The Midnight News 04.28.03
Posted By Hyatte on 04.28.03
Nash, a Babe, Backlash, The Return of Hal Jotsky (who?), Why Am I Fighting with a Menu?, Scooter, Guns, Roses, Madden, Reading Material, and Sable Lives
Guys like Hyatte are not columnists. If they have something to offer - post it on a message board.
You call this a column? I call it retarded. Only high school girls post their AIM chats like that. And remember, you’re not unpopular because you’re controversial, you’re unpopular because you’re lame!
I have no comment other than to point out that this may be as close I’ll ever get to meeting someone with the name “Joe Shmo”… I mean, really… he’s one letter off.
Well color me disappointed. Here I was all set to see you expose me as a faggot and a punk-ass and you go ahead and ignore the whole thing. Well what’s stopping you, loser? Come on, I want to see what you have to say! You can’t get to me, Hyatte. Understand that you do not get under my skin, I’m the one who gets under your skin!
Now go ahead and beg Carlos to get rid of me again. I dare you!
As God as my witness, I have no clue who this is.
I’m Chris and this is the Midnight News. And since we had an actual Pay Per View last night, I thought I’d give you all a thrill and make this week’s column RASSLE-RIFFIC!!! YEAH!!!!!
We will open with a note, jump to the PPV recap, then fool around, then go home. Then you will go f*ck yourselves and I will do the same.
KEVIN NASH IS THE COOLEST RASSLER EVER AND I HAVE PROOF!!
You know, I really have to work on my titles here.
It’s easy to see why the Net hates Kevin Nash. He’s tall. He’s a wiseass. He has four moves. He won’t put over Benoit. He’s HHH’s friend. He’s probably banged more models than most of you have jerked off. Oh he sucks.
No, no, NOOOOO Nash has, and always will… RULE… because he has EXPOSED THE GOOFINESS OF THE BUSINESS MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE
Case in point… in 1994 Big Daddy Cool Diesel just won the WWF title from Bob Backlund. He showed up on WWF TV for an in-ring interview with Vince McMahon. Vince (kayfabbing his ass off, as he was wont to do back then) asked Nash how he felt being the new world champion. Diesel said this:
Well, I woke up this morning and there was a smile on my face that wasn’t there before.
For some reason, it stuck with me… to this day I remember it. I don’t know why.
One year later: Big Daddy Cool Diesel had just dropped the WWF title to Bret Hart at Survivor Series. The next night on Raw, Nash storms into the building and (after a commercial break) goes over to the announce table and grabs a microphone. He cuts a promo about how the kinder/gentler face Diesel was gone and the bad ass killer from “Royal Rumble in Providence” was baaaack.
He also looked at McMahon and said: “I was never comfortable as champion. I knew I was in for trouble when YOU, Vince, took me into your office and told me to start SMILING more! You wanted to see your new champion with a big SMILE, all the time!”
And I damn near fell out of my chair. Since I was no where near the net back then, it was the closest I came to seeing the inner working of the WWF. They actually want their champions to smile… to pose with the kids… to sell themselves as a HERO.
Well, okay… it’s not too friggin’ mind blowing… but it’s way cool to hear him bitch about it.
So why does Nash RULE? WHY?
Because now that Brock Lesnar has the gold… he’s been sporting the LARGEST, BIGGEST, SHIT EATINGEST GRIN I’VE EVER SEEN!!! (and he looks like a moron while doing it, but that’s besides the point) And every time I see him smiling, I think of Nash, and I smile too.
God bless the no-selling, four moves, model banging, knees shot to shit, locker-room troublemaking bastard. GOD BLESS HIM AND FUCK YOU ALL!!!!!
Jesus, you’d never see Benoit making cracks like that… oh no.
OH, I’D KILL TO GET “SPEARED”
I know you all would prefer chatting about sweaty men touching each other for three hours, but first, let’s give each other a boner! That’s right… you heard me. Don’t knock it ‘til you tried it, bitch… I’ve got great hands… long fingers like a pianist… rough, but not callous from hard work… strong… flexible… and unlike most web guys, I know where the clits are and how to work them… men have clits too… oh yes we do.. it’s right, well, drop your pants and I’ll show you… right… now touch that… yeah, the rim… oooh… oooo… oh Ashish… oohh… WHOOPS
Anyway for you kids, (and you dykes too… I’m thinking of you Roy Orbison look-a-likes as well), you all go here
It’s a Britney Spears page. Yes it is.
