about html except what i've learned in the past week while tooling around with the template on this thing - it occurred to me that this blog probably has some people wondering why there is all this pro wrestling iconography intermingled with some semi-left wing political ramblings.

ok. in a nutshell. i am a pro wrestling fan. i grew up in Texas, and i think a rite of passage for most males in the south is to "go to the rasslin' matches." the majority of men eventually grow out of it. the rest of us? well, i won't judge.

i'm also a politics fan, and the older i've gotten, the more left leaning i've gotten. as much as i hate to admit it, the first presidential election i ever voted in was George Bush Sr vs. Michael Dukakis. And i did what any 18-year-old college freshman in Texas would have done. i voted for the fine gentleman from the state of Texas, the future president of the United States, Mr. George Herbert Walker Bush.

i was 18. i was raised and living in Texas. What the hell did i know? i sure didn't know the issues. i just voted for the guy from Texas. seriously. that's what they teach you in Texas. Did you know that in High School geography in Texas they teach you that Texas is bigger than every other state and Alaska doesn't count because it ain't co-neck-ted to the rest of the con-tin-ent-al ewe-ni-ted states? I mean, it's all Texas, all the time. Texas, Texas, Texas!!!!!!!!!!!

i'm sorry. i apologize. i can never apologize enough. i feel personally responsible for helping make the Bushes into an even more powerful political family, and probably helping get the family retard, GW Bush Jr, elected as the 43rd President of the United States.

ok. shut up. i said i'm sorry. shut up. jeez. it was half my life ago. ok? i screwed up!

ugh.

anyway. where were we? Oh yea. Professional wrestling.

There's a small bit of wrestling iconography on the page. They are relevant, and for the moment, not just chosen at random. i'll probably add more. and i'll probably have some journal entries about my wrestling adventures.

heck, just last week i road tripped with some friends all the way from Queens, New York (where i live now) to Dayton, Ohio for some wrestling matches. Saw an all-time classic too. The beloved Samoa Joe defended his Ring of Honor World Title against the brash upstart, CM Punk in a 60-minute time limit draw. Seriously. These guys destroyed each other for 60 minutes. it was incredible.

oh. what? ok. yea. sorry again. i got distracted. back to the icons on the page.

Leading off the title of each entry is a small illustration i swiped from a site called kayfabe memories, which is a pretty cool site that takes a look at the classic days of Pro Wrestling.

The icon is of Bruiser Brody. Brody was without question one of my all-time favorite wrestlers. Brody looked like a crazy man, with wild hair and a long beard and actually, kind had a Charles Manson thing going.


Brody (back) with Stan Hansen. Brody and Hansen were a legendary Tag Team in Japan.


Brody biting the head of Carlos Colon. They had a long-standing bloody feud in Puerto Rico.

But behind the scenes, he was known as Frank Goodish, a loving husband and father who not only had a journalism degree from West Texas State University, but also was a good enough football player to get a try out with the Washington Redskins of the National Football League.

More importantly, Brody was his own man. He refused to deal with the backstage politics and games that go on behind the scenes in pro wrestling. He did what was right for Bruiser Brody and his family, and everyone else be damned. This however, made him a fairly disliked guy, and unfortunately, played a role in his death when another wrestler stabbed Brody in the locker room in 1988.

In an odd way, Bruiser Brody died for his beliefs.



The other two wrestlers - at the top of the page - are Dusty Rhodes, and either Ron or Don Harris (they're twins, and i can't tell the difference). Dusty is the one with the blondish buzz cut, about to smash the tattooed guy in the head.

Why Dusty, and why one of the Harris boys?

Well, Dusty Rhodes is another one of my all-time favorite wrestlers. His gimmick was that he was the workingman. The everyman. The guy busting his ass every day at a crappy job so he could get blitzed with the boys at the local bar on friday night, and take his wife out for a nice dinner on saturday night.

And the move he's delivering? Why, the Bionic Elbow of course.

Now, to the Harris Boys. Truth be told, both brothers are Nazis. Not Nazis in simply the oppressive, fascist way, but Nazis in the hate-filled way that they both have SS Tattoos on their arms, and have worn SS T-shirts on nationally televised wrestling programs. And no doubt, ardent supporters of our afore-mentioned 43rd President, George Junior The Dim.

The symbolism of it all works for me. The Everyman delivering a crushing elbow to the head of the fascist. i like it. In a pro wrestling microcosm, that sums it all up for me

Waist Deep in the Big Muddy...

so, i dunno man. where the hell are all the protest singers? i mean, back in the day the Vietnam War pretty much made the careers of lots of legends. Bob Dylan anyone?

we've got a few people out there speaking their minds. Steve Earle has a new record coming out this summer called "The Revolution Starts...now," and features songs like "Rich Man's War," "Condi, Condi," and "F(uck) the CC".

Ani DiFranco has said a few things as well, but really oughta be keeping a louder profile. A few other singers have been outspoken, but just seem to be afraid of some sort of backlash.

There's a compilation out there featuring Michael Franti, Charlie Hunter, and Ozomatli. NOFX put out this wonderfully fun compilation called Rock Against Bush.

