Dusty Rhodes: Walrus Done Wrong

Random Great American Bash clip Friday continues, Facebuster nation (alright, Wednesday, but I'm going to be on vacation over the next few days, intensively practicing my uniting towel waving in order to build up the necessary right wrist and forearm endurance to participate this year's rendition of synchronized pointlessness and wanted to throw something up Bash related for yr consideration)!!! As members of the Facebuster Sexy Action News Team witnessed firsthand (on tape) thanks to the video cassette recorder troubleshooting prowess of one Rev. Von. Fury and through the Macanudo filled haze of the Shilo Inn-Portland Airport cigar lounge at last year's Staff Conference and Fan Conclave, "The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes captured his third NWA World Heavyweight Title by defeating "Nature Boy" Ric Flair at the 1986 Great American Bash card in Greensboro, NC.

This was the payoff to Dusty's nearly three year quest to take the gold off of Flair's waste that, up until that fateful July Saturday night, had come up short each time, thwarted largely due to outside interference from the Horsemen and/or Dusty's questionable decision to book screw job, ref bump heavy "Dusty finishes" in his own title matchups.

Instead of putting up a segment from that overrated contest for you to snooze through, I thought it better to skip ahead a few weeks to August, 1986. My friends, there was no post-Bash hangover to speak of for the National Wrestling Alliance; just more hot rasslin' action, molten crowds, and compelling storylines. In fact, as you are about to see, the Flair/Horsemen-Rhodes rivalry continued to escalate. Flair had a regained the title in St. Louis a few weeks before and was about to take ownership to another of Dusty's prized possessions in Charlotte...the orifices of the tuxedo clad blond bombshell Baby Doll (I betcha' thought I was going to say Dusty's Old Country Buffet frequent grazer card. Sorry to disappoint you all, but here at Arabian Facebuster we don't take cheap shots on people for their corpulence, or for that matter their baldness, incompetence, failed business ventures, addictions to drugs or alcohol, insanity, senility, loss of bowel control, or complete lack of rasslin' competence).

Joined in progress, this was originally broadcast on the NWA's syndicated Pro Wrestling program, as evident by the yellow ring apron and the broadcast tandem of Bob Caudle-Johnny Weaver.

Enjoy.

Oh, and for those inclined to sit through about two minutes of ring introductions and another sixty seconds of watching Flair bump all over the ring to put over Dusty's decidedly non-slender offensive outburst to get to the initial Baby Doll provocation, go here.

Yr Old Skool Tag Team of the Week

The Midnight Express ("Loverboy" Dennis Condrey and "Beautiful" Bobby Eaton [in a singlet!?!?]) along with their manager James E. Cornette.

BREAKING NEWS: Farewell Horse Face

It looks like the Haylie Duff of sportz entertainment is moving onto greener pastures aka a lucrative career in indentured homemaking. According to Da Meltz:

--As noted earlier today, Lilian Garcia said that she has given notice because she is engaged and will be leaving WWE when her contract expires later this year.

Road Warrior Hawk: Full Sweater, Empty Head

Happy Random Great American Bash Clip Friday, Facebuster nation!!!

Seeing as how the month of July is rapidly approaching and my motivation to engage in productive activities at the office that do not involve professional rasslin' and/or Arabian Facebuster on a sunny, 85+ degree Friday afternoon is rapidly diminishing, I thought it fitting that Arabian Facebuster spend the next few Fridays chronicling some of the matches, feuds, angles, and promos of The Great American Bash, the National Wrestling Alliance's mid-1980s summertime venture into red state America's finest memorial coliseums, farm expo centers, and cookie cutter professional sports facilities.

The 1986 Great American Bash tour -- officially 14 cities in 30+ days with a number of spot shows thrown in for good measure -- was arguably the apex of the Crockett controlled NWA as a promotion. Hopefully you all can appreciate the magnitude of such a statement...that's right, the pinnacle of what in my loudmouthed, disgruntled, blowhard opinion was the greatest rasslin' promotion of all time.

