SS49–In AWE of AEW

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?

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.

7. 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.

8. 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).
9. Hot or not, you would never go out with someone who isn’t a dedicated wrestling fan, baby!
10. Saw a “botch” GIF and expertly explained how the bump should have been taken.
11. 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
12. A world champion needs to wrestle on all or nearly all of his brand’s TV shows.
13. Asuka has had a terrible 2018.
14. Having dozens of action figures makes you pretty freakin’ cool and the envy of others.
15. Promoters should do their utmost to provide a loaded card.
16. 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.

5. True. Spend, spend, spend, friend!
6. Get a death, loser.
7. 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

8. May an ejected toilet flush from a space station crash through your roof and land squarely in your mouth as you sleep.

9. I would rather allow a flea-ridden Armenian zombie pickpocket with a loud cough and fatal flatulence into an arena than you.
10. 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.
11. Wrong. You are a fraud and still look dumb…and ugly.
12. 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.
13. Well, yeah, carrying an undefeated streak as Raw champ into Wrestlemania 34 on April 8^th—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!

14. You play with dolls.
15. 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.

16. 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.

SS46–Broad Jumping; Atrophy In The UK; Why Roman Reigns

Ever chant or write that “Roman Reigns “can’t wrestle”?  Well, then you are an imbecile.  I may have spent over 30 years hilariously ridiculing deserving bonebenders, but that doesn’t mean I won’t recognize the fact that nobody in a national-television promotion “can’t wrestle.”

Except for most of the broads, of course.  But it’s adorable how they try to have matches just like the men, a few of them having worked their way all the way up to average!

Still, as long as they wear those butt-hugging bottoms made up of 14 square inches of fabric–”women’s revolution” wink-wink—and admit their inferiority to men, I say we let them roll around on the canvas and pretend they’re real wrestlers.

But only the hot ones, natch.

We certainly don’t need to watch the oaf Sasha Banks tripping over her feet every week.  Or the Asslicker, Becky Lynch, Ireland’s most embarrassing export—which is REALLY saying something, considering the primary thing that putrid country is known for is rampant alcoholism.

It’s little wonder the English hate them.  Not that they have room to talk.

For the unfamiliar, England is an international has-been country where they can’t sit still for five minutes without breaking into some sort of chant, a carryover from watching the terminally boring soccer games, wherein men is sissy shorts run around kicking each other in the shins for four hours until one klutz eventually scores a point.

(Except in the World Cup, a tournament in which an Englishman hasn’t seen a finals victory since their Queen Lizzy visited Paris to witness the grand opening of the Eiffel Tower.)

England is also where, due to a combination of disgraceful nationalism, snobbery and an inferiority complex, fans claim every single wrestler born there is fantastic—even the boy ballerina William The Osprey—while constantly bragging about their “wrestling boom.”  Then you see photos of the events, and they are taking place in a joint that seat about 47, including the timekeeper, the ring announcer and the beer vendor’s tired wife.

Between the sheeplike chanting and the general ugliness of English males, it’s easy to understand why Brit broads are so eager to get some US beef in their diets.  Known worldwide for centuries as pushovers, Anglo ladies are hardly the prettiest posies in the garden; but they tend to make up for it, if you know what I mean.

(And if you own an NWO T-shirt, you likely don’t.)

I nobly went on record admitting a decent percent of English babes possess the most important characteristic a dame can ever have—a fine bod.  An admirable attribute considering, just like their mothers and grandmothers before them, these honeys will drop their knickers for an American before one of us can finish the first syllable of “hello.”

Britain’s classiest broads are a bit of all right, eh?  Say no more, say no MORE!

The classiest, most attractive English chickadees are called “chavs” by their countrymen.  But visiting American wrestlers generally use my term for typical British women, “skanks for Yanks.”

You’ll have to take my word for it, seeing how you don’t actually know any grapplers.  Hey, “huge wrestling fan,” how’s that List Of Lame Excuses For Not Getting Involved In The Sport coming along?

