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Hey there, Fuckies. I'm Sean Carless and this is the latest stop on the fledgling 'Summer of Sean' tour. An Idea that probably sounded a lot better in my head to be honest. Although, it's not that my heart wasn't in the right place, though (although, with how poorly I take care of myself these days, who knows), but time has become a serious factor lately. It's just so hard to find the time to do something when you'd much rather be doing nothing. Wait. That didn't come out right either.
But hey~! There is a silver lining. I finally found some inspiration this week, and decided to pound some new (ish?) shit out. Not too much, mind you, but hopefully enough to get you fucking jackals off my back for a while!
And with that said, today's chapter will be focused on not one thing in particular, but rather several small musings, opinions and let's face it, out and out stupidity. It's just a fun little distraction. Call it therapy for me, and punishment for you. And by 'punishment' I really mean enlightenment and knowledge...of something. This I'm sure of. (Kind of.).
Onto bidness! [/Dusty Rhodes]
(Thoughts from the mind of Yours Me'ly!)
Hello, My Name is Kevin...The Vampire.
By now, every asshole and his brother has an opinion on the new ECW. And even though I could ramble on and on ad nauseam about things like Mike Knox (I liked him better when he was trapped in the phantom zone with General Zod), how Tommy Dreamer spends more time on his back than a porn star (I picture Iron Mike Sharpe watching the show and saying "Jesus Christ win a match already") and even how Kelly Kelly is programmed as the "face" of ECW-- and a total babyface-- when she's clearly a heel to every ECW fan I know. Hell, I could even compare notes with Kelly on my lack of prowess at removing chick's bras, but I'd think the fact she had breasts for 10 years gives her the edge in ridiculousness. But I'm not going to do that.  What I really want to talk about is my FAVORITE new ECW competitor...Kevin. Yes. Kevin The Vampire. AKA, Kevin Thorn AKA Mordecai. 
And sure, I could go into the awesome parallels between Kevin Thorn and Bram Stoker's Dracula (Both were servants of God who eventually turned into the undead~!) but I'd rather just laugh at "Kevin". And for the record, I know the dude's real name is Kevin Fertig, but "Kevin" doesn't exactly project that gothic feel you'd expect from a centuries old bloodsucker (Not Hulk Hogan). In fact, I'd think it was pretty safe to assume that he was made Nosferatu sometime in the last 40 years with that handle. Not too many "Kev's" running around in 19th century Romania, me thinks.  Seriously, though, Kevin? "Kevin" might be a guy who wears a sweater vest, talks investments with the neighbor through the fence, calls his car "the beemer" and probably as we speak is attending a community meet & greet BBQ. He's certainly not a creature of the night. He's a fucking mortgage broker.
But still, it gets better. (well, to me, anyway). Chances are we'd have never seen him even in the arena EVER, but Joey Styles had to invite his ass in in one of his ECW.com columns. Fucking Joey. Hasn't this guy ever seen a vampire movie? THAT'S HOW IT WORKS.  And now, there's no getting rid of this guy.  Well, until someone brings in the Frog (splash?) brothers anyway.
Anyway, Kevin's first victim was actually Nunzio, and I have to admit, that surprised me. I mean, if you have a fatal allergy to GARLIC, would wrestling an Italian guy really be the best matter of course? And what's the deal with him using a crucifix powerbomb? Shouldn't he have exploded into flames upon impact? MOVIES DON'T LIE. Besides, though, why even bother, using 'catch as catch wrestling', when you can fly, or even disperse your matter into a dozen rats? (Not the Diva Search contestants). And more so than that, if you had power beyond any man's imagination, eternal life, and could regenerate all your wounds (something tells me Kurt Angle is secretly begging to be bit during a match) why go into PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING? "Sure I could rule this planet with an army of subservient undead minions, but I'd rather exchange holds with sweaty guys in bikini shorts. That's where the GLORY is."
Haha, chances are I've probably thought way too much about this (and what happens to Kevin when ECW is books a matinee show in an outdoor arena? Should be awkward) but not as much as Paul Heyman apparently. He warned us that there was a huge Vampire following out there, and even stated they were called "Bite Clubs". Haha, Bite Club. I'd tell you what the first rule was, but I'm not allowed to talk about it. Wait. Oh shit. I'm screwed now. On second thought, maybe bringing in a Fight Club-esque "Bite Club" might be a cool idea. ( Hell, bring in Flair. He can be Bob. They have similar measurements!).
His name was Kevin! His name was Kevin! His name was Kevin! Bite Club, indeed. 
To be honest, I was actually planning on doing an entire column picking apart this abomination much like I did last year, but sadly, it's inspired levels of such absolute apathy that I can't even muster the resolve to completely make fun of it. Gotta love the WWE. The only place in the world where attractive women are made tedious, boring and unappealing. So much so I could barely repeatedly masturbate to it...
