I keep a notebook with me during the week. If a thought strikes me as worth writing down, I do it as soon as it comes to me (with reasonable safety precautions taken, of course).
These may seem deep, asinine, or just vanilla level HuffPo takes. You decide.
Everyone says money can’t buy happiness, but having money makes it easier to not worry about money. Continue reading
The “Brawl For All” is arguably the worst idea in wrestling history. A Toughman style tournament between WWF wrestlers for bragging rights and a cash prize, the Brawl For All would end two careers, shelve several men with injuries and cost the WWF five million dollars in one night.
Vince Russo, a New Yorker who caught the WWF brass’ attention with his “Jerry Springer” style of television writing, sold the “Brawl For All” as a way of injecting much needed realism into WWF shows. If audiences were tuning in for the moments the show seemed real, why not make the in-ring action real? Continue reading
It was November 9, 1997. Vince McMahon, owner of the World Wrestling Federation, was as nervous as he’d ever been in his life. He was about to fuck over his World Champion on live television and shatter the casual fan’s belief in professional wrestling in an event that would be known decades later as “The Montreal Screwjob.”
The 90s were a huge boom period for the wrestling business. Every Monday night, the WWF and WCW competed for fan attention as they went head-to-head with their television shows “Raw” and “Nitro.” Both promotions regularly used underhanded tactics in an attempt to drive their rival out of business, and a favorite of WCW President Eric Bischoff was talent poaching. Continue reading
Let’s get honest for a moment. It’s been a rough week. Some of you reading this might feel the same way. If so, I’m sorry you’re down.
At least we’re not having a week like the New Jersey State Police Benevolent Association (which we’ll call the NJ PBA so I don’t have to type all that out again.) Continue reading
Prefatory Note: I told my wife this week of my interest in taking Chris Harrison’s hosting duties for the “Bachelor” series of TV shows. “Fuck no,” she told me, “you’re the least sympathetic person to put on television. It’d never work.” I decided to write a bit of what “The Bachelorette” might look like if I had my way. She might be right. You be the judge–CLS
[We open on a scene of a man standing in front of a lavish manor-style hotel. Brown-haired and in his forties, the man wears a tweed jacket, a black T-shirt with the design of the back of a red playing card, and jeans. He holds a snifter of brandy.] Continue reading
Bachelor Nation:
I would like to take this opportunity to throw my name in the running for host of the next “Bachelorette” season. I don’t just want “The Bachelorette.” I want Chris Harrison’s job.
For the rest of you wondering, “why is Seaton trying to land a reality TV host job,” allow me to fill you in on the rumor and innuendo regarding one of ABC’s biggest cash cows. Currently the Bachelor is Matt James, a black man. He’s in this spot following the events of last summer and calls from Rachel Lindsay, a former “Bachelorette,” to make the casting on the shows more diverse. Continue reading
It has come to my attention that some academic idiots on Twitter are trying to culturally appropriate “redneck,” a term they claim once referenced “poor pro-Union coal miners.”
No. Stop this now. That’s not how this works. You wokescold little shits, from me and every proud redneck out there to you: Take your shit and get off our lawns. You’re not getting “redneck” from us.
There is nothing “oppressive” or “marginalized” about rednecks. We are the people who invented rolling coal, big-ass trucks, and blowing shit up while drunk. Continue reading
Last week, we found ourselves without a Head Ball Coach at the University of Tennessee following the sacking* of Jeremy Pruitt over alleged NCAA recruiting violations.
This week a new face emerged as the leader of Vol Nation: Josh Huepel.
Pronounced (Hype-El)
As we end January and eye the start of February, it seems fitting we take a moment to celebrate the life of Sputnik Monroe: a man who helped break the color barrier in Memphis during the Civil Rights movement by being the biggest asshole in town.
Glorious Asshole
Born Roscoe Monroe Merrick in 1928, the grappler trained under Jack Nazworthy and debuted in 1945. He changed his ring name to Rocky Monroe four years later, and quickly established himself as a “heel” by insisting announcers bill him “From Wichita, Kansas, weighing in at 235 pounds of twisted steel and sex appeal.”
It wouldn’t be until a 1957 incident in Alabama that Monroe figured out how he’d draw money: exploiting southern racial tensions.
Monroe was exhausted driving to a show, so he offered a black hitchhiker a ride to the forum as long as the man drove. The man gratefully obliged and drove Monroe straight to the curb. When the mostly white onlookers saw Monroe hug his driver in thanks, they grew hostile. Monroe then kissed the black man on the cheek. Continue reading
In the fictional world of Mud Lick, Sheriff Roy tells his deputies, “Arrest anyone wearing Vol Orange on sight. We’ll make the charges stick later.” Apparently the Dickson County, Tennessee Sheriff’s Department finds this action appropriate for images they deem offensive.
A Tennessee man was arrested Friday for alleged harassment after authorities said he distributed a disrespectful photo of a law enforcement officer’s grave on social media.