W...T...F...?!?

Dear God,

I have been in self imposed-exile so long. Seeking. Seeking the Truth, but not of the Ron Killings kind. My time spent wandering in the outermost perils-beyond the vast Wrestling Wilderness, seeking that which was once Known as the True Wrestling Knowledge....

Seeking, since my last post posted, a Reason. Seeking some golden, fruitful bounty of holy needed Reason to purge forth in honeyed har dee harr harrrs of delightful and sacred commentaries....

And I have returned from thee Wilderness because I have Witnessed.
And I realize now their are no Words.
No Words...

The Truth of Man's Great Wretchedness Has Been Revealed!!
It is an awful Truth! Beyond words!! Mankind's, not the Mic Foley kind, depravity on such a degenerate parade of true wickedness. So sinnfully wrong in it's Terrible countenance....

yr. humble servant
the Rev.

WSX: Where Are They Now? (Part Six)

Months after the whimper-not-a-bang demise of MTV's garbage-y spinny-flip-fest WSX, a bunch of the cats involved seem to be trying to "One Night Stand" their way back into the spotlight by reviving Xtreme Pro Wrestling... which, if yr keeping score, means they're ripping off the comeback show of the federation they were originally ripping off, AFTER their second ripoff failed. That's a lot of offripping!

Juding by the talent on display, they're turning the spinny-flippy WAY down for this one, and putting the focus back on suicidal spots and insane hardcore bloodletting. Whatever. The greatness of ECW was that it managed to transcend the "hardcore" niche with riveting storytelling and excellent ringwork, but its legions of imitators tend to focus solely on stacking barbed wire flaming tables on top of electricfied shark tanks.

So, here's this thing... nice to see Sabu working again, and Vampiro and Kaos tend to "bring it" in a fairly acceptable way. Sandman looked pretty washed up during his WWECW stint, and I can't imagine New Jack still has anything left in the tank. Oh, and a quick trip to th' XPW website reveals that this event has a whopping seven hundred (!?) tickets for sale, so all you shmozz-lovers better get hopping.

Happy 59th Birthday...

..."Nature Boy" Ric Flair.

Yr Black History Month Foto of the Week

Butch Reed and Sweet Brown Sugar with the North American Tag Titles (the CWF/Florida territory tag team belts), circa 1982.

Why We Watch...Exhibit L

We watch professional wrestling for the brash, conceited, quasi-"pretty boy" heel...performed brilliantly in the clip above by "Mr. Perfect" Curt Henning, epitomized by legends like Flair, Blanchard, Hernandez (Gino, not Herclues), and Austin (Idol, not "Stone Cold"), and sadly best exemplified in today's professional sports entertainment wasteland by daddy-to-be, "The Dastardly Defecator" Randy Orton.

But wait, there's more. By watching this clip not only do you get to witness Mr. Perfect squash something called Kevin Renno (whose look seems more suited to the early 90s WCW jobbers than the prototypical WWF enhancement worker from this period) in convincing fashion, you also get to listen to the announcing tandem of Sean Mooney and Lord Alfred Hayes at no additional charge!!!

I could genuinely listen to his Lordship say "How about Earthquake...how about Big Bus Man...how about anybody" for hours days on end. If only at the conclusion of this segment had Sean Mooney thrown it over to himself at the "WWF Event Center" for some last minute Royal Rumble shilling.

If only.

Try Not To Vomit

It saddens me to report that, despite the potential consequences for the human gene pool, Randy Orton has been allowed to reproduce. Orton and his wife (pictured at left just moments prior to the conception) are expecting to burden our mental health system with their offspring sometime this summer.

Now, I'm no fan of eugenics, but can't something be done about this? Surely people like this... you know... with their, um... special needs... well, y'know... it's not like they even know what they're doing, is it? I mean, look at their happy faces! They haven't got a care in the world! And I just don't think they're really capable of making a life-altering decision like this. I mean, genetically, it's highly likely that the product of this union will have the same problems as Randy, or whatever deficiencies his lovely and simple wife may have.

Please, America. I know it's hard to talk about these things. But for the good of hotel rooms and gym bags everywhere, we must not let Randy breed.

