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The Sixth Child presents…

 

A look at the world of wrestling through the eyes of a film buff.

V11(ahhhhh) – "Dazed and Confused"

Like a drunken uncle who only calls when he wants money, welcome to the latest edition of DONE!

 

That’s right, it’s been about five weeks since my last update, and many thanks to those who crammed my inbox with countless emails. Sure, they’re all ads for Viagra and links to the latest celebrity sex tapes, but that’s as close as I get to contact with the outside world these days, so I’ll take those as supportive memos nevertheless.

Seriously though, the delay was mostly due to work (as in the place that actually pays me *cough*Carlessisacheapbastard*cough*) kicking my ass over the past few weeks. But it has given me the opportunity to come up with more ideas for your favourite TWF column.

 

But after Catherine rejected my ideas for “Deadface Walking”, I was left with little time to write my column, which I naturally squandered watching the latest Steven Segal box set back-to-back.

 

So here’s what I got.

 

I’ve always been curious about what wrestlers did before they became famous. Scotty 2 Hotty once worked as a banker. Big Show was a car salesman. Brutus ‘the Barber’ Beefcake was a train conductor… oh wait, that was after he was famous. Ah fuckit, you get the idea.

 

Anyway, I decided to go back even further by pondering what WWE superstars were like back in high-school. That left me open to a plethora of brilliant titles: The Breakfast Club, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, American Graffiti, Principal Dildo and the

 

 

Ditsy Chicks

 

(phone rings)

 

Hello…? (pause) What do you mean that last one was no good? (pause) It’s set in a high-school isn’t it? (pause) I don’t care… what’s that? (pause) Yeah. (pause) You’ve seen it haven’t you? (pause) So you know it’s a great film. (pause) Yeah, the scene with the typewriter… (pause) I know. (pause) Yeah, yeah, I know. So I can leave it in? (pause) Perfect. Thanks Ma.

 

(hangs up)

 

Anyway, I’ve decided to go with is Dazed and Confused  (insert RVD joke here). This absolute gem from 1993 (and is still Richard Linklater’s best film) surrounds the last day of high school in a small Texan town in 1976. We’re treated to a bunch of stories, but two main characters emerge. There’s Randall “Pink” Floyd, the school’s star quarterback who’s having a crisis of conscience, and incoming freshman Mitch Kramer who goes from hapless to hero in one night.

 

It’s 1:05pm on May 28, 1976 – the last day of classes at Robert E. Lee High School. David Batista, the school’s star quarterback, is walking through the halls until he runs into classmate Robert Szatkowski (RVD) who, as always, is absolutely ripped.

BATISTA: Szatkowski san!

 

RVD: (slurred) Hey man. What time is the party tonight?

 

BATISTA: 9:30.

 

RVD: (giggling uncontrollably) Alright, I’ll be there man. But I got a close bind this afternoon on some business, if you know what I’m talking about.

 

BATISTA: Weed?

 

RVD: Naw man, a teacher’s making me take this stupid dance class. He says I have “educated feet”, whatever that means. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

 

BATISTA: OK, see ya.

 

RVD: (walking away) Oh man, I am so fucking wasted.

 

A little while later Batista is in class until fellow jock Paul Levesque (HHH) comes along to drop something off to him.

 

HHH: (handing a paper to Batista) Coach gave me something to give to you.

 

BATISTA: (reading the paper) (annoyed) They’re really going through with this “wellness policy”?

 

HHH: Yeah, he wants your signature by the end of the day.

 

BATISTA: And everybody’s signing it?

 

HHH: Just to get him off our backs. Coach is just being a big fucking asshole. You just sign it and you never think about it again, just let it go.

 

BATISTA: (seething) Man, he is giving me fewer options than Cyber Sunday.

 

HHH: You’re gonna make a big deal out of this, aren’t you? Just like when he wanted us to play basketball as a warm-up back in March?

 

BATISTA: (intensely) He just doesn’t understand, Paul! Basketballs don’t hold grudges! Basketballs don’t want to knock your teeth down your throat! (yelling) AND HE ISN’T GOING TO ASK A BASKETBALL TO SIGN SOME STUPID CONTRACT!

 

Batista hurls the paper with all his might to the ground, but it floats in mid air for a few seconds before landing neatly at his feet. As his rage subsides he looks up to see his classmates staring at him, puzzled rather than intimidated.