Tell you what.  I’ll simplify it for you.

Just select from…

1. As with everything else in life, I’m all talk.
2. I am a cringing coward afraid of getting hurt.
3. I don’t have an athletic bone in my whole body, but that doesn’t stop me from criticizing the athleticism of others.
4. Mommy won’t let me.

Ha, just kidding.  We all know the answer is E. All of the above.

 

ANYWAY…now that we’ve sorted the Manormaniacs from the mini-minds—the latter bunch having run off, sulking and not reading the following—let’s get back to Roman Reigns.

Specifically, the crybabies’ complaint about how the handsome Vincent K. McMahon has correctly decided Double-R should be the “face of the WWE.”

The most laughable part of this equation is the fact dimwits are using the expression with no idea what being “the face of the WWE” entails.  If you think it’s all about holding the Universal championship and getting the most exposure on Raw and video game packaging, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission will soon be classifying your brain as a sub-atomic particle.

The Face is the one wrestler who represents the entire company when meeting potential sponsors and business and political VIPs, and appears at endless charity functions as well as on public service material and announcements. He must: be well-spoken but not brash; have the appearance of what non-fans perceive a wrestler to look like; and, possess remarkable composure.

Remember when John Cena learned Mandarin in order to address a roomful of suits in China?  That’s what being The Face is all about.

Also, when an incumbent (in this case, Cena) is in the process of giving up the throne, the replacement should be of an age that ensures he is going to be active for many years to come.

When you armchair geniuses add up all the preferred traits, who on the WWE roster is better qualified than the just-turned-33 Roman Reigns?

Let’s go down the Fanboy Faves list.

*AJ Styles  Besides the fact AJ has passed 40—but only in age, not IQ—we all suffered through what a complete disaster it was when the hopping hillbilly spent years attempting to complete a sentence, prior to getting scripted promos upon signing with the WWE.  Now just imagine this nincompoop addressing a group of Oxford science majors, uttering “Ha, y’all.  Ah believe the world is flat.”

This is a man who thinks taxidermy is the study of cabs, marijuana comes from potholes and a collage is a fancy university.  The numskull who once brought a skateboard on a submarine ride and went up to a guide at Sea World and asked where they keep the tigers.  Who doesn’t use All laundry detergent if he’s only washing some of his clothes. AJ Styles is the only person alive who owns a Samsung dumb phone.

Rare photo of AJ Styles in his school yearbook

*Braun Strowman  A very viable candidate…as soon as someone finds a way to make it 1986 again.

Half-buffoon, half-cartoon, I’m surprised his tag partner at Wrestlemania wasn’t Wile E. Coyote.

And what the hell does “Get these hands” even mean?  Is he auctioning them off on eBay?

[Strowman sidebar.  Rarely ever loses; prominently featured on Raw’s biggest segments all year, frequently main-eventing the show; wins the Money In The Bank match—so, Reigns-bashers, doesn’t that mean “He’s being shoved down our throats?]

 

*Daniel Bryan  With that unkempt hair and beard, and standing 5’4”, the scruffy squirt may pass as Charles Manson’s son; but nobody in the business world is going to take Cryin’ Bryan seriously or even believe he was ever world champ.  The munchkin once got a black eye running into a fire hydrant, for Christ’s sake!

Besides, if the going gets rough, he’ll no doubt once again quit, just like he did in 2016 after a minor head injury, as outlined in this earlier Stately States https://bit.ly/1ScpS8H

 

*The Hardlys.  And, yes, my pal Jerry Lawler borrowed that nickname from one of my columns.

#WOKEN and his brother #DRUNKEN are horrendous options to serve as The Face. Matt, pushing 50 years of age, took a quarter-century to come up with a memorable phrase—actually, one word—and needed his old lady and Germy Borash to assist with that.  What a trainwreck it would be to have the senile senior repping the Connecticut corporation.

Granted, Jeff has a good look (when he’s not smearing paint on his mug), but even in his rare moments of sobriety, he’s not suited to mingle with anyone—at least not until the WWE starts conducting business on his home planet in Alpha Centauri.

