Reason #77 to Despise Hulk Hogan

Since dating someone that looks eerily similar (her ass is in the foreground of this photo) to his daughter wasn't sleazy enough to siphon off some paparazzi from the Heidi Montag/Loren Conrad beat, the Hulkster has now resorted to rubbing sunscreen on Brooke's left butt cheek (followed presumably by her right) to generate shock, outrage, concern, envy, contrarian support, perverse fantasy... any reaction or emotion just so long as it involves people paying even the slightest bit of attention to Hulk Hogan.

Here's hoping that this most generous application of SPF 4 prevents Brooke's skin from taking on the unhealthy orange hue, withered, discarded chewing gum texture, and cancer transmitting properties like that of her predatory father.

Yes, I believe that Hulk Hogan's (cancer ravaged) skin actually causes cancer. And his tears.

Yr Old Skool Jobber of the Week

Ethnic babyface jobber The Italian Stallion who spent the bulk of the middle-to-late 1980s flat on his back, putting over the Tully Blanchard's, Arn Anderson's, and Niktia Koloff's of the National Wrestling Alliance.

The World Isn't Nice

The government just handed down their judgment on poor ol' Wesley Snipes, and it seems our man is getting three years in the Federal Pen for failure to file his tax returns. Considering how recently I filed my own taxes, and not wanting to court an audit or anything, I'll keep my fool mouth shut about the verdict. Suffice to say, we'll miss Mr. Snipes and his unique brand of onscreen panache.

The above clip is from Blade: Trinity, perhaps the most interesting entry in Mr. Snipes' filmography for readers of th' Facebuster. While Blade 2 (an articulate discussion of its merits is found here) is probably a superior film, its sequel delivers on all the most basic levels: Triple H as a musclebound vampire goon, Parker Posey as an evil sexpot vampire, comedian Patton Oswalt as "weapons guy", an adorable Pomeranian as "vampire dog," and Jessica Biel's abdomen as itself.

I'd like to urge the Facebuster faithful to revist these cinematic gems. It seems like Wesley will be needing all the royalty checks he can get.

"Oooh, Ric Flair! Superstar Ric Flair..."

Racially Inappropriate Newsflash!

Item! Tag team legend/backstage fixture/T-Shirt shill Michael "P.S." Hayes has been suspended by the WWE for 60 days! The WWE claims he made "illicit remarks" to "The World's Strongest Man" Mark Henry! The ever-accurate TMZ.com claims the two men were drinking at a party over Wrestlemania weekend! Hayes told Henry "I'm more of a nigger than you are"! Shock horror!

This riveting tale of racial tension and cellulite begs several key questions.
First, what exactly was Hayes trying to say? In a physical sense, his statement is patently untrue. While Hayes has certainly packed on a few extra pounds in recent years, Mark Henry is clearly the bigger... well, the bigger anything! If Hayes meant "nigger" in the Chris Rock-inspired "ignorant motherfucker" sense, the may have been closer to the mark. Mark Henry is a former Olympian with a degree from Texas A&M, while Hayes is... well, Michael Hayes is the kind of guy who says "nigger" in front of a four-hundred pound African American fellow. Advantage (?) Hayes!

Second, what does the suspension mean for the future of the sport? Who will sucker-punch MVP in awkwardly-paced interview segments? Who will sell discounted Terry Funk T-Shirts? Who will do whatever the hell else Michael Hayes does (TMZ sez he's a WWE writer, which could explain a lot of things)? Will they replace HIM with Mike Adamle as well?

Third, why the fuck is the WWE publicizing this? They could just as easily have shuffled Hayes out of the public eye (it's not like we were looking for him) and said no more about it. In an era where gym-bag crappers and hotel-trashers get off with barely a harsh scolding, it seems like pure folly to invite media scrutiny by publicly suspending a man who no one in the mainstream media even gives two shits about.

Ah, well. Hopefully Hayes has learned his lesson. Otherwise he might proclaim himself "a bigger retard than Randy Orton" while pre-funking for Judgement Day.

Quotent Quotables...Adamle Style!

