SS57—Manor Mends The Mat Game 2021

Pro wrestling was founded by shady characters of questionable morals bent on conning naïve rubes out of their money via rigged “fights.”  Everyone knows that.

Except diehard wrestling fans.

Wide-eyed bubble-dwellers who wandered into a biker bar and wanted to play hymns on the jukebox, it’s only natural that those who exist in a fantasy world of their own creation would be drawn to another make-believe environment, a comforting escape from the harsh  reality of otherwise being a full-time resident of Loser Land.

With the petulance of a two-year-old with ADD, it is little wonder they fly into a tizzy when even the most trivial occurrence poses a (minor) threat to the dreamscape they’ve created.

Unable to crawl back into the womb—the closest they’ll ever get to sex— to Nerdus Maximus and friends immersed in video games (fake world), comic books (fake world), and movies and TV shows about superheroes (fake world), pro wrestling is a perfect fit, as it too involves other people doing the dirty work while they do minimal exertion.

So, folks, what it breaks down to is this:  Wrestling itself is not “the big problem”; it’s who wrestling attracts. These delusional diehards are irreparable. But that doesn’t mean wrestling can’t be fixed to cleanse itself of that particular element.

*When Eric Bischoff took control of WCW, he phoned me—ME, not you—to get some input and advice.  One of the many things I told him and personally changed the industry as a whole was not to undervalue the cruiserweights.  Thus, I am solely responsible for the career success of Ultimo Dragon, Juvi, Eddie Guerrero, Dean Malenko, Chris Jerko and Rey Midgetstereo—though I apologize for the latter.

But all those men (except Rey) I single-handedly made stars went about 230 pounds, didn’t wear T-shirts to hide lousy physiques like yours, and were athletes rather than acrobats and fluorescent light-tube eaters.

Also, Eric called me roughly a quarter-century ago; and as excuse-makers love to bring up to validate something new and awful, “Wrestling evolves.”

In this case, exactly my point.

Since only the saddest no-lifers watch it anyway, sack the entire 205 Live roster and use the currently wasted airtime for something more entertaining.  You proponents of the dwarf-based promotions worship the bingo hall in Philadelphia—though you’ve never actually been to that dump—so, why not air some exciting bingo action from the Nantucket, RI, VFW post?  It has to be more engaging than Generic Can’t Cut A Promo versus Generic Flippy Guy With Beard.

And this ban on non-heavyweights is across the board, not just for the WWE.  All midgets must go!

That includes those on “the other channel,” such as The Jackson Two, Cringe Cassidy, Micro Stunt, Bunghole Boy, the Loser Brothers, and Private Parts. Let them find jobs they are better suited for, like stocking the lower shelves in grocery stores or modeling children’s clothing in Wal-Mart ads.  Perhaps act as Smurf stunt doubles.

At the very least, Kushida and Ricky Starks can find seasonal jobs building toys at Santa’s workshop, 

*Return to the non-fans attendance system.  What was better than the wildly overhyped Attitude Era?  The Stink-Free Era!

Being an insider—not someone who plays one on social media—I’ve spoken to many bonebenders, and they were unanimous in agreeing it was such a delight to no longer have to be administered oxygen after each match, to clear the audience body odor and unwashed-hair stench from their system.  Popular Seth Rollins told me “Every time Becky changes a dirty diaper, the smell reminds us of when you first do your entrance and get a whiff of the fans’ breath.”

The typically cretinous Chicago-based “fans” repeatedly performing lameass “CM Punk” chant during the thrilling August 2 RAW—the first one with the live crowd back—conclusively proved the “fanbase” is more useless than a pogo stick on a canoe ride.

I am not suggesting everyone be locked out of arenas.  That would be preposterous.  No, I’m saying…you know how you need a “vaccination passport” to get into restaurants, MSG concerts and the like?  To be allowed entry into a wrestling card, one must present a photo of them in the ring during another show.  This excludes the time you paid $90 to have your picture taken with Ricky Morton in a ring set up at a fan convention in Frogs Leap, Louisiana.

*One constant comment from the obsessed, being few have ever had an original thought, is “I wish RAW wasn’t three hours long.”  Putting aside the expected grammar error, I agree with the numbnuts!

RAW should be expanded to four hours

I, for one, greatly miss those 27-minute opening promos where one wrestler badmouths another until—surprise!—the insulted party comes to the ring to talk smack about the first person, who just stands there and takes it without ever even interrupting, let alone throwing a right hook.

I just adore the spontaneity of the pretend-boss interrupting the bickerers and scheduling a completely impromptu match between the tendon-tearers.  And by a stroke of pure luck, even though shows are generally formatted to the minute, that particular one has a spare 18 minutes to kill and accommodate the new match!

Another bonus to running another hour is how it creates an opening for the return of the most spellbinding in-ring interview segments in the sport’s history.

I am referring of course to the Live Stately States segment, hailed by all as far greater than Piper’s Pit on its best day.  For starters, the enormously overrated Roddy Piper couldn’t finish two sentences without doing that disgusting hiccup-inhale thing he used to do.  Let’s not conveniently forget the Scotsman was homophobic, clearly demonstrated by his cowardly sneak attack on guest Adrian Adonis.  His most famous targets?  A black midget, Jimmy Snuka and Mister T—all People Of Color  Do I really have to spell out what that means?

*In the earliest Olympic Games, wrestling was done in the nude.  This practice needs to be reinstated at once.

But only for the broads.

You can stop your “Stately is a sexist pig” cries right this minute, toots.  My record for supporting equality is unmatched.  In fact, I have boldly stated on Twitter that, when your old lady is doing your laundry, you should allow the chick to throw in some of her clothes as well.

I’m all for wrestling women.  It is public knowledge I try to wrestle women every chance I get.  So, don’t worry your pretty little head over me, sister.  You’d be much better-served trying to learn simple arithmetic so it doesn’t take you and “the girls” an hour to work out who pays what on a restaurant bill.

Anyway, naked honeys open up so many fresh possibilities.  A faction of Naomi, Bayley, Maria Kanellis and Marti Belle, their gimmick being they’re only shot from behind.  Nikki ASH being rebranded correctly this time, as Nikki ASS.  The female NWO—Nude Whore Order.

Special remixes of matches, edited to show the best views, if you know what I mean (and half of you don’t.)  A reality show wherein the gals frequently take long slow-motion showers and love to bounce on trampolines.