Weird, the man’s weird, I tell ya.  Did you know Jeff Hardy’s favorite pizza topping is eggshells?  That he recently spray-painted all his cars pitch black—including the windows?  He built a unicycle with a cactus in place of the seat?

 Jeff Hardy’s toughest 2018 nemesis

*Other Shield members  Cross Selfie Seth off the list pronto, Tonto.  Had two or three passable matches in the Spring and consequently became the Fair-Weather Fan Favorite of the season.  By Halloween, the “devoted” will have bailed on Rollins the same way they do any NXT call-up who loses two matches after debuting on the main roster.  (Incidentally, how did ignoring my warnings and going berserk over Enzo & Big Cass work out for you guys?)

As for Dean Ambrose…you’re joking right?  No way the impeccably groomed Mister McMahon would choose to be represented by a man who washes his hair every ten days—and only because The Lunatic Skunk occasionally gets caught in the rain.

And that nasal drone of a voice!  If Ambrose ever gave a lengthy speech at any sort of conference, they’d have to call in the coroner to count how many audience members hanged themselves to escape the torture.

I’d rather hear a sedated Pee Wee Herman with a nasty head cold read the Lithuanian translation of the entire Lord Of The Rings trilogy than endure a half-hour of Dullard Dino.

 

Is Roman Reigns perfectly built to be The Face?  No, and, unfortunately, the ideal man for the job is under contract elsewhere.  So, until Grado becomes a free agent, Reigns is the best candidate for the position.

SS45—MAJOR Wrestling Ultra-legend Officially Approves All In!

It sure had been an amusing interim period since the previous Stately States was published, back in March…if one enjoys the sheer delight that comes with laughing at imbeciles.

Which I truly do.

First up, we got the self-declared “experts with insider knowledge”—the same ones who all-knowingly and constantly declare “Kayfabe is dead”—not knowing padiddle about Moolah’s pile of dirty laundry until hearing of the backlash over the women’s battle royal name.

Kayfabe is what, dope who just got kayfabed?

Never mind that a majority using the term don’t fully understand what it means (including not being aware it can be used as a verb, until I just did so).  And I bet none of the ninnies who blindly repeat “Kayfabe is dead” has ever stopped to think that they’re getting kayfabed by actually believing it.

Better yet, I’ll double down on that, wagering these same boy blunders haven’t the first inkling of why we true insiders chuckle over references to Howard Finkle and a certain type of pastry, LaParka‘s “hobby” and Molly Holly‘s toy collection!

Laughfest number two came courtesy of the first half of the WWE Superstar Shakeup, held on the April 16^th Raw.

By the end of the program, when it had been announced that a handful of the fanboy faves were being shifted to the other brand, the wiz kids were tripping over each other to see who could be the loudest in declaring their undying devotion to the new-and-improved Smackdown.

The very same goobers who, week after week, griped that SDLive had the worst bookers/writers—all of whom remained on Smackdown after the Shakeup.

Naturally, I was scorned for pointing out the above.  After all, AJ Styles was reunited with The Club.  Surely this rivaled the invention of the ring rope, as far as vastly improving the state of the entire wrestling industry forever!  How dare I question the unbending loyalty for which fans are famous.

Again, these declarations of newfound devotion to SDLive came on April 16^th and the days immediately following.

May 2^nd TV ratings come in…annnnnnd SD viewership is the lowest it’s been since October.  On May 9^th, it’s even lower.

Let’s recap.  The first post-Shakeup Smackdown was on April 24^th the second, on May 1st.  Translation:  these fierce loyalists lasted ONE EPISODE before bailing.

Hahahahahahahaha, yet the same nimrods wonder aloud why the WWE higher-ups don’t take you people seriously.  Hoohoohoohoohoo, how imbecilic can ya get?

Funny you should ask.

This brings us to the next side-splitter, a Feigned Outrage Of The Week, the Greatest Royal Rumble taking place in Arabia.