Per my comeuppance for that pompous, impetuous, and in hindsight inadvisable Clinton-Obama-WWE bet I made (I presume that wagering against yourself is a sure sign of a gambling problem), let the first week of semi-live blogging the choicest quotes emanating from the mush mouth that is Mike Adamle commence.

9:00pm: We're off...I was not aware that ECW was no longer using "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" as its opening theme, instead going with a far more palatable soundtrack to a premeditated high-school shooting spree.

9:01: "Super Tuesday in Pennsylvania. Super Tuesday in Greensboro North Carolina."

9:04: I have the feeling that I just witnessed the birth of Mike Knox's new nickname..."The Devastator."

9:06: Dreamer/Kelly Kelly vs. Knox/Layla is up. Adamle has twice called a "tag" something other than a tag...a "tap" and a "touch." Curious. I'm quite certain that even the most hostile or indifferent individual towards professional rasslin'/sports entertainment would be able to understand the concept of and/or correctly identify a "tag."

9:07: Adamle needs to improve his reaction time... he proclaimed "there's a cover" just as the ref's hand was coming down for the three count.

9:13: Fuck yeah, John Morrison in singles action. Aw, hell-to-the-no, the Miz is joining Adamle and Tazz on commentary. Sign of the apocalypse? Or well deserved payback for my transgressions over the past two decades?

9:14: According to Adamle, John Morrison has "eight pack abs."

9:16: The Miz is just tearing into Adamle... "Is he (Jimmy Wang Yang) Jamaican you crazy," and "The Tazz" in particular. I am assuming this is a Vince sanctioned burial of the new voice of extreme!?

9:18: Adamle regarding Jimmy Wang Yang's upset victory over Morrison: "He'll put that in his scrap book." I think Adamle is confusing Yang with Jest Harvey.

9:23: Wisely, they have chosen to air a thorough recap of the "King of the Ring" tournament and run down of the entire Backlash card instead of giving Adamle a few more minutes to misidentify even more wrestling holds and maneuvers.

9:26: Backstage with Kofi Kingston stretching in preparation for his match with Shelton Benjamin. Upon seeing his opponent -- "Woh, snap!"

9:32: Kofi/Benjamin is up now. Totally solid TV match. Kofi's a goofy character, but like our dear Rev. has pointed out to me, his high-flying, fast-paced style is fun to watch. Unfortunately, Adamle belittles the athletic prowess of both men by qualifying they are amongst the better competitors "in ECW." Breaking news: Mike Adamle hates black people.

9:35: In all seriousness, Taz(z) is doing a great job covering up for Adamle's glaring announcing limitations by calling the action, identifying moves and explaining/selling their psychology.

9:36: "Jamaican Me Crazy Kofi Kingston, still undefeated."

9:41: A highlight package of the whole Clintons vs. Obama inanity. Back from commercial and Adamle congratulates HRC for winning the Pennsylvania primary. Arabian Facebuster would also like to extend its best wishes to HRC on her decisive albeit ultimately meaningless victory as far as the Democratic nomination is concerned...congratulations you vengeful, cynical, ego maniacal, power hungry, heartless bitch.

9:44: Another week, another forgotten "E." Adamle plugs the web site "w-w-dot-com."

9:47: It's "main event interview segment" time. Edge and his flunkies are out to bring us a "rare" (according to Adamle) edition of "The Cutting Edge" with special guest Kane. Your faithful scribe pours himself a generous glass (i.e. a fishbowl) of wine.

9:55-10:04: More detached and insincere shock and outrage from Adamle as Edge and his minions hold down Kane so Chavo can pummel his leg with the padded/cushioned side of a steel chair. Mmm, this wine is "Jamaican me crazy!"

10:05: Thank God its over. That hour felt like three. Adamle certainly wasn't as unabashedly wretched as his debut last week or that whole Jest Harvey fiasco at the Rumble, but make no mistake about it, at no point in tonight's broadcast did he approach anything resembling professional wrestling announcing competence, even by the most most liberal definitions of that word and generous interpretations of his performance.

