Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Wrestlemania 25 Must Be Destroyed

Thank you, dear readers. It's good to be back?

Christ. I take a one year victory lap (alcohol coma) after what was arguably the finest Wrestlemania in almost a decade (that would be 'Mania 24, if you give a shit) and what happens?

Wrestling goes straight in the goddamn crapper.

Ladies and gentlemen, there is no excuse for this sort of thing. It's not like our beloved Arabian Facebuster dried up and went away. You had tons of new content provided by the one and only Malibu Sands, the closest thing to a conscience that wrestling's got! You had spiritual advice from the Rev. Von Fury! You even had a shocking glimpse of Hell Unleashed when th' Geek finally sacked up and watched the Chyna sex tape! And yet, and yet, and yet...

One cannot argue with results. And the singular, clear result of my year-long abscence from th' wrassle-blog stage? TNA further mired in misguided whimsy and ass-hatted booking. The double-double E growing steadily more bloated (given the shit sandwiches they're serving up three nights a week, do they really need to go for four?) and complacent. All toppped off by the worst Wrestlemania (possibly) ever.

Every match. I repeat, EVERY MATCH has some grotesque sandbagging waste-of-flesh Heat Vaccuum in it, ensuring that there will be NO CHANCE of any sort of goodness sneaking through the cable wires to thrill and delight the discerning fan. Let's check the lineup:

We've got Chris Jericho, in the middle of an excellent run as a petulant and psychotic heel, shackled to three aging has-beens who he will have to (perhaps literally) carry through the match. If Roddy Piper wants to shit on his legacy, that's his business, but does he have to drag Jericho down with him?

There's a 25-diva Battle Royal, about which the less said, the better. Santino Marella will be on hand to provide "hijinks", but is that really worth yr $40 (or whatever they're charging for this travesty)?

There's the always-reliable Money In The Bank Match. A constant bright spot in recent 'Manias, it could only be ruined by inserting some ponderous oafs into it, some real clumsy behemoths... oh, let's say Kane and Mark Henry. Hilarious! Surely even the hacks at the WWE are too bright to... do what now?

You've got Shawn Michaels vs. The Undertaker. Despite the plodding and lukewarm promo work these two have been doing to hype their match, it should be, y'know... watchable. Still, I'd rather watch HBK wrestle, like... ANYBODY else.

Whoops, spoke too soon. The Miz is in the next match.

Then, Jeff and Matt Hardy wrestle in an "extreme rules" thingy. My thesis sort of falls apart here. This one should be pretty fucking solid.

WOOHOO! JBL will be stinking up the ring against the always-underutilized Rey Mysterio! Thesis BACK ON TRACK!

Edge vs. John Cena equals yawns. Adding the Big Show to the mix is like adding morphine to Vicodin. While wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. And snuggling a baby panda. Minus the euphoria, comfort, and cuteness, obviously.

And then Triple H versus Randy Orton, which could well be the match of the night, if that gives you any idea how much trouble we're in.

God Hell, I hate pro wrestling.

Sunny Days R Here Again!

In much anticipation amongst Arabian Facebuster's team of Sexy Action News correspondents and our devoted, racuous, and heavily intoxicated if fleeting readership of Sunny's participation in this year's Diva Battle Royal at Wrestle Mania XXV, I thought it appropriate to illustrate why we became so enamored with The Original Diva in the first place.

Unlike Brooke Hogan and the current crop of WWE skanks, Sunny is so much more than a pair of fake knockers, brain full of mush, and carrier of emotional baggage from being touched in an inappropriate fashion as a teenager by her exploitative father whose skin resembles a piece of discarded orange chewing gum. She not only looked (and from my understanding once again looks) stunning, she could deliver lines that upon a single distracted viewing appear extemporaneous, and effortlessly operate a penis shaped gun that sprays and soaks like the log flume ride at the Wild Waves/Enchanted Village amusement park.

Oh, and kudos to Julia Sweeney for creating the androgynous "Pat" character (I suggest following this link for the Ween performance alone) and the facial contortions that Jim Cornette blatantly ripped off to convey moistness, slight irritability, and the desire for either a change of dry clothes or a really absorbent towel after having Sunny squirt a high powered triple load all over his Van Husen dress shirt.

Yr "Ric Flair &..." Foto of the Week

...Bruiser Brody. St Louis Wrestling Club, circa 1983.

Monday, March 30, 2009

...Because nobody here actually watches SmackDown!...

Armageddeon is truly upon us when they debut the New-Age Acolytes.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Why We Watch...Exhibit E.2

It has been brought to my attention that the "Why We Watch Exhibit E" clip of Dick Murdoch cutting one of the most cantankerous heel promos I have ever witnessed has been taken down from YouTube. After much scouring and no luck in locating another copy, I have decided to post up on the ol' Facebuster another memorable example of Captain Redneck applying his craft, this time in a far more traitorous and treacherous fashion against his one-time partner and long-time nemesis Dusty Rhodes and freshly turned babyface and new BFF and tag team partner of The American Dream (if you weeelllll!) "The Russian Nightmare" Nikita Koloff.

Granted, we have been featuring a lot of Murdoch's exploits at Arabian Facebuster lately (if you need a refresher, go here, here, and especially here)...and deservedly so. While Murdoch's technical prowess and corpus of consistently high quality in-ring output suffer to some extent when compared to the likes of some of yr and my all-time favorite North American workers like Flair, Brody, Michaels, Hart, Benoit, Savage, Steamboat, Hansen, DiBiase, and Windham, his (a) talents on the stick, namely his aptitude at hurling insults at the crowd, the interviewer and his foe while offering a perversely compelling reason for his outlook and actions; (b) ability to project a ornery, gruff, crass, odious, entitled, and cocky bordering on conceited character that seems far more authentic and effortless than insincere and invented solely for the purposes of wrestling spectacle; and (c) penchant for sadistic, ruthless, impressively violent sneak attacks and beatdowns on his adversaries.

The clip above is culled from a early 1987 syndicated episode of NWA Pro Wrestling. Nikita had turned babyface a couple of months back as a result of being moved by Magnum TA's horrible car accident, an accident that never allowed Magnum to climb in the ring and compete again. Obviously, this sympathy towards a proud, mulleted, incapacitated American didn't sit well with uncle Ivan Koloff and his revolving, interchangeable band of bald and/or masked pinko cronies. Thus, a six man tag match was signed to hopefully settle this quarrel with Nikita and Dusty teaming up with then babyface Dick Murdoch against Ivan, Vladamir Pietrov, and something called Big Red (who was no doubt just some schlep under a mask and no one of any sort of import).

The match itself is a complete wash as Koloff immediately delivers the dreaded Russian Sickle on the hapless jobber and proceeds to pick up the victory for his team. What transpires next not only embodies the qualities I cited above as to why I think Dick Murdoch is one of the all-time greats, it also demonstrates the spirit, orientation, tendencies, and approach of Jim Crockett Promotions during the 1985-1988 period and its booker (Rhodes), who had to insert himself in seemingly every feud/angle/storyline in the promotion.

I'll let consummate pro Bob Caudle and a hysterical Johnny Weaver take over from here.

Update: Murdoch does another Pearl Harbor job on Nikita here. If you happen to have an aversion to a Communist turncoat being dropped on his head on a concrete floor via a vicious looking brainbuster suplex, I would suggest you occupy yr time with an alternative pursuit, say ogling Hulk Hogan's daughter's muscly crotch.

Deep Thought...

I wonder if Batista's estranged lesbian mother finds the tight n toned, scantily clad, properly exfoliated, silicone and collagen enhanced WWE divas as vacuous, interchangeable, often indistinguishable, and non-arousing as I do?

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Yr Old Skool Ethnic Babyface of the Week

Before he became "The Model," Rick Martel was a hero to French-Canadians everywhere, particularly those residing in Canada.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Nightmarish Secrets Revealed- Redux

Hola, amigos. How’s it hanging with you? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but things have been kinda hectic around El Casa de Geek lately. Jazz dance lessons, my civil war re-enactment club, and an unsuccessful run for city council have kept this hombre’s day planner more than a little crammed. Also, I’m too drunk to write pretty much all of the time.

Anyhoo, enough about me. You’re undoubtedly here to read a very special review- and a very special review you shall receive. Let’s get right to it:

World Championship Wrestling for the Nintendo Entertainment System is a non-stop thrill ride that any true professional wrestling fan shouldn't miss.

Gritty in-ring action is the name of the game and needless to say, it can hardly be contained within the confines of this dusty, gray cartridge. Fulfill your dreams of stepping into Captain Mike Rotundo’s boots, punching and kicking your way to a shot at the WCW world title (held by an Andre the Giant looking dude with a Mexican wrestling mask). With graphics, sound, and game play that are generally adequate (by 1988 standards), I can say without a doubt that it is the second best purchase I've ever made for under a dollar at the North Portland Eagle’s swap meet (right after that talking Undertaker piggy bank).

Hmm, I wonder if set a blog record for the most parenthetical statements used in one paragraph…

Huh? What’s that now? Enough of the funny business, you say? WrestleMania XXV is less than two weeks away? I still haven’t made good on the bet that I lost at last year’s WrestleMania? Gee fellers, time sure does fly by fast. Someone should have just reminded me. Fine, time to take a deep breath and make good on the deal. Binding agreements are strictly enforced here at Arabian Facebuster and live blogging TNA’s Impact Zone for the next year is not a penalty I’m willing to endure.

First, a word or two about schadenfreude. It’s a bitch... When this whole disaster was cooked up, I couldn't have been more supportive. From my perspective, the previous year’s wager went swimmingly. I didn't win, but more importantly, I didn't lose. As Apollo Spas dutifully slogged through the literary abortion that is Joanie Laurer’s “If They Only Knew”, my thoughts turned to what sorts of other Chyna related media I’d like to see my pals suffer through. The realization that there was documented footage of Chyna and X-Pac copulating was almost too good to be true. I could hardly wait to stand on the sidewalk and guffaw as a fellow Facebuster staffer grudgingly stepped into Valentine Video’s dank Air Stream trailer to pluck a sticky VHS copy from the shelf. Well, as it turns out, I suck at predicting wrestling outcomes, the videos at Valentine Video are sticky, and the movie is every bit as repulsive as you would expect it to be. Heed these words- when the stakes involve potentially irreversible physical and emotional damage, never put all your eggs in Umaga’s basket.

“One Night in Chyna” the story of two dirt bags who like to have sex all the time. Our protagonist, X-Pac, is remarkably greasy and has a crooked wang. Our heroine, Chyna, is notable for her masculine physique and a clitoris reminiscent of a Vienna sausage. Chyna kicks off the proceedings with some sort of S&M leather whip dance. She looks hesitant and embarrassed. Not very desirable traits in a dominatrix, I suppose. X-Pac suggests that next time, perhaps a disco ball would help. The courtship continues and X-Pac struggles to remove his jeans. Steve Vai-esque guitar shredding (Barry White for the whiskey tango set) drones in the background. Chyna (apologies to the Fritzer) performs the slobber boogie on X-Pac’s bonerphone. X-Pac delivers oral pleasure to Chyna with all the conviction of George “The Animal” Steele devouring a particularly well constructed turnbuckle. This continues for what seems to be an eternity. Finally, the grainy night vision footage cuts out and we re-join the couple for more cunnilingus already in progress. The lighting is better this time- bummer. Eventually, the session progresses to full fledged bonin’ with X-Pac providing the inevitable finale.

In the name of good taste and compassion towards my fellow man, I've avoiding linking to any footage of the porn itself. I found out the hard way (pun reluctantly intended) that erectile dysfunction is no laughing matter. Those interested in understanding the degree of stomach clenching nausea I experienced can do so by watching this New Jack clip. Fucking disgusting, right? Multiply that by a thousand.

Phew. Now that we have that out of the way, we can get down to brass tacks regarding this year’s WrestleMania wagering. Supposedly, there is more of this garbage out there on the Internets. Malibu Sands even suggested that the only logical extension of the bet would be for one of us to have sex with Chyna herself. Sadly, this is a completely feasible proposition that could easily become a reality via donations to Ms. Laurer from our collective medicine cabinets. But let’s take the high road for once, shall we? I, for one, am taking an oath to preserve whatever may remain of Chyna’s self respect and dignity by by not forcing one of my friends to have sex with her for the collective yuks of our gang and associated online pervs. That’s just the kind of classy guy I am.

Instead, this year’s booby prize comes courtesy of the US Government. Seems that forcing detainees at Guantanamo Bay to listen to an endless loop of rambling by a certain leathery dirigible is a violation of the Geneva Convention. Consequently, Uncle Sam was forced to sell 3,271 cassette copies of Hulk Hogan’s autobiography (read by the man himself) at the bargain basement price of $0.01 a piece. A copy arrived in my mailbox today and shall be bestowed upon the person making the fewest correct WrestleMania predictions. A review, of course, is expected to follow. Here’s just a taste of what one of us has to look forward to: “Yeah, I’m the towering red-and-yellow warrior who revolutionized the wrestling business, the larger-than-life superhero who transformed an entire country into a horde of Hulkamaniacs ™. I’m the guy who spit blood and breathed fire to help create an empire called World Wrestling Entertainment™.” As the cover assures, “It’s the real deal, brother”. Best of luck, gents.