For the life of me, I don't even know why they even bother having this thing anymore. The Ratings are irrelevant since USA doesn't pay WWE for ad revenue, and it's even lost that car crash feel it had the first two times around. Maybe Kevin the Vampire ran out of blood and just sucked the charisma out of these women instead? But still, there must be people who care, because there's actually people who are CALLING THEIR VOTES IN  with Text messaging. And don't even get me started on text messaging. I mean, how is this a breakthrough in technology? YOU'RE TYPING MESSAGES instead of talking. This is going backwards, motherfuckers! What's next, rather than call your friends you just release a flock of fucking courier pigeons?
Anyway, the "draw" of this PLOY by WWE.com is apparently the promise that you, John Q. Fucky can win $25,000. And sure your phone bill will be about 30 large, but a win's a win, right? Bah. There's not even any proof that anyone will win. Remember that Summer Slam '97 "Million dollar give away"? The three people who ended up getting NOTHING that night sure do. Now, if I could actually vote off The Miz from this thing, I might be a little more willing to fork over the cash....
With that said, to end this little rant, I'd thought I'd show you the parting comments of one Erica Chevallier, the blond that was voted off this past week. You know, the one who's "unbridled charisma" makes Linda McMahon look like Robin Williams strung out on coke, then injected with pure adrenaline? Get a load of this:
“It was a great experience. It was all new to me. I look at it as a learning experience. I was so happy to be a part of this,” Erica said. “I hope this is a stepping stone to me one day being part of the sexiest women on television. After experiencing it, I want to be part of it.”
When asked why she thought she was eliminated, she said, “I guess I don’t have as much energy as the other girls. But that’s not really my forte. I’m more just a pretty face.”
Erica also admitted the Diva Search was very difficult. She said she didn’t realize how much traveling, time and effort goes into the competition.
“You constantly have to have new outfits, constantly have to be in the gym training and tanning,” Erica said.
Oh the humanity! We all feel for you, dear. Who among us couldn't relate to your plight of having to spend an entire day working on your tan in a health club then SHOPPING, before heading out to do three circles in the ring in a bikini, then cashing a 250 K check? Oh, ya, that's right, everybody. 
On a separate note, got to love the whole "it's not my forte" liner. What is your forte, pray-tell? Besides being a plastic robot from the future? (I kept picturing her giving this interview while stiltedly sputtering like fucking CONKY from Pee Wee's Playhouse. ).
Oh~! I almost forgot. The real reason you would ever care about any of this: NUDITY. To my knowledge, only two of the contestants have ever posed nude, and I tracked said nudes down. Unfortunately, both women have since been voted away, but that doesn't mean we can't take a demeaning final look at them naked and picture what kind of produce we'd use on them and where, can it? The two ladies in question are Maryse Oulette (Holy shit, "Oulette"? Had only she dressed up as a (not the) Mountie, worn an eye patch, or maybe randomly stolen Bret Hart's leather jacket I'd have definitely gotten *ahem* behind her! ) and Rebecca Dipietro, who possesses the one attribute as foreign to most of the Divas as wrestling ability: REAL BREASTS. Holy shit. We better get some plastic in there, pronto! They might actually move or not have some crazy inhuman sheen to them like this. Here are the photos:
There you go. You can thank me by never speaking of what you just did to yourself. Pervert.
I guess by now, we've all heard about the dreaded ELEVATED LIVER ENZYMES~! that seemed to be plaguing the SmackDown brand. And as per the Wellness program, several of the stars who tested high  were taken off the road immediately. Some of these wrestlers included Great Khali, Super Crazy and Regular Bobby Lashley. Soon after, people like Kid Kash (undisclosed issue), Matt Hardy (staph infection) and Tatanka (umm, Small-Pox? Don't trust the white man! Those blankets are CONTAMINATED!) were also taken off the road as well.
Anyway, the wrestling world was ABUZZ, and were subsequently performing last rites on the brand. I even suggested in our WORLD FAMOUS FORUMS that perhaps God was trying to tell Vince to end the brand extension by eliminating star after star FINAL DESTINATION style. And that this was likely all due to the shitty payoff the Lord got for Backlash. I may have been drinking at the time. Anyway~! as we got ready to throw the proverbial wreath on smackdown for good, as quick as they went out, Khali, Tatanka and Lashley all returned to action, as I pictured half the cruiserweight division left bleeding to death in a hotel bath tub filled with ice, sans livers, so the STARS~! could get back to work.
In any event, apparently, "elevated liver enzymes "can be caused from any number of things, including cycling down from Steroids (never~!) or the dreaded HEPATITIS, a parting gift no doubt left by Cowboy Bob Orton (No truth to the rumors that the Bad Blood pay-per-view was named in his honor). But we'll never know, I guess. But I still find humor in the fact that despite Scott Hall & Jake Roberts each possessing a liver that looks like a raisin dipped in yellow paint, they never got pulled from the road. Lightweights the whole lot of them. WELLNESS~!