Yr Black History Month Foto of the Week

Brickhouse Brown and Ice Man King Parsons...ready to fuck shit up.

Chyna's Sobriety Experiment

Tonight was my first face-to-television exposure withVH1's Friday night ratings juggernaut Celebrity Rehab. About 10 minutes into the inanity, I had an epiphany. I realized that Chyna, pictured here impersonating a cow, is a far more compelling character and viable brand when she is absolutely annihilated on some combination of booze, powders, prescription drugs, and X-Pac semen than when she is teetotaling her way through yet another directionless and humdrum day.

On behalf of Arabian Facebuster, I implore Chyna to reconsider her decision to stay clean. Based on tonight's episode, I am being generous by describing her newfound sobriety as a catastrophic failure and unmitigated disaster.

That is all...

Why We Watch....Exhibit K

We watch for the opening montage of our weekly syndicated wrestling program. I have embedded two classic examples for your consideration. The first is the opening sequence from NWA Pro Wrestling (which yours truly watched faithfully every Saturday morning on Channel 23 in 1986-1987) featuring the mainstays of Jim Crockett Promotions and the moves that made them famous....Tully Blanchard and his slingshot suplex, the high-pitched scream inducing double drop kick of Rock and/or Roll Express, Niktia Koloff's Russian Sickle clothesline, Dusty Rhodes' jiggly breasts, and the centerpieces of this clip, Magnum T.A.'s impeccably kept shlong cut and devastating belly-to-belly suplex, delivered to what has to be the most pathetic, scruffy looking jobber (you've just been usurped, Don Herbert) ever captured on videotape.




The second is the World Wide Wrestling opening theme that supplanted the more well regarded 1984-1988 version shortly after Ted Turner bought out Crockett. I included this not only for the catchy riffage, but Flair's sharply dressed run-in to save Sting and brawl with a formal wear clad Terry Funk and The Great Muta and Jim Ross' histrionic play-by-play (is the man even capable of any other kind?).

I would have included the old World Class Championship Wrestling opening (complete with timpany drums and a cavalcade of Von Erich offensive maneuvers on display), but I have yet to locate the footage.

Thanks to the fine folks at Mid-Atlantic Gateway for making these memories available to share! Enjoy.

Songs From The U.S. Male

The legendary underground radio station WFMU provides many fantastic services to its fans: stellar programming, insightful commentary, and a burning passion for music normally ignored by mainstream (read: sane) audiences. In this reporter's humble opinion, however, WFMU's greatest contribution to Modern Society is their practically bottomless collection of MP3 downloads. Featuring everything from corporate-produced musicals extolling the virtues of state-of-the-art bathroom fixtures to long-forgotten Big Black promotional interviews, WFMU's Mp3 selection will transform yr Ipod from staid to stunning with the click (give or take a few hundred clicks) of a mouse.

Of particular interest to the Facebuster Faithful is the download page from September of '07, which features tracks from the Holy Grail of wrestling ephemera: Classy Freddie Blassie's "Pencil Neck Geek" record. Swaggering machismo? Check. Classic Heel dickishness? Check. Rampant sexism? Check and CHECK. Often imitated, never duplicated... ladies and gentlemen, in association with WFMU New York, Arabian Facebuster presents: THE KING OF MEN!

Now get clicking, geeks!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Stupid Goddamn TNA

So the semi-stars of TNA wrestling are coming to the New York area for a live event a week from Thursday. It features three (3!) championship matches, a tables match, and a number one contenders match for the tag titles. The line up features Kurt Angle vs. Christian Cage (again, but still...), longtime Facebuster fave Samoa Joe vs. AJ Styles (maybe Joe will powerbomb his head into the crowd barrier again), Black Machismo vs. "The Guru of Whimsy" Sonjay Dutt, and our beloved LAX. Just judging by the card, it will be one of the best evenings of pro wrestling this year.

And nobody outside th' Big Apple will get to see it, because the mopes at TNA haven't figured out how to take their TV show on the road. Never mind that they insist on quixotically sending their PPVs to all corners of our great nation (torpedoing their own crowd response, BTW),the logistics of televising their NYC Supercard (trademark Arabian Facebuster, in case you're wondering) have left the TNA braintrust baffled.

