The Midnight News 09.08.03 

Posted By Hyatte on 09.08.03

Reader Rage, Tammy's Ass, NWA, Goldylocks, The New Diva, AIM Chats Up The Wazoo, Reading Material, Quotes, Maven, and PWI 

It never fails. When I stuff a column filled with remarks about how great I am, the flames get particularly brutal, like Pavlov and his dogs: 

Your column has been in one big crap slide since you "returned" to 411.

Your first column was the only one I liked, and even I have to admit it. Since then (a) You've been bitching about the reading audience a lot more - there's no place for that in a column, you unhappy man. (b) The wrestling content has been gradually getting smaller week by week and has gotten a lot worse in value. (c) The only place you would be "talented" would be in a daily New York early morning talk show, in which you'd be the host who bitches about his life for 20 minutes, and then yells at the guests for the other 10. Talented, yes, but not worth watching.

Clean up your act and start writing in the way we KNOW you can, or just crawl into a blast furnace somewhere and go away.


Not enough wrestling content? Yet my first column back was the one you liked? Hmm, would that be the VERY SAME COLUMN where I said: Thing is… I don’t know what I can promise over the next few months. Some columns will be shorter, some will be just as stuffed as always. I’ll talk as much about wrestling as I goddam good and well FEEL LIKE. If I produce columns with zero wrestling content… so fucking be it. It’s my shit here.? Hmm?

The thing of it is… very few of you know exactly HOW good I really am… and if I started writing on the level MOST of you expect (not all, a good chunk of you are actually pretty astute, and all around good people), then I’m short changing myself. Basically, you get what you pay for with me and not a penny more.

You stupid fucking cracker. You must be real tough to talk shit about "ethnic groups" and "spic lovers" from the safety of a computer. You are not as witty as you think you are but i suppose you'll act superior as if I didn't interrupt you clipping your mother's toe nails. Pathetic fuck. 


2410 Mendon Road, Cumberland, RI 02864. I ain’t hiding.

Would you rather I replaced “ethnic groups” with something more… racy? Can’t do that, I promised a few readers that I would respect their wishes.

And I am exactly as witty as I think I am. Thank you. 

Now this one is a culmination of several e-mails from the same guy:

I swear Hyatte your like that pimple on the ass of humanity you just never go the fuck away. I rember the last time me and you exchanged letters it ended in you going away for some time. Guess what little buddy? No one missed you then and no one would miss you now if you picked up, And hit the bricks. 

Ranting about shit just to be ranting about shit went out with Dennis Miller, 1% of the time he hit the nail on the head and the other 99% of the time he was just a prick talking just to hear himself talk. Well guess what I think you do this to entertain yourself anymore, To hold up that pitiful thing you call a fucking ego. Maybe once again do us all a favor and give it the fuck up. 

You where funny about 4 years ago now your just pitiful, Trying to hold on to that one thing you where once good at, Now your just another hack writing about something hardly anyone watches anymore, Making fun of your fellow writers not that 1Bob does not deserve a knock here or there. 

But you know something there small fry, You could in all your greater Glory be called 1Bob Jr. in Fact I think thats what I will refer to you as from now on. So what do you have planned this week some fart jokes maybe Bash Keith a little. 

I mean lord knows you could not do anything original anymore, I think you fear your head may explode if you actually god forbid wrote about WRESTLING. 

I guess I will let you get back to beating off to Internet porn or something along those lines, Oh are you still looking at chics with dicks? Cause I always thought that was your speed.

Well Chris I do not read if it is just mindless blather, I have been ignoring your little midnight news on the site for a better part of 2 years now. I glanced in the other day to see you where not living up to your potential once again. I can give a shit less about Triple H or Benoit, Nor do I belive Benoit is god. But you are on a wrestling site I can give a shit less how many times you jerked of to Tom Green's left nut. See the Tom Green Style of writing that you do now is why you lost allot of your fan base. 

Hell I would be happy if you wrote about indy wrestling cause that is where most of the action is at cause you and I both know Vince is spoon feeding us shit and telling us its apple sauce. 

Start doing some of your old style recaps, Stop hating us the readers and we will stop hating you. 

Till you vanish from the net for good I'm going to be on you like White on rice you fucking useless prick. 

P.S. Hey take a free clue, Go read your shit from Scoops when you use to be funny asshole.


A: So, he wants me to do a Mop-Up column about the Indy scene every week? Wow… that’ll just about run everyone off the column.

B: Haven’t I explained enough about how I will not waste my time or yours re-hashing wrestling news that everyone else has already dissected with a bitter, negative scalpel? 

C: Oh, HE’S the reason I went on hyattus? Okay then.

D: Don’t you hate it when people say “Guess what” then answer before you even have a second to take a guess?

E: Someone’s spell check is broken!!

F: I’d actually get a kick out of being called “1Bob” from now on.

G: For a guy who doesn’t read me and is writing in reaction to what people on an unnamed message board (and really, I am not that popular a topic ON the boards, never was… not with Scooter around… and that’s totally fine with me, by the way) said, he sure has a lot of anger to vent. It must be a contagious little bug… ‘cause a LOT of people have it… ha!

Anyway, I responded back, telling him how cute his letters were, and it drove him CAARAAZY

Is that the best you can come up with? I swear does anyone use spell check in E-mails or even try and use correct English at that you don't as previous e-mails can prove so do not give me English lessons. I have a saying you do not feed me fuck me or pay me so what you say about me has little concern. Only place I even try and use Proper English is at work is because they do pay me. 