Oh, and one more thing… SUCK IT!

Monday, March 16, 2009

Reason #25 to Despise Hulk Hogan

This was his reaction after watching that.

Another one of the proud papa with his cherubic lil' whore can be viewed here.

Why We Watch...Exhibit I.2

I didn't realize that "Playboy" Buddy Rose had a run in the mid-1980s WWF (I was aware of his early 1980s run and more infamous late 1980s/early 1990s jobber-esque tour of duty) under the tutelage of Bobby Heenan.

Regardless, please consider the embedded clip above as nothing more than supplemental evidence to the preceding well argued and supported thesis.

Reason #13 to Despise Hulk Hogan's Sperm

Yr Old Skool Ethnic Babyface of the Week

Pedro Morales, the most decorated Puerto Rican professional wrestler in World (Wide) Wrestling Federation/Entertainment history.

The second most decorated? Possibly Savio Vega?

Sunday, March 15, 2009

"This is only a Test..."

Former WWE superstar and former Stephanie McMahon's one-time fiance', Test aka "Andrew Martin" was found dead in his apartment on Friday. Seems a nosy neighbor noticed through a window that her backne riddled pro-wrestling neighbor hadn't moved in a few hours and called the cops.

Test was let go from WWE a while back due to a failure to stay well in the Wellness program, got dumped by his then girl-friend Kelly Kelly, picked up two quick Duiwee's, moved to TNA, got fired by TNA, and then started working in Japan and Europe, and then dropped dead.

I'd like to say I am shocked and stunned, but frankly, this same old story is getting samer and older every time.

Oh, and he used to date Stacey Keibler as well. Seems to me this young buck (34yrs. of age) had better memories than the stuff found mostly in our dreams. Now if only Test had done something about clearing up that backne in time....

the rev.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Ted DiBiase's Lifestyle: Rich, Famous

Compared to The Million Dollar Man, yr fame and fortune are a mere pittance, "Macho Man" Randy Savage.

Update: The jobber getting body slammed at ringside at about three minutes in is none other than former AWA Light Heavyweight Champion Buck "Rock & Roll" Zumhofe. More on him later, Facebuster nation. Much, much more.

Later Update: The heelish antics contained in this clip, taken alone, make a persuasive case that Ted DiBiase is the most devious and villainous character in the history of professional rasslin'.

Reason #1 to Admire Divorce Lawyers...

...they don't take no shit from balding pony tailed cripple Hulk Hogan and his hairpiece adorned attorney who bears a striking resemblance to beloved serial wife beater "Stone Cold" Steve Austin.

Arabian Facebuster is envious of Raymond Rafool for having the opportunity to put Hulk Hogan in his place with cameras rolling...yet in awe of his ability to seize the moment and deliver a acerbic yet articulate diatribe to Hulk Hogan's face for his lack of morals, alleged unscrupulous business dealings, passive-aggressive nature throughout these divorce proceedings, and proclivity for posturing, melodrama, and putting forth wholly unfounded allegations of victimization and persecution whenever a microphone, camera, and reporter not affiliated with Arabian Facebuster Sexy Action News Team are in his wrinkly skinned vicinity.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

BREAKING NEWS: There Will Soon Be Breaking News...

...in the grizzled old wrestler and disreputed slime ball wrestling company owner murders a well respected scientist who fled Nazi persecution fiasco. And Arabian Facebuster's Sexy Action News Team will be there to break down these breaking developments and empower YOU to think critically about and make sense of all of the intricacies and complexities of this Shakespearean tragedy tell you what to think about it in the most unsophisticated and abridged manner humanly possible.

Development looms today in case of man fatally beaten by Gagne

Last update: March 12, 2009 - 10:31 AM

A significant development is looming in the case of Verne Gagne, the Minnesota wrestling legend who has been implicated in the beating death of a 97-year-old man at the Bloomington care facility where the two men resided.

A news conference for 3 p.m. today has been called in downtown Minneapolis by Hennepin County Attorney Mike Freeman. Representatives of the county medical examiner's office and Bloomington police also will be there to discuss the case.

