The Midnight News 11.17.03
Posted By Hyatte on 11.17.03
Survivor Series, Tammy Luv, Flea, Reading Material, Lugar, Drunk Chicks, Widro, and Tons of Crap
Real sports on HBO recently did a segment on pr wrestling deaths and the correspondent said that out of any sport in the world, wrestling has the most deaths. A prowrestler is three hundred percent more likely to die young than any other athlete. Ninety-five percent of the wrestlers who died in the past ten years were affiliated with the WWE. If you think that McMahon has nothing to do with it, you are more ignorant than you sound. The cold and callous way that you call these men and women stupid is just another sign of your immaturity. These people were men and women with families that love them. Maybe you don't have that in your life but I am pretty sure that most of these people did. The business is a tough life that I am sure that they all have made sacrifices for but they were not willing to die for it. The pressures and work schedule is enough to break anyone, and that is DIRECTLY McMahon's fault. The fact that there is no health plan is DIRECTLY McMahon's fault. The pain and the injuries that the WWE force you to work threw is DIRECTLY McMahon's fault. I know these people are adults and they choose to be prowrestlers on their own but no matter who you are, you need somebody to be their for you, and the WWE has done a poor job of that.
BadBoyJ516
So, this guy took everything I said last week, and the only thing he got out of it was me calling wrestlers “stupid”… and he even totally fucked up the context there too.
IMECILE!!!
Yes.... a few weeks ago, I wrote to you with my complaints. Yes... I used the word "we" when only speaking for myself. Yes... I stand by what I wrote and think your better columns were from years gone by. Yes... I recognize that change happens everywhere, and I understand that also applies to the content of your columns. And finally... yes... like so many before me, I complain and complain and still come back to read you the following week.
All this being said... good job on this weeks column. A solid effort. Perhaps your ranting is what did it for me. Perhaps it was your double dose of Tammy. Perhaps it was the SKeith content. Perhaps it was that I was in a better mood. Who knows. I just thought I'd let you know I do appreciate the effort you put forth; even though I may not always care for the content. However, I will admit that I would rather have a net with you then
without. No matter how much I might bitch.
Bob Gallant
Aww, thank you… now I’ll be sure to bang out a shitty column this week and fuck with ALL OF YOUR HEADS!!
Hello Cumguzzlers, I’m Chris and this is the Midnight News. This column will be a bit different tonight, what I have is two or three HUGE segments and just a couple of little ones, as opposed to several little ones surrounding one giant one… so you get less variety, but still a novel’s worth of material. So let’s go.
BUT, PLUGS
FINALLY, a new Advice column over at Flea’s site . In it, I answer questions about girls, confidence, girls, self-assurance, women, and chicks… and football, and Sean Shannon. Go there and wallow in my brilliance, just like I do all the time.
SURVIVAL OF THE SERIEST
You’re reading this for Survivor Series results? Jesus Christ, WHY?
Okay, fine…
Are you waiting for me to do it MOP-UP STYLE!?!?!?!?!?!? Sorry, can’t. See, the Mop-Ups worked best with TV… with commercials and RAW IS WAR and Nitro running around completely bewildered as to how they can stop the ratings slide… trying to Mop-Up PPV’s is a nightmare because it’s wrestling oriented… every aspect that made the Mop-Ups what they were is pretty much taken away on a PPV… that’s why I tried to Mop-Up ppv’s for 411 a couple of ears ago and it didn’t work.
So, here’s what happened on the SS…
-Cena did a rap, Holly was a sap, Albert was out in a snap, Bradshaw was bombed like a Jap, Morgan didn’t do crap, Jones closed the gap, Angle walked into a trap, Lesnar did tap, and the Big Show was the nightcap. Cena and Benoit were put on the map.
-Molly’s lips were bright red, Lita’s ass looks well fed, Molly workrate has always led, I wonder if she ever gave Savage good head.
-Kane fought Shane, match had a lot of pain, the blows each man did rain, on our patience this feud did drain, in the end Vince’s son was slain.
-Lesnar and Goldberg did meet, the confrontation was a real treat. Seriously, it was very neat.
-Bischoff and Mark Cuban did a skit, Cuban shoved Bischoff and the crowd was lit, Orton ran out and popped Cuban like a zit. I’ll be the first to say this rhyming gimmick is nothing but shit.
-The Bashams were ready, out came Chavo and Eddie, the match was pretty steady, I have a boner thinking of Trish in a teddy.
-Austin vs Bischoff was a hell of a show, Steiner was the first to go, Booker’s pin was a critical blow, Mark Henry went down nice and slow, all black men went out three in a row, RVD ain’t no homo, Buh Buh’s hair never seems to grow, Michaels blood started to flow, Christian’s ass Michaels did mow, HBK cranked out Jericho, Austin went psycho, Batista came out from the front row, Orton got the final crow, Austin’s fired but he’ll be back don’tcha know.
-Undertaker was in a bad mood, Vince was praying to the upstairs dude, Vince’s bleeding bordered on lewd, Taker made this a one-sided feud, Kane showed up and his brother was screwed, Vince won and the fans felt jewed, how rude.
-Goldberg speared all, Flair really had a ball, Batista and Orton ran into a Jewish wall, Hunter shocked the smarts and took the fall, the night ended with Goldberg standing tall.
-All in all a solid night. The matches were good and the workers were tight, Michaels was better than all right, Goldberg killed everyone and was quite a sight, Everyone worked a good fight. A’ight.
Well, that sucked.
A BITCH FROM THE SYTCH
Oh, I love the Tammy Sytch column. It makes your little Midnight News thing seem………important.
Mike
Yeah, like I’m arguing with that.
Makes me look like an honest to God studmuffin too.
Not only is she back, but she’s putting more effort into this than 90% of the “real” web writers out there with their own columns. Including ME!?
Why I like Trish and Tam’s RAW
Well, its time for another week of rambling. I've seen very little of the big feds product this week, so I'm going to take the chance to talk about someone I've been wanting to compliment for a while. Trish Stratus.
Why? Well Trish is obviously a beautiful WWE diva, but for the first time, in a long time, perhaps ever, has the WWE finally gotten a diva who not only has the looks, but has the talent, and most importantly has the desire.
The women’s title has never really been anything to anyone, not since the beginning of time. Sure Moolah had it, and 100's of years ago women battled it out for the belt in matches that were perhaps as epic as the men’s, but no one paid to see Mildred Burke fight whoever, they came to see Bruno and Gagne etc, etc. Not to say anyone will be selling out auditoriums to see Stratus fight Molly either, but at least now the women's division can be a decent affair to watch and entertain, mostly due to Trish.
When the women's title came back around when the roster only consisted of Sable and Luna, dare I say, it was insanely pathetic as Sable could only perform a few badly timed punches, a powerbomb where the opponent did all the work, and a top rope frankensteiner that also consisted of her essentially falling while the other worker had to work his/her ass off to make it look decent. It’s no surprise that during most of this reign, she fought either Jackie who was glad to have the job, or her husband who made sure she looked like a million bucks, which of course, in the end got him nothing.
Fast forward a few years, and the title is still kicking around, but only barely, as Ivory, Jackie and a few others literally passed the title back and fourth for years. WWE brought in some new blood in Trish, essentially hoping to revive the division some with a new beautiful Babyface. The problem was, she couldn't wrestle, she never had. When Trish first came to the WWE I really didn't understand what the fuss was all about, she was pretty yes, but no more so then anyone else. She was marketed really strange, as a manager to T & A, in which she did basically nothing. During this time she trained to wrestle, and when she finally debuted....she was terrible.
WWE decided since Trish was 5 foot nothing, she'd wrestle in these huge platform boots that had to be 6 inches tall. Its no wonder of course, that she fell a LOT during this time, she looked like she could hardly walk much less wrestle. Eventually the Gene Simmons boots were gone, and she started to come in her own, having a great brawling match with Stephanie. Yet she still really was a very generic women's wrestler in a very generic women's division.
However, after the fall of WCW, Fit Finley was put in charge of the division, and not only has the caliber of enemies for Trish gotten better, Fit has clearly noticed that one girl REALLY wants to be a wrestler and that’s Trish. First, dare I say, that in the few years Trish has been with WWE she has gotten prettier, I don’t if its her slight weight gain, added leg muscle, or what, but I think she looks much better as a wrestler now, then she did as a manager when she debuted. I did some fitness modeling, and when she just looked like any random fitness model, I wasn't all that impressed....Now however, hubba hubba!
Anyway, back on the subject of wrestling. Take any MALE or FEMALE wrestler in the WWE and watch their matches in the past 2 years. NOT ONE, person has added as many moves to their arsenal as Trish. Trish not only can put together a amazing match these days, but she constantly adds new moves. The corner head scissors was a jaw dropper when she first added it. THEN, she added the matrix move. Then WHAM, she has a Matrix move head scissor, that when pulled off to perfection is amazing. Trish as well, continues to take bigger and bigger bumps. Sadly the title still doesn't mean much, but as a wrestler and a character Trish is becoming a reason to watch WWE. As well, when she has the title, or is in the hunt for the title, there is suddenly a reason to care about the belt, if only because you can honestly watch Trish and see her improve with each match.
Congrats Trish on being a real wrestling superstar.
But that’s just my Bytch!
Now for some questions and answers, as I have a lot more feedback this week to weed through....as well someone calls me on my booking abilities.
First off Dave asks in response to last week:
Q: I ordered NWA-TNA last week, and loved the show. However, you said bringing in Lex Luger was a good thing, and he definitely didn't put up no "Tears in Heaven" performance. Would you use him again if you were NWA? What’s your thoughts on all that?
A: Well, I haven't seen all of the match, but I did see enough to know that Luger didn't stun anyone with anything amazing. However, in his defense it was his first match back in a few years, AND he has been through a lot in the past 8 months, AND this is Lex Luger we're talking about here, not Ric Flair. HOWEVER, all that aside, he did do exactly what he was there to do, and that was put A.J. Styles over. No matter how you slice it, AJ did pin Lex Luger, and that has to count for a little something. You asked me if I personally would use Lex again, and my answer is yes, but here is how. 3 Matches. First, he'd job to AJ putting Styles over big in a singles match, second he'd lose to Sting in a grudge match, and third I'd have him beat Kid Kash in his final match/retirement match for Lex, as he goes out as a big face, after Kid Kash smarts off to him about his past. Afterall, Lex ain't a bad guy, and he really should be on his way out anyhow, so I'd give him a proper sendoff. But that’s just what "I" would do.
Alex Ross asks.....
Q: What did you think of Terri getting stripped on this week's Raw?
A: I didn't see it, but Terri getting stripped has only happened 400 billion times in the past few years. Its old by now, I agree that Terri is there for only T & A values, so I don’t know I'd have her interview people in a bikini or something. Why waste time making a big deal out of her being stripped to bra and panties when that’s her only real value to the company?
Jon L. writes:
Q: How much bullshit would you say you get per day from people who think they know you?
A: I get plenty of wacky emails thanks to this column, but the good outweigh the bad, although hearing stories of people's masturbation habits does get old.