 

NITRO: Man, that guy can’t cut a promo to save himself.

 

Obviously distressed by the news he’s just received, Batista approaches some of his book-smart classmates – Lance Evers (Lance Storm), Chris Nowinski and Nora Greenwald (Molly Holly) – for advice.

 

LANCE: Alright, this is totally amazing. (reading from the paper) “The wellness policy states that teammates cannot indulge in any alcohol or drugs or engage in any other illegal activity that may jeopardise the years of hard work they committed to a championship season in ’76.”

 

CHRIS: You guys are actually signing this crap?

 

BATISTA: Apparently.

 

MOLLY: What’s next? Contracts for what you wear in public?

(long uncomfortable pause)

 

LANCE: I had no idea drugs and alcohol were such a big problem that they had to resort to Neo-McCarthyism.

 

BATISTA: Yeah, next thing we know they’ll issue another Waldorf Statement saying they won’t knowingly take on players that advocate the overthrow of sport department policy.

 

(ALL stare at BATISTA)

 

BATISTA: (nervously) …uh, I mean, MY BITCH OF AN EX-WIFE NEVER VACCUMED AROUND HER I.V DRIP!

 

A while later HHH and another jock, Michael Hickenbottom (Shawn Michaels), collect Batista to take part in an annual summer tradition. Every year the seniors wait outside the junior high school on the last day of class for the incoming freshmen to leave. It is here they are given two options – either be subjected to a humiliating hazing ritual where the seniors spank them unmercifully with paddles, or attend a talk by Bruno Sammartino about how wrestling will always remain family friendly.

Most pick the former.

 

The trio pull up outside the junior high school in Michaels’ pick-up, which is equipped with a PA system to alert the students of their arrival.

 

MICHAELS: (into the PA system) OK all you freshman fucks, listen up! It’s your lucky day. Usually you’d be spending your freshman summer getting your asses busted and running for your worthless little lives. But this year, because we feel so sorry for you, we’re gonna take it easy and save a lot of time. If you meet here after school today, you only get one lick from each of us. But if you run like cowards, well, it’s open season all summer long.

 

(HHH taps MICHAELS on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear)

 

MICHAELS: (into the PA system) Oh yeah, and if you don’t sell any of our licks, you can rest assured we will blackball your asses into Wrestlemania 5000! Oscar Gutierrez, we’re looking for you pal. You think you can upstage us with your colourful clothes and impressive acrobatics? Your ass will be purple before the day is over. Have a nice afternoon.

 

Oscar Gutierrez (Rey Mysterio) was part of a gang the seniors referred to as “the Cruiserweights”, a group of incoming freshmen who were just as athletic as the seniors, but are always picked on because of their small stature. Their high-flying agility and quickness has managed to get them out of a lot of trouble in the past, but the seniors insist they are “not marketable” and they still have a long way to go before they “pay their dues”.

 

In one of the classrooms, Mysterio sits nervously at his desk where his two friends James Yun (Jimmy Wang Yang) and Paul London start to poke fun at him.

LONDON: You better leave town, man. Go spend the summer with your grandparents or something.

 

YANG: You are gonna show up to our game tonight, aren’t you?

 

REY: Yeah, I’m pitching, I kinda have to.

 

LONDON: How should we inscribe your tombstone?

 

YANG: How about “Booyakah! Booyakah! Six feet under”?

 

Michaels, HHH and Batista arrive back at school to finish the rest of their classes. As they walk back towards the building they see their coach: Coach... Coachman.

While they try to pass without him noticing them, Coach yells out to Batista from a few feet away.

 

COACH: Dave Batista!

 

BATISTA: (mumbling) Shit. (turns around)

 

COACH: Before next fall, you are in serious need of an attitude adjustment, young man. You better get your priorities straight. And watch out with that other crowd you’re running with, don’t think I haven’t noticed.

 

BATISTA: I don’t run with anybody. (screeching) I WALK ALOOOOOOOOOONE, YEAAAAH!

 

COACH: Sure you do. I want that piece of paper on my desk before you leave here today. Do you hear me, or do I have to get my ACME detonator?