You know, while I was away, Britney pretty much dropped her whole “I’m a virgin” gimmick and banged… well, pretty much everything in site. She also stopped caring if people caught her smoking like a chimney and was seen drinking Coca-Cola while under contract with Pepsi (not the brightest move). None of this has served to diminish her f*ckability in my eyes.
Anyway, at that site, scroll to the bottom and download the video for her cover of Joan Jett’s I Love Rock & Roll, (to which Britney once stated: “I was a big fan of Pat Benatar and loved covering her song”). You’ll need Quicktime for it, but it won’t take long.
And why am I recommending this? Even though the video is available only in Europe? Well, I’ll tell ya…
Because at one point, Britney does something with the microphone I have never seen any girl do… and I grew up watching Madonna.
At one point… she simulates a blowjob on the mic… and not a cutesy cute tomboyish blowjob, either… she goes porn star on that mother.
Kids… you’re gonna have to trust me on this one… you will blow in your pants and RUSH out and e-mail thanking me for it.
Jesus, I blew so hard I e-mailed myself.
CALL MY LAWYER, I’VE GOT BACKLASH!!
I didn’t watch the show, so if you’re expecting a Mop-Up, well, there are about 100 other people you can read.
So what I did was call upon and old friend and HIRED him to watch the show and recap it… or at least give the results. You might remember him from a year ago in one of the ill fated monthly PPV Mop-Ups that I did for all of 4 months… he’s blue, he’s old school, and he’s straight from the Catskills… ladies and germs, I proudly give to you… legendary Comic stylist… the KING of the Rimshot… Mr. HAL JOTSKY!!!! TAKE IT AWAY, HAL!!!
Thank you, thank you… take my chairshot, please… *rimshot
-Team Angle defeated The Flying Jalapenos after a match filled with more twists and turns, more trips and falls than my mother in-law taking a sobriety test… HEYNOW
-Later, the Leaping Chihuahas stole the belts and take off in a ugly green low rider. In other news, the sky is bue and grass is green… BA DUM DUM
-O’Haire beat the Island boy and bashed the old guy in a skirt with a coconut. Fat Island boys? Old guys in skirts? Smashing coconuts? Is this wrestling or a tape of the last party at Raymond Burr’s house? BUTIGOTTATELLYA!!
-The damn dirty hippie and the damn dirty hippe in a red mask beat the colored boy and his fat white brother for some sort of tag team belts. I knew a guy, 80 years old… 80 years old and the father of three beautiful blonde boys. Well, he got divorced and re-married to a beautiful 21 year old girl and nine months later, the Doctor came out of the delivery room saying, “Congratulations! It’s a BOY!” Well, my 80 year old friend laughed and said, “Well, might be a little snow up top and some rust around the edges, but I can still put a fire in the ol’ woodstove can’t I?” Well, the Doctor goes, “yeah, but you better have that chimney cleaned because your new son’s black!” HEY!!!!
-The Negress beat the Blonde for the girl’s title. When asked how tough the blonde was the Negress said, “I love fighting white girls, every time they punch me in the face the break their hand on the plate in my lip, a mooka booka, cha shallolla” BOOYAA
Okay, this is Hyatte again, please, Mr. Jotsky, could you work just a little less blue… we have a lot of children in the audience today…
Listen, tubbo!!! I once buttraped Alan King in the men’s room of the Copa… I’m not taking the hook from a cyberbastard like you!! Beat it or I’ll have Jilly dump you in a trash can!!!
-The Big Giant white guy beat the living shit out of the little Mexican in a mask. Last night I said to my wife, “Why don’t we go out for a little mexican?” She snapped back, “No need, Paco the Pool Boy comes every Monday about noon and I come about 6 minutes later” HOOO
-The Big Ape beats the Rappin’ White Boy. Boy, I saw that video with Eminem digging a grave for his mother. I called his agent and asked if he took requests! FLOSAP!!!
-Triple H, Jericho and Flair beat HBK, Booker and Nash. Of COURSE they won, HBK and Nash were too busy keeping their wallets away from the black guy… CHA-CHING!!
