Hey fuckies, and welcome to
your favorite column when you subtract all the columns you like better, The
Back-Leg Frontkick! The IWC's number one source for completely infrequent
wrestling comedy or something!
Hey fuckies, and welcome to your favorite column when you subtract all the columns you like better, The Back-Leg Frontkick! The IWC's number one source for completely infrequent wrestling comedy or something!
Anyway, as you read above, this is likely my last Back-Leg Frontkick, at least for a while. I could lie to you and say I'd try and update this column more, and then don't, but, umm, actually, I probably should've just lied....
In any event, I'm not saying there won't be the occasional update here and there. Oh, wait. I am saying that. It's over, motherfucker. Get used to it. Ah, who am I kidding? I'll probably be back in like 3 or four weeks like I never said anything. I'm an attention whore. I'm just silly like that.
The reason for my infrequency is that I just don't have the time right now to churn out this *ahem* quality? I don't know. What I do know is, if I'm going to do anything, I'm going to put all my effort into it. Well, except for sex. And Working. And Hygiene. Everything else though, I'm spot on. So, with that said, I'll still be around with satires here and there, the site's management, and of course the monthly PPV rants, but as for this column, well, I just don't have the time right now. You know, between all my various charities and all the masturbating I do. But I will be back. Probably soon. Or never. Whatever. Haha.
COMPLETELY RANDOM NEWS!!!!
Some columnists have organized topics with deep soliloquies and insight into the sport. Others blather on with zero direction just so they can make a few pointless (and tasteless) jokes. Guess which one this is.
Stand Back, There's A Hurricane
Hurricane Katrina is currently
(Courtesy of WWE.com:) DiBiase plans to organize some fund-raising efforts once he returns home in connection with his local church.
“My heart goes out to those people,’ DiBiase said. “I’m going to get the word out through my ministry to raise money or supply food and clothing for the victims. Anything I can do to help.”
Fund-raising? DUDE, You're
the MILLION DOLLAR MAN! You had a belt made of gold and diamonds, and a "Winter
residence" in the
As for donating clothes...that's AWESOME. I can just picture slews of homeless people wearing tear-way cellophane suits, while diapers are fashioned from your bow-tie dickies and satin cummerbunds. Do your part, Ted. Everyone has a price! No one has a home! Hahahahaha. Oh, and while you're down there, try and find Lash Leroux. Unlike, Rick Steiner, I can't live with the visual of him washed up on shore covered with sea weed.
Ok, then. Clearly I'm going to Hell. But it's all in jest!
Really! Levity is the best thing in these situations. And if anyone in
THIS JUST IN~!:
Quote The Torah, Nevermore.
Those of you who bought tickets for the Hardcore Homecoming show in Pittsburgh, RAVEN, at least according 1wrestling.com, will NOT be in attendance. He will instead be trading in a night of UNORTHODOX action for LITERAL ORTHODOX CEREMONY when he attends a Bah Mitzvah instead! Seriously. And I don't know about you, but this is the GREATEST thing I've ever heard in life. It's times like this that I wish I was Jewish. The other is when I have no money. Because then, it'd be an impossibility, you see, on the account that they're good with money or something.
I can't imagine what a Raven attended Bah Mitzvah would be like, but By G-d (LITERALLY) I can try! First, I'd assume he'd ruffle a few (really bushy) eyebrows with his crucifixion pose. That's a given. Also, I'm sure he wouldn't win anyone over with the way he wears his prayer shawl and Tallit wrapped sloppily around his waist as he sits depressed on the floor in the corner of the synagogue.
Also, after hearing those Becky Bayless stories, I think it's pretty safe to assume that he'll probably be hooking up that night! And if he does, holy shit, you just wait until Jerry Lawler hears about it! It'll be the fastest conversion to Jew you've ever seen! I can just imagine the dude flashing a circumcised penis as "proof" of his religion!
I also got the visual of Raven making his entrance with a shopping cart full of Torahs, Menorahs and Mezuzahs, complete with that strange little Frankenstein figure clung to the side that was NEVER explained. The whole evening will then end when Bob Holly spontaneously shows up, hits him in the head with a yarmulke, rolls him up in the Giant Torah, and pins him for the Hardcore Title.
...Ok, there's probably a chance I've thought too much about this.
