The Midnight News 07.05.04 

Posted by Hyatte on 07.05.2004 

Who is Bobbi Billard? Flair's Book Reviewed!, Indy Gossip, Hunter, and the United States 

Hey Chris,

I've written to you before because I think you are a real talented writer, I enjoy your stuff, and you make me laugh. I don't understand why you waste your time chatting with a bunch of losers. You are better than that and if you are going to waste time there are a hell of a lot better ways to do it. I thought the Maestro chat thing was not one of your better efforts although educational for me. Message boards are bad enough but at least people put together some thought to their postings. Chat is like masturbation without the pictures, the hand cream, or the erection. What's the point? I don't want you wasting anymore time on that bullshit or I'm gonna find you and kick your ass. Keep up the good work and tell that Widro fuck to get rid of some of the popups on that ugly ass site of his. 


He is referring to this. An AOL Chat where myself and the Stro got into it, all for the adoration of a Trish Stratus imposter. Lame? You bet, but it was fun for me to watch someone get all bent out of shape while I busted his balls.

Hey, Widro fuck… get rid of the pop-ups. NOW! 

Hyatte- I have found it's more enjoyable reading about wrestling than it is watching it. I just don't care anymore. F'em... Anyway, if you could help me out I'd be in your debt big time. Can you pass this off to someone on 411 and get some hits to my ebay auction? I'm selling my entire collection of DVD's and VHS' for wrestling.

Love your column(s). Even though Monday morning I get a better laugh than Thurs. lol

Here's the link. 

Thanks a million,


Not a problem, babyluv. Ugh, now I’m feeling like Scherer. 

I have been a "Hyatte-fan" since the Scoops days, and I still read your columns regularly. How many other Hungarian "fans" do you have besides me?

Keep writing those articles, especially now that it is proven that the Spirit of God is present in them!


How many Hungarian fans do I have? Not many. Judging by all the fatsos that permeate the web, I have a funny feeling NO ONE is going hungry! HAW!!! (*rimshot) BA-DUM DUM!!! 

Hey cockface,

Mary Jane is not going to die at the end of Spider-Man 2, you dolt. They've got the movie-to-book adaptation out already (it has been for weeks, you douche. Try going into a Borders or something sometime), and trust me, the fuckin' thing is gonna have a happy ending. The real end? (DELETED BY HYATTE, SPOILERS WITHOUT WARNING SUCK). Spider-Man 3 is in the works. 

Kill off MJ this soon...What the fuck is the matter with your brain, man? Sheesh.


Yeah, so I was wrong on that one… boy was I EVER!

I still think we have the right (and bullshit) ending to The Village tho’

I’m not the cockface… YOU’RE the cockface! So there!

Hi Cockfaces (SEE!! YOU ALL ARE!!), I’m Chris and this is the Midnight News Alpha. We’re doing some things different this week. Guide to Life is postponed until Thursday. The Box office tally is out because no one has the numbers thanks to the Holiday, and I’m probably giving the movie quotes the week off because I have a LOT, a LOT of other stuff to tap, including a speial edition of the Book of the Two Week thing featuring THE book… No, silly, not the Bible (King James was a homo), the RIC FLAIR book… I got it, devoured it, and now have it reviewed… with an EXCERPT! 

So, I hope you’re there. It’s Monday, the Holiday is over… you should be in front of your computers staring dully at this while last night’s beer, hotdogs, and cheeseburgers settle nicely into your TUCKUS

So off we go…


Not sure HOW you could’ve missed Last Thursday’s column, seeing how Jeremy Botter was too busy shooting Iraqis to post anything, but if you did, you missed a whole BUNCH of stuff… an essay on why TNA sucks, a book club thingy, wrestling quotes, what Bad Ass Billy Gunn is up to, Widro, Flea… a lot of stuff!

Speaking of Flea… guess what he’s relaunching. What is the Rebuttal? Well, it’s something I was up to in 1998 considering who I was talking about in that piece, you’ll be amazed at how things change over time!


This is a story that peaked my curiosity because A: No one really covered it and B: the subject in question decided to bitch about it.

This is the website of Bobbi Billard. Nice girl, giant melons. Some of her pics pull a real Jenna Jameson vibe, others have her looking like Pam Anderson’s little sister. It’s a total pay site… so if you want to see free pics, google the bitch.

And THIS is Bobbi Billard’s Live Journal, where she’s speaking her mind and dishing dirt on her experiences as a WWE developmental.

So, Bobbi, a fitness model who has posed for numerous magazine covers, was a member of David McLane’s “Women of Wrestling” nightmare, and was a… heh… FEATURED performer on an episode of Howard Stern’s Son of the Beach show, decided to go all out and become a WWE Diva. She landed a development deal with the company and began working out in Ohio… under the watchful eye of Ivory and Tom Pritchard.

