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Ah, Wrestlemania 2. The Hollow Man 2 to Wrestlemania's Hollow Man. Stop laughing. It's apropos, I'm telling you. Truth is, until Wrestlemania 3, they were BRUTALLY bad. It's just that Wrestlemania 1, like the 1st Hollow Man, was a tad bit less terrible. So ya, there you go.  Beloved & revered Wrestling history equated to a shitty Kevin Bacon flick where he becomes transparent and rapes people, and it's subsequent straight-to-DVD sequel. 
That said, if only Hogan, like Bacon, had the ability to become invisible. Only like, you know, forever. I mean, why not? I mean, that's been the case with Randy Savage for the last 14 years, so it IS possible (Hollow Man Randy Savage?). Get your (gigantic beaming orange) head in the game, Hulk.
Anyway, this event actually emanated from 3 DIFFERENT venues, thus giving crowds in Chicago, Uniondale New York and Los Angeles the chance to witness 3 really terrible cards, as opposed to just one. Lucky them. The official tagline was "WHAT THE WORLD HAS COME TO", which sounds a hell of a lot more like a tagline a studio would use to move porn. But then again, when you think about it, the two worlds do have their similarities. Especially in the 80's. You know, half naked ugly dudes with giant mustaches trying to lay on people, a woman being pursued by a horribly un-photogenic hairy man, midgets in compromising situations, a dude unfurling his giant snake and laying it someone's prone body, etc. It's all perverse. Hell, the WWE's opening at this time even put over "the Greeks and how they used to do it". Dear god, this is all getting WAY out of hand. I think I'll stop now.
Let's get to the action! Kind of!
Your announcers here are Vince McMahon and Susan St. James of Kate & Allie, umm, fame. What, they couldn't get Wesley from fucking Mr. Belvedere or the hot sister from Alf? What, Bea Arthur too fucking busy to MC this thing? Holy shit. Actually, seriously, at this point, St. James was married to NBC president and McMahon supporter Dick Ebersole. And obviously, Dick called in a favor and forced his old lady on WWF here. Man, thank god Vince learned his lesson from Ebersole here, and saw that using your position to force family members and their spouses on everyone is a terrible way to conduct business. Oh.
Magnificent Muraco w/ Mr. Fuji vs. Paul "Mr. Wonderful" Orndorff.
This was a course the big blow-off to the non-existent feud that was lighting up no arena in the country. These two were just thrown together like two retards in a potato sack race and told 'go'. Hell, they didn't even put over the fact that both men were MASTERS of the piledriver. I myself have a bachelor's degree in piledriving. Perhaps, one day, when I finish my tenure at the institution that educated the feet of Rob Van Dam, I too will have earned my Masters. My thesis is awesome. It involves turning a man upside down and dropping him on his head. Degree here I come.
Oh ya, both men jockey around for a bit and Orndorff holds onto an impossibly long wristlock. Hell, even Randy Orton would be shaking his head. While applying a chinlock. The sad thing is Mr. Fuji didn't even play a part here. Which begs the question. How the fuck did anyone ever think that sticking Fuji as someone's mouthpiece would get them over? I think I've understood like maybe three things Fuji's ever said. Something about suffering, I think. He must have been talking about this match. Even at 8, I knew it was bad, and I was a kid who thought neon jammers and acid-wash were like the coolest shit ever.
Anyway, Muraco ends up dumping Orndorff and his still proportioned arms-at-the-time over the top, and both end up getting counted out in about 4 minutes. Or in the redundancy filled era of WWF, the official announcement: "Both men have been counted outside the ring, the official decision: a double count out...you know, on the account that both men, those men, both of them, were counted out. So again. Double count-out. In case you missed it, both were outside past ten seconds. And the referee counted. To Ten. They were out. Both. Both out. Double Count-Out. Ya". Of course I'm just paraphrasing here....
Randy Savage w/ Elizabeth vs. George "The Animal" Steele: Intercontinental Title.
I imagine on WWE's newest Wrestlemania anthology, Steele is just seen wrestling a pixilated blob. I myself would mark out if WWE just opted to replace anyone undesirable in WWE's history with HHH's head. I mean, let's give these monkeys something creative to do for once that doesn't involve skewering every "f" in the universe like it was a fucking secret mob witness on TV. And besides, it's not like once Vince dies, Hunter's not going to do it anyway.
