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.

SS48—The Official Wrestling Fan Qualification Quiz

When the Commissioner Of Wrestling, the late and universally liked Harry White, passed away, I pledged to take up some of his duties, as he was a great admirer of the original “Stately States.”  This was a responsibility I took very seriously.

Although many have kicked around the idea for years, I have decided it is time to draw up an official Test To Determine Who Is Permitted To Be A Wrestling Fan.

Of course, promoters don’t want to go out of business: so, there won’t be any requirements along the lines of an IQ over 50 or male fans grooming.  Let’s not get carried away.

Instead, I devised a simple True Or False test that should only take a minute or two to complete.  And I wrote it at a fourth-grade reading level so that the typical not-too-bright fan can comprehend the questions.

Answers are provided below.

True or false…

  1. If you pay for a ticket, you have the right to do anything you please, damn it!
  2. Hardcore wrestling is an art form,
  3. Secretly, you’re glad Roman Reigns got sick, because he sucked and was being shoved down your throat.
  4. Chris Benoit belongs in the WWE Hall Of Fame.
  5. Most of my T-shirts have some sort of wrestling artwork on them.
  6. All of my T-shirts have some sort of wrestling artwork on them.

WWE Network subscription cancel notice

  1. You cancelled the WWE Network over the second Crown Jewel event.  7b.  Made certain everyone knows you quit watching WWE altogether, by being sure to post an announcement online.
  1. Your Twitter handle or Profile includes “heel”, “smark”, “mark”, “WOKEN” and/or #TooSweet, or contains “@WWE” even though you’re not a WWE employee, or is comprised of a combination of two grapplers’ names (e.g. SashaNaito13).
  2. Hot or not, you would never go out with someone who isn’t a dedicated wrestling fan, baby!
  3. Saw a “botch” GIF and expertly explained how the bump should have been taken.
  4. Hey, have you ever agreed that Kenny Omega or another guy or a promotion is great, and you weren’t really familiar with them but didn’t want to look dumb? We’ve all done that, right?  LOL
  5. A world champion needs to wrestle on all or nearly all of his brand’s TV shows.
  6. Asuka has had a terrible 2018.
  7. Having dozens of action figures makes you pretty freakin’ cool and the envy of others.
  8. Promoters should do their utmost to provide a loaded card.
  9. If you ever/have kids, they will be/are named after favorite wrestlers.

 

ANSWERS

Be advised, you need a perfect score to qualify to be a wrestling fan!

Key:  The correct answer to all questions is “False” unless noted otherwise. Consequently, the individual comments below pertain to those who answered “True.”

  1. A ticket purchase entitles you to be a spectator, not a participant. Shut up and sit down, instant test–and life–failure.
  2. Hardcore = retardcore. Any slob can light himself on fire and dive onto a table wrapped in barbed wire.  You should try it sometime.
  3. May your next pizza contain a secret topping—malaria.
  4. True. Much too much attention is paid to what wrestlers do outside the ring, most of it strictly hearsay.  (Did anyone actually see Chris kill himself and his family?)

Do you go to wrestling cards and watch the TV shows to get etiquette lessons, moral guidance, spiritual advice and similar useless crap?  Of course not.  You follow the sport to see someone get slapped silly from LA to Philly.  Heck, people murder their families all the time.  Snowflakes act like there’s something wrong with that.  Pfffft.

  1. True. Spend, spend, spend, friend!
  2. Get a death, loser.
  3. If you were so outraged about Arabian politics, how come you didn’t cancel before the first Crown Jewel? Hmmmm?    7b.  Nobody likes an attention whore.  Actually, nobody likes you anyway.  Lick a fire hydrant ASAP
  1. May an ejected toilet flush from a space station crash through your roof and land squarely in your mouth as you sleep.
  1. I would rather allow a flea-ridden Armenian zombie pickpocket with a loud cough and fatal flatulence into an arena than you.
  2. Go sand the zits off your back, windbag. The closest you’ve ever come to taking a bump is when the school bully slammed you into a locker and broke your clarinet.
  3. Wrong. You are a fraud and still look dumb…and ugly.
  4. Did Bruno Sammartino, Bob Backlund and Hulk Hogan, three of the W/WWF/E’s longest-reigning champions, wrestle of TV every week? NO.  When the Four Horsemen were running wild on WTBS, did Ric Flair wrestle every show?  NO.  Do you know anything about the history of the sport you claim to love?  NO.  Should you be allowed to be a fan?  NO.
  5. Well, yeah, carrying an undefeated streak as Raw champ into Wrestlemania 34 on April 8th—meaning the most dominant wrestler of the entire first quarter of the year—ending 2018 by winning a battle royal then participating in the first-ever women’s TLC match for the SD championship…that must suck.

I bet every wrestler on the planet who didn’t get a WWE contract, undefeated streak, world championship and Wrestlemania booking while remaining injury-free—which is about 99.86 percent of all active wrestlers worldwide—is relieved he (or she) didn’t have such a “terrible” year!

  1. You play with dolls.
  2. True. Promoters are all billionaires who will gleefully dump an unlimited stream of money into their shows.  After all, WRESTLING IS ALL ABOUT PLEASING YOU.