Well, she got hurt… and then she was let go. Someone didn’t think she was right for the position.

Bobbi Billard was offered a “severance” package of sorts, one that gave her a lump sum of cash in exchange for her signature on a paper which basically says, “shaddup and just say that you had other things you want to do”. Billard said no. A friend of hers, who also was hurt and who also was released, took it.

Now, Bobbi is feeling upset. She says that she worked her tight, hard little fanny off, 8 hours a day + OT to succeed, but Ivory didn’t like her. Bobbi says that Ivory pointed to both her and her friend, in front of everyone and said, “Girls like you two fuck your way up to the top!", which was humiliating. On another occasion, Ivory said, “I don’t want you taking my spot!” Which is somewhat valid. Ivory isn’t WRESTLING much these days but she does host the soon to be cancelled WWE Experience show… and this IS a world filled with Independent Contractors… paranoia is how Vince keeps all these egos in LINE! (the WWE officially claims that Ivory was just “cutting a promo”… which Billard laughs at)

So, because her training was so intense, Billard hurt her neck and couldn’t work for a while. Apparently, Pritchard wasn’t buying it, accused her of being a baby, and used her injury to facilitate her dismissal. The thing is, Bobbi has a legit neck injury and is due to go into surgery for it. Oops, so Pritchard misjudged.

Anyway, Billard (who really is a HOTTIE) is bummed, pissed, and disillusioned. She really wanted this and thought she could succeed, but was denied. And let’s face it, hot blondes like this girl are NEVER denied. You can go to her Live Journal and see for yourself how bummed she is.

Here’s the thing from my point of view… shit happens. This is the world we live in, you can’t ALWAYS get what you want because there might be SOMETHING about you that rubs someone the wrong way. I’m sorry, peaches. But it looks to me like you just didn’t make the right impression on Ivory. She has stroke, you don’t. Maybe she decided that you threatened her, maybe you were too damn good for her liking, maybe you didn’t blow Pritchard or even get the hint that he wanted to be blown? Or maybe you really did suck in the ring? I don’t know. What I DO know is that these days, more than ever, the WWE is on HIGH ALERT for people, ANY people, who can make them money… but they PREFER, they have ALWAYS preferred, unknowns with no history… that way they can build their stars from the ground up and collect ALL the residuals.

It’s human nature for someone to not like you just because you breathe the same air. It happens from time to time.

And quite frankly, the WWE has ENOUGH blonde models running around… had you continued your journey and made it to Stamford, you would’ve been FIFTH in line behind Sable, Keibler, Torrie, and Stratus… the first three you could’ve easily vaulted past with just a smidge of talent… but Jesus Christ, Stratus is so good it’s SCARY… plus she barked like a dog for Vince on live TV… would you have done that?

As I sloppily jump form talking to her to talking about her, let me add that I can see why she’d be pissed… again, hot blonde models usually get what they want, but if she’s reading (doubtful), and if she has an open mind, then use this experience as a lesson: sometimes, shit ain’t just meant to be. Sometimes it’s just not in the cards. Sorry, but that’s life. Sometimes, you just don’t charm the right people and they toss you out. Happens ALL THE TIME in this business.

You’re young, hot, stacked, and full of piss. You’ll do well. At the very worst, you can find yourself a sugar daddy and he’ll take care of ya.

Just don’t go knock on TNA’s door… unless you LIKE the idea of waxing Dutch Mantel’s backhair while sticking your toe up Bob Ryder’s arse. (those nutty hillbillys)

Good luck, sweets. You a fine piece of chicken!


Flea: Only three writers in the world have ever meant anything, Master-B8

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


This is special, so special that it gets a Monday slot and Guide to Life’ll get moved to the Thursday column.


Ever since Foley’s first book, which set the stage, we’ve been nailed with something like 2 or 3 wrestling bio books a year… some WWE approved, other not.

Ya know what the problem with these ‘rasslin’ books are (and I mean REAL wrestling books by REAL wrestlers, not… well… you know what I mean)? Several things quite frankly:

-1: Too young, too pointless: Only idiots bought “The Rock Says”. The dude was 27 when he had someone write it. What kind of fascinating life can one possibly have led at that age? Same with Joanie Laurer. Same with the Hardy Boyz. Same with Lita.

-2: Who cares? Some simply just aren’t popular enough to warrant their own bio. See Laurer, the Hardyz, and Lita. Now add Ole Anderson, DDP, Moolah, and Lou Thesz to that list. Outside of Memphis, Jerry Lawler is just, essentially, a Raw announcer with a serious jones for his ex-wife.