Anyway, these two at this point were seemingly heterosexual lifemates, as they would wrestle, and wrestle and wrestle and wrestle and wrestle for like a year and half before someone realized, "Holy shit, this is the same fucking match forever!" and it stopped. That person than either quit or died when CM Punk and Chavo Guerrero started feuding.
This match is for the Intercontinental Title, a title Savage had just won, nay I say, STOLE a month earlier from Tito Santana, if the pleas of one Gorilla Monsoon were to be believed. And why wouldn't they be? The man taught me everything I know about the truly important issues, not just limited to the differences between wristlocks and wristwatches, respectively. He was especially proficient at anatomy. It's sad, because I took 4 years of high school Science and can't remember one fucking thing, yet, because of Gorilla, I know what the name of that little bump at the base of my skull is called, and to avoid compromising my lateral collateral ligaments. It's just science. Which I failed.
That all said, this entire feud was built on George's "pure love" for Elizabeth. Unlike the rest of us, who wanted to ravage Mrs. umm, Macho Man Savage in an entirely un-pure manner. Fuck you, Wrestlemania 2 and The World, Miss Elizabeth was what I've Come to. Many times.
The match itself just basically is Steele chasing Savage in circles and throwing little silly props at him. It's kind of like The 3 Stooges, only with more flying elbows and sexual tension. Or less. There was never any women around on those old episodes, after all.  I still stand by my stooges analogy, though. I mean, we even had an idiotic well-meaning fat, bald guy and a dude with a frazzled receding horse-shoe running in circles. All we lacked here was a Moe. Hell, while we're on the topic, I think Moe had a more varied offense than what fucking Steele is giving us here. At least Moe would transition his eye-poke to a hair pull. Dear god.
Savage eventually gets a flying axe-handle on the outside to Steele as he propositioned Elizabeth, and then Savage hits the flying elbow inside--but Steele kicks out! The only other dude to ever do that would be another bald-headed Liz Luster a few of years later. Steele then utilizes a Greco-roman turnbuckle-padding toss, but walks into Randy scooping his legs in the corner and getting pin with his own feet on the ropes for leverage. ANIMAL CRUELTY~!
Winner & Still Champion: Randy Savage. The greatest nonexistent Intercontinental Champion of all time. Ohhh Yeahhh. Dig it! You know, as in a hole. Then put all records of his existence in there and cover it back over. Vince will appreciate it. Trust me.
-Back in Chicago, Gene Okerlund is standing by with Big John Studd and NFLer Bill Fralic, whom I think WWE keeps cryogenically frozen in the basement in Titan Tower and unthaws in the event of a joint-sport Publicity Stunt. You wrestling Historians out there will recall that Fralic also showed up on the USS Intrepid in 1993 and unsuccessfully attempted to slam Yokozuna. And here, at Wrestlemania, he was jawing with a dude whom like Yoko, also vowed that he could not be slammed. Both men also won Royal Rumbles at number 27, and both are DEAD. And clearly, Bill Fralic is somehow responsible, with his bodyslams, boyish grin and strange mismatched unitard. Clearly, the facts speak for themselves. Attempted bodyslams hold some sort of long-term ramifications and shorten lives. Man, no wonder Andre died like a week after Wrestlemania 3! Perhaps one day Bill Fralic and Hulk Hogan will be brought to justice. I'd mention, Luger, too,  but well, justice was kind of already served there. What can I say.
Jake Roberts vs. George Wells.
Playing the role of SD Jones tonight will be George Wells. And I say that, because when it comes to Wrestlemania, black people are usually not allowed to win matches by pinfall, unless it's against other black people. The first and only for YEARS to even win by pinfall would be Butch Reed, and well, he thought he was a white guy. I could see how people could make that mistake with that beautiful blond hair and dark brown skin. Anyway, this is Jake's big PPV debut and he destroys Wells, eventually hitting the DDT. We learn on Tuesday Night Titans soon after from Jake that DDT stands for "Damien's Dinner Time", which is kind of ironic, because like 20 years later, it's Jake himself who would forget to feed Damian and he starved to death. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that Jake just ate all the food. Which is also puzzling to me. I thought crack was supposed to make you thinner? Yet, these days, fucking circa-1984 Optimus Prime has more of a svelte upper-body build than both Jake & Roddy Piper. What gives?