On another note your an entertainment writer who is neither entertaining or even good anymore. Your a fucking hack job who does not even write a daily fucking article anymore its once a week. I guess your other job serving up hamburgers keeps you pretty fucking busy. 

Give it up all ready your no fucking good your writing teacher in school should have told you to give up your fucking dream. You would make a better Jiz mopper than a writer. 

You rember one thing Meat Whistle. I fucking chased you off of 411 2 years ago and I can fucking do again at anytime I wish so go fuck yourself. 

Oh and one more thing illiterate Chris Hyatte, Its one thing to be on a wrestling site and writing about bullshit and its another to actually write about wrestling. Its one thing to hate your own fucking life but belive me other people do not want to hear about it. Thats why I do not read the other doosh bag they have writing at 411. I check the boards and the latest news, But as far as the writing staff goes its just a matter of time before your writing for 1Bob and we both know that won't ever happen cause that prick won't even have you.


Well, at least he finally fixed his spell-check. 

Hey Hyatte, is there any truth to the rumors that Hulk Hogan is returning to Raw? 



Yup. And why the hell are you asking ME?

And for a spot of GOOD news, and just to show that I don’t always get BURIED with flame letters:


You’ve received a $50 Gift Certificate

I got the sense that the fellow would prefer to stay anonymous, so let me say that this is the second time in as many weeks that someone was nice enough to do this for me. Man, I really am flattered. Stuff like this is worth 1000 flame letters… 10’000.

It’s embarrassing too… I mean, it’s not like I’m pulling a Scooter and posting my wish list, practically BEGGING people to buy me stuff. 

Thank you very, very much. 

But unfortunately, because of a few bad seeds, this week you all have to be punished. So this week, expect VERY LITTLE RASSLIN’ NEWS AND WALL TO WALL AIM CHAT TRANSCRIPTS!!! Featuring such luminaries as Flea, Widro, and… umm… RICK SCAIA, sort of. Welcome to hell… there will be NO commentary about how the Undertaker blows or how Jericho rules or how Randy Orton should get a cast on his arm, milk the bit for years, and call himself “Ace Jr.”… although that would be an AWESOME idea. Nope… none of that.

Oh and hello lambchops, I’m Chris. Welcome to the Midnight News. How ya feelin’? Good? Great!


Just letting you know that there is a brand new Hyatte’s Guide to Life over at Flea’s site. Topics include: Old crushes, when Sex = Depression, Is that Video Store Clerk more than “just being nice”, Am I with a loser?, How do I get out of the “Friend Zone”, All these energy pills has driven my metabolism nuts, and a dead serious question saved up for last… which gets a dead serious answer from me and a glimpse into something I’m going through in real life. It’s Hyatte and Eric and Gagnon, and Grut all on Flea’s site… while Flea does nothing (August 16th was when he last did a news column)

Oh, and after you finish the column, scroll all the way to the bottom and you’ll catch a surprise… in fact here’s more on the topic:


I honestly don’t know she bothers with me, but from time to time Tammy Sytch drops by on AIM and we shoot the shit a bit. Probably because I’m not like most scrubs and immediately go for cyber-sex (tried it on some other girls once or twice, years ago… wasn’t my thing).

Well, like I reported some time ago, currently, Tammy and Candido are working for Carlos Colon’s group in Puerto Rico and doing just fine.

But, she has read all the reports of how fat she’s gotten, so she sent me this recent photo and she wants to know if that REALLY is a fat ass. (This is where you scroll down and find it… best I could do on short notice and thanks to Flea for taking a break between jamming to “Freebird” and putting it up there)

Don’t tell me, tell her. This is her e-mail… set-up SPECIFICALLY so you can write to her… she swears she can handle any and all criticism… so have a party… just try not to be a total dick… she never did anything to you.

Whether or not she ANSWERS the mail is up to her… but she seems eager to get feedback, and to let us know that she’s still alive and in good shape… so say it loud and proud.

I’m not bullshitting either… this is no joke… I’m not trying to punk you out here. It’s legit. And other than setting up the account for her, (so none of you hacking geniuses can track her down), I have nothing to do with it.

Are you the web writer who gives out Butt Plugs or do I have the wrong guy?

Tammy to me very recently. 

The girl has a fine sense of humor.


Here, since I am intentionally RUINING YOUR LIVES, APPARENTLY by keeping rasslin’ news OUT of the column this week:

Goofus says that any broad with an attitude deserves to sit at home baking brownies and blowing sailors, like Goldylocks is doing because the NWA is sick of her cocky “ain’t I great” attitude.

Gallant says that Goldylocks is a bright, witty, beautiful girl who should be snapped up by the WWE if Jarrett and Russo don’t want her

Goofus says that Goldylocks has a face that looks like it’s seen 10 extra years of porn-style sex and is now waiting for the rest of her tight little bod to catch up

Gallant says that her face has character, panache, and is beautiful, with a touch of experience thrown in the enhance said beauty.

Goofus says that no one should pay a penny to order the next NWA/TNA when you can watch the same hillbilly motherfuckers throw down on Jerry Springer for free

Gallant says that for a penny, getting an NWA/TNA is an excellent bargain designed to lure in hesitant buyers to an very nice alternative to the same ol’ humdrum WWE product.

Goofus says that the one penny gets you a bullshit best of compilation PPV instead of a fresh, live show… and since most of the NWA talent never last past 1 or 3 shows, the audience is getting hosed!

Gallant says that a best of PPV gets rid of the bad parts and treats new viewers to the very finest product that the NWAS has done

Goofus says that Vince Russo is hung like an aardvark, is a loudmouth homo, and is riding on past glories from 100 years ago.