Matt Hardy will not die!!! However, that doesn't stop him from getting the shit kicked out of him every week. Apparently, everyone but Matt himself is aware that he's being buried. 'Tis the pitfalls of immortality, I suppose. It just gives the world an unlimited timeframe to pin you for all of eternity.
Anyway, Matt recently appeared on a radio show, and when confronted with why he seems to be getting buried, Matt said while spitting out top soil from his mouth: "you've seen only one part of a five chapter story." Well, when's the chapter where you win a fucking match? Bookmark it for me, would you? Because, I'll be honest, the only story I've read is called “How to teach uppity guys who talk on the computer too much a lesson through infinite fucking jobs and humiliation. That'll teach that Internet!” penned by Vince McMahon himself. The book jacket is about 6 feet wide. And is printed on paper made entirely out of the cruiserweight division. It's really something.
Still though, by my calculation. Matt still has 4 more chapters to come:
Chapter 2: Lose to Edge.
Chapter 3: Lose to Edge again. Maybe Lita, too.
Chapter 4: Lose to Edge in a gimmick blowoff match.
Chapter 5: Move back to Smackdown, and lose there.
Good luck with your book! Veee Doneah! (I kid. I loves ya, Matt.).
Blocking Out The Sunny!
A couple of hilarious notes on Tammy "Sunny" Sytch. First, about a month ago, she was featured in a call-in interview where she claimed she will be returning to WWE in October or November. She also claimed that she's lost a lot of weight and that she's 15 pounds away from being in "Sunny Shape". cough*BULLSHIT*cough. Maybe she meant Sun-shaped? You know, as in a huge gaseous ball. I mean, who'd think that someone nicknamed "sunny" would end up casting such a huge shadow? But seriously, I've seen pictures of Tammy lately, and the only weight she's lost is the 215 lbs that tool Sonny Siaki cost her.
Anyway, on a related Tammy
note; several accounts from people who were at the WrestleReunion, Tammy Sytch
was thrown out of the building crying and screaming by security and warned to
never come back again. Apparently, she was bothering several of the wrestlers
and acting unusual, mostly notably to Bret Hart. Apparently she approached Bret
and stated that she wanted to "re-connect" as friends. She kept mentioning their
time in the WWF and said she wanted to get "close" again. When Bret asked that
she be escorted out, she began crying and causing a scene saying she was the
best pussy he ever had (barring his matches with HBK) and she needed him in
her life because she spent all of the Candido Benefit money and was broke.
This of course will add fuel to the rumors that Bret fucked Sunny years ago in the WWF. But my question is this: Why is it that every woman that Bret beds becomes morbidly obese? Ever see "Wrestling with Shadows?". Between his ex-wife Julie and Sunny, I'm starting to think that Bret's seed is made up of 95% butter. Come on. I'm tellin' you. The only "shadows" he's wrestling with are the huge one's they're casting...
Bret You Didn't See This
Speaking of Bret, I never thought I'd see the day when Vince McMahon and Bret Hart would shake hands and agree to a truce. And good thing too, 'cause knowing WWE, this (seen far bottom right) would be the pic on WWE.com right now...
Seriously though, this is GREAT news for me, as I am just about the biggest Bret Hart mark ever, and not just because it's against the law to not be here. Seriously. Not loving Bret is a death penalty offense. My brother was Excellently Executed for it 2002. We tried to clear his good name, but it was too late. They put a bag over his head and held him the sharpshooter until he died. It was heartbreaking. (Hartbreaking?).
Bret clearly made the right decision. As far as how his legacy would end up being presented, coming to terms with Vince & Co. was probably the best thing he could have done. I mean, ask The Ultimate Warrior whose DVD was aptly titled "The Self-Destruction of The Ultimate Warrior" what it's like to be out of favor with WWE. Actually, don't ask him. You wouldn't understand it. Trust me. Once he gets to the part where the skeletons make the supreme sacrifices, it all falls apart.
That said, rumors, prior to Bret
agreeing to participate in its making, stated that the DVD was allegedly to
be called : "Screwed: The Bret Hart story." And no, despite her best intentions,
Sunny is not involved. "I screwed Bret like 3 years
before that EVER happened! Come on!" she was heard
In any event, this obviously insulting DVD title got me to
thinking. Just what other potentially offensive DVD titles could we see WWE
put out in the future? Here were my findings:
-"The Life and Death (any day now) of Jake Roberts;"
-"The Rise and Fall of Owen Hart".
