11th Hour Entry

Although our search for the next World's Worst Worker is winding down, last minute enteries into this sweepstakes of atrociousness and talentlessness abound.

The latest nomination: Any and all six-man tag team contest where The American Starship spend the bulk of the match on the apron, apply only their vice like headlock maneuver during their brief tenure in the ring, defer to great big fatsos like The Assassin Number 1, The Super Assassin, and Zambouie Express members Kareem Muhammad and Elijah Akeem to carry the action, and leave the crowd in a decidedly non-electric or frenzied state. David Crockett's rather flat affect and lack of amazement, preoccupation, and infatuation with the raw power, chiseled physiques, and tandem shirtlessness of Eagle and Coyote tells the story.

We'll be announcing our winner next week in a contrived, self-congratulatory 60 minute video special entitled THE DECISION. To paraphrase David Crockett in giddier and bi-curious times, we hope that you WATCH IT!!!!

This Saturday...

...yours truly...

...Malibu Sands...

is going to...RASSLIN!!!...

...Cheering Rocky Mountain Thunder as he scuffles barefoot without pain, that's RASSLIN...Listening to Glen Goza as he butchers the refrain, that's RASSLIN...Watching Marty Jannetty flush his career down the drain, that's RASSLIN...Hanging with Gino Hernandez as snorts a sugar bowl full of cocaine, that's RASSLIN...

...R-A-S-S-L-I-N that's RASSLIN!

LIVE this Saturday night...The superstars of the IWA! Including but most certainly not limited to something called "7 Feet of Sexy" Patrick Lomax!?!? In a venue dubiously named "The Basement Bar" in downtown Prior Lake, MN!!! That's right, yrs truly Malibu Sands along with one Vixie Viscosinator will be donning our respective Schmidt's Beer and John Deere hats to commemorate this ideal occasion for drinking oneself into a delirious stupor and slurring sentiments at our fellow bar patrons best left unslurred.

And this most gawkable Arabian Facebuster Sexy Action News Team (Senior) Correspondent has got you covered, Facebuster Nation. For I'll be providing live, streaming, and an arguably steaming pile of coverage of all of the audibly called and/or blown spots, unimaginative gimmicks, overbooked shenanigans, paint by numbers attempts to generate a semblance of crowd heat/interest, dirtball fan antics, and evening beer specials via my twitter feed.

So on Saturday night, follow my shit. It behooves you.

For I'm going to RASSLIN...R-A-S-S-L-I-N that's RASSLIN...

Yr Old Skool Foto of the Week (Japan Edition)

Nick Bockwinkel and Harley Race. Bonus picture of Kamala unleashing a blood curdling howl in the bottom left corner.

Friday Night Videos: Back in the Saddle Again

After about 30 seconds of research and planning, I have decided to bring Friday Night Videos back into the Arabian Facebuster fold for the month of November.

I apologize for springing this on you without warning and realize that you might be a case of cheap beer, stack of Bu$ted Papers, and 100 stones of cabin fatty short for maximum rasslin' enjoyment.

For this week, try to make the best out of it.

The snow on the ground notwithstanding, this action likely emanates from the southeastern United States sometime in the mid-to-late 1980s. The promotion: Possibly the ICW; not to be confused with the IPW. The match: "The Universal Heartthrob" Austin Idol, whose lack of presence and inclusion in this Arabian Facebuster Project speaks more to my negligence than to his worthiness as a catalyst for compelling blog fodder, taking on tireless public library advocate and anti-teenage drinking crusader Ox Baker.

The wrestling itself is in the World's Worst Worker pantheon of sloppiness and fakery, more so due to Baker's deteriorating health, expanding waistline, lethargic movement, and geriatric status than the talents and effort of The Universal Heartthrob. But before more spots can be botched and punches pulled, Kevin Sullivan and The Purple Haze (Mark Lewin) hit the ring to put us out of our misery.

BUT WAIT!!! Black Jack Mulligan's sparring partner, on-again off-again gay lover, and 1/2 of the greatest suicide PSA tag team ever assembled Jumpin' Joe Savoldi has joined the fracas. And wouldn't you know it, he is a HOUSE OF FIRE of the southpaw and high flying variety.