Frank asks:
Q: What’s your thoughts on Jillian Barberie?
A: She's annoying, but pretty hot, and works hard because she's on 400 TV shows, so you gotta give her credit for that.
Mike asks:
Q: I was a big wrestling fan growing up as a kid. Stopped watching when I started college. Got back into it in 1995 when I saw Nitro on TNT. Then I started watching WWF. In the last couple of years I stopped watching again. Any suggestions for someone to get back into it?
A: If your looking for Wrestling on TV, I suggest coughing up $10 for NWA-TNA. It’s about what you'd pay to see a Indy show, and its in your living room once a week. Otherwise, order some tapes from Japan, or go to your local indy. Unfortunately good wrestling just isn't free anymore, but check your local listings for a TNA free show or a Indy show that often air on cable.
And we'll round out this week's column with some fantasy booking, with Jake's
question:
Q: WWE sucks, they can't make ONE freaking star. I agree there should be some new gimmicks, and some more old school kid appeal to the product. How would you turn things around for Raw brand? I mean, its easy to say they should do this, or do that, but I bet you couldn't juggle all the storylines with a set of wrestlers.
A: Well, I'm not usually one to get into this whole fantasy booking thing, but with some booking experience under my belt, here is what I would do as a writer for WWF. I'm also going to go the cheap route and rid Triple H of the Raw roster, and make only one trade from Raw to Smackdown.
Fantasy booking.
Lets face it, you can't change the style of WWF, so no hiring a bunch of guys who do high-risk. Here, I will start at Survivor Series, take over Raw, for a couple of PPVs, and you tell me what you like better. My version of RAW, or the real RAW. Remember, story arcs take place over a course of a few weeks and months, so some things on a single show may not make sense, but if they continue a story they make sense in the end....
SS: HHH vs Goldberg:
Triple H gives it everything he has, but loses to Goldberg. Including Orton and Flair getting spears, and Orton Jackhammered to end the show.
Team Austin versus Team Bischoff:
Team Bischoff wins, sending Austin to Smackdown.
NEXT RAW: Bischoff comes out, and says since Austin is gone, Raw is his show. He doesn't want Goldberg to be champion anymore, and calls out Evolution. Trips wants a
rematch, but Bischoff says no go, and instead says Triple H and Evolution are in a rough spot, he wants Goldberg out and they can't get the job done. Cue Austin's music, he comes and out and says, he is gone from Raw, but since he is going to be on Smackdown, he is offering Evolution a spot on Smackdown's roster with him. Trips says that if Bischoff can't get him a title shot, he's off to Smackdown and he's taking Flair, Orton and Batista with him. End segment, Bischoff is freaking out with some of his biggest names gone.
Conway and Dupree versus The Dudleys:
Dudleys start out strong, and set up tables. Conway puts Bubba through a table, and the two double team D-Von, winning the tag belts.
Backstage Kane comes up to Bischoff and offers his services in taking out Goldberg, so long as he can kill Goldberg. Bischoff gets a big smile, and says he's free to do anything he wants to Goldberg so long as he gets the belt off him.
Rico versus RVD:
Van Dam dominates most of the match, and Rico gets frustrated. He wipes off the paint, and in a Bob Backlund moment, snaps. He hits RVD with a chair, causing a DQ, then proceeds to hit RVD 4 more time with a chair, hits Miss Jackie with a chair as well as the referee. RVD retains IC title but is left in a heap.
Goldberg catches up with Bischoff. He says he's not afraid of Kane, and wants him at the PPV. Bischoff says that’s up to Kane, but Goldberg has Chris Jericho tonight.
Trish versus Molly Holly: Trish defeats Molly after a good match and a run-in by Gail Kim.
Backstage Jericho celebrates with Trish, and they kiss.
HBK versus Test: Test calls out anyone who thinks they can beat him, and HBK answers. Quick decent basic HBK squash match. Afterwards, Michaels gets on the mic and tells Test he should go back to Canada with the rest of the sore losers.
Lita and Christian versus Richards and Victoria: Lita and Christian win big. Afterwards, Christian kisses Lita, who objects. Christian says they can be a couple just like Trish & Jericho. Lita mulls it over, until Matt Hardy hits the ring. Lays out Christian, and says with HHH & Evolution on Smackdown, Raw needs some Mattitude. Takes Lita in his arms to a "Face" ovation.
Backstage Lance Storm asks HBK what he meant by Test should go back to Canada with the rest of the losers. Michaels downplays it and says Storm is looking into it too much, and should go dance on Heat, since that’s what he's good at.
Main Event: Jericho versus Goldberg: Goldberg and Jericho do the usual, with Goldberg going over big. After a jackhammer, Jericho appears hurt. Trish runs down to check on him, as Goldberg is leaving the rampway, he is met face to face with Kane.
Bischoff voiceover to close the show tells Bill Goldberg to look at the man he's facing at the next PPV.....face to face staredown to close show.
END WEEK ONE!
Okay, just for shits and giggles, I'll do week 2, then next week I'll do the next 2 weeks, and you tell me which Raw you prefer.
WEEK 2, RAW:
Show opens with Matt Hardy and Lita in the ring. Hardy tells Lita he is glad to be on Raw with her, and that he wants to know if she still loves him. She does, they embrace....Out comes Rico, who says Hardy is just another guy stealing his spotlight, that he's worked YEARS for. Hardy says he just wants to be with his girlfriend, and that it isn't Rico's business. He likes Rico, and thinks he deserves another IC title shot. Rico agrees, and leaves....Hardy gets on one knee and proposes to Lita. As she says yes, Rico runs back out and levels her with a chair. Then Hardy. RVD runs out to chase off Rico, off to commercial.
Recap what just happened, and show Hardy fuming in the back as Lita is stretchered off. He is raging mad and promises to find Rico and kill him.
Conway and Dupree versus Cade and Jindrak: Conway and Dupree do a decent match with Cade and Jindrak, and go over them, keeping the tag belts.
Backstage Bischoff finds RVD and says he has Rico tonight, for the belt. RVD is happy as he wants Rico. Hardy busts in and says HE wants Rico. Bischoff says he'll have to wait in line, and RVD pats him on the back saying, he'll take care of Rico for the both of them.
Jericho finds Trish and asks her if she wants to join him & Christian in a sneak attack on Goldberg for what he did last week. Trish says Chris should change his ways, and she likes him, but won't turn heel for him. He says he likes her too, but he's gotta be his own man.
Lance Storm versus Mark Henry: 5 Minute White Boy challenge, is answered by Lance Storm. Storm is wearing his red and white long pant tights, and defeats Henry in under a minute with, a missile dropkick, drop toe hold, sharpshooter combo. Big pop for Storm.
Goldberg and Bischoff bump heads backstage, Goldberg says he's glad he's got Kane. Bischoff says since he likes wrestling so much, he'll get to try his streak out tonight against Christian. Goldberg says Christian is next.
Kane promo highlighting his evil turn and his match against Goldberg being signed.
HBK versus Test, week 2. Test once again calls out HBK, telling him that he got lucky last week. He wants a rematch and he wants it now. Test and HBK have a better match this week, with HBK once again scoring the pin after a superkick. Lance Storm find his
way to ringside, then superkicks HBK and asks for the mic. He wants to be serious for a minute, and is definitely tired of HBK badmouthing Canada. HBK is scum, Bret Hart is a legend. Challenges HBK at the PPV, and finishes it off with a Sharpshooter.
Rico versus RVD: Match starts and immediately Matt Hardy runs out and tackles Rico. The two brawl, and are pulled apart by RVD. The three brawl, as they all want their
hands on each other.
Bischoff comes out, and says Rico is showing him something he likes. Hardy versus RVD next week, for the IC title, the winner also gets Rico at the PPV.
Scott Steiner versus Hurricane: Steiner wins, afterwards tries to beat up Hurricane some more, Goldust makes the save.
Hardy and Rico brawl, security pulls Hardy off and throws him from the building. Rico smiles, but is attacked by RVD.
Goldberg vs Christian: Goldberg slaughters Christian, Jericho with the run in and gets a spear for his efforts. Lights go out and Kane is in ring.....SPEAR to Kane. Goldberg walks out, and Kane rises up, and stares down Goldberg.
END WEEK 2.
So lets recap what we have going so far:
Dupree & Conway, tag champs, STRONG. Trish and Jericho, bf & gf, on different sides of the fence. Rico loose cannon wanted by RVD & Matt Hardy. IC title mix. Goldust & Hurricane alliance. Lance Storm wants HBK, Canadian pride. Goldberg/Kane unstoppable monsters World Title Feud.
That'll do it for me as that whole RAW thing ended up being entirely longer then I expected. However, I'll give you a bit more next week and see what you guys think of it.
As well, I'll be back to answer some more questions and give you my unique thoughts on some other tidbits of wrestling.
You can see she’s into this… AND having fun doing it. So e-mail her
And don’t worry Sugartoes, make them as long and as detailed as you want. Less work for me to do, so I can do more important stuff like And Another Thing: The Taking of Triple H (Wednesday 11.26.03).
Now excuse me, I have GOT to go plan just how I can get a little ménage a three-way out of this… possibly with me even involved.
A MESSAGE TO FLEA
The following is a 100% true story, it occurred last Tuesday
Me: (dials a phone number)
Flea: You’ve reached *** ****, please leave a message after the beep
BEEP
Me: SO YOU THINK YOU CAN STONE ME AND SPIT IN MY EYEEEE, SO YOU THINK YOU CAN LOVE ME AND LEAVE ME TO DIEEE… OHHHH BABY, CAN’T TO THIS TO ME BABY, JUST GOTTA GET OUT, JUST GOTTA GET RIGHT OUT OF HEREEEE BNAW NAW NAW NAW NAW NAW NAW NAW NAW NAWANWA NAW BNAWNANANAAA
Then I hung up.
I need to get laid more, yo.
THE MIDNIGHT NEWS BOOK-OF-THE-TWO-WEEK-CLUB
Flea: Only three writers in the world have ever meant anything, Hi-Lotonmypla8
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
********************
So, short stories have their good points and bad points.
One of the biggest good point, of course, is that if you like the author, then you have several stories with several different plots all in one handy, dandy volume. You can usually read one story a day, finish it in a sitting, and know that there are a few more stories from the same writer waiting for you tomorrow.
One of the biggest bad points to a short story collection is, of course, you miss the fullness of a complete, multi-layered novel. After you get to the half-way point of a short story collection, you can’t help but flip to the end to see how far you have to go before you hit the last page of the last story.
This is the problem with anthologies. Anthologies are short story collections from different writers. Ideally, the collection mixed big time known authors with somewhat unknown authors in order to give the reader a wide variety of styles, as well as introducing the reader to someone new.
These types of books do not sell well because, well, the big time writer usually phones their contribution in while the unknown writer shows just why he or she is unknown… because they’re just not all that good. I tend to avoid anthologies for that very reason, I go through them and always end up moaning, “Is it over yet?” (but that’s a problem with me, I always have to try to finish something I start… it takes a lot for me to shut the book down and say, “enough of this crap.”)
But this anthology grabbed my attention because of the huge assortment of writers they got for it.
In one book, McSweeney’s Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales, you have stories from Stephen King, Michael Crichton, Elmore Leonard, Nick Hornby, Dave Eggers, Harlan Ellison, Michael Chabon, Glen David Gold, and Neil Gaiman… to name a few. That is certainly an all-star line-up (and it may be a complete all-star line-up… just because I am not familiar with some of the names inj this collection doesn’t mean that they are unknown). It was edited by Michael Chabon, so I decided to take a shot.
And… well…
Put it this way, I read every story except the last one. About a quarter of the way through, I slammed the book shut and said, “That’s it, I can’t take this anymore… next book.”
I’m not sure what went wrong for me… but that doesn’t mean it would go wrong for you. You might like this. Why not?
Anyway, I’ll give you a taste of what this book holds… which is tough since it’s filled with so many different voices, but this voice tells one of the better stories. The story is called “Chuck’s Bucket” by Chris Offutt. In it, Chris sort of breaks the fourth wall by mixing real life and science fiction. It starts off as a ghost story, but he tells it as it was happening to him in real life. I know that’s confusing, but if you check out this excerpt, you’ll see what I mean.
So Chris, the writer and protagonist, can’t sleep because he’s being visited by a ghost, so he contacts the smartest man he knows, a university professor named Chuck for help. Here’s a few pages of what happened:
I met Chuck in a local low-stakes poker game that had gone on for many years in Iowa City. He was the fish, the absolute worst player at the table, but charming and affable because he truly didn’t care about winning. He was there to study chance itself. He’d play cards with John Cage, Jasper Johns, and Richard Feynman. Chuck was impressed that I knew the work of all three men. Since the game, we meet periodically for lunch and talked about my writing and his research.
Last night the ghost had woken me up several times, and at dawn I stepped on my glasses, which had fallen from the nightstand. Then my car wouldn’t start. I could get by on a single-speed bicycle and duct-taped spectacles, but the lens kept popping free of the twisted frame. I tried to glue the lens in place and only managed to smear the glass until it was translucent. I sat at my computer to work on a short story. It was about a guy who got himself cloned but the clone died and started haunting him every night. For two weeks I’d been unable to get past the opening.
After half an hour of self-torture, I called Chuck, seeking information about clones.
“Clones suck,” he had said on the phone. “The ultimate goal of clone research is to produce an army of Swoffies.”
“What’s that?”
“They cloned the most elite military specimen – a marine scout-sniper named Swofford – and now they just crank out Swoffies like a Xerox machine.”
“Well, maybe I can use them in my story.”
“I wouldn’t,” he said. “It’s classified information just to know the term ‘Swoffie’. You do and they’ll come after you.”
“Well, It’s really a ghost story anyhow.”
His diffident tone changed to sharp interest.
“Why ghosts, Chris?”
“It’s kind of complicated.”
“So’s quantum physics, but I manage to stay afloat.”
“It’s personal,” I said.
“Try me.”
“I think my place is haunted.”
“Was it always?”
“No, since about a month.”
“Come to my lab as soon as you can.”
I agreed and hung up the phone, surprised by Chuck’s curiosi6ty about something as absurd as a ghost. Any excuse not to write was sadly welcome, and I rode my bike to his office.
He came striding down the hall, his white lab coat billowing like an old-time cloak. He vouched for me at the first guard booth, then guided me through a series of security points to what was obviously his working office, an unbelievably cluttered mess reminiscent of Francis Bacon’s studio. A narrow aisle led through the knee-high debris of paper, books, drawings, empty pop cans, and candy bar wrappers. The walls held chalkboards filled with equations. There was no tech equipment in sight, no machines, not even a computer. Chuck became visibly relaxed in the disarray, and upended a garbage can for me to sit on.
“The ghost,” he said. “I want the whole story.”
I laid it all out and the longer I yakked, the more preposterous it sounded. For the past four weeks I’d slept quite poorly, despite changing my mattress and the position for sleep. I tried hot baths, warm milk, deep breathing, valerian, melatonin, and shiatsu. I tucked pillows beneath my neck, between my legs, and under my hips until I lay in a cradle of shims. Nothing worked. The ghost still woke me every night. When I snapped awake, it was there, lurking just beyond my sight.
Chick demanded details of time, frequency, clarity, sound, and temperature of the room. For the first time in our friendship, I had his full focus, like being scrutinized by a Cyclops. He inquired after my diet, alcohol, and substance use, vitamin intake, family history of mental illness. When I finished, Chuck sat motionless, his eyes shrouded as if turning his gaze inward.
“First of all,” he said., “there’s absolutely no such thing as ghosts.”
“I know.”
“Death means awareness ends and tissue decays. It is such a terrifying concept that we imagine an after-life. Some form of immortality is the one common denominator of all religions and many superstitions. Nevertheless, I believe you.”
“Maybe I’m nuts.”
“Could be, he said. “Are there any extenuating circumstances in your life?”
“I got divorced six months ago.”
“I mean in the past month.”
“I haven’t been able to finish a story,” I said.
He sat patient as a lighthouse keeper while I explained myself. A month ago, Michael Chabon invited me to write a story for an all-genre issue he’s guest editing of McSweeney’s, a San Francisco magazine. I refused because my father was a genre writer who’d published more than 150 books under various pseudonyms. I’ve long been terrified of copying him further than I already do.
Michael urged me to participate and I agreed. That night the ghost woke me up and I lay in the dark for a few hours, realizing that I didn’t want to write anyting anymore. I never really wanted to be a writer, and had only pursued the occupation in the hope that my father would like me.
I sent Michael an e-mail trying to beg off, saying genre writing was too connected to my father’s work. Michael e-mailed me back saying that he’d read my father’s work when he was young and wasn’t it cool that my dad was my dad. He also told me another contributor was Harlan Ellison, a science fiction author with whom my father had a public and long-running feud that began nearly thirty years ago at WorldCon.
Then I broke my glasses, and my car shit the bed, and I had returned to the story out of financial desperation.
“So,” Chuck said, when I finished telling him all this, “you have writer’s block.”
“No, I don’t believe in that. Other artists don’t suffer that way. You never hear of ballerina’s block. I just can’t finish the story. It’s never happened before and I think it’s the ghost’s fault.”
“It all fits together perfectly to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Time travel, Chris.”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe we should go back to the clones.”
“Think about e-mail. You send a note to someone, but they don’t check their e-mail for a week. Did your message arrive from the past, or did it enter their future?”
“I guess it’s the same.”
“Exactly! Anything in motion leaves a trail, even through time. What we call a ghost is really the footprint of a time traveler.”
“Great!” I said. “All you need is to invent a time machine.”
“I did. A month ago. I’ve been using chimps.”
Chuck was incapable of lying; to do so would violate his concept of science. I’d never seen him with such a grave expression, yet the skin of his face twitched with enthusiasm. After the poker game, Chuck had entrusted me with his biggest secret: “I don’t sleep with women,” he’d said, “because I’m gay. And I don’t sleep with men because all men are pigs. I love my lab and that’s enough.” Chuck’s an odd guy with odd quirks such as endlessly readjusting the ball cap he perpetually wore. No one would suspect him of being Iowa City’s resident genius, the intellectual darling of the academic community. If the quirky bastard said he invented a time machine, he had.
“Well,” I said. “Let’s have a look at it.”
He strode in a tight circle, gesticulating like a demented rap singer as he spoke.
“First of all, the math is outrageous. I mean it is completely out of hand, but wicked elegant.”
“Skip the math, Chuck. I’ll trust you on that.”
“Space-time bends, which means there can be shortcuts between specific points.”
“Oh sure,” I said, as if this was common knowledge. “You’re talking about wormholes. I saw it in a movie.”
Chuck gave me a look like I was a pup that had crapped on the porch. His voice was patient, yet clearly annoyed.
“I prefer to call them ERBs. It’s an acronym for Einstein-Rosen Bridge, since they came up with it in the thirties.”
“How do you get inside one?”
“Here’s the simple way of thinking about it. I make a photocopy of DNA and convert the image to digital information. I attach each binary numeral to a p-brane, and send it into an ERB, using a particle beam. And voila!”
“Nothing to it. Like making rice that won’t stick.”
“Two drawbacks,” he said. “Time travel is one-way.”
“You mean you get stuck?”
“No, that’s impossible. Writers make that stuff up. Think of e-mail. You send a message, but unless your friend is wired, he can’t receive it. Right now, time travel is one-way until we build a machine to reconstitute the information. It’s possible, but the math will take quantum computing.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a computer that uses the spinning nuclei of atoms to represent binary code. Ike Chuan out at MIT has one up and running, but the field is still young.”
“You said two drawbacks.”
“Controlling destination,” he said.
“What’s to control? I mean if you’re going to Des Moines, it’s always there. Des Moines never changes.”
“You have to adjust your thinking to a model. Imagine time as a wet mop in a bucket with the strings all tangled together. An ERB is your route into the bucket. You just don’t know which string you’ll land on.”
“Like getting on a bus to Des Moines and winding up in Cedar Rapids.”
“I know you’re being facetious, Chris. But you’re actually close. It’s more like going to a depot and getting on the first bus you see, knowing it’s leaving soon, but not knowing where it’s headed.”
“None of that explains my ghost.”
“It’s not a ghost, Chris. You are perceiving digital information encased in a cluster of mobile and sentient p-branes. This ghost suddenly manifested, right?”
“About a month ago, yes.”
“The same time when I completed my machine. According to my hypothesis, you are being visited by yourself. The fact that you came here today is proof. There’s no choice but to send you into the bucket. We have to fulfill our end of time’s bargain. Your ghost compels it.”
“You’re out of your mind, Chuck.”
“No, I’m afraid that you quite literally were out of your mind when you haunted yourself last night.”
“You can’t shove me through an ERB down a mop handle to a bucket in Des Moines.”
“What’ll it take to try?”
“New glasses,” I said, “and a car.”
“You can have my car, Chris. I abhor the combustion engine. Such little innovation in all these years. And I can arrange for new glasses through my insurance.”
I sighed, wishing I had asked for cash since he’d acquiesced so easily.
“Chris,” he said. “What have you got to lose?”
The fact was, I had nothing to lose except my life and I didn’t like my current circumstances anyway. Twenty years ago I’d set out to be a Great American Writer. I wanted to live in New York with literary buddies but instead I was divorced and unemployed with a few friends in a small Midwestern town surrounded by corn, soy, and white people. Everything I owned was secondhand. I didn’t even have insurance. I was lonely and my work was going nowhere. It occurred to me that if Chuck could send me into the future, I could read my story, then return and write the ending.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll give it a whirl.”
What happened next was really pretty fun.
Just as you might expect from any collection, it’s essentially a mixed bag of content. Elmore Leonard has a pretty good story about a boy who grows up to become a lawman. Nick Hornby has fun with a teenager who buys a VCR that can fast forward the REAL future. Harlan Ellison has a good take on the old story about climbing to the top of a mountain to seek the answers to life. Someone named Sherman Alexie has a story about zombies. My personal fave is Michael Crichton’s yarn about an alcoholic P.I. who finds out his wife is cheating on him.
But then there is the bad. Stephen King tossed in a story featuring his Gunslinger “Roland” that has nothing to do with anything related to his Dark Tower series. Kelly Link has another confusing story about people who hide in the skins of dead cats… I think. Someone named Rick Moody has a long, boring story about the future that I didn’t get. And the editor of the book, Michael Chabon, ends the anthology with some story that I couldn’t even finish. I was actually thinking of giving Chabon’s books a go, but after reading his short story, or trying to, I may not have the stomach. To me, it was that bad.
But you’re not me. You may like these stories, plus you may like to sample a whole bunch of authors in one book just to see who floats your boat. That’s the whole point of the book and of this book thing I’m doing, to let you sample stuff you maybe wouldn’t have.
Jesus people… THERE’S MORE TO READ THAN RASSLIN’ BOOKS, YOU KNOW!!! Besides, Austin’s bio sucks… horrible half-assed stuff.
So here’s what I suggest… seek out McSweeney’s Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales in the bookstore. Sit down at the store’s café with a nice beverage, and give it a solid looksee. Maybe it’ll touch your cit, maybe it won’t… maybe the clut will rise uop and say “howdy”, maybe it’ll stay sleeping… who knows? At least you can say you TRIED! And if you don’t do it for this book, I’ll have another one in three weeks that may be more to your liking. For you see, I have an agenda here… a mission…
For you see, I am fucking Hyatte and by God I will MAKE YOU READ!!!
dysLEXia
Lex Luger has been in a perfect role at exactly TWO points in his career: The first being when he first entered the NWA/WCW in a full suit and tie. He introduced himself to the TBS 6:05-8:05 Saturday afternoon audience by thoughtfully and articulately running down his background, both athletically and academically. He presented himself as THE “Total Package” and provided ZERO evidence to the contrary. It was, without a doubt, the best introductory promo a wrestler can possibly cut.
And then, to add a little spice to the mix, he capped off his promo with this:
“And as a man with my qualifications, I will only accept the best. A man of my stature can only be associated with the best, the elite. Which is why I’m here. There is a group out there that I feel best compliments my talents. They are called the Horsemen, and I want to be one of them…”
And he walked off, leaving David Crockett and Tony Schiavone speechless.
That was Luger’s first perfect role, the young, brash, arrogant, well-spoken God who was a force to be reckoned with. He stretched this gimmick out for years, first a Heel (Nikita Koloff didn’t look so BAD once Luger came to town, and he damn near forced Dusty Rhodes into retirement!), then a Face…
Then years dragged on and Luger sucked.
But now he shows up on NWA/TNA… amid all his little controversy in his real life… the fallen star… the lump of juiced up nothing… and yet, and yet…
I was watching Lex on NWA and it hit me… this is Luger’s SECOND most perfect role.
“I’m sorry, who are you again? A.C. Styles?”
He sits in the ring, with a big, cocky-ass smirk on his face, and hardly wrestles. But, that’s a PLUS…
I’m serious. A jacked up seasoned veteran who is convinced that his presense alone is enough for the fans. A cocky veteran who acts like they just want to see him preen in the ring. A God who came down to earth just as a treat for the viewer.
His opponent? That’s the funny part. A.J. Styles was a mosquito in Luger’s mind. Luger paid minimal attention to him. Here’s a shoulder block, kid. No? Okay, I’ll hip toss you a few times. Here, gettouttamyface. Styles wasn’t WORTH Luger’s full attention. Now THAT’S a Heel!
Which makes Styles pin on Luger so much more exciting. Okay, he needed Sting to hit Lex in the gut with a bat a couple of times, but so what? Styles pinned Luger clean, AND out of the Torture Rack. Now Styles is a star… he was anointed one last Wednesday. Icing on the cake, my friends.
Don’t look now, losers, but Lex Luger has himself a great gimmick again! Actually, he’s always had it, but now he can do some real good with it!
Oh, and if AJ Styles ever went to the WWE, Jamie Noble would suddenly get a “cousin”… and they would be forever mired in Smackdown mid-card hell.
BUT WILL THE WWE PLEASE HIRE GOLDYLOCKS!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!! SHE’S MAYBE THE SMARTEST, WITTIEST FEMALE IN THE BUSINESS!!!
Hire Low Key, too… boy’s got skills.
Chris Daniels don’t. There’s a reason he’s been an Indy boy for his whole life.
And someone please tell Jerry Jarrett that Erik Watts was brought back to the business by Vince Russo as a goof. Now the joke is over with, take him off air, PLEASE… he’s NOT going to get you one single new subscriber… and he makes you look like a bunch of clueless hillbillies.
And Mike Tenay still looks like he gets sloshed on Beefeater and tonic before, during, after each show.
LADIES LOVE COOL HY
The following is also 100% true, it occurred last Saturday night.
So, as many of you know, I spend my weekends getting PAID, MUTHAFUKKA
I do this by watching a state run apartment subsidy complex, located in downtown Pawtucket, Rhode Island.
Well, three a.m., Sunday morning, I clocked out and went to my car. There was another car parked in front of it.
Two girls who were squatting between two parked cars stood up and walked back to the car in front of mine. They were quite drunk. One of them was clearly embarrassed and hid her face, even after she got in the car. Obviously, they needed to pee and they needed to pee NOW.
The driver was also embarrassed, but smiling. She walked to the car and said, “Hi”.
I said, “Hi”.
“How are you doing?”
Being the smooth charmer that I am, I hit her with my stock answer, “Aces baby.”
She laughed and got back in her car and backed up and back onto the main road.
Once they were on the main road, a girl in the back seat opened her window and screamed, “ACES, BABY? I WILL SUCK YOU DRY!”
Being the smooth playa/operator that I am, I said the first thing that came to my head. I shrugged and said, “Okay.”
They took off and the girl screamed “WHEEEEEEEWWWW!”
It’s not much, but since my clubbing days are more or less over, it made my night.
That’s all. Oh, except to admit that my alternative response (ie: The best one I came up with in hindsight) would have been, “From all the way over there? Baby, I don’t have that sort of reach!”)
MY THREE STOOGES
Bish1980: What's up buddy
Bish1980 You're the man
Bish1980 the wo-man
Bish1980 the OOwo-man
Bish1980 with the big titties
OORick signed off at 4:08 PM
God Bless the Rick… now, if only he would hunt down Mike Samuda and MAKE HIM do columns again… then the Rick could ride coattails all the weay to popularity again and then I’d REALLY have some fun.
WORDS OF WI(S)DRO(M)
The following is a condensed version of two recent conversations between me and Widro.
Think of it like this: You are eavesdropping on a phone-call between two people, but can only hear one side of the conversation.
Now imagine just WHAT sort of Hell I was creating to get Widro in this state… because he’s NEVER like this… EVER… I swear… he’s as happy-go-lucky as they get 99% of the time.
Widro: you are being childish, but thats fine
Widro: dont threaten me please
Widro: fine
Widro: that was very shitty
Widro: you are a true asshole
Widro: talk to you later i guess
Widro: i thought you were rational
Widro: whatever you're hyatte, you gotta do what you want
Widro: i'm going to relax now
Widro: i'm tired of this
Widro: you are draining
Widro: i dont enjoy this
Widro: oh no! are you going to skip a week!?!? WHAT WILL I DO!!!
Widro: i'm tired of you
Widro: goodnight
Think this is something? You should have seen the original chat, THEN you should have seen the chat we had ABOUT the original chat that I was about to post… you never will, tho’… that’s the price I have to pay in order to get THIS posted.
I owe this kid a hug… come here, ya little blue haired rugrat
BYTE WHAT?
I’ve never done this… never thought to. Hell, it never occurred to me to even check it out.
But, as a public service to you, John Q. Stupid, I urge you… STRONGLY urge you, if you have the means and the high speed, to download and watch the latest edition of WWE Byte This.
It’s Bradshaw, Droz, Tazz, Hardcore Holly, and Farooq all talking shit and ragging on the host Josh Matthews. Just a bunch of legit tough guys chillin’ out and talking smack. Farooq is so loose he’s almost incoherent (ie: Boy be talking BLACK)…Absolutely great stuff, especially watching little Josh squirm.
-What do 200 abused women have in common? Then Hoes won’t LISTEN! Why is getting a divorce so expensive? IT’S WORTH IT
-You guys want to talk about Survivor Series?
Well we don’t want to talk about you you LITTLE BASTARD
-YOU CAN’T SAY SHIT ON THE INTERNET!! GODDAMMIT DROZ
-I guarantee you Vince McMahon has no idea this little bastard works for him
-Nowinski’s got organ problems… he’s got deficiencies, he’s got no balls
-Speaking of big asses… Molly Holly
Oh!
Oh Man, Bradshaw
Come on, tell her to haul ass, it would take her three trips.
-Are you gonna be sober watching the Survivor Series?
Oh Hell NO
Good, cuz I ain’t gonna be sober wrestling in it
-Okay Farrooq Jillian from England wants to know when you dropped Faarooq and went back to Ron Simmons
I never dropped Faarooq what kind of quest… who asked that damn ques..
Jillian from England, it’s an e-mail question
I never dro… who is this… where… where’s England?
-Okay Farooq, what’s the secret to longevity in this business?
Because he’s BLACK?? You little racist bastard!
-Welcome back, I’m Bradshaw and I’m gonna answer some of… oh crap, you’re back.
You said you wanted a piece of pizza.
I said I wanted a piece of ass.
Oh… (starts to get up)
Not you, you fruit booty.
-Next thing you’re gonna tell me is Jonathon Coachman is black.
He isn’t?
NO!
Then what is he?
He’s from Kansas.
And at the one hour mark, Bradshaw goes on a rant about the Blue Meanie and Jasmine St Clair that had the entire crew cracking up. WELL worth sifting through the boring stuff.
Now come on… how many times do I plug something WWE-ish? Obviously, if I like it, then it must be worth checking out.
WHO POSTED THIS CRAP?
I guess it’s no secret here, but it’s always nice when you find proof…
Pat McNeil, from the Torch, well he’s Full of SHIT
Is Scott Keith full of shit? TOTALLY!
And do you think people call 1wrestling 1bullshit for nothing? Although maybe 1dogshit might be more appropriate
But let’s be honest, I’ve been full of shit since coming to 411. Yes I have
The funny thing is, the only place that DOESN’T seem to be full of shit, is FLEA’S SITE!! Ironic seeing how no one shovels out bullshit more than Flea
Speaking of irony, I can’t see a better way to end this shittier than usual column than with that.
Next week, SMALL stuff and lots of them… and The Taking of Triple H will be only days away by then, so expect a full promotional blitz.
Just doing what I can, kiddos…
I think I need a blowjob. Volunteers? Anyone?
Ehh, you all suck.
This is Hyatte