-"Straight Shootin’ with Kerry Von Erich".
-"Hey, Shane McMahon Liked Him: The Best Of Steve Blackman".
-"Guys that aren't HHH".
-"You should have ducked:
Dino Bravo's journey from
-"WWE Presents: The
Completely True And Unbiased Story Of Lex "Guy Who Killed
-"Flair Vs. Sting: Really just a bunch of hip tosses."
-"All of a sudden the Amway gimmick isn't looking too bad: A Chavo Guerrero Retrospective."
-"The entire career of Muhammad Hassan (Disclaimer: 3/4's of this disc are just YJ Stinger commercials)".
-"Eugene, Jeff Jarrett, and
other great WWE Retards!".
The sad thing is, I'd buy
We'll Give You TWO(!) Seconds To Get Out Of Here!
After over 17 years of loyal service to the WWF(E), head official Earl Hebner was fired, for apparently selling WWE merchandise without permission. Allegedly, Baby Earl would steal various merch and re-sell it for straight profit in his furniture store he co-owned with Dave "the other Hebner" Hebner who was also fired. I for one REFUSE to believe these allegations. I mean, clearly, the name Hebner is a name synonymous with INTEGRITY. Earl swears on his children that he didn't screw the WWE! (And after seeing his son Brian's "beat box" routine on SmackDown a few years ago, I see why he plays so fast and loose with his life....).
Anyway, personally, if I was WWE, I’d just Irish whip someone awkwardly
into Earl in the store then steal all the merchandise back. You’d have time to
UPN Strikes A Blow On The War On Terror!
As we all know, UPN has
ordered WWE to cease with the Muhammad Hassan character, after an angle aired
reminiscent of a ‘terrorist act’ just days after the
In any event, poor Hassan was subsequently written out of the WWE, and now the man, Mark Copani (and Shawn Daivari), have nothing to work with. But fear not! We here at The Wrestling Fan have come up with several possible gimmicks that Hassan can easily adapt!:
Not satisfied with waiting for the afterlife for all his promised "virgins" to sully over eternity, Hassan turns to the world of PORN, and rechristens himself Ali Venis, trading in his camel clutch for... camel toes? I don't know.
ALLAH SNOW and HEAD!
Come to think of it, an Arab character carrying around a severed head might not be the best idea....
THE LETHAL WEAPON (OF MASS DESTRUCTION)
Hey, this shit worked for Steve Blackman. Although, pulling a thermal nuclear device from under the ring during a Hardcore match may be a tad more difficult than a cake pan...
IRAQ N' ROLL EXPRESS!
Sure, Rock N' Roll may be forbidden in their home country of... Detroit? but who wouldn't get behind these fresh faced youngsters? And the women just love them. Well, the one's allowed to show their faces in public,anyway.
Get it? Because he's from the Desert! Umm, never mind.
WHATEVER HAPPENED TO!:
Hey, everyone gets old, times change, and eventually, your star begins to fade, your mullet turns grey, and your giant Zubaz pants and fanny pack don't fit quite as well as they once did. No more is this true than for professional wrestlers. Eventually, the spotlight dies down, the rats start to resemble their namesake, and you're left performing in front of 25 people, all of which have three first names. It happens to the best of them. Ok, not to the best of them. They have the good sense to actually save their money. But whatever, you get the point. In any event, in a new feature here at the Back-Leg Frontkick, I'll take a look at several of these heroes of the past, and...make fun of them? Sounds about right.
Wolfpac in the hooooouuuuuuuussssse!!!! Actually, it's more like the Dog Pack these days. I mean look at these women. Matt Hardy, this is your future, bro. But at least you can sleep easy for now, knowing that your fans at least have youth and vigor, well youth anyway, on their side. But seriously, this is hard to believe that this is the same "Big Daddy Cool" who once told Pamela Anderson at Rumble '95 that they'd, and I quote, "paint the town black and chrome" (you know, as opposed to just painting the bowl these days after taking his Metamucil). I'd expect this from Scott Hall (you know, the beer goggles and all) but not you, Big Kev. I'm reserving my Wolfpac handshake until you clean up your act.