Breastlemania, All Hanging Out, Starrknakedcade, and Destination XXX would smash every existing pay-per-view buy rate…and give a whole new meaning to “hardcore.”

I hear you Pretend Puritans clucking away, acting as if you are repulsed by the idea.  In the meantime, you and your little buddies in the Three Inch Club have been having “tug team” circle jerks over Shotzi, Britt Baker and Thunder Rosa on a weekly basis all year.

*Being “woke” is a joke.  Bunch of sanctimonious snotballs playing holier-than-thou, feigning concern about whatever is Cause Of The Day as an excuse to pat themselves on the back.  These creatures are even worse than online gatekeepers!

At least imbeciles calling themselves @AEW24.7_69 and @SashaFeetSniffStan are easy to avoid.  Woke tools pop up every freakin’ where.  “Ooooh, look at me, I eat tofu instead of beef.”  Wait right there, the Pope wants to give you a medal.  (And, besides, those cows were asking for it.)

The biggest fix for wrestling today is to run off these pearl-clutching pansies and return to what the sport was built on—bad taste.

“Ethnicity- and race-baiting is not good,” says Sobbing Sally.  She’s right—it’s great.

Some of my earliest cherished memories include the real Rock, Don Muraco, calling Pedro Morales “a greaseball,” while, on another station, Tully Blanchard, taking a rare booking in the Northeast, was fearlessly running down the Spanish-speaking.

Holy shish kabob, they’re saying this on TV?!?  They sure were.  And tickets were flying out of the box office.  Wait, what’s this?  On a third channel, some white trash grappler was telling a Japanese competitor to “go make some egg rolls”?

In addition to moving tons of tickets, TV ratings completely blew away the meager numbers tallied today.  Hardly a coincidence.

Now, before anyone labels me a bigot for advocating the above, understand it certainly shouldn’t be only Causcasians ripping minorities.  Homeboys cutting up crackers is something I 100-percent endorse.

I want to see a black tag team claiming “You honkies suck at boxing, track, and basketball, and especially suck at wrestling.  And you can ask your sister about what else we’re better at…shorty,” while surrounded by fawning blondes.  And an Asian boasting “Sony took over Hollywood and Samsung rules TVs and phones.  Nobody buys a Ford or Chevy anymore.  So, whether you like it or not, we own all you round-eyes.”

Ethnicity-baiting is only one of the many “offensive” options.  Give me voluptuous skank valets constantly following their man’s orders and being put up for “maid service” if the heel loses.  Flip the switch and have a wrestler in the most universally acknowledged cringe position of all, the p-whipped husband or boyfriend.

Screw factions of, um, elite athletes. Wrestling needs a trio of obese slobs who scoff at working out and only win because they triple-team and are too fat for a worn-down foe to kick out on.

The WWE has the slickest production crew the sport has ever seen.  Yeah, and viewership has declined every year.  I need introduction videos that look like they were shot on a burner phone—because they were—with “the new people” getting out of parked jets, lounging by Olympic-size pools at plush mansions, all of which were obviously rented for the day.  The soundtrack is, of course, some song radio stations beat to death two years earlier.

 Also, the hell with Shaq, Bad Bunny, Snoop, Logan Paul et al, each being “some super-rich guy just picking up a paycheck.”  Replace them with that goofus taking over the limelight of Flo from Progressive, the hippie who holds the Guinness World Record for eating Big Macs, and a once-popular singing act with none of its original members.  Why have wealthy celebrities when you can have poor celebrities?

On a related note, if yours truly was “some super-rich guy,” I’d introduce Ambush The Assholes.   It goes like this.

Find the most overbearing, preachy public figures around, being sure they have no interest in wrestling whatsoever.  Promise them some live TV time to talk up their latest project, world hunger, the homeless, or whatever other hopeless cause they are “deeply concerned about” (at the moment.)

Before the show, in an empty arena, demonstrate how the various blows are “fake” and harmless.  Seconds before they are about to walk the aisle on the live show, it’s “Oh, geez, we never got your signature on the standard contract, handing them a thick legal document with the buried clause “the promotion will not be responsible for any injuries.”  

Then, about 62 seconds into their speech, have a four-person run-in and stomp the living tar out of the jiveass.

Week after week, destroy the likes of Bono, Tucker Carlson, Whoopi Goldberg, Paul McCartney, Jenny McCarthy…it will be the best TV to ever air! 

Lawsuits?   Meh, remember, this is based on being super-rich.  (That’s how you get to be booker now, right?)  If I have to pay Fred Durst a million smackers because he can’t “sing” anymore, that’s money well spent. 

Just imagine the magic of the moment when the announcer bellows “The Four Horsewomen have reformed—and they’re beating up Taylor Swift!!!”

Naturally, you’d have to mix it up so it doesn’t get too repetitive.   Like have all the girls take turns superplexing Khloe Kardashian through a table, or a Road Warriors salute in which Neil Young takes four Doomsday Devices.  The men in the ring have a contest to determine who can best chokeslam Howard Stern.  The possibilities are endless!

SS56—Mat This ‘n’ That/I’m Back, Jack

To the tearful dismay of the masses, it’s been quite some time since Wrestling’s Only Unbiased Columnist posted a fresh Stately States.  Rejoice, girls and buoys, I have returned, to once again be The Rage Of The Digital Page.

I was going to continue last column’s theme, explaining how self-described “REAL Wrestling Fans” are less useful than sunscreen on a scuba diver, and such imbeciles they think a salad bar is where lettuce goes to get drunk and fishcake is what they serve on birthdays at Sea World.

But since there’s so much to cover, I’m going to opt for something I used to do in my Power Slam column, stringing together brief thoughts on recent developments.

For the unaware, PS was published in England from 1994 to 2014, I being the only member of the writing staff onboard for the full 20 years, penning Manor’s Mat Musings.   This is not to be confused with the newish UK mag wherein Mat Musings was STOLEN, its far-inferior author and gutless publisher rudely ignoring my inquiries about the blatant rip-off—twice.

Musings logo MINE

Accept no substitutes.

First, a quick quiz:

Who are The. Worst. Fans. Ever?  You make the call.

A.  Doesn’t live-tweet a single sporting event the rest of the week but will do so when a certain wrestling show is in progress to “subtly” prove he’s not watching it.

B,  Constantly opines “The WWE’s current product is abysmal,” brings it up daily, then one day casually notes “I haven’t watched it in ten years.”  (Probably lying, anyway.) 