This is Hyatte again… maybe this is where we should thank Mr. Jotsky for his performance and quit early.
Hey boy!! Last time someone tried to give me the hook, Ed Sullivan was shitting Janis Joplin’s hair weave for a week!!! Get off my stage and watch a professional in action!!!
-The Jew beat the colored boy in the main event! I ask you ladies and gentlemen… what is the American Dream?
Um, Mr. Jotsky… this is Hyatte again. They can’t respond back, you know!
Fine, then you tell me tubby… what’s the American Dream?
Err… to live free and prosper under a giving democracy?
No, it’s that all the blacks swim back to Africa… YOWZAA HEYHEYHEY!!!
THAT’S IT… SHOW’S OVER!!! MR. JOTSKY, OFF THE STAGE WITH YOU, RIGHT NOW!!
Wait a minute, so if that’s the American Dream, what is the REAL American Dream???
You’re out of here… get out GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT
That they carry a Jew under each arm!! GOODNIGHT LADIES AND GERMS!!! I LOVE YOU ALL, BUT THE LOVE OF MY LIFE… IS A LADY BY THE NAME OF… COMEDY!!!!
DEAR GOD!!! GET OFF THE STAGE… OFF… OFF
My God… ladies and germ… gentlemen, I apologize for Mr. Jotsky’s behavior… his words do NOT reflect the opinions of Chris Hyatte, 411mania, or the Midnight News. He is from a different era, a crueler, more ignorant era. I felt that showcasing him tonight would show you a glimpse of what it was like for hard working minorities of ALL kinds back then. Please forgive his ignorance… he will NOT be back.
Dear Lord… that was ugly.
COMING TO MY SENSES
It occurred to me the other day… well, here’s an analogy:
You got Maxim magazine, right? Then you got Details, FHM, Gear, Stuff, and Stun magazines. They all print generally the same stuff.
Now, I haven’t read any of these magazines cover to cover in a long time, but when I did, I noticed that they all like to take potshots at one another. Whether they still do is unknown, but they did at one time.
(and for the sake or this story, please pretend that all these magazines are published by different entities. I’m aware that some of these magazines fall under the same umbrella)
Now, let’s say a NEW magazine comes out, only they don’t even bother with fresh editorials… what they do is print everything all the other magazines have in their issues that month. Eventually, they get ambitious and print from magazines not in the “Men” genre… such as Sports, Entertainment, Women’s, Teens,… they become the print version of TV Guide… they tell you what OTHER magazines are doing.
Problem is… this NEW magazine gets cocky. Their “Editors” start publicly debating who deserves to be added to their line-up of magazines that are out this month. Although they’re circulation is lower than the magazines they hype, they try to convince everyone that they are a viable entity in the medium.
Okay… now, one of the loudest writers on one of the most popular magazines on this list loves to take potshots at everyone, right? He gets himself into a spat with this magazine that holds no real content other than advertising other magazines. The editors of this magazine start accusing him of writing to them in their letter section and begging them to put his magazine in theirs.
Suddenly, the writer decided that a loser is a loser and he has better things to do than jacking with a magazine that does NOTHING but promote other magazines and then brag about it.
So, the writer moves on to talking about magazines that actually produce something.
And all is well.
Besides, once those idiots at A1 started accusing 411 of being a “cut & paste” site when A1’s very existence revolves around the ultimate cutting and pasting of other sites… I knew it was time to bail.
The following chat pretty much sealed the deal for me. It’s all true:
GPac A1W: Hey pussy. Survey says, you suck!
GPac A1W: Did you see the thread on the a1 board? Everyone says you suck. HAHAHA PUSSY!!
Hyatte1com: Everyone? All 12 people?
GPac A1W: Yeah, everyone.
Hyatte1com: Hmm, that explains how my readership has dropped … oh, wait, no it hasn’t.
Hyatte1com: Did you at least admit that I was never a registered poster on your stupid board and that you and your dippy brother made the whole thing up?
GPac A1W: Of course not. They all believe whatever I tell them. They don’t believe you because none of them read you anyway.
GPac A1W: What are you gonna do about it??
Hyatte1com: Go on. Try to survive.
GPac A1W: Tell you what, if you ask nicely, we might consider putting 411 up on A1
Hyatte1com: But, 411 is more popular than A1… we don’t really need your help.