If you follow this site (and how dare you not) you're more than likely familiar with this concept. I take random news headlines from reputable places like Wrestling Observer and PWInsider and destroy that journalistic integrity at the expense of some tasteless jokes and bad opinions. I'm silly like that.

The other day, a story hit the news about a study concerning the effects on adolescents who watched wrestling. This story was said to infuriate Vince McMahon, who then rebutted on WWE.com (Which we'll get to in a second) but first, here's the jist of the article in question:
Over a seven month period, using a random sample of 2,228 North Carolina High School students, it was determined that, "adolescents who watched televised wrestling fought more with dating partners and exhibited other violent behaviors. Young people who watch wrestling are also exposed to a high frequency of violence between men and women, alcohol use and derogatory terms for women."
How dare they! This article is BULLSHIT and makes me so fucking angry, I could, I could, just KILL SOMEBODY... preferably with the complicated offense I see on Monday and Friday nights! Man, I'm SO mad I just might attack my "date partner" tonight without any provocation! And women? Don't even get me started on those WHORES! Fuck! FUCK! FUCK!!!! FUCK!!!! (cue the Hulk music)
All kidding aside, here was Vince's reaction to the piece:

“We regret that this seven year old junk science was re-issued. It was junk science then, and is junk science now. It took them seven years to get someone to actually read it and it hasn't even been subjected to a peer review. There is nothing new in the study, and we think it is recycled garbage put forward by some obscure professor who finally got someone to read his paper and is trying to get his name in the media."
Haha, he should have just randomly dropped shit on the professor. That stuff always works in real life....
Anyway, after reading through the study, I decided to take a realistic and unbiased look at what the WWE has really "taught" me, the wrestling fan, after nearly 25 years of watching their product. Here was my discoveries:
-You can blow up your boss's car, dump shit on him, kick his ass, and marry his daughter after immobilizing her with a date rape drug, and he still won't fire you. He'll just cost you lots of matches.
-2/3rds of the nation's police budget goes to flanking a wrestler and/or owner, then in turn incarcerating the wrestler who dare stand up to them. This is clearly more important than fighting non-wrestling crime.
-When women have issues with one another, they'd really much prefer to settle them by trying to rip each other's clothes off.
-Being ran over by a car, dropped from a building, set on fire, and having your head crushed with a cinderblock/sledgehammer or any large blunt object will only put you out of action for *maybe* a week, but walking across the ring and tearing your quads puts you on the shelf for a YEAR.
-Most women don't have last names. They simply are referred to by their first names in all walks of life.
-All professions, vocations and trades secretly have the ability to wrestle. Garbage man? Natural catch-as-catch-can ability. Plumber? Dropkicks are really your business. It just comes naturally. And we're foolish to assume someone who trained in an entirely unrelated profession wouldn't have ring skills. Clearly.
-Everyone who works in the mortuary business is impervious to pain and cannot be killed.
-Everything hurts more when you bounce off the ropes first.
-It's not unusual to see a guy go from revolutionist to runway model to travel agent inside one year.
-Putting tape on your thumb makes a normally brittle limb LETHAL.
- Silliness like strangling the breath from your opponent with a sleeper or chinlock can't FINISH anyone, but doing a karate chop to the stomach after dancing is unbeatable.
- No one learns how to fall. They just naturally land in a manner that doesn't cause permanent injury.
- Other countries don't have cities. Non-Americans are represented only by their nation's name.