C,  The malcontent who rips on WWE non-stop but has a podcast or YouTube show solely dependent upon viewing content on—where else?—the WWE Network.

Now, onto the ramblings.

If Chris Jericho came down the aisle with Ralphus now, could anyone tell them apart?  Defeating Jerko in that champagne pool match has done wonders for Orange Julius, er, Cassidy.  Now when they say “He sells a lot of T-shirts,” it means he’s working at the merch table….Where are all the “Ronda didn’t pay any dues” moaners when it comes to Dominik Mysterio?  I’m waiting for Rey’s daughter to begin wrestling so I can claim “She moves in Mysterio ways.”  Because I’m a freaking genius….The makeover has exposed that Ruby is much hotter than Sasha WHO IS MARRIED AND WILL NEVER GET WITH YOU, SO QUIT DROOLING OVER HER, LOSER….Must be exciting being a fresh team in AEW.  You get the biggest hype imaginable, for four straight weeks—before losing to the Bucks and getting relegated to midcard limbo.  Which has happened to EVERY SINGLE TEAM.

Let me see if I have all this straight.  Certain championship matches every few months require a contract signing but all the other matches don’t.  Those in certain sensitive circles get upset when someone uses “IWC” to describe them.  All the while calling themselves the Wrestling Community.  Which is what the “WC” in “IWC” represents.  Tony Khan’d playing a rich creep on “purchased” Impact time does not contradict the whole “He will never play a character on television” because it’s on Impact rather than Dynamite.  And people gleefully paid to see Joey Ryan have others fondle his junk (and encouraged more of such antics) yet allegedly never suspected the man is a little odd.  Enablers turned virtue signalers sure like to play dumb.

face palm MONTAGE VVVG

Isn’t it odd how Zelina Vega never expressed a single care about a wrestlers’ union until she got fired?  Weird coincidence, huh?…It says a lot about fraud Josh Matthews when being replaced by Matt Striker is considered an upgrade…. Reby Hardy has many important connections.  Perhaps one day she’ll introduce Matt to hair conditioner….I hear Shayna Baszler is determined to lick every woman in the WWE locker room.  Even if it means hopping on them in the showers!  Some aren’t going to take that lying down….Did you know, on Halloween 2019, Micro Stunt trick-or-treated in a suit of armor, but people kept mistaking him for a fire hydrant?…Unconfirmed, but I’m hearing reports that there was one 24-hour period in which Jim Ross didn’t release a public statement concerning the opinion or history of Jim Ross….Gary Heltz of Pine Bluff, Arkansas, will be missing 205 Live next week.  There goes half their viewership.

All these weeks with Smackdown not having a live audience.  A shame they didn’t also go without a live color commentator….Ever notice Tom Phillips has the same initials as “toilet paper”?  That may be why Samoa Joe told me Phillips is an asswipe….The Grizzled Young Veterans keep the company’s streak going—the streak of Worst Ring Names Ever.  Empress Of Tomorrow, Forgotten Sons, Genius Of The Sky, Archer Of Infamy, Authors Of Pain:  Will whichever comic-book nerd who came up with this dross please explain to me how an era can be “undisputed”?… Mia Jax yells “My hole,” and is instantly transformed into the darling of the IWC—who had ripped her mercilessly since about nine minutes after her debut.  Then again, for 83 percent of those gits, it was the first—and last—time they ever heard a woman reference an orifice below the waist….”Elimination Chamber” sounds like something NASA came up with to name a space station toilet.

If you’re wondering where Jimmy Uso has been, he’s opened a driving school with Jeff Hardy and Nick Hogan.  Putting the “high” in “highway”….I’m delighted to see Naomi’s back.  She looks great from that angle….Hearing rumors about an all- Lana-fan cable channel.  Instead of “television,” it’s going to be called “Incelevision”….Taz’s “wearing shades inside” thing is really cool—if it’s 1967 and you’re the lead singer of Steppenwolf….I am looking forward to the Impact episode in which Tommy Dreamer performs a teary retirement speech.  I bet it will be better than the 47 he’s done before.

Okay, that’s enough.

If you love this column, signify by purchasing two cups at https://ko-fi.com/manormania

If you hate this column, signify by purchasing three cups at https://ko-fi.com/manormania

…although you’re probably too cheap to do either.

SS55–The Outsiders’ Guide To REAL Wrestling Fans

It goes without saying that those who don’t follow professional wrestling are very contrite about this shortcoming and wish to apologize to me personally.  Nonetheless, the chances are you know someone you’d describe as a “real wrestling fan.”  But do you know a “REAL wrestling fan”?

What’s the difference between someone who’s a dedicated enthusiast and a self-described “REAL wrestling fan” besides the latter’s choice to capitalize the first word for accentuation on it (and an unwarranted feeling of superiority)?  That just happens to be the topic for this particular column.  I’ll be using the abbreviation RWF frequently, primarily because I’m lazy.  Er, I mean so as to not eat up so much column space.

 

RWF is the only segment of fandom wherein the member’s neck size matches his SAT scores.  With an aroma resembling a skunk that was run over outside a sulfur factory explosion, these moralists regularly look down their freshly picked noses at those who merely watch a television program or attend an event to be—GASP!–entertained.

So what, if under two million Americans watch the most popular wrestling TV show?  That’s practically everyone in the world, because wrestling is really important in the grand scheme of things—which, in turn, makes REAL fans important.  This is the bubble RWFs live in. Among other delusional doozies, these sad sacks think they represent the majority of the mat sport’s fan base rather than the “casual” fans they despise.  (Not even close.)  And believe they have great influence over the wrestling offices’ decisions.  (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—not to mention HA.)

You’d have a better chance of winning the national lottery by choosing numbers via a blindfolded pigeon tap-dancing on a solar calculator than one of these “experts” actually getting something right.  Yet they persist, unfazed over batting .000 for life.

I would rather take fashion advice from Guy Fieri while snorting a line of his earwax dunked in year-old cream than pay the slightest bit of attention to the RWFs endless sanctimonious yattering.

First off, let’s take a look at the standard RWF—quite literally.  On the average, these are beefy lads and lasses; and, it is reasonable for an outsider to wonder if the devotees have ever tried their hand at the sport.  This is how a typical conversation goes.

RWF:  Wrestling is my LIFE.