After the match, Jake pulls out Damian to the horror of Susan St. James. He then wraps it around Wells, who then begins foaming a strange white discharge from the mouth. Huh. I imagine this was the scene after Sylvan Grenier was interviewed by Pat Patterson for employment in 2003. Three months later, he was Tag Team Champion. Coincidence? I think not.
-Backstage, Roddy Piper, with Bob Orton, is interviewed about his boxing match with Mr. T. He vows that if T can defeat him, he will retire from boxing, wrestling, tiddlywinks and even dating girls, but makes a point to say he'll still keep Bob Orton around. Dear god. Perhaps there's some road stories Randy hasn't heard from dear old Dad. Maybe there's a reason why he's dressed like a member of the fucking Village People for 30 years. I'm afraid to ask.
Rowdy Roddy Piper w/ Ace Orton & Lou "Melting under the hot lights" Duva vs. Mr. T w/ Smokin' Joe Frazier & Haiti Kid.: BIG OL' FAKE BOXING MATCH.
Hey look! One of your judges here is G. Gordon Liddy! One of the masterminds behind the Watergate break-in. What would Vince have in common with a guy that shady who refuses to ever really admit any wrongdoing in a scandal? Oh.
Now, as for the match, well, I could do round by round coverage here, but as I mentioned in March of 2005 during my vaunted "WORST WRESTLEMANIA MATCHES EVER", I despise this match and everything it stands for. So, I'm just going to paraphrase and borrow from that piece, because like a victim of sexual assault, I don't really want to relive this moment again. ("Yes, officer! That man with the mohawk was the one who did this to me! I still can't watch really terrible fake boxing without seeing his face! *sniffle*".).
This match is of course a fallout from the previous year's Wrestlemania, and was brought about when Piper & Orton, to get to T, shaved a midget (Haiti Kid). And yes, apparently, like giving a Giant a haircut, this RAPED HIS DIGNITY. So, for those of you counting, if you give a haircut to ANYONE with a malfunctioning pituitary gland, it's tantamount to RAPE. I'd just be thankful it wasn't literal, Haiti. Imagine the damage Ace's cast could to your nether regions. You'd be able to shit out another full midget. So, ya, long story umm, short, T took offense to this, and challenged both Orton, and eventually Piper to boxing matches. So, see, there's already a precedent set as far as MIDGET ABUSE setting up a marquee match at this event goes. What can I say? Sometimes the classics still work. And then there's beating up midgets.
This was your big payoff. Ten rounds of sucking. Err Boxing. An actor who's never really boxed against a dude who only last did when he was 16 and just looking for an excuse to not sleep under a fucking park bench. WRESTLEMANIA: WHERE MEMORIES ARE INDELIBLY ETCHED INTO THE ANNALS OF TIME. Quick, pass me the WD-40 before it sets in.
The combatants enter and we get our introductions. And strangely, despite promising for weeks, Piper has not painted himself black. (Unlike Wrestlemania 6). I'd like to try it myself if only to see if by proxy I'd get a giant member like stereotypes persist. It can't hurt. Unless you're a woman on the receiving end, I suppose. THIS IS THE MOST PERVERTED RANT EVER.
Oh, for the record, strikes here against T for having Joe Frazier in his corner, instead of HOWLING MAD MURDOCH, COL HANNIBAL and/or the A-Team Van itself. I mean, Frazier? Who did he ever beat? Oh.
The  two "box" for 2 rounds with neither really getting the advantage. Piper however is getting cheered here and T booed. Perhaps by on the account that like his speech to Rocky in Rocky 3, T was bringing Pain. Sure, it's on the account of his performance, and more of a mental pain, but hey, whatever. It still hurts.
In the 3rd round, the match ends up in a disqualification when Piper bodyslams Mr. T, which is apparently illegal in boxing or something. Who'd have thunk it.
Winner by way of boxing bodyslam disqualification: Mr. T.  A disputed finish not seen since Muhammad Ali lost to Larry Holmes for busting out a flying head-scissors. Or not.
Your commentators are Mean Gene Okerlund, Gorilla Monsoon and Cathy Lee Crosby. The other Cathy Lee. No small Asian children were harmed in the making of these shoes. She is however, best known for co-hosting the stunt show "THAT'S INCREDIBLE." It really wasn't that incredible.  As a matter of fact, once you seen one asshole launched out of a cannon, it gets old pretty quick.