GPac A1W: All you have to do is ask.
GPac A1W: please? Widro won’t answer our e-mails.
GPac A1W: We can really help each other out, if you think about it.
Hyatte1com: I don’t see how you would help us out at all, but I’ll think about it.
GPac A1W: Okay. I know all this web feuding is good for business, but seriously, let’s be friends.
Hyatte1com: I said I’ll think about it. Later.
Yeah, let me say for the record that 411 has no interest in being on the A1 menu page. We seem to be doing quite well all on our very own.
Gah…. What a fucking WORLD I’m in…
MY THREE STOOGES
One thing about the A1 deal is that Scott Keith - the biggest troll/whore for his own press alive - weighed in with his thoughts… sort of.
He did say something very interesting, though…
I couldn't care less about anything Hyatte says and does
Well then Scott, I guess I can say pretty much ANYTHING I WANT about you and you WON’T go running to Widro crying about it? THANKS, BRO’!!!!
I mean, you wouldn’t want to be called a HYPOCRITE, would you? Of course not!
Anyway… here’s the problem… the problem with Scott.
Some people can handle being popular, others can’t. Me, I can only because I know how really unpopular being a web god is. You make a few contacts, maybe meet a couple of hot chicks, have a few laughs, but that’s about it.
Then there’s Scott Keith. Now Scott has allowed his “skill” at sitting in front of the TV, watching countless hours of wrestling, and writing about it to develop into a small, nickel and dime business for him. It’s because of YOU people always reading him that has given him his swollen head.
Which is okay… he watches his rasslin’ and remembers most of it. He reads his Meltzer and remembers what Meltzer reported. Suddenly, he’s an authority on wrestling and enough readers have allowed him to continue thinking as such.
But then, when one’s head swells up with knowledge about one topic, one suddenly decided he’s an authority on EVERY topic…
Not good when all you know is wrestling, and you’re an idiot at everything else:
Now I swear, someone sent this to me… but since Scott has given me free reign, I’m talking about it, from his latest “Smackdown… err… Rant(?)”
You know, I don’t know if they have these MADD commercials in the US, but they’re really starting to get preachy and kinda ridiculous. For instance, the latest one says that alcohol is the same thing as cocaine or heroin because it kills more people under 21. Well, first of all, alcohol is LEGAL and easy to get -- 7-11s in the US sell it right off the shelf. I’m sure if you could walk into a grocery store and pick up an 8-ball of coke it’d start killing more people pretty quick. Second, it’s not addictive. Third, while the short-term effects of alcohol intoxication may be worse (drunk driving), the long-term damages of drug use far outweigh those of alcoholism. I mean, yes, drunk driving is terrible and people who do it are idiots who deserve what they get, but the constant self-righteous generalizations from groups like MADD where they basically say “Anyone who drinks is a bad person” instead of doing something useful like petitioning the government to toughen the drinking laws drives me insane.
There are… SO MANY things wrong with this statement… I mean… he’s got NOTHING right. I mean… Jesus Fuck… this is friggin… amazingly ignorant stuff here.
The man has never left his wrestling tapes… unless it’s to watch his Star Trek DVDs… ever… ever.
Alcohol is not addictive? Really? Hmm… no kidding.
I know just a little something about this… try to follow along. (I’d invite Scott to follow along, but like the rest of the world, he doesn’t read me either)
Alcohol is a depressant, it impairs judgement and clouds over the thought processes, okay?
It also stimulates the brain’s pleasure centers. You drink, you feel happy. You’re brain is telling the rest of your body that it feels good.
Now, the brain works 24 hours a day, seven days a week focused on accessing the pleasure centers. The only thing we all LIVE FOR is to feel good. If having money makes us feel good, then we work to make it. If sex makes us feel good, then we try to have it. If the joy of eating food makes us feel good, then we eat it. Smart people know how to access the pleasure centers through a variety of means, so we don’t do too much of one thing and not enough of the other.
Now, when done right, the brain builds connections… little neurological pathways from the many parts of the brain that controls the body straight to those pleasure centers. These pathways will work with and regulate the access to the pleasure centers. Thus, when you haven’t had sex in a while, the pleasure centers will send a signal. When you haven’t had something sweet, like chocolate, the pleasure centers will tell you. If everything is running properly, the pleasure centers will disperse the pleasurable feelings (called “endorphins”) in proper doses.