SWM:  Really?  How many matches have you been in?

RWF:  None.

SWM:  Okay, then where are you training to become a wrestler?

RWF:  Nowhere.

SWM:  Why not?

RWF:  I’m a pussy afraid of pain.

SWM:  Then why not train to be a ref?  They rarely bump.

RWF:  Well, um….

SWM:  Ring announcers take no bumps.

RWF:  Yeah, but….

SWM:  Have you ever approached your local indie promoter and volunteered to do anything, such as set up the ring or the folding chairs?

RWF:  No, but….

[Let the record show the author is a 5’8” middleweight but has participated in matches, including being on the receiving end of contact and knocked to the ground.  Because he’s not a windbag coward.]

 

The standard RWF is not only a business and television programming expert (despite having no experience in either) but is also a master of in-ring technique. After all, he has watched thousands of matches on TV.

Fortunately for the rest of us novices, these enlightened souls generously share their knowledge. A common social media occurrence is the posting of a brief video clip showcasing a move that went horribly wrong and/or appeared to be very painful.  Fulfilling his duty as an educator to the masses, the RWF will reply with an explanation along the lines of “He should have tucked his chin on the way down,” even if the person posting—and I swear I’m not making this up, folks—is a veteran professional wrestler.

It’s a shame Jimi Hendrix isn’t still alive.  Although never having held a guitar themselves, these same nincompoops could advise him on how to correctly play a C-chord.

Yes, the standard RWF is so oblivious, he doesn’t even grasp how ridiculous he comes off, and will continue to make a public fool of himself for eternity.

But don’t you dare laugh at them!

Oh, yeah, it’s all fun and games when a wrestler or company on their official Hate List gets knocked.  But call out the RWFs with a very valid comment, and it’s a one-way ticket to Sulk City.  “Boohoohoo, our skin is thinner than a butterfly wing.  Just for that, we’re not voting for you in our self-aggrandizing annual polls, the results of which are unseen by anyone in the industry.

“You should be more like _____, who dutifully tells us exactly what we want to hear, we being far too thick to recognize we’re being conned.”

You may think Swifties are overbearing tunnel-visioned dimwits.  And you’d be right.  But they are a flock of 13-year-old girls who have never been kissed.  Other than their ever-expanding waistlines, RWFs are full-grown (chronological) adults—who have also never been kissed.

Stans, regardless of the genre, are pathetic little beings who have to get their thrills vicariously, knowing full well they will never be more than a mosquito squashed on the windshield of life.  REAL Wrestling Fans up the ante by griping over how Favorites A, B and C are not current champs—as in carrying around a championship belt RWFs know is REWARDED as a PRE-DETERMINED result of a STAGED contest no one has ever actually “won.”

To put this into perspective, picture a gaggle of goofuses whining to the USA Network daily and for months because Ice T’s character on Law And Order:  SVU has never been elected mayor of New York City.

REAL Wrestling Fans are not entirely useless, however.  For instance, they could serve as highly effective mulch, if properly buried (meaning alive.)  Or tossed in wood-chippers as test material rather than wasting precious natural resources such as trees and old sneakers.

Polar bears have it tough enough, confined to small zoo pits, in weather dozens of degrees warmer than their natural habitat.  Why not cheer up our furry friends by tossing them a RWF or two for lunch?

Feeding REAL Wrestling Fans to bears is also a money-saving opportunity for zoos.  But how’s this?

Cities are constantly under budget strains and searching for new revenue streams.  Parades, outdoor concerts and the like are always a boon for the local economy, since they boost retail sales, eatery attendance, parking lot use, and other taxed enterprises.

The more spectacular and crowd-pleasing, the higher the attendance.  I say let’s march out some RWFs for good ol’ public beheadings.

What’s their offense?  Why, being a REAL Wrestling Fan is as offensive as it gets!

To Be Continued

 

 

SS54—Social Media Wrestlingese Codes Revealed!

StaStaBlueNICE48size

Professional wrestling has long had its own language and codes—and it appears that wrestling fans have followed suit.  If you are new to social media outlets covering wrestling (or even a veteran on the scene, for that matter), here is a glossary of common expressions, along with their REAL meanings.

 

*”S/he is better off staying in NXT.”  Working for less money is a blast.  That’s why I’m sticking to running the french-fryer instead of trying to be assistant manager at my Wendy’s job.

*”That balcony dive onto a burning table was awesome!!!”  I pretend to “love” wrestlers, but couldn’t give a crap about the permanent damage they suffer.  The only thing that matters is entertaining me.

*”Dave Meltzer doesn’t have any sources.”  I, on the other hand, have loads of insider info I get by reading sites that copy their “news” directly from Dave Meltzer.

*”(Disliked person) is an old man.”  I righteously make public stands against racism and sexism—primarily, to look cool.  Ageism?  I am fine with that…boomer.

*”MJF is a tremendous heel.”  I define a heel as someone to cheer for because he’s fun and doesn’t really mean anything he says.  A heel shouldn’t do anything that makes people hate them.  In other words, I’m as clueless as a popsicle salesman in Antarctica.

*”I missed CM Punk.”  I missed being conned by CM Punk, the multi-millionaire who sued his “best friend” and pretend-rebel who changed absolutely nothing about the business.

*”Impact Wrestling has been a joke for years.”  I’ve never actually watched it, but I’ll cheer the hell out of the Lucha Brothers and LAX now that they’re with AEW.  And, hey, that Eli Drake is the best talker on NWA Powerrr!

*”Ratings do matter to fans, because ratings are a barometer of the health of the industry.”  I’m just repeating an excuse devised by someone smarter than me, while, in reality, I only care that my favorite promotion is “beating” their rival, so I can gloat about it.  Also, the lower the RAW viewership, the better I feel.  I’d like to see the WWE go out of business.  Screw the 900 people losing their jobs.

*”The Attitude Era ruled!”  Wasn’t watching WWE then.

*”The NWO was too sweeeet!”  Wasn’t watching WCW then.

*”Rey Mysterio is the greatest luchador ever.”  Never heard of Lizmark, Atlantis, Perro Aguayo, Dos Caras, Karloff Legarde, Santo, Blue Demon, etc. because they weren’t on Lucha Underground.  [Thinks Triple-A is a roadside assistance service.]

*”50-50 booking sucks.”  Everyone I like should never lose and all the wrestlers I hate should never win.  Never mind that mean the only serious contenders will be other undefeated wrestlers, then one will have to lose in the end.  Oh, wait.

[Closely related to…]

*It’s so unfair ____ is getting buried.”  My favorite lost one televised match.  I have no access to the long-term booking plans but will just shoot my mouth off like a spoiled brat.

*”I was only joking.”  I totally wasn’t but am saying this because I got busted over something idiotic I earlier claimed.

*”The women should have been in the main event.”  Maybe a real live girl will see this and LIKE ME!  Then she’ll become my official girlfriend and and and I’ll finally get kissing by someone besides Grandma Jenkins.  Whoa, all the other guys will think we’re actually “doing it”!!!

*”sports entertainers”  My condescension for those who don’t have 352 moves and dives stolen from Mexico and Japan has no limit.  But I’ll cheer a guy dressed as a dinosaur taking on an invisible man who kicked out after a hand grenade attack.  That’s different.  The dinosaur did a 450 twisting springboard tope makiwara off a 60-foot ladder.

*”Mauro is the greatest.”  Shouting catchphrases and a long prepared list of pop culture and hip-hop references to get YOURSELF over is a play-by-play announcer’s role.  Even though he vanity searches and calls detractors “troglodytes” and such, never ever call him names.

*”organic”  A mega-pushed talent I like, otherwise I’d be whining about them being shoved down our throats—even though they are getting the same amount of airtime and high-profile matches as Roman Reigns did when he was being shoved down our throats.

*(female wrestler’s or commentator’s name) followed by heart and flames emojis.  Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, a new girl to drool over as I rub my wee-wee under the sheets each night!  I’m going to tag her in Tweets and call her “Queen.”  Don’t know what I’d do if she flirted back.

I mean that literally, since no woman has ever shown interest in my lard ass.

[Often followed by…]

*”(female wrestler) is so overrated.”  My cream dream Blocked me on Twitter after my Tweet asking if she’d sell me her dirty panties.

*”_____ of all time.”  (Most frequently used with lists such as The Top Ten Brawlers Of All Time.)  Since I became a fan, because I’m too self-centered to recognize great things occurred before I got interested.

*”The @NWA has the most perfect show ever, #NWAPowerrr. @Billy and @Lagana are geniuses!!!!!! #IntoTheFire”  I am desperately trying to get my name onscreen during the pre-show crawl of flattering posts.  This is the only shot I’ll ever have of getting on TV, until my arrest for trying to have sex with a 14-year-old.

*”I met _____ and s/he is really cool.”  I stood in line for twenty minutes to pay for an autograph, and s/he didn’t call me a sucker to my face during the three seconds it took to sign.

*”(Promotion) should sign (Wrestler X, Y and Z.)”  I don’t even begin to comprehend how budgets work or care if a company turns a profit.  I also have no comprehension of how time works, and thus demand these three and the existing 57 roster members get many minutes on a two-hour show.

*”outlaw mudshow”  A rare few who actually understand what the expression means and its origin throw it around, so I will, also.  Okay, I’m too lazy to research what it means.  But, luckily, so are 98-percent of my fellow geeks impressing each other with our vast knowledge of insider terms.  It’s like a signal to each other, saying “I’m cool and in the know, too, dude.”

*”Wrestling has evolved.”  My all-purpose excuse for blowing off valid criticism from anyone over age 35.  Somewhere around 2015, this big invisible ray from outer space completely changed human nature, so things like “good guy gets revenge on evildoer” no longer register with anyone.

[Often uttered while the latest superhero movie is grossing hundreds of millions.]

*According to Reddit user”  “There’s a sucker born every minute” was never any more true than at the moment of my birth.  Why not trust an anonymous individual with no credentials to validate any claim he makes?

*”I’ve watched 36 hours of wrestling so far this week.”  My life is so empty, this is the one thing that stops me from crying myself to sleep.

Sometimes.

SS52—Official New Rules For Wrestling-Related Social Media

Examine the statistics any night there is a broadcast or PPV, and one topic thoroughly dominates the Trending charts—professional wrestling.  To bring some organization and decorum to the scene, the Federal Communications Commission assigned me to catalog the Official New Rules For Wrestling-Related Social Media.

They are, in no order of priority, as follows.

Rule #1—Remind us daily:

a) How you don’t watch the WWE—but it’s “trash,” which you know because, um….

Not to be confused with Person Who Claims They Never Watch The WWE–or Person Who Says They Only Watch Vintage Wrestling–yet very accurately cranks out 122 tweets per week about current WWE roster stars, who is and isn’t good on the mic, the latest storylines, etc.

b) There are many options nowadays. None of us is bright enough to have figured this out yet.

c) Vince McMahon is senile, when there’s one stinker of a match, but ignore the claim when wrestlers you like go over, e.g. all the fan faves winning straps at Wrestlemania 35.

Rule #2—Behave as though you “have to” watch a show as it airs live.

The world is breathlessly awaiting your expert critique, entire continents populated by those on the edge of their seats in anticipation of your every thought.

Oh, the sleepless night all will have if you opt to wait until tomorrow to enlighten the unwashed masses.  This is especially true of the show’s performers, each deeply concerned about earning your approval and absorbing your advice regarding what they can improve upon.

“Oh, no, Denver Danny says my moonsault “looked weak.”  That does it. I’m cancelling all my bookings and returning to the training center for three months. Thanks, Danny, for saving my twelve-year career.”

This rule is triple-important for those who have an ocean between them and the event site.  You being up until 4 a.m. local time is providing an invaluable service to the dozen of your countrymen who just watched the same show.

Rule #3—Start or join a Closed Facebook Group so you can ridicule everyone associated with the business on a site they can’t actually see, and thus you can still suck up to them publicly and also not be afraid they’ll tune you up.

Rule #4—It is silly to wait until the follow-up show after a dramatic angle, before condemning the booking decision.

It isn’t as though they book these things with any thought given to what comes next.  Or a “screwed” wrestler has ever been positioned for a major victory on an even bigger card.

In your infinite wisdom, you KNOW exactly how everything is going to play out and that it is going to “suck.”  May as well pounce all over it now.  After all, you’ve never been wrong jumping to a conclusion.

(Hey, remember how you peed all over the intro of the 24/7 belt?)

Rule #5—If your illegal stream of a PPV event is acting up, by all means gripe about it online. Crashes altogether? Can always go back to brag-posting about how much you support the promotion.