As they walk away they’re interrupted once again, this time by the sound of a car screeching towards them. The driver is John Layfield, an obnoxious, racist, loudmouth jock who has repeated his last years of high school more than once. Last year he handed in a paper called “Make More Money Now”, which introduced a fiscal policy that would make the guys at Enron plotz.

 

Oh wait, that didn’t happen in 1976… neither did a bunch of other stuff I’ve mentioned so far. Ah fuckit, if Pearl Harbor can do it, so can I.

Anyway, the only thing Layfield loves more than the sound of his own voice is to pound ass with his paddle… and sometimes without it, but that’s not gay in any way whatsoever. 

 

LAYFIELD: (getting out of the car) You guys ready to bust some ass? Call yo mamma! It's on like a pot o' neck bone. I smell like smoke because I have been through fire! I am a true American hero! A WRESTLING GOD! Oh yeah, Michaels, we gotta take your truck, I’m low on gas.

 

MICHAEL: (laughs) If only there was someone who could pay you to be an asshole, you’d be on easy street.

Meanwhile back at the junior high school, the Cruiserweights are talking about the party being organised for later that night.

 

LONDON: Hey, at the party tonight, I heard there’s gonna be a girl with knockers this big!

 

YANG: Bullshit.

 

LONDON: I swear! Two handfuls! They say her name is Big Vis.

 

The guys then notice their friend, James Maritato (Nunzio) signalling to them from the doorway. He dangles a set of keys to let them know he managed to borrow his brother’s car, and they had a way out of school without getting paddled. But they had to convince their teacher to let them out early.

 

REY: Uhhh, Mr Striker, sir. You know, every second that you could let us out early would really increase our chances of survival.

 

STRIKER: (smiles) Boys, if there’s one thing that you have to remember, it’s that you must do things on your own. I mean, if I was to send you out there with a massively obese wrestler for example, it would be like putting a band-aid on the problem rather than addressing the real issue, wouldn’t it?

 

LONDON: Yeah, I guess it would be pretty stupid, especially if it kept going after it didn’t really catch on.

 

STRIKER: Exactly. Now run along.

 

The home bell finally sounds and both the junior and senior high schools are dismissed for the summer. As promised, the seniors surround the junior campus waiting to give several paddlings. The Cruiserweights make it to their waiting car unscathed, but Michaels’ pick-up truck pulls up right beside them with Michaels, JBL and HHH all inside. The Cruiserweights floor it and the seniors give chase. Both cars race down the side-streets avoiding slightly less accidents than Psicosis.

 

London and Rey decide to make a run for it. But as soon as they jump out of their car, JBL is hot on their tail and catches them outside a suburban home.

 

JBL: (grabbing REY and LONDON) Nice try, Cruiserweights. Y’know, this feels a bit weird, not being in a shower-block and all. So I’ll tell you what. For being such brave little kids I’m only gonna give each of you five licks.

Suddenly the front door of the house flies open to reveal Rob Feinstein brandishing a shotgun.

 

FEINSTEIN: (to JBL) I don’t think so, creep. Get off my property. (to REY and LONDON) (licking his lips) You two, get in the house.

(long uncomfortable pause)

 

REY: Uhhh, actually, I think I’ll go with the paddling.

 

LONDON: Ditto.

 

JBL: Jesus! I thought I was fucked up!

 

(ALL run off)

 

FEINSTEIN: (under his breath) Git your fat asses back here!

 

While the freshmen boys were getting chased and paddled, their female counterparts were copping equally humiliating treatment. The senior girls, who everyone dubbed “the Divas” (which was once a term for women of rare, outstanding talent rather than strip-club rejects) were putting the freshmen girls through their paces by smothering them in ketchup, mustard, oatmeal, flour, eggs and whipped cream. It was known as “the Diva Search”, which culminates with the juniors trying to seduce an exchange student from Uganda.

 

The male seniors sit and watch as the “Divas” put the juniors on leashes and lead them around the playground. “Diva” Torrie Wilson then leads one of the juniors, Ashley Masaro, over to HHH and RVD.

TORRIE: (to ASHLEY) Propose to Mr Levesque.

 

(ASHLEY gets on her knees)

 

RVD: There’s a position you’re gonna have to get used to.

 

ASHLEY: (sheepishly) Will you marry me?

 

HHH: (coyly) I don’t know, what’s in it for me?

 

ASHLEY: Anything you want.

 

HHH: OK, you’re gonna have to gain at least another 100 pounds, turn your shrill voice into a baritone and give me 50 per cent of your empire when your father croaks.

 

RVD: (laughing) Yeah, and a main-event spot for me!

 

HHH then lands a pedigree on RVD and pins him clean.

 

A few hours later the seniors gather at the local park where the incoming freshmen are playing little league baseball. HHH, Michaels and JBL wait in the stands with their paddles, paying particular attention to Mysterio. As the game wraps up Rey tries to sneak out the back of the field, but is intercepted by the seniors.

 

They bend Mysterio over the side of a car and start taking turns hitting him. Michaels was first, swatting Mysterio’s rear end like his “lost smile” was in there somewhere trying to escape. Next was HHH, who as usual opted to use his trusty sledgehammer instead of a paddle. Finally was JBL who, at the site of Mysterio presenting his ass to him, had to work out a certain technique where he could strike him without getting in the way of his own massive erection.

 

JR: My God King! WILL SOMEBODY STOP THE DAMN MATCH! ENOUGH’S ENOUGH! THOSE DAMN SENIORS ARE ENJOYING, LOOK, THEY’RE ENJOYING THIS HUMILIATING THREE-ON-ONE BEATING. THAT POOR, DEFENCELESS…

 

KING: Yeah yeah yeah, listen, can we go and see those girls in the oatmeal again?

 

As Batista arrives, the seniors finish their “government mule” session with Rey. As Michaels, HHH and JBL leave they tell Batista to meet them at the local pool hall before the party.

 

As Batista watched Mysterio riving in pain he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, so he drives him home.

 

(BATISTA pulls up to the curb)

 

REY: Thanks, man.

 

BATISTA: Hey listen, me and some of the other guys are probably gonna end up driving around. Want us to stop by and pick you up?

 

REY: You think that’s a good idea?

 

BATISTA: Well, unless you want to ride with Feinstein down the str…

 

REY: OK I’ll go.

 

Meanwhile at the other side of town, Yang, London and Nunzio walk through the darkened streets on their way back from their school social, bragging about their triumphant transition from juniors to freshmen.

 

NUNZIO: Man, that was our last junior high party.

 

LONDON: That’s right, we’re in the big time now. We’re freshmen, and we’re finally gonna get the respect we deserve. Our days of jerking the curtain while the seniors have all the fun are over.

 

As if on cue, the seniors pull up in their car and race after the Cruiserweights. Michaels, HHH and JBL chase down Nunzio and start paddling the living piss out of him as Yang and London watch from a distance. Evidently, nothing has changed. But it will someday… someday.

 

After finishing up with Nunzio, the senior trio head for the Emporium pool hall where they meet up with Batista and Rey, along with their old friend Ric Flair. Although he had graduated from high school several years before, Flair was still very much a regular with the seniors. This can best be described as a desperate attempt to hang on to his former glory days as the youthful “Nature Boy”, but the only thing he managed to maintain was his lisp.

 

HHH: Neich! I haven’t seen you for so long man!

 

FLAIR: Hey there, champ! Wooooo! Long time no thee.

 

HHH: What you been up to?

 

FLAIR: The thame old, man. Working for the thity. Been thinking about going back to thchool though. That’th where all the girlth are at, right? Woooo!

 

BATISTA: That’s right.

 

FLAIR: But I may jutht keep working, keep a little change in my pocket rather that lithen to some dipshit who dothen’t know what he’th talking about anyway. Wooo! (to REY) You’re a freshman, right?

 

REY: Yeah?

 

FLAIR: Tho how’th thith year’th crop of freshman chickth lookin’? (laughs) Woooo!

 

REY: (puzzled) (to BATISTA) What did he say?

 

FLAIR: (turning on his nutty Ric Flair demeanour) Man, that’th what I love about theth high-thchool girlth. They jutht love… WOOOO… to ride Thpace Mountain babay! It may be the oldetht ride in the park, WOOOO… but it thtill hath the longetht line!

 

After several minutes of every person within a mile radius wooing along with Flair (who for some reason ends up rolling on the ground convulsing), the seniors send Rey for a beer run. After buying a six pack he sees the rest of the Cruiserweights.

 

REY: Man, you guys owe me one.

 

LONDON: (laughs) Yeah, they busted the hell out of Maritato too.