Gallant says that Russo is capable of a great many surprises and still can deliver quality content when properly motivated, as he has been as of late

Goofus says that AJ Styles is a FAGGOT

Gallant says that AJ Styles is a married, church-going, God-fearing athlete with a ridiculous amount of talent and people should order the PPV just to see him work. 

Goofus says that if he had his way he would bury Gallant up to his head in the sand and have 1000 Chinamen blow their load all over his face while big, nasty, AIDS ridden crabs nip at his ears, eyes, nose, cock and testicles and while sand worms burrow up into his ass and make themselves at home.

Gallant says, “Sounds like a time, yo… hook me up!”

The choice is yours.

(Psst, hey stupid… order the damn PPV… it’s only a penny)


Now this is strange, but screw it, you’ll enjoy it.

Remember some time ago when I pointed out how the WWE wouldn’t hire Missy Hyatt or April Hunter because they like to pose naked? (Well, that and because Missy is ragged out), yet they used Vivid Video porn star Devon as a model for their “Be the Next Diva” contest? Here, the whole, rambling story is right here, just scroll down a tad 

Well, this contradiction hasn’t stopped.

The winner of the Diva contest, Jaime Koeppe is, for all I know, a sweet, caring gal who feeds starving lepers in her spare time and certainly DESERVED to win…

Yet… she has posed nude… naked as a jailbird. Nothing hardcore, but still.

Here… see for yourself 

It takes a while for it to download on DSL, so I imagine that it’ll take forever to DL on a phone line… but it’s YOUR new WWE Diva nice & nekkid.

I say, if you’re gonna let lil’ Miss Birthday Suit work for the company, give April Hunter a shot too… she’s hot, smart, loves to wrestle, isn’t half-bad at it, and has hinted at enjoying other chicks! Plus she dates a black man, so that makes her a wee bit… umm… 


But don’t even THINK about hiring Missy unless she does what’s right and puts out for Hyatte… after all the traffic I sent to her God Dammit.

And hire GoldyLocks… for christ sakes, the girl is young, hot, quick witted, and photogenic.

And would it kill you to give Tammy another shot? Jesus, you gave Rena a new deal and she tried to sue your ass!!

Thanks to “Mr Charisma” for setting up the quickie web page filled with those photos!


Hyatte1com: Widro... it's high time I start offering prizes. Be a sport and get me some to hold contests for

Widro: i cant talk

Hyatte1com: fair enough

Hyatte1com: see ya

Widro: from now on if i say "i cant talk" that doesnt warrant tons more IMs, it means i cant use IM to talk to you

Hyatte1com: fair enough

Hyatte1com: see ya

Widro: signed off at 11:14:01 AM.

So, as you can see, I said “see you later” and that was the end of it… I wouldn’t have bothered him anymore…



That little Jewish munchkin… I just want to give him a HUG!

But later, I tracked Widro down so he could assist me with this next segment:


Over at Weinerville, where some people are apparently HELL BENT on living up to that name, Zimmerman’s brother – named “Guru” for some ridiculous reason - found something amusing about this site.

If you are of mind, zip over to Rotten and read their terms of service statement. Oh, nevermind, here it is:

Rotten Tomatoes shall not be held liable for any direct, indirect, incidental, special, consequential or exemplary damages, including but not limited to, damages for loss of profits, goodwill, use, data or other intangible losses (whether or not Rotten Tomatoes has been notified of the possibility of such damages).

Okay… now check out what 411 used for OUR terms of service statement: shall not be held liable for any direct, indirect, incidental, special, consequential or exemplary damages, including but not limited to, damages for loss of profits, goodwill, use, data or other intangible losses (whether or not Rotten Tomatoes has been notified of the possibility of such damages).

HAW!! Funny.

Of course, it has since been changed. Well, altered just a touch. It’s till the exact same statement really.

But, I simply HAD to grab Widro and DEMAND AND ANSWER:

Hyatte1com: so, which one of you geniuses used rotten for the 411's TOS?

Widro: we both did, who the hell wants to write that crap?

Who the hell wants to write that crap… yes, pretty much the PERFECT explanation. I have no further questions.

Except for one… which I will ask because Widro likes CRZ so he won’t…

I’m sorry, but just WHO, in their fucking RIGHT MIND, would even BOTHER to go check out websites terms of service statements and even NOTICE such a fucking thing? What kind of LOSER is this “Guru” to even have the time, or the INCLINATION to bother with this sort of nonsense.

Dude… please… go do something constructive with your life. Please.

Jesus Christ… fucking LOSER.


Flea: Only three writers in the world have ever meant anything, Hi-DebtisP8

Hyatte: Oh yeah, which ones?

Flea: Stephen King, George Orwell…

Hyatte: And?

Flea: (takes a long, drawn-out, desperate pull from his bong – followed by a nice, generous sip from his glass) and… whoever.

Hyatte: Whoever?

Flea: Yep

Hyatte: Who the fuck is whoever?

Flea: When you know, then you’ll know


Once in a while, when I ask for suggestions from the audience, I really get a sense of who is reading.

That’s confusing, but for real it’s like this: When I ask for movie quotes, I usually get reamed with a billion Kevin Smith movie lines. When I ask for wrestling quotes, I usually get hit with Raw stuff from recent years. A while ago I asked for songs to bang a hottie by, and got nothing but Usher tunes. I make fun of Scott Keith, and get hammered with messages of support. Sometimes, like with Scooter and Kevin Smith, I have to scream at you to cut the shut because you’re driving me loco, but normally, I’m just flattered that you care enough to participate.