The ring announcer dressed in a red sequin jacket, horrible arena acoustics/indecipherable pre-match interview, tubby referee, plethora of unoccupied folding chairs, and smattering of red necks both in the ringside area and in the parking lot only serve to enhance the sordid and rather sorry spectacle.

Or as it's referred to as in the ICW: Total Mayhem.

The Great Doc Hendrix Freakout of 1995

Facebuster Nation, this clip from the mid-1990s World Wrestling Federation warrants yr undivided consideration for the following three reasons:

(1) Vince McMahon and Jerry "The King" Lawler at the announcing table adorned in attire one would typically associate with a gay rodeo star.
(2) The kid in a Magic 8 Ball hat that seems to have made a sign endorsing the shtick of one Double JJ via catchphrase reprinting.
(3) Doc Hendrix, also dressed to the nines in steer riding semi-formal wear, doing his best to summarize the latest developments in the whole Double JJ-Roadie fissure after simultaneously snorting approximately 1 kilo of cocaine and dropping 1/2 a sheet of acid.

Pay close attention to Doc Hendrix's overwrought, frantic, and disorganized approach to reporting. For it's what we members of the Arabian Facebuster Sexy Action News Team refer to as muckraking journalism at its finest.

As if We Needed Another Reason....

Congratluations Linda McMahon...

...on yr resounding repudiation and electoral thrashing at the hands of Richard Blumenthal. In retrospect, it seems yr campaign strategy of rallying the acolytes in the WWE Universe to put you over the top was tactically erroneous, seeing as how: (1) You were running to be the state of Connecticut's Senator, not the WWE Universes'; (2) Yr family sports entertainment conglomerate has driven so many eligible voters away from its product with (a) focus on appealing and marketing to adolescents and teenagers over degenerate Joey Schlong Cuts and Tommy Meth Labs such as the scribes and consumers of Arabian Facebuster ; (b) the directionless, purposeless, stale, homogeneous, and superficially wholesome state of yr matches, characters, and storylines. Hopefully World Wrestling Entertainment will heed and operationalize yr campaign slogan in an expeditious fashion.

We wish you all of the best in your future endeavors.

Reason #6 to Depise Hulk Hogan

In preparing my latest (but by no means last) tirade against the scourge on our polity otherwise known as Hulk Hogan, I unearthed this clip from the Dungeon of Doom running roughshod over the game yet never quite on the same page babyface alliance of Hogan, Savage, Sting, and Luger era of Double U See Double U.

It is from Hogan's brief DARK SIDE period and just too campy, ludicrous, and mind bending not to include as its own blog entity and demonstration of Hogan's inanity and "self-awarelessness." Enjoy this glimpse into the demented mind of Phantom of The Opera yard sale shopper Hulk Hogan. Oh, it almost goes without saying that this Hogan interview vacillates (albeit seamlessly) between a standard Hogan promo (with about 15% more sinsterness) and Hogan auditioning for the role of Hamlet (or possibly King Lear) at the community playhouse.

Almost.

Please also file this post under Happy Belated Halloween Wishes from Arabian Facebuster.

Reason #1 to Despise Our World's Worst Worker Search

Facebuster Nation, for four years now, I've been warning you that Hulk Hogan is a glory hog, a Rasputin, a snake oil salesmen, a dissolute, a scam artist, a craven albeit master manipulator, a narcissist, an enabler, a huckster, a habitual liar, a hypocrite, a back stabber, an unmitigated and spectacular failure as both a father and husband, a piece of trash, a mindless blatherer and egomaniacal twitter video uploader, and to paraphrase a line from an enraged Magnum T.A., quite possibly the lowest form of scum walkin' on God's green Earth.

Well now the Hulkster has thrown his hat (worn to cover up his baldness) and easy rip t-shirt of suckitude in our World's Worst Worker ring.

And wouldn't you know it, he gets not one but two You Too clips to support his highly convincing case. The clip above features the Hulkster botching the timing of the most basic of offensive maneuver and one of about four wrestling holds actually in his repertoire -- a clothesline -- against "The Model" Rick Martel. At first glance, it might appear that Martel is at fault. But look closer...Hogan delivers/applies the move in the exact spot where Martel is too far from the ropes to tumble over or through them, but too close to the ropes to take a standard bump.

