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By Catherine Perez


Welcome back to Deadface Walking, your only source for all of the week's NEWZ rolled up into a clusterfuck of ramblings! I'm Catherine Perez, the best hostess since the little bitch on the Twinkie wrappers. I hope all my American fans had a fantastic 4th of July, or "Friday" as it was called in other countries this year.

Before we begin, I'd like to address something that's been bothering me since this past Sunday night; and that's the major what-the-fuck moment I had when I decided to give Night of Champions a thumbs up. After giving it a lot of thought, I've come to the conclusion that I gave it a thumbs up based on three matches and my terrible habit of being too generous. So allow me to retract my momentary lapse of reason and give it a THUMBS AT A DOWNWARD 55 DEGREE ANGLE. Huge change, I know, but here's my reason for this: the WWE Tag Team Championship match was a comedy match; any match that features Hornswoggle executing Stunners and crazy Mysterio bulldogs to guys twice his size is a comedy match, end of. Basically, it was an alright start to the show to me for making me laugh when Hornswoggle ran in fear and executed unbelievable moves (not like 'OMG' unbelievable, but like "I can't bring myself to believe that Hornswoggle's offense actually inflicts pain on these assholes" unbelievable). Chavo Guerrero vs. Matt Hardy, well, considering who wrestled this match, I don't understand why it was so slowly paced with numerous headlocks and leg isolation. Then there was that shitty second rope elbow from Hardy that just looked like he jumped off the rope and just stood there. The only part that felt big was the very end where the Three Amigos was countered into a Twist of Fate. This match was followed by the ECW Championship match, which was just a chore to watch (and even my laptop thought so when it damn near died on me). Then we've got the DiBiase match that lasted a fucking minute followed by what seemed like 10 minutes of JBL putting himself over. I don't understand how he's so boring when his Smackdown commentary was top notch. If you're keeping track, the entire first half of the show basically wasn't up to par with what we'd all expect from a show people are spending $40 to $50 on.

Chris Jericho vs. Kofi Kingston was the first of the good matches I mentioned. Sure, the crowd chanted 'boring', but their opinion is completely invalid to me only for the fact that they didn't once chant 'boring' throughout the show thus far. The show falls back towards suckage with the Women's Championship match, because, let's be honest, who the fuck cares if Mickie retained her belt? Anyone? I mean, I commend the two ladies for wrestling an actual wrestling match, but considering I'm watching a wrestling show, I expect more than "HEY, they wrestled~!" when I see them. Finally, the last two matches of the show gave Night of Champions the feel of a show that would be called Night of Champions. As enjoyable as the Edge/Batista match was, it really had a Smackdown main event quality to it as opposed to a PPV one, but it still delivered far better than every match before it, except maybe for the Jericho/Kingston match. The main event truly felt like one, especially with the crowd practically eating out of Trips' and Cena's hands even though the match started off slowly. So, yeah, thumbs at a downward 55 degree angle for this show, and I apologize for my sheer stupidity of giving it a thumbs up based on three matches out of eight, because a 37%-good show doesn't deserve my appendage facing skyward.

Booker T has been airing his grievances over TNA's booking, among other things, in recent weeks. Join the club, Booker. During TNA's recent tour of the United Kingdom, Booker supposedly got frustrated over the number of meet-and-greets he had to participate in. How dare those UK fans wish to meet Booker on more than one occasion?! If that wasn't enough to get Booker's blood boiling, TNA had the audacity, the gall, the COJONES, to not provide wrestlers with catering at the venues. If this were WWE, you could rest assured that Mark Henry and Big Daddy V would never allow something so tragic to happen! "We're not going to take this sitting down!" They would say. "But due to gravitational issues beyond our control, we're going to have to." Of course, there are other reports saying that such incidents never occurred, but I don't believe that~! Clearly, there's no way TNA can afford all that catering, especially when they're spending cash flying Eric Young to find fucking Elvis, of all people. Get your shit together, TNA, or suffer Booker T's wrath, which includes Booker begging for his WWE job back via joining Vince's backstage version of the Kiss My Ass Club. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

According to her MySpace blog page, Ashley Massaro has requested her release from WWE because her daughter is sick. Like many others, I'm pretty skeptical about the whole thing, mostly due to factors like iffy timing, not requesting time off first, the possibility of someone hacking her MySpace account, and countless other things. I guess I can't really comment on this until I see more details, but if it's true, all I can say is God bless to the kid, and good riddance to Ashley.