- Referees suffer from the same medical calamity as Mr. Glass in Unbreakable.
-If you're over 6'5", and are practically unstoppable, chances are you *really* have a nonsensical fear of caskets or snakes.
- Publicly traded companies encourage their C.E.O.'s to ram people's faces into their ass and have kinky sex with female employees.
- If you really hate a guy, you give him an airplane spin or bodyslam. Guns & knives never taught anyone a lesson.
-Black people, Samoans and the mentally handicapped cannot be harmed in the head area. So don't even bother trying.
-It's always better to let a guy full on punch you in the face two times before you even try blocking the blow, then subsequently go back on offense.
-Savages may not understand English, customs or etiquette due to their primitive ways, but they always instinctually possess the knowledge to lay on top of a guy for three seconds after beating him down.
-Prisons in India are made of bamboo and don't have roofs on them. Yet, no one escapes. Go figure.
-Being kicked in the stomach renders you completely helpless, unable to step out of the way of an impending scissors kick.
-Inflicting grievous bodily harm or destroying property is only deplorable if someone unpopular is doing it.
Just in case you haven't heard, WWE mainstay, and frequent good natured TWF subject of comedy, Pat Patterson was rushed to the hospital (or "to hospital" as you stubborn British insist upon) for emergency heart surgery. Dr. Heiney was not called the scene thankfully, because Lord knows who he'd find in there. All kidding aside, Pat pulled out  through, and we here at TWF wish him a speedy recovery. We make jokes, but we're not heartless. Souless maybe. But not heartless.
Anyway, now that he's in the clear, we can make fun of the following article on WWE.com with a somewhat clear conscience. You see, Pat Patterson, just in case you didn't know, is an open homosexual and was once accused of sexual harrassment of wrestlers in the late 80's. And that's fine. Nothing's wrong with being gay; My Father's gay (Tm. Seinfeld). But for YEARS, rumors circulated that Sylvan Grenier, the same Sylvan who's somehow remained employed for YEARS, while many other more talented stars got the axe, is Patterson's "cock puppet" for lack of a better term. Hell, even TNA lampooned this alleged relationship on impact! last fall during Team 3D's "funeral". Now, it would be easy to make jokes at Pat & Sylvan's expense; like if Patterson had his way, he'd give new meaning to the term "Montreal Screwjob", but I won't. And I won't because this article does a good enough job with unintentional comedy as it is; I'll highlight the parts that made me laugh. Not "hilarious" per se, but funny in its irony.
"Patterson’s close friend and WWE Superstar Sylvan visited Patterson after the surgery and said that the Hall of Famer looked well in bed. According to Sylvan, Patterson had been experiencing some pain in his back prior to the surgery that led him to the hospital.
“I met him on Friday for dinner and [Patterson] was complaining about back problems,” Sylvan said. “The next day, he spent the day with his sister in Montreal and the pain was worse and getting worse to the point where he couldn’t sit down straight and couldn’t walk straight; his sister convinced him to go to the hospital. They went to the hospital, and the doctors found a big cyst on the main artery [of his heart] inside of his abdomen the size of a baseball, rarely seen that big,” he said."
"Looked well in bed?" Apparently they left out the part where Sylvan said "of course, this is probably the first time I've ever seen his actual face while in bed."  And "he couldn't walk straight?" A few years ago that'd have earned you the Intercontinental Title, at least! And obviously, they also left out the part in the article where once awake, Pat put together a unique concept that saw the 30 visitors he had in his room eliminated in succession. Haha. So much for not making any jokes. I'm an immature idiot, I know. I'll stop now.
Get well, Pat.