So what if the fee for top talent, refs, security, etc and the cost of the hall and ring rental, insurance, posters, flashy pyros and state-of-the-art lighting and sound system for a 500-seat venue with $20 tickets comes to 50 grand?  That’s only a loss of 40 thou per show, provided it’s a sell-out.

And after the promotion folds, once or twice during the following decade, you can fondly reminisce about it.  That’s all that really matters.

(A comical gnome from Atlantis with a shiny pirate’s chest full of doubloons and rubies will eventually come along and reimburse the promoter anyway.)

But if you don’t want to see the league crash, I suggest going into the locker room, standing on a chair and telling everyone they should work for free.  Do this at the next event you attend.  Don’t worry.  It’s perfectly safe.  When wrestlers apply for their license, they sign a form saying they won’t hit anyone.

  1. Seek professional help, sicko.

 

Becky Lynch is The Man!

Becky Lynch is The Man!

Becky Lynch is The Man!

Becky Lynch is The Man!

BECKY LYNCH IS THE MAN!

No, she isn’t.

I realize the vast majority of you have never spoken to a woman besides the bored girl at the Wendy’s drive-through window; but Becky has something called a “vagina” (google it) and thus can’t be a man.

I should know, the way she’s been throwing herself at me for the past four years.  Not that I can blame her, since there are no real men among her followers.

You see, bubbleheads, what most of you “experts” don’t know is that all the top wrestlers from the British Isles, including Bimbo Becky, Drew McIntyre, Grado, PAC, Sheamus, Jimmy Havoc, Drake Maverick, Paige, Marty Scurll, Katrina Waters and Finn Balor, all grew up reading England’s Power Slam magazine, for which I am the ONLY writer to appear in every issue.  As such, every man in the UK wants to be like me and every woman wants me.

Between my legendary 1985-2001 Wrestling World run and the additional twenty straight years in Power Slam, there’s no question SW Manor is the most influential journalist in wrestling history.

I’m just not one to brag.

“B-b-but saying she’s ‘The Man’ is a strong statement about gender equality.”

Meh, something they cooked up after realizing how moronic “The Man” sounds.

Calling oneself “The Man” as an expression of being the most over of either sex—as apologists claim—clearly suggests being a man is superior to being a woman.  And although it’s true, what kind of cockeyed “feminist” statement is that?

Raunchy Rebecca, as I call her–you know, the chick you claimed was “buried” four months ago—will drop her strap to another broad, and you bandwagon-jumpers will dump her quicker than Snoop Dogg can roll a joint.

Truth of the matter is, she loves being on her back.  At least around me, heh heh heh.

nudge nudge Python GIF

SS42–A Holiday GIFt To One And All

First off, I’d like to thank everyone responsible for me being named 2017 Wrestling GIF Rookie Of The Year.  And what better way to repay the voters and mat fans everywhere than presenting a special encore, spreading the holiday spirit with the warmth for which I am world-renowned?

What wrestlers really think about fans’ opinions and suggestions….

What wrestlers REALLY think about your Tweets

 

The internet, over any mention of Kenny Omega….

drooling spongebob and pals Kenny Omega name mentoined

 

Hulk Hogan has given a new interview….

Pinocchio nose expand Every Hulk Hogan interview ever

 

RVD announces the identity of his new training partner….

Snoop big weed exhale better BIGGER for RVD quip.

 

The entire size of a typical wrestling podcast audience….

Simpsons Milhouse alone your entire podcast audience

 

The Shield reunion is not going as smoothly as expected….

Stooges Answer The Phone MY GIF FULL

 

When dopes who never watched WCW show up wearing their NWO shirts….

face palm MONTAGE VVVG

 

When people believe attendance figures because they were provided by the promoter….

VVG superanimation zoom to many laughing hysterically

 

Self-explanatory….

ICW crying MY GIF

 

Vince McMahon meets up with the guy who talked him into having a Cruiserweight division….

King Of Comedy Jerry strangles Rupert GIF

 

When your “clever” publicity stunt only yields a cease and desist order….

Jughead KOd GIF

 

Ryback embarks on a new career, carpentry….

Keaton GUTSY stunt sawing board GIF

 

The only women on the Chris Jericho cruise realize the type of nerds they’re stuck onboard with the entire time….

trio vomiting

 

Home footage of typical guy constantly posting feminist hyperbole about women’s wrestling….

Mondo Keyhole MY GIF family fun

 

All men really want from ladies wrestling….

Colleen Camp from Clue MY GIF

 

BREAKING:  Originator of the spinarooni identified….

Shemp spinarooni MY GiF

 

When you boast of being a big expert on Japanese wrestling because you’ve been watching NJPW for two years….

Samurai Cop shortie MY GIF

 

When you claim someone is “buried” after he or she lose ONE freakin’ match….Bowie GIF me reacting when some act as if only Sig Kids

 

When wrestling fans follow MMA because a top newsletter guy likes it….

mindless zombies

 

The difference between male and female fans reacting to Roman Reigns….

Project Moon Base MY GIF

 

The proper way to enter a wrestling fan convention…

Blackadder walks out reaction GIF

 

Typical indies match….

