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.

SS53–Deserving…to be an imbecile

I couldn’t imagine living in a nothing-happening, inbred-infested, bad hair life, junk cars out back, hick haven that is the American Deep South.

Parking your pickup truck next to the “fillin’ station” to say Howdy to Floyd and Earl “setting” on cheap folding chairs by the entrance, the sea-ment of the floor stained by spat tobacco.

“Y’all gone huntin’ this Saturday, Virgil?”

“Oon-huh. Soons I git back from my cousin’s wedding to my brother.  Ah done got my best T-shirt all washed up and everything.  Had to dunk it in the crick four dang times to git the stains out of the armpits.  Well, most of ‘em, anyways.”

Yeah, I would rather do a bellyflop onto a corral full of porcupines than live in the collection of trash towns known as The South.

Nonetheless, I will give one of the hillbillies credit.  That Jethro Farnsworthy guy made a fortune ridiculing fellow yahoos with his “You might be a redneck” routine.  He got so rich, in fact, he can now easily afford his daily ritual of burning a Confederate flag outside his condo in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

And now I proudly present my spin of JF’s routine, tailored to match the pro wrestling audience.

 

You might be an imbecile…

…if you ever publicly claimed someone “deserves”…well, anything.

Just because your pampered ass once got a Participation Trophy after being the first one eliminated in a dodge ball game, it doesn’t mean everyone who eats all the vegetables on their dinner plate should get a Congressional Medal Of Honor.

The Pulitzer Prize committee eliminated the Best Wrestling Column award after I easily won it three straight years; but, you didn’t see me writing a 3000-word teary-eyed “That’s so unfair, boohoohoo” essay on Facebook, did you?

Worthless and weak B LOGO MARKED MY GIF

The way you Fantasylandlubbers want wrestling booked, they may as well have that Orca Winfrey broad come out to a roomful of seated grapplers and tell them to look under their chairs, with her chirping “There’s a championship belt for you.  And one for you.  Everybody gets a championship!

“AND A NEW CAR!!!”

Did you ever stop to think, every time you say “Wrestler A deserves the title,” you are also saying that not only the current champ but also everyone else in the locker room doesn’t?  Do you ever stop to think at all?

Every single person on the roster of a nationally televised program spent several years working for chump change, sacrificing their personal lives, rehabbing from injuries, honing their craft, and so on.  Every.  Single.  Person.

But, no; you, the Great Imbecilicus, think you can look down from your ivory tower and proclaim someone warrants a title shot, then spout a bunch of feeble excuses as to why, rather than admitting the wrestler’s chief “qualification” is that you are a big fan of theirs.

In short, you are playing god.

“But but but, Stately,” you wimper, “Wrestler B has been with the promotion five years.”

So what?  Heath Slater and Curtis Axel were with the WWE w-a-y before Becky Lynch and Charlotte Flair yet you never once mentioned how they “deserved” the title shots those bimbos got!

To summarize, by using “deserve,” you are a liar and a hypocrite.

And an imbecile.

You might be an imbecile…

…if you still knock fans by using the terms “mother’s basement” “Cheetos-eating” and/or “neckbeard.”

Are you really claiming the non-Manormaniac fan base is a bunch of no-life odorous malcontents?

Well, you’re right—but let’s see some creativity in place of those shopworn descriptions.  There are loads of better expressions for them collectively or as individuals.  A few that come to mind are Panty Poopers, Los Ignorables, SwampButteers, The Nope To Soap Squad, The Filth Element, Bayou Breath, Razorless Ramon, The Notorious P.I.G. and the NWE (No Women Ever.)

Don’t laugh too loudly at Bray NoDiet and his peers, you superior-feeling “I know all about wrestling because I pay for a news service” chumps using the “mother’s basement” lines to begin with—aka The Snob Mob, Bubble Boys, Smart Farts, and Condescending Cucks.

You spending 85 percent of your free time watching, collecting, conversing about and buying merchandise linked to one topic says more than we need to know about your otherwise empty existence.

You might be an imbecile…

…if you virtue signal on social media.

“There are so many promotions doing wonderful things today.  Why not enjoy them all?”

OOOHHH, SHHHHUUUUTTT UUUPPPPP.

First off, Reverend Retardo, doctors at the University of New Mexico have determined that 97.4 percent of those providing “motivational” chatter are no more qualified to do so than they are to give tap-dancing lessons to drunken squirrels.

Secondly, to answer your stupid question, unlike lobotomized primates such as you, most people do this remarkable thing called “having preferences.”  It’s why, if you enter a building with a sign reading “Restaurant” outside, the waitress hands you a list known as “a menu.”

Granted, after a hard day changing oil filters at Jiffy Lube, it may be too challenging for you to decide upon such difficult, world-changing questions as “Which pro wrestling promotions appeal to me?”  But the rest of us manage—and without your putrid, preachy, pompous, puke-inducing “life-coaching”

So, stick your pulpit up your pooper, pal.

You might be an imbecile…

…if you, someone not in the business, fuss over TV ratings and demographics.

Let’s see.  Do you own, operate, wrestle or ref for a televised promotion?  No?  How about serving as an executive or shareholder in a network televising wrestling?  Ring announce or do commentary?  Involved with the cameras, lighting or sound in any manner?  Cover the sport for a living?

Still no?  Oh, dear.  Do you at least run a merch table or concession stand at the venue where the tapings occur?  Set up the folding chairs, then sweep up after tapings?

None of the above, eh?  Maybe the timekeeper pays you to wash his car.  Hmm, not even that.

Then WHAT THE HELL DO TELEVISION RATING HAVE TO DO WITH YOU?!?

Watch the shows and zip your damn lip.

You might be an imbecile…

…If you fail to repeatedly watch the greatest footage ever added to the WWE Network.

In late August 2019, looking to make the biggest splash as the revamped Network was about to launch, the geniuses in charge of content selection went with a sure thing in the highest demand.  The result was the Hidden Gems found by Searching “ECW 1992.”

Although the third is trash, the first and especially the second are priceless treasures.

Breaking the pair down individually, the very first and very last words you hear on Volume One are “Stately Wayne Manor.”  In between, you actually get to hear my voice on color commentary, absolutely destroying the drivel of Bore-Me Graves and his contemporaries.

I’m only in about half, making it perfectly acceptable to skip over the rest.  The benefit of this is, it get you to Volume Two sooner, wherein you can earwitness me single-handedly carrying the entire promotion on my back and establishing the initials E-C-W, due to my sea-deep credibility and the enormous respect I have among fellow insiders.

While your mind is being blown by my unmatched performance, here’s some other info to take into account, it applying to both volumes.  These were one-camera shoots with no monitors.  There was no director or post-production polishing done.  I had never met either commentary partner until a moment before we started calling the matches.  And some of the BEST stuff—for example, me reciting limericks years before anyone else did them and acted like they originated them—was excluded from the material uploaded!

I am truly amazing.

This may be controversial in some circles, but I will go out on a limb and state “Best Of ECW, Volume 2” is even more must-see than these two legendary collector’s items.

Bam Bam Bigelow And Friends maybe BETTER boxBrody vid cover B

Although Bruiser Brody Memorial is the sentimental choice due to his brutal murder just before the (consequently renamed) tape was released, if I’m being fair-minded, I have to say Bam Bam Bigelow And Friends is the superior effort, and gets my vote as Best Video Of The Eighties.

Yes, you read that right.  These tapes were recorded consecutively in early 1987, lonnggg before Good Old J.O. was slaughtering the pronunciation of Japanese names, and at a time when today’s “puro experts,” asked to name one Japanese wrestler, could only reply “Mr. Fuji.”

The twosome is also historic for being the first time English-language heel color commentary was heard on shows recorded in the Land Of The Rising Sun.

And, wow, what hysterical-yet-blistering commentary it is!  Hey, whattaya know.  Turns out said announcing was done by Stately Wayne Manor as well!!!

Little wonder why this describes me but not you.

WWE Network ULTRASTAR blue