The next five weeks are going to be excruciating.

Yr Old Skool Jobber of the Week

Perennial AWA jobber Jake "The Milkman" Milliman, who is perhaps best remembered for upsetting Col. DeBeers in a "turkey on a pole" match as a part of the "Team Challenge Series" during the final weeks of the promotion.

For a bit more detail on all things Milkman, click here.

For an snippet of this pasty skinned, wee nippled, vertically challenged hobgoblin in action -- facing Col. DeBeers with Larry Nelson handling the play-by-play responsibilities no less -- go here.

BREAKING NEWS: Clinton, Obama, McCain...

Via Dave Meltzer:

WWE announced that Sen. Hillary Clinton, Sen. Barack Obama and Sen. John McCain will all appear on tape tonight on Raw. Clinton and Obama are both going to campaign for votes in the Pennsylvania primary.

Aw, fuck me! I need to learn how to keep my big yapper shut.

Adamle's Greatest Hits, Volume 1

They're all here...Sheldon Benjamin, Jamaican Me Crazy, Uno-Dos-Adios, There's That Leg Kick, Reach Out and Tag Someone Michael, WW, The Tazz, and of course The Ballad of Tarzan and Jane.

Oh, and as a bonus, you'll also get the Jest Harvey remix.

The Do Something Congress

The legislative branch sure does get a bad rap these days. Its favorability rating hovers below that of our incompetent and criminally negligent benevolent yet misunderstood President. Amongst the litany of complaints leveled against Congress is that they are of touch with and/or indifferent towards the concerns of yr average Americans, refuse to exercise any fiscal restraint, do the bidding of the lobbyists and special interests, and spend more time bloviating, posturing, and -- depending upon the matter at hand -- feigning either empathy or righteous indignation than they do than rolling up their sleeves, tackling the important issues of the day, and getting things done for hard working Americans (and presumably the underemployed/unemployable or just incredibly lazy and unmotivated ones as well).

These fusspots need to give a viewing to Rep. Sue Myrick's speech on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives. Change your mind often?

Jesus and our founding fathers must be looking down from heaven, teeming with pride at the quality of our officeholders and vitality of our republic. I commend Rep. Myrick for her candor, impassioned yet tempered tone, focus on policy solutions rather than platitudes, and concise yet poignant concluding statement.

Now if only we can find a representative to sponsor naming a post office or wildlife refuge after this guy.

BREAKING NEWS: Styles Clash!

Dave Meltzer is reporting that, effective immediately, Joey Styles (seen here on his way to the unemployment office) has been replaced as the play-by-play man for ECW by *wait for it...wait for it* Mike Adamle.

While the decision to swap out announcer who actually knows the difference between say an Asai moonsault and a standing corkscrew shooting star press (let alone between a side headlock and a turnbuckle) with one who stammers over the acronym of his employer and whose favorite sports entertainer is the "Raybro Chored Wearier" Jest Harvey is perplexing, it is not surprising seeing how Vince McMahon prefers to hire non-in-ring personnel for his pro wrestling company that have little-to-no knowledge of, historic appreciation for, passion towards, or previous experience in pro wrestling.

That settles it, since Secrets Talents of the Stars has been canceled, I'm tuning in to ECW on Sci-Fi this evening to see how this ill-advised and undeserved promotion pans out. And for the chipper, wholesome, and congenial exploits of that Kofi Kingston fellow.

Yr Old Skool Jobber of the Week

Perry Jackson, talent enhancer extraordinaire for World Class Championship Wrestling during the mid 1980s. Or as spacious parking stall admirer Mark Lowrance prefers to call him, Perry Johnson.

I Feel So Weak

This Sunday marks the arrival of TNA Wrestling's "Lockdown" pay-per-view. This, for the uninitiated, is a yearly event in which every match takes place inside a steel cage... or "six sides of steel," due to the ridiculous shape of TNA's "ring." Past Lockdowns have sunk beneath the burden of their (admittedly charming) premise. By putting the same stipulation on EVERY MATCH, you steadily (and rapidly) devalue the phenomenological value of the cage. By the end of the program, the viewer has actually become BORED with seeing grown men grind each other's faces into hamburger against a chain-link fence.

