Ah, Brooke Hogan and Bully Ray, a match made in limbo. After a lengthy one-week engagement, the attention hounds insisted upon a televised wedding in a wrestling ring (how classy), and then Ray got all prissy when this magical moment was interrupted by the nice fellows from Aces And Eights. Well, boo hoo hoo, for you, Bully.
Even though it was the ultimate insult not to invite his brother D-Von, those fine gentlemen were magnanimous enough to put that aside in order to extend an olive branch and promote cooperation and better understanding between their faction and the TNA roster. Then when, swept up by the tenderness of Ray’s touching vows, they enthusiastically dashed to the ring to provide the customary congratulatory “Job well done” pat on the back, the hotheaded groom and buttinski father-in-law dove to the canvas, playing possum, in a disgraceful attempt to make the well-wishers look bad in front of an international audience.
Meanwhile, genetically engineered to attempt to steal the spotlight on every occasion, the blonde bride responded to a group hug by a pair of Acers by flashing her boobies, in order to….okay, I liked that part. Brought back fond memories of Brookie’s “I’m No Longer A Minor, So You Can’t Get Arrested” very private celebration, just the three of us (me, Brooke and her bikini–but not for long) on her dad’s yacht, the S.S. Has-Been. Anyway…
In my role as an award-winning investigative journalist, I did some research into the background of these motorcycle hobbyists, and can assure you no finer human beings walk the face of the Earth.
For example, Masked Guy #3 was valedictorian of his graduating class at Stanford, where he earned his dual doctorate in Humanities and Physics after turning in his thesis “The String Theory And How Quantum Mechanics Can Make Everyone, Like, Real Happy After World Hunger Is Cured By Importing Foodstuff From A Parallel Universe,” scoring extra credit for writing copies in Sanskrit and hieroglyphics.
And Masked Guy We’re Not Supposed To Recognize As Wes Brisco is renowned throughout Parts Unknown for his tireless work with the Muscular Dystrophy Association, for whom he will take over as host of their annual Labor Day telethon, starting in 2014. (Give til it hurts.)
Why, two of the lovable lugs are in the Guinness Book Of World Records for “Helping The Most Old Ladies Across The Street In A Single Day,” after putting in a grueling 24 hours on NYCs celebrated corner of 53rd and 3rd on August 21, 2010, despite the temperature topping out at 97 degrees, certainly not a comfortable environment when wearing leather vests and masks.
What about that headgear? Shy and sensitive, the Aces prefer to perform their countless philanthropic deeds in anonymity, a praiseworthy display of humility TNA goons have ruined for some by thoughtlessly pulling off said masks and depriving several charities of millions. I hope those TNA thugs are proud of themselves.
Now, as for DOC wielding a hammer, that is because, as a deeply religious man, he strives to take after Joseph, Jesus’ father and a carpenter, the hammer symbolic of DOC’s faith. Although the microphone “mysteriously” failed to pick up the conversation that time DOC tapped Sting’s hands, the former was exalting Paint Puss to “cast aside thine black baseball bat, for it is a tool of the devil,” a direct quote from Scriptures.
Therefore, to speak ill of the right reverend DOC is to say “I hate Jesus Christ and everything he stands for,” you hellbound heathens! Are you listening, Tenay?
NOT THAT I have anything personal against Mick Foney, er, Foley, but making him the first selection for the 2013 WWE Hall Of Fame was an outrage, even if they chose this year to induct him because the NY-area locale meant he’d have a lot less of a distance to hitchhike to the auditorium.
(I just wonder how much dumpster-diving behind tuxedo factories hes going to have to do to find one in checkerboard flannel.)
If we pretend Dude Love never surfaced, the Mickster most certainly had a fine career, after meeting me and being inspired to learn the English language. Nonetheless, there are several ring gladiators who, though undoubtedly snubbed due to envy and bias, deserved to be Hall-inducted before anyone else went in.
Where, for instance, is the love for Bastion Booger? This finely tuned athlete, known for his remarkable natural physique in an era when even the ring announcers were steroid studs, clearly inspired an entire generation to follow his strict dietary regimen and unique training system.
Oh, yeah, I can already hear the know-nothings scoff after looking up a photo of Double-B and passing judgment on a man’s entire career based on one picture. For those who have the gall to question my above statement, let me ask this: If Bastion, as you ignorantly claim, didn’t “inspire an entire generation,” then how come at least 35 percent of all patrons grazing in any shopping mall in the U.S. are built MUCH more like Mr. Booger than like Mr. America?
Then there is Mantaur. In this case, I encourage you to seek out a photo–in order to discover what’s only The Best Gimmick Ever. Please be forewarned: Manny’s menacing headgear may be too nerve-rattling for those prone to nightmares and anyone with a neurological disorder. Insult your physician before gazing upon any image of this highly intimidating beast.
I am willing to wager the true reason ‘Taur has been snubbed annually is: Vince McMahon and the other sissies on the nomination committee are petrified in terror over the prospect of once again staring directly into Mantaur’s soul-etching eyes. And don’t give me any lip about Hall-worthy statistics. Unlike Cena, Undertaker, HBK and similar so-called icons, Mantaur has not lost a pro wrestling match in over ten years! Is he the man? Why, look at the first three letters of his name!!!
Since they’re going with a Northeast/Big Apple theme, it should be pointed out that Wrestling World, as well as several second-rate mat magazines, was rooted in Manhattan, and only one man’s photo and work was featured in every single issue during the last 17 years of its historic existence. He’s also the only person to appear in every issue of Europe’s Power Slam magazine for the past 19 years.
No, it’s not Hulk Hogan, Ric Flair or anyone else in the WWE Hall. The unequaled giant to whom I refer is Stately Wayne Manor, a remarkable he-man I have come to deeply respect for relying on his incredible insight and wit rather than his supermodel looks and astounding personal magnetism.
Yes, before there was a WWE Hall Of Fame, WCW, TNA, Monday Night Raw or Smackdown, there was SWManor, courageously informing a none-too-bright public (that would be you) they are wrong about everything and hopelessly flawed, pathetic creatures whose only chance, remote though it may be, to have even the tiniest shred of hope in their otherwise worthless lives would be to genuflect before their master and accept the superiority that is Manormania.
Yet, for Italian-American Stately generously performing this outstanding public service no matter how poorly an association with you cretinous slobs negatively reflects upon his image of supreme coolness, not once has the Hall hierarchy begged him to bring a much-needed touch of class to their ceremony by lowering himself to share the stage with a bunch of also-rans like Bret Hart and The cRock!
Bruno Sammartino, Italian-American, not in; Domenic Denucci, Italian-American, not in; Salvatore Bellomo, Italian-American, not in; Rico Constantino, Italian-American, not in; Madusa Miceli, Italian-American, not in: Does anyone NOT see what’s going on here? Sure, theyll let Mongolians such as Gorilla Monsoon and Indians like Jay Strongbow join the ranks, but you know the number of goombas they’ve saluted from 1997 to today?
Two–Don Muraco and Ted DiBiase. (The talented one, not the son.)
Thats right, Pete Rose, Bob Uecker and something called a Drew Carey were enshrined, yet despite what Italian-Americans have contributed to the profession in terms of performances and ensuring none of the WWE trucks gets hijacked, a sole pair of paisans was hailed over the past 16 years.
This is how they repay Chef Boyardee for all those years of sponsorship? Madone!