The Issue #17
By: Bryon Frazier
November 20, 2004
I believe it was 2 weeks ago when Eric Bischoff decided to take the night off on Raw, and the Inmates Were Running the Asylum™, as Good Ol' JR kept reminding me all night. I remember figuratively leaning over to Chris F-B and suggesting that it'd be a good idea for him to just quit and let the new Raw storyline be a world a chaos with no official director of mayhem. Instead let the various rasslers form their own alliances and use the ring as a place to work out some issues. Eventually Evolution would establish themselves and Triple H could book various jobbers to fill ring time for his entertainment, not unlike the Roman emperors' use of the Coliseum. It was at this point in my imaginative process that I realized that I was just describing the current climate of Raw, and I think we're looking for change, not more of the same. Of course, the truth is that nothing will change until it has to. Hunter Helmsley is the boss's son-in-law so he isn't going anywhere. In fact, the only time he'll ever lose the belt in the future will be when he feels like taking another step closer to eclipsing Ric Flair's claim of being a 16-time World Champion.
If you expend too much brain power on the plight of the World Wrestling Wildlife Fund Entertainment League of Xtreme Bodybuilding, you only depress yourself while threatening to destroy your capacity to think. It really is better to resign yourself to the fact that this is how it is, and this is how it's going to be. They have all the money they need to stay this course, so if you want to enjoy the product that you find on your television set during the week, it's up to you to choose that which brings you joy. For me, it's women's wrestling and Gene Snitsky. Don't laugh, it's true. I'm one of the few women's wrestling fans because, for one reason, I love underdogs. I know that the general wrestling public doesn't like watching women grapple unless it involves the removal of clothing, and that the net marks simply think that women in the ring are a sin against the purity and sanctity of the world's sleaziest industry this side of pornography. Therefore, I'm always cheering the women on in the hopes that they'll impress both groups of wrestling fans with their in-ring performances. Like with most underdogs they usually fail, but they rarely completely disappoint, and this is one place where moral victories are worth something. There hasn't been an incident like Gayda '02 since . . . well, 2002. This is a sign of improvement, and if there's nothing else that I love to watch, it is to see people get better at their occupation. For instance, with the exception of her superficial assets, Trish Stratus was utterly unwatchable for the first few years of her employment with the WWWFELXB. She was simply not a wrestler and she couldn't cut a promo for all the Mounties in Canada. Compare that to her work on Raw these days and, as Gorilla Monsoon might've said, it's literally night and day. It might not seem like much to others, but these are some of the reasons why I enjoy women's wrestling, which helps me to enjoy Raw each week.
Of course, I also mentioned that I enjoy the man known as Snitsky. He's like Brock Lesnar from a few years ago: in this quagmire of the same shit, different year, there is at least one man that is new and different. Snitsky is a breath of fresh air. I don't consider him to be a great wrestler, nor is he a poet on the microphone, but he is something that most of the other workers are not: entertaining. It doesn't make sense because he's really just another roided freak that the company has loved to employ for decades (and for decades to come, if this year's Tough Enough is any indicator), so what sets him apart? Answer? Charisma. There was a hack of a writer on this very site who tried to argue that Gene Snitsky has no charisma, but I am here to set him straight. This man is brimming with the stuff, but not all charisma translates to riveting mic work. Just look at Goldberg, who I felt was one of the more charismatic wrestlers out there, but it was simply not a good business decision to give him air time to cut a promo. Charisma transcends mere words coming from someone's mouth. Snitsky took a truly campy, bush league concept like punting a baby doll into the crowd, and made it the first moment in wrestling in years to make me laugh out loud. His catch phrase of "It wasn't my fault!" is right there on the fine line between ridiculous and genius, which from a humor standpoint puts it off the charts. The whole gimmick is built on the premise of killing babies. That's gold. Gold, Jerry! Even his feud with Kane was rife with hilarity, including this apparent jobber beating the shit out of the monster-turned-daddy. It's like Vince decided that he wasn't going to be limited by boundaries when booking Snitsky, starting with allowing him to keep quite possibly the world's worst wrestling name since Nick Bockwinkle. Who the hell would be intimidated by a man named Gene Snitsky? If I saw that name on my daily planner I'd think he was coming by to do my taxes, not kick my ass. Vince then has Kane, a man who for the past 7 years has been booked by an unstoppable abomination to be an unstoppable abomination, do a stretcher job for Snitsky. Simply put, this whole saga has been an example where booking on the fly and making snap decisions on a whim seem to be working to create an entertaining product, and that's the key.