Frank Isle instant MY GIF karate watermarked

 

A suitable question at any gathering of obsessive wrestling fans…

Life of Brian any women here GIF

 

SS40–You TOO Can Become An Internet “Wrestling Expert”!!! Here’s How.

 

People often approach me with an inquiry.  “You are a wrestling journalism icon with a worldwide readership for decades.  I would like to be popular on social media; so, what is the procedure for establishing oneself as an online ‘wrestling expert’?”  Here are my observations.
*If a public incident involves multiple names, do a Nancy Grace and, minus any evidence, declare guilty the person whose gimmicked personality you hate based upon hearing “what s/he’s really like.”  To balance things out, blow off or create excuses if the incident involves any of the hip wrestlers.

Roman Reigns has a backstage disagreement with Luke Gallows:  “That’s it.  Reigns should be fired, arrested for mass murder, deported and get his head chopped off.”

Matt Jackson shoots a lion:  “That cat was asking for it.  There’s too many lions as it is.  Practically one in every zoo.  It would be soooo cool if Matt superkicked it.”

 

*Always agree with the majority.  Prove you are a rugged individualist by boldly declaring “Naomi can’t wrestle,” a departing star “wasn’t used right,” and a heavily pushed grappler “doesn’t deserve” a shot at the title—just like the rest of the flock do without exception.

Don’t worry if you privately disagree.  In a few months, the experts will be turning on the individual (WWE roster only) anyway.  Ask Dean Ambrose.

 

*On a related note, NEVER admit to being wrong.  In 2016, those well-informed marketing analysts, the experts, proclaimed “When Bayley gets on the main roster, she’s going to be a merchandise-sales goldmine and draw thousands of kids to shows.  Like a female Cena except Bayley has more than five moves.”

We true professionals reckoned the hate-filled WWE fan base was never going to accept an upbeat woman; but the simians continued to insist they were right—until they were absolutely wrong.

Did they offer an apology?  Hahahaha, good one.  And why should they?  Bayley, like all wrestlers, chose her gimmick and scripted all her promos.  From what can be gleaned by reading internet postings, the top stars also book their own matches and finishes.

Yet another reason Cena sucks is because “he doesn’t put anyone over,” since obviously he can sell the whole match and lose to anyone he wants.  It’s similar to how Reigns went up to Mr. McMahon and insisted on being mega-pushed.

Which brings us to….
 

*Insist Vince McMahon has lost touch and needs to retire.  Yep, it’s dumb luck that Wrestlemania continues to sell out massive stadiums holding tens of thousands and is responsible for tens of millions of dollars changing hands.

And the senile senior must have been out of his mind backing the Network you can’t live without and the employment of Styles, Owens, Nakamura, Balor, Asuka, Rinaldo, Ohno and the rest of the folks the experts salivate over.

Mr. McMahon has nothing to do with anything good, only the bad stuff.  All he ever does all day as Chairman of a billion-dollar corporation is decide—mostly erroneously–who will win upcoming wrestling matches.  So, he should spend more time strategizing about Sami Zayn’s midcard bouts.

 

*Mock things that are none of your business and have no effect at all on the product presented.  For instance, although you were never a TNA employee and their tardiness had absolutely no bearing on your life, the company should be constantly derided for a 2016 period during which they were late paying personnel (while “forgetting” Paul Heyman stiffed numerous grapplers altogether, which is fine because Paul cuts great promos.)

 

*Be a massive hypocrite.  Claim you’re a huuuuuge supporter of indies, then watch their pay shows on an illegal internet stream.  Insist on the importance of quality promos and angles, then flip for Japanese wrestling, which barely contains either.  Claim to have given up on a certain promotion, then post comments about their future shows.  Maintain a COMPLETE double-standard when it comes to critiquing a fashionable star or promotion.

Harshly badmouth someone on social media DMs, then buddy up to them on the public version of social media.  Always on the prowl for something new to gripe about, act righteously outraged over some trivia whatzit—e.g. lack of pyros on WWE entrances—you never expressed one iota of caring about in the past.

 

*Read ONLY the headline of a news story, immediately offering up a kneejerk reaction based solely on it.  A perfect July 2017 example was to burst into tears when “they cancelled Talking Smack”—which they didn’t entirely do—even though statistics show only a small fraction of Network subscribers actually watched the weekly show.

Who needs dumb old facts when there’s something new to bellyache about?

 

*Remember, every single indie match is awesome…even after watching Botchamania and witnessing 37 skinny guys in black T-shirts crash and burn.

 

*Go ape for anyone elevated from NXT…until they start losing (e.g. Vaudevillains, The Ascension), then ignore them entirely.  Flipping out over an elevated talent has nothing to do with caring about the individuals.  It’s to prove to other fans that you are faaaaarrrrrr more knowledgeable than them.  You know the catchphrases of someone making their Raw or Smackdown debut?  Wow, you are SO SUPERIOR!!!!!!

 

*Constantly claim a wrestler is “being shoved down our throats.”  It’s a modern world out there; and if you have these homo-erotic fantasies about a sweaty muscular man rolling around with a near-naked opponent, that’s perfect acceptable in many quarters.