And what a tour it was. You had "Nature Boy" Ric Flair defending the prestigious NWA World Heavyweight Wrestling Championship against all comers, from Dusty Rhodes, to Ron Garvin, to Magnum T.A., to Wahoo McDaniel, to Ricky Morton, and as you will see in the clip above, to Road Warrior Hawk. You got Magnum and Nikita waging a best of seven series for the held up United States Heavyweight Title. You had the Minnesota Wrecking Crew (Ole and Arn Anderson) wreaking havoc on the likes of Dusty Rhodes and The Rock &/or Roll Express. Tully Blanchard taking on Ron Garvin in taped fist matches. The Midnight Express and Jim Cornette battling the bootylicious Baby Doll and whatever babyface tag team combination she could implore (read: have pre-Bash carnal relations with) to be her partners. The Road Warriors against the Russians. Wahoo McDaniel challenging Jim Garvin to Indian Strap Matches around the horn. Hyperbolic, sentence fragment cheerleading and mustached, complete sentenced analysis from David Crockett and Tony Schiavone, respectively. And of course who could forget Jimmy "The Boogie Woogie" Man Valiant's protracted war with Paul Jones' Army!?!?

The clip above no doubt aired in the Philadelphia market on one of the NWA's syndicated programs (World Wide or Pro) in order to build up the big Veterans Stadium card which kicked off the 1986 tour.

Enjoy the boasts, taunts, and threats of two of the finest promo men in the history of the business!

Late Update: Arn is eluding to this incident from the autumn of 1985 in his promo.

What in the World Have We Here...Memphis Edition

What do you get when combine two beefcakes with a penchant for idling on motorcycles and old jalopies vintage hot rods, defacing an already spray paint inundated edifice, revering the Confederacy, accessorizing blue jeans with either 80s neon tops straight out of a Punky Brewester yard sale or the finest in S&M attire, interminable bicep flexing, periodic shirtlessness, and standing two feet or closer to your tag team partner at all times with the garrulous managerial stylings of one Jimmy Hart?

The Dirty White Boys, who I'm pretty sure are/were Len Denton (who spent some time in Portland and World Class under a hood as The Grappler) and Tony Anthony (who wrestled throughout the southern based territories in the 1980s and early 1990s as the Dirty White Boy).

This homoerotic Aryan supremacy oriented footage was produced by the closeted good ol' boys of the Memphis/CWA territory, circa 1983/1984. Natch.

No word on whether these guys ever got it on with The New Generation inside -- or for that matter outside -- the squared circle. Ha!

Please enjoy...on a strictly "final project for the queer studies course I am auditing at the local community college" level.

The Best of the Best

Facebuster nation, this morning in the midst of my daily beautification routine -- which includes plucking my unibrow, injecting my cheeks with collagen in the hopes of doing away with some particularly unrelenting acne craters, rinsing my teeth with bleaching gel to wipe away the previous days coffee, whiskey, tobacco, blueberry pie, and methamphetamine indulgences, and styling my chest hair to resemble that of "Dirty" Dutch Mantell's -- I realized that our hallowed virtual ground for Rocky Mountain Thunder appreciation hasn't provided our readership with any poorly stitched denim wearing, gunny sack brandishing, glaringly limited rasslin' talents rationalized and reinterpreted by Rod "Likes to Repeat the Weight and Hometown of Every Grappler Ad Nauseam" Trongard and Lee "Never Filed a WCW Monday Nitro 1-800-Collect Road Report Half-Assed or Hungover" Marshall as a quirky brand of backwoods scufflin' antics to appreciate as of late.

But thanks to the editing prowess of Youtuber browns64d, Arabian Facebuster can finally feature all of Rocky Mountain Thunder's blown spots, botched moves, and other assorted fuck ups during his two month reign of terror on the American Wrestling Association's jobber pool in one concise video package.

Enjoy.

Oh, and if you would prefer a non-Garth Brooks/nu country yet still appropriately "themed" tune to accompany all of this vintage Rocky Mountain ineptitude, mute the volume on the player above, right click here to open this clip in a new tab or window, then crank it up.

Yr Old Skool Promoter(s) of the Week

Booker extraordinaire George Scott, who cut his teeth booking for Stu Hart's Stampede Wrestling, helped transform Mid Atlantic (Jim Crockett, Sr) from a tag team based to a singles focused in the 1970s, was the matchmaking force behind the first Wrestle Mania and Saturday's Night Main Event in the Vince McMahon led World Wrestling Federation (1984-1986), and had a cup of coffee booking in the Jack Adkisson controlled World Class Championship Wrestling and Jim Crockett, Jr. controlled National Wrestling Alliance after his stint in Titanland.

Some pretty informative articles on George Scott featuring some tidbits and anecdotes on the interworkings of da business are conveniently linked for yr perusal here and here.

Killer Bee B. Brian Blair: BUZZZ-ted!!!