This is clearly an inversion of the natural order.

This year's Lockdown seems especially bloated. It features a whopping two (!) women's matches, one "mixed gender" tag match (made even less watchable by the presence of over-hyped sandbagger Robert Roode), and a match featuring both BG "Mr. Ass" James and his slug-like nemesis Kip "Road Dogg" James. There's also some ridiculous schmozz starring Sting, Kevin Nash, and some other fossils. Toss in some X-Division whimsy (Curry Man?) and some handcuff-related gimmick nonsense, and you've got... oofah.

And yet, come Sunday, where will I be? I will be front and center in front of my televideo box, ice-cold Iron City in hand, accompanied by th' Pencil Neck Geek and th' lovely Valerie, watching this stupid fucking pay-per-view. And why?

Kurt Angle vs. Samoa Joe in a steel fucking cage, that's why.

BREAKING NEWS: Thanks for the Memories!

It looks as if CBS's pitiful entry in the celeb-reality programming sweepstakes, Secrets Talents of the Stars, has gone the way of the dodo bird, the Yugo, New Coke, the American Wrestling Association, and the last vestiges of Hulk Hogan's dignity and morality (see the post below for a more fully developed explanation). Lazily copied and pasted in full from NPR.org which takes a refreshing condescending and mocking tone in imparting the program's premature demise:

After a single episode, CBS canceled its reality show Secret Talents of the Stars. If you were among the lucky 4.6 million who tuned in, you saw an actor from Star Trek sing "On the Road Again." Clint Black did standup. The singer Mya tap-danced. And people turned away in droves. The sudden cancellation means we'll never see a future episode showing Danny Bonaduce's talent.

Alas, we will never get to witness Ric Flair's salsa dancing exploits, unless of course one of us happens to be at a night club or social function that is being graced by Flair's presence. Looks like its back to sleeping in late, spending more time with his family, consoling affable Christian zealot Mike Huckabee, and/or overseeing the expansion of his virtual financial services empire for the "Nature Boy."

As for George Takei, it looks like he'll be going back to his old job...being William Shatner's bitch.

Despising Hulk Hogan: A Retrospective

Over the years, Arabian Facebuster has compiled a "go to" list of sports entertainment luminaries to inspire reliable, top notch, grade A, prolific blog fodder. This list includes the likes of "The Dastardly Defecator" Randy Orton, Jeff "Rag O' Jizz" Hardy, Bobby "Guy" Lashley, (the yet to be realized) Big Gay Viscera, the cast of the short-lived, ill-fated serial Wrestle Society X, and of course perpetual trainwreck and ruiner of an upcoming weekend for Pencil Neck Geek, Chyna.

Thank you all.

But not a one of them comes close to matching the disdain, mockery, invective, visceral odium, and righteous indignation -- not to mention precious staff energy, time, and brain power -- that Arabian Facebuster has directed towards Hulk Hogan, his minions, and the man's every vain thought or selfish action.

What started off as a screed against the Hulkster's shallow and contrived patriotism followed by a caustic, irrefutable exhumation of the man’s leathery skinned, chrome domed jihadist's culpability in the deadliest terrorist attack ever on American soil has morphed into a cathartic, collaborative, and persistent airing of grievances.

For those either new to the Arabian Facebuster project or that only stop by intermittently, a complete list of reasons why we do and you should despise Hulk Hogan -- in numerical order, to boot! -- is available below.

Reason #: 3; 3:16; 4; 5; 7; 9; 15; 17; 34; 37; 95; 100; 104; 113; 148; 163; 163a (corollary post); 209; 225; 242; 243; 248; 956; and Unnumbered.

Of course, this litany of gaffes and transgressions merely scratches the surface of our contempt for this man, his family, his friends, his fans, and whomever is responsible for dressing him like a mannequin in the boys department at J.C. Penney's. But there is a lot of ground that has yet to be covered. Rest assured, Arabian Facebuster will continue to document and disseminate this man's pomposity and preposterousness as our resources permit.