 

*Give a “solid thumbs down” or “negative five stars” rating to any card wherein you didn’t like who “won” a predetermined main event—especially if a favorite didn’t leave with the awarded “championship.”

A pinfall finish takes three seconds; a submission may take ten.  By all means disregard the remaining three or four hours, the effort put out by the wrestlers not in the main event, and the work of the announcers and crew.  Dang it, those three seconds altered the fabric of the universe and ruined the entire weekend!

Years from now, while you are on your deathbed and the nurse asks “Did you have any regrets in your life?” undoubtedly the reply will be “Castignoli should have kicked out at two.”  (When you’re super-cool, you call famous wrestlers by their previous indie monikers.)

SS39—Are YOU A True Master Of The Mat World?

If there is one constant in professional wrestling, it’s that everyone opining on social media considers himself an “expert.”  Possibly, even you.  Here’s a litmus test to determine if you truly qualify for such a self-description.

 

Have you ever…

…declared Jinder Mahal is “juiced to the gills”?  Claimed he “didn’t deserve” the SD title shot or subsequent victory?  Bemoaned that he got it because the WWE wants to cash in on the burgeoning Indian market?

…put up good money to launch a podcast wherein the majority of the guests are “friends” who, you know, have never actually been involved in the wrestling business but have watched loads of matches?

…referred to all wrestlers as “Superstars,” any belt as a “title” or “championship,” being that’s the way WWE announcers do so?

…used “heel” as part of your Twitter handle because it’s cool and you’re an easygoing person striving to be popular, never actually doing “heelish” things?

…tweeted to a wrestling celebrity, sprinkling your note with words like “popped” and “buried” so he or she knows you’re a fellow insider?

…run into a wrestler away from the arena (airport, hotel bar, etc.) and ran down your favorite matches from his/her career?

…either to your pals or, better still, to wrestlers’ faces, referred to the latter by their real names (even though you don’t know them personally)?

…used “from what I hear” or “my sources” while meaning “What I read online” or “in a newsletter”?

…chanted “Delete” during a Matt Hardy WWE match despite never watching TNA Impact the entire time he was “Broken”?  Hey, even though that’s where your favorites such as Samoa Joe, Christopher Daniels, Austin Aries, Bobby Roode and AJ Styles first came to your attention, “TNA sucks,” right?  LOL

Well, let the balloons come cascading down from the ceiling, set off the pyros and hit the music.  You’ve just become Jackass Of The Month!  Keep it up and, who knows, you might even be selected Jackass Of The YEAR!!!

 

I’m not about to go over all of the above to prove my point.  First off, you wouldn’t understand most of my explanation.  Having answered “Yes” to any of the above indicates you wouldn’t know the first thing about wrestling if you watched a documentary called The First Thing About Wrestling, read the book it was based upon, and bought the graphic novel then had it read to you by the ghost of Lou Thesz, while attending a seminar entitled “The First Thing About Wrestling.”

I will, however, prove the stupidity of “hardcore” fans by breaking down the Jinder Mahal segment for the imbeciles who agreed with any of it.

*”Juiced to the gills”  Let’s see, the WWE suspended their Golden Boy and main-eventer, one Roman Reigns, for a Wellness Policy violation, but they are turning a blind eye to drug test results of a man who, until late April, was on the bottom third of the card, if used at all.  This would be the testing performed by an independent agency, not the WWE itself.

Uh, yeah, and I suppose you know Jinder is “on steroids” because the Easter bunny rode up on a magic unicorn and told you so.

Ten-to-one you’ve never read the Wellness Policy guidelines, and the closest you come to a workout regimen is your midnight stroke sessions to Shimmer DVDs.  Nonetheless, you know THE TRUTH, since six of the 42 active members of your Facebook group agree with you.

Did any of your fellow blowhards explain how a “roided-up” body improves ring and promo skills?  That’s what I thought.

*Mahal “didn’t deserve” anything.  Answer me this, Junior Einsteins:  How come nobody griped about AJ Styles not “deserving” the big belt after being in the WWE just nine months at the time?

Jinder, despite his superior abilities, had to wait seven years (after becoming a full-timer with the promotion) to get a title shot, even though he was a member of the crowd-pleasing 3MB, still among the most downloaded bands on iTunes.

Mahal remains undefeated in Wrestlemania singles competition; Styles couldn’t even beat Grampa Jericho.  Both members of the feared Ascension have been in the WWE longer than nine months, yet neither even got a chance to qualify to face Orton at Backlash.  Why no complaints about that?  Don’t you “hardcore” fans worship every single NXT talent who makes the main roster?

”It’s all about exploiting a new market.”  Ohhhh, I see; so if, in order to boost business in Asia, Shinguard Nakamura gets to hold the gold, you are going to piss and moan about that, threaten to (but, as always, not follow through) cancel the WWE Network and create crybaby hashtags.

Well, aren’t you?

Perhaps you’re right.  The WWE shouldn’t explore outside revenue opportunities. Sure, your obnoxious behavior has driven Raw and Smackdown ratings to 20-year lows due to you alienating the great casual fans who carried the company for decades; and non-American WWE house shows can’t fill half the seats in big-city arenas even thought they only come to town every three months.