Fabulous Moolah vs. Velvet McIntyre
As 1986 began, the WWF's women's division was all but dead. At this point, it was basically a bunch of fat old ladies in bathing-suits throwing jimmy elbows. Wrestling Moolah at this stage was kind of like being caught in the middle of a flabby armed spanking machine. It wasn't always this way, though. Just about 6 months earlier, Wendi Richter was your champion and insanely over. She then made the unenviable mistake of asking Vince McMahon for more money, and of course not putting out for Iron Sheik despite partaking in his medicine. The rest was history. Vince screwed Wendi. Then Hugo Savinovich married her, and unlike Sheiky, got to screw her anytime he wanted.  Of course, all while insisting on living in an entirely empty apartment void of furniture, because it just brings up too many bad memories. True story.
Anyway, this is match is basically a lot like my lovemaking. There's an angry woman, a lot of flailing, at one point someone's facing the wrong way, more awkwardness, a lot of discomfort, and bang, it's over in about a minute and change. The whole thing was basically a squash, as Moolah hands the "pride of Ireland" (No wonder they all drink! How depressing!) her seemingly non-existent ass. The end comes when Velvet goes for a top rope splash, but misses, and I'll be damned if her titties didn't come flying out. Unfortunately, this is an era where all the lady Rassler's looked like members of your Mom's bridge club, so put away your cock, funboy. Moolah then gets the academic pin and retains the title. Yes, academic. Reading, math and school boy roll ups. No wonder our education system is in such trouble...
Cpl. Kirshener vs. Nikolai Volkoff: FLAG MATCH.
Ah yes. The Flag Match. Featuring the 82nd Airborne's contribution to the WWF, Cpl. Kirshener; a man, whom like Sgt. Slaughter before him, never seemed to ever raise his rank. I mean, come on, it's been 30 years, shouldn't they both be fucking Generals by now?
Anyway, as if it wasn't evident, the winner of this match gets to wave their Flag. The whole things lasts about 2 fucking minutes, but not before they somehow shoehorned fifteen minutes worth of bullshit into it. Seriously, there was a blade job AND a ref bump in the first 90 seconds. Holy shit. Classy Freddie Blassie tries to toss Nikolai his cane, but Kirshener catches it, levels Vokoff and gets the pin...for AMERICA. It's said that Gorbachev was so horrified by this match, that he immediately ended communism, and tore down the Berlin Wall, so he could re-erect it around his Television set. Save me a piece, Gorby.
Winner: Cpl Kirshener! This would be the last match I think I ever saw The Corporal win. He'd do about 3000 straight jobs in a row, and then go to Japan where he reinvented himself as LEATHERFACE. Yes, he traded in his flag and beret for a chainsaw and cannibalism.  Holy shit. What did the VIETNAM WAR do to this man?! Ahem.
My invitation must have been lost in the mail. Oh well. it looked like a shitty party anyway.
This is of course the famed Battle Royal featuring Wrestlers and Football players alike. Your outside Referees are Dick "what the fuck did MY Ancestors do for a living"  Butkus and Ed "Too Tall" (Seriously! Stop growing already!) Jones.
The wrestlers included were Andre The Giant, King Tonga, (Haku) who umm, must have abdicated his umm, throne, if he's selling used cars on the panhandle these days; The Hart Foundation, Bruno Sammartino, Iron Sheik, B. Brian Blair (watch your ass. Literally!), Jumping Jim Brunzell, "Not Jumping Around For Whitey Yet" Tony Atlas (that'd be about 4 more years), Hillbilly Jim, or Jim as he's know back in them there hills, "The World's Strongest Man" and wrestling's contribution to wearing his socks like my grandfather: Ted Arcidi; Pedro Morales, Big John Studd and Golden Boy Danny Spivey, who's wearing gold trunks with long blond hair. Silly, Spivey. No tall heavily-tanned blond dude in yellow trunks ever got over in this company! ahem.