When you drink alcohol, you feel good. Your pleasure centers goes to work.
Drink enough alcohol, and guess what happens? That’s right, the brain builds a neurological pathway from the desire to drink booze to the pleasure centers.
And since alcohol makes people feel SO good, the pleasure centers demand more and more of it. And it sends signals to the brain asking for more. If you ignore it, it starts demanding booze. It sends more and more signals until it is SATISFIED. That’s why it’s so tough to quite booze (or smoking, for that matter)… because you are fighting with your BRAIN, you are fighting with the part of your brain that controls EVERYTHING YOU DO…
Not addictive? NOT ADDICTIVE??? How DUMB IS THIS GUY???
See, that’s the problem with guys like Scott. Give them a little success and they can’t deal with it. Now Scott thinks he’s an authority on everything. When in reality, he’s just an average moron who has focused his life on one, silly subject.
(oh, and someone on wienerville goaded Scott into defending the above tirade… Scott had to explain that what he MEANT was that booze wasn’t AS addictive as cocaine and heroin… now, I’m quite good at reading between the lines but… “ Second, it’s not addictive ” seems pretty straightforward as it gets)
Here’s hoping he continues embarrassing himself… it’s fun exposing him as a guy who knows very little outside his collection of rasslin’ tapes. Dare I say it’s… very ADDICTIVE.
Oh what the hell… I’m having so much fun with this new “Hyatte can say whatever he wants about me” policy that I’ll let it bleed into the NEXT segment:
INTERNET SONG PARODIES SUCK AND HERE’S WHY
Now remember, I’m only doing this to show Pat McNeil and his ilk that song parodies do NOT WORK ON PRINT… Pat doesn’t seem to comprehend it… well, actually he does, but he can’t stop now because it would be admitting that I won.
Oh, it’s okay Pat… I always win.
IF song parodies WERE to work, they would only if someone goes all out… doing a song (or 19 of them) about how Vince McMahon is ruining EVERYTHING just doesn’t fucking cut it.
THIS song parody, for instance, is about a certain web guy who knows very little outside the wrestling business. His name is Scott Keith. It’s to the song Welcome to the Jungle by Guns ‘N Roses… try to enjoy… or sing along… or play the tune in your head… or go buy the CD… or download it… or… oh I DON’T KNOW!!!
Scooter is a Bunghole
He’s a retard
(Full bloom beginning)
Scooter is a bunghole, and I think he might be gay
How can you date a girl when you’re on the net all day
And he’s a very chubby boy, eats everything he sees
His favorite snack is three pizzas with sausage and extra cheese
He’s a bunghole, Scooter is a bunghole
He’d love Benoit on his nu-nu-nu-nu-nu-knees, knees
Ugh, he write books no one needs
Scooter is a bunghole and he’s desperate for fame
Meltzer thinks he’s a loser and Keller thinks the same
And he’s a very cocky boy, very hard to please
He thinks Chris Benoit without his shirt on is a goddamn cock tease
He’s a bunghole, Scooter is a bunghole
He has… has… a constant wet dream
Ugh… it involves Triple H and ass cream
Scooter is a bunghole, and he gets worse everyday.
He writes lazy, bad books and expects people to pay
He thinks he has skills, wants to be taken seriously
Will go running to Widro whining about useless, little ol’ me
He’s a bunghole. Scooter is a bunghole
He wants you all on your nu-nu-nu-nu-nu-nu-knees, knees
Ugh… let’s hang him from the tallest tree!
And you are high if you, respect this IWC clown, clown, clown, clown, clown, he’s so rooouuuuunnnnnd
YOU KNOW WHO HE IS? HIS NAME IS SCOTT KEITH, BABY, HE LIKES SWEATY, HALF-NAKED GUUUUUUUYYYYYYYYYYYYYYSSSSSSS
He’s a bunghole, SCOOTER IS A BUNGHOLE, WATCH HIM EAT LOTS OF CH-CH-CH-CH-CHEESE, CHEESE
HE’S A BUNGHOLE, SCOOTER IS A BUNGHOLE, HE’S NOT, NOT, NOT VERY LEAN
BUNGHOLE, SCOOTER IS A BUNGHOLE , LET’S HANG HIM FROM A TREE, TREE
BUNGHOLE, SCOOTER IS A BUNGHOLE, SPENDS HIS LIFE ONLINE AND…
HE’S SUCH A FUCKING CLOWN
THANK YOU!!!! Thank you! Oh, please, sit down, sit. There will be no encore! Goodnight and drive safely!