Come on, internet.  You never previously made a single mention of “issues” with Arabian policies.  Because, just like with the Moolah flap, you didn’t know a one of them until someone else moaned.  And admit it:  you really don’t care.

Besides, a good chunk of the “concerned” have ridiculed gays when hanging with buddies, and agree women aren’t men’s equals.  Pffffft, every real man has done that, right, dudes?

Fess up, fellas.  If the WWE announced that the proceeds from the second Arabian show were going to restore your precious pyros and lower T-shirt prices to ten bucks, you’d want the company to return to Arabia tomorrow.

Doesn’t it feel good to finally get that off your chest?  Give me a “Hell, yeah” and a high-five.

Oh, and congratulations.  You just confessed to being a 100-percent, unadulterated, head-to-toe, certified, signed sealed and delivered complete imbecile.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

 

As of this writing, All In 2018 is the Hot Topic.  (Get it? teeheehee)  Roughly 1000 bitter hipsters and hysterical girly-boys combined with 9000 ticket agents/scalpers to sell out an arena located in the national cesspool, Chicago, Illinois.  That is quite an achievement, for sure.

Add that to the gathering of the podcast pontificators and a chance to be in the divine presence of UFC superstar CM Punk, both going down in Chi-Town the day before, and…well, I’ve dubbed the double-wingding “Nerdstock.”

Of course, I would rather chest-bump a nine-foot cactus while listening to country music sung in Klingon than attend Nerdstock or be remotely near Chicago in general.  But I have no problem whatsoever with Nerdstock as a whole.

You see, boys and girls, wrestling has been and always will be about fleecing suckers for as much money as you can squeeze out of them.  Oops, did I say that out loud?  What I meant was “about providing entertainment to the fine individuals who follow the sport.”

So, if dummies, er, devotees want to line up to have Punk avoid eye contact with them as he signs a $40 autograph, be my guest.  In fact, I hope I’m mistaken, and he’s going to do a Q&A session.

[Will one of you guys do me a favor?  Ask the pipebomber “Now that you are out of wrestling and rich enough not to worry about getting a WWE Legends contract, why have you made no effort at all to unionize wrestlers, seeing how you like to portray yourself as the anti-corporate renegade of the people?” Thanks.]

And, in all honesty, there are worse things than wrestling podcast hosts.  Well, okay, there’s only one:  Wrestling YouTube hosts.

As for the All In card itself, if socially inept twits with hilariously unwarranted superiority complexes want to support hypersensitive ego cases who have blocked three-quarters of Twitter for not kissing their feet, go right ahead.  I, for one, think the Aging Bucks have done an excellent job raising the profile of the previously ignored midget tag team ranks.

Let’s not overlook the benefits AI—as in Absence of Intelligence—provides those of us opting out of All In.

*With 10,000 dweebs compressed into one locale, the air quality in the rest of the United States will return to levels unreached since the Industrial Revolution!  The Midwest already reeks of the combination of flatulence and lifelong losers, so it will make little local impact.

*You can go to any other wrestling event that weekend and not be seated with THOSE people.

Imagine how much better a card will be without streamer-tossing, bacon-stuffed, swamp-butted, Walmart-clothed, nose-picking Wally Wanker and his pock-faced pals loudly discussing their star ratings of the just-completed match, nerdsplaining how it wasn’t up to the standards of New Japan–although the closest they themselves have ever come to an athletic endeavor is lifting a double-Whopper out of the bag and failing PE in high school—while something resembling a baby caterpillar nestles into the tablespoon of wax oozing out of Wally’s left ear as he intermittently checks his phone in desperate and always crushed hope that his bootlicking earlier Tweets have gotten a Like from the wrestlers he tagged, the grease from his hair leaving tiny droplets on the tear-stained Samsung screen.

Nope, all THOSE sad sacks will be in the Windbag City!!!

*Women throughout the globe will feel safe to walk the streets.  Mirrors everywhere will be equally safe.