-3: Not honest enough. Many of these books tend to spin things so they look good, or at least innocent! Hogan’s book comes to mind. Goldberg’s disaster does too. 

-4: Overexposed. What, in GOD’S NAME was in “The Stone Cold Truth” that his fans didn’t know already? 

You wonder why these things didn’t sell? Because for the most part, they were scribbled down by people with dollar signs in their eyes. No more, no less. Hardly any real thought or effort put into these things. A few stories, a few admissions, some behind the scenes action, and presto… you’re done!

To Be the Man is like that: A few stories, a few admissions, lots of behind the scenes action, but there’s more to it than that. A lot more.

It’s the best wrestling book ever. Period. Right up there with Foley’s first book, except better written. Here’s why…

1- He kept his mouth SHUT. For 30 years, Ric Flair has stayed relatively quiet. The WWE or WCW never gave him a television special. They never did a huge “Life of…:” expose on him. He rarely gave deep interviews. He was one of the biggest stars south of the Mason Dixon line and no one knew much about him. He sat quietly as all these workers trashed him. He never made a peep. Until this book.

2- He’s humble. As with Hogan and Piper‘s book, the bullshit radar will be on high alert as smarks turn the pages. I didn’t get any sense of true bullshit. He laid his ass out there, warts and all and says: “Here’s what I did. I made a few mistakes, I made a few bad choices.” He blames himself when he has to, and blames others when he has every right to. 

3- He makes his bones. Everyone’s yelling about what he said about Mick Foley. Well, when you read the page he devoted to Mick, IF YOU DON’T SKIP TO THE PAGE AND INSTEAD, COME TO IT AS YOU READ, you’ll have a better idea as to why Flair feels the way he does. Once you read how he broke into the business, under Verne Gagne’s TORTUROUS training regime, and once you read about where Flair’s mind was at the incredible stress he was under while he was on the WCW booking committee while Foley was there, you’ll have a better sense as to why he dumps on Foley the way he does. He comes out and says that this is a RECEIPT for Foley trashing him in Have A Nice Day, but it’s not revenge. Flair’s just being honest with his feelings.

Besides, Scott Steiner, DDP, Jim Herd, Sid Eudy, Hulk Hogan, Eric Bischoff, and Shane Douglas get it FAR worse than Foley.

To Be the Man is 328 pages of no-nonsense story with plenty of pictures, but the story is meaty without over-staying it’s welcome on any one subject. Flair, with co-author Keith Elliot Greenberg and editor MARK MADDEN (yes, him) keep the book flowing. I sense that Madden knew what the audience wanted and had a wonderfully tight narrative to work with. Flair keeps his childhood story succinct (he was adopted; his parents loved him; he was always a party boy), breezes though his training/debut/move to the NWA/his first run as champion but without it feeling breezy. This is stuff you want to know, and are told. He doesn’t leave much out. It’s just paced EXTREMELY well.

Seriously, this is the best paced biography I’ve ever read. Madden deserves a thumbs up. Of course, I also spot two sloppy TYPOS in the book, MISSPELLINGS, LAZY EDITING. For that, Madden deserves a thumbs down. 

From there, Flair gets into the whole NWA/WCW/Horsemen period. Sadly, aside from a few stories (such as the Ladies-Only Horsemen party Flair advertised on WCW TV, which he really meant, hiring security to keep pissed off husbands and boyfriends in the lobby while their wives/girlfriends partied with the Horsemen), Flair doesn’t spend too much time ruminating on the Horsemen. Tully Blanchard gets a pair of paragraphs, tops.

Want to know what a “Dusty Finish” was? God knows there about 100 descriptions from “experts” on the web… well, the REAL definition is in this book. I can’t wait for some asshole to go online and say, “No, no, Flair’s wrong, THIS is a Dusty Finish…”

Flair discusses his first move to the WWF, his return to WCW, the rise of Bischoff, the hiring of Hulk Hogan, the Monday Night Wars, the huge controversy when Bischoff sued him, Russo, the WWF Takeover, and rejoining the WWF. The book even features a movie-like climax when McMahon gave him a Raw title match against Triple H, which plays like a massive redemption for the Greatest Wrestler who ever lived suffering from a self-esteem problem thanks to years of abuse from the company he worked so hard to save.

Complainers will bitch about how Flair, like everyone else who writes these WWE-Endorsed books literally soils himself trying to kiss the McMahon ass. Well, read the book, see how Flair has always looked at Vince since the 90’s. See how Flair talks about the way Vince treated him. With respect, with honor. Flair simply responds accordingly. 

IS there a WWE influence in the book? Sure, but not much. Whenever Flair references an old time wrestler, there will be a small aside like, this one was so in so in the WWF, that one had a lot of success as this gimmick in the WWF, there are also blurbs from other people scattered throughout the book, other co-workers adding their two cents in. Harley Race makes a few comments, Superstar Billy Graham is there for a couple, Triple H makes a few, Jimmy Crockett, Jim Cornette, and Arn Anderson make a bunch… and Mark Madden, because he just CAN’T be a total professional, is there for 2. Hell, even Dave Meltzer shows up for two (and Flair is just as nice to Meltzer as he is to McMahon, by the way). Buh Buh Ray Dudley is there a couple times too… which screams WWE Influence, but not enough for anyone to really pitch a fit over.

What’s interesting is who DOESN’T participate in the book. No Dusty Rhodes, no Roddy Piper (one of Flair’s best friends), no Hogan, no Bischoff (not surprising, if there is one bad guy in this book, it’s Uncle Eric… and Flair even talks about the fight he and Eric had in the WWE locker room, which plays like another movie 3rd act “redemption” battle), no Sting, no Luger, no Ole… 

One last thing before the excerpt… Dusty Rhodes. In the beginning of his career, Flair talks about how he idolized Rhodes and even catered his initial look to look a lot like the American Dream, but as the book goes on, Flair becomes more and more disillusioned as he sees the REAL Rhodes underneath the hero. It’s an EXCELLENT parallel to how, as fans, we tend to put these wrestlers on a pedestal where they can do know wrong, but as we become more and more serious fans, and we see how the business is run and how some of our heroes actually behave, we too feel disillusioned and angry that these people don’t live up to our ideals. I’m not sure if Flair, Greenberg, and Madden knew what they were doing when they structured Flair’s feelings on Rhodes with his growth as a superstar, but it becomes a perfect analogy.

That’s also the backdrop to the book. Flair is a humble man, a wrestler who just wanted to entertain us. A man who, behind the flash and the glitz, and the thousand dollar suits, can be just as vunerable to psychological attacks as anyone. Men like Jim Herd, Hulk Hogan, Eric Bischoff, and Vince Russo (though Russo wasn’t out to destroy Flair’s credibility in as much as he was out to destroy wrestling’s tradition, which included Flair in the package). Flair spends a great amount of time on how wrestling almost broke his spirit, and it took the McMahon confidence in him to get it back. Flair admits his shortcomings freely, admits that the whole wrestling lifestyle,, which he loved more than anything, destroyed one marriage and almost another… and almost cost him the love of his children as well. We are shown the man behind the hero… but we are not disillusioned, we grow to idolize him more! 

The excerpt I’m going with is one of about 10 that I really wanted to get in here… but this won out over a TIGHT race with Flair’s brief but potent assessment on the whole Von Erich family. Instead, I’m going with this cut…

It’s the early 1995 and Hulk Hogan just entered WCW and had beaten Flair three times in a row, with the third forcing Flair to “retire” in storyline. Flair went off to North Korea to participate in a New Japan/WCW Festival. When he came back, he is given a taste of the hell that Hogan and Bischoff was about to put him through. It’s now that Flair experiences first hand what “Hulk-A-Mania” was REALLY all about:

The moment I returned from Japan, I discovered that Hogan had started changing storylines around. He’d been manipulating things since a secret meeting I’d been at just before our first match in WCW. It was held at the Grand Floridian in Disney World, and Eric was there along with Kevin Sullivan and Jimmy Hart. Hogan said that he had some suggestions about improving the company, then handed out a list of people he wanted hired: Ed Leslie, or “Brutus Beefcake”; “Earthquake” John Tenta; Fred Ottman, who’d been Tugboat and Typhoon in the World Wrestling Federation; Wayne Ferris, aka The Honky Tonk Man, and “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan. Beefcake was Hogan’s best friend, and Tenta and Ottman were big guys who Hogan enjoyed wrestling—and beating. The others were also guys who Hogan liked having around. I liked Ottman and Tenta too, but what Hogan was trying to do was infiltrate the company with his buddies, so he’d have a comfort zone around him.

Hogan also had some thoughts about people he thought should leave WCW—in particular my closest friend, Arn Anderson. I guess Hogan considered me a threat to his power, and wanted to eliminate anyone he perceived as my political ally. “You’re out of your fuckin’ mind,” I told Hogan, and he let the matter drop.

Anyone who accuses me of playing favorites with Arn should compare him to Brutus Beefcake. Arn was a great wrestler and a phenomenal interview. Today he works behind the scenes in WWE as a road agent, using his extensive experience to coach the tag teams and help them lay out their matches. When you see a great match pitting, say, Charlie Haas and Shelton Benjamin against Chris Benoit and John Cena, a lot of the credit belongs to Arn.

Brutus Beefcake, on the other hand, is an idiot who’d insert himself into situations where he didn’t belong because of his association with Hogan. In Monroe, Louisiana, one night, Eddie Guerrero and I tore the joint down. Eddie was the good guy, I was the bad guy. But I was in a program with Hogan at the time, so Beefcake was worried. You see, Eddie’s only five-foot-eight, and Beefcake was afraid that if I took too much of his offense, the fans wouldn’t buy me as a viable opponent for the Hulkster.

As soon as the match was over, Beefcake walked up to me. “Hey, let me tell you something here,” he said, like he was going to give me a hit of cocaine. “I don’t think the big man’s gonna like the way you were selling for Guerrero. You’re giving him too much.”

I looked at him with disbelief. Eddie’s one of the best in-ring performers in the world; if anyone deserves to be made to look good, it’s him.

“Come on Ric,” Beefcake continued, “think about the big picture.”

As I look back on the conversation now, I’m astonished at how stupid Beefcake really was, thinking that he could tell me anything about wrestling.

Rick Wilson was a male stripper with a good body who Hogan brought in as “The Renegade”. Wilson painted his face and dressed up like the Ultimate Warrior. A lot of fans believed that he was the Warrior, but using a different name.

Not long after entering WCW, the Renegade wrestled Arn Anderson for his TV title. Hogan and Bischoff wanted the Renegade to win in thirty seconds, just like the Warrior did against many of his opponents, almost reducing Arn to enhancement staus. The match took about fifteen minutes, and sucked; the Renegade didn’t know how to wrestle. Afterward Bischoff complained, “We should have done it in fifteen seconds.”

“No,” I said, “we shouldn’t have done it at all. If the guy can’t work longer than fifteen seconds, he doesn’t belong in a position where he’s defending a championship.

Around that time, Kevin Sullivan and I were eating with Hogan, and I asked him about it. “What do you see in this guy?” I asked.

“I see a guy who wrestles like the Ultimate Warrior.”

I thought he was kidding me at first, but he wasn’t. Hogan was still mad about having to lose the World Wrestling Federation Championship to the Ultimate Warrior at Wrestlemania VI in 1990. He was actually grooming the Renegade as an Ultimate Warrior clone that Hogan could beat, somehow getting back the win. How many WCW fans do you think cared about a match that had taken place in another promotion five years earlier? But it sure seemed that Hogan was losing sleep over that loss.

In 1999, four months after being released from WCW, the Renegade shot himself to death in his kitchen in Marietta, Georgia. The guy obviously had other problems, so I’d never blame Hogan for the suicide. But I do blame both Hogan and Bischoff for inflating the kid’s ego and giving him the impression that he was capable of being a star.

Unlike the Renegade, there were so many guys I saw in WCW who were loaded with talent, among them Guerrero, Benoit, Chris Jericho, and Steve Austin. He and Brian Pillman were a tag team called the Hollywood Blonds. I had worked against Steve a few times, as did Steamboat and Arn, and we all agreed that he was a great performer. He had a positive attitude and went out of his was to make other people look good. Once, before a match, he approached me with a few ideas—almost all of them involving him making me look good. I appreciated his generosity, but had to stop him: “Steve, we’re all in this together. You don’t have to bounce around for an hour tonight. We’ll both bounce around. We’re equals.”

I saw a ton of potential in Steve Austin, and believed that he could be a singles star. But the people running WCW claimed that he was injury-prone and bland, and resented his habit of speaking his mind. So when Steve was home recuperating from a triceps injury, the company fired him.

Once again, I was on the WCW creative committee—for a while, I was even considered the primary booker—but it was the same as last time. The members rotated: Kevin Sullivan, Mike Graham, Greg Gagne, and “Superstar” Bill Dundee were all on the committee during various periods. And regardless of my position, I didn’t have enough stroke to keep a guy like Austin on our roster.

Hogan always maintained creative control of his character, and often had us fly down to Tampa to have booking meetings at his house. Not that it made any difference—we’d spend weeks putting a TV show together, but on the night of the event, he would come in and change things around. It’s hard to be the booker when your primary job responsibility is making sure that one guy is happy.

I gained some interesting insight into Hogan during this period. He was fixated with Dave Meltzer’s Wrestling Observer newsletter, the so-called “dirt sheet” that a lot of the guys condemn—even though they regularly pass it around and read all the gossip. Like Bret Hart and Mick Foley, Hogan thought the Wrestling Observer was the Bible. I swear, he spent more time talking about Meltzer than Sting, Ted Turner, or Vince McMahon. I once asked him, “Why would a guy with fifty million in the bank care so much about Dave Meltzer?” 

“Twenty million,” he corrected me.

My entire motivation for being on the booking committee was finding a way to survive. I wasn’t paid an extra dime. But the strategy frequently worked against me. I caught a lot of heat for my relationship with Arn. I pushed for him to join the committee, and make no apologies about it. Arn’s the perfect guy for that position; he has people skills, the knowledge and authority, and—perhaps more important—he’s respected by his peers. Not everyone shared my opinion, and the friendship drove a wedge between Bischoff and myself. Once, when I suggested that Arn win the TV championship, Eric sneered, “You could roll Arn Anderson in shit and he wouldn’t draw a fly.”

Let me explain just how offensive this was to me. Despite the fact that our matches are predetermined, wrestlers are forced to be competitive with each other. We’re independent contractors, so we have to find our own way in the business. It’s almost like we’re not allowed to be friends. Even when wrestlers are nice to each other, they’re still walking around lonely. Yet Arn and I had become as close as brothers, and everyone knew it. For Bischoff to make a comment like that in front of a group of people was like slapping me in the face.

I could practically hear Hogan’s voice coming out of Eric’s mouth as he elaborated, “Arn’s not colorful. He doesn’t move merchandise.” Well, how many wrestlers did once they left the World Wrestling Federation marketing machine for WCW? 

One guy who I was certain could sell a few T-shirts was Randy “Macho Man” Savage. He’d been relegated to an announcer’s job in the World Wrestling Federation and could have been doing more, so Eric and I used the same strategy we employed to recruit Hogan. First, I called Randy up, then Eric and I flew to Florida and took him out to dinner, selling him on the company.

Later, when the discussions turned to dollars and cents, Bill Shaw asked me, “Is Randy Savage worth half a million?”

“I think he is,” I replied. “Name recognition. We’re trying to build a company. He’s another piece of the puzzle. He’s still got a lot left in him.”

I was happy when Randy joined WCW—we’d been friends for most of my career—but almost immediately, Hogan had a pretty big influence on him. I felt that Hogan had convinced Savage that they were bigger than the company. Soon it wasn’t just Hogan messing around with finishes; he and Savage would go out in the afternoon, drink beer, show up at the building, and start changing things—with Eric’s approval. After a while, Eric was drinking with them himself!

The company was anxious for me to do something with Savage, but as you may recall, they had “retired” me. Kevin Sullivan and I came up with an inventive way to get around this dilemma—on March 19, 1995, at the WCW Uncensored Pay-Per-View, I stormed the ring dressed as a woman and jumped Savage in the middle of his match.

Now that I was back, I could also interfere in Hogan’s strap match with Vader later that night. Because Leon wouldn’t lose to Hogan (and vice versa), I did the honors. Hogan dragged me to all four corners of the ring to get the win. It was a mind-boggling finish—how could an intruder come in and lose the match? Well, because the company was really fucked up.

In the storyline, I now “purchased time” on WCW programs and pitched “top ten” reasons for my reinstatement. Both Hogan and Savage also petitioned the “WCW Board of Directors: to end my retirement, and just like that, I was back in the ring, teaming with Vader against Hogan and Randy at the Slamboree Pay-Per-View on May 21, 1995. Of course, I lost again, but after the bell, I beat up Savage’s father retired wrestler Angelo Poffo.

On Father’s Day, Randy was supposed to get his revenge at The Great American Bash; not only that, but now I was expected to make Angelo look good too! Enough was enough. I’d brought Hogan and Savage into WCW, dropped the title, retired, come back in drag, lost Vader’s strap match for him, and had gotten pinned at Slamboree. Call me paranoid, but I was starting to feel a little manipulated.

“This time,” I told Randy, “I’m winning. Take it or leave it.”

Savage agreed, and I won the match after stealing Angelo’s cane and bashing Macho Man with it. The fact that I finally put my foot down was shocking. The fact that I was instantly kicked off the booking committee was not.

I always KNEW Beefcake was a moron.

The stories, by the way, are just as GOOD as the ones in this exerpt.. Well written. Easy to follow and enjoy.

Are there problems? Yes. For one thing, it’s a wrestling book, so no matter how hard they try to make it accessible for everyone, it’s STILL a wrestling book. Non-fans who know the name Ric Flair will have problems following along.

Are there any more? Probably, but the problem is I’m a mark—old school. This book was written FOR me.

And for you too… he even dedicates it to us.

To Be the Man is everything you could ask for… and yet it’s more than we deserved. He paid us back a long time ago, in the ring, delivering the very best he had every night.

How cool is it that he goes and delivers us the best book he has in him too?

Buy this thing, do not wait for the paperback. Blow off the next Smackdown PPV and use the money to buy the hardcover. Tell Ric we care. He went a long time being told that no one does. 

And when Hulk Hogan pitches a quiet fit over why this book out-sold his by a LANDSLIDE (how funny would it be if Flair out-sells Clinton’s book?), maybe Hogan will finally understand that fans aren’t just ATM machines, maybe he’ll understand that not EVERYTHING needs a spin to make him look as good as possible. 

Flair has come off his pedestal… now we can put him on an even higher one.


I am Hyatte and by the bloody Christ, I WILL MAKE YOU READ.


Okay, drooling Mark Mode OFF… Douchebag Mode ON

To promote his book, (and if you don’t think the WWE will do whatever they can to have Flair knock Clinton off the #1 spot, just for bragging rights alone, you’re an imbecile on Beefcake’s level), Ric Flair’ll be doing a few book signings here and there for the month of July. I’m SURE they’ll add more dates in August if the book is a blockbuster.

Anywhoo, here are the dates, OPENLY CUTTED AND PASTED from 

July 7 - 6pm

New York City: Planet Hollywood Times Square, 1540 Broadway

July 8 - 7pm

Ridgewood NJ: Bookends, 232 E Ridgewood Ave

July 13 - 5pm

Nashua NH: Borders, 281 Daniel Webster Hwy

July 14 - 6pm

Westerly RI: Wal-Mart, 258 Post Road

July 15 - 7pm

Charlotte NC: Borders, 3900 Colony Road

July 18 - Noon

Frederick MD: Borders, 5533 Urbana Pike

July 21 - 6pm

Toronto, Ontario: Square One Shopping Center, 100 City Centre Dr

TORONTO?? Who the fuck reads in Canada?

Sheesh… anywhoo, if you are of mind, get in line and have the Nature Boy sign your book Hell, I know where Westerly RI is, I may just go myself! Pay some respects..

HOWEVER… since I KNOW some of you are ball breaking assholes! You might feel it necessary to RUIN the big long Honor Flair party by walking up to him and ask him a few pointed questions! Just to break up the respectful mood and make his face go a little bit red… just a tad.

And keep in mind Flair HATES IT when a commoner like you speaks in wrestling lingo!

If you wish to do that… if you have THE BALLS… might I suggest asking him a few questions like THESE:

-I like potatoes. Do you like potatoes, Mr. Flair? I think wrestlers should throw potatoes at each other! Wouldn’t that be cool?

-Are you an artist? I am. All I do it DRAW, DRAW, DRAW! Can your DRAW, Mr. Flair?

-Wanna go to the gun range and SHOOT? If you can’t SHOOT, I’ll teach you. It’s not hard WORK learning to SHOOT!

-I like my POTATOES a little undercooked, so they are STIFF… do you like STIFF POTATOES, Mr. Flair?

-How much money have you spent on Botox anyway?

-Ain’t you my grandfather?

-Hi Ric, I’m Mister Fabe. My parents named me Kay. Can you sign it, “To Kay Fabe, you SUCK”? Thanks!

-When you 69 Trish, do your noses enhance the pleasure?

-Ever slip diarrhea in Bischoff’s hair dye?

-In your book you claim to have never touched ANY drugs, sticking with alcohol, how can you say that when you were CLEARLY WASTED ON CRACK when you claimed that “Mongo” McMichael had “a million dollar look”?

-How’s Stacey Keibler in the sack? You boned her every time your son’s back was turned, didn’t you?

-Hey asshole, why didn’t you leave fuckin’ WCW when they made it clear you were their bitch?? Don’t you know how much MONEY you would’ve made being the primary McMahon champion against Stone Cold??

-Damn, I thought that huge nose was a work!

-How’s Hunter in the sack?

-Admit it, you’re just jealous of Hogan’s perfect nose, aren’t you?

-Dude, did you have to lose EVERY MATCH to Sting? 

-What color is your hair?

-Do you dye your pubes too?

-How come you didn’t ONCE talk about your habit of swinging your dick around at inappropriate times?

-I’m sorry, Ric… my copy seems to be missing the chapter on “The Plane Ride from Hell”

-Did you pay Madden in Cheetos?

-Does Trish Stratus REALLY know Hyatte, and if she does, is she REALLY considering sleeping with him?

-Ever hear of Flea? He claims to be more well-known than even YOU!

-Thanks for the book, Ric. I’m going to TAKE IT HOME, now. I hope my drive is safe. I hate it when I don’t TAKE IT HOME smoothly.

-How can you openly smother Dave Meltzer’s ass and not give a single mention of the most influential wrestling writer alive: Scott Keith?

That should get you started… feel free to dream up more… they won’t be as good as these, but what can you do, you ain’t me.

See, a little love, then a little evilness… 


I think I’m going to start popping some Indy gossip in here. I mean, I know, most of you don’t know a damn thing about what’s going on in the Independent companies, but a lot of Indy folks do read this for the occasional laugh and the rare semi-intelligent observation. Plus, they are still amazed that a douchebag like me would EVER let himself be suckered into thinking Tammy Sytch knows who I am and would contribute to my column (unlike Vince McMahon, who IS the real dude whether you assholes believe it or NOT!)

Anyway… everyone likes a little Indy news and gossip… so let’s have some FUN!!

-My hat goes off to Indy star BILLY REIL… whose house decided to break kayfabe and burn down right to the ground. Well Billy, I’m glad you and and your family made it out okay… and let’s hope you had everything insured… 

Did you learn anything? Were you taught a lesson? I hope so, because RUMOR HAS IT you pissed off a certain ex-adult actress with ties to a certain type of non-American Mafia (the type who are used to burning down everything in site because the motherland is so fucking COLD… you think they guzzle Vodka for the TASTE?). These ties are fairly tight seeing how they have put some major rubles into her wrestling company (her and her rather MEAN, but skinny partner). Are these modern day COSSACKS capable of flicking a match and tossing it in the casa de Reil’s direction? Da. Did they? Depends on how pissed Miss Gang Bang was at the way you trashed her over and over with some hard-core stuff. One would think she would accept that criticism just comes with the job… but as porn legend Jenna Jameson said about her years ago in a Metal-Sludge interview: I think the cheese has slid off her cracker.

Anyway, that’s just what the Indy kids are whispering behind the fold away high school bleachers… pay no mind and give it no credence… just watch who you trash talk, Billy. The Indys can get hard-core… just ask that dude who lost his thumbs a few years back.

-Anyone remember Jeff Peterson? The kid who sent me some long, harsh e-mails back in the early days of the MidNews? Well, he’s dead… but his spirit lives on in the ECWA (it’s an East Coast thing) SUPER 8 TOURNAMENT (held somewhere in Jersey) which is NOT to be confused with the JEFF PETERSON MEMORIAL CUP… it’s TOTALLY different (held somewhere in Florida)

ANYways… not to make any BLATANT allegations… but Jim Kettner, Peterson’s Uncle and the hombre who RUNS ECWA (it’s an East Coast thing) and hosts the SUPER 8 tournament, is the subject of a few behind the back snickers and giggles himself. 

What’s the joke? Well, it goes something like this:

“What’s the difference between Jim Kettner and Rob Feinstein?”

Feinstein got caught.


Horrible, absolutely horrible… BULLSHIT! BULLSHIT, I SAY!

You damn Indy fiends… always spreading nasty gossip! 

Anyway, congrats to the “Fallen Angel” Christopher Daniels for having a super eight inch long penis and winning the tournament.

Ahh relax… it’s all for fun around here. 

Support your local Indy fed! They are our only hope!


I, for one, am so sick and tired of HHH bashing that I have decided on this, a brand new, ongoing gimmick.

Every week, I shall list one good thing Triple H has done that makes him a much better person than YOU, John Q. Jizzlicker, who has never done anything for anyone… and probably a fan of Ring of Honor too, you PERVERT!!

Triple H Is Better Than You Because… 

He will PERSONALLY make sure that Flair retires (when Flair is ready and not a day less) with as much grace and dignity as any wrestler has ever had. Plus his introduction in Flair’s book was barely two pages long and completely heartfelt. Without a doubt, HHH is the biggest Flair fan alive.


And you know what… I’m going to end it here.

Oh hell… one more thing…


In honor of the Fourth… and because I’m a fuckin’ AMERICAN…

America Is Better Than You Because…

OH, WE JUST ARE! You know it and I know it. What drives you foreigners nuts is that we are so damn COCKY about it. Hey, we are only 228 years old, we were started by a bunch of scrubs that no one else wanted, and we run the damn PLANET… most of you purebred slobs have been around for a billion years and haven’t done SHIT! USA today vs Rome at it’s peak… we would’ve SMASHED their asses! Fuck you! We OWN your candy asses!!


NOW, I’m done.

See, the trick is to keep these things SHORTER… two SHORTER columns a week rather than 1 long one. Man, I have SO MUCH to get to too… TONS of shit.

So Thursday, I have a review of Spider-Man 2.. I have Scott Keith news, we have Widro fuming about ANOTHER 411 writer! We have Flea commenting on something. We have advice, we have either Vince McMahon himself of someone filling in for him. We have NEWS… WRESTLING news… and some point, probably next Monday, I’m paying tribute to Marlon Brando in a way that I truly doubt anyone else ANYWHERE has… sort of.

God Bless America, you little jerks!

This is Hyatte