Why We Watch...Exhibit E

Here at Arabian Facebuster, we are committed to exposing you to the very best that professional wrestling has to offer. And the very worst. This clip -- featuring the agitated, inflammatory, possibly offensive (assuming you are easily outraged by an unrelenting contempt towards fat, ugly broads), and downright hilarious ramblings of "Captain Redneck" Dick Murdoch -- falls squarely into the former category.

Based on Murdoch's nickname and "barroom brawler" physical stature, you would think that his promos would consist of rudimentary syntax, logical fallacies, and plenty of grunting delivered in a thick, practically indecipherable southern drawl with glaringly limited emotional range. Instead what Murdoch delivers is a cohesive, articulate, urgent, credible, and above all prototypical heel promo that features (a) the introduction of epithets like "scum belt," "mongoloid," and "Fat Albert" into the professional wrestling lexicon; (b) the use of a broom as both a prop and a rich metaphorical device; (c) an invective of ridiculing, vile, degrading remarks hurled towards the studio audience that would make the great Don Rickles proud; and (d) emotional breadth, depth, and versatility that allows Murdoch to incorporate fearlessness, seething rage, agitation, arrogance, contempt, begrudging respect, and even a hint of giddiness over the course of a single, 2 1/2 minute promo.

Enjoy.

Ric Flair: Really Busy Man

Despite an ongoing contractual dispute (or if the rumors on the internets are to be believed, replace "ongoing contractual dispute" with "quit the company") with the WWE that has necessitated his (glaring) absence from the Friday night ratings juggernaut and critical darling that is Smackdown!, "Nature Boy" Ric Flair isn't sulking around the house, waiting patiently for a phone call by a contrite Vince McMahon begging him to come back, and blithely sleeping his mornings away on Apollo's Costco Camping Mats.

Far from it.

Last week, Naitch not only opened the virtual doors to his very own financial services enterprise [insert topical and hilarious joke referencing Flair owing $1M in back taxes to the IRS here] that'll slap the old figure four lock on those evasive lenders, he also delivered the command to go NASCAR Busch Series racin' at Dover Speedway in seemingly the most embarrassingly self-parodied manner possible.

What then does next week hold in store for the former sixteen time world heavyweight wrestling champion? On Monday, he'll be the keynote speaker at the Winston Salem Warthogs end of the season formal awards banquet and fan conclave. Tuesday, he'll be cutting the ribbon to proclaim the new Sonic in Hickory, NC "open." And picking up his dry cleaning.

Woooooo! Indeed.

Yr "Blood, Sweat and Tears" Foto of the Week

Seemingly panting for air, a winded "The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes applies a rest hold on the lacerated NWA World Heavyweight Wrestling Champion "Nature Boy" Ric Flair.

Diva Search Prognostication 2007!

War can be a brutal experience that tries the souls of the strongest men. So it is that we here at the Arabian Facebuster Command Bunker seek spiritual solace in whatever paltry shreds of levity cross our paths. In particular, the boys in the trenches have taken a keen (and possibly unhealthy) interest in the outcome of this year's WWE Diva Search.

We were keenly disappointed to see the young lady at the top of the post (whose name is... Lynnsie? Kynnsie? Leynsie? Some goddamn thing.) receive her walking papers, as we thought she had all the qualities needed to make a truly top-tier WWE Diva. To wit:

As you can see, she was an early favorite. Alas, even our patented Facebuster Prognostication Methods can fail in the face of current market realities. Regardless, we urge our readers to keep the flame of hope a'burning. The fellows down at the OTB have assured us that they are still accepting wagers, so there is still time to roll your bet over to THIS lovely (and talented) young lady and recoup your losses:

Facebuster Nation, I give you Jessica Hatch. She attended Galveston Junior College on a Volleyball Scholarship (of course), is majoring in Kinesiology (which she can spell), and works at "fit gym" in River Oaks, where she hopes to someday build a large "clinetal" (it appears she had some help with "Kinesiology"). She is super talented (and lovely), is a big fan of Jesus Christ, and has that special something that all great WWE Divas possess:

If Jessica doesn't seem like a winner to you, don't panic, 'cos I have got a grade-a pure gold lead-pipe CINCH of a Diva for you. The drum roll really should have started three paragraphs ago, because that's how excited we are about this next hot young (lovely, talented) prospect:

Awww, yeeeaahhh. Eve Torres, ladies and gentlemen! Now THAT is a Diva-to-be! Eve is an LA-based actress/model/dancer. Wow! A triple slashie! She's lovely, talented, and is currently working as a "spirit dancer" for the LA Clippers, but hopefully that will clear up real soon. She is a strong advocate for women of color pursuing higher education (just look what it's done for her!), and her many fan web sites tout her "unique look". I know, right, tell me about it:

There they are, fans. The Arabian Facebuster picks for Diva Search 2007. I'm sure the entire staff joins me in wishing one of these ladies all the best in her dazzling new career. Hopefully she will enjoy all the stunning perks of Diva-dom, such as shaking her tits before ECW dark matches and having her gym bag crapped in by Randy Orton.

Thank you and goodnight.