So, yep, Nerdstock is unequivocally Stately-approved.

 

Unless, of course, you pause for a moment to ask how many black men, and women of any race, are or ever were in the Bullet Club.  Or how many blacks of either gender (not married to a Rhodes) are on the whole AI card.*  But I would nnnnnnnever be a spoilsport and bring that up.  So, forget you ever read it.

 

 

*If they fix this bit by September, it just goes to show the unmatched influence of Stately States and its author, Wrestling’s Handsomest Columnist.

SS44—Manor On (Social) Media: You guys are GREAT!

With my Follower total resetting to zero when it hit 70 million, there’s no debating @SWManor is the most popular Twitter account that (sometimes) includes wrestling-related posts.  Consequently, I am constantly flooded with genius-level opinions regarding the King Of Sports.  This time out I will examine the most common of those incredibly astute communications.

 

“RAW and Smackdown are in huge financial trouble.  Look at this picture of all the empty seats in the arena the telecast is coming from tonight.”

Always trust “empty seat” photos posted online, even though the person taking the picture fails to mention it was shot an hour before the show started.  The billion-dollar WWE with two major television outlets currently bidding hundreds of millions for their broadcast rights is in dire financial condition!  I’m selling all my WWE stock right this minute!!!

 

“Chris Benoit should go in the Hall Of Fame.  After all, it’s been ten years and he was never convicted of any crime.”

Right you are, MENSA member.  Let’s take it a step further and also add Adolph Hitler to the Celebrity Wing.  It’s been over seventy years and the Fuhrer never stood trial or was even arrested!

Quite a shame Chuckling Charlie Manson croaked.  His induction speech for ol’ Adolph would have totally ruled, dude.

 

“So awesome seeing all the guys in Bullet Club shirts on WWE TV.”

Yes, these rugged individualists all dressed alike are really sticking it to the WWE by buying those $250 ringside seats then going home to watch good wrestling on the Network.  Right on, brother.  Fight the power!

 

“Now that Dixie Carter is gone, I’m going to give Impact another chance.”

Wow, that is so incredibly kind of you.  The promotion you sneered at for the past ten years while claiming to never watch it—yet being familiar with Bobby Roode, EC3, Eric Young, the Broken gimmick, etc the moment they arrived in NXT/WWE—is going to be blessed with your impartial eyes analyzing the product.  I’m immediately going to phone Scott D’Amore to ensure he sends you a “Thank You” card along with one addressed to your mother, for bringing you into this world.

(Your biological father will get one, too—if he’s ever identified.)

 

“It’s okay.  I’m a heel fan.”

I’ll say you are, buddy!  Don’t be so humble.  You are among the biggest “heel fans” in all of wrestling.*

Can you believe some snowflake SJW buzzkills think that buying a ticket means you are a spectator and not a participant in an event?  Losers.  But, anyway….

The way perfectly chiseled Hercules-lookalike you called that person actually in the business “a fat pig”…I-I-I am nearly at a loss for words, so awestruck by the profundity, originality and jaw-dropping cleverness of your material (…even if it bore no resemblance to something anyone who grasped heeling would say or do.)

And, oh my word, the way you yelled “You slut” at a woman you know nothing about—which, come to think of it, is exactly how much you know about any woman—is pure gold.

But why limit it to shouting from a crowd several feet away?  I say take the next step: wait for a female wrestler in the parking lot, get face-to-face with her while she’s with some of the male wrestlers or her husband, and go “Hey, whore, blow me.”  I can absolutely promise you’ll get an enthusiastic pat on the back and be declared KING of all “heel fans.”*

[*presuming “heel fans” is synonymous with “assholes”…which it is.]

 

“All In 2018 is going to be off the hook!!!”

You know it, baby.  Even though you don’t know minor details like the lineup or if you’ll in fact be able to watch it if not in attendance, it’s going to be lit (since it’s indoors and at night.)  Imagine that—shooting to fill a 10,000-seat venue.  From what I understand, that’s never been done before by any promotion ever. Too sweet me, bro!!!