B. Brian Blair, everyone's favorite Killer Bee has set th' interwebs abuzz this weekend with a stinging report of his arrest! Seems all's not well back at the Blair Family Hive as his teenage kids are obviously out late perhaps flitting from flower to flower:

"According to the arrest report, Blair, shoved his son Brett in the chest at about 4am Sunday morning. When Brett tried to walk away, Blair grabbed him, punched him in the face and put him in a choke hold, the report states. He then let go of Brett, grabbed younger son Bradley by the throat and punched him, deputies said. Both sons identified their father as the person who attacked them, and Blair was taken to the Hillsborough County jail on two felony counts of child abuse.

Blair appeared in a Florida court this morning after spending last night in jail. The presiding judge in this morning's proceedings ordered Blair to be released from jail and turned over the case to the Department of Children and Families. "

Sounds like there'll soon be a swarm of reporters all over this one!

Goin' to R-A-S-S-L-I-N-!-!-!

Aw yeah...that's right, yrs truly Malibu Sands and "There's No Hulkamaniacs Here/I've Never Been Here Before/Aaah, It's Not Hot/I Know You, I Know You Too" aficionado Frogtown are once again descending upon the vaunted First Avenue mainroom for evening of live F1RST pro rasslin'! Yup, we're goin' to rasslin'!

And what a card they have assembled for the cretins, mutants, inbreds, filthy degenerates, online fantasy gamers, mom's basement dwellers, and chronic masturbators of the Twin Cities metropolitan area this evening. The lazy right eyed and as of last Saturday night former Ring of Honor Champion Jerry Lynn takes on serial Chyna poontang destroyer and caboose plower X-Pac. Flippity floopity floo on parade as Cody O'Neil battles Arik Cannon and then, win, lose, or draw, retires from squared circle competition. Also booked, Danny Havoc, who will spend 8 minutes plundering 6% Body Fat Rob James with a barrage of whimsical weaponry.

I previewed the card on da ol' Facebuster last month, so if you want to revisit some Malibu snark regarding tonight's star studded shenanigans, go here.

I'll be back this weekend or early next week with some highlights. Until then, I leave you with these introspective lyrics, set to the music of Glen Goza:

Watchin' X-Pac work free of struggle or strain, that's rasslin.

Treatin' my gullet like a Surly Furious drain, that's rasslin'.

Chantin' "show us yr birth canal"at the scantily clad valets, a truly vulgar refrain, that's rasslin'.

R-A-S-S-L-I-N that's rasslin'.

R-A-S-S-L-I-N that's rasslin'.

Why We Watch, Exhibit R

Here at Arabian Facebuster, we've been put through the sports entertainment blogosphere ringer for staking out a number of unorthodox bordering on antagonistic and antithetical opinions and assertions when it comes to this noblest of diversions. These include: (a) longing for The Animal Batista to suffer an injury that gives us a permanent sabbatical from his bulgy, veiny, kicky, punchy antics; (b) proclaiming loudly and proudly our unrequited love for Buck "Rock and/or Roll" Zumhoffe and his sparsely attended traveling rasslin' carnival featuring a gaggle of midgets and the daughter that sprung from his now sure to be calcified and atrophied loins; (c) enabling Larry Nelson's alcoholism through our incessant cheerleading of his inebriated, disheveled, and shaggy exploits; and (d) dreaming that, in the event a band of dastardly terrorists should again launch an attack inside our proud, resourceful, and woefully corpulent country, that they project their grievances, frustrations, and outrage with America's interventionist foreign policy orientation and Judeo-Christian values on TNA's Impact Zone located at Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida.

On the record, we stand by these proclamations wholeheartedly. And we would like to add another, far less contentious although certainly no less awesome proposition to this list: Watching the debonair "Handsome Half Breed" Gino Hernandez (along with his [original] "The Dynamic Duo" partner the epitome of chickenshit heeldom Tully Blanchard) obliterate the forehead of "The Ragin' Bull" Manny Fernandez via stiff right hands, vicious kicks, and with a few belt buckle shots thrown in for good measure. This footage comes from the Southwestern Championship Wrestling (San Antonio) territory (which was owned and promoted by Tully's dad Joe Blanchard), circa early 1980s.

In the sage words of the grizzled sounding play-by-play guy, this in fact will be one of the most horrible displays of sportsmanship that you will ever seen in yr life! But not to worry, for Gino and Tully will get their comeuppance soon enough.

Please enjoy this clip of the late, great Gino Hernandez...why we watch professional rasslin'.