 

YANG: You’re over at the Emporium?

 

REY: Yeah.

 

NUNZIO: Is that cazzo Layfield over there?

 

REY: (rolls his eyes) Yes. I hate that jerk.

 

NUNZIO: That ignorant fuck called me a Maltese falcon. I’m fucking Italian!

 

YANG: So? I’m Korean and he thought I was Japanese!

 

LONDON: Well I’m Hispanic and he’s never given shit to me.

 

ALL: You’re Hispanic?

 

It was with that valuable bit of information that the Cruiserweights come up with a plan to finally get some payback from JBL. It would start with Rey having to approach him back at the Emporium.

 

REY: Hey Layfield.

 

JBL: What do you want, jumping bean?

 

REY: (laughs) Jumping bean, that’s hilarious! Really original too. (wipes tear from his eye) Hey listen, you know who else is Hispanic? That guy you almost paddled today, Paul London.

 

JBL: (eyes widening) He’s Hispanic?

 

REY: Yeah, and some of the other seniors managed to catch him outside.

 

JBL immediately runs to his car to get his paddle and sees a few other seniors across the street with London cornered.

 

JBL: (to the other seniors) Whoa! Hold on there boys! You don’t mind if I go first, do ya? It’s kind of a personal thing between me and this little border-jumper over here.

 

LONDON: I was born in Texas.

 

JBL: Shut your mouth! Say, have you had any licks yet?

 

LONDON: No.

 

JBL: (trying to maintain his erection) Another cherry here boys!

 

JBL pushes London to face the side of a building, setting him up for the paddling of a lifetime. But JBL suddenly feels a splash on his shoulder. He looks up to see the remaining Cruiserweights on the building’s rooftop holding a can of white paint. As London makes a run for it, they dump the paint all over JBL.

 

CRUISERWEIGHTS: It’s alright, cuz it’s all white!

 

YANG: You racist fuck!

 

The Cruiserweights immediately run off to their waiting car, leaving JBL looking like the set of a bad Gangrel porno. Across the street everyone laughs, especially HHH and Michaels.

 

MICHAELS: Man, that was awesome!

 

HHH: Yeah, if only it was green paint and JBL was a group of young up-and-comers we could make fools out of! That would have been hilarious!

 

Defeated, embarrassed and blind with rage, JBL leaves. But he vows to not rest until he gets the last laugh over Mysterio… even if it retires him.

The rest of the seniors decide it’s finally time to head out to the woods for that party everyone’s been talking about. Hours later the forest is crawling with drunken and stoned teens, including RVD and his pot-smoking cronies.

 

RVD: (puffing away on a joint) I’m telling you, Vincent Kennedy McMahon tokes weed, man. He grows fields of that stuff. I mean Saba Simba, Red Rooster, the Buddy Rose Blowaway Diet? How can he think that shit would actually get over? He smoked weed, that’s why. His wife harvests all the bushels and…

 

STONER #1: Uhhh, you know, it is 1976. I don’t think any of those storylines you mentioned have happened yet.

 

(long uncomfortable pause)

 

RVD: (freaking out) Oh my God! WE CAN SEE THE FUTURE!

 

Meanwhile, Michaels takes Batista aside to talk to him, fearing he may be starting to wane from the pack ever since the whole “wellness policy” controversy.

 

MICHAELS: Why don’t you wanna sign the pledge?

 

BATISTA: I don’t know, man. Maybe I’m not into any of it anymore.

 

MICHAELS: Not into any of it? Don’t make the biggest mistake of your life, man. No-one quits senior year. This is what we’ve been working for our whole lives.

 

BATISTA: All I’m saying is if I’m gonna play it’s gonna be on my terms, not theirs.

 

MICHAELS: You don’t understand, Dave. Being part of a team, a special group, a clique, the world is at your feet. You don’t have to take any crap from anybody.

(pause)

 

MICHAELS: (rubbing his mouth) (mumbling) Just don’t upstage me.

 

BATISTA: Huh?

 

MICHAELS: Nothing, man, nothing. (rubbing his mouth) (mumbling) Don’t steal my thunder, motherfucker.

 

BATISTA: What?

 

MICHAELS: I didn’t say anything. (rubbing his mouth) (mumbling) Stay off my perch, you prick.