On the football side you had Jimbo Colvert, Harvey Martin, Ernie Holmes, Bill Fralic, Russ Francis,...who if you squinted hard enough looked like Gabe Kaplan from Welcome Back Kotter, and WWE HALL OF FAMER~!, WILLIAM 'THE REFRIGERATOR' PERRY. I guess he got that name, because like a fridge, he's filled entirely with food. He's since upgraded to an industrial freezer if you saw him at the Hall Of Fame a couple of years ago. But seriously, how hilarious is it, that a guy who TOOK ONE BUMP, is in the Hall of Fame, yet there's dudes who MAIN EVENTED WRESTLEMANIA and won the WWF Title who still  haven't, and probably will never be inducted.
Anyway, I'd recap this whole thing, but It's a BATTLE ROYAL. You know what happened. Dudes held onto the ropes with other dudes actually holding them in place so they don't accidentally fall out. All you need to know is Studd eliminated Perry, elbowing the Fridge out after a failed corner charge (The crisper broke, and there was food everywhere!), and then Perry illegally eliminated Studd soon after with a fake handshake of sportsmanship. No wonder the Studd family never asked him to pall bearer.  He'd walk half way down the church, then flip the casket. He'd then eat all the little tiny sandwiches during the wake. It'd be awkward for everybody.  Your final five are Andre, Russ Francis, his porn mustache, and the Hart Foundation. Ya, needless to say, Andre, looking like he squeezed himself into a child's underwear, ended up prevailing. After Francis was sent to the floor and back to 1972 to finish depositing his load in the face of Marilyn Chambers, The Hart's double-teamed Andre, who then got tired of this shit and tossed them out one after the other. He then drank 3000 bottles of wine backstage, and still didn't die. Unlike with that Hogan bodyslam.
The Dream Team (Brutus Beefcake & Greg Valentine) w/ Johnny V. Vs. The British Bulldogs w/ Capt. Lou Albano & Ozzy Osbourne(~!) : WWF Tag Team Title match.
This is the Bulldogs last title shot against Beefcake & Valentine, and for tonight, they have Ozzy in their corner! But why? What would a completely drug-addled dude from England have in common with Davey Boy Smith & Dynamite Kid? Oh.
The Bulldogs control most of this one, but the tide turns when Beefcake nearly kills Davey with a hammerlock slam with his arm behind his back. It's not Warrior's trap door of Destrucity shedding 40 years off your life, but it's close. From there, Hammer & Beefcake takes turns double-teaming Davey, but eventually, he has the foresight to run Hammer right into Dynamite's head on the apron--which thanks to all the HGH the dude had ingested, was about the size of a European car. Valentine's head then explodes, he dies, and Davey scores the pin and the titles. Great match. Ozzy then comes into the ring and celebrates with the new champions. Thank God Matilda wasn't there. At this stage, Ozzy would have ate her.
Your hosts are Lord Alfred Hayes, Jesse "The Body" Ventura & Elvira "Holy shit, now that's a body" Mistress of the Dark. I may not be nosferatu, but I wouldn't mind burying a stiff there. I'm telling you.
Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat vs. Hercules Hernandez
Holy shit, check out the afro on Herc here. You can't tell me the motherfucker couldn't track down a reputable barber anywhere on the Isle of Crete? Call in a favor with your old man. When he's done throwing lightning for no reason, maybe he can have Hermes run your ass a pair of scissors.
Anyway, this match was originally SUPPOSED to be Steamboat vs. BRET HART, but that was scrapped in favor of THIS. Holy shit. That'd be like somehow booking the Rolling Stones for a gig, then telling them, "never mind, we got one of the assholes from Kid & Play, instead". Dear god. In any event, Ricky Steamboat proceeds to do what he does best: ARM DRAG. And of course arm drag. Why not? It seemed to work on all those Ninjas on Saturday Night's Main Event. Clearly, the Samurai's needed more body-presses and armdrags and less SWORDPLAY. I'm telling you.
Anyway, Herc presslams Dragon, and holy shit, he better, he is Hercules after all...with a jewfro, but hey, I'm not nitpicking. Herc then goes up, and misses a splash when Steamer brings his knees up. Fucking Hercules doesn't fly, dumbshit. Who'd need strength if you could fuck off on out of there? Anyway, Steamboat then goes up top himself and puts Herc away with the flying bodypress. Let me get this straight, Hercules can perform the 12 feats & labors but not catch one flying Hawaiian? Holy shit. Time to hand in your Leather lederhosen there, Herc, and go back to Tampa err Greece and call it a night.