(Which is why I enjoy those flame letters so much… the bad net writers are the ones who get NO reaction, good or bad… unless you get nothing but bad reactions, then you may want to start re-thinking this whole net career and ask whether it’s your bag)

So when I asked for book suggestions, I got a ton of different names (and, thank God, no one suggested Stephen King, which would defeat the purpose of offering up NEW writers that you may not have heard of), but one name that stood out most, the one a LOT of people suggested, is the subject for this week’s book selection.

The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT FIGHT CLUB!

When people suggested Fight Club to me as a book, I said no. I’ve seen the movie 100 times already. What could I possibly get out of the book when I already know the swerve ending? So, although I’ll probably get around to reading it, it won’t be for a while.

But I kept Chuck Palahniuk, the guy who wrote the book, in mind. And I looked over all the other titles from him that the people suggested.

Palahniuk is an odd duck of a writer. He is famous, but not ultra-successful (although, I think, that will change sooner rather than later); he is respected, by critics and his legions of fans who idolize him, but he hasn’t had had a mega-best seller. He is the walking/talking example of a “cult figure”. He writes, and his fans devour it fast and demand more. 

Palahniuk’s style is dark, to say the least. He has his characters do things “normal people” wouldn’t even dream. The book I’ve picked for this column is filled with such stuff, it’s called Choke and, well, it doesn’t exactly have a set plot. It’s more of a high octane character study of a man who hates himself almost to the point of suicide (yet you get no sense of depression from him). He is convinced that he is a piece of shit, and intentionally goes out his any to prove it constantly. But the problem is, the lead character, named Victor Mancini, is actually a decent fellow, so there’s this inner-struggle that makes up who he is.

The main thrust of the book is Victor’s relationship with his mother. As a child, Victor recounts time after time when his mother kidnaps him away from various foster homes, but in the present setting, Victor’s Mom is going slowly dying in a Nursing Home and she does not recognize him as her son, so much of the book revolves around Victor’s attempt to get his mom to tell him exactly what she thinks of “her son”. In between, Victor frequents sex-addiction meetings (and has regular sex with a few of the women there), works at a colonial theme park with his best friend (Denny, a recovering chronic masturbator who, mid-way through the book, ends up channeling his energy into collecting stones for reasons that will become clear towards the end), and makes a lot of money by causing himself to choke to death at various fine restaurants (how he turns that into a money making “pyramid scheme” is the least plausible aspect of this book), and flirts with a Doctor at his Mom’s Nursing Home who… well, that’s something you’ll have to find out for yourself.

Choke moves swiftly. It didn’t take me too long to read it. And, just when you think you have a handle on where this is going: BOOM, a HUGE plot twist rears its ugly head right on page 153, which makes Victor REALLY question just how much of a shitbag he really is.

Did I mention it’s a black comedy? Well see for yourself. This excerpt is from chapter 27, and it’s a perfect choice for me to put in here because it’s a break-away from the main story, not to mention funny as hell. In this excerpt, Victor has just slipped into a girl’s window and is now in her closet, waiting for her to come out of the shower. 

The plan, of course, is to rape her:

How tonight’s supposed to work is I hide in the bedroom closet while the girl’s taking a shower. Then when she comes out all shiny with sweat, the air steamy and fogged with hair spray and perfume, she comes out naked except for a lacy bathrobe. Then I jump out with some pantyhose stretched over my face and wearing sunglasses. I throw her on the bed. I put a knife to her throat. Then I rape her.

Simple as that. The shame spiral continues.

Just keep asking yourself: “What would Jesus NOT do?”

Only I can’t rape her on the bed, she says, the spread is pale pink silk and will spot. And not on the floor because the carpet hurts her skin. We agreed on the floor, but on a towel. Not a good guest towel, she said. She told me she’d leave a ratty towel on the dresser, and I’d need to spread it on the floor ahead of time so not to break the mood.

She’d leave the bedroom window unlocked before she got into the shower.

So, I’m hiding in the closet, naked with all her dry cleaning sticking to me, the pantyhose over my head, wearing sunglasses and holding the dullest knife I could find, waiting. The towel’s spread on the floor. The pantyhose are so hot my face is running with sweat. The hair plastered to my head starts to itch.

Not by the window, she’d told me. And not by the fireplace. She said to rape me near the armoire, but not too near. She said to try to spread the towel in a high-traffic area where the carpet wouldn’t show much wear.

This is a girl named Gwen I met in the Recovery section of a bookstore. It’s hard to say who picked up whom, but she was pretending to read a twelve-step book about sexual addiction, and I was wearing my lucky camo pants and cruising her over a copy of the same book, and I figured what’s one more dangerous liaison.

Birds do it. Bees do it.

I need that rush of endorphins. To tranquilize me. I crave the peptide phenylethylamine. This is who I am. An addict. I mean, who’s counting?

In the bookstore coffee shop, Gwen said to get some rope, but not nylon rope because it hurts too much. Hemp gives her an inflamed rash. Black electrical tape would work too, but not over her mouth, and not duct tape.

“Pulling off duct tape,” she said, “is about as erotic as getting my legs waxed.”

We compared our schedules, and Thursday was out. Friday I had my regular sexaholics meeting. No chits for me this week. Saturday I spent at St. Anthony’s. Most Sunday nights she helped run a bingo event at her church, so we settled on Monday. Monday at nine, not eight, because she worked until late in the evening, and not ten because I had to be at work early the next morning.

So Monday comes. The electrical tape is ready. The towel’s spread, and when I leap at her with the knife she says, “Are those my pantyhose you’re wearing?”

I twist one of her arms behind her back and put the chilled blade to her throat.

“For crying out loud,” she says. “This is way out of bounds. I said you could rape me. I did not say you could ruin my pantyhose.”

With my knife hand, I grab the front edge of her lacy bathrobe and try to tug it off her shoulder.

“Stop, stop, stop,” she says and slaps my hand away, “Here let me do it. You’re just going to ruin it.” She twists away from me.

I ask if I can take off my sunglasses.

“No,” she says and slips out of her robe. Then she goes to the open closet and hangs the robe on a padded hanger.

But I can hardly see.

“Don’t be selfish,” she says. Naked now, she takes my hand and presses it behind her back, turning to press her bare back to me. My dog’s nosing higher and higher, and her warm slick butt crack’s gumming me, and she says, “I need you to be a faceless attacker.”

I tell her it’s too embarrassing to buy a pair of pantyhose. A guy buying pantyhose is either a criminal or a pervert; either way the cashier will hardly take your money.

“Jeeze, quit whining,” she says. “Every rapist I’ve ever been with has brought his own pantyhose.”

Plus, I tell her, when you’re looking at the pantyhose rack, they have all those colors and sizes. Nude, charcoal, beige, tan, black, cobalt, and none of them come in just “head-sized.”

She twists her face and groans. “Can I tell you something? Can I just tell you one thing?”

I say, what? 

And she says, “Your breath is really bad.”

Back in the bookstore coffee shop, while we were still scripting, she said, “Make sure to put the knife in a freezer before-hand. I need it to be really really cold.”

I asked if maybe we could just use a rubber knife.

And she said, “The knife is very important to my total experience.”

She said, “It’s best if you put the edge of the knife to my throat before it gets to room temperature.”

She said, “But be careful, because if you cut me by accident” – she leaned toward me over the table, jabbing her chin at me – “if you even scratch me, I swear I’ll have you in jail before you can get your pants back on.”

She sipped her herbal chai and set the cup back in its saucer and said, “My sinuses would appreciate if you didn’t wear any kind of cologne or aftershave or deodorant with a strong scent because I’m very sensitive.”

These horny sexaholic chicks, they have such a high tolerance. They just can’t not get banged. They just can’t stop, no matter how degrading things get.

God, how I love being codependent.

In the coffee shop, Gwen lifts her purse into her lap and digs around inside it. “Here,” she says and unfolds a photocopied list of the details she wants to include. At the top of the list it says: 

Rape is about power. It is not romantic. Do not fall in love with me. Do not kiss me on the mouth. Do not expect to linger after the act. Do not ask to use my bathroom.

That Monday night in her bedroom, pressed into me naked, she says, “I want you to hit me.” She says, “But not too hard and not too soft. Just hit me hard enough so I come.”

One of my hands is holding her arm behind her back. She’s grinding her butt against me, and she’s got a kick-ass tanned little bod except her face is pale and waxy with too much moisturizer. In the mirrored closet door, I can see her front with my face peeking over her shoulder. Her hair and sweat pools in the crack where my chest and her back press together. Her skin has that hot-plastic tanning-booth smell. My other hand is holding the knife, so I ask, does she want me to hit her with the knife?

“No,” she says. “That would be stabbing. Hitting someone with a knife is stabbing.” She says, “Put the knife down and use your open hand.”

So I go to toss the knife.

And Gwen says, “Not on the bed.”

So I toss the knife on the dresser, and I raise my hand to slap. From behind her, this is really awkward.

And she says, “But not in the face.”

So I move my hand a little lower.

And she says, “And do not hit my breasts unless you want to give me lumps.”

See also: Cystic mastitis.

She says, “How about if you just slap my ass.”

And I say, how about if she just shuts up and lets me rape her my way.

And Gwen says, “If that’s how you feel, you can just take your little penis and run along home now.”

Since she’s just out of the shower, her bush is soft and full, not matted down the way it is when you first take off a woman’s underwear. My free hand creeps around to between her legs, and she feels fake, rubbery and plastic. Too smooth. A little greasy.

I say, “What’s with your vagina?”

Gwen looks down at herself and says, “What?” She says, “Oh that. It’s a Femidom, a female condom. The edges stick out like that. I don’t want you giving me any diseases.”

Is it just me, I say, but I thought rape was supposed to more spontaneous, you know, a crime of passion.

“That shows you don’t know shit about how to rape anybody,” she says. “A good rapist will plan his crime meticulously. He ritualizes every little detail. This should be almost like a religious ceremony.”

What happens here, Gwen says, is sacred.

In the bookstore coffee shop, she’d pass me the photocopied sheet and said, “Can you agree to all these terms?”

The sheet said, Do not ask where I work.

Do not ask if you’re hurting me.

Do not smoke in my house.

Do not expect to stay the night.

The sheet says, The safe word is POODLE.

I ask what she means by safe word.

“If the scene gets too heavy or if it isn’t working for one of us,” she says, “you just say ‘poodle’ and the action stops.”

I ask if I get to shoot my wad.

“If that’s important to you,” she says.

Then I say okay, where do I sign?

These pathetic sexaholic chicks. They’re so damn dick-hungry.

Without her clothes, she looks a little bony. Her skin feels hot and damp as if you could squeeze out warm soapy water. Her legs are so thin they don’t touch until her ass. Her flat little breasts seem to cling to her rib cage. Still holding her arm behind her back, watching ourselves in the mirrored closet door, she has the long neck and sloped shoulders of a wine bottle.

“Stop, please,” she says. “Or I’ll scream.”

So I drop her arm and step away. “Don’t scream,” I say. “Just do not scream.”

Gwen sighs and then hauls off and punches me in the chest. “You moron!” she says. “I didn’t say ‘poodle.’”

It’s the sexual equivalent to Simon Sez.

She twists back into my grip. Then she walks us over to the towel and says, “Wait.” She goes to the dresser and comes back with a pink plastic vibrator.

“Hey,” I say, “you’re not using that on me.”

Gwen shudders and says, “Of course not. This is mine.”

And I say, “So what about me?”

And she says, “Sorry, next time bring your own vibrator.”

“No,” I say, “what about my penis?”

And she says, “What about your penis?”

And I ask, “How does it fit into all this?”

Settling herself on the towel, Gwen shakes her head and says, “Why do I do this? Why do I always pick the guy who just wants to be nice and conventional? The next thing you’ll want to do is marry me.” She says, “Just one time, I’d like to have an abusive relationship. Just once!”

Wouldn’t we all?

It’s definitely an “out there” type of book, and the plot just more or less sneaks up on you. 

It’s out there, for sure, but the prose is quirky and smooth. It’s a dark, dark comedy about finding oneself, and accepting who you are. It’s clear, exploring a person’s dark side is a theme that Palahniuk likes to muse on about.

The book seems uneven, like a canoe with no oar to guide it going down an active stream, but eventually you’ll hit the end and think, “Oh yeah, that makes sense.”

Plus his style is completely his own.

So, if you’re up for something different, yet filled with fun stuff, read Choke by Chuck Palahniuk 

I am fucking Hyatte and by God I will MAKE YOU READ!!!


I did say I would bring this back just for special occasions.

The following exchange is long… but keep an eye on the time here. Let’s call this Eleven Minutes with the Rick!… enjoy:

Biggdeez53 [12:39 AM]: Big Pimp like you home on a Saturday night? Shocking isn't it

Biggdeez53 [12:39 AM]: oh wait what does that say about me?

Biggdeez53 [12:40 AM]: ahh shucks I guess we're both big losers, but at least I'm not the most read Internet Wrestling Celebrity ever, so I have an excuse

Biggdeez53 [12:41 AM]: oh are you trying to hook up with Scooter? if so I'll leave you alone, I know how easily you get distracted 

Biggdeez53 [12:41 AM]: I mean the phone might ring and it might be that girl that once talked dirty to you on the phone, and then you fell head over cock in love with her

Biggdeez53 [12:41 AM]: Christ block me already I'm running out of fucking topics to make fun of you with

Biggdeez53 [12:42 AM]: or just fucking sign off and go masturbate about how many people dispise you

Biggdeez53 [12:42 AM]: did i spell dispise right?

Biggdeez53 [12:42 AM]: isn't this the OORick from Ask the Rick?, well I just ASKED you a question, can't you answer it?

Biggdeez53 [12:42 AM]: C'mon yo do something fag

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: Dispise is that spelled correctly or not?

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: T-t-t-t-t-t-today Junior

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: Do you have a cock in your butt?

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: seriously do you?

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: that's not yours?

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: is your's long enough to put in your butt?

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: mine isn't

Biggdeez53 [12:43 AM]: not that I've tried

Biggdeez53 [12:44 AM]: I'm not queer

Biggdeez53 [12:44 AM]: I'm to ugly

Biggdeez53 [12:44 AM]: as the Bloodhound Gang once said

Biggdeez53 [12:44 AM]: do you like the Bloodhoung Gang?

Biggdeez53 [12:44 AM]: probably not because they're not queer

Biggdeez53 [12:44 AM]: I heard you only liked Elton John because he was gay

Biggdeez53 [12:45 AM]: you don't even think he's a good performer you just hope that one day you and him can get it on

Biggdeez53 [12:45 AM]: so you buy all his albums in hopes that he'll notice you and your lack of a penis

Biggdeez53 [12:45 AM]: RICKY? are you ignoring me, seriously that's so rude

Biggdeez53 [12:46 AM]: what did that girl on Full House say when someone was rude?

Biggdeez53 [12:46 AM]: I figure you would know, because you had an affair with the Olsen twins when they were 3

Biggdeez53 [12:46 AM]: I mean that would almost make you straight though, so that can't be true

Biggdeez53 [12:47 AM]: Although I heard that you only had intercourse with them because that was the only way to get Dave Coulier hard, so you could blow him right after

Biggdeez53 [12:47 AM]: seriously how you do you expect to make friends with people if you don't respond to questions?

Biggdeez53 [12:48 AM]: Or maybe you're going through your loner stage? You read how Hyatte was gonna be alone forever so you figured if you said you would be alone forever too, some dude would come around and give you some man love?

Biggdeez53 [12:49 AM]: Wow I'm completely bored with, and I'm not even reading one of your columns FIRST TIME EVER. Later you're adoring fan ADMIRA

Biggdeez53 [12:49 AM]: RICKY?

Biggdeez53 [12:49 AM]: RICKY RICKY R-I-C-K-Y

OORick signed off at 12:50 AM

You know… you read this and get the feeling that the Rick JUST DOESN’T CARE!!

This would have NEVER happened when Wrestleline was rocking… oh no, back then, the Rick was LOVED, ADORED, RESPECTED!!



The following is from a phone call between me and Flea, it’s all true:

Me: So, (someone in particular) actually waits for me to log off before logging on and saying Hi to you.

Flea: I guess

Me: Wow. At least I know (someone in particular) still cares.

Flea: Nevermind that. Remember when I told you that I thought I already had the best version of the Stones “Gimme Shelter”?

Me: Remember when I told you about how I invented Kevlar?

Flea: Shut the fuck up. Well, I just found an even BETTER version of the song, HI-RATE!!! 

Me: whoopie

Flea: Listen to this…

(he plays the song)


Me: sure.

Flea: I’ve got to go.

Me: Go? Where?

Flea: I’ve got to go. You’re trying to knock me off my cloud.

Me: I thought you were playing “Gimme Shelter”? Not that song about getting off people’s clouds 

Flea: You’re bringing me down, Hi-Late, I won’t let it happen. YEEHAW

Me: right

Flea: I’ve got to go jam.

Me: Jam?

Flea: hell yeah! GOT TO JAM TO THIS!!!! LATER!!!

He hangs up.

Ladies and gentlemen, I posted this just so you understand that Flea, a 32 year old rich guy, spent his Sunday evening playing air guitar to the Stones.

Air guitar.

Alone… in his office.

If that sonafabitch doesn’t wear a mullet I will cut off my penis and mail it to Trish Stratus.


Great job and many thanks to all who sent out quotes for this and for movies. Keep ‘em coming.

*note: some of these may be wholly imagined.

Anybody who doesn't get a kick out of the Hurricane is not somebody I'd like to talk to.- Mick Foley

FAGGOT, FAGGOT, FAGGOT (the whole crowd)

And listen to this reception for San Francisco’s own Brutus Beefcake.- Jesse Ventura

Oooh, Hyatte, no one has ever made me climax so many times so fast, you really are the King!- Trish Stratus.

You should thank me Dreamer ‘cause since I got rid of your bitch your breath doesn’t smell like the cum of everyone in the locker room. on ECW. - Buh Buh Ray Dudley back in ECW

Oh…. Oh SNAP!!


You know, like with the wrestling quotes you guys are more than welcome to send in favorite movie quotes too… just make sure they are accurate.

This comes from easily one of the funniest movies of all time:

Its a beautiful song. What's the title? 

Lick My Love Pump- This Is Spinal Tap

And this doesn’t come from one of the funniest movies of all time:

You see Ms. Teschmarker, my level of intelligence cant be grasped by your everyday idiot.

Hey Mr. Luthor 

Oh Ottis I was just talking about you. -Superman

I said it last week, I’ll say it this week and I’ll say it until the earth blows up:

That’s Gene Hackman, bitch. Gene The Fuck Hackman.


Over at Maven’s web site you find THIS message:

Hey Guys, 

After speaking with Maven on the telephone, he is looking to his website and his fans to name his new finisher. If you don't know already, Maven's finisher is a middle-rope swinging ddt. 

Please vote the names given or supply your own - Only serious posts please as Maven will be seriously considering all the options given to him. 

Thanks, Staff 

First of all… Maven’s site has a fucking STAFF? BULLSHIT!!

Second of all… Maven’s last name is HUFFMAN? Maven’s a JEW?? Get out! I thought Whoopie Goldberg was the only proud African American allowed to… oh nevermind

Third of all… well, actually, there is no third of all. They do have a nice list of names you can vote on… with the funny thing being that 93% of the votes are going to “Other”… and people are making up names.

Made up people are making up names, ‘cause I can’t believe that maven has fans… fans who go to his site and participate in this nonsense.

Anyway, if you want to go see for yourself, and maybe vote… here are some names for his finisher that I recommend:


“The Anyonepayingattentioner”

“The Yes Massa”

“The Curtain Jerker”

“The Move No One Will Sell”

“The Lucky Bastard”

“The Who Gives A Shit”

“The Mave In the Shader”


“The Chris Harvard Still Gets A Better Push Even Though I Won The Damn Thing/Must Be ‘Cause I’m Black” Stunner

“The Uncle Tom”

In all fairness, I’m making these up on the fly and it shows.


Had enough inane AIM chat transcripts yet? Well too bad, you’re being punished, remember?

Gooseisforever: your colum sucks

Hyatte1com: but my column is cool

Gooseisforever: it SUCKS and so do you

Hyatte1com: In do not suck... I blow... please understand that

Gooseisforever: triple h is the best champion ever and deserves his spot

Hyatte1com: I agree

Hyatte1com: and Goose is dead... he had to die so Maverick could learn to fly alone

Gooseisforever: wade keller should go to your shantytown and kick your ass

Hyatte1com: He is welcome to try

Hyatte1com: but he lives in a small town outside of Minneapolis... not exactly the hub of cultural activity... shanty, indeed, sir

Hyatte1com: plus, I'm sure wade has a billion other things to do before he would want to kick my ass

Gooseisforever: mark madden, then

Hyatte1com: Mark can try too... but Mark is a millionaire. I doubt he'd risk the lawsuit

Gooseisforever: I do impressions

Hyatte1com: come on... it's okay to not like me, but don't go crazy and start liking mark madden

Gooseisforever: Who is this: "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH AND IT'S TIME FOR AAAAAAAAAAA*splat*"

Hyatte1com: Umm.... Elvis?

Hyatte1com: John Lennon?


Hyatte1com: now that's Chris Farley... bravo

Hyatte1com: bra-fucking-o

Gooseisforever: What is the first thing Chyna should do when she comes out of hiding? ---The dishes, if the bitch knows what's good for her.

Hyatte1com: that's not an impression

Hyatte1com: You've been a wonderful audience, but is it okay if I go back to work now?

Gooseisforever: Okay, how about this "Lex, I told you before, I want to break up!"

Hyatte1com: Lex, Lex, Lex.... umm... Sting?

Gooseisforever: I'm leaving, it's good to see you finally have AIDS.

Hyatte1com: you can't see that online

Gooseisforever: I hope you get teabagged by the Big Show

Hyatte1com: too late

Hyatte1com: been there, done that

Gooseisforever: good, I hope his sack was good-n-sweaty

Hyatte1com: shouldn't you be leaving? You did sort of promise

Hyatte1com: here, I'll let you get the last word

Gooseisforever: Okay, the last word is HULKAMANIA RULES

Hyatte1com: attaboy

Hyatte1com: whoops

Gooseisforever: u wish you could have a hottie like Stephanie

Gooseisforever: FARTS

My favorite part is when he stopped bitching at me and started doing impressions out of the blue

Okay, punishment is over… time to take it home with something FUN!!!


Well, I asked…and I received.

The “Apter Family” of magazines, knee deep in more bullshit than the business itself, has probably been the main source of rasslin’ news for many, if not all of us… and, thanks to Vince letting the whole “This bullshit is exactly that, bullshit” cat out of the bag, not to mention the rise of the Internet, not to mention the fact that, you know, the audience GREW UP AND SMARTENED THE FUCK UP, the whole PWI family is now suffering from years of phony bullshit.

And bad bullshit, at that. Oh, how they slapped out some HORRIFIC tales of phony crap that, even the densest of us, couldn’t exactly buy 100%.

Anyway, I said we’d do 25, but common sense got the better of me, so here are the TOP 15 BULLSHIT STORIES that the PWI Family laid on us…

(and thanks to all who contributed)

15- Michael Hayes celebrates the Freebirds new contract with the UWF by riding an elephant down his street naked while gulping from a bottle of Jack Daniels

14- How Lex Luger orders a drink at a bar: “One part orange juice, two parts pineapple juice, ginger ale, shake, pour, serve

13- How George “The Animal” Steele orders breakfast: “BAGELS!!”… then, when the waitress asks if there’s anything else: “LOX!!

12- Dusty, Sting, Dr. Death, Luger: How the “Dudes With Attitudes” met in a seedy bar and planned on destroying the Horsemen once and for all. (The reporter was there, in disguise) Dusty’s notable quote: “ We all know that U.S. title that Windham's got rightfully belongs to me.

11- How Tully Blanchard won the US title from Magnum T.A.: He messed with his head by charging him and Dusty Rhodes with “white slavery” when they had Babydoll as a valet.

10- Was Mike Von Erich put on this planet to be the Freebirds “natural enemy”? Is that why the Freebirds were so scared of him?

09- Adrian Adonis vs Ivan Putski in a grudge match that they DIDN’T want anyone to know. (said story revolved around a picture of Adonis looking directly into the camera while having Putski in an arm-lock… reporter was, of course, in disguise)

08- How Ken Patera stumbled onto a secret summit between Bruno Sammartino, Bob Backlund, Andre the Giant, and Pat Patterson as they discussed plans on to how to rid the WWWF of all it’s bad guys (hmm, looks like someone mined the archives for that Dudes With ‘Tudes story ten years later)

07- A report from the “Wresting Institute” (location: Parts Unknown, but probably Jersey) which examined the effects of the Piledriver. Turns out, the Tombstone was the deadliest

06- The Legend of how the Ultimate Warrior walked into a bar and twisted a screw so tight with his hands that to this day, no man has been able to loosen it, even with a wrench. 

05- “Earl Hebner MUST BE FIRED”… after, of course, Ted DiBiase bought and cosmetically enhanced his DOUBLE screwed Hogan out of the WWF title. See, it was a credibility issue.

04- How Stan Hansen almost KILLED Liz Hunter for interviewing his wife. Liz and the wifey covered for her by telling Stan that she was doing a report on his BBQ sauce. 

03- Who is Princess Diana’s FAVORITE WRESTLER?? Why, Davey Boy Smith, of course. Oh, and that Steve Regal fellow, well, in this EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW, AN UNNAMED MEMBER OF THE “ROYAL FAMILY” lets the reporter see proof that Regal is NOT of royal blood. He WAS, however a member of the “Reegal” family who’s reputation among the upper class is legend for their dirty deeds.

02- PWI cover-boy Stu Saks LAUGHING while Sgt Slaughter puts him in the Cobra Clutch, then spends an ENTIRE COLUMN explaining that it really, REALLY hurt and how he actually passed out!

And the number 1 PWI hunk of bullshit we’ve ever been made to believe:

01-That “Hot Chick” reporter Liz Hunter and “Grizzled Vet” reporter Matt Brock and “Token Jew” reporter David Rosenbaum were ACTUALLY REAL PEOPLE!!!!! THAT LIZ WAS HIT ON BY RICK RUDE; THAT BROCK THOUGHT THE ROCK & ROLL EXPRESS WERE “GOOD, CLEAN KIDS”; AND THAT ROSENBAUM… ROSENBAUM…

Actually, I was long gone by the time Rosenbaum showed up… so I never read him.

And there are SO many more stories… I simply MUST do this again sometime.

Just not now… now I have to bail.

Eric handles the heavy lifting, Josh once again proves he’s the one IWCer who is a better all around writer than me (no shame in admitting that), someone does Friday (I have no clue, sorry), Daniels does Saturday, and Jay Bower jams his column with real news and… ick… cartoons. I’ll show up next week with something.

This is 1Bob