YES. I am back once again with another heaping spoonful of your favorite hot breakfast. But, before we get down to "Bidness" as Dusty Rhodes would say, whilst likely driving through the completely legitimate Pay Winda, let me first fill you in on what you can expect from my column from this point forward:  NOTHING. It's true. Basically, for now, it will just consist of point form opinions, random buffoonery, and chalked full of  jokes that probably amuse me more than anyone else. I mean, if you truly wanted insightful, deep, meaningful writing, I suggest you click on someone else’s column. Because here's a revelation: I am extremely lazy. However, if you like Pat Patterson innuendos and jokes about people shitting in Sable's gym bag, you've come to the right place my friend.  Really. They don't call me the most trusted and reliable journalist in the IWC for... anything? Ya.

So, everyone join me as we jump headfirst into the empty pool that is Pro Wrestling:

But first, before we get into the Rasslin', let me first say that I am hooked on a new show on SpikeTV. Let it be said that nothing on the former "shuckin' and grinnin' network has EVER grabbed my attention before. And as much as I want to see Bobby Bacula play cards and talk about movies for 2 hours, or watch a 35 minute ad for a Conway fucking Twitty album from 1972, I have *finally* found a show on this network that doesn't make me want to take my obscenely gigantic over-priced remote that's the size of a novelty chocolate bar, and bat myself to death with it. Only pausing briefly to change the batteries that die every 24 hours.

Don't get me wrong, I deplore reality Television; but there's just something about the every-man Joe, that is hard to not be captivated by. Well, that, and I want to have "sexual intercourse" as the kids are saying these days with this Molly character. The only other reality show I watched on a semi-regular basis was Tough Enough; but that was more for seeing, for the most part, washed up, or in some cases never-was's verbally accosting clean-cut good looking people. I'm silly like that.

I also derived pleasure from the fact that after hearing for YEARS, JR making light of people who said "But they know how to fall!..", that there was NOW A SHOW, that get this, actually showed *gulp* PEOPLE LEARNING HOW TO FALL. Imagine that. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that once Jim Ross caught wind of  this, he furiously went home and took his frustrations out on a government mule. I mean, you'd think after how often he's mentioned them, he'd just HAVE to get one of his very own, right? How nice for him. Our government has yet to give us our designated livestock in which we can physically abuse. What a gyp. I'm still waiting for my scalded dog, too. Why is JR the only one allowed to verbally and physically accost animals? It's not fair.

Anyhoo, after giving Joe Schmo the old 'how's your father', I thought it'd only be fair that I give another new show, The Mullets the same consideration. How stupid could I be? (very, apparently). The show is obviously intelligence insulting to anyone with umm, intelligence? Sounds about right. And it's funny that WWE would ever attach its stamp o' approval on this steaming nugget. But hey, considering how they write their show, it actually doesn't surprise me. It was after-all, one ridiculous wrestling cliché after the other, right down to the "not knowing it's not real" stereotype that we all have had to hear for years from parents and friends alike. Ya, let's perpetuate that stereotype some more. Hey, why don't we just finish the circle, and film a fat guy in a tattered 1998 nWo shirt with his billowing gut hanging out, typing feverishly on the Internet as to why HBK/Jericho was only 3 1/4* as opposed to 4, all while getting pissed off when his Mom has the by god audacity to come through his "apartment" on route to her laundry room in the basement? Let's hammer it all home. For the record, I HATE IT when Mom does that. RESPECT MY BOUNDARIES!

For the record, though, as far as "mullets" and wrestling fans being synonymous, there is probably way more wrestlers out there with mullets than wrestling fans. It's true. I mean, take Ricky Morton. No, I mean, seriously. Take him. Hide him somewhere. Or pin him down and give him a haircut. Jesus Christ.

That said, the show itself was, well, let's just say it was about as funny as being on the receiving end of a vasectomy by a doctor with a medical degree from Trinidad. You see, because people from Trinidad get Medical degrees quite easily and thus it'd be bad to have an untrained foreigner using sharp tools on your testicles. Umm, ya. See, I should write for this show! Ahem.

Seriously though,  the only people who would find shit like this remotely humorous are people with two first names, who own a mobile home, yet 3 cars that aren't, or the guys who laughed when you dropped your books in High School. And sure, I laughed at you doing that, too, but it was because you were a loser. Wait, what was my point again? Never mind.

So, with that all said: Fuck you, Mullets, watch Joe Schmo, and oh ya, stop reading my openers. They do no one any good.