ProWrestling.net reported that Michael Cole went and played a joke on Tazz before last Monday's draft, telling him that Mike Adamle had been moved to Raw's announce table. Tazz understandably got pissed off (who wouldn't?), complaining that he's more deserving of a spot on a bigger show than Adamle, considering his long tenure in the company. Vince, overhearing that most empowered speech, subsequently fired Tazz, prompting the poor guy to get on his knees and beg for his job back. Or at least that's how it played out in my head. Yeah, so it was all obviously a joke. No word on how Tazz took it, but I'm going to go out on a limb and imagine he began to weep at the fact that he's still stuck with Adamle.

Here's a report from last week that I just couldn't part with: The following story is quite surprising, and equally questionable. Instead of paraphrasing it to you, here's the passage from that new book, "Ring of Hell", where f ormer WWE and See No Evil writer Dan Madigan tells the story:

"I remember when I was working with Carlito [Puerto Rican wrestler Carlos Colon] when he just started. Vince wanted to talk to him to get to know him, and I was asked to attend the meeting to help work out a character. So we're there, Carlito's talking to him, just a normal conversation; Carlito comes from a normal background, has money. He speaks well. Vince interrupts Carlito mid-sentence and says to him, 'Hey, can you spic it up some? Y'know spic it up when you talk?' I look at Vince, this billionaire who just asked some Puerto Rican employee to 'spic it up' right to his face, and I just look at Carlito and say, 'Yeah, spic it up' like it was a joke," says Madigan, laughing. "Vince's image of a Puerto Rican was a Puerto Rican pimp. How out of touch do you have to be to not realize you could get in trouble for that?"

At first I wanted to say that I didn't believe this at all, but then I remembered the time when Vince called John Cena "my nigGUH~!". Oh, and then there was that one time when he told Sabu he was a member of the Taliban. One can only imagine he told a then-newbie Anthony Carelli to "wop it up" with his Santino Marella gimmick. I shudder to think of the first meeting between Vince and Cryme Tyme. Being Puerto Rican myself, I can definitely take offense in Vince's request to Carlito, but I won't because, well, I've barely heard the word 'spic' ever in my life, so it hardly gets anything other than apathy out of me. What I'm more offended at is the way Madigan handled the situation. Instead of keeping his face shut, he tried to "save" Vince's ass, even though Vince royally fucked up, by echoing what he said as if it was one big haw-haw joke. Even more offensive? Carlito took the job anyway. Das not cool.

According to the Wrestling Observer, there is supposedly some LEGIT SHOOT HEATZ between Michelle McCool and Natalya Neidhart over an incident where McCool tried to teach Neidhart, who is an 8-year wrestling veteran, how to lock up correctly. Oh, HELL nawl! On top of that, McCool wanted to show her how to work WWE style. Oh HEEEELLLL NAWWWWL~! I'm going to go ahead and call bullshit on this one. My only reason is that, if Michelle really had said any of this to Natalya, Natalya would have locked her ass into a Sharpshooter until her legs popped out of their sockets and evaporated into a fine powder. If there's a slim chance of truth to this, then I'll go ahead and assume that Hardcore Holly's Rookie Radar is going haywire after learning that some Diva Search tart~! would be so naive as to want to teach a vet to wrestle. Save yourself, Michelle; RUN!!11111six

At the heels of being ridiculed by news anchors and doctors for falsely advertising male virility with his Mamajuana drink, JBL is launching a new drink called 418, which is intended for relieving pain and increasing focus... for golfers. Does that mean nongolfers need some type of golf ID to buy this stuff? I think I'll come out with my own drink with a main ingredient that enlarges penises, but I'll market it towards women. Ladies, enlarge your penises* today! Har har har! Chyna's going to love my drink.