But it’s not like they’re a real business, with stockholders and boards and all that.  Oh, wait.

However, let’s say they decided to follow your harebrained wishes—even though where the WWE tours and markets has absolutely no impact whatsoever on you personally—and just to please you, the goddamn center of the universe, they pass up the potential to pick up a measly $100 million or so.

Are you going to tell me you won’t raise a big stink (beyond your existing repugnant body odor) when, to compensate for lost income, the monthly Network fee is $19.95?  Oh, please.

 

So, yo, “expert,” why don’t you shuffle on out of any conversation about the business end of wrestling and let the grown-ups take care of it?  You are better suited for smarmily mocking fans who buy replica belts—and each drop hundreds of dollars into the company coffer (which YOU don’t do.)

Moron.

Awwww, did the above hurt your wittle feewings?  Don’t let the tears stain your T-shirt emblazoned with the NWO logo…even though you weren’t even watching WCW when the Order caught fire over 20 years ago.

Hang on, I have an idea:  you and your too-sweeting buddies should form your own faction called the NCO—the No Clue Order.

 

SS36—It’s 2017…and you’ll never believe what happens next!

It’s that time of the year again and a Stately States tradition:  A remarkably accurate look into what lies ahead for professional wrestling over the next twelve months.  Once again, I peer into my crystal balls—I have them, you know—and reveal all.

*Needing another three hours to kill, WWE holds a one-night Cruiserweight Classic tourney to crown a new champion.  The 47 in attendance attempt to remain awake by performing the wave, chanting “Mojo Rawley” and doing horrendous Hulk Hogan imitations when the hard-camera light is lit.

*Facebook requires those in Groups listed as “wrestling experts” to provide proof they have any link whatsoever to the sport, beyond merely watching matches.  Membership dips by 97 percent.

*Due to a typo—blamed on auto-correct, as per usual—Wrestlemania 33 is co-headlined by Brock Lesnar vs. Gillberg.  It is still better than any previous Lesnar/Goldberg match.

*On the Smackdown brand Parisian tour, Shane McMahon attempts an elbow drop off the Eiffel Tower.  Video footage surfaces of Stephanie McMahon and Triple H snickering during the resultant funeral services.

*Emmalina finally makes her Raw return, only to announce she has a tag partner, who will also take six months to debut.

*Hoping to recapture public attention, the “It’s still real to me” guy releases a YouTube clip of him whimpering “Paige is still hot, to me.”  Three million fanboys who once masturbated to Paige photos mock him on social media.

*In a scene eerily reminiscent of the movie Scanners, Mauro Ranallo’s entire skull explodes after shouting “A SIDE HEADLOCK!!!” at 153 decibels.  scanners-head-exploding-gif

*The ghost of Gorilla Monsoon taps “announcer” David Otunga on the shoulder and asks “Will you stop?”  It’s “history in the making, folks” as Monsoon becomes the first ghost ever to receive a standing ovation.

*With the introduction of the Weekly Schmoz podcast, every single wrestling reference in the entire galaxy has been used within a name of one of these shows.

*Delicious Dixie Carter presents her own variation of the Kiss My Ass Club, called the Burnish My Butt Brigade, whereupon she rubs her derriere with printouts from 2016 tweets and newsletters gleefully declaring “TNA is dead” and “Dixie is gone.”  In one instance, she uses a Smashing Pumpkins CD booklet.

*Even the staunchest devotee must begrudgingly admit a match held in Japan was “three stars at most.”  Thousands of clothes dryers are stuffed with tear-stained Bullet Club shirts.

*Michael Cole is fined $10,000 for failing to call the 107th Sasha/Charlotte match “historic.”

*Booker T sues Joey Ryan over the name of the latter’s new move, the bonerooni.

*Asuka, Samoa Joe and Nakamura debut on the main roster TOGETHER…at which point all three are simultaneously pinned by the Shining Stars and Alicia Fox in ten seconds and immediately sent back to NXT as a smirking Vince McMahon appears on the Titantron, flipping off the audience.

*Lip-synching is suspected, after Lana performs a complete segment without once forgetting her “Russian accent.”

*Lucha Underground is permanently shut down after President Trump deports three-quarters of its employees.

*Balloons drop from the ceiling, pyros go off in abundance in an April edition of Raw, as Big Show makes his 100th turn.  After a sincere speech thanking everyone for their support, he chokeslams ring announcer JoJo.

*The 2017 Oxford Dictionary For Online Wrestling Sites defines “our sources” as “material we swiped from Dave Meltzer” and “buried” as “term never EVER used correctly.”

*John Cena’s retirement tour features merchandise emblazoned with “U Won’t C Me.”

*A survey reveals that 48 percent of fans tossing streamers at US indie shows do it “because everyone else does” and believe the practice originated in Philadelphia.

*Responding to the “one more match” chant, D-Von Dudley’s last words from within a ring are “Get your own damn tables, fat ass!”

*Viewer confusion hits an all-time high, moving the WWE to adopt “good guy, cheer him” and “bad guy, boo” subtitles on all broadcasts.