Yr Old Skool Promoter of the Week

Sam Muchnick, who was the proprietor and promoter of the St. Louis territory from the late 1940s through the early 1980s.

Angry Samoan Does Drugs, Gets Fired.

WWE released everyones favorite "Samoan Bull-Dozer" this week because he is un-well and refuses to go to re-hab (ie: Season 9's The Biggest Loser Campus).

Yr Old Skool Promoter of the Week

Eddie Graham, wrestler, booker, promoter, and co-owner of the NWA aligned Championship Wrestling from Florida promotion, a hotbed of bloody mayhem and arguably the top territory during the 1970s.

Eddie passed away in 1985 via self-inflicted gunshot to the head.

¡Voy a hacer una Grande Mierda en tu bolsa de Gymnasio!

Fragile, Randy is not.

The Firing of Miiissstttaahh Kennedy...;...[sigh]...;...Kennedy!

Here at Arabian Facebuster, we didn't take kindly to the tribal back tattooed, oft injured, limited in-ring abilities, and all around foot inserted snugly in mouth outside of the protective bordering on smothering WWE bubble antics of one Mister Kennedy...[oh for fuck's sake]...Kennedy, seen here hopefully taking in his final gasp of air before meeting an untimely, premature, yet well earned demise. However, like this smug peroxide blond youngster's former employer -- the utterly predictable bordering on apathetic booking, status quo embracing World Wrestling Entertainment -- we wish Mr. Kennedy well in any and all of his future endeavors, assuming he survives the ensuring reptile attack.

But fret not, admirers of Kenneth's inimitable brand of sports entertainment mediocrity, for Mr. Kennedy is likely to land on his feet (albeit tearing his ACL in the process, hardy har har!) in the form of a lucrative contract with Total Nonstop Action Wrestling!, a main event babyface spot and feud with The Main Event Mafia, followed two months later with a tease of joining the very group he feuded so boringly with for all of those weeks, followed by his shockingly unshocking admission that it was all an elaborate ruse on his part to infiltrate the group's washed up, unmotivated ranks, followed by an unexpectedly expected, unpersuasively explained/justified heel turn/union with his sworn arch enemies, followed by several weeks of running roughshod through TNA's babyface ranks, followed by another momentum derailing injury and/or illicit substance related suspension, followed by a much hyped comeback interspersed with his trademark catchphrase heavy, substance light promo work, followed by pretty much a step-by-step rehash of the TNA! preferred booking scenario that I just painstakingly laid out above...but with even more whimsy.

If Nostradamus were alive today, I'm sure he'd be the first to concede that he is Arabian Facebuster's bitch when it comes to professional rasslin' related revelation and prophecy.

Yr Old Skool Promoter of the Week

Paul Boesch, who controlled rasslin' in the Houston area from the mid-1960s until his retirement from promoting in 1987.

More on Boesch and the legacy of the Houston territory can be gleamed here.

The Plot, She Thickens...

It is true, dear little ones, that this virtual plot of internet holy ground a'tween the heathen boughs and brambly branches that is the wilderness of interconnecting tubes and soulless wires known only as "The Internets", can and often does provide credible insights and time tested analysis on newsworthy or historical items of pro-wrestling merit rather than obsess over the seemingly endless antics of a certain displaced Hill-Billy family made up entirely of withered dirgibles of orange bloat be-topped with peroxided vulture nests and spray-on beards...

But one can't complain wheneth a bounty hath been layethed at our feets. Which is why the very Sexy Action News Brief splashed in the last post by the sexy and action-oriented muck-raker Malibu Sands got me a thinkin'...

No, not about how Brooke's new album cover art comes from a jail-house sketch her brother composed on a wad of half-used toilet paper, brushed in an ink made from the cafeteria's boiled beets and Nick's very own tears, but about the time during last month's Mid-West and Rocky Mountains Regions' 2nd. & 1/2 Annual Arabian FaceBuster Fan Conclave and Partial Editor's Conference when the beloved assembled there engaged in a rousing, and if hazed and be-Furioused memory serves, prolonged and engaged session in which we tried to guess/remember/blurt-out the proper name of one 19-year old Linda Hogan boy-toy, with the winnner/rememberer immediately to be hustled up the stratospheric stairs of stately Malibu Manner and hastily situated infront of an awaiting "10ft. Challenge".

Charlie! Her 19yr. old boy-toy that likes to drive around Hulk's Hummers is called Charlie! Yes, you remember, but it sadly is no longer the 2.5 A.A.F.B.F.C.&P.E.C. and you are shit therefore out of luck. No 10ft. Challenge for you. You should have been there. Tough.