* Warning: Catherine's Penis Drink is not intended for use in penisless women. So I guess we're all** pretty shit outta luck there.
** Chyna and Nicole Bass are excluded from the term "all".

WWE has been discussing having Umaga cut his own promos in the future. YES! The idea as of now is to have Umaga reveal that he can, in fact, speak English. Oh, my God, please please PLEASE let him talk with a sophisticated British accent! How unfortunate that we won't get to hear J.R. yell, "BAH GAWD, KEENG, UMAGA'S BEEN TAKIN' ENGLISH CLASSES BAH GAWD HOT SAUCE~!"

In an interview with the UK Sun, El Hijo del Santo was asked if Mexico's lucha libre industry is also plagued with the same young wrestler deaths as in the United States. Hilariously enough, El Hijo stated that, "Fortunately not, as drugs, steroids, and other substances that can affect many wrestlers are not readily available in Mexico." I don't know what Mexico he's talking about, but the one I'm aware of is the one where drug cartels are so big that they can bravely post "help wanted" ads on the streets. And if that's not enough to convince El Hijo otherwise, perhaps the name Jesús Malverde will ring a bell. Just saying. Por favor, don't shoot me.

This week's least interesting news bit goes to John Laurinaitis~! Hey, what else is new? Johnny Ace is actually pushing for bringing Essa Rios, who was shitcanned in 2001 (supposedly for refusing to learn English), back to WWE. Uh... okay. In all honestly, I've yet to witness a single moment of the guy's career, so I guess I can't even comment. I'd probably sooner mark out for a Damian Demento resigning. Okay, that's a lie. A big, biiiig lie.

It's time once again for the pro wrestling freak show~! Up first is John Morrison and Melina. Before he was John Morrison, he was JOHNNY NITRO, and before she was Melina, she was MELINA. Together they were every no one's favorite Hollywood celebutantes. After shitcanning Joey Mercury and eventually each other, they have enjoyed much more success... but what would their little celebuspawn have looked like if they mated?





Unfortunately, Miss (-ter...?) Nitro, fresh out of a face transplant surgery, could not be properly photographed. However... is Melina sure this isn't
Mercury's kid?

Next we've got Goldust and Marlena, one of the weirdest pairings I've witnessed. I mean... what's the appeal here? What would the stork drop headfirst onto the future Black Reign and the future Terri's door, had they mated?





Oh, how unfortunate; little Goldy went and inherited somebody's weight problem! She could always go the route of Black Reign; I mean, black is sooo slimming! Kind of.

Yep, just two this week, but stay tuned next week for an absolutely frightening edition of If They Mated: One Night Near Chyna, And Hope to God Not IN Her~!

Welcome once again to Hey Man, Nice Shoot! I'm Catherine, and with me this week are two guys with a legion of fans... made up of children... JESSE AND FESTUS~! Jesse, Festus, how nice of you two to be here to chat this week.

Jesse: Oh, well, Festus here ain't doin' much talkin'.

Oh, 'cause he's a re---

Jesse: Shy, that's right!

Of course. So, I noticed Festus took a hell of a beating from Edge last night. Is he feeling any better?

Jesse: Of course he's alright! He's Festus! Festus has a hard head on his shoulders, you know. See that face? THAT is the face of a guy with a hard head on his shoulders!

Oh, I'll bet. Let's change the subject before I say something that greatly offends. So, what's with the lack of gold? Are you two going to be holding some titles anytime soon?

Jesse: Are you kiddin' me? Festus here is the current North Carolina Pig Feet Eatin' Champion~! Ain't that right, Festus?
Festus: ...
Jesse: Dang right!

Wonderful. Actually, I'm a bit surprised that Festus can do more than stand around with his tongue hanging out. Were you force feeding him those pig feet?

Jesse: Nahhh, of course not! Festus here, he's all business when the bell rings!

That's right; he gets all violent and scary, right?

Jesse: Violent? Scary? No~! He just gets all business!

Care to elaborate?

Jesse: ...you know... like... all business.

Well, yeah, I got that part, but all business how?