From Wrestling Observer: WWE.com reports that Hulk Hogan told Vince McMahon today that he may have cracked his meniscus and that he may not be able to do any of his three remaining appearances for WWE. Right now, Hogan is scheduled to appear on RAW this Monday, the 8/14 RAW, and Summerslam to face Randy Orton. Hogan apparently suffered the injury as he was getting up from his couch. He says when he got up, he heard a snap. He will be having an MRI this week to determine the nature of the injury.

Hilarious. Hogan's willing to put over a sofa, but not Steve Austin. And watch this tale of a HOMICIDAL couch grow to Andre at Wrestlemania 3 proportions before it's all said and done.

"I was sitting there in my living room, in front of 93,000 screaming Hulkamaniacs, dude; on my 15 foot, 800 pound couch man, made of reinforced Titanium alloy, bruther; when I reached for the Hulkster-sized remote with the largest arms in world, brah, but I couldn't quite reach it, so I stood up, dude, and as I did, THE EARTH STARTED TO SHAKE, THE SKIES OPENED UP and every muscle in my barn door back ripped at once! Just like the time the Trump Plaza fell into the Atlantic Ocean, and I had to dog paddle all those screaming maniacs to safety, dude! However, it was just another day at the Red & Yellow office, bruther! However, when I went to sit down, and enjoy another EPISODE OF HOGAN KNOWS BEST (check your local listings) and listen to my daughter Brooke's Grammy award winning Platinum single, man, I heard my knee pop, bruther! It felt just like when Andre ripped the crucifix from my neck, dude! He might as well have ripped out my beating heart, bruther! Which since I say my prayers, and take my vitamins has enough blood to fill the seas, dude! But I WILL BE BACK, BRUTHER! So whatcha gonna do, reasonably priced and surprisingly comfortable SOFA? What ARE YOU gonna do, when the largest arms in the world, nay, the UNIVERSE, Destroy you!!! (or bring you back to IKEA for hopefully a full refund).

P.S., Vince; I can't job to Randy Orton at Summer Slam. But I can be back in time to win the rematch, bruther!"
God bless WWE.com and their silly candid photographs. Take this one for example....

Reminds you of a *certain* movie, doesnt it? And with that said, apparently in preparation for his EXTREME~! competition a few weeks ago against one 'The Big Show', Undertaker undertook (HIYO) grueling martial-arts training in an attempt to even the odds; eventually achieving a level of mastery that can only come by waxing a car, painting a house, and doing other thankless household chores for the demanding elderly. And good thing too, because if the movies have taught us anything, no one ever won a fight using actual OFFENSE. Punches? Please. Kicks? I don't think so. Weapons? What are those? True "Karate" (Care- ah-tay) lies in the heart, not the fist. Plus, the black belt goes great with his satiny pants. It's win/win for him.

Clearly, it paid off:

In case you haven't heard, WWE FILMS, the same people who brought you Kane killing teenagers while fighting off the urge to masturbate, presents their next major motion picture: THE MARINE, starring the "controversial" John Cena. The same John Cena whom if WWE has taught us anything, will begin hallucinating sometime in October, hearing "voices" and being "shell-shocked" from a war he was never in. The whole thing would have likely culminated in a fake John Cena emerging to make his life miserable, but sadly, they couldn't find anyone to wrestle that terribly to make it believable. Ah, I kid, John.
In any event, despite the fact the TRAILER is now available on You Tube, much of the script and storyline is still unknown at this point (I don't know if this is really the case, but play along, damn it!), but that's where WE COME IN.
Through our Hollywood "connections", we have acquired secret plot points in the film, and will now reveal the admittedly *shocking* details direct from our source. WARNING: The following contains *Spoilers*:
-At one point, a camouflage covered John Cena stupidly gives away his location to the enemy by yelling out "You Can't See Me!"
-The entire Military eventually begs for SOMEONE, ANYONE, DIFFERENT for a mission, but the General insists on always using him.
-The antagonist in the film only gains a brief advantage after Cena battles six other dudes to the death inside a deadly caged area.
-The motivation for the big showdown between Cena and his arch rival, is a comment that he's "not a very good soldier".
-There's about a 30 minute dead spot in the movie where John goes for the five knuckle shuffle, but since there's no ropes, he just keeps running and ends up never coming back.
-He's pelted with garbage and catcalls at the Purple heart medal (with a custom "spinner"~!) ceremony, despite, once again, the General's insistence that he's really a hero.
-He doesn't know how to properly operate the weapons he's given, but the enemy is told to sell the offense anyway.
-Halfway through the film, he picks up a tank on his shoulders and slams it down, as a strange southern accent is piped in yelling "By Gawd, that tank was two tons, King!"
-John gets into a struggle with a foe, and ends up wrapping his arms around his throat, but doesn't move or pull, as the enemy rolls his eyes, and whispers to him how to do it properly.
-In honor of John, the govt. stops referring to their weapons as "Weapons of mass destruction" instead opting for "weapons of mass destruction... if you suspend disbelief enough".
-Cena foolishly jumps out of an airplane without a parachute, but his pants act as a defacto parachute and carry him to safety.
-Edgier dialogue was re-edited to include more references to "poop" and "farts".
-The General tells his officers to damage control Cena's lack of popularity amongst "Defiant" "traditional" civilians as him just being "controversial".
-The country ends up rooting for the bad guys by the end.
-The hostages that he's supposed to be saving eventually begin chanting "Same old shit" as he dispatches the enemy.
-After surviving heavy mortar assaults, grenades, landmines and missiles, Cena is subsequently killed by an overweight savage in the jungle with one thumb to the throat.
- Dick Cheney dumps all his Halliburton stock in favor of FUBU stock.
Haha, Poor John.  But hey, don't feel too bad; from all accounts the real life John Cena has a pretty good sense of humor. Besides, the dude's a millionaire and can sleep with pretty much any woman he wants to at this point. I doubt he'll be crying himself to sleep tonight. Wish I could say the same thing...
Back in 2003, I debuted what I felt was the perfect Fall TV lineup. It featured WWE stars inserted into now retooled popular primetime shows. And well, it's been three years, so what better time to have complete filler and not come up with an original concept  do it all again? So, with that said, let's look at the impending lineup, all while secretly hoping that "WWE Films" doesn't really ever branch out into "WWE TV":
Hosted by Johnny Ace, and featuring 16 midcarders and cruiserweights. The WWE Survivors brave the wilds of unpredictable Connecticut, competing in a series of degrading spectacles (jobbing to Mark Henry, etc.) in an effort to hopefully gain immunity. (6 months of jobs before being released).
 Side note: Each week, Matt Hardy is purposely brought back and re-eliminated during the torch ceremony, just because. 
Check your local listings!
In WWE's war on crime, the worst criminal offenders are pursued by the detectives of the veteran locker room. These are their stories.
Detectives TAKER & John Layfield are a new *elite* squad of detectives who investigate backstage related crimes like not shaking the hands of the senior members of the locker room, using carryall luggage with wheels, and upgrading your own plane ticket from coach.  The prosecuted offenders are then subsequently punished during a seemingly peaceful shower.
After leaving "New York" after being told he "can't tell a story", Joey heads out west to a place where that's always a prerequisite: HOLLYWOOD! He soon finds that they're even more talentless than the place he last left. (WWE of course then hires them.).
What to look for: In Ep. 6, Joey takes his own life after being forced to put over a wrestling vampire. He's replaced by Brad Armstrong. Vince never notices.
Each Week, the Extreme Championship Wrestling Makeover team attempt to fix-up a dilapidated house for a needy family. The project however almost always remains unfinished when head "designer" Paul Heyman reveals that he's spent all the money. He however gives IOU's to everyone! "Your house will be completed the moment we get on a Network! I'm telling you!" yells Paul, as contractors and the house's occupants chase him down the street.
Plus, Coming Soon~!: EXTREME CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING MAKEOVER! Three people are chosen to receive the *makeover of a lifetime* which includes: plastic surgery, lasik surgery, cosmetic dentistry, hair, makeup and fitness. These changes are then all undone with one errant Sandman cane shot, and a botched Sabu table spot (that he repeats three times!).
EC-Dub! EC-Dub! EC-Dub!
After his manger Khosrow Daivari is seemingly wrongfully convicted for connections with "Sympathizers" (and NOT terrorists), The Great Khali meticulously plans (we're assuming, all we heard was "Grmmpghdfghh") the ultimate prison break. From a Prison with no Roof. Yup. 
Watch for mid-season when Khali is replaced suddenly by Big Show, just because.
After being left distitute after an illegal merchandise scandal, a disgraced former Referee wins $100,000 in the lottery and decides to right all his wrongs against various wrongfully submitted Canadians. He lasts about 15 minutes, before ringing a bell, and hopping into an already running car.
TWO(!) thumbs up. 
10 WWE Superstars are coupled with professional dancers as they compete for the title of Dancing With The WWE Superstars Champion. They are then immediately pinned for it by Triple H. Just because. 
Featuring: Ric Flair, Rey Mysterio, Umaga, Daivari, Chris Benoit, HBK, Kane, Hulk Hogan, Vince McMahon & More!
What to look for: Umaga goes through some half dozen dance partners in one night after he mistakes a dance signal from off-screen coach Armando Alejendro Estrada and drives his thumb into their clavicles. The judges still award 10's across the board for The Samoan Bulldozer & partner thinking she's just improvising a complicated break-dancing number! Fun Fact: She's actually dying!
Plus, don't miss Ric Flair's heartbreaking disappointment after collapsing face first off the stage in a Ball-room number gone awry. (but not before mule-kicking his partner in the genitals first, poking another couple in the eyes, and insisting on being grabbed by the groin and thrown off the Judge's table.).
From the creators of Veronica Mars comes VAL VENIS. After his umpteenth push is mysteriously killed, former porn star cum (LITERALLY!) conservative Libertarian, Val Venis makes it his mission to solve seemingly impossible mysteries! Mysteries like how he's managed to stay employed for 8 years. (Quick answer: The completely forgot!). Ya, that's the show. But he has sex with a lot of people. And preaches the benefits of a harmonized flat-tax. Watch it. It's on TV.
Dr. Orlando Jordan Cavanaugh is a forensic pathologist, coroner (he goes both ways!) and by god *Natural Athlete*, who lost his job with the Boston medical examiner's office for being tremendously boring, despite the faculty giving his ass like 3 years to get over. err, I mean, learn his craft. But boy can he dropkick. And umm, dropkick! Did i mention he can dropkick? Dr. Jordan is a jack of all trades. And a jack-off all trades. Specifically, for his lab assistants, fresh out of high school.
Good Ole J.R. stars as Jim, the macho everyman, with a soft spot for his beautiful wife, Jezebel, their Scalded dog, "Limbertail", and their three precocious kids -- 'Stone Cold' 'Steve' & 'Austin'.
Each week, Jim seems to keep Jezebel in constant turmoil with insistence she build up her upper-body, his obsession with government issued livestock, and an encyclopedic knowledge of College Football. But their underlying love for each other guarantees that there's little chance of this marriage being "as Gawd is my witness, broken in half." 
Well, that's it for this week's (Month's? Year's?) edition of the Back-Leg Frontkick. It's been a happening. Funny, after saying that phrase, I suddenly have the uncanny urge to know  what the exact medical term for that bump at the back of the base of your skull is. Strange.
Be sure to check out the rest of the crew: James Walker, Derek Burgan, Joe MerrickCameron Burge, Gersh, Harry SimonJustin Shapiro, Martin Ferguson, Remy, and of course ME~! Plus, *everyone else* who's been too lazy to update lately! See y'all soon. But first...

....Your Moment of Zen!: (your check's in the mail, Jon)

If there's ever an *official* hearing to determine once and for all whether wrestling is considered "Gay" or not, it might be in our best interests to make sure this picture disappears completely...

I'm Sean.

Hey~! Guess who "sold out" and got a My Space page? EL OH EL! LES BE FRIENDS!

Sean Carless is a man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an ever-increasing bald spot. Sean's various scribblings have been read at Live Audio Wrestling, 411 Mania, Honky Tonk Man.com, The Toronto Star.com, and Lethal Wrestling. He has also cured AIDS.

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November 2006


by Sean Carless

With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).