Now, speaking of bad books, I wanted to put this into my return column… but got sidetracked a couple of weeks… so we do this now:
THE MIDNIGHT NEWS BOOK-OF-THE-TWO-WEEK-CLUB
Flea: Only three writers in the world have ever meant anything, Hyatte.
Hyatte: Oh yeah, which ones?
Flea: Stephen King, George Orwell…
Flea: (takes a long, drawn-out, desperate pull from his bong – followed by a nice, generous sip from his glass) and… whoever.
Hyatte: Who the fuck is whoever?
Flea: When you know, then you’ll know.
This has nothing to do with wrestling because… oh eat me, I don’t need to justify anything I do anymore.
This past X-Mas, a reader sent me 18 books. He worked at a bookstore and wanted to thank little ol’ sucky-ain’t-funny-no-more me for years of hard work. It might be the best fucking gift I’ve received in a long time… (not counting Flea’s generosity)
Anyway, while I was gone the MANIA took over. Now 411 isn’t just about wrestling… it’s about Movies and Music, and Games, and Comics, and Dolls! AWESOME!!
No books though… because you MTV watching, Playstation2 playing, Rock “action figure” raping punks don’t read, I guess.
Well I read… I read like a motherf*cker. And because I’m all about doing new things here, I’m going to try to get YOU reading too.
So, every two weeks I’m gonna tell you the next book you should read, one that’s part of my library, and I’m going to post an excerpt from the book so you can sample it. You will see that I read a whole different range of books, but some authors will show up often… because we all have our favorites. I hope to introduce you to a slew of REAL authors with REAL shit on their minds… not wannabes who write about wrestling without having any balls.
Trust me, this shit’s gonna take off… BIG time.
The first book you probably didn’t read, but you saw the movie.
John O’Brien was a unique voice… one of the freshest writers of the 90’s. He wrote dark stuff, books with characters that were basically losers… basically drunks. No, scratch that, the WERE drunks, they WERE losers and they lived in the seedy parts of town. They weren’t desperate people, they didn’t cry for redemption too much, they just existed. O’Brien captured their characters perfectly, and with some of the funkiest prose you’ll ever read.
His first book is called Leaving Las Vegas. Flea sent me a copy and introduced me to the writer (through his words, not in person) last year. I’ve read the book three times since. Each time blew my mind.
In this excerpt, Ben (O’Brien’s co-protagonist) is in his home, getting ready to go out and drink. He is plotting out how he’ll spend the rest of his life. Doesn’t seem like much to excerpt… but just watch:
Money, money. He’s going through a ton of money these days. When he lost his job last week he gained a sizable final check; his former employer really liked him and felt terribly guilty about having to fire him. Never mind that he unwittingly delayed the dismissal meeting by staying all morning at the bar and, after checking in with the receptionist, was on his way out for an early lunch when his boss caught up with him. Ironically, had he known what was in store for him that morning, he would have made it a point to be on time; he is very conscientious in that way. So they called him in – by then he did know what for – and asked him to leave. He felt so bad, not that he was being fired, but because his boss was on the verge of tears. How could he blame them? For the last year and a half his daily routine had been: Come in late, say eleven; flirt with the receptionist; go to lunch early, eleven-thirty; return from lunch late, about three; copy must-do list from today’s calendar page to tomorrow’s; walk fast around the office; leave early, no later than four-thirty. Everyone knew it for almost as long as he did, and he knew that they knew. It all just flowed so nicely that no one wanted to fuck with it. Not that he didn’t have his value, he did. He could be counted on to, at least, not let anything become a crisis, and he fixed everything that broke. The latter was not even required of him, but he could, so he did. He knew that being handy is the kind of conspicuous skill that makes it easier for others to tolerate you. They tolerated, and even liked him, for as long as they could. They eased their guilt by cutting him a padded check. Chockfull of make believe vacation pay and sick leave, and iced with severance play pay, it was intended to help him get back on his feet while he looked for another job. But they knew and he knew that what it really represented was a whole fucking lot of booze.