Jesse: ...are we gettin' Punk'd like on the television?

Do I look like Ashton Kutcher?

Jesse: The fella with the trucker hats?

...let's move on. What were you guys doing before making it big in WWE?

Jesse: Well, I was unemployed, I reckon. Festus here was winnin' some money off'a them pig feet eatin' contests. One day Festus went and fell right on his head while we were workin' on the farm, and Mama came out ringin' the bell so everybody would come in and eat, and Festus here? Festus went chargin' at Mama, and, well, let's just say that Mama wasn't too pleased to see that Festus went and broke the Budweiser wall clock.

Quite the compelling story---

Jesse: Down the road we all started noticin' that Festus would just be all business when bells rang, so we decided that we could earn ourselves a whole load of money tryin' to wrestle on the TV! Our big break came when WWE called Festus up askin' him to put on a Kane costume and kick Kane's ass.

Festus was behind that?

Jesse: Sure was! Kane beat his ass right outta the arena after he noticed that Festus was droolin' all over his mask. I guess he wasn't too happy about that, seein' it was his daddy's mask and all.

So, fast forward to today where you two are being cheered in arena's all over the world. By children, and maybe their parents. How does it feel to have so many kids supporting you guys?

Jesse: It's great! We love kids, don't we, Festus?
Festus: ...

Jesse: Yep, we think kids are great. Festus wants some kids of his own someday. So if any of you ladies out there watchin' us at home wanna get with Festus, you can give us a call at 555-6953~!

And then promptly dial the Suicide Hotline right after.

Jesse: What's that?

Nothing. Nothing at all. Hey! It looks like Hey Man, Nice Shoot's co-executive producer, Katy, is on the stage tonight! This could be important. Did I finally get Shawn Michaels booked for an interview?

Katy: Well, no. He's got church on Fridays.

No one goes to church on Fridays.

Katy: Hey, that's what his agent told me! You'd sooner book The Rock. Please book The Rock.

We'll make it happen. So, then, what're you doing here, interrupting my interview and such?

Katy: Well, I was sitting over there, listening to Jesse here and um...

[Katy pulls out a ring bell and a stick while grinning from ear to ear.]

Oh, God... don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare!

Katy: Sorry, Catherine, but we need the ratings~!

[Katy rings the bell, causing Festus to leap off his seat and go batshit insane.]


Jesse: Now, Festus, calm down! These are nice people!

[Festus grabs Jesse and snaps him in half before tossing him out a window. He proceeds to tear the entire studio apart.]


Katy: Oh, now this is quality programming!


[As Katy rings the bell again, Festus calms himself and reverts back to having a big, stupid look on his face. Charlie Haas charges into the studio and dropkicks Festus the fuck out of the same window Jesse was tossed out of. Festus, unaffected, dives headfirst into a car. He then gets up and walks away at a snail's pace, passing by a fucked up Jesse.]

Katy: By the way, the extra 1.0 rating that's sure to come in? You're welcome.
Haas: People are actually going to see ME on TV? OHMYGODYAY~!

You so ruined my interview. [Sigh.] Well then, be sure to join me next week for some fun times with Victoria and Natalya Neidhart on a special birthday edition of Hey Man, Nice Shoot~! You both owe me presents.

And that does it for Deadface Walking! Next week, I'll be celebrating a more important holiday than Independence Day with a special belated 20th birthday edition of Deadface (my birthday's on the 10th; feel free to send me e-mails and other awesome things). By the way, feel free to send me feedback on this week's column via MySpace or the e-mail address below. Make sure to check out the rest of the Staff's updates for the week; they may not be having birthdays, but they need love too, damn it! And much like the hair on Shawn Michaels's hairline, I'm out~!

Catherine Perez is a proud owner of three e-mails from WWE's legal department, which she regularly prints out for when all the toilet paper runs out.  She was the first person to call the Ghostbusters after witnessing something strange in her neighborhood, and is thus immortalized in a song that was made popular four years before her birth.  Catherine enjoys collecting vintage WWF t-shirts, painting on her clothing, and the smell of crushed dreams in the mornings. She also shot J.R.

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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.).