If you don't find Raw, Smackdown, Velocity, Heat, Experience, Rush, Overdrive, Killzone, Havoc, or Insanity entertaining, then don't watch. If you're like me and you want to watch wrestling, but you don't exactly have any options besides Vince McMahon's shows, then find something that you personally will enjoy. Don't let others shape your views on what's fun and what's not. That includes the WWE hype, the net mark opinions of the moment, or even idiots like me who feel the need to share their thoughts with the 4 people who read their columns.
Now it's time to discuss the cuts, and for this I'm going to devote a paragraph to each of the dearly departed, in the order that I heard about them:
Billy Gunn used to be "the one who could actually wrestle" in the top tag team of the WWF Attitude era, which really says something for how pathetic the Road Dogg Jesse James was in the ring. For the uninitiated (all 1 of you), RDJJ is now known as B. Brian Blair of the popular TNA group, the 2 Cold Scorpios. Billy's real-life brother from the mid-90s, Bart Gunn, won the infamous shoot-based competition Brawl-for-All after he legitimately knocked out Stone Cold Steve Austin (real name "Dr. Death" Steve Williams), at which point they began booking his fights so that he could win by knock out, but somebody forgot to keep this facade up as they allowed Bart Gunn to get knocked out by real life fat man, Butter Bean. Despite being a big round mound of flesh, Butter was way too quick and powerful for Bart Gunn as he pummeled him so thoroughly that he had to legally change his name to Mike Barton and flee to Japan in disgrace, where he has lived peacefully and quietly ever since. That's all I have to say about Billy Gunn.
A-Train is now a running back for the Chicago Bears, and he helped to facilitate their upset victory over the New York Giants this past weekend. As a wrestler, he occasionally worked as an oversized black man in WCW. However, thanks to an endorsement by Under Taker, Vince McMahon snatched him up, shaved his head and attached the hair to his torso, then bleached his skin until he was Caucasian. He then attempted to shove him down our throats as something worth a damn, but we weren't buying it. We know a jobber when we see one.
Test is best known as "The Man of One Thousand Ring Attires, But Only One Gimmick." It was a long nickname, but it brought him great prosperity from one month in 1999 to another month in 1999 when he was flying high as a part of the world famous stable, the Union. This remarkable team also featured such greats as the Rock, Mankind, and Ken Shamrock, so you know they were a force to be reckoned with. Their dominance led to Test (real name Tess Truehart) getting a shot at the "Boss's Son-in-Law" title, but he lost to Hunter Helmsley. During the match, Test severely injured his push. Countless surgeries were performed, but doctors were unable to salvage it and it was eventually amputated, leaving Test completely useless for the years following until he was unceremoniously released while injured via FedEx, proving that Eric Bischoff does indeed have a role within the company behind the scenes.
Gail Kim is the daughter of Kim Chee, Kamala's handler. She endured a rough early childhood on the streets of Toronto, Korea, and it was made even worse when she discovered that her father was actually a homosexual named Steve Lombardi. Gail was devastated, and drifted aimlessly until she eventually found herself stateside. She married Dean Malenko, but their love didn't last as Dean was ravaged by the psychological strain of having his father's grave danced on by Chris Jericho in 1998. The marriage reached its low point when they separated, and Gail was awarded all 1,000 holds in the divorce proceedings. This forced Dean to retire as he no longer had a repertoire to use in the ring. Gail Kim however had plenty of holds at her disposal, but lacked the knowledge of how to build up to them in order to maximize the dramatic impact of their usage. Her last days with the WWE saw her siding with every female heel in the company as she still sought direction in her life. She now has it, as it now points to the unemployment line.
Nidia was raised on the mean streets of Tough Enough, Puerto Rico where she learned at an early age how to act like she was trailer trash. Such a seemingly useless skill proved, umm, useful as she was able to convince young West Virginian Jamie Noble (real name: Jamie-san Howard; real face: "a mask") that she was indeed like him. So much so that he convinced the WWF to employ her as well. Before long, Nidia dropped the act and returned to her Puerto-Rican roots, which included speaking nothing but fluent Spanish. Such a stunning change forced the WWF to fire her for trying to trick them into thinking that she was a member of their core demographic.
Chuck Palumbo was one of the most confused individuals in the industry. He started out trying to act like a fake-ass Tarzan on the Emmy Award winning television show, WCW Saturday Night. While his performance on the series was strong enough to land him a new gig as a part of the Natural Born Thrillers who, according to social commentator Kevin Nash, sucked. Coincidentally, sucking would become Chuck's gimmick in the WWE, in more ways than one (*wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge* *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge* *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge*). One moment he thought he was gay, then he thought he was acting gay, then he really was gay, but not in the way that he thought he was gay before. It was all so convoluted to the point that one would think Vince would love it, but instead even he was too confused and was forced to fire Palumbo in order to simplify things.
Johnny Stamboli used to go by the name Johnny the Bull, and Rodney Mack used to be called Red Dog. Late one night at a taping of Heat, they each realized that they were both way too tired to wrestle, so they began throwing together a concoction of Equal and Jolt Cola, with a dash of cocaine, and thus Red Bull energy drink was born. Just so he could claim the last laugh, Vince publicly announced that he fired the two entrepreneurs when in reality they have been making more money than him and had actually quit 6 months ago. Their no-compete clause is due to expire soon, but with the money that they're raking in these days it's doubtful that either Stamboli or Mack will be taking bookings.
Jazz is a genre of music. Vince McMahon, in an attempt to show his great, sweeping power over all forms of entertainment decided to perform a publicity stunt by firing Jazz. In the coming months it is expected that he'll also fire Grunge, Country, R&B, and in the grand finale, Action-Adventure and Romantic Comedy.
Rico Constantino liked gladiator movies a little too much. So much so that in the late 80s/early 90s he proclaimed himself to be an American Gladiator. Vince McMahon was quite impressed by this bravado and hired him on the spot . . . several years later when Rico was nearing 40 years of age. However, if Ric Flair can wrestle without a catheter bag, then of course so could Rico. All he'd need is a bottle of Geritol right before a match and he'd be good to go. In fact, it was not Rico's age that led to his firing, but rather his great love of Cialis. You see, Rico popped the stuff like it was Skittles, which would often result in erections lasting longer than 4 hours. As disturbing as this sight had to have been, Vince was willing to overlook it, but he wasn't willing to overlook the fact that Rico refused to seek immediate medical help. Vince has never been one to promote improper medicinal activity, so Rico's insolence forced Vince's hand in firing him.
There was also some writer who was fired, but no one cares about him, and since I'm no one that means I don't care about him either. In all, much public outcry in the streets of New York, DC, Los Angeles, London, and Tokyo has resulted from these roster cuts. Early rumors are persisting that in order to assuage the bitching masses, Vince will create Forbidden Friday, an interactive pay-per-view where the people will get to decide which of the previously mentioned unemployed wrestlers can be chosen to be re-hired, while another one will be chosen to be executed on live television. My money's on Billy Gunn and Chuck Palumbo, but it's up to you to figure out which one will be chosen to do what.