 

“_____ should go to Japan where he’d be more appreciated.”

Yep.  Wrestling promotions are like social clubs.  Much like you decide to choose a AAA membership for safe motoring, a grappler picks out a promotion, then “joins” NJPW, Progress, Chikara Pro, Impact Wrestling, ICW, Ring Of Honor or whatever else tickles his fancy at the moment.  Any contract he has inked with his current employer can be casually torn up.  It’s only a piece of paper, right?

As TV has taught us, two people sign documents, one turns over the table, then a pull-apart brawl ensues.  Clearly, contracts are just for show and aren’t legally binding or anything.

Also, once a wrestler “joins” another league, he’s instantly installed in a top-tier program to illustrate he’s “more appreciated” than in the past.  This happens every single time, explaining why Samoa Joe and Sami Zayn immediately main-evented on the WWE main roster upon leaving ROH, and have each held multiple WWE titles.

 

“I hate it how he’s being shoved down our throats.”

I know, right?  Every Monday night, here he is being featured for like twenty minutes per episode, doing basically the same thing, since he got his singles push.  Never puts anyone over unless it’s a total fluke or distraction finish.  His “technical ability” is a joke, having maybe five moves.  And how many times do we have to watch him face Brock Lesnar?

Yeah, Braun Strowman needs to go.

 

“I can’t wait to see this indy match featuring Tenille Dashwood!”

It was sooooo unfair of the WWE to cut the historic pioneer of the groundbreaking Women’s Revolution, what with the eardrum-shattering reception Emma was getting upon every entrance and the remarkable way she pulled off the Emmalina makeover.  And who among us does not have a DVR stuffed with her breathtaking matches in NXT and the WWE?  In all honesty, I can’t decide whether the martyred master technician should be called “the modern-day Manami” or “the female Thesz”.

Here’s hoping you enjoy the event.  No doubt Tenille will steal the show.  Especially if it’s held in a Walmart.

 

“We know that everyone hates Roman Reigns.”

Blanket statements with nothing to back them up are very insightful and highly encouraged.  Opinions, facts—pfffft, the same thing.

And by all means use “we,” since you personally are the spokesperson for every single fan across the globe.  Additionally, even though you are the only person manning it, you should use plurals such as “we” and “us” on your site/account to create the illusion you have friends. Not the Facebook kind; but rather people who wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen in public with you (if you can imagine that.)

Also, feel free to constantly refer to “our sources.” It’s a lot easier than typing “something Dave Meltzer or PWInsider posted and I’m just copying so it looks like I get info from someone inside even though the closest I’ve ever come to the industry is once seeing Mikey from the Spirit Squad pulling out of a KFC lot.”

“@VinceMcMahon”

Utter brilliance.  I am certain that, after every PPV and TV broadcast, Vince’s immediate priority is to check his Twitter feed and take fastidious notes regarding what wrestling fans want.  The following morning, he has a meeting with his entire staff, outlining demands made by @smark4life et al, and ordering them to be implemented at once.  That evening, Vince goes through the timelines of each of his two million Followers, hoping the changes met with their approval.

The Chairman contemplating fans’ advice

“Ronda Rousey doesn’t deserve to just walk in and get on Wrestlemania.”

Yeah, look at all the Sports Illustrated spreads, multi-million-dollar-grossing PPVs and Olympic medals Sasha Banks had on her resume before she got to the WWE.  And who’s more of a worldwide household name than “the girl who’s Snoop Dogg’s cousin”?

You were right in criticizing Ronda’s initial promo, too.  I’m sure those badmouthing Rousey could—on their very first speech in a pro wrestling ring, live, in front of millions watching in the arena and at home—knock it clean out of the park.  Especially reciting a memorized scripted promo rather than speaking in their own words.

 

“Finn Balor should have won Elimination Chamber then the Universal Championship at Wrestlemania.”