Why We Watch...Exhibit D

We watch wrestling to observe gentlemen like Ric Flair, Stan Hansen, and Abdullah the Butcher apply their craft. Conversely, we also watch wrestling to witness ostracized malcontents like the Dingo/Ultimate Warrior (back in the days before he was ostracized and malcontented) make a complete jackass of himself (in this case, more so than usual) by hawking poorly made yet attractively priced East/Central European automobiles on behalf of a suburban Dallas used car huckster with a penchant for sporting neon framed, jumbo sized novelty sunglasses and offering egalitarian transportation for not an unreasonable monthly disbursement.

The host of this clip has disabled embedding. So click here and take a gander.

What Was Your Favorite...

Monty Brown (Or should I say "The Alpha Male" Marquis CorVon) in the WWE moment? His dominating victory over Tommy Dreamer before the formation of the New Breed faction? Or his dominating victory over Tommy Dreamer after the formation of the New Breed faction?

What does the sports entertainment future hold in store for Monty? A begrudging return to the TNA for another protracted feud with the aimless Rhino, along with the inevitable inclusion in the whole Pac-Man Jones/Ron "The Truth" Killings discomfiture? Towel boy for the Buffalo Bills? Teaching aspiring grapplers how to arbitrarily name drop the Serengeti in every single one of their promos? Trailblazing across this majestic land of ours a la Lewis & Clark in search of the finest in buffet cuisine with the underemployed "Big T" Tony Norris?

Thank you Monty, for providing the readers of Arabian Facebuster over the years with countless hours seventeen minutes of thrills, chills, and spills. Good night...and good luck.

Yr Belated "Slick Ric" Foto of the Week

Ric Flair (with cup o' scotch) and Barry Windham model the latest fashions from the Bugle Boy for Men collection.

RAW is War is Hell

Exit, stage left?

There have been recent comments circulating in the liberal Jew-run media disparaging this administration's wartime strategy. To wit, they allege that we haven't got a wartime strategy. These bleeding-heart left-wing communist-backed Mafia Mind Control Frankensteins sit in their depraved homosexual opium dens and sneer, "Apollo, you guys said you were at war with the WWE and TNA, but all you've done is sit on the fender of a Jeep with no steering wheel, drinking Iron City and writing drafts for posts like The Eliminators: Gay Tag Team or Gayest Tag Team? and watching old GLOW tapes as 'research'. What kind of war are you fighting, anyway?"

Listen, you mealy-mouthed punks. I didn't spend ten years in a Viet Cong prison camp so you could talk shit about America. No, seriously, I didn't. But I DID spend ten minutes scrolling through the latest wrestling gossip, and lemme tell ya... whatever we're doing, it's working. In the last two weeks, the double double E has suspended at least ten of its wrestlers, fired perennial time-wasters Eugene and Cryme Tyme, and (this is the crucial part) possibly lost the services of both the legendary Ric Flair and the insanely entertaining King Booker.

Now, by all reports, Flair is too far in debt to both the IRS and his ex-wife to seriously consider getting out of the wrasslin' game (although I have a couple of Costco Camping Mats that Flair can crash on, if he needs to. For real. They're the Cadillac of portable sleep accessories.), but King Booker is another story. Wealthy, erudite, and possessed of his Own Goddamn Wrestling Federation, King Bookah looks set to walk. This, obviously, deals a pretty serious blow to th' WWE talent pool, which is already heavily depleted by injuries (hi, Undertaker!) and drug suspensions (hi, Edge, William Regal, Umaga, Mr. Kennedy, Randy Orton, John Morrison, Sho Funaki [!], and numerous others!). Soon, our war of attrition will have taken the ultimate toll on the WWE. That's right. They'll be forced to put Teddy Hart back on national TV.

And then, ladies and gentlemen, the whole world wins.

As for TNA, they might not be willing to shell out the loot to keep Kevin Nash around. Good luck filling your new two hour slot, you fucking chuckleheads. Cheers for sacking Test, though. That's the kind of creative firing that might get you off the war list.

So let's hear no more of this defeatist pinko crap. We're Arabian Facebuster, the Greatest Wrestling Website Of All Time. And we're fucking winning.

Yr "Sixty Minute Man" Foto of the Week

Ricky Steamboat and Ric Flair battle for the NWA Heavyweight Title. Steamboat would go on to defeat Flair for the belt. Chicago, IL. February, 1989.

Chris Benoit's Brain

The readers of Arabian Facebuster may have already heard, but the folks at the Sports Legacy Institute have conducted a post-mortem study on Chris Benoit's Brain. The results are... I don't know. Mollifying?

The STI has concluded that Benoit was suffering from a syndrome called CTE, or Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. The layman's version ('cause that's all I can give you) is that repeated blows to the head (such as those sustained by doing flying headbutts every damn night) cause lasting damage to the brain, resulting in depression, dementia, and erratic behavior. It is the STI's position that this syndrome may have contributed to the destruction of the Benoit Family.

Can it be said, then, that Benoit's injuries made him deranged, and he was therefore not responsible for his actions? Is this another indictment of the grim backstage reality of pro wrestling, where serious injuries are ignored or trivialized? Or is this just a sign that all sports (even the "entertainment" variety) need to take better care of their athletes?

Beats me, kids. I'm very, very tired.

I'll be back with some snark tomorrow. Or the next day. Promise.

Yr "Nature Boy" Foto of the Week

Judging by the ring ropes/turnbuckles, older version of the NWA World Heavyweight Title, and Flair's trunks, I'm going to venture that this photo was taken either the St. Louis or Florida territories, circa 1984/85.