Anywhoo, Charlie it seems, is bound for big things: (from Linda's rep.@ Global PR Inc. via email to straight hating queer-monger Perez Hilton)

As for Charlie, he is an accomplished Spring board diver (4th in the Nationals), eagle scout and certified captain in commercial boating with his bigger goal of joining the fire department.

A Spring Board Diver! 4th. in the Nationals!! Boing-Boing!!! Eagle Scout! I'm sure Linda can attest faithfully to his Knot-Tying and Pledge-Recitin' Skills! Enough of Charlie's illustrious past, it seems that folks over there at Global PR Inc. think that Linda Hogan's barely legal bit o' cougar-bait can...wait for it.....SING!!!!

And Charlie's gonna do it too, even if it means putting aside his paramedic/ firefighting career path to do it, he will cut an album... All because that stupid slut and Hulkster-with a weave- Brooke won't zip her baggie rapper pants unzippering lips! Break it down Global PR Inc.:

If Brooke continues to spew lies on behalf of her father's lame attempt to distance himself from the reality that he is no different from the homicidal OJ Simpson, (OJ!? OH ZING!!) Charlie will be forced to put aside his paramedic/firefighting career path and release an album called "Redemption" which will easily surpass any of Brooke's records sales.

Hmmm. Redemption? Redemption.....sounds vaguely familiar... almost like something I saw that had something to do with Sexy Action, and News..... Ah-HA! No, wait. Does this really mean that Charlie is going to also call his so-called album "Redemption", almost but not quite like how Brooke is calling her so-called album "The Redemption"?

I don't understand this at all. These people are beyond redemption. Brooke Hogan could drop a giant Cleveland Steamer on Hulk Hogan's rapidly withering orange tinted chest and I still don't think she would have even blown out the birthday candles of redemption for this little number:

Brooke Hogan: Same Old Shit, Different Song Titles

Facebuster nation, I have a sneaking suspicion that my Sexy Action News Team credentials would be revoked lest I did not at least note in passing that the cover of Brooke Hogan's new album The Redemption was revealed this week.

From my understanding, the album's (and by album I mean collection of overly produced, repetitive, predictable, derivative songs written not by Brooke, but for Brooke on topics of import such as 22" rims, diamond encrusted grillz, jumbo sized silicon implants, thuggin' it on South Beach, hustlin' for the benjamins in da hoods of suburban Tampa Bay, DRAMA!!!, BOYZ!!!!, and playahata's [I'm still awaiting confirmation if Arabian Facebuster is the subject of a hidden bonus diss track]) title was a compromise after weeks 17 minutes of intensive contestation between the record executives with Brooke and her OJ Simpson level of violence minus the white 86 Ford Bronco, carefully polished Bruno Mali's, or any pretense of innocence or remorse pledging father.

I have a obtained a leaked, classified document from an anonymous record industry low-life which lists some of the alternative album titles that were scrapped. Based solely on the title was ultimately selected, I suspect it was the Hogan family that prevailed in this dispute.

Brooke Hogan: Airbrushed Cherubic Clown Whore;
Brooke Hogan: Now with 50% Less Ogleable Genitalia;
Brooke Hogan: Has A Signature That Appears Easier to Forge Than it Actually is;
Brooke Hogan: What the Hulkster Wishes His Daughter Looked Like;
Brooke Hogan: Yr Scrotum is Showing;
Brooke Hogan: Toned Body, Neglected Head;
Brooke Hogan: Big Fan of Mystical Unicorn Art.

Yr Buck Wild Foto of the Week

Buck "Rock & Roll" Zumhoffe launches an aerial assault against his opponent whilst a gaggle of bar patrons look on disinterestedly.

Reflections on WGN WWE Superstars: "Tommy Dreamer is DEAD..."

... or more likely Tommy Dreamer is now one of the UN-DEAD, as evidenced tonight by the unfortunate shuffling his corpse is doing in its title match against Christian for the ECW belt (Now! with 167% more bird!!).

Your Hnrble. Rev. feeleth good, Superstars good... After one entire beer be-guzzled & braut debauched week of Fan Conclaving and Editorial Archive VHS Video Conferencing deep in the shuttered depths that is Malibu Sands' Minneapolis/ St. Paul Minnesota ManCave, I have finally emerged re-born (ie: no longer hungover) and bathed in the a rightous light (ie: finally took a shower) to proclaim: The 2nd & 1/2 Annual Arabian FaceBuster Mid-Western and Rocky Mountain States' Fan Conclave and Partial-Editors Conference an "El Gigante-Huge"- Huge Success!!!

So successful was the A.A.F.B.F.C.&E.C. ver.2.5 that I'm feelin' sassy! Sassier than sitting across from a kicked Blackie Carmine with a hand-full of dollar bills!! So sassy in fact I think I'll watch an entire episode of this week's brand-new edition of WGN WWE Superstars!!!

3 matches: one hour, no backstage shenanigans, no diva whimsy, no McMahons.... this might just work... its a Thursday night at 6pm, its time for Supah-Stahhhs!!!

Back to the Action! Seriously, TDream is moving like he's got rocks in his socks, X'tian not so much better. Who or What is this?!?! Jack SWAGGAAR... and he's WALKIN'

Anywho, its a "No Contest" even though Christian is the one who collared Swagger over the top rope and into the ring, thus precipitating the "ding-ding-ding" and the retention of his title... but NO! Zombie Dreamer is ALIVE! and it wants that birdy belty-belty so it grabs its like its it who won it and now the corpse is in a tug-a-war with Christian over the belt!

Seriously, would Tommy Dreamer after all his years, well all his years sans bamboo caning to tha' 'noggin, really think a title would change hands with a ruling of "No Contest"?? Not unless he was a Zombie. Or Dead.

Think about it.

Koffi Kinston-mon vs. The Man's Man Bill Regal

Koffi should have won the Money in the Bank. W.dubuyou.Eee could have made him the first black man ever to win the briefcase, cash it in for his championship shot, and lose.

Punchy Hurty vs. Flippy Kicky: Works well as Regal fears not the flippity floppity floo of the Ghana-born Jamacan native. Koffi crisp as hell as Lawler comments on his smile, here's hoping he never loses it! King says something to the fact that Koffi always looks happy... Well, don't they all?

Decent match. Regal more than willing to make Koffi look good, seeking good contact for every spot. Better than what either of 'em usually get to do on RAW, probably 'cause they got more time to do it. Koffi in, uh, like 8.5 minutes maybe.

Y2J vs CM PUNK

- Jericho is blaming the media for a vast Conspiracy Theory that is being used to keep him down. Nice.

- "athletcally arrogant" JR on Y2J.

- I hate the Go To Sleep. And the Go To Bed.

Punk wins with an inside cradle counter roll up off an attempted Walls of Jericho YJT used after he countered a GTS attempt with a roll up into said Walls.

Nice. Nice.

Each match longer than the usual outing. A better spotlight on some upper-mid, lower top-card action, amazingly none of the usual PPV/ RAW/ SmackDown recap/ promo/ highlight/ recap/ promo/ rinse/ wash/ promo filler, and not a trace of Santino or the other Divas.

All in all, an hour could be worst spent, such as the one your dearest Rev. and Mousier Malibu unfortunately endured this past week late one night during one of the many Editorial Archive VHS Video Conferences watching the proverbial gild come off the lilly that used to be the greatness that I previously though was Cactus Jack vs. Triple H in Madison Square Garden at the 2000 Royal Rumble (check @ 1:12 to see the real bat get spirited away under the spanish announce table and again @ 1:55 to see C.Jack retrieve the new "barbed wire" bat out and finally unleash it to "devastating" effect on H's ambitiously bladed, frmr. hermaphrodite and presently bosses-daughter fucking candy ass).

Superstars. Me Likey.

the rev.

The Return for The Return!?

Oh my! In addition to X-Pac vs. Jerry Lynn meeting for the first time in probably fifteen or so years in the Twin Cities metropolitan area, Cody O'Neil wrestles his final match ever (yeah, I bet) against longtime rival Arik Cannon, Double U See U Double U quasi diva and current whimsical goth TNA Knockout Daffney flaunts her surgically enhanced floppers, and plunder waylaying sensation Danny Havoc shows up to hit some guys with a cookie sheet, trash can lid, and unloaded staple gun and collect 3% of the gate.

Folks, we're talking gross, not net!

Gentlemen and random cabin fatty Facebuster groupies, might this not warrant a reconvening of our 2nd and 1/2 annual Facebuster Conference/Conclave!? On second thought, probably not, seeing as that the 3rd annual, Portland based gathering of the superstars of Arabian Facebuster is right around the corner...

Details soon.