The clip below features the Hulkster in his finest hour of atrociousness, meticulously chronicled here at Arabian Facebuster: His asinine and excruciatingly drawn out feud with Kevin Sullivan's Dungeon of Doom that featured a smashed up motor cycle, monster truck battle on the roof of the hockey arena in Detroit, the increasingly insane antics of Hogan wing man Randy "Macho Man" Savage, a highly amusing mustache shaving, and lots of corny promos and campy super villains hellbent on the destruction of Hulkamania, circa 1995/1996. While this video is of a post match scrum as opposed to an actual match, Hogan's terribleness is on full display for all to witness, from his highly telegraphed and exaggerated right haymakers delivered directly onto his left hand which is being used to hold and position his victim's cranium, to his plodding selling of the Giant's beatdown, to pretty much any and all of his facial expressions and hand gestures of moral outrage.



Special bonus appearance by the block of ice which contains The Yetti for those of you that are able to see the clip through to its uninteresting conclusion.

Gentlemen, I think we might have a winner.

Yr Old Skool Foto of the Week (AWA Edition)

Dr. X (aka The Destroyer aka Dick Beyer) wrestles and films! I also submit this photo as proof that Verne Gagne was a frugal bordering on miserly promoter.

Jimmy Valiant...I Don't Know What to Make of This...

"The Boogie Woogie" Man Jimmy Valiant:

(a) Has pent up and unresolved issues involving his father's gray hairs and curious vocational choice of driving his son around in a limo, if his Tom Waits like gravelly vocal and lyrical stylings are to be believed;
(b) Is from the kinky, sexually depraved, and geriatrically oriented school of polygamy;
(c) For reasons inadequately explained, needs black folks to help him find his BFF Leroy "Soul Man" Jenkins, the whitest guy you'll ever meet;
(d) Is renting to own a motorcycle that doesn't actually run and is only another 224 payments of $49.95 away from making that dream a reality;
(e) Better guard that bike, for "Rowdy" Roddy Piper is liable to steal it and trade it in for a modest size pile of low-grade cocaine.

Discuss.

Yr Old Skool Foto of the Week (All Japan Edition)

Bruiser Brody & Stan Hansen

BREAKING NEWS: WWE PPV in MPLS Toinight!

And yrs truly Malibu Sands did not realize that the "Bragging Rights" Pay Per View was happening in my beloved metropolitan area until I walked past a WWE vehicle parked in front of the Target Center in downtown Minneapolis late last night. No doubt that said vehicle was driven from point A to point B by a card carrying member of the WWE Universe.

To say that the town is buzzing over this event would be a vast overstatement. Nobody is talking about it. And other than guys with short arms and blubbery rumps, ladies with fanny packs being held in place via rotund protruding bellies, and adolescents with complexions that range from pizza faced to crater faced, nobody cares.

Me and my fellow Minnesotans will be doing what we do best...sitting in our Barcaloungers, getting blotto as we watch the Vikings go down in defeat to our bitter Sconie rivals.

Or as we native born Minnesotans like to call it, an annual right of passage.

Oh the Plot! See How She Thickens...

DATELINE: CONNECTICUT, USA: PLANET EARTH

The Washington Post is reporting that Conn. Democratic State Party SpokesLady Kate Hansen (not of the Stan varietals) is none too pleased with one Vincent Kennedy McMahon's recent proboscis sticking into his onetime wheelchair bound formerly pharmaceutically induced stupified wife's United States Senatorial campaign.

Hansen & The Connecticut State Dems. have called on the Federal Election Commision to investigate the potentially illegal consorting of Vinnie's multi-million $$ corporation & the Senate Campaign of the missus.

“Linda McMahon’s $50 million attack machine now has corporate reinforcements, thanks to the ‘Stand up for WWE’ campaign launched by her husband Vince McMahon. No coincidence, it looks a lot like her political campaign... except this one is probably against the law.”

“Linda McMahon’s claim that her husband’s aggressive public relations campaign is independent of her own political campaign is unbelievable, particularly after Vince McMahon specifically cites the Senate race as the reason for the offensive" said Kate (not-Stan)Hansen.

The Conn.Dems assert the collusion betwixt corporate McMahon & U.S. Senate candidate McMahon

"Represents one of the most brazen and overt attempts by a single corporation to influence a single federal election in modern political history".

Brazen & Overt?! The WWE?!?

No chance. No chance in Hell.

Thought Bubble, Ctd

It seems as though World Wrestling Entertainment is preoccupied with getting Linda McMahon elected to the U.S. Senate at the expense of presenting a credible, compelling, and entertaining rasslin' product.

Is This Really Happening? Really?

I mean really? Really.

Jumpin' Jeff Farmer: House Cleaner

Facebuster Nation, I apologize for the drop off in routine, top notch blog content (heretofore referred to as blogtent for purposes of expediency) over recent weeks. Obviously, our time together is dwindling rapidly. In fact, in order to monitor the time until our beloved Arabian Facebuster Project's inevitable day of reckoning, I am borrowing The National Wave's countdown clock, used by that ill conceived event's organizers to calculate the days until the commencement of cancellation of out of sync and utterly pointless hanky undulation.

We've still got a lot to cover over the next 2 1/2 months...the search for Rocky Mountain Thunder's successor as the World's Worst Worker...more insights into the feuds, grapplers, angles, promotions, and peculiarities that have made us fans of THE professional rasslin'...a cavalcade of jobbers getting squashed for our bemusement...music videos from Memphis...Gail Gagne's looming trial on charges of criminal sexual conduct...*crosses fingers* Hogan Family Death Pool resolution...and of course the drugged up yet somehow still grounded rantings of, as far as yrs truly Malibu Sands is concerned, Arabian Facebuster's 2010 Blogtent MVP: Jimmy "The Boogie Woogie Man" Valiant!!!

Oh, and I almost forgot! More white hot action and cutthroat promos from the soooupa staaahhs of the IPW.

Much, much more.

So without any further ado, let's get back into it by watching the highly combustible Jumpin' Jeff Farmer-Motley Cruz and Richie Rouge-that big, nasty, wart infested Bulldozer situations blow up like a great big ol' stick of dynamite!!!...assuming of course the stick of dynamite was (a) untalented; and (b) woefully out of shape.

I'm going to utilize a FACT or FICTION narrative device in order to offer and organize my thoughts on this fracas...

FACT (0:06-0:16): Motley Cruz has the face and hair of "Gorgeous" Jimmy Garvin and the fat ass of every wrestler of Samoan lineage since 1953.

FICTION (0:30): Richie Rouge's textbook dropkick proves that he is indeed a master craftsmen of the squared circle.

FICTION (0:58): The IPW does not pipe in canned noise during post-production. They don't need to, what with rabid enthusiasm of the capacity crowd and the electric atmosphere that comes from holding yr cards in a dimly lit elementary school cafeteria.

FACT (1:04): Bulldozer's "chain" bears a striking resemblance to a leather belt.

FACT (1:23): Jumpin' Jeff Farmer might want to rethink his trunks choice of red spandex bike shorts.

FICTION (1:33): Rob Van Dam throws a stiffer looking punch than Jumpin' Jeff Farmer.

FACT (1:42): The preferred way to throw Motley Cruz out of the ring is to have something called Odell Buckingham deliver a forearm shot to the back of his neck.

FICTION (1:52): "Exciting action" and "Pandemonium" are the phrases which most accurately describe the IPW's in-ring product.

Yr Old Skool Foto of the Week (UWF Edition)

"Hot Stuff" Eddie Gilbert and "Captain Redneck" Dick Murdoch make a pact to terrorize the Universal Wrestling Federation as Jim Ross looks on, circa 1987.

In Tribute to America, Ctd

Come next Sept 11, I'm totally wearing this shirt whilst watching the Jeff Jarrett video ad nauseam and airing of my grievances and disdain towards the man responsible for the atrocities perpetrated that fateful morn across the infotainment superhighway.

Mr. Fuji: Sinister. Devious. Indecipherable.

While I am uncertain as to the specifics of Mr. Fuji's no doubt well laid and diabolical plans for his smirking and menacing hand gesturing Orient Express tag team to overcome the formidable glasnost inspired combination and flag waving slash crowd pandering antics of Hacksaw Jim Duggan and Nikolai Volkoff, I am certain that Mr. Fuji's tuxedo is vastly superior to Sean Mooney's in thread count, distinguishment, dapperness, fire retardantness, and overall wearability.

I am also certain that wasn't the first time a woman rebuffed the advances and slammed a door in the face of "Mean" Gene Okerlund.