*New Flotsam streaming service airs nothing but matches held in school gymnasiums and dingy nightclubs.  Subscribers are paid $9.99 a month.

*Two gals wearing a combined 24 square inches of ring gear rave about how the “women’s revolution” has completely changed the role of females.

*Fans who have never once been in a locker room continue to state former WCW, WWE, TNA and ROH employee Jim Cornette “doesn’t know anything about wrestling, bro.”

*Eighty-nine percent of those who in 2016 claimed the just-released Damian Sandow “should go to TNA, that would be AWESOME!” can’t recall his current ring name and never bought a single piece of his TNA merch.

*The entire industry collapses when a wrestler does not kick out of the first pinfall attempt.  Millions roam the streets worldwide, glassy-eyed, mumbling “What just happened?”

SS35–In defense of wrestling fandom: It’s not your fault….

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Wrestling fandom is rife with kneejerk reactionaries and the hypersensitive, both of whom tend to make unfounded assumptions and far-flung predictions based on the false notion they understand the business. In turn, these supposed “fans” incessantly complain and sulk when their giddy armchair booking demands aren’t immediately obeyed by promoters.

Promoters who have generated millions of dollars in revenue and quite often were in their position before said critics ever witnessed a match.

However, as Wrestling’s Most Reasonable Columnist, I am of the belief you people are not entirely to blame for The Fan Problem we insiders regularly discuss.  And I’ve generously consented to forgive most of you.  After all…

* It’s not your fault…Unlike myself, you didn’t go to what that hillbilly Dusty Rhodes called “the pay winda” for 29 uninterrupted years—longer than The Undertaker, Ric Flair, Jim Ross and Bret Hart, to name just a few fellow legends—haven’t been comped to every show since the early Nineties and don’t routinely chit-chat with Hall Of Famers such as Jerry Lawler and Kurt Angle.

It’s also not your fault that, when Eric Bischoff took over the reins at WCW, he phoned me and not you.  Or that ideas of mine and not yours have been used on Raw, Smackdown, Nitro, Wrestlemania, etc.

As such, since you are devoid of significance in any aspect of wrestling (and life in general), OF COURSE you have no option beyond harebrained pontification and baseless allegations.  Just because you can’t put a coherent sentence together, it doesn’t mean you should quit proving it.  By golly, the Constitution guarantees your unalienable right to express yourself no matter how idiotic you happen to be. U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A.

* It’s not your fault…Your cognitive capacity is severely limited due to genetic aberrations attributed to your paternal bloodline containing bovine and marsupial deoxyribonucleic acid, and your maternal unit continuing to ingest large quantities of inebriants throughout the gestation period.

You most certainly are not to blame for your odd-numbered chromosomal tally and the resultant prohibition of cerebral functions.

Hey, who cares if standardized tests indicate you are best suited for a career as a night watchman at an aquarium or joining your mother in the horizontal entertainment industry?  Personally, I consider wrestling fans the brightest cretins in the whole world!

* It’s not your fault…Your alleged “friends” are enablers who, sharing your excremental outlook and rugged equine features, encourage you to remain in a fantasy world where you address each other as “brother” (while privately badmouthing them in DMs), claim to be straight edge while drunk, and brag about regularly “banging two twenty-year-old chicks” even though you post selfies daily yet none contains an image of even one woman—with the exception of uncomfortable-looking female wrestlers from indie cards.

Still, I’m sure it is very therapeutic, after a long day of performing tasks any other baboon with 20 minutes of training could do with equal aplomb, to hop online because no one nearby has the slightest desire to interact with you, and make all-knowing comments about “the rat scene in Mempho in ’87,” and boast about the wrestlers who really dug you (buying them drinks) when you were “hanging with the boys after the PPV.”  After all, these fictional scenarios could have transpired and some of them did—at least until the alarm clock jolted you awake.

I say “You be you,” brother—well, the pathological fraudulent version your narcissism has fabricated to alleviate the self-loathing that manifests upon the realization one is a failure at every level.

* It’s not your fault…Every single man, woman, child, plant and animal in the galaxy fails to recognize your genius.  (As well as your very existence, in most cases.)

The reason you are universally detested by everyone who has ever spent two minutes in your presence is not just because, if obnoxiousness sold for a penny a ton, you could afford to sponsor the next 27 NASA missions and buy each Super Bowl viewer a Bentley; it’s because you are a misunderstood rebel rallying against the status quo.  Right on, man!

Sure, to the unenlightened, you come off like a racist, homophobic misogynistic colonic-opening, but in fact you are totally pusillanimous—and darn proud of it!!!

There you are, a recreant nematode among men, assisting the public by informing them their taste “sucks” unless they agree with your ignorant proclamations, and by butting into Twitter conversations to name-call complete strangers.  Yet, with all these services you provide and the scrofulous lifestyle you lead daily, the masses refuse to fall at your feet in adoration of your vapid presence.  No wonder you’re a bitter simian!

Worst of all, when it comes to the King Of Sports, the unwashed masses refuse to acknowledge your notional position as a wrestling savant (even though you disappear from any discussion involving events that were not televised within the past two years.)  Damn it, you haven’t spent a lifetime dedicated to avoiding any semblance of sartorial panache and triggering an olfactory response reminiscent of a Mephitis mephitis merely to be ignored by people who actually know what they’re talking about!!!