Credit for pic goes to Kevin Nash.net
If you stare at this picture long enough, you'll eventually see a Wild West-style tumbleweed blow past. Poor Virgil. Did the people at that mall not realize that you were once Million Dollar Champion? Did they not remember your thrilling tête - à - tête with Bastion Booger? Did I mention he was a former Million Dollar Champion? Perhaps if he had unfurled his tool on the desk like he was rumored to do with Pat Patterson when he was hired in '87, the line-up would be longer (or even existent).
Ah, don't feel too sorry for Curly Bill. The truth is, Good Ol' Vincent has been bilking people out of their money for YEARS by over-charging them for signed Polaroid's. Heh, if he was that hard up, you'd think that he'd have pocketed some of Ted DiBiase's loose change that was likely laying around his Summer Residence in Hyannisport Massachusetts.... or at least chiseled a few diamonds off that belt while it was in his duffle bag. Silly Virgil.
Credit to my friends at Lethal Wrestling for the above pic
Koko B. Ware, is reputed to be one of the nicer pro wrestlers out there, and can be best compared to The Hurricane today; that being, a lovable loser whom you root for, even though you know they'll be spending more time on their backs than Paris Hilton.
Anyway, "The Birdman" unfortunately suffered some absolutely horrible luck back in 2001 when his house burned down, incinerating Frankie, his beloved pet macaw in the process. Hey, what's with all our most beloved wrestling pets suffering untimely fates? First Frankie meets a fiery demise, then Damien (after surviving the ample ass-cheekery of one Earthquake) being starved to death by his OWNER, Jake Roberts? And if I ever hear that Ricky Steamboat is abusing his Gila Monster by deep arm-dragging it across his living room, I just may break down. I'm just happy Dynamite Kid is such a nice person or I'd seriously start to worry about Matilda. Oh.
In any event, allegedly Koko *begged* Vince for a job, on the account that he had lost everything. And one can imagine how much those lycra balloon pants probably fanned that fire. Poor bastard. He was destitute. He was broke. He had a high-top haircut 20 years after it was last fashionable. It was horrible. But Vince didn't bring him in because he was too busy building the company around sound investments for the future; investments that would definitely payoff in the years to come. Investments like Scott Hall and Scott Steiner....
Anyway, today Koko has been known to still work the indies, including whatever flash-in-the-pan league Jerry Lawler is running and winning 400 World titles in out of Memphis these days. I have no idea if Koko has ever replaced Frankie, although, I personally would mark-out for a Norman Bates-style obsession with the bird, where he carries the charred corpse on his shoulder as if nothing ever happened. But hey, that's just me.
Wrestling’s WORST Theme Songs.
Let it be known that I love wrestling theme songs. Call it a sickness, but when others my age were out listening to the techno rap shit of 1992, wearing their pants backwards and calling everyone "G", I was in my basement repeatedly listening to a shoddy recording of Mr. Perfect’s WWF theme (and obviously not getting laid) taped off the TV during an episode of Superstars. Clearly, I made the right decision, right? I mean, what woman could resist a man who knew Erik fucking Watts' theme song, verbatim? Answer: Everyone. Oh, well.
Anyway, from there I’ve managed to acquire almost every WWF/WWE theme song EVER recorded, and to this day, I listen to them on occasion, often just to annoy my elderly neighbors who don't seem to appreciate the subtle nuances of Tiger Ali Singh's theme music. Those fools.
With that said, even for a Jim Johnston (the man responsible for almost EVERY popular WWF theme ever) aficionado like myself, there are certain songs that even I could not stomach. And I'm a guy who owns a horse porn.
You see, for every classic like Demolition or even the admittedly schlocky Real American, there were certain songs that just made you want to take a number two pencil and drive it into your ear drums, until you reached the brain, thus killing yourself instantly. You may be recognize these symptoms under it's other name; The Divas Search Effect. And sure, you could just press "stop" on the CD player at any point or turn off the TV, but the latter is more dramatic....
So, after much deliberation, I amassed this short list of “can’t hit” prospects; And granted, although there are a lot of songs that were probably much worse (and believe me, there is), this is the list I decided to feature.
Piledriver- Koko B. Ware; Koko was a talented high flier who cut his teeth (and forehead. Frequently) in Memphis wrestling before being called up to the WWF in 1986. From there, “The Birdman” as he was christened (accompanied by his pet macaw “Frankie”), made his way to New York, with a "look" that suspiciously looked like a mid-80’s version of Michael Jackson, with jerry-curled hair, big assed sun glasses, and a single white glove, which to my knowledge was just for “decoration”, and not to “keep his finger prints off children” like Jacko's….