ONTO THE RANDOM WRESTLING DIARRHEA!

THERE'S STUFF HAPPENING IN WRESTLING. LET'S MAKE FUN OF IT.

-After the one cent pay-per-view hook from the previous week, I decided to climb back on the TNA horse (which gets treated better than JR's mule, at least) for one more ride and see what happens. Well, what "happened" was Shane Douglas puking (and without Papa Shango even putting a curse on him no less! ), and Raven getting a blood-soaked haircut in probably not the best advertisement for Super Cuts I've ever seen. Remind me to never go get my hair cut at a place that fucking DDT's you first into unconsciousness. Although, at least that'd save you he annoyance of having to have that bitch constantly grabbing your head and forcing it downward. Now I know how my exes must have felt! It ain't gonna suck itself! I'm pure class, ladies. And I'm single.

Anyway, the one thing that did catch my attention though, was the interview with one Roddy Piper, who came out and cut maybe the most unintelligible promo of his career. And that's saying something. He basically said that his kids found out at school that he's a drug addict. As if the tourniquet tied around his bagpipes never tipped them off. The funny thing of course is that it was Roddy himself who admitted this on National TV originally. It was actually never mentioned by the WWE once (despite Piper alluding to it), even though quite frankly, it was pretty obvious. (I could of sworn I remember seeing a bottle of Beam shoot out of Hot Rod's mouth when Eddie frog splashed him a few months ago). So, if anything, the only person Piper can blame for his children realizing the powder on Daddy's nose wasn't from Krispy Kreme Donuts, is the man looking back at him in the mirror. (well, what's left it it. After all, you need something to cut coke those lines on!).

-I like that WWE has come up with a *COMPLETELY ORIGINAL* gimmick for Shaniqua. Imagine if a woman who is big and intimidating could get over  just by wrestling and manhandling men? What a novel concept! This just in: WWE to change Shaniqua's name to Afryka .

-Speaking of Joanie "Chyna" Laurer, it's good to know that her charges against perennial HHH sloppy seconds taker Sean Waltman for assault have now been dropped. YAY! Although, it is kind of hard to believe that after being programmed to think Chyna could take any man that she had trouble with fucking X Pac. I mean, I've seen women's shelters. How many of those women have held the obscenely prestigious Intercontinental Title? hmmmm? Exactly. One question though: Why didn't Chyna just do that really cool handspring back flip to avoid the punches? That shit has to work in real life!

-Ever wonder what Vince McMahon jerks off to? Not really. But you have to admit,  there is one constant that may in fact be a strange fetish of his: Every time WWE has booked anything remotely sexually provocative on WWE Television, a big ugly man always seems to intervene and squash the women. Maybe Vince gets off on it? The only positive I can see coming from it is if the Hoss in question splashes the woman with such veracity and impact, that somehow, the sheer trajectory and centrifugal force would cause all her clothes to explode from her body. I even worked out a rough schematic and chart to show how it would be scientifically possible, but I think I may have used it when I ran out of zig zags. It was something, though. Trust me.

Anyway, speaking of Vince and his sexual  perversions, if you watched the build to No Mercy, you'd have seen that Vince apparently wants to make it with his own daughter, Stephanie, as his comments on the show, although thinly veiled, suggested. Another Taboo brought to life by the good folks at WWE! All is left is for someone to fuck a dead body! Oh wait. But that said, I can't say I really blame the guy. I mean, he did pay for most of her equipment. He just wants to make sure he got his money's worth, that's all! It's just consumer interest! Stop looking at me like that!

- You know, they should really be pushing A-Train. Off a cliff. I don't get it with this guy. I'm sure he's a real nice guy and all, but how many chances do you have to get over? What is this, chance number 3052?  I know WWE sometimes likes to throw shit against the wall and see if it sticks, but there just comes a time when you just have to clean up all that shit 'cause you're making a big fucking mess.  But that said, where the fuck did that saying ever even come from? Who throws shit against a wall, and then is inspired to create great ideas if it somehow suctions itself to a wall? That's insanity! Or maybe I'm just bitter because I literally did that for the last 3 months and just found out today it was only a euphemism. Maybe.

-It's nice to see Dawn Marie and Torrie Wilson getting along! Yes sir. It's kind of cool how murdering someone's Father just doesn't seem to hold the same weight as it used to. Bygones are bygones, I guess. I mean, who could really ever hold a grudge against someone who fucked your dad to death on camera in front of millions of people, then attacked you during his funeral and tipped the casket over causing the corpse to come flying out?  I mean, especially when you need a tag team partner for a big Thursday night match! That cancels out murder. ALWAYS. WRESTLING= FORGIVENESS. Unless your last name is Savage. (don't even think about coming here, Fred!).

But, that said, R.I.P., Al. You at least went out on your back.  You know, unlike your daughter, who last time I checked, NEVER LOSES MATCHES. She's like the female Hulk Hogan. Only she keeps her shirt on. Boo. But still, here's to you, Al. Your memory will live on for... far too long ? Ya. Most notably for the most terrifying visual in TV history. Standing in your underwear during your marriage ceremony, harder than the tree that killed Sonny Bono. (or maybe early rigor mortis was just setting in early? Maybe?). That was one for the ages. I mean, who said erect octogenarian wood on TV isn't what the 18-35 male demographic wants to see? Oh ya, that's right, everybody.

-It's nice to see Brock Lesnar get the WWE Title back. And all he had to do was physically assault a crippled person to get the opportunity.  To put this theory to rest, just the other day, I put the boots to someone with Down's Syndrome... and I still haven't gotten a break! What gives? Where's my belt? Did I do it wrong?

- Guess what, I did end up ordering Unforgiven after all, and I was pleasantly surprised to see The H's actually put over Goldberg completely clean. HHH also made it through the match relatively unscathed, thanks probably to his very special clam diggers that house the injured Steph Hammer, likely keeping it safe for the wedding night to Steph wherein it will be released upon the loins of Ms. McMahon like the mythical Cracken of Greek mythology. It will only briefly pause to pin other penises not ready for the main event scene. On that day, Jesus will break the seventh seal and the moon will turn to blood.  And I of course will probably just sleep through the whole ordeal. Wake me up when the six-headed dragon gets here.

-The Dudleys took the Tag-team belts from the Green Frogs and Rob Conway at Unforgiven as well. Hey, have you ever noticed that Conway looks like a very angry Gary Senise? Although, I guess Lt. Dan had just cause for his anger, having no legs and being trapped on a shrimping boat and all. But hey, I don't want to give WWE any bright ideas. The last thing they need is a useless wrestler with lame legs. Well, you know, besides Kevin Nash.

-It turns out Sylvan Grenier is off to rehab his "neck" after all. Yes neck . And not "ass" as I had originally guessed. That's their story, and their sticking to it, like a pretty boy with 6 months wrestling experience sticks it to 65 year old booker to get a Tag Title run when he's not ready, or qualified, or over. Yes, that's a real expression. Oh well. I'll take Sylvan at face value for now. Even if, in his case, he's usually faced in the opposite direction. I guess we'll get our TRUE answers eventually, if he returns to the ring with a hemorrhoid cushion sewn into the back of his tights. Time will tell.

Okay, that's it for this week, I'm off to work on my Tan. Tan of course being the 14 year old Cambodian boy I keep as an unpaid slave. Sometimes he needs discipline. What can I say. 

*But first*, a very special memoriam to a lost friend who was cut down in the prime of their lives recently:

With all the deaths lately in Hollywood and the mainstream, I thought I'd take a moment to remember a forgotten fallen hero. In my life, there was always several constants: The air I breathed, the sun rising and setting, and the beloved mop of Kevin Nash. It came from humble beginnings. A time where a dude could wear Acid Wash jeans and a really cool rhinestone bedazzled jean jacket and no one would look at him funny. Ok, they would. But not for long, because he was all tall and stuff, and wore a single black glove on a fist that could knock you out with ONE PUNCH. Well, until the office figured out that was like the worst fucking finish ever and forgot all about it. Anyway, it was originally birthed in 1993, from a Gresion-5 tinted mullet, and through time, it grew into a beautiful long flowing mane... that eventually allowed me to love again . Ok that last part was for dramatic effect. Anyway, it's sudden demise came as both a shock and sadness to me. You're always sad to see the young ones go. And Nash mop had not even reached 11 years of age before it was yanked from this world with its then-bright neon yellow fragments disposed of so callously. You never get over something like that. It had so much promise. Imagine how many more corners it could have been casually standing around in whilst other people did all the work. It's tragic.

So let us all take a moment to remember the hair of Kevin Nash and all it meant to our lives.

But worry not my friends, and grieve only briefly, for much like the Phoenix (the mythological bird, not Arizona, for which the mop made its home for many a year), it will no doubt rise from the ashes and grace our lives once again with its glorious flowing splendor! Until then, though, God Speed, Gentle Friend.