But two of the people who i expect to be the loudest - and i don't mean by speaking or putting on concerts - but by writing music that should be evoking change and will be something our kids will look at as music that helped alter the course of history - have been strangely quiet.

Serj Tankian. Zack de la Rocha. Where are you guys? Especially you Zack - the World needs y'all now, more than ever. We need your music damnit!

Zack - you once said it best. "Anger is a gift," you growled.

Well for fuck's sake man, get out of your bunker and share your gift with us. The loudest and angriest voices we've had so far are from the Dixie Chicks - a country band!!! No disrespect to them, but anger and change isn't their forte.

it's yours.

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"Waist Deep in the Big Muddy," Originally by Pete Seeger, slightly reworked by Richard Shindell for his new cd "Vuelta," due on 8/24.

It was back in nineteen forty-two,
I was a member of a good platoon.
We were on maneuvers in Louisiana
One night by the light of the moon.
The captain told us to ford a river,
That's how it all begun.
We were -- knee deep in the Big Muddy,
But the damn fool kept yelling to push on.

The Sergeant said, "Sir, are you sure,
This is the best way back to the base?"
"Sergeant, go on! I forded this river
'Bout a mile above this place.
It'll be a little soggy but just keep slogging.
We'll soon be on dry ground."
We were -- waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the damn fool kept yelling to push on.

The Sergeant said, "Sir, with all this equipment
No man will be able to swim."
"Sergeant, don't be a Nervous Nellie,"
The Captain said to him.
"All we need is a little determination;
Men, follow me, I'll lead on."
We were -- neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the damn fool kept yelling to push on.

All at once, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, the captain's helmet
Was all that floated by.
The Sergeant said, "Turn around men!
I'm in charge from now on."
And we just made it out of the Big Muddy
With the captain dead and gone.

We stripped and dived and found his body
Stuck in the old quicksand.
I guess he didn't know that the water was deeper
Than the place he'd once before been.
Another stream had joined the Big Muddy
'Bout a half mile from where we'd gone.
We were lucky to escape from the Big Muddy
When the damn fool kept yelling to push on.

Well, you might not want to draw conclusions;
I'll leave that to yourself
Maybe you're still walking, you're still talking
You'd like to keep your health.
But every time I hear the news
That old feeling comes back on;
We're waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the damn fools kept yelling to push on.
Waist deep! Neck deep!
We'll be drowning before too long
We're neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the damn fools keep yelling to push on.

Raindrops keep falling on my head...

sometimes, commuting sucks. really.

i don't mean the hop in your car with a cup of coffee, a celly, a bagel, a GPS device, today's paper, and whatever else you choose to distract yourself with while you're supposed to be paying attention to the road ahead and around you kind of commute, but rather the walk 10 minutes to the subway, climb some serious stairs, wait impatiently for the train, cram yourself in like a freakin' sardine, go two lousy stops, force your way out onto the platform at your stop, go down a million more stairs, wait impatiently for the damned Long Island RailRoad which always shows up 10 minutes late, then take that for about 40 minutes until the VERY last stop then race the other passengers to the cab stand where you'll sit inside the cab for 10 more minutes anyway, before finally riding crammed in like sardines again to your office, but only after you stop at everyone else's office first kind of commute.

that is my commute on a normal day.

today, due to "switching problems" caused by an electrical storm, i sat in a RailRoad car for an extra hour and a half. and then, as soon as i get off the subway, the sky opens up. i mean, i can't remember the last time it rained that hard.

so i get home, and i am one wet dog. blech.

but, being the optimist that i am, at least it was the summer. it was kinda fun dashing home in that heavy heavy rain, because it was really warm and nice outside.

still, sometimes, commuting sucks. really.

Welcome to the Jungle...

Less than a week ago, one of the most important countdowns of our time came to a relatively quiet end. On June 13th, Mary-Kate and Ashley, the Olsen Twins, celebrated their 18th birthday, bringing to conclusion a legendary ascent into legality and adulthood. The girls, are, as they say, now good to go.

However, today marks the beginning of a countdown that perhaps surpasses the Olsen Twins in importance.

138 days from now, U.S. voters go to the polls to elect their next president.

The options aren't great, but basically it comes down to a decision between voting for the lies, supreme idiocy, and absolute and unadulterated pure madness of King George the Selected; or voting for John Kerry, who has got to be better then Bush Lite, simply because the odds are in his favor.

Kerry would have to be monumental awful to NOT do better than GW Bush has done.

It would really, truly, take a Herculean effort to wreck the economy like Bush and his cronies have, to destroy the trust and respect other nations had for us like Bush and his cronies have, to devastate the environment like Bush and his cronies have, and to wage a murderous Holy War the likes of which hasn't been seen in centuries like Bush and his cronies have.

138 days people. That's how long we have until we have an opportunity to correct the wrongs our Supreme Court, and the election officials in the state of Florida, committed in late 2000.

It may be a tad over-dramatic, but it's not too much of a stretch to say that November 2, 2004, is a day when Americans can alter the course of world history, and perhaps even bring our country back to relatively well-liked leadership role we took on for this planet.