Adrian Adonis vs. Uncle Elmer
This was totally throw away match. Good luck throwing either one of these guys, though. Uncle Elmer was of course a Hillbilly, and kin as it were to one Hillbilly Jim. Why, when he's not around his family, he can't be just called "Elmer" is beyond me. It reminds me of the time Vince called Shelton Benjamin's Mama, umm, "Mama". As for Adonis, the last time he was seen on pay-per-view, he was still heterosexual, despite wearing the same gay little leather outfit that dude from the Village People wears. The urban legend was that Vince was so angry that Adonis' weight had ballooned so much, that he made him gay as a result. You gotta love wrestling. It's the only place in the world--other than prison-- where someone CAN FORCE YOU to become a homosexual.
Anyway, this match is brutal, not that poor Adonis, who was tremendously underrated, didn't try to bump for Elmer. It's just, at this stage, there's fucking sequoias out in the woods with more mobility than Elmer. And charisma. Elmer eventually misses a leg drop, allowing Adrian to go up top, and finish with one big hurdling ball of gayness. Not that Elmer minds, I'm sure. I've seen Deliverance a few times. Those boys get funny when there be no women-folk around.
Winner: Adrian Adonis.
Terry & HOSS Funk vs. Junkyard Dog and Tito Santana.
Hey, somebody needs to get JYD some lower calorie Pedigree Pal, stat. He looks like he's ready to give birth to a litter here. Anyway, this is the big blow-off in the feud between Terry Funk & JYD. Hoss is of course Terry's brother, Dory, after WWF ran him through the silly rolodex of insulting stereotyped names. Although, knowing Vince, and how many decades he's fucking behind in Pop Culture, he probably named him after one of the brothers on Bonanza. Remember, this is a company that had a character named BEAVER CLEAVAGE. I can just picture Vince trying to book a musical act for this year's Wrestlemania: " Someone get me those Monkees that are so popular with the kids these days!".
Anyway, JYD & Tito control much of the tempo here with Terry bumping all over the place. Eventually, Dory comes in but gets hit with Tito's flying forearm. I imagine this is how Tito got into America in the first place. He laid out INS agent with the flying forearm and sunset-flipped right over the other one, than just kept running. You'll notice that EVERY Mexican wrestler in the U.S. is a high flyer. THIS IS HOW THEY GOT HERE. I promise you.
The Funks soon rally and alienate Tito. They tell him that his mother never loved him, he has no friends, and the person he thinks is his father actually isn't. Or maybe they just cut him off from making the tag. I like my version better.  Eventually, Tito makes the caliente tag to JYD who comes in a house of fire. Or maybe a mansion of fire in honor of his extra poundage. However, JYD makes the mistake of going after Jimmy Hart on the apron, perhaps to once again pants him, but Terry retrieves Hart's megaphone, knocks out Dog, and gets the pin. Just goes to show you, no good has EVER came from trying to tear another man's pants off. Except maybe cigarettes in Prison. Or a WWE Title reign in mid 2004.
Hulk Hogan vs. King Kong Bundy: STEEL CAGE MATCH for WWF Championship.
Your guest announcer is Tommy Lasorda, and your guest referee, AKA, THE DUDE THAT OPENS AND CLOSES THE CAGE DOOR LIKE 3 TIMES, TOPS, is William Conrad of Wild Wild West fame, and money well spent, clearly. If it wasn't for him, how'd the wrestlers ever figure out that complicated little latch? It'd be anarchy. And, finally, your time-keeper is Ricky Schroeder. Seriously. They paid thousands of dollars to a celeb to hold a stopwatch for like 7 minutes. Who even cares about the time? What's even the point? Oh no, People won't ever stop wrestling! The shows will run 24 straight hours! Come on. Considering a good portion of people paid 30 bucks(?) for a bunch of fucking 3 minute matches in a row, I'm thinking this douchebag should be as discreet as possible. Ya, let's keep a running tally of how much of my 3 hours you've fucking wasted.
Just so you know, this was the WWF TV debut of the BIG BLUE CAGE~!, that replaced the cyclone-fenced one, only to be quietly replaced again by said cyclone-fence in 1998. The reason for its creation? EASY. By creating spaces between the bars the size of fucking pizza boxes, Hulk could easily fit his big yellow clodhoppers in the holes, without the worry of actually having to expend any real energy, bruther. Plus, it made it much easier for the cameras and the audience to see those inevitable bodyslams, dude.
As a result of a brutal attack by Bundy a month earlier on Saturday Night's Main Event, Hogan has his ribs taped up here. Huh. Why not just paint a big bull's-eye on your radiated orange middle there, Hulk? The funny thing is, from about 1986-90, if you were big, fat, and evil, chances are you'd eventually flop your giant heaving body on top of the Hulkster a few times and break his ribs. Hogan was ALWAYS breaking his ribs and suffering internal injuries at this point in his life...then of course, returning to action like 3 weeks later. Which just goes to show you what I've ALWAYS known, if you've been grievously injured, burned or maimed, your best bet is to BE A WRESTLER, because this stuff never sticks here. Not ever. Well, unless it's a quad tear. That shit is like taking an arrow to the heel.
Bundy immediately goes after Hulk's ribs and starts to unwrap him. It definitely lacks the base sensuality of Joseph Feinnes gingerly unwrapping Gwyneth Paltrow in Shakespeare in Love. That, and with more thunderous big splashes. Or any. Bundy then uses the tape to by god choke the life out of Hulk. Now, why he wouldn't, just, I don't know, punch him in his exposed, broken ribs, is beyond me. That'd be like somehow taking the fucking cast off Bob Orton, then applying a side-headlock. Bundy eventually switches gears (he has two: elbow drop, and splash) and begins PUNISHING Hogan's ribs. He tells them that they're going to their room, with NO supper, and can't come out until they clean up the mess they've made. That Bundy is all about discipline, I'm telling you.
Eventually, Bundy makes the mistake of avalanching Hogan--the move that broke the ribs in the first place-- but Hogan's all like "no way, bruther". And goes back on offense. I've never understood why Hulk always waits until the absolute most painful shit before deciding "Fuck it, dude, I'm not selling anymore". If you have this ability ALL ALONG, why not just fucking use it after the first move? Hell, he even lets people full on punch him in the face TWICE before he even thinks of trying to block. This is why I LOVE wrestling. Seriously. It's the only place in the world where the seriously maimed can suddenly spring back to life like nothing's happened. Seriously. Go to the Emergency Room sometime and punch someone right in their diseased pancreas, I guarantee you they won't start quivering and then point a menacing finger in your direction. They'll just spit up a bit, go into shock and die. Trust me. The police never bought my Hulkamania defense.
Anyway, Hogan then ends up POWER-SLAMMING Bundy(~!) off a missed Avalanche follow-up. Holy shit, Hulk must be feeling spry, he's varied his offense and that NEVER happens, bruther. Hogan then drops the leg, and begins climbing the cage, because going through the door is absurd, dude. Bundy, then comes back to life, and tries to grab Hulk's orange leg, bruther, but gets kicked off, and plummets to the mat. I never understood why announcers never equated this to the actual death of King Kong, since, to me, the parallels always seemed there. Well, once you discount the fact that Bundy looked more like giant baby with his all-over Brazilian he was rocking here, and less like an Ape. I couldn't have been the only one that wanted Bobby to give the King Kong eulogy at the end. T'wasn't the Fall that killed the beast. It was that big orange dude there with the bald head no one's ever supposed to mention." They may have changed it a bit since 1933. Oh, ya, Hogan wins. He then beats the shit out of Bobby Heenan after the match to close the show, bruther. That's the 5th commandment, dude. Kick the hell out of people smaller than you. It's probably the only one I did obey...
FINAL THOUGHTS: This was a total two match show, even though I have always liked the Cage match. Hogan was always magic there. Seriously. One minute he's kicking you in the face, and the next he's pulling a never-ending red & yellow ribbon from his trunks, then bang, holy shit, there's a rabbit. It's quite amazing. And bullshit. But hey, whatever. Fact is, Wrestlemania hadn't found its niche yet. At this point, it was just basically a televised random wrestling card. Most of the matches were make-shift and meant nothing. However, at this stage, wrestling was NOT over-exposed, and we were just happy to have whatever scraps we got. We were kind of like Ethiopians eating someone's fucking bread crusts. We're just happy to be digesting anything besides our own vital internal organs. And today? Well, were all fat and greedy. That's Wrestlemania. I think.
Thumbs Up for Nostalgia. Thumbs Down for the Wrestling. Jazz Hands 'cause I feel like dancin'! Look at me go!

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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, Wrestlecrap, 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.).