Yr Buck Wild Foto of the Week

Buck "Rock and Roll" Zumhoffe applies a side headlock in a match that may or may not have taken place in the basement of Malibu Manor during the Surly Furious, Town Hall IPA growlers, 'Bou juice, and sweet sweet kang fueled 2nd and 1/2 Annual Arabian Facebuster Staff Conference and Fan Conclave.

If anybody's got a spare liver laying around, let me know.

"The Journey Begins..."

From its tamper-evident, hermetically sealed sanctuary of the Rev. von Fury's humble sock drawer high in the mountains of Idaho, "The Prize" begins its epic cross-country sojurn across this great Nation of ours to the bustling metropolis known as Minneapolis/ St. Paul and into the hands of one Malibu Sands....

Now This is How U Declare War

Where was this clip of Jimmy Valiant doing his best Colonel Kurtz impression when Arabian Facebuster was immersed in its long, hard slog against World Wrestling Entrainment and Total Nonstop Action for perpetrating sportz entertainment atrocities against the fans of professional rasslin'?

Gentlemen, not unlike our country's initial blitzkrieg then quagmire in Iraq, we might need to once again declare some war against WWE; with the justification this time being its incessant pushing of lugs "The Animal" Batista and The Big Shew in the main event and semi-main event pictures...so long as we wait until after the 2nd and 1/2 annual Arabian Facebuster Staff Conference and Fan Conclave to launch our opening salvo.

Waging war's a bitch when yr in a state of perpetual drunkenness.

Yr Buck Wild Foto of the Week

Buck "Rock and Roll" Zumhofe is headed to the ring(?) in what appears to be the receiving dock of pet food outlet center somewhere in rural Minnesota or western Wisconsin.

Jimmy Valiant Fears Stasis

Facebustermaniacs, it's been far too long since yr go to interwebs site for unapologetic Hulk Hogan and family exploits chastisement, Larry Nelson drinking problem admiration, Rocky Mountain Thunder whereabouts and gunny sack contents speculation, Randy Orton fecal matter in gym bag references, Teddy Hart documentary worship, Chyna and X-Pac erogenous zone descriptions, piss poor WrestleMania predictions, intoxicated live PPV coverage by members of our Sexy Action News Team, and Macho Man Randy Savage tasseled ring attire procurement has featured some -- with apologies to Buck Zumhoff -- good ol' fashion rock n' roll in our content.

That is until now...well not now as is now; but now as in whenever you get around to hitting play on and giving yr undivided attention to the clip above.

In the spirit of Bill Dundee, The Rock and/or Roll Express, the Wrestle Rock Rumble, and the flaming queens in the New Generation, Arabian Facebuster is proud to present another classic rasslin' video featuring the exploits of Jimmy "Boogie Woogie Man" Valiant in Memphis and the Carolinas, circa 1984. For the sake of posterity, these exploits would include goofy face makin', headbangin', hand clappin', dancin', watchin' airplanes take off and land at several points of observation, prostitute solicitin', clubberin' the likes of The Assassins (the rotund, masked gentlemen in the yellow & black bodysuits) and Ken Patera with an arsenal of meekly delivered forearms, punches, and elbow smashes...and of course boogie-woogin'!

Whatever the fuck that is.

Reason #117 to Despise Hulk Hogan...

...For demonstrating a full range of movement, motion, and head contortions while trying to sell a serious neck injury during this hackneyed, unintentionally hilarious, monster truck showdown promoting, PastaMania! not yet insolvent era babyface promo on The (big, no good, nasty, stinky, and allegedly wart infested) Giant, (pint sized, fragrant, clear skinned) Kevin Sullivan, and their inept eradication of Hulkamania aspiring enterprise otherwise known as the Dungeon of Doom (or as the Hulkster likes to refer to them as, the Dungeon of Goons, brother!).

To the Hulkster's *shudder* credit, however, he has provided me with the perfect retort for anytime anyone questions my whereabouts or second guesses my actions or decisions: "Well you know [insert name of person forced to endure my demented ramblings], they thought we were dead but we're not even down and out, brother!"

Point: Malibu!

Ditto to employing the whole "64, 65 neck lifts" shtick when a non-cabin fatty saunters on by when I'm feebly attempting do crunches at the gym. Or when I'm doing Riunite shots during next week's 2nd and 1/2 Annual Arabian Facebuster Staff Conference and Fan Conclave.

Brooke Hogan: Aging Horribly

Ye-gads!!! This is a photo of a haggard, melanoma skinned, stupefied Brooke Hogan at her 21st birthday party earlier this week at Caesars Palace, Las Vegas.