 

BATISTA: Man, fuck this.

 

As the party winds up, Batista, HHH, RVD and Flair decide to head for the high school football field to smoke weed. As they lay on the 50 yard line baked out of their brains, Flair goes back to the car to get some more papers. But he returns with an interesting find.

 

FLAIR: (reading from the pledge) “The wellness policy states that teammates cannot indulge in any alcohol or drugs or engage in any other illegal activity…” (laughs) I found that in the glove compartment.

 

BATISTA: (taking the sheet) Y’know you’re the third person to give this to me today

 

FLAIR: Tho what are you gonna do?

 

BATISTA: I don’t know man, I’ll probably end up signing it. I just don’t want to give in so easily.

 

FLAIR: Man, ith the thame bullshit they tried to pull in my day. If it’th not that paper, therth thome other choith they’re gonna try and make for you. You gotta do what David Batithta… WOOOOO… wanth to do. The older you get, the more ruleth they’re gonna try to make you follow. You jutht gotta keep livin’, man.

 

RVD: If you’re gonna sign that paper, throw some grass in the middle, roll it up, sign the joint, man, that’ll tell ‘em. That’s how I sign my contracts.

 

HHH: But you gotta think, man, we’ve had a lot of really good times here.

 

BATISTA: All I’m saying is that if I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life, remind me to kill myself.

 

HHH: Well, all I’m saying is I just wanna look back and say that I did it the best I could while I was stuck in this place. I had as much fun as I could when I was stuck in this place. Buried as many midcarders as I could while I was stuck in this place. (rubbing his mouth) (mumbling) Just don’t upstage me.

 

BATISTA: What?

 

Their conversation is suddenly interrupted by a squad car pulling up nearby. The officers order the group to come over and line up. Having been in this situation countless times, RVD automatically counsels everyone on their rights as they approach the waiting policemen.

 

The police call Coach to come to the field and talk to Batista and HHH. It’s dawn by the time he arrives.

 

COACH: Levesque! Batista! Get your scrawny butts over here!

 

HHH: Mornin’ Coach.

 

COACH: What the hell is going on? Why am I getting wakeup calls from the cops?

 

BATISTA: False alarm, Coach, they just left.

 

COACH: Batista, have you been hanging out with those losers all night?

 

RVD: (waving) Hey, Coach! Remember me?

COACH: Yeah, the stoner who keeps pointing at himself. (to BATISTA) That’s the kind of people I was telling you about. Trouble like this means nothing to that bunch of clowns, you’re the one with something to lose.

 

BATISTA: Coach, you don’t even know them.

 

COACH: I don’t need to know them. I’m Johnathan Coachman, and if there is anyone who has a flawless record at picking good character, it’s me. Now I want you to get your priorities straight, stop hanging out with a bunch of hoodlums, and sign your wellness policy agreement. Have you done that yet?

 

BATISTA: I’m still thinking about it.

 

COACH: (seething) No-one’s paying you to think about it! Just do it, son!

 

BATISTA: (calmly) You know what, Coach? I might play ball… but I will never sign that.

Batista throws the contract into Coach’s truck and walks away. An outraged Coach then drives off as RVD and Flair congratulate Batista on his decision. HHH acts solemnly in front of Batista, but inside he’s doing cartwheels at how he now has less of a chance of being upstaged.

 

Batista ended up being dropped from the team because of his act of defiance. But while a lot of people respected him for taking a stand, they later found out his decision to do so was a lot less inspiring than first thought. While people thought he was maintaining his youthful optimism and freedom, rumour has it that Dave had been pumping himself with growth hormones to build on his skinny physique, and if he signed the contract it would have given them cause to test him.

 

After these allegations appeared in a magazine, Batista tried to prove his innocence by going to court… because clearly that means he has nothing to hide.

THE END

 

Credits.

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The Sixth Child is a journalist based in Melbourne, Australia. When he’s not feeding his pet kangaroos Binky and Bunky, he watches, reviews and obsesses over films while casually fucking swearing. Last year he came second in an arm-wrestling tournament at the Las Vegas Hilton – he drives a truck, breaks arms, and arm wrestles. It's what he loves to do. It’s what he does best.

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TWF FLASHBACK

November 2006

SATIRE: DISCONTINUED WWE XMAS PRODUCTS!

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.).