Helmut Gutmann, 97, died Feb. 14 of complications from injuries inflicted by Gagne during the attack Jan. 26 at the memory-loss unit of Friendship Village. The medical examiner ruled the death a homicide.

Police have been investigating the death, and their report to the county attorney was expected this week.

Most observers think charges are unlikely because both Gagne, 82, and Gutmann had Alzheimer's disease, which affects judgment and memory.

A portion of the police report, revealed Tuesday in a search warrant obtained for taking photos and collecting records at Friendship Village, said that Gutmann died in an "unprovoked attack" during which he was "grabbed, shaken and thrown to the ground" by Gagne.

The warrant added that Gagne had assaulted fellow Friendship Village residents at least twice in five months before the altercation with Gutmann.

Gutmann, a widely respected scientist and musician, fled to the United States from Nazi Germany in 1936. His widow, Betty Gutmann, still lives at Friendship Village.

Gagne, who was born in Corcoran, wrestled for the former Robbinsdale High School and the University of Minnesota, where he was an NCAA champion. In 1949, he began wrestling professionally and established the Twin Cities as the nation's hub for the sport. He wrestled in and oversaw the American Wrestling Association.

Gagne played football for the Gophers in 1943, enlisted in the Marines and then returned to the U, where he was an All-America wrestler.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Deep Thought...

TNA! fears watchability.

Buried in The Wrestling Observer Tuesday update:
-- Danny Bonaduce makes his pro-wrestling debut on April 19th -- for TNA on the Lockdown PPV. Yes. TNA hasn't announced an opponent yet, but whoever it is will be in studio on March 20th for the contract signing, live on Bonaduce's radio show on 94.1 in Philadelphia. It's actually a hell of a way to get the word out locally about the show.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Verne Gagne: Habitual Senile Assaulter!

Time to treat this piece of trash like Nick Hogan and lock him up for a few months with a bunch of other pathological, malicious, ruthlessly violent savages, then swiftly release him back into the general population dressed like a garden variety whiskey tango gangsta that spends his idle time between slinging rock, busting caps in muthafuckas, rolling on 20"s, banging hoes, and pimping out said hoes after he's finished banging them up in TGI Fridays hizzouse ordering rack after rack of dried out succulent baby back ribs and heaping bowls upon bowls of hearty broccoli and cheddar soup. Yes, dear readers, this Verne Gagne story is about to get a whole lot weirder...um, I mean off the heeize for shizzle:

Search warrant: Gagne involved in previous retirement home assaults

March 10, 2009

Minnesota wrestling legend Verne Gagne had assaulted fellow residents at the Bloomington retirement home where he lived at least twice in five months before the altercation that led to the death of a 97-year-old man, according to a search warrant.

The search warrant, filed last week and unsealed Tuesday, is the first public document that acknowledges Gagne's involvement in the death of Helmut Gutmann. Gutmann died Feb. 14 from complications of a broken hip after an what the warrant calls an "unprovoked attack" during which Gutmann was "grabbed, shaken and thrown to the ground" by Gagne on Jan. 26 at the memory-loss unit of Friendship Village, where both men lived. The Hennepin County Medical Examiner ruled his death a homicide.

The warrant requests entrance to the area within Friendship Village where the assault occurred so that police may take photographs to display where Gagne, Gutmann and witnesses were during the incident. It also seeks prior reports made about incidents involving Gagne.

In an affidavit by Detective Ed Hanson, Bloomington police received a Vulnerable Adult Maltreatment Report stating that Gutmann was taken to Fairview Southdale Hospital after the altercation. A copy of the report was sent to the state Department of Health, Office of Health Facility Complaints. The Department of Health notified Bloomington police that there would be no investigation into the incident because Friendship Village had discharged Gagne. Police also did not look into the incident.

"There was no ongoing criminal investigation due to the nature of the complaint and the steps that had been taken to prevent further incidents regarding Mr. Gagne," according to the affidavit, which describes the assaults as "what seems to be a pattern of conduct."

Police were notified Jan. 17 that Gutmann died, and opened an active investigation into his death. Records were located within the Bloomington Police Department indicating that there were "at least" two additional incidents within the past five months "in which Vern(e) Gagne assaulted a resident of Friendship Village." The incidents were handled internally by staff at Friendship Village without police investigation, the affidavit said.

Gagne, 82, has not been charged in the death.