You perform your duty with high deficiency and a very amoral stance, bereft of great wisdom, and the nadir of wit.  Though no one of note has ever heard of you, every single promoter, booker and wrestler should be lined up at your door, seeking approval and advice.  It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is, a total disgrace.  But keep telling yourself it’s not your fault.  Someday someone else may actually believe it.  Brother.

SS33–R.I.P., Noble Amigo

There have been several tragedies—fatal ones, at that—in the annals of professional wrestling, from the unsolved mystery surrounding the death of Katie Vick to the catastrophic accident forcing the WWF to replace the late Howard Finkel with an imposter in 1997.

But none has been more heartrending than the one televised on July 5, 2016 and forever etched in the souls of viewers.  For, on that fateful night, the world lost a valiant hero, slain while courageously coming to the rescue of his superior.

Rest in peace, Senor Benjamin, rest in peace.

By the time most of you read this, my petition to the North Caroline grand jury—to have Jeff Hardy executed for jabbing Senor Benjamin with a poisoned dart—will be in full motion. Nonetheless, taking one worthless life will never make up for what Jeff Hardy took from the world.

 

Senor Benjamin did not have an easy road to immortality.  Apropos for a humble man, he had humble beginnings.  Senor’s father, Manuel, was a waiter in a second-rate British hotel called Fawlty Towers, a stranger in a strange land, with only his pet hamster Basil to keep him company.  The boy’s mother abandoned the family when Manuel was three months pregnant with Senor Benjamin and his twin brother Benjamin Senor, to star in a short-lived Galavision telenovella Los Amore Terminato about an extremely friendly cyborg from the future.

Senor Benjamin kicked around his hometown of Barcelona, going through a string of unrewarding jobs to ward off starvation.  Spare-tire inflator at a bus factory, glockenspiel player in the band Punk Floyd, postage stamp licker for a man with no tongue, door-to-door bowling ball hole driller, freelance bicycle seat leveler—none of these producing an ounce of personal satisfaction.  Yet, being the man among men he was, Senor Benjamin soldiered on and, unlike Internet Wrestling Community crybabies, never once complained.

Finally, Senorita Luck smiled briefly upon our hero, rewarding him with a World Championship Wrestling contract, where he performed under the name Juventud Guerrero, alongside his cousins Eddie, Vickie and Chico.  Senor Benjamin even managed to get his brother Benjamin Senor a vital role within the company:  official piano tuner for The Maestro!

Ah, but although “Juventud” earned a respectable sum of dinero during his WCW run, he ultimately ended up penniless.  According to partially censored legal documents, the luchadore was persuaded to invest his entire savings in Weaselco, a non-existent corporation operated by a man partially identified as B—- “The Brain” H—–, who used the funds to import a gorilla from Mongolia.

(Interpol is still hoping to interview the gorilla and has learned he is traveling under the assumed name Occipital Protuberence.)

 

Senor Benjamin’s WCW stint qualified him to join the Professional Wrestlers Union and remain a member well after his retirement from the ring.  During a meeting to discuss changes in the union’s billion-dollar pension fund, SB had the encounter that would change his life forever.  He would meet one Matthew Bartholomew Hardly III.

Always a sensitive, giving person, Matthew sympathized with the plight of the destitute gentleman, recalling the dark days when he himself had less than ten million in the bank.  Without giving it a second thought, the Broken One reached into his pocket and handed the sad-faced Latino an application to work at Matticello, Mister Hardy’s North Carolina estate.

As professional wrestling’s only REAL journalist, I interviewed Senor Benjamin just two days prior to his assassination at the hands of the coward Jeff Hardy.  Here’s what he had to tell me.

“When I first came here, El Jefe, he said to me ‘Someday, this may all be yours’,” pointing to a weed whacker and a slightly rusty shovel.  Wiping a tear of joy from his left eye, Senor Benjamin continued.

“Senor Matthew, he is the wonderful fellow.  He only charges me $200 a week to work here, and even pays for half of the gas in the lawn mower.

“I have a very comfortable room above the garage, although she does smell funny sometimes when the boss starts up all his cars each week to charge the batteries.  One time, Senor Matthew, he even let me drive the older Bentley from the garage to the front door after I finished polishing the rest of them!”

 

By now, you’ve all seen the Oscar-nominated documentary Final Deletion and witnessed first-hand how Senor Benjamin selflessly rushed to the aid of his imperiled employer, only to be murdered by Deleted Hardy, who would also attempt to slay his own brother by diving onto him from a 50-foot-high tree branch.

In a further deplorable development, the sicko desecrated Senor Benjamin’s lifeless body by stripping him naked and, even worse, garbing him in a Willow costume!

What kind of pervert callously snuffs out the life of a well-meaning bystander then defiles his corpse?  I’ll tell you what kind:  one who should be executed AT ONCE!!!

Ordinarily, I’d recommend putting Jefferson Hardy in a hot-air balloon and tossing him overboard at a deadly height.  But this homicidal maniac enjoys getting high and most certainly does not deserve any final reward.