Through the wonders of Arabian Facebuster's cutting edge aging simulation technology, here is what we project Brooke Hogan will look like at 22, 30, 40, 50, and finally 65 years old.

If These Trunks Could Talk...

Whoa- look at all this Randy Savage ring gear for sale on eBay! Perhaps even the former "Macho King" is not impervious to the impact of these troubled economic times. One day you're enjoying a spirited round of croquet with Robin Leach on your expansive estate, the next pandering to pathetic collectors hoping that they will plunk down their hard earned dough for one of your neon checkered cowboy hats.

Well, this pathetic collector wants a piece of the action! What do you say fellows, shall we chip in on this stunning ensemble? While we might not be able to afford it individually, this vision of tasselled glory is well within our collective grasp. Malibu Sands can have custody this spring in order to welcome the throngs of eager attendees to the 2 and 1/2 Annual Arabian Facebuster Staff Conference and Fan Conclave in lovely St. Paul, MN. This summer, the elite of Sun Valley will be abuzz as the Reverend Von Fury gallivants about town in Savage's stunning attire. As for the fall and winter, Apollo Spas and I will have to share custody in Portland: I'll take Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and alternating Sundays. Inquiries from any other prospective shareholders are welcomed.

Look, I understand that times are tight. I don't expect anyone to make any unreasonable sacrifices (i.e. beer) to make this dream a reality. Taking a cue from the Savage's Macho Enterprises, we can profit from our own ever-burgeoning Internet celebrity with a little sidewalk sale of our own. I'll go first:

This historic pair of khaki Dockers features a worn back pocket, authentic pastor burrito grease spots, and is autographed by yours truly.

The bidding begins at $25 dollars, but I am willing to accept Hamm's tall boys in trade. Dig it!!!

Yr Buck Wild Foto of the Week

This month, Arabian Facebuster is proud to pay tribute to Buck "Rock and Roll" Zumhofe by way of a penetrating, riveting, bewildering, and at times deeply disturbing photographic expose.

Before we delve further into the mire that are Buck's more recent wrestling related shenanigans and in order to put the next month's worth of homage paying, gentle mocking, and beleaguered readership into some context, let's kick this off with a look at the "Rock and Roller" in early-to-mid 1980s.

Why We Watch, Exhibit I.3

Don't let Larry Nelson's baggy eyes, shaggy hair, mouthing of the script, and all around haggard malaise distract you, let alone the presence and non-contributions of tag team partner Doug "Pretty Boy" Summers and manager Sherri Martel, this clip is all about the swagger of "Playboy" Buddy Rose, a grandiosity, vanity, overconfidence, and conceit that he conveyed so effortlessly and vividly (and I'm sure took absolute pleasure in doing so) throughout his career.

Enjoy.

RIP -- "Playboy" Buddy Rose

One of the mainstays of the Portland wrestling territory is gone, but most certainly will not be forgotten.

Apollo's most excellent depiction on Mr. Perschmann's inimitable style and pomposity can be enjoyed here.

What In The World Have We Here, Part 2

A glossy eyed, yet to de-pants Buck "Rock and Roll" Zumhoffe-refereeing a match between a midget in a pair of Payless Shoe Source sneakers and a only slightly taller chick wearing moccasin boots-in a compact ring erected in the middle of a prairie-on a mat that may or may not be a water bed-surrounded by seating constructed out of boards and cinder blocks-at the town of Webster Minnesota's 2007 Harvest Days Festival-which appears to have been attended by a total of zero people.

Have I mentioned to you all lately how much I love professional rasslin'?

BREAKING NEWS: Reid Flair is Fucked, Allegedly

It's been a busy day here in the Arabian Facebuster Sexy Action Newsroom, first the unexpected resurrection of Hulk Hogan's Pastamania -- well the awning anyway and to a lesser extent the spirit of mediocrity and gouging the consumer on which it was founded -- followed by its equally sudden demise (yet again), and now this:

WSOC-TV in Charlotte reported Reid Fliehr (Flair) was arrested yesterday on felony charges of heroin possession after Charlotte-Mecklenburg police claimed they found heroin in his car when he was pulled over. The 21-year-old Fliehur was also charged with driving while impaired and driving with a revoked license.

Based upon his brief, glaringly green run in the dying days of the Double U See Double U, who'd have thunk that David Flair would turn out to be the most mature, responsible, successful, and stable of the Flair litter?