Thank God for the mathematical concept ∞.

'Yer Old School Mystery Mustache of the Week:

             Can you name this "Bad Guy"?!?

(hint: this pic hails from a time before toothpicks and the 'Razor's Edge')

I'm All In!

According to the beat writer minion that submitted spoilers from ECW's futile attempt to entertain the citizens of Boston:

They also had promos that said Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton would be on Raw, I believe on the 21st when they get back from Europe. Maybe a spoof but several promos were shown to the audience.

The bolding and italics are mine. Maybe a spoof!? Maybe?! Way to go out on a limb there Jimmy The Greek. Have you watched WWE programming at any time in say the last 10 years? Congratulations, in the infinitesimal chance that the actual Democratic presidential candidates do appear in a World Wrestling Federation ring, you'll not be unequivocally wrong in your assessment. The blob of lard redolent of nail polish remover and chili cheese fries that you call your wife is sure to be proud of your prudent and evenhanded reporting.

I can say with absolute certainty that the odds of me winning the Powerball, with a ticket purchased at local Pump n' Munch from a lowly third shift cashier that just so happens to be occasional political pundit Jumpin' Jim Brunzell, are substantially higher than anything of the sort actually occurring. Tell you what, if Arabian Facebuster's former favorite son and Hillary Clinton (the actual candidates, not Glenn Jacobs dressed in black face and Rick Bogner dressed in drag, or the return of the Rosie/Donald thespians, or any other third-rate impersonators) show up on RAW, or SmackDown! or ECW for that matter, together, anytime between now and say the end of time, yours truly Malibu Sands also will *gulp* watch and file a report on the Chyna-Sean Waltman sexcapade.

If not, the staff at Arabian Facebuster can throw in either a pack of Marlboro Medium cigarettes or can cozy with a hilarious and possibly sexist idiom to complement my case of frosty beers that I am currently owed and will redeem the next time I set foot in the 503. Your choice.

Alright, let's gamble!

WEL-COME BACK!! WEL-COME BACK!!

After a lengthy and arduous seven day sabbatical away from the spotlight, the time has finally come for the greatest professional wrestler of all time to make his eagerly-awaited return. Tonight, "Nature Boy" Ric Flair embarks on what promises to be the most illustrious and triumphant comeback since the resurrection of Jesus Christ via the CBS part celeb-reality show-part talent competition-all formulaic claptrap, Secret Talents of the Stars.

Hey Naitch, what took you so long?

Flair and his clandestine salsa dancing exploits will be on display as he competes against a cavalcade of Hollywood's biggest and brightest, including washed up figure skater Sasha Cohen, ex-Donald Trump spooge receptacle Marla Maples, Girls Next Door co-star Bridget Marquardt (not the blond imbecile with the fake tits that is allegedly banging Hugh Heffner or the blond imbecile with the fake tits whose cognitive faculties make the contestants on Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? seem like dues paying, rank-n-file members of Mensa by comparison...the other one), the Asian guy from Star Trek, something called Jo Dee Messina, black nationalist Malcolm Jamal Warner (not to be confused with the militant black separatist "Malcolm" Jaleel White), and America's favorite angry, drug addicted, mentally imbalanced fire crotch Danny Bonaduce, pictured above -- sporting the third worst outfit ever depicted on this blog's hallowed pages -- just moments before erupting into a blind range and walloping the shit out of a malnourished Joe Isuzu with his adorable twin unicycles.

And not a stranger to a red carpet procession among them!

Last time I this was giddy to watch a show on CBS: The premier of Armed and Famous. Honorable mention: Any episode of Major Dad.

Late Update: It appears that winning this competition is at least in part predicated on receiving the most telephone calls and interweb clicks from the humanoids watching at home. Advantage: DPITG (Dirtiest Player in the Game...I'm trying to incorporate a new acronym into our contemporary parlance). If you recall, Flair was running a strong second to the aforementioned Lord n' Savior in Time Magazine's Person of the Century online poll before eventually being disqualified due to unsubstantiated, highly dubious, and no doubt politically motivated allegations of virtual ballot stuffing. Disenfranchisements, conspiracies, and resentments aside, the bottom line is that, in cyberspace, Flair is a more revered figure than Gahndi. He's more transcendent than Martin Luther King, Jr. More gifted than Picasso. More transformative than F.D.R. And more profound than Einstein.

So how are the likes of Sheila E. or Ben Stein going fare against an icon who has earned the admiration and respect of mouse jockeys and keyboard warriors everywhere?

Something tells me, not very well.

Yr Old Skool Jobbers of the Week

It was 21 years ago this month that the greatest brother jobber tag team in the annals of professional wrestling...Bill Mulkey...RandyMulkey...The Mulkey Brothers!!!... scored their one and only televised pinfall victory as a tag team combination, defeating the masked Gladiators on the NWA's flagship World Championship Wrestling program to earn a birth in the 1987 Jim Crockett Senior Memorial Cup Tag Team Tournament.

That's Bill on the left, Randy on the right. Yes, I actually know which one is which. Jealous?

For a more recent picture of the brothers Mulkey, click here.

Last Mulkey related item for your consideration..."Beautiful" Bobby Eaton recounts a story of The Midnight Express facing off against the Mulkey's that warrants copying and pasting:

No joke, "Mulkeymania" was a real thing in North Carolina. When Stan and I were together, the Mulkeys were incredibly popular. Normally, when we wrestled guys like the Mulkey Brothers, it was for TV, so you tried to beat them as quickly as possible.

Well, one night, we were scheduled to fight them at a house show. It was at the height of their popularity, and the crowd was going nuts for them. So, Stan and I decided to give the fans their money's worth. We decided that instead of beating the Mulkeys in less than five minutes like we usually did, we were going to pound them for forty minutes before pinning one of them.

Well, aside from the Mulkeys probably never having wrestled more than five minutes before, they were both in terrible shape. They smoked and I don't think they did any cardio work. So, after ten minutes, they were completely blown up. You know how a wrestler drags himself across the ring to tag his partner after a beating? Well, the Mulkeys were doing that ten minutes into the match just from being completely winded. They were literally crawling after ten minutes just from being tired. Stan and I were hysterical.

"Let Us Take A Closer Look.." (also known as Reason 3:16 to Despise Hulk Hogan)

Ahem.

Excuse me, Hulkster...

Listen, "Brother"... I got something to say to you

that maybe you should hear.

No, no, it's not about

the fanny pack you are wearing...

(B.T.W.- this picture

was taken of you as recently on your last night out on the town with that chick that all the pappis were calling ???mistakenly??? by your daughter Brooke's name. But that's a whole 'nother Can-Full... not of "Whup-Ass" Can-type, but the

wiggly-wriggly worm-type...as in that steroid shrunken

worm-type that you just can't seem to keep in your itty bitty old-school golden junk-trunks)

Ahem.

Excuse the rev., 'Brother Hulkster, its just that T-shirt you got on. After I stopped thinking to myself "Hummm.. maybees that woman doesn't look EXACTLY the fuck like your daughter, (but just maybe a negative-30- year-pre-op- version-of- your- soon- to- be- X-wife-Linda-like-) I goes and I sees the so to speak so called fine print on your T-Shirt.

Dude...Brother....I mean I understand the need to express yourself by T-shirt logoing as the next guy, but COME ON!!! (all-caps for emphasis)

Perhaps "Leather Dude", or "Never Let Them Make You Put The Other Guy Over", or even "Pinch Patrol" would better express the nature of the One True Hulkster we all know and love....

But "Christian Soldier"???

While on a date...

After already having banged repeatedly your Daughter's much-older "Best Friend"...

And the much younger woman you are out on a date with looks EXACTLY THE FUCK LIKE YOUR DAUGHTER.

"Christian Soldier" eh?

Way to Go Hulkster. Way to Go.

the rev.