 Rule #6—Quarter-star ratings are vital.  No doubt you can thoroughly explain the difference between a 2 ½ and 2 ¾ star match, right?

Rule #7—Should RAW ratings continue to sputter, blame Mr. McMahon, not Teflon Paul Heyman, claiming the former Mr. Dangerously has his hands tied.  Should RAW prosper, “Heyman proves once again he’s a genius.”  It’s not like Vince had a say in hiring him, or anything.

Rule #8–Television ratings and buyrates make matches, angles, promos, vignettes, finishers and commentary good.  Keep harping on them!

Rule #9–Proudly fill your Profile bio with a list of wrestling personalities who have Blocked you.

Out of the millions online, these celebrities selected YOU to single out (as an asshole.)  Congratulations (dickhead)!  It takes a special breed (of jerkoff) to offend someone who forgot your fake name with ten seconds. I bet some of the other seventh-graders think you’re super-cool, bro!

Rule #10–CHOOSE SIDES.  Do you prefer AEW?  WWE?  Japanese?  All-Women promotions?  Small-scale indies?  Or maybe a rising British federation?  In that case, consider all other companies and their fans “the enemy” and, of course, “wrong.”

Why should anyone enjoy wrestling that’s not your favorite?  Gentle persuasion never succeeded as a method to educate fools to the error of their ways.  Shouting at total strangers, harshly mocking every misstep “the opposition” performs but ignoring when your team does the exact same thing—that’s what being “a REAL fan” is all about.

Who knows, maybe someday, out of recognition of your tireless efforts, one member of an undercard tag team will wave back at you as he leaves the arena!

You can’t half-ass this, though.  When you see some loser in the shirt of a “rival” company, briskly slap him or her right in the face.  Drop a couple hundred on a front-row ticket to “invade” an enemy’s TV or PPV and disrupt the mindless-sheep fans by chanting the name of your superior promotion.  And who not get a huge neck tattoo of the latter’s logo?

Being a hardcore loyalist who very vocally and publicly sneers at and derides other promotions always pays off, never backfires.  Just ask those who were meta-fans of ECW and WCW!

Rule #11–Butt into convos of noted wrestling reporters to name-call either them or people disagreeing with them, adding nothing to the debate itself.

Rule #12—Continue to sign up for services that create hundreds or even thousands of “Followers.”  No one can click on your Follower list and see 472 accounts that don’t even tweet in English or ever post anything about the one subject you obsess over.  Probably just a technical glitch, the way you have 7419 Followers yet your live tweets and general opinions average three Likes each.

Rule #13—Retweet the videos of that mentally challenged juggalo untrained “stunt man” legitimately hurting himself for approval. Ditto harsh neck bumps, dives from insane heights that disastrously misfire, and apron bumps.  Only a snowflake thinks those seen in these clips are human beings.

Rule #14—Quote-tweet EVERY time someone compliments you.  Extra credit for calling them “sir” when adding a butt-munch “thank you” line.

Rule #15—Write off anything with “Wrestling has evolved.”

Big deal, you don’t understand the difference between “evolved” and “changed” and how one is subjective and therefore debatable.  All the other “knowing fans” are using the phrase to alibi for their pets.  And that’s good enough for you, Buckaroo!

Rule #16—If you run a “news site,” feel free to fabricate allegations and outright lies, to add a seamy layer to any story.

Wrestler A no-shows an indie date?  It couldn’t possibly be transportation trouble, illness, or the promoter reneging on the agreed-upon appearance fee.  Nope, A is back on drugs.

Wrestler B asks for September off?  It’s not that she’s getting married and moving into a new home in another country that month.  Naaah, she hates her lack of a title shot.

Tag team C turns down the first re-signing offer they’re given, four months before their current contract expires?  That’s not a smooth negotiating tactic to get a better offer.  They are counting the days until they can leave for Japan.

You can also opt to “balance out” the nabobs of negativity by establishing a nice friendly bootlicking news account instead.  Just scan the web for the most popular opinions—even if they are harebrained—and mix in some editorial asides with your news updates.

“My dream match is POC vs Walter.”

“Rey Misterio is Mexico’s most beloved luchadore ever.”

“There has never been a wrestler with more natural charisma than Kenny Omega.”

Don’t forget the occasional pretend-bravery keester kiss.

“This may ruffle some feathers, but I’m okay with Ronda Rousey being gone.”

“Unpopular opinion:  Baron Corbin’s big push has run its course.”

“You may not agree, but I say Samoa Joe would look good with the Universal championship around his waist.”

It’s okay to sprinkle in these gutsy, provocative prose once in a while.  Controversy Creates Clicks.

Rule #17—Here’s a slick trick.  When a mutual or fellow FB group member posts something extremely clever or astute, give it a minor tweak then tweet it as your own when applicable in a week or two.  Granted, the irate originator will think you’re an a-hole (and be right.)  But you got over, and that’s all that matters.

Let’s be honest:  The number-one priority of two-thirds in the “Wrestling Community” is to push themselves; discussing the matches and so forth, a very distant second.  Screwing one person to impress thousands is a no-brainer.

 

ADDITIONAL RULES FOR CELEBRITIES

Rule #C1 —Tweet pandering questions you have neither genuine interest in nor intention of reading responses to.

“Who drank water today?”

“What do you think of inhaling oxygen?”

“Who’s having a birthday in the next twelve months?”

And don’t forget the motivational speaker/philosopher routine.

“If you really want something bad enough, think about others who also share that desire. Striving for goodness will amplify your journey, like salmon swimming upstream.”

Rule #C2 —It’s REALLY important the world knows you are in love.  Posts scads of pix of you and your sweetie, destroying any tenuous fantasy of availability that’s paramount to your appeal to millions of fans.

Sure, your merch sales will go in the toilet and the heartbroken will sit on their hands during your matches.  But you have a soulmate who will be by your side FOREVER (or until March 31st, whichever comes first.)

Rule #C3—Heels, tweet or IG about taking orphans to the zoo, rescuing puppies from floods, etc.

Additionally, heels or faces, if your Twitter gets hot doing shtick in-character, be sure to post incessantly.  NO WAY will you run out of steam and fresh ideas within four weeks.

Rule #C4—Quote-tweet reply, acting all bubbly with fellow stars, while never ever responding to sincere questions or replies from average Joes.  Reminding people “There’s a clique, and you ain’t in it” won’t alienate a soul.

 

SS51–YouTube Boobs

Want to win a pair of tickets to Wrestlemania?  Airfare, front-row seats and a meet-and-greet for any All Elite Wrestling or Ring Of Honor event in the United States?  A deluxe prize package allowing you to attend a New Japan show IN PERSON?

You’ll get none of those here.  But, since the first few sentences of each column appear when I post the link on social media, I figured I could lure in a few saps with the above.

Welcome, suckers!

But don’t pout.  Because you do earn the greatest prize of all:  The opportunity to read my words.

Even if you do need some help with the bigger ones.

For the rare unaware, there is no disputing the well-documented fact I am the Mat Messiah.  It’s mentioned repeatedly in my autobiography.

Sure, there are a bunch of little twerps opining on their YouTube channels—and getting about 20 cents a week for their monetized accounts.  FYI, YT pays an average of $38 a day…if you get SIX-HUNDRED-THOUSAND hits per month.  Yeah, right, as if any of the whine-and-cheesers come remotely close to that.

As per https://influencermarketinghub.com/youtube-money-calculator/

YouTube views money HIGHLIGHTED calculator stats

Ask yourself this:  How many of the self-proclaimed hotshots have ever convinced a total stranger to pay them to express opinions?  And not just once, but rather on a regular salaried basis.

Answer:  Zero.

I’ve succeeded at it for 30 years, and have six figures in both my bank and mutual fund accounts, as well as owning a fully paid-for house and two cars, Jackson.  And before you moan “Yeah, but you got that from working a regular job,” let me add:   Nope, haven’t had one of those since 1990.  Gained all my goodies by being the King Of Columnists.

Besides getting paid—a LOT—I have also brought women to orgasms—making that two things the wannabes never achieved.

I also bathe and wear clean clothes daily, have a 32” waist, own T-shirts in colors other than black, and can talk about more than one topic—even more for the yo-yos to catch up to me on.

Imagine how delusional the Tuber Turds must be, not only believing their babbling bellyaching has a molecule of validity, but also that people want to see them.  Jumping G-zuss, most of these bearded bozos look like the inside of a discarded diaper with a Brillo pad stuck to it.

Ever notice how they’re usually only seen from the blubbery waist up?  That’s so you can’t see what their hands are up to beneath the table.  Hint:  They’re bare down there.

(And need tweezers to do it.)

White Urkel, sometimes joined by a bulbous blob, spouting non-stop negativity to a flock of trained parrots who also can’t offer up a single constructive idea, having never had one.  Now THERE’S something I really want to witness—never.

At least there’s one upside to these series of tired tirades.  We can’t smell the practitioners.

According to an Environmental Protection Agency report, every time the organizers flung open the doors to air out the stench at Nerdstock, er, Starrcast, the fumes melted another iceberg.

It is a known fact, whenever one of these geek gatherings is in town, the hotels suspend laundry service, knowing none of the guests will ever request it.  Then, of course, they have to fumigate each of the beds once the dorks depart.  Naturally, the sheets are tossed into the incinerator, as it’s too difficult to get all those flatulence-induced skidmarks off them.

I wonder how many of the Tuber Tubbies return home to discover their entire family has moved to another state and left no forwarding addresses.  Oh, well, at least when the “important wrestling personalities” return to work, the Arby’s manager will hook them up with new uniforms.

Can’t have an “influential internet star” cleaning the toilets in the NJPW shirt he’s been wearing all week!

What’s that, buffalo breath?  You have a YouTube channel and take exception to being described as a mouthy malcontent who has less knowledge of the stretchin’ profession that a three-toed sloth does of Sir Isaac Newton’s take on soft-boiled eggs?

Well, then, Mister “I Actually Think I Look Really Cool In My Profile Picture, Wearing A Headset Any Schmoe Can Buy On Amazon,” let me put it another way.  I was going to list the name of everyone who understands more about wrestling than you do, but the WordPress word limit prohibits me from naming every person on the planet.

Your tenuous grasp of the bonebending business is only matched by your tenuous grasp of reality, Ace.  Now, go sit before your highly original backdrop of wrestling toys, and cry about that for two hours.

Shoo, shoo!!!

 

Random Numskullery Recently Encountered

*Before Money In The Bank, pinheads were predicting Sasha Banks would not only somehow weasel her way into the women’s ladder match, but also cop the briefcase.

Right.  Someone who got sent home for disciplinary reasons including publicly moaning about the company’s booking decisions—which she was okay with when they chose to make her singles champ four times—is going to get REWARDED…and with a world title shot, no less.

Even if Vincent Kennedy McMahon finally made his first bad decision, the prissy prima donna would probably get injured three more times between MITB and SummerSlam. May as well change her name to Miss Sterio, as often as sloppy Sasha in out of action.

*AEW apologists and stooges are going around declaring “I’m all for many promotions doing well, because it creates jobs for wrestlers and others, and creates healthy competition.”  All true, and thoughts I’ve expressed myself.  Though without a finger up one nostril.

HOWEVER, these are the same “open-minded” mollusks who have publicly gloated every time TNA/Impact hit a bumpy patch, never supporting that company or Ring Of Honor except for the period when their Bullet Club buddies were with the latter.

Additionally, they’re now staunchly against the biggest promotion in the world and have been stupid enough to constantly “choose sides”—instead of simply enjoying all promotions—dating back to the Monday Night Wars (and beyond, in some instances.)

Tony Khan’d opens his wallet for Cody and clique, and suddenly these hypocrites have turned hippie, expressing love for the health of the entire industry…as long at it excludes the “evil” WWE.

And they’re still not supporting Impact, ROH, Shimmer, MLW or anything else perceived as competition for AEW, and are attacking anyone who dares to casually mention that All Elite doesn’t appeal to him or her.  “We are all for competition…just not against us.”

“Better” still, this biased BS is coming before AEW has aired a single television episode.  In other words, they’re twisting themselves into pretzels, white-knighting a product they are guessing is going to be good.

That’s as idiotic as hearing that Steven Spielberg is making a movie with a few popular actors, and giving it a rave review before it is even produced.    And the two-faced fans’ level of hypocrisy is the equivalent of, say, a new promotion starting up—billed as “changing the world,” innovative and fresh—then hiring an announcer who is the most identifiably WWE non-wrestler alive and the stalest symbol of the Old Guard.

That would be Just Ridiculous.  Or J.R., for short.

