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

 

 

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?

SS 41—My GIFt to wrestling

I must admit, I’ve done it again.  If you’ve had the good sense to read my shoot interview profile, http://bit.ly/2bGok4J , you already know about the myriad innovations I introduced to the King Of Sports, the very reason I’m being inducted into the WWE Hall Of Fame next year.

So, add this to the list:  You have seen countless wrestling GIFs on social media; but I’ve come up with an entirely new wrinkle—Wrestling GIFs Without Wrestling!

As with most of my incredible creations, this is bound to be copied elsewhere in short order.  But remember, you saw it here first, Manormaniacs.

 

The ultimate way to watch Total Divas…

react to Total Divas

 

The average IWC member when he finally gets near a pretty girl…

Asian crazy bananas GIF

 

The WWE announces the return of David Otunga…

Slime People return of Otunga

 

Typical “puro” snob watching the GI Climax tournament…

animated guy cumming

 

Listening party for the new Fozzy album…

family guy mass vomit

 

Whenever I hear updates on CM Punk…

Princess Bride shrug

 

Every time Enzo Amoron’s entrance music hits…

python Run Away

 

The Young Bucks face each other in singles competition…

kid kicks pal GIF

 

Desperate Toad Gordon launches his new promotion, ECW2…

total IDIOT backyard GIF

 

Latest Will Ospreay footage…

B Lee New Guinea

 

Originator of the DELETE gesture revealed!

Shatner original DELETE doer

 

Lucha Underground Season Four sneak preview….

Lat Zero Lucha Underground

 

You claim you’re going to cancel the WWE Network or not watch their product again?

girl waves goodbye

 

Doctors release X-rays of Dean Ambrose’s skull…

tumbleweed GIF

 

My message to the Night After Wrestlemania/SummerSlam and all Full Sail audiences…

mr-bean-FUs

SS34–Stately Shoots His Mouth Off

When one has been on the newsstands worldwide for decades nonstop, as I have, the requests pour in on a daily basis.

“Sign with our studio, and we’ll cast you as the next James Bond.”  “LeBron really wants you as point guard/captain this season.”  “Come join our bleeding band and we’ll change our name to Stately Wayne Manor And The Rolling Stones, mate.”

But the most recurrent plea is “It would be a great honor and thrill for all of us wrestling fans if you would do one of those shoot interviews.”

Truth be told, I resisted for quite some time, highly concerned some may mistake me for a braggart.  However, BS Video allowed me to choose my interviewer, so I went with the renowned Shemp Wally Macbeth, who sooooo is not me in disguise, even though we happen to have vaguely similar initials.

And remember, children, just like with the ones you’ve already seen, you should always believe every word in a shoot interview, because people who convincingly fib in front of a camera for a living would NEVER do so away from an arena.

The following is a sampling of some of the topics discussed, the full video “dropping” on September 31st.

Within the wrestling business

Shemp:  What do you consider your greatest among the hundreds of your contributions to professional wrestling?

SWM:  I introduced the letter “s” to the business.  Before I became a huge global influence, “s” was never used.  People would go to see Bruno Ammartino managed by Arnold Kalund, facing Upertar Graham, and the tag team the Amoan, at Madion Quare Garden.  In fact, until I came along, the sport was known as pro wretling.

If you don’t believe me, go ask the star and director of all those Rocky movies.  He was known as Ylveter Tallone prior to my entering the bonebending biz.

S:  I understand you made your first million creating characters for the big national promotions.  How did that work?

SWM:  I’d come up with concepts for guys who were just coming into a company, to give the newbies something to concentrate on and polish on the road before they were actually introduced on TV.  Between my concept and the TV debut, they were sometimes tweaked a teeny-weeny bit.

S:  You are undoubtedly the most creative person ever to step foot in a locker room.  I’d also say most influential man behind the scenes.  Tell us some of your amazing characters, O Dazzling One.

S:  Even though these got changed a smidge, I still got the dough because I had the copyrights.  So I’ve made a bucket of bucks on the coffee king Brewer Brody, painted-face cheapskate Stingy, shoe-gazing emo wrestler The Underachiever, R&B singer Terr Funky, Dork The Clown (which I believe some guy named Frankie is still using), aging hippie Stoned Old Steve Houston, hot female grappler Braless Lesnar, mathematician Kurt Rightangle, Canadian burrito salesmen The Fart Foundation and their friend Taco Santana…just too many to list, really.

S:  You are also known for many brilliant innovations on the actual in-ring-wrestling end of things.  Would you kindly name a few, sir?

SWM:   Well, let’s see.  I invented the figure-one leglock, the 450 hair-pull, working from the horizontal base, the tombstone eye-gouge, the cross-windbreaker, the adequate kick, the Greco-Roman groin-punch, and the shooting star bite, among others.  And because I came from a background in music and also revolutionized that art form, I hold the trademark on the term “The Innovator Of Violins.”

Away from the ring, I’m legendary for the night I kicked the ass of Rick Rude, Steve Williams, the Road Warriors and Haku.

S:  I knew you are a legitimate badass, but those are the toughest guys to ever lace up the boots—and you beat them all at once.  Amazing!

SWM:  Well, I did have hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place.

S:  Speaking of men who had lucrative careers in Japan, before it became the “in” thing a couple of years ago, you not only were a super-expert on Japanese wrestling but also did outstanding color commentary on some videos.

SWM:  Yes, decades before that Mauro “I SCREAM EVERY FREAKING WORD” Rinaldi and Good Old J.O. were doing it.  We’re talking 1987, back when a future legend on one of the tapes was known as The Just Okay Muta.  In fact, Bam Bam Bigelow And Friends, my unmatched debut, was number one on the sales chart for 27 consecutive weeks, outselling Beverly Hills Cop II and Full Metal Jacket.

Not in the United States, but in Liechtenstein and Inner Mongolia.

In private life

S:  You are known within wrestling as a “master swordsman,” a real panty-dropper with the ladies.  Without going into graphic detail, will you drop a few names?

SWM:  Ever heard of Trish Stratus, Victoria, Alicia Fox, Stacy Keibler, Dixie Carter, Lillian Garcia, Mae Young, and Christy Hemme?

S:  Of course.

SWM:  Well, so have I.  Next question.

S:  That is so cool!!!  Wait, Mae Young?

SWM:  I said “Next question”!

S:  Everyone knows you’re a god, an earthbound deity.  What is your religious affiliation?

SWM:  I’m an atheist…but not practicing.

S:  I understand the Pope (the one in Vatican City, not the horrible TNA commentator) got extremely upset about something you once said.

SWM:  That was when I announced I’m bigger than Jesus Christ.  Jesus couldn’t hold a candle to me.  If he tried, it would fall through the hole in his hand. Can’t understand why the Poop just doesn’t admit it and move on.

The Pope.  Isn’t he the goof who makes decrees about marriage, birth control and sex even though he’s never been on a date?  Hey, that gives him something in common with 90-percent of the wrestling fans!

Word association

S:  I’m going to throw out some names, Perfect Master.  Please supply one-line reactions to each.

Mick Foley

Now dying his beard with chimney soot.

The New Day

When you think of what body part “booty” represents and, in turn, what a booty-O can only be, do you really want to put them in your mouth?

Enzo Amore

Enzo A Moron

Big Cass

Big JackCass

Josh Mathews

The brain of Family Guy’s Chris Griffith and the body of Stewie.  (begins singing) B-b-b-b-b-bah, everybody’s heard about the nerd.  Nerd nerd nerd, nerd is the word.

Ric Flair

He used to raise the bar but now he just runs up a huge tab in it.

Sami Zayn

A fraud.

How do you mean?

He’s supposed to have been the big king of the indies, yet I’ve never once seen him take on El Generico.  Same way that Ricochet is dodging Prince Puma now.

Hulk Hogan

Went from the NWO to the KKK.

Bill Apter

You know that classic Santana song “Oye Como Va”?

Uh-huh.

Apter sings a version called “Oy, my comb-over.”

Golden Truth

Old and Goof

Becky Lynch

Mostly red, not over.

Sasha Banks

Not sure she’s really Snoop’s cousin, but she’s definitely a member of the Dogg family.  More like Sasha Barks!  woof-woof

Public interaction

S:  What would you advise a new wrestler wondering how to treat interaction with the fans?

SWM:  Antibiotics.

S:  What do you think would be the single best course of action when it comes to the so-called Internet Wrestling Community?

SWM:  Nothing a little genocide can’t fix.  One of my current projects is:  I’m putting together video clips of IWC idiots whining like little girls and making utter fools of themselves.  It’s going to be called Bitchamania.

S:  I understand you got tricked into joining one of those Facebook wrestling groups.  What’s your opinion of them?

SWM:  I call it wrestling cosplay.  Bunch of nobodies getting together to fantasize they’re somebodies in wrestling even though they’ve never been involved in it at any level.

“I put out a newsletter with 137 readers 25 years ago. That makes me an expert.” “I’m a wrestling expert, too!  My qualifications are: I run a rinky-dink coffee shop with seven employees and collect potato chips.”

“Gee whiz, that’s so awesome. I would blow Gedo if I was ever in the same room!” “Let’s get together and ridicule every single aspect of Raw each Monday and take cheap shots at TNA all week.  We’re HUGE supporters of wrestling.”

Yeah, that’s really cool, kids.

Of course, Twitter has some real winners, too.  That’s why I only allow a few hundred wrestling fans to Follow me and block the ones who keep bugging me to Follow them back.  Anyone know who this @LanceStorm is?  What a nuisance.

S:  You’ve been known to mock podcasts and…

SWM:  Only the amateur ones, which means nearly all of them.

S:   So, you would do one with Colt Cabana?

SWM:  One thing I really can’t stand is people who use obviously fake names.

 

SS31–Mark, My Words

People often come to me and ask, “You are the official longest-running wrestling columnist ever, in REAL magazines sold worldwide, a TRAINED journalist PAID to opine; so what is your take on the multitude of so-called ‘hardcore’ fans who constantly go online and to great lengths to impress each other with their deep insight, the Internet Wrestling Community, also known as the IWC?”

Ah, the sophomoric “smarts.” They’ve always occupied a very special place in my heart. In fact, you know what? I feel a song coming on!

Oh, look, everybody, it’s Mister “IWC”
Whose official scent is known as “faint odor of pee.”
Drool stains and mucus dot the front of your sweater
Claiming you’re an “expert” because you read a newsletter.

Host a podcast, call all everybody “brother”
Only have one listener, and that’s your mother.
Your mom gets all squishy when you mention Bobby Roode
And she’s the only female you’ve ever seen nude.

Never climbed through the ropes, never been in the back
But your cousin knows a neighbor of Outback Jack.
Telling all your buds you’re tight with Terry Funk
Hey, aren’t you the guy who bought that house for Punk?

Got in a picture with Batista ‘cause you gave him forty bucks
Now you claim to be “best friends”; he couldn’t give two f*cks.
Blew your whole life savings on a beat-up old car
Because the dealer said it was once owned by J.R.

Hop onto your mattress pretending you’re with Bayley
Have a photograph of her you “tribute” twice daily
Last month, it was Asuka who was all the rage
Now regrettin’ gettin’ that tattoo of Paige.

No girls know you exist, so you head to Porn Hub
Drop your pants to the floor and rub rub rub rub rub.
Yanking away on what you call “my lady-pleaser”
Doesn’t fill your palm, so you have to use a tweezer.

After you’re through with two hours of fappin’
It’s back to bashing matches that haven’t even happened.
Been a long day of griping, so now it’s off to bed
And your recurring dream of giving The Rock head.

Due to corporate rules at your job at Arby’s
Boss had to invite you to the Christmas party.
Bored everyone to death talking Jushin Liger
Asked to pick a song, you chose “Eye Of The Tiger”!
Went home after the bash, popped in “One Night In Chyna”
Hey, may as well, you’re NEVER gonna touch a vagina.

Tried to act cool with Latinos, told them “I watch ‘LU’”
They grabbed a broomstick, made a piñata out of you.
It wasn’t just that statement that sealed the deal
Was when you said “I know you love to lie, cheat and steal.”

You’re the Boldest Of The Bold, a true Opinion Lord
Behind a phony name and a computer keyboard.
Numero uno, king of the fanboy scene
Claiming “Kayfabe is dead,” don’t even know what it means.
The phrase “New Japan” sends a tingle to your crotch
You’re the “superfan” who’s never heard of Karl Gotch.
Bashing Roman Reigns, Dixie Carter and Russo
When nobody’s around, paint your face up like an Uso.

Rip on the promos (though you’ve never done one)
Rip on the announcing (though you’ve never done one)
Rip on the bumping (though you’ve never done one)
Rip on the booking (though you’ve never done one)
Hmm, starting to see a pattern here, son?

SS27—An Impassioned Open Letter To Wrestling Fans

Dear WWE Superfans:

On behalf of the countless hundreds of us who have made a tidy bundle in the world of sports entertainment, based on you people cheerfully spending the majority of what you earn performing meaningless jobs we wouldn’t dream of taking, I would like to take a moment to pass along an expression of gratitude that has been long overdue.

It’s a simple phrase and one that is constantly on our minds, though we have been wont to publicly express it. But as a senior spokesman for the industry, I have been entrusted to convey our message for all to see.

It goes like this:  Thanks, suckers!

Just think, you are sitting there deprived of the finer things in life, bemoaning the fact a total stranger isn’t holding a “championship” that is rewarded (rather than legitimately won) in a fictional “fight,” while we spend most of our time partying in bars, having unsafe sex with your pushover sisters and being world famous.

And it’s all because sad sacks with no social skills will sit transfixed to a TV set and computer monitor, no matter how high or low the quality of the product.

You know what’s adorable? The way you get up on a soapbox and proclaim you’re going to no longer watch or attend a certain wrestling show. Ooooh, look who’s a big boy now, all partly grown up and declaring “I have a good mind to cancel my WWE Network subscription!” as if you actually have other interests. (Or a good mind.)

It’s even more adorable when, two weeks later, you are on social media commenting on—okay, complaining about—the very event you were (wink-wink) going to skip, or crowing about how “awesome” the just-released DVD set is.

Moving on…I would like to take this opportunity to dispel a few myths currently circulating.

*”They don’t read our e-mails, tweets and Facebook postings.” Poppycock. In fact, the best ones are printed out and passed around the office and locker rooms so everyone can laugh at your harebrained booking suggestions, pompous predictions and failed attempts to grasp the fundamentals of the English language.

I have a jar on my desk, into which I put a dime every time I read that one wrestler should “loose” to another. And every year, I take that accumulated coinage and buy a new Mercedes.

*”All they want is our money.” People, please. We want your attention, money, rides from airports, money, idolization, money, hot mom’s phone number, money, website clicks, money, podcast downloads, money, Twitter following, money, gifts and money.

But not necessarily in that order.

*”They don’t care about the fans.” Utter nonsense! We care deeply that each of you line up in an orderly fashion to pay for autographs at conventions, merchandise at arenas and admission to personal appearance engagements.

We are always delighted to listen to your compliments and learn how you are doing during the five seconds it takes to pose for a $40 Polaroid. Hell, you provide the hand sanitizer and many of us will even shake your paw!

[Photo session tip: Be sure to either make a fist or point to the celebrity. These highly inventive and refreshingly unique poses tell us you are a wily insider who knows words like “move-set” and “bump.”]

We also care you coughed up 10,000 bucks of daddy’s money to accumulate 50 souvenir PPV ringside folding chairs rather than wasting it on something like books or feeding the needy.

After all, how many of those disgusting poor people are ever going to buy one measly Wrestlemania ticket?

Frankly, I find this entire allegation about us not “caring” quite offensive. We have enormous sympathy for you lot, stuck in concrete toilets such as the burgs surrounding the Great Lakes, like the ghost town of Motown and Sh*tcago, aka The Windbag City.

There you sit, your emotional growth permanently paused at age 15, fantasizing you are some sort of “wrestling expert” despite having no understanding of how the business really works. Scar tissue around your eyes from how often you’ve been punched out over your backstabbing “jokes,” an eternally negative attitude about everything.

We don’t blame you for being bitter. Why, you have a Facebook page and once put out a newsletter with 132 readers. That makes you practically royalty! Yet, even though all you ever do is knock Vincent Kennedy McMahon and Dixie Cups Carter, the major promotions don’t immediately follow your dimwitted instructions. Do they not know you had your picture taken with Ricochet’s cousin at a hipster indie show?!?

Gosh darn it, it’s a crying shame your pathetic shell of a life turned out to really really blow. As a matter of fact, just this morning, on the way to my winter home in Boca Raton with Katy Perry, I was moved to tears while contemplating your miserable plight.

Just kidding. You’re a lifelong loser no one outside of your little clique has ever heard of, who never has or ever will earn a penny or participate in any aspect of the sport, while I GOT PAID for decades and was given free tickets for every wrestling event I’ve attended since 1984.

So, again, on behalf of myself and my fellow true insiders, not internet wannabes…Thanks, suckers!

–Stately Wayne Manor
Mount Olympus

SS23–Latest Orders From Stately Central

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Going forward…damn, do I hate that phrase. “In the future” worked perfectly well for centuries; but some business buffoons had to start saying “going forward,” and the sheep trying to look smarter than they truly are followed suit–yet again.

Speaking of simpletons who blindly repeat what other schmucks are spouting, the online wrestling “experts” have all weighed in on Wrestlemania 31. And as per usual, their observations run from unintentionally comedic to about as intelligent as a drug-addled brontosaurus with a migraine headache.

Typing with one hand while, um, “paying homage” to a photo of Paige with the other, pathetic souls flooded Twitter and Facebook like overheated 14-year-old fangirls just back from a One Erection concert wondering why there was moisture in their panties.

[I will pause here for a moment while the bulk of you, who have NO idea what that last phrase meant, go ask your mommies. And if your mother has difficulty remembering, due to your useless old man, show her a photo of me, and the memories will come “flooding” back.]

Of course all the internet chatter is superfluous dribble, as the only thoughts that really count on any subject are MINE.

With that in mind, and equating Wrestlemania with the equivalent of Wrestling New Years Day, here are my commands for what should occur over the next twelve months.

*Unbridled support for the New Day. Its been scientifically proven that 87.5 percent of all wrestling fans are racists, these statistics documented in the 2014 Harvard Study Of Ignorant Honkies.

Oh, that doesn’t mean YOU? Where is the outrage over no Asians being on the WWE main roster and only two in development? How many threatened (and, true to form, chickened out) to Cancel The WWE Network over Mexicool not taking their rightful place in the Hall Of Fame? That’s what I thought.

So here were three young brothers being held back by The Man yet still doing their best to entertain you crackers, and all you did was sit there downloading Iggy Azalea MP3s and thinking that showed you are down. Caucasian, please!

The first thing I want ND to do is invite R-Goof into the ring. At that point, Big-E should say “You all like this man, right? After all, he’s come out for years, rapping and dancing or talking funny as guest commentator. Why, he even went around stealing the Inter-Continental title for a while there!

“Yeah, you ofays get a real laugh out of all that. And who cares if he just reinforces negative stereotypes?” At which point the trio WAILS THE LIVING SNOT OUT OF R-TRUTH.

Cherry on top comes when Xavier stands tall over the half-conscious chump and says, “And that’s Whats Up,” before dropping the mic on the fool.

*Ditto the Beat Down Clan. MVP has retweeted SWM, conclusively proving the man is a certified genius and fine communicator deserving the respect of all. And by being associated with him, the same applies to Kenny King and the rest of the Clan.

The thing is, one would never know it by the rude reception they get despite a history of doing nothing but valiant public services such as kicking Bobby Lashley to the curb and Hopalong Melendez in the dome.

Nope, you’ll get behind milk-pie Drool Galloway and his posse as they continually interfere in fair matches and incite ringsiders to “Stand Up” when in actuality they should be told to shut up.

Don’t insult my superior intelligence by playing innocent. I know EXACTLY why you choose the Galloway goons over the courageous gents in the BDC.

In fact, it’s specifically spelled out on page 47 of the Harvard Study. I’d quote it here, but its not like any of you would comprehend the polysyllabics. (That means “big words,” dummy.)

*I fully support the Give Divas A Chance campaign–as long as the slogan is extended to include “To Strip.”

Let’s be real here. With the exception of Alicia Fox, none of these chickadees qualify to be called “wrestlers.” Even the WWE admits it, refusing to ever refer to the broads by the W-word. Eva Marie? Rosa? Cameron? The Bellends? Are you kidding me? These gals wouldn’t know a suplex from a soup spoon, a bearhug from a bearskin rug or a sunset flip from a potato chip!

Renowned for doing extensive research, I have concluded that part of the problem is the restrictive nature of ring gear…and the only solution is for the Divas–and TNA Knockouts–to slowly remove their attire as appropriate music blares, in the ring before each match.

They’ll still blow, but who cares?!?

*All wrestling fans–especially those in the “IWC” (Internet Wanking Community)–are hereby required to memorize and ABSORB the following.

1) CM Punk is done wrestling. Get over it.

2) Japanese wrestling did not start last year, you’re just too ignorant to have been aware.

3) It is entirely possible to support the WWE and TNA, unless you are a complete halfwit.

4) Most wrestlers think you’re a sucker and only act nice to you so you’ll buy their crap.

5) Rey Misterio was never close to being “the greatest luchadore ever” and you couldn’t name five who have never appeared on Lucha Underground.

6) Tough luck on him croaking and all that, but the Ultimate Wart was not “one of the all-time greats” and doesn’t belong on a Top 500 list, let alone a Top Ten.

7) That deep white thing near the toilet is called a bathtub.

*Reinstate Bashful Bill DeMott then replace NXT on the WWE Network with educational programming.

Mr. DeMott, an Eagle Scout spending most of his spare time snuggling puppies at the animal shelter, is a misunderstood humanitarian who tried his darndest to get a bunch of spoiled sissies prepared for the harsh reality of life on the road. Is it his fault the NXT performers–NOT “superstars”–are whiny softies who somehow objected to diving off 30-foot ladders, just because they had a couple of measly concussions, or thought there was something “wrong” with enjoying the outdoors on a 24-mile sprint while Bill patiently explained the inferiority of their heritage?

Luxury! Why, when I was in reform wrestling school, we used to dream of only having to do a thousand sit-ups before breakfast. And we did them underwater…in a polluted lake…full of rabid eels!!!

No, these NXT crybabies don’t deserve to be on the air; and, besides, Lawd knows wrestling fans can use some educational material in their lives. At Wrestlemania, Triple-H weighed 258–which was also the average SAT score of those in attendance.

*Raw after Mania tickets to be dumped directly into an incinerator. What’s worse than a roomful of the ironically named “smart fans”? A whole arena full of them!

Each year, Mr. McMahon, a long-time fan of mine, BEGS me to attend the broadcast following Wrestlemania; but, though I dread disappointing my old friend, I must respectfully decline. Imagine someone like me spending three hours with someone like, well, YOU. I mean, I have had all my shots; however, there’s no vaccination countering my allergy to nincumpoops! (Who often smell like doggie poops.)

Decked out in what can only be described as 2005 Dumpster Dive, these quasi-literates spend 18 hours a day complaining about something called “booking”–though they’ve never voluntarily been in a library their entire lives–and heaping absurd praise on obscure matches from twelve years ago (which they griped about at the time.)

They know everything about “this business,” including up to a half-dozen insider terms they spout to demonstrate their thorough understanding of the sport. And how did they gain such invaluable insight? Was it from spending grueling hours in a wrestling academy? Working on cards as a grappler, manager, commentator, ref or timekeeper? Covering the scene for decades as a paid professional international columnist?

Nope. Their unmatched wisdom comes from reading (and usually misinterpreting) a weekly newsletter and visiting internet sites, the bulk of which are authored by fellow clueless amateurs with no real industry connections!!!

Seriously, non-wrestling fans, I am not making this up: people who have never been in a locker room let alone participated in a single match or privately spoken to a wrestler beyond asking for an autograph ACTUALLY BELIEVE THEY KNOW MORE ABOUT THE BUSINESS THAN THOSE MAKING A LIVING AT IT.

“Let’s see, I subscribe to Prevention magazine and hang out at WebMD.com, so, yeah, I can perform a kidney transplant.”