Why We Watch, Exhbit D.2

Not unlike a certain deranged contemporary philosopher's foray into the seedy world of used car sales, Arabian Facebuster has unearthed this gem, featuring yet another disreputable and washed up --yet dapperly attired -- superstar who has control over neither the volume nor inflection of his own voice while shamelessly hawking goods and services over the local airwaves.

What does the Portland Office know of this orange tinting, leather skinning enterprise?

Reason #5 To Despise Hulk Hogan

He's coated his unfortunate new girlfriend in his greasy secretions. Adding insult to... well, to insult, he appears to be slicking her hair back, forcing her to mimic his own wildly receding hairline. The poor thing. She must have really low self-esteem.

As a side note, is it really a "hairline" if 70% of yr head is bald? Doesn't that make it more of a "baldline"? A "skinline"? A "chromeline"? Anyone?

RAW is FLAIR

Here at Arabian Facebuster, we haven't held back in pointing out or pulled any punches in disparaging the listless, directionless, ludicrous, non-wrestling focused, and all-n-all lackluster state of WWE programming in recent months years. Therefore, in the interest of full disclosure, I want to give the devil its due and *swallows pride* commend the WWE for this past Monday's edition of RAW, anchored by a genuine, poignant, classy, unforgettable, and richly deserved tribute to the storied career and legacy of "Nature Boy" Ric Flair.

From Randy Orton's promo directed at those naysayers (that would be us) that did not give him a chance to retain his title at WrestleMania, to a couple of totally solid, back-n-forth ten minute wrestling matches between Jericho-Punk and Orton-M. Hardy, to what looks like a *gasp* actual push for the high-flying/daredevil team of Kendrick and London (or perhaps finally pulling the trigger on a heel turn for Kendrick), to blowing off the whole Santino-Maria quarrel (albeit inexplicably with Maria having the last laugh/going over in a wrestling match), to making me want to see a Batista-Michaels program based on nothing more than a brief backstage stare down and their well documented ties to and affinity for Flair, to the surprisingly entertaining Big Shew-Khali confrontation that will inevitably result in a series of plodding, sloppily executed, horrendous matches, to Flair's contented promo thanking the fans for their support over his career and bidding them a heartfelt farewell, to the Four Horsemen reunion (and my favorite rendition of that stable/franchise, at that), to appearances by the likes of Race, Steamboat, and Valentine to honor both Flair the performer and Flair the man, Monday Night RAW was filled with segments that make me proud to be a fan of THE professional wrestling.

Oh, and Cryme Tyme returned.

Yr Old Skool Jobber of the Week

This month, Arabian Facebuster proudly presents a multimedia (read: .jpg files and embedded YouTube clips) spectacular in tribute to the old skool professional wrestling jobber. One caveat: flash photography seemingly frightens and confuses this elusive creature. This ambitious, thematic, archaeological project therefore promises to be the most arduous assignment yours truly Malibu Sands has ever undertaken. More strenuous than the one and one-half seconds it took me to decide not to ever give a second thought to enlisting in the army, or for that matter, any branch of our country's armed services (cue "USA...USA" chant). More exhausting than convincing my devout Catholic ex-girlfriend to have an abortion since I couldn't stand the thought of having her blimp up like a female, late 1980s version of "Playboy" Buddy Rose...or a modern day Dairy Windham. Oh, and because I really wanted out of our relationship but hadn't gotten around to telling her yet. My bad.

Anyhoo, without further ado, I present to Th' rabid Facebuster Dog Pound this week's Old Skool Jobber of the Week...Tommy Angel, who toiled in NWA/WCW purgatory during the late 1980s/early 1990s before heading northward to try and jump start his career in the World Wrestling Federation. Not surprisingly, this migration also resulted in total professional humiliation and personal failure.

Customary of enhancement workers from this era, Tommy proudly sported a meticulously styled and tightly curled schlong cut, captured at right. And to the picture on the left -- like this country's preeminent jobberologist -- I too am dumbfounded as to why Tommy was arbitrarily flexing..in front of a fishing hole...in his ring gear.

Did I ever mention to you guys how much I love this sport?