Money, money. His final paycheck, added to what was left of his once substantial savings, gives him a net worth of around five thousand dollars. On top of that, he can wring at least that much again out of his credit cards; he’s always been a good boy, and it will be sixty to ninety days before little flags start appearing next to his name on monitors and printouts from here to Arizona.
Money, money. That gave him ten thousand dollars in drinking money. If he stops paying his bills, and only pays, say, one month’s rent, and keeps up his virtually non-existent social life and eating habits, then it can pretty much all stay drinking money. If he drinks one hundred dollars a day - and he can - he’s got one hundred days to drink. It’s just an arithmetic operation, simple logic.
In his kitchen he picks up a bottle of Vodka. Center stage on the white tile counter and always threatening depletion, this is his home bottle. This is his sick bottle, his too-late bottle, his one for the road bottle. This is his utility bottle; it keeps him at his default setting. He pours a tall glass and cuts it with a splash of tonic. It’s quite a lot of vodka, and it represents his last hurdle of the morning. He feels all right now, but if he can get this down knows that he won’t embarrass himself in public. Throwing up at your barstool is frowned upon in Beverly Hills. He carries the full glass into the shower with him, just to be on the safe side.
All goes well, and by the end of the shower he’s feeling great. Craving music now, he drips over to stereo without waiting to dry and plays one of the twenty-some cuts that he tends to play over and over again when he’s been drinking, that he tends to play over and over again. He pours another drink and dances back to the bathroom for an ambitious morning shave.
To Ben, shaving is evidence that everything’s fine. These few minutes of socially suggested practicality tend to convince him that he, like the rest of the normal world, is just living his life. He’s just another guy that gets up and goes through a regular routine, wades through a non-spectacular day, and comes home and goes to sleep. He’s a cog in the machine. He’s a soma-driven epsilon who happens to be plagued with imagination. For instance, his habit is to shave around his mouth first; that way, he can sip his drink even if he’s not finished shaving - his mind never rests.
He looks in the mirror and doesn’t care that he’s an alcoholic. The issue is entirely irrelevant to him. He does this all deliberately, with purpose. Yes, of course I’m an alc he thinks. What about it? It’s not what the story is about. There are a million ways to croak; he’s only plucking a piece of life. Let go and fuck God. There are a thousand mind manipulations. As he and his friend used to joke about: It’s time to cut your hair, get a job, and just give up. Ha Ha. The crime is not that he’s an alcoholic; big deal! The crime is that he’s disoriented, big time.
He gets dressed to the music, sometimes dancing with himself in the mirror: will you go out with me? He puts on too much cologne so he can stink of a different kind alcohol. Tie done up right and suit looking sharp, he spins on his heel and walks into the living room, where he trips over the low coffee table and crashed through it’s glass top. He groans once and then starts snoring.
The movie was pretty faithful to the book, but it doesn’t matter. O’Brian got into the head of an unrepentant lush with such style and ease, it’s tough to imagine that he wasn’t living the life he wrote about… especially since he killed himself in 1994.
He wrote three books. This is the first one. As time goes on I shall introduce you to his entire collection. Go find this one and buy it. It is incredible. Then tell me what you think.
It’s time to give that little muscle called your BRAIN a work-out, kids. Time to exercise that thing called your IMAGINATION. And by Christ, Hyatte’s gonna help!
MADDEN MAKES YOUR PECKER GROW!!!
Yes, when you think of Mark Madden, you think of sex. I know you do!
Luckily, Mark has that covered, as a gentleman by the (laughable, not to mention oxymoronic) name of the Canadian Casanova informs us:
Just thought I would let you know that Mark Madden is doing radio commercials for 1-800-Be-Large A penile enhancement company.
Because I am a top-flight journalist on the order of Scherer, Keller, Powell, and others who have never stepped foot on a college campus, I dialed the number, fully prepared to scream: “YES, YES, I WANNA HAVE A BIG PRICK AND GET ALL THE LADIES, JUST LIKE MARK MADDEN!!!”
It was disconnected.
Moral of the story: Jesus Christ, what moral do you need? Fat obnoxious men do not make for good penis enhancement salesmen!!!!
Thought it would be obvious… jeeze.
Has gone off to greener pastures… Erik “NoSoul” Ashley has decided that sitting in the anchor section of the Midnight News is a little too constraining for his type of column.
Quite frankly, I agree, so 411 set him up with his own column. And the list of all-stars grows.
So, what do I do in the meantime? Well… let’s take it home with a visit from…
TAKE US HOME RENA SABLE
And even with the lure of big time Hollywood roles BANGING, I SAY BANGING on her door, Rena Mero has decided to look kindly upon the unwashed mass of human pollution known as her “fans” and TRIUMPHANTLY RETURN to the WWE…
And ya’ know… the bitch looks good.
Anyway, the moment I heard she was back I RAN over to her websi (well, I RAN about as much as a guy sitting in front of a keyboard CAN run) te and went to see what she was up to… what she had to say… and if there was any wisdom she could impart on us.
In short: Not much, not much, and not a damn thing I can’t get in a Bazooka Joe comic strip.
But make no mistake, Rena Mero leads a CHARMED life, where EVERYTHING is perfect, where she has NO problems, where she has THROTTLED LIFE BY THE NECK AND CHOKED IT FOR ALL IT’S WORTH… and life has SMILE back at her and HANDED HER THE BRASS RING!!!
Think I’m kidding? She has a “Ask Rena” section where her MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF ADORING FANS GET TO ASK HER THE TOUGH QUESTIONS… and she answers them honestly… yes she do.
You filmed a music video named "Breath". Did you enjoy that experience?
Rena: I filmed this in Nashville and had so much fun. Cledus T. Judd and the whole cast and crew were a riot! They aired a TV show on CMT that showed the making of the video. The out takes are hilarious!
Yes, everything is FUN… everyone she meets is a RIOT… everything she does, even the screw-ups, are HILARIOUS
Do you prefer acting to being in the ring?
Rena: That's very difficult to answer. I loved being in the ring but there's something about acting that is so gratifying. I am always striving to improve. Ever since I was a little girl, It has been my dream!
She always LOVED being in the ring… never a BAD MOMENT in there… but acting is so GRATIFYING… she is living her DREAM, goddammit.
Do you ever miss performing in front on thousands of people live and millions watching on TV every week?
Rena: If there's one thing that I missed about wrestling is the feeling you get performing in front of a live audience. It's exhilarating! That's why I'm glad to be back!
EXHILARATING!!!! EVERYTHINBG IS SUCH A HILARIOUSLY GRATIFYING EXHILARATION!!! LIKE A REAL LIFE DREAM!!! FUN, TOO! DID I MENTION IT WAS FUN!!!
As somebody who has had two of the most successful Playboy layouts in history, what did you think of Chyna's and Torrie Wilson's?
Rena: They both looked beautiful in their Playboy layouts and I hope their experience with Playboy was as enjoyable as mine was.
Oh ALL my fellow WWE Divas are and were BEAUTIFUL!! WE ARE THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE and Playboy was a SHEER PLEASURE to work with
Did you enjoy posing for Playboy?
Rena: It was wonderful! I have a great relationship with Playboy and you may just see me in Playboy again! .
Wonderful… EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE IS WONDERFUL!!!! I don’t understand why we must have war when LIFE IS SO WONDERFUL!!!!
Back to wrestling for my last two questions, What did it feel like performing at WrestleMania?
Rena: That had to be the highlight of my career. It was my first match ever! A tag team with Marc against Goldust and Luna at the Fleet Center in Boston! I'll never forget it
How can you forget something so WONDERFUL!!!!! HOW??? HOW FOR THE LIFE OF CHRIST???
You get the idea… you better have because that’s all the questions she had posted… six of them… and I’m pretty sure they’re all from the same fan.
Man, if Rena ever said, “You know, this really sucks” on her website, I’m quite sure the universe would collapse.
Well, that’s it for this week’s big dance. Over the course of the week you shall be treated to the likes of Eric S, Josh Grut, Ashish, umm… some weekend people… TONS of columns about wrestling, comics, dolls, games, movies, and music and Scott Keith will recap his phonebook and expect you to read every word. I shall log on and off every so often and sniff around. I will also plan on trying to put out some housefires.
I will also ejaculate quite a bit… occasionally, there will be a woman present… perhaps YOU, if you play your cards right.
This is Hyatte