I say he should be put in a dilapidated boat, dropped in the middle of the Bering Sea and buzzed by a dozen drones with holograms shouting “Murderer!” for an hour before they sweep in to gang-taze the repulsive reprobate to death.

While it’s common knowledge I have stated “typical wrestling fans possess the mental capacity of a jellyfish swimming in a tankful of vodka,” PLEASE, just this once, join me in insisting that Deleted Hardy be immediately brought to justice.

Don’t do it for my sake.  Do it to honor the memory of noble Senor Benjamin.  #SenorLivesMatter

 

Now, I’ve heard from some who, unable to cope with the heartache, erroneously believe Senor Benjamin to be still among us, even citing recent tweets as “evidence.”  I’m going to let you in on a little secret, brothers and sisters.  And remember, you’re reading it online, so it must be true.

Being a compassionate individual deeply concerned about public morale, Broken Matthew has generously allowed Senor Benjamin’s twin brother to replace his fallen sibling—thus the Twitter handle @BenjaminSenor—and to merchandise T-shirt in order to raise funds for the Senor Benjamin Memorial Library and the installation of a second eternal flame in Arlington National Cemetery, beside Senor Benjamin’s resting place.

Alas, Senor Benjamin is gone.  But he will nevah evah be forgotten.

 

SS32—Quiz Time: Are you a TRUE wrestling fan?

We’ve all seen those annoying click-bait links with headlines screaming something like “Ten ways to tell if you are REALLY ______,” most often a scam to get you to advance through a bombardment of ads…at least until you become fed up with the whole mess and say “The hell with this crap!”  This is NOT one of those quizzes.

Most of us have also seen a tsunami of claims on social and traditional media, wherein a mat sport enthusiast rambles on about how “nobody” is a bigger fan of the bonebending business than him.  You undoubtedly rolled your eyes, knowing YOU are the truest wrestling fan around.  I say it’s time to put these claims to the test—literally, as I have created the following to put an actual numerical value on devotion to the King Of Sports.

Give yourself five points for each of the following:

  • Threw streamers in the ring at an indy card
  • Got super-pumped over the announcement of Nakamura coming to NXT despite never having actually seen him wrestle before
  • Referred to a wrestler by his previous name, e.g. Ambrose as Jon Moxley
  • Declared a reportedly disgruntled wrestler should go to Japan, where he’d really shine
  • Claim to not follow the WWE but post Facebook comments about the latest PPV and Raw
  • Made a sign to bring to a TV taping, it being the exact phrasing someone else used before
  • Declared TNA dead and gloated about it
  • Denounced hipsters while attending a rinky-dink indy card then blowing off the WWE event in the same town that weekend
  • Have more wrestling DVDs than movie ones
  • Defended against criticism of your favorite by quoting something from the wrestler’s biography or podcast
  • Agree the NWO is the greatest thing that ever happened to wrestling
  • Called the 2016 event “the worst Wrestlemania ever”
  • Thought it would be so cool if Roman Reigns suffered a career-ending injury
  • Privately thought “Don’t worry about what words Hulk Hogan used on some stupid video, he’s still my hero”
  • Proud owner of a kick-ass Fozzy CD
  • Never saw a Japanese match that wasn’t “awesome”
  • Suggested a wrestler just released by the WWE should “go to NXT”
  • Consider CM Punk’s “pipe bomb” promo the best ever because he wasn’t following any script or pre-approved guidelines
  • Upset over a recent event, Tweeted #CancelWWENetwork

MULTIPLE CHOICE bonus points

1) My chief qualification for declaring myself a bona fide wrestling expert is…

  1. Having watched it on TV for many years
  2. Subscribing to a famous newsletter
  3. Working in a retail store
  4. Took a college Creative Writing course
  5. Once bumped into Gene Okerlund at a 7-11

2) My Bullet Club shirt is…

  1. Black
  2. Red
  3. Dark blue
  4. Made it myself with a white T-shirt and Sharpie

3) If I met Triple-H, I would…

  1. Go into great detail about a feud he had in 1996
  2. Beg him to tell me “Suck it!”
  3. Wet my pants
  4. Try to hide my boner

4) The closest I ever came to sex with a woman was…

  1. Got Molly Holly’s autograph at a convention
  2. Skype session with Sunny
  3. Popping out of my mother’s vagina at birth
  4. What’s a woman?

SCORING

Surprise—To express my gratitude for the support shown me over the years, I’ve decided that any letter selected in the Multiple Choice section earns you five points.  Way to go, Champ!

Okay, friends, time to add up all your points and learn exactly where you stand.

Over 75 points   Worthless wussy windbag blindly going along with other morons.
50 to 74   Take a look at the above; the same applies to you
25 to 49   Ditto, delusional dunce
5 to 24     Just as horrible as the other birdbrains
Zero       Obviously a liar and a cheater.  I admire that in a person!

Here’s the thing:  If you were a TRUE wrestling expert, you’d be well-aware of what I’m like and, consequently, not have been stupid enough to get suckered into wasting your time on this quiz.  In fact, at this very moment, I’m laughing hysterically at you over the fact you are still reading this very paragraph!

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?