Saturday, March 31, 2007

Stakes Is High

Hey gang, Wrestlemania 23 is tomorrow! Meh, you say? No whining, Facebuster staff- wrestling fans worldwide will be awaiting a dismissive recap with baited breath. To ease the burden of our journalistic obligations, Pencil Neck Geek hereby pledges a half rack of Rainier* to whoever posts the most correct predictions in our comments section.
Be warned that you will want to make your selections with utmost care. The participant with the fewest correct picks will be required to read (or at least flip through on the crapper) Joanie "Chyna" Laurer's "If They Only Knew" and write a review here on Arabian Facebuster. I know this seems harsh, but that Kane vs. Khali match ain't getting any more interesting on its own...
* In an effort to curb the alcohol poisoning epidemic currently sweeping the Facebuster community, Camo Black Ice has been replaced as the Official Prize Beer of Wrestlemania.

Friday, March 30, 2007

Yr Belated Old Skool Foto of the Week

Wrestlemania III, The Silverdome Pontiac, MI, March 1987.

What I Learned in Portland

My sincerest apologies to the Arabian Facebuster Nation for the lack of substantive posts in recent weeks. While a picture of "Playboy" Buddy Rose might be enough to placate this svelte athlete's former tag team partner and avid reader of the Facebuster, Doug "Pretty Boy" Summers (Doug, shoot me a PM about your clandestine yet hopefully lucrative business adventures in the cartel controlled territories of Colombia), most of you crave more...more flippant and increasingly unhinged commentary and old-skool content from Malibu Sands...more provocative insight and analysis of all things WSX and TNA from Apollo Spas...more cautionary tales on immoderation coupled with spiritual guidance and revelations from Rev. Von Fury...and more riveting and hilarious Friday Night Smackdown! fodder from Pencil Neck Geek.

Again, I am sorry for the scarcity of March content. However, it was an incredibly busy month. As many of you know, we held our inaugural Arabian Facebuster Staff Conference. A big shout out to the Portland Doubletree Hotel & Executive Meeting Center for the posh accommodations and well appointed meeting room (the Cascade Ballroom, pictured at left, served as the Facebuster's spacious war room). Even at the apex of his despotic rule, Saddam Hussein never had it this good. And oh the service! Why they must have replenished our buffet items and beverage station every ninety minutes. In my mind, their attention to detail, team oriented approach to guest relations, and commitment to excellence are both unprecedented and unparalleled in the increasingly homogeneous and indifferent corporate hospitality industry. I think I speak for all of the Arabian Facebuster staff in declaring that we will be returning to the Doubletree next year to enjoy their not unreasonable meeting room rates, high-speed WI-FI, flaky breakfast pastries, buxom catering staff, palatial urinals, and complimentary valet parking.

The good times had at the Arabian Facebuster Staff Conference will not soon be forgotten. We laughed. We cried. We prayed. We styled and profiled. We drank lots of Iron City (except for the snooty microbrew quaffing Rev. Von Fury). We appreciatively watched a shitload of professional wrestling, including TNA's March PPV "Destination X." We split a 24oz can of Camo Black Ice.

Most significantly, I learned more about my Arabian Facebuster brethren and pro wrestling, not to mention myself, than I ever thought possible over an alcohol filled weekend retreat. I learned that delivering a plastic candle opera shot to someone's head will cause them to gush buckets upon buckets of beautiful blood. I became aware that prolonged steroid use precludes you from drawing nary a drop of crimson, even after gashing your forehead with a razor blade. I found out the hard way that scaffold matches, no matter what gimmicky name they are given, are tedious at best, self-mutilation provoking at worst. I discovered that in order to look and sound like the spittin' image of Don "Wild Wild" West, all I have to do is incorporate two packs of cigarettes, a box of Hostess chocolate frosted mini-doughnuts, and a pint of value priced scotch into my daily nutritional regimen, along with a sense of apprehension towards any physical exertion whatsoever. I learned that Kathy Lee Crosby is the most astute and erudite analyst of professional wrestling, ever. Sorry, I meant Susan St. James. I realized that the only thing more ashen than Velvet McIntyre's elfin breasts are the delegates who attend the Republican National Convention. Lastly, I learned that Camo Black Ice is, without question, the most thirst quenching elixir on the market today.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Not With A Bang, But With A Simper...

First of all, countless apologies for my gross dereliction of blogging duty. Yes, it's been weeks since my last post, but I've only just emerged from the alcoholic coma I fell into during the First Annual Arabian Facebuster Staff Conference. Goddamn that Camo Black Ice.

Having wiped the crust from my eyes, I find that the high-strung youngsters over at Wrestling Society X are in grave danger of cancellation. The final five episodes (!) of their schmozz-tastic product were aired in one two-and-a-half-hour(!!) death spasm, no doubt inducing epileptic fits in all seven WSX viewers. As it stands now, the WSX massive are waiting, hats in hands, for a last minute reprieve from the overseers at MTV. Check the blog at their Myspace Account for your daily fix of schadenfreude. I love that they're being cancelled in order to"strategize the best way to bring the show back to the fans". Get it? They're being fired so they can do their jobs better. For free. In Fabian Kaelin's mom's basement.

Ah, well. Maybe now I can live my dream of hiring Teddy Hart to do shooting star presses off the shed in my back yard. That should keep those damn transients from breaking into my basement.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Friday, March 09, 2007

Wrestlers On Dope Follow-Up Post

Oh, and Sports Illustrated's cover story this month is about a "Wellness Clinic" that was apparently supplying hundreds (thousands?) of athletes with steroids. Your Olympic Hero Kurt Angle turned up in the clinic's database. It seems that during 2004 and 2005, Angle received a smattering of "enhancements" from these cats.

In other shocking news, water was recently found to be wet.

Stay Off The Yay

Let this shit be a lesson to you punk kids.

The toxicology reports on Bam Bam Bigelow finally came out, and the cause of death is being listed as "toxic levels of cocaine" as well as antianxiety drugs (read: Xanax) and narrow arteries.

I hope this can be of some benefit to the gentlemen at the table next to me at the Twilight Room the other night. I have no idea what heart conditions those fellows may or may not have had, but they sure seemed anxious and they wouldn't shut up about all the blow they were going to do.

Monday, March 05, 2007

Yr Portland Related Foto of the Week

"Playboy" Buddy Rose. All 217lbs of him.

Friday, March 02, 2007


Above is Youtube footage of the second half of WSX Episode 4. Gentle readers, I must caution you: do NOT watch the entire clip. It contains spinny-flippy comedy garbage wrestling jackassery of the lowest order. I post this only to highlight three key moments.

At approximately three minutes fifteen seconds, Guest Announcers The Clipse display the virulent streak of homophobia that plagues modern hip-hop. Also, they may be "high".

At the five minute mark, there is a genuinely impressive ladder spot, followed by the "Quizno's Slamwich" replay of said spot.

Finally, at nine minutes thirty, some demonic South-of-the-Border Boogeyman knock-off uses his amazing video toaster powers to destroy WSX Champ Vampiro.

If you truly are a glutton for punishment, you can slave through the whole clip. You'll witness announcer Fabian Kaelin reaching a new low in despicable bellowing, The Clipse calling Michael "Disco Machine" Mondragon "Ass Tassle", and 6-Pac wearing a shirt that says "Protect Your Elf From Hollywood." Other than that, the three segments above really tell you all you need to know about this incoherent disaster.