In any event, after the *highly successful* 'The Wrestling Album', where FINALLY people could hear classic interpretations of famous hits as sung by people like Uncle Elmer, our waiting was over, as the WWF, in 1987, decided to follow that up with a sequel dubbed “Piledriver!”, which was to feature Koko singing the title track. And soon the question was asked, "Could WWF top Mean Gene Okerlund singing Tuti Frutti?" YES. Because now, Gene was co-singing "Rock n' roll hoochie koo" with Rick Derringer. And hearing Gene rattle on about his coital prowess is worth the price of the album alone. Which last time I checked is about 55 cents on EBAY. Worth EVERY penny. All fifty five of them.
With that said, Koko had new theme music, and the wrestling
world had one of the most irritating themes in history. First of all, the
song itself wasn’t really even about wrestling, but rather Koko’s
apparent "heartbreak with the ladies", where he compared “love” to
basically breaking fucking rocks on a construction site. Couple that with
the fact that the actual music video had nothing to do with wrestling
either, or hell, the song itself; instead choosing to showcase a
sickeningly grubby Hulk Hogan, Billy Jack Haynes and Bam Bam Bigelow
working with tools before running Honky Tonk Man off a worksite in
his Cadillac; all the while Koko bellows in the distance that love sounds like a
“ahgument” (argument) and it feels (I said it feels) La,la,la,la,la,la, like a
pile...driver! Huh, I think if your love feels
like a piledriver, you should take your ass to
counseling 'cause you just might be a physical abuser. Just
You’re Gonna Pay- Undertaker; For years, Undertaker was one of the most feared competitors in the WWF, thanks in part to his eerie entrance which was derived from the famous funeral dirge. Just ignore the part where the guy who just powdered your grandpa and got him ready for show doesn't really have supernatural powers like the WWF's version. Man, what amateurs these guys are when it comes to, umm, undertaking? I don't know.
Fast forward a few years, when Undertaker returned in 2000, now shunning the darkside, having traded in handling organs and draining blood from corpses for a motorcycle, a can of chaw, and the chance to finally get a fucking tan for the first time in ten years. Can't say I blame him. From there, Taker embraced a character closer to the real life Mark Calloway, that being a "Bad-ass" Biker. For the next two years, Taker would ride his Bike to the ring, and the only stiff he'd be burying would be into his wife Sara, because finally the motherfucker was allowed to be human. And he did all this to the sounds of both Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit. It was a long 2 years. But hey, it worked.
HOWEVER, in mid 2002, WWE decided they no longer wanted to pay artists like Bizkit anymore royalties (probably to pay the salaries of “smart” investments for the “future” like Kevin Nash…) and thus turned to their in-house musician: Jim Johnston, to recompose a theme for the deadman.
First, though, it has to be said. Jim Johnston has compiled some of the industries best and most beloved themes (something that always set WWF apart from WCW, even during the lean years); however, in 2002 he seemed to completely lose his edge, seemingly putting as much effort into these abominations as a house wife does a hand job. And with that said, the diverse and unique tunes of the past were soon put to rest, to make room for generic rock/rap hybrid bullshit that truthfully had some of the most embarrassingly bad lyrics EVER. And thus “You’re gonna pay” was born. And with that, any credibility Taker had almost went out the (mortuary) window when this fucking abortion hit the sound system. Here’s a sample of one of the lines:
“Nice guys….they say they always finish last…but bad asses…always kickin’ ass!” end quote.
they used "ass" twice is the same sentence. Dear god. That's some creativity
right there.You know, sometimes I wonder if
Waking Up Alone- Hillbilly Jim; Apparently, judging by this tune, Hillbilly had issues with “waking up alone”. However, when you wear bib overalls, haven't shaved in over 25 fucking years, and smell like pig milk, are you really that surprised? I mean, really? There's a reason why they aren't that many women up in them there hills, Hillbilly. Maybe wear some fucking clothes once in a while.
Anyway, this was another track off the hit and miss cassette that was Piledriver: The Wrestling Album 2; And although people don’t seem to remember, this particular track served as Hillbilly’s theme song for 1987 and 1988 before thankfully reverting back to “Country boy” in which he is most associated with.