SS49–In AWE of AEW

StaStaBlueNICE48size

Because every online wrestling “expert” has assured us All Elite Wrestling is going to “change the world,” drive the WWE right out of business and reverse climate change–even though the man in charge and his growing list of Executive Producers have never previously spent a single day in their positions and the promotion has yet to have one match—I am completely convinced said mat world wizards are indeed correct.

I mean they must be correct; because, if you check their entire history of postings, you won’t find a single apology regarding ever being incorrect!  Like, for example, no one in 2018 claimed the WWE had irreversibly “buried” Daniel Bryan and Becky. Or, in 2019, declared Kenny Omega was going to be the surprise entrant in the Royal Rumble.

Now that it has been firmly established beyond question that AEW will dominate the bonebending business for centuries to come, I have kindly put my mammoth brain to work, drawing up a few policies that, once implemented, will make this powerhouse promotion even more, um, powerhousey.

*Men in hazmat suits at shows’ doors to check for lice, and use a special Odorama device to detect if the potential entrant has showered in the past 72 hours.  No neckbeards will be permitted.  Ditto ridiculous sideburns or bandanas to hide receding hairlines—meaning the Jacksons will have to “executive produce” from the parking lot.

*Fans will not be referred to as a “universe,” but rather as “Elitists”…which they are anyway, with their highly unwarranted superiority complexes and smug attitude regarding “casuals.”

*The few broads in the promotion will not be subjected to wearing tiny outfits in order to allow lecherous slobs to get cheap thrills, a la Alexa Bliss.  That would be inexcusable.  Instead, the AEW women will be totally nude except for a thin coating of baby oil.

*Every time Omega is “selling” a now-ruined former finisher for two seconds, color commentator Stately Wayne Manor (oh, you didn’t know?) will shout “Oh, my God, they killed Kenny!!!”

*All pins will be for a six-count (since 98 percent of three-count pins will be kicked out of anyway.)

*Because AEW represents a serious sport for the mat connoisseur, only trained professional wrestlers will serve as Joey Ryan’s penis druids.

*All crowd chants must include the wrestler’s full name as it appears on his birth certificate.  This demonstrates the chanter is a true insider, unlike those peons who foolishly chant a grappler’s ring name or his former indie circuit moniker.

*Like in gymnastics and figure skating, every member of the audience shall hold up a card after each match, denoting the star rating it deserves.  Because AEW can do no wrong, the card set begins with four stars and goes up to ten.

*During the first intermission, there will be a WWE hating contest (even though it was the WWE who made most fans aware of the two biggest names on the card.)

*Security will bodily eject anyone caught cheering for babyfaces and booing the heels.

*Admission to pre-show meet-and-greet sessions will be absolutely FREE.  There will, however, be a $40 charge to exit.

*To satisfy the desires of the intellectuals in the Internet Wrestling Community, EVERY SINGE AEW employee will be pushed and hold a title, including the ring announcers, timekeeper and Martin R. Lipscomb of Dayton, Ohio, who prints up the programs.

*Streamers should be tossed into the ring not only before and after each match, but also with each near-fall.

*Small-talk between matches should be confined to what certain wrestlers “deserve,” which wrestlers already under contract elsewhere should “join” AEW, and namedropping NJPW talent from the past five years. Extra credit for adding “-san” to each Japanese name, e.g. Naito-san.

*Each arena entrant will receive a set of “opinion cards” in order to ensure everyone continues to Tweet the exact same thing throughout the following weeks.  Example:  Card #7 “Vince McMahon is a billionaire who disgustingly used his wealth to sign up the best indie talent…but Tony Khan didn’t do the exact same thing.”

*Providing intelligence tests for venue admission will allow AEW to make history by being the only promotion ever with an entire card consisting of empty arena matches.

*Because AEW is all about gender equality, brotherhood, being “inclusive,” and similar idealistic crap, the least-renowned former Bullet Club member will henceforth be known as Hangperson Page.

*Because Creative Control is very important to chatty social media masterminds, who have never been nor will ever be in matches and know nothing about the history of WCW, AEW will extend its roster Total Creative Control.  Anyone will have the right to refuse anything.  What could possibly go wrong?

 

The way I see it—and bear in mind I’m never wrong about anything, so this is incredibly important—All Elite Wrestling needs to be built around the one true star among their roster.  A charismatic young man with a real gift for addressing the masses and treating them exactly as they deserve to be treated.

Though only a complete numskull would project AEW to compete directly with the empire built by my good friend Vinny K. McMahon, I can see All Elite running a strong second—but only if Tony “Wrath Of” Khan centers the promotion on its most gifted individual.

That of course eliminates Kenny Overrated, either of the Young Dwarves and the son of the guy I called The American Drum because he got beat on so much.  And since I employed the adjective “young,” that means the chubby ghost of Axl Rose, Chris Jericho, ironically enough, doesn’t make the list.  Everyone knows Fozzy performed “The Star-Spangled Banner”…the day it was written.

No, I am referring to the one true standout amongst the signees.  An ideal personality for the yoots of America and beyond to emulate.  Unflinching in his beliefs while possessing the great bravery it takes to challenge the norm—and quite the snazzy dresser.

If you’re too dense to have figured it out by now, I’ll spell it out for you in three letters:  M-J-F.

I will have to check my road log to see if I was in his hometown nine months before his birth; but I suspect Maxwell Jacob Friedman may very well be my son.

Let’s examine the similarities.

*A dozen years ago, long before that Miz clone cat, I was walking around with “>U” stickers on my clothing. MJF’s slogan is “Better than you.”

*Immeasurably attractive—BOTH of us

*Keenly aware of superiority and not afraid to remind you—BOTH

*Recognizes the typical wrestling fan as a repugnant attention-seeker—BOTH

*Would rather belly-flop into a pool of porcupines than converse with you—BOTH

*Idol of millions yet couldn’t care less what anyone thinks—BOTH

*Immense talent being routinely suppressed by the jealous—BOTH

The only major difference between us is that M, as I call him, is very wealthy, whereas every tightwad publisher I ever worked for will verify I am a poor writer.  In fact, I defy anyone to prove I’m not!

At any rate, although my lawyers advise against it—due to terminology someone like you could never remotely understand—at this time, I would like to publicly and proudly bestow Maxwell with legal permission to refer to himself as SWMJF or Stately, Junior.

What higher endorsement could there possibly be?