So true. Mr. McMahon is very fond of smaller guys, particularly men in whom he invests a fortune in time and money then get injured right after the Chairman puts the big strap on them.  Why, he even makes them powerless figurehead GMs after they are forced to retire.

 

SS43–Gazing At My (crystal) Balls

It is very well known within the professional wrestling community—the real one, not just a bunch of online wannabes fantasizing they are part of the business—that I have crystal balls.  As such, it is time once again to peer into my balls and predict with 100-percent accuracy events unfolding in the stretchin’ profession during 2018.

 

January 25—As part of the new Mixed Match format for WWE Facebook, The Authors Of Pain, Absolution and The Undisputed Era compete in a battle royal.  The lone survivor will then face The Empress Of Tomorrow for the Stupidest Goddamn Name trophy, previously won by The Ascension.

 

February 11–University Of Wisconsin doctor Martin Burke develops a surgical procedure whereby any male who regularly follows Total Divas can have his gonads reattached.

 

March 3–The entire independent-wrestling industry is rocked to its very core when a promoter in Billings, Montana composes the standard montage-of-performers poster but not a single one of the pictured stars is sticking out his tongue!!!!!

 

Mid-March–History is made when an entire week passes without some idiot asking Dave Meltzer if NJPW could be a serious threat to the WWE’s American stronghold.

 

March 19–The New York Times publishes a Things That Went Out Of Style Ten Years Ago list.  It includes “a ‘Vote For Pedro’ ringer T-shirt, having a MySpace account and That Lame-Ass Heart-Tapping Gesture Shane McMahon Does.”

 

April 7—A “Thank you, Matthew (clap clap clap)” chant breaks out among 46% if those in attendance at ROH’s big card on Wrestlemania weekend.  This has nothing to do with the just-completed Young Bucks match.  The chanters are all Twitter users Matt Jackson blocked that month during his daily hissy fits.

Tears roll down the cheeks of several, overcome with relief, knowing they will never again be exposed to the defensive dwarf pleading “Why don’t you love me?  I’m telling Mommy,” over even the most minor perceived slight.

April 16—Secretly turning bad guys, The New Day begin pouring horse manure out of Booty-O boxes and into the open mouths and over the heads of unsuspecting nimrods, as the trio makes its entrance on each house show.

Adding fuel to the fire, Xavier announces, “If you don’t like it, you can blow my trombone.”

 

May 2—Not to be outdone by his brother, the returning Jeff Hardy unveils his latest screwball gimmick, a chronic masturbator to be known as #Strokin’ Jeff Hardy.

 

The When Jimmy Hart Was Actually A Good Manager DVD goes on sale Tuesday, May 15.  It consists solely of footage from his Eighties Memphis run.

 

June 6–The WWE brings back Santino Marella to serve as a backstage interviewer, and also signs the king of flippity-dippity garbage, primarily because Vince McMahon (and I) get a big kick out of the Italian calling the Englishman “William the osprey.”

 

Josh Matthews’ hip-hop debut single “I’ve Got Tattoos.  That Makes Me Cool” drops on June 19, becoming the first song on iTunes to register a negative number of downloads.

 

July 10—AJ Styles finally comes clean on blowing off a tour of Australia.  Says the hillbilly halfwit, “Aw, shoot, I don’t wanna get that close to the edge of the world.”

 

President Trump declares July 16^th National Oh, Shut Up Day, in which wrestling enthusiasts are barred, under penalty of execution, from using the words “buried” “kayfabe” (which they don’t understand anyway) “smark” “the script” and “overrated” as well as claiming anyone “deserves” anything or posting photos of empty seats at a televised event.

U.S. internet traffic dips by 57 percent by 2 pm.

 

On a July edition of RAW, as Stephanie McMahon once again rattles off the various “history-making” elements of the female division and “the Women’s Revolution,” a fed-up and quitting Kurt Angle continually interrupts Stunning Steph by interjecting “which the TNA Knockouts did ten years ago.”  (Oh, it’s true.)