Now, truth be told, the song itself wasn’t that horrendous. In fact, it really wasn’t all that different from a lot of the “my wife and my dog left with all my money, and my truck has a flat tire, and my mobile home is neither home nor mobile” whiny, country shit of the time. Where my problem lay, however, was the fact that it didn’t exactly convey Hillbilly’s toughness, instead painting him less of a "happy go lucky huckleberry" and more so a deeply depressed man who cried himself to sleep every night. Poor Hillbilly. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right woman, yet? After all, what woman wouldn’t want a giant filthy bearded dirtball with a trunk full of coliseum videos? Trust me, I know this all to well.
I want to be a Hulkamaniac!- Dave Sullivan; When Hulk Hogan left for World Championship Wrestling, he had made sure to include several side projects in his contract, including TV (Thunder in Paradise), movies, (like Santa with Muscles, that just *barely* missed the nomination window for the Oscars) and music. And if Turner wanted the swollen shiny noggin of the Hulkster under the hot lights of WCW, he HAD to agree to these terms (Bruther). All this of course led to arguably the worst collection of wrestling themed music ever: Hulk Hogan and The Wrestling Boot Band! Seriously. Clearly, someone should have gave these assholes the umm, boot when they had the chance. Might have saved our ear drums a lot of grief, dude.
Now, with this in mind, of all the Hulk Hogan ego-fucks on this album, the worst in my opinion was “I want to be a Hulkamaniac”, which for the record, sounded suspiciously like Owen Hart’s early WWF theme song, which is ironic considering it only takes about 30 seconds into this thing before you're tempted to fling yourself from the rafters, just to stop the pain. I mean, just listen to this stark ravin' chorus, bruther:
“I want to be a Hulkamaniac….have fun with my family and friends.”
So said the same looping chorus while Hulk Hogan channeled Ice T. (Ice Age?) and “rapped”. Seriously.
Anyway, with 1994 being all things Hulk, Dave (Evad)
Sullivan, storyline brother of Kevin Sullivan, adopted the ways of Hulkamania as
his mantra and soon began coming to the ring to this theme. You see, much like the
Anyway, by the end of 1995,
Evad and “I want to be a Hulkamaniac” went the way of the dodo, and thus this
forgotten tune is probably locked away in
Family Man- Ricky Steamboat; “He’s not a fighter, he’s a family man, loves his wife and son and does the best he can”….
And if that doesn’t strike fear into your heart, I don’t know what will.
Anyway, I’m not sure what kind of statement the guy who wrote this song was looking for, but saying “I’m not a fighter” is probably not the best recourse for a WRESTLER to take. It’s a lot like singing “I’m a fireman , but I’m afraid of fire". One has to wonder if you really despised physical interaction that much, why you'd pursue a career that sees you kicking the fuck out of people. That'd be like a Nun getting into hardcore Porn. And holy shit would that be hot. GETTING BACK IN THE HABIT. That's what I'd call it. That, or FALLING TO MY KNEES. I have these things all worked out.
That said, wrestling historians will recognize this song from WCW’s ill-fated attempt at producing a CD (no, not WCW Mayhem) the infamous 1992 release: WCW Slam-Jam!
On this one album, you had collectively some of the WORST attempts at theme songs ever recorded, that included Sting being and I quote, “as big as a boat…and as quick as cat”. And I don’t know about you, but when referencing the size of a man, I don’t tend to think a boat would be my best comparison. “Hey look at that Vader! He must at least be the size of an adequately sized schooner!” "Brad Armstrong needs to really bulk up, he looks like a row-boat!". Umm, you get the idea.
Also, we were also treated to such gems as “Steinerized”, “Don’t step to Ron” (which is Ebonics for “We didn't really need Ron as a main-eventer, anyway)”, all the way to the uncanny “smoking”, Barry Windham’s theme (and not RVD's), where the artist/song writer somehow manages to rhyme “he likes to have fun” and “Barry Windham” in the same verse. That's talent.
In any event, The Dragon continued to win matches and titles despite the fact that his song alluded that he'd rather be changing the Little Dragon's shitty diaper than pinning Rick Rude, but whatever. Guess it beats wearing a giant fiber glass mask to the ring….