Instead, we're getting some NASCAR crossover triple threat bullshit. Just this Monday, a hastily-convened Facebuster conference concluded that triple threat matches suck by definition, but sticking three NASCAR geeks into the mix? Unwatchable.

I got my Thursday nights off for this?

I Have an Annoucement to Make...

Time to dig the 'shroom pipe out of storage and dust off the ol' mortarboard. I'm quiting my job and going back to school!

Welding school!!!



Facebusterians, you won't believe the money these folks make after just a few short months of training. We're talking big money!

Thanks to "Captain Redneck" Dick Murdoch for giving me the confidence to follow his my dreams and the courage to write a check for $49.95 to cover application processing expenses, as well as to the admissions committee at the fabled Tulsa Welding School for extending an offer of matriculation (and cashing my check) in just four business days, thereby making my impetuous career change a swift and sobering reality!

Yr Black History Month Foto of the Week

Bad News Brown

Tonight on The Impact Zone!

According to the Wrestling Observer, tonight's jam packed two-hour adrenaline rush will feature:

Kaz vs. Black Reign in a pole match with mouse traps at the top of three poles and the rat that keeps changing its colors and look and name on top of the other pole.

I hope that dastardly metamorphosing rodent finally gets its comeuppance!!! So, what time is everyone heading over to The Tiny Bubble Room this evening?

Caucus Night in Minnesota

Here in Minnesota, we do democracy in the manner our forefathers intended...inconvenient (you convene and cast your vote between 6:30 and 8:00pm, no exceptions), chaotic (it took me about 20 minutes to find my correct precinct homeroom at the White Bear Lake High School -- Go Bears!), ill-prepared (they had perplexingly run out of "ballots," or more specifically, haphazardly cut 8.5" x 11" pieces printer paper with the names of candidates typed in what appeared to be Courier font), frustrating (I stood in line to sign in for about 45 minutes before finally being given a blank piece of paper and instructions to write in the name of my preferred candidate -- I wonder how many votes Mitt Huckabee will receive tonight!?), decidedly naughty (the nubile caucus clerk was showing some nice ass crack, keeping this nearly disenfranchised voter distracted long enough from otherwise bludgeoning the couple ahead of me in line with my pocket crucifix featuring a tiny bass playing Mike Hucakbee nailed to the cross), and insightful with post-caucus political analysis from former High Flyer and Killer Bee, "Jumpin'" Jim Brunzell.

God damn right.

Leaving the sprawling suburbatropolis of White Bear Lake, I flipped on AM flagship, the "Gooood Neighbor" 830 WCCO, for some perspective on the evening's exercise in standing on line. After a few minutes, Twin Cities radio icon and degenerate gambler Dark Star -- whose frequent use of the word "unbelievable" to describe absolutely anything he is sounding off on is nothing short of...well..unbelievable -- introduced Brunzell, who was calling in from the comfort of his topaz colored 1994 Chevy Astro Van to unleash his political gravitas on the unsuspecting masses. Jumpin' Jim's savvy and sophisticated insights included that he caucused for the first time tonight (as a point of reference, I am about 25 years younger than Jim and have caucused in MN twice despite not living here for 50% of the presidential elections I have been eligible to participate in)...he and his wife drove around trying for what seemed like forever to locate a parking spot in the aforementioned Astro Van...it was really crowded inside too...and he also mentioned something about trying to go to the Obama rally on Saturday but not being able to stick it out because Arabian Facebuster's preferred candidate for enacting its anti-job stealing/disease ridden illegal immigrant, pro third-trimester abortion platform wasn't going to speak until 4:00 and he had dinner plans (Brunzell obviously secured a coveted 5:15 reservation at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company in the food court that Hulkamania! built).

Provocative, shrewd, unrivaled electoral observations from 1/2 of the 27th greatest tag team in World Wrestling Federation History. Now that's compelling radio!

No word on whether former tag team partner B. Brian Blair was able to weather the lines and cast a ballot this evening.

Goodbye, Guys.

Hey there, guys. It's your guy here, with some news for you guys. But... guy, this is hard for a guy to talk about, guys. (Sigh)... well... ok, guys, here goes...

Guys, I'm not coming back to the WWE.

It's a hard choice for a guy to make, giving up the glitzy life of a WWE Superstar. But, guy, even though the WWE are still a great bunch of guys, it just sort of seems like those guys didn't have any real plans for this guy, guys.

Look, I'm just a guy. Heck, we're all guys, here. It's just... guy! This guy worked really hard to get healthy, and put on great shows for you guys, and a guy gets all excited about hanging out with the guys backstage... and then the office guys are all, "Sorry, guy, we won't let you win the Royal Rumble, we've got some other guy in mind for that." And then, guys, do you know what guy they're talking about? That guy John Cena! Don't get me wrong, guys, he's a heck of a guy, but sometimes... that guy... that guy... just... OOOOOHHHH!!!! GUY!

Sorry about that, guys. This stuff just gets a guy pretty worked up.

Anyway, it's hard for a guy to say what's next. There's some great guys in TNA, and some of those Japanese guys are pretty cool, and then there's guys like Brock Lesnar doing that UFC stuff for you guys... guy, the guy doesn't know, guys. It might just be time for a guy to... I dunno, write a guy's memoirs or something. Guy... (sigh)... guy.

Well, that's about it for a guy. I'll see you guys... somewhere. Sometime. Goodbye, guys.

Yr Black History Month Foto of the Week

"The Big Cat" Ernie Ladd

Why We Watch, Exhibit J

Arabian Facebuster would like to take this moment to induct Magnum T.A.'s mullet -- which might very well have been the greatest soccer rocker in the history of Jim Crockett Promotions and the National Wrestling Alliance -- into this blog's Pantheon of Professional Wrestling, alongside such luminaries as Ric Flair, Stan Hansen, Abdullah the Butcher and his trusty fork, Dick Murdoch, The Ultimate Warrior's foray into used car hucksterism, Manny Fernandez, the ethos of World Class Championship Wrestling as captured by Buzz Sawyer, The Fabulous Freebirds, and "Playboy" Buddy Rose.

In order to celebrate this achievements, I give you this sixty second clip from October 1985 (part of the build for the I Quit Steel Cage Match between Magnum and Tully Blanchard at Starrcade '85). There is so much awesomeness to digest...(1) Magnum putting an impassioned lip lock on Baby Doll, with his perfectly combed Mississippi mud flap glistening in the boom lighting; (2) Baby Doll's 80's "coke whore by day, synth rocker by night" leather n' lace gloves, black spandex tights, and ba dunka dunk butt; (3) David Crockett's prepubescent exuberance and shit eating grin as he watches Magnum sexually assault Baby Doll from close range -- "She likes it! She likes it! Look at it! Awww!"; (4) Blanchard's sneak attack to prevent his valet from succumbing to the charms of T.A's perfectly symmetrical, feathery textured shlong cut; and (5) Magnum just fucking unloading some stiff right hands to the cranium of Blanchard as David Crockett tries in vain to pry them off of each other.

Enjoy!

Reason #148 to Despise Hulk Hogan

A few weeks back, Arabian Facebuster endorsed Mike Huckabee for President based on his conservative bona fides -- namely his commitment to mobilize, deploy, and spend every resource at the government's disposal in identifying, rounding up, torturing (fingers crossed), and deporting all 12 million filthy, filthy illegals and his pledge to go to any length to legislate biblically congruent social policy , including amending the United States Constitution -- and the political savvy and equanimity of his backers. After a string of discouraging, momentum killing, distant third place finishes, Arabian Facebuster has decided to pull its support in favor of a candidate that actually stands a plausible chance of winning his or her party's nomination and enacting Arabian Facebuster's three pronged political agenda: (1) erecting a monument on the Washington Mall to honor the memory of Bruiser Brody; (2) exerting pressure on the WWE to turn the Big Daddy V character gayer than a Richard Simmons cameo on an episode of Prison Break; (3) offering on-demand, no questions asked, government funded abortions at every town square and church basement throughout this great land.

Arabian Facebuster was about ready to endorse Barack Obama as the only viable remaining candidate competent enough to articulate this message of hope and committed to implement our platform...until we discovered this clip...



Hulk Hogan just co-opted our (newest) candidate. Sigh.

I wonder if Mike Gravel is still in the race.