August 14–Hulk Hogan blows his entire Gawker settlement on rebuilding the Pontiac Silverdome.  When asked why he would reconstruct an outdated stadium with no sports franchise willing to occupy it, he told the Detriot Free Press, “Because this is where I press-slammed that stinky old giant 27 times in front of three million Hulkamaniacs, brother.”

(No truth to the rumor claiming the Owner’s Box contains a hidden-camera-equipped side room for “hanging and banging” one’s best friend’s wife.)

 

August 29—I finally stop rolling my eyes over Jim Ross’ ridiculous clenched fist photo pose.

September 5–Living up to his nickname, Marty Scurll takes command of the Bullet Club and immediately and permanently disbands the faction “just to fuck over the wankers who dropped hundreds on our merchandise.”

This is in lieu of the Villain’s original plan:  “I was going to keep us together for a month but change our name to the Flaming Dipshits, just to see how many of you lot would walk around with that on your shirts.  But since it’s probably all of you, screw it,” it will later be revealed.

 

On September 22, at 9:27 pm, Richard Blye, 32, of Cold Springs, Ohio, realizes, despite what he’s been claiming on Facebook for four years, Roman Reigns does not in fact “suck”—and that he, Tricky Dick, is a complete asshole.

 

October 6–Briton Percival Smythe-White causes a national uproar by rating a tag contest in Leeds “3 ½ stars,” violating the sacred rule that all Englishmen deem every match taking place in the United Kingdom “an instant classic.”

 

October 15–Caving in to fan’s incessant chants, the WWE signs CM Punk–and immediately books the UFC flop against Brock Lesnar for the RAW main event in the straight-edger’s hometown! Eight seconds after the opening bell sounds, the Greatest WWE Moment Ever occurs, henceforth known as the Chicago Screwjob.

So long, sucker.

November 12–On the heels of the inexplicably popular Chris Jericho Cruise, entrepreneur Kevin Spacey publicizes his forthcoming Chris Kanyon Cruise.  Boy, are dimwitted grappling fans going to be in for a big surprise!!!

 

November 13—Over 100,000 jubilant wrestling nerds converge in the outskirts of New York City to celebrate the WWE.com announcement that Triple-H has finally replaced Vince McMahon as the man in charge.

December 13—Over 100,000 pouting wrestling nerds leap off the Brooklyn Bridge after NOTHING AT ALL HAS CHANGED.

 

December 19–Alex Trebek punches indie failure Ryback in the jaw after the Jeopardy show host reveals a panel reading “Name one vowel” and the Big Goof replies “It’s what you say when you get married.”

 

Bully Ray has, by far, the longest line at his photo-op table during a late December convention in Boston.  Three days later, the densest Dudley learns fans are each supposed to pay him $30 for a picture together, not the other way around.

 

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….

 

The internet, over any mention of Kenny Omega….

 

Hulk Hogan has given a new interview….

 

RVD announces the identity of his new training partner….

 

The entire size of a typical wrestling podcast audience….

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Self-explanatory….

 

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

 

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

 

Ryback embarks on a new career, carpentry….

 

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

 

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

 

All men really want from ladies wrestling….

 

BREAKING:  Originator of the spinarooni identified….

 

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

 

When you claim someone is “buried” after he or she lose ONE freakin’ match….

 

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

 

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

 

The proper way to enter a wrestling fan convention…

 

Typical indies match….

 

A suitable question at any gathering of obsessive wrestling fans…

 

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…

 

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

 

The WWE announces the return of David Otunga…

 

Typical “puro” snob watching the GI Climax tournament…

 

Listening party for the new Fozzy album…

 

Whenever I hear updates on CM Punk…

 

Every time Enzo Amoron’s entrance music hits…

 

The Young Bucks face each other in singles competition…

 

Desperate Toad Gordon launches his new promotion, ECW2…

 

Latest Will Ospreay footage…

 

Originator of the DELETE gesture revealed!

 

Lucha Underground Season Four sneak preview….

 

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

 

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

 

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

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.