Ass Man- Billy Gunn; Billy Gunn has had a strange journey to the top of wrestling by becoming obsessed with his bottom. He started out as a storyline brother to Bart Gunn, in a cowboy tag team, despite it no longer being 1955 anymore (except in the mind of Vince McMahon,) known as The Smokin' Gunns, where they wore jeans, had porn star mustaches, shot guns with blanks, and were pretty much the only tag team in the fucking company. So, by default they were three time Tag Team Champions. I mean, seriously. It was either them or Well Dunn. And sadly, the world was just not ready for male strippers who had fucking animated thongs on the back of their TIGHTS. Ya.
Fast forward to 1997, where Billy Gunn and Road Dogg were put together and took off as the New Age Outlaws (only not literally as I'd have hoped, burning up in the atmosphere), and they were quite successful. Well, until *someone* saw potential in Billy to be the NEXT HUGE STAR IN WRESTLING and broke up the team. I didn't see it. Maybe it was because Jim Ross told us Billy went to University on a "Rodeo Scholarship" (I am so not kidding), but I just couldn't take a guy seriously as a threat when he probably wrote his "Final Exam" in a fucking clown suit while being fish-hooked in the asshole by a Bull and flung like twenty feet in the air. What a shame. He was like *THIS* close to getting his doctorate in roping.
However, Vince saw past all this, and had Billy win the King of The Ring tourney, while officially building Gunn completely around his nickname : "Mr. Ass". And all this despite the fact that Billy was basically WWE's Teddy Ruxpin in women's hot pants. He had no discernable charisma of his own, and would just tirelessly spit out the same monotonous catchphrases ad-nauseam.
Soon, Billy came out to a customized theme song that boasted Gunn's prowess in all things "ass". Seriously. Someone thought that a great way to get this guy over, would be if he possessed an unnatural obsession with asses, and in turn thought of a multitude of things you can do with one, and set it all to music. I'm serious. The lyrics of this song detailed a disturbing myriad of ass-related debauchery ranging from "sticking them" to "picking them". Yes, PICKING THEM. And this, somehow, was supposed to all be credible, and lead to drawing money. Huh. No wonder he won the King of the Ring so easily. I'd lay down and let the guy quickly beat me too if the prospect was him handling me with the very hands that, at least according to his theme song, were feverishly digging about his asshole before the match. Anyway, ultimately, Mr. Ass's attempts to spread his wings, err cheeks as it were, and achieve singles superstardom was never meant to be. Eventually, WWE's, umm, anal need to push Ass, and hard, ended, and he eventually found himself back in tag teams. Finally, settling with Chuck Palumbo in 2002, and forming a partnership of both tag team and life, and one that allowed him to discover *yet another* use for his beloved Ass. Dear God.
So, there you have it. My top (bottom?) picks for WORST Themes EVER. The only way I could have possibly despised them more, is if, somehow, Jim Johnston was to combine all SIX into one disturbing hybrid. Stay tuned for "I Wanna Pay To Wake Up Alone With A Family Man's Piledriving Ass'. It should be, umm, terrifying.
So, until that day, and let's face, by proxy, the end of time and space as we know it, I'll continue to listen to all the shitty themes (and secretly enjoying them) so you don't have to.
MORE Motivation: TWF STYLE!
By now, I think we’ve all
seen those motivational posters that adorn many an office wall. They were all
the rage a few years ago, and no doubt as we speak, your idiot boss probably has
one on his office wall that says SUCCESS in bold letters with a random serene
image of a putting-green in the background. That Asshole.
In any event, I've done this several times over the site's
three year existence, and I thought I'd get on that horse once again and
present: TWF MOTIVATIONAL POSTERS!-- featuring "real" poster quotes, with the
appropriate wrestler attached. Here we go:
In any event, I've done this several times over the site's three year existence, and I thought I'd get on that horse once again and present: TWF MOTIVATIONAL POSTERS!-- featuring "real" poster quotes, with the appropriate wrestler attached. Here we go:
Ok folks, that's it for this month, year, whenever and whatever. I'll be back, eventually. Because, let's face it, it's kind of hard to keep this kind of insanity bottled for too long...
So, until my inevitable return and even more inevitable mental hospital admission, I will see you soon. Maybe.
THE TWF "MENTAL WELLNESS TEST!"
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.).