The Midnight News

Concerning last week's double column...

You know, sometimes I clench up and make two shits out of one. But the bottom line is it's still shit, and so were your two-part columns.

Aaron Olk

Alas... and this one won't be much better.

Dude, you're giving your hard earned money to jeff fucking jarrett? I expect far better from you, really. Just watch the matches on YouTube, if you must. Don't you go mark on me now Hi-8.

Anthony Paluki

Actually, I'm looking at it like I'm giving my hard earned money to Kevin Nash (someone's got to)... he makes ALL the money, while someone else wrestles... son.


hyatte - you are trash, your coumn is garbage, and i f'n love it. keep up the good work.

Andy Helgenson

Thank ya'.

Concerning last week's hidden message; inside note

I've thought long and hard about it, and I guess you're right. Ok, I'll sleep with you. I've never done any gay stuff before, but I'll try. Just don't hurt me.

Desi

Fine, just shut up and roll over, bitch...

and no, I did NOT make up that name... coincidence.

Hi Suckers, I'm Chris and this is the Midnight News. I call you suckers because... well...

Last week I did TWO columns in one week... TWO... This is part one.. And just two days later, I handed in this, part 2.

TWO columns... from Mr Vacation! Mr Lots of Time Off.

Too much... so, I'm just phoning it in this week... lazy offering... maybe my worst one in ages... it'll take you a minute to fly through.

For real... just being honest. You don't see Bruce Mitchell admitting this... or James Caldwell... or even that Dan Wahlers character.

Anyway... they can't all be winners... and this one sure ain't.

Okay, I've properly prepared you up... let's get to it...


A SECRET MESSAGE; A HIDDEN NOTE

No one's gonna get this except for ONE person... and it ain't the one from last week. A different asshole.

When you're through being all huffy, start dialing.

BOY, this is gay... I'm putting a stop to it right now.

Speaking on secret messages...


SIGNS, SIGNS, EVERYWHERE IS SIGNS, MESSIN' UP THE SCENERY, BREAKING MY MIND (volume I)

I was re-watching the Edge/Foley - Dreamer/Funk ONS match the other night because I'm a loser with no life and Edge said something that I missed the first time around. During his promo...

Edge: (to the fans) ...you're all gonna go home and text your imaginary girlfriends and tell them how great the show was...

It was just a quick line, went right by me the first time...

But the second time around... it cracked me up. Loved it.... LOVED IT... for real.

Why? One person knows why (and here's hoping she's reading this... and smiling). Hate being cryptic and all, but it is how it is.

Now I'm all done with the secret messages... on with the show


THE YEARLY TNA BUTT SLAM

I saw it and I LIKED it... good show... no, GREAT show...

Get the replay... it's the first TNA show I can STRONGLY recommend.

I got nothing in terms of a stylized way of recapping it... and you can find recaps ALL OVER the place... so let's do it the laziest way possible..

I stole the following recap from... someone else (heh)... and am re-posting it here without the benefit of... hmm... ah, every single OTHER letter in the alphabet... that'll be nice and confusing... you'll have no problem scrolling right past this...

eay a Wes wecome us o A's 4 aiesay! e ames Gag ges osse ou o e ack y eam 3!


igo a aw: eam 3 s. e ames Gag

eam 3 uig e e-soe we ookig o e ames Gag, ou em a osse em ow e am o sa e . Ki a ay go a i wi cais, ay ges ake ou. eo i wi e Keo Sick a sas o cea some ouse. uk a ie y G, u e ges osse. eese 3 o Ki o 2. Sick oso a a e es ae weaig e o scoo e ook, ig ue sis a ow ies. ey aw io e cow ow a ey go io e A aea a ey ea ow eam 3. ey e ea ow Ki a G! O' COSS E OE! Ki ges ack-oe oo a gua aiig. G ums e ai a ee we go wi moe cow awig. ey am Ki a G io cais a e cow os, u e ames Gag aes ack a uses asca is, a's uee. os o oys osse io e ig ig ow a ey a go ack a ay cokes ay wi a a. U o…ay as a ceese gae, u Ki wi a ow ow so a. Ki cages, ay ais im a CEESE GAE O KI! Si a a o u. Sam y ay o G. eo u o…WAU ea u u G a a asca i a eo is u. ay as a go cu a ee's o o ay. I ki me. Ki wi a sam o ay oo a asca a coes o 2. Ki a eo ai o, u ay is im wi a keo sick a e ey eie e EAYIE EICE! GE E AES! G osse o e oo 3 O KI oug e ae. a's i.

Wies: eam 3 @ 10:22 ia i **½

ay o e mic es us a's ow i sou e oe.


Wes a eay eak ow e ca o us.

i e ack wi . ey ak aou e ew ace o A maageme, a i is o o ie o . igs ike is is wy e weses, a igs ike is make goo me gea. e as aways ae e os a eaie a eceee we e a o. e's ike oe Moaa i e 4 quae. e's oa, eggie ackso a Moaa oe a io oe. A ee go a cace, a 4-yeas ae ey ae ee. oig, i e KOM mac, e mac e mae amous, oy i A ca you see i a Sig, you ae yig o kee me om wiig? You ae a ego a aways wi. You a Cage wi cas a wi ai. Kiigs a Ayss, o' y o seak i e ackoo. I wi egai my WA ie. ay is ee a says e ew ace is wo oug a i oes' ook goo. says e wi cea u ay's mess.


We ge a ieo yig io s. ooe a 'Amoe.

'Amoe o e mic a says e kows io eas im, so ey ca ca i a aica mac, u we a kow a e oy ig aicae i e mac is io's IQ. ooe is suose o wac o as 'Amoe isays is cac as ca skis.

io s. oy ooe a Coac 'Amoe

'Amoe us away a io cages i a eas ow ooe a osses im o e oo. 'Amoe es ooe e was' eay, wou e ie? 'Amoe wams u, aks si a ags ou. ooe is' ay aou a. Cuig sos o io y ooe a a sie eaock. O e oes a a soue ock o ooe. ooe misses a oa oe a ge ai ou wi a coesie. ooe was a ag u 'Amoe us oes im a e ak. 'Amoe sas ooe a e e cas i a ag. io osses im i a saks im. 'Amoe o e oo, io cases im u ooe e ays im ou. 'Amoe ags i a coes o 2. ag ack o ooe a e cokes ou io. igs y ooe, Iis wi a io is a, aowig ooe o coe o 2. ag o 'Amoe a e ges igs o io. aw eake o io, u e sakes i o a ies o ieie 'Amoe, ooe makes e sae. Kee o y 'Amoe ges 2. ag o ooe, sue o io a a coe o 2. igs y ooe, io egs im o moe. io e sas o ae ack u ooe akes im ow a coes o 3. ag o 'Amoe, a e ges a 2 oe is o o io. eg o ges 2. ag ack o ooe wo eies e oos o io. eck ice y ooe, u io wi a ey o ey! io maages a eck eake a ges a cose 2. ooe ags 'Amoe i a ses io u, ges im eec a akes is si o. e ees a goes u o. MISSES E MOOSAU! io o is ee, ais ooe a e a soue ock o ooe. Coe soue ock. 'Amoe ais io wi e ockey sick. e ies e 'Amoeaye…SIEUSE y io. e osses ooe…GOE GOE GOE KIS 'Amoe a a is a.

Wie: io @ 11:02 ia i **


is wi oe. ey ak aou is seak a e mac wi Seie. oe says Seie as EE ace ayoe ike im. Seie as a e caee a scaes eoe, u o im. Seie as ee ee ie i A, u oe wi ake a om im.

-iisio akigs Mac: Sesi s. Saky s. ay ea s. Soay u s. eey Wiiams s. Ae Seey

eey a Saky o sa. eesas a a sa y eey. okick y Saky a e a am ag. Wisock a a ie o e a y Saky. ack o a e a wi o e coe. uces a eey ges a aomic o. ee o woe y eey. SAK IE sos e u som! aca y Saky o eey o e oo. ack i a a ag o ay. ey oue-eam eey, eg aia y ay o 2. Sie ack eake y ay ges 2. eesas a a ig kee y eey. aseme okick a a ag o Sesi. Si kicks o ay a a coe o 2. Cos y Sesi, u ay ies ack. Moe cos y ay, okick y ay ges 1. O e oes a a aack y ay o 2. Kicks y Sesi a a coe o 2. ag o Ae, oue ack eows o ay. eck ice y Ae io a eckie io a coo suoa ike moe ow. ay escaes u Ae wi a eckie ug owe o 2. aweake y ay, i oss, cawee a e e okick o Ae. ag o u a e ges a AA o Ae. Am ag a e woks e am. o oeo a e a saig moosau o 2. Iis wi a u o e ao. e a Ae y e am…sike u Ae coces im. e ags im acoss…OE U! Ae cokes im a e ges a sikick o 2. Sam a a iosau y Ae o 2. ie ace o Saky a e a ag. Saky a eeyoe is i…IE AYACE SUE~! Cos y Saky, u u igs ack. Kee y Saky a a sigso i a coe o 2. Coe eow y u, oo y Saky…S couee. eck eake y Saky. U o ow…MISSES e eow o. Saig SS y u a Saky is ou @ 10:36.

Ae i a e cokes u. u wi a escae a o e oes…eigui y Ae. Ae os is ea, eck eake a u coes o 2. ag y ay a a ug owe o u. Missie okick y ay. Ae is u ay, aseme okick a a ai use oo ay. Ae u o…seo ack sas y Ae u ay a is kees u, a e ay ges a i ou o owee. Ae is ou @ 12:45.

u osses ay u Sesi ais im wi a kick. eey wi a sig so AA o Sesi o e oo. ay wi a suicie ie oo eey. u u o…MOOSAU OO A 3! ay ais eey a ey go ack io e ig. SI kick y ay. U o…MISSES e swa ie ea u. CAAIA ESOYE! ay is ou @ 14:30.

Coe coesie y u. e a eey ae, u eey wi a eg o o e ao o u. eey ges a coe o 2. Sesi os u, u eey i Sesi y accie a u os im u o 2. o so y eey, Sesi ags i a kis eey wi a coesie. Sesi u o…eey ies o so im a ey ae u o. eey as Sesi… Sesi escaes a u ais eey. OUE SOM O E O Y Sesi a eey is goe @ 17:03.

Sesi u o, u oows…O OE AA! aseme okick ges 2. O e oes a a oao y u ges 2! Suse i y, Sesi os im o…oue som! 1…2…O! u igs, eck eake y u. u goes u o…MISSES e 450 as Sesi go kees u. UIG OKICK O OOM y Sesi! u se u o…ee o woe a u sis u…OUE SOM a u is ea!

Wie: a #1 coee o oe, Sesi @ 19:35 ia i ***½


is wi as a Seey. as was o kow wa aee? Seey says ee wee 10-guys wi gus a kies. e is ocuse o as's ceeaio. as as a message o Sai's a. e wo' ay e oco is. We e cas o ceck o is so, as says o ask e i sie maes.

A ieo o as s. Sai us.

Kei as s. Cis Sai

Cuig sos y as o egi. igs o Sai, o e oes a a eow y Sai. igs o as, a Sai ocks as, u as wi a ack eow os Sai. igs y as agai, Sai ies a o u u as gas e oes. okick o as a e os o e oo. as cas ou Seey a ey ak. Seey ies o ge i e ig, a wie Sai a is ack ue as ays is ou wi a coesie. Coke y as a Seey akes o e uucke a acoss e ig. as ies o am Sai, amos os im u Sai coues a as ais i. okick y Sai ges 2. Cae sock y…oe. Seey is Sai a as ees im agai wi a coesie. ig sies am y as ges 2. ack eake y as a e es Sai oe is kee. as coes o 2. I e coe a as wi kees. Eows ow a o e oes…ig oo y as. ackkie y… Sai igs…as as a Sai coes o 2! Sai as as u o e cae sock, u Seey is i a sos i. Sai wi a aseme okick akes ou as's kees. IE oo Seey o e oo! ack i a a coesie y Sai. Sigso coesie y Sai! 1…2…O! Sai u o…o oe eg o o as ges 2! Sai u o agai…Seey coces im! e as a as is u…sas ow! as icks u Sai…ack kie o Sai. 1…2…3.

Wie: Kei as @ 8:24 ia i *½

as a Seey ug a ceeae.

is wi AMW a Gai. says ey ae ee ee sice ay oe a a is is e as cace o A a aies. AMW says ey ae o cace. ey may ae ee gea i e -iisio, u AMW as eeae em eey ime. ey ae oug esige o e ies, a wi coiue o. Gai says se kows se is a isacio, a o mae wa AMW wi wi as aways. Som says ey ae o oug eoug, soy aou you am uck.


We ge a ieo yig e ag ie mac.

I ooke ike Som i someig ue e ig.

WA ag ie Mac: A Syes a Cisoe aies s. Ameica's Mos Wae w/Gai

A a Som o egi. ock u a ey soe o. ock u agai a Som wi a eaock. A escaes, o e oes a a soue ock y Som. Som ies o oss A, u A sigs i a e ges e swak okick. ag o aies, i wi a smas o Som's am. ag ack o A, e woks e am a e aies ack i. Som ams aies o e AMW coe a ey oue-eam im a ais wi a am a. aies os, escaes a ges oe o is ow. Moe coues a aies emais i coo. Eye oke y ais, wisock a aies wi a escae a i a ses o e ai o ais. O e oes a a okick y aies. i o Som a ey a i e 69 osiio. e oke-ack cas sa. Som accieay ums ais. ACA y A! A osses Som ack i a a sam y aies. Sigso eow o y aies ges 2. ag o A a ey ge a coo oue eam ace am ea io e kees o aies. Sam y A…ig kee o y A o 2. A o e oes, is ais, o e oes u ais us i ow a e cases o e oo. A 4 me aw o e oo ow. aies a ais ae o e am as Gai ies o ai aies, aowig ais o ee im. e os aies oa is oo e aiig. A ies o o o e aiig, u Som soes is egs ou om ue im a e is gu is oo e aiig. A oe ack i a ais coes o 2. yig aia y ais ges 2. Som ags i a ges a ai o coes o 2. SI kicks y Som ges 2. ag o ais, saig sue o A a a coke y ais. ag o Som, ey oue eam im wi oos a Som ges a aia wiy i, A ies o a ag u ey so im. Som ies e 8-seco ie…EE kick y A! A ies o e ag a ges i! aies sas o cea ouse a ges a eigui o ais. Sam o Som. Si egge moosau o 2 as ais ie o sae u i Som. UE UA IA y aies. A osses Gai o e o. Some ig ic is e ig a coke sams Gai! Se osses Gai o e oo a ags e o e ack. AMW ack a ey aack A a aies. Som a aies u o, ais oe u A es a aies ges a o u o 2. acko y ais a e ais A. aies os u ais u Som osses a cai i is ace. Coe 1…2…O! aies is aie! A ags i a ges e suema oeam! Asai o Som! um ae gu use o ais! A u o…SIA A MISSES! ais as e acus a Som isacs e e…e ees A wi em a coes 1…2…O! aies us ou e e! e es e e wa aee a ey kock im ack ou. aies sos a ea seece y… o ais…seo y A! 1…2…O! aies i a Ages wigs y…Som ees im. Som as is a o a sue kick misses…AGES WIGS! 1…2…O! ais eow os e e a e osses im. A misses a coe sas a Som as e oe…IA AIS as A moe! UAAGE y aies! OG SAS y A! ES MOOSAU EE Y AIES! 1…2…3!

Wies: A EW AG EAM CAMIOS A Syes a Cisoe aies @ 18:00 ia i ****¼

ey ceeae i e cow.


I e ack, is wi Sig. Sig says i's goo o e i e ouse, a goo o e wesig o e WA ie. e as is a, a ae 20-yeas e ca mui-ask. e' ake is cace a e ie is e as oo, a e was o make sue ges o owe a o wo ie. I's Sowime!

We ge some gea A momes i a ice ieo ackage. ey sow ayoe wi a ame a as ee oug, , Saage, oga, acksaw, ay, ie, a, Cis ock, IC a moe. eay coo ackage.

eay i e ig ow a e says ey wi make aoe uge imac ow. eay us oe e ew ace o A maageme, wo is oe oe a…ames E. Coee! Coee as a cae wi im as e ecey a some kee sugey. e osses e cae away ow a waks o e ig. e oes' ee o sikig cae. iay Coee as come ack o ! e aways wae o say a. e us saw a mac, a A was ag eam wesig! e is ee o a easo, is some ackgou. A is e ew ace o wesig, a e is sick o e o oe. Oe e as ew weeks e as ee keeig a eye o igs. e igs u eoe sayig A wou' make i, u ey ae mae 4-yeas. u A a gowig ais. ey ae owe y a successu comay, u ey kow ey eee wesig eoe o u A. u ose eoe oug ei ow agea. a u A, u e is ee o cea igs u. I may o e oiicay coec, u a e same ime I ge esus. I ae ee i eey comay a kow e icks. I am ee o oe see e oeaio o e as. ee ae guys I wa o see se u. e iisio, A a aies, oe, io a moe. ee ae guys a ee o ge o ei ass a se u. is o is o see eey sea u a eeyoe ay. is is a message, A esoe. We ae goas, gea maces, se 's a o aw aigs. I you ca oe o ose, you ae o my goo sie. I o, seek emoyme esewee. I i comes ow o me o you, i's me. I wa wa's es o usiess a A wi mea success. A I kow ee is someoe a wi y me, I uge you o y. ease y. Make sue a you ae ca ae ome, ecause you' i e ackoo. ay y e ues a you' go o e o. I as ee sai eoe, u you ae see oig ye!


is wi Seie. Seie says oe is a a-ee a cas im soy oe. Seie ea Cea, aisa, , Sig, Goeg a moe. A e aies wa you o succee a A maageme was you o wi sice I o' ay y e ues. You'e is u-seae. I wi sow you wy I am wo I am a I wi e you seak a ki you.

e u e awesome ieo om Imac o ye e mac.


Sco Seie s. Samoa oe

ock u a a wis ock a ake ow y Seie. ey sae ow a cice. ock u, oue eg i a Seie ies o ge osiio a oe ges e oes. ock u a o e coe ey go. Kees y Seie a e cos. i oss o oe a e e ai uses oe. Seie oses a oe sis o im! ey sa awig! Kicks y oe a Seie is ow. Cos a moe kicks. ig kee o y oe. Seie u a a oeea ey o ey o oe! oos y Seie a e e cokes oe oe e mie oe. Cos y Seie, Iis wi a a oo y oe. Moe kicks o Seie…ace was! oe cages a Seie os o e oo. EOW SUICIA Y OE a Seie cases io e aiig! Cos y oe o e oo. Seie ams oe io e ses oug a os im ack i. oos y Seie, o e oes a a coesie a eow o, e usus y Seie. Kick o e ace y Seie. oe u a wi cos o Seie, u Seie ges a ey o ey o oe a e ees. Seie icks im u a ies a oweom…a ges i! Seie ies o coe u oe ges a iage coke! e cecks a amos cous a i o oe. Seie os a ges a oo o e oe. as y oe a Seie is ocke a ow. Iis wi…oe cages u Seie ges e SOE! Seie osses oe a ey go o e oo. oe amme o o e aiig a ey aw o e ack a oe is samme io a wa. Seie as a cai u e e ies o ake i a oe ack wi cos. e uces e cai io Seie ace. oe cages a ais e ig os. Seie KIS OE WI A CAI SO! e e is giig em e cou o 10 e aouces say o e mac is oe. Seie ais oe agai wi a cai so. Seie is i, oe is siig…a makes i i. Seie cus away a oe. oe ack wi sas! Aomic o y oe a e uig Yakua! Seo y oe! Iis wi, eesa a SOE o Seie! oe coues Seie…UE UA IA o Seie! 1…2…O! Coesie y oe, Seie is si. ocks oe a oe ges e coke!!!! I's ocke i…e e cecks…Seie igs, o is ee a eaks i. oe ocks i saig, OW OW y Seie! A ESO SUE Y SEIE A OE AS O IS EA! Seie os im a ocks i e ecie! e e cecks e am, oe o…2 os…oe coues a sas u wi Seie! o so…QUICK OWESAM a a is a!

Wie: Samoa oe @ 13:13 ia i ***¾


A icoy oa omo us.

is wi Cisia Cage. Cage says ay Sammiesay. is ay Cage is ee, a Cage says i is geig wei. e cas a ic, a says eeyoe es im o cam as eaie. e us oe e 4-caeges, a says Sig sowe is ue coos eaie. e says e WA ie is a ug, a says e KOM wi e a uge caege, u is is coie. ca ak a e was, u sice Cage as ee ee, A as ecome is. You sow im Kiigs, Ayss, a Sig. u e wi sow us e ma a wi kee e WA ie i is mac o e is ime, ecause a's ow I o!

A KOM ieo ackage us.

oas is ou o e sue secia ig aoucig, a ay is ee o e e WA oicia o e oig, a Ea ee is e eeee.

WA ie: Kig o e Mouai Mac: Cisia Cage © s. e ae s. Sig s. Ayss w/ames Mice s. o Kiigs

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Wie: e ae @ 22:32 ia i ***

There you go... high details in there.

I TOLD YOU I WAS HALF-ASSING IT TODAY!!!

Moving on...

JESUS'S REVENGE

For having the nerve of killing his only son, God showed his wraith to local Indy promoter/ all-around buffoon, Frank Goodman by sending a lightening bolt of good sense to the corporate offices of The United Skates of America and had them cancel Goodman's UXF show, that was to be held last night at their building in Oyster Bay.

The excuse was Goodman never bothered to get a permit of assembly, which, in layman's terms, means... YOU DIDN'T BRIBE THE RIGHT ITALIAN, YOU CHEAP SLUMLORD!!!

Now... really, before you all get all pissy with me (got enough of that going in the private life, thank you very much), let me please make this clear...

I do NOT wish that professional wrestlers who are trying to earn a living on the Independent scene one OUNCE of bad luck. It is my fondest hope that you find work each night, every night, and are able to make a nice living doing so.

HOWEVER, everything I hear says Goodman's UXF is usually a few big time players taking a over-eager payday and a whole lot of Goodman ass kissers and barely trained backyarders who sold enough tickets to stuff up the undercard. If I'm wrong, please tell me.

I wouldn't even bother with this, as Goodman slipped his fingers around his wife's checkbook and bought himself a new venue... details can be found on this site. However, Fatneck decided to cut a promo on me... TWICE... the first time because he's a tool and the second time to get his heat back because I more or less spanked him. I don't mind promos on me... especially retarded ones... but there is fun to be had here... and I'm all about goofing on those who BEG to be goofed on.

So... I extended an olive branch to Fatneck Goodman last week... in hopes of getting exclusive comments on how he fucked up by not greasing the right wheels... and he told me to go fuck myself... so I pulled away the olive branch and extended a hunk of Fleishig on a stick... he gave me exclusive commentary..

I GOTTA TELL YA IMMA GONNA TAKE THE WHOLE ENTIRE STAFF OF UNITED SKATES OF COMMIES AND WHEN I SEE DEM ON DA STREET IM GONNA CHASE THEM INTA AN ALLEY AND SHOVE DERE FERSHUGGUNNA PERMITS UP DERE LITTLE HIDEY HOLE TUSHYS! IT'S A MISHIGAS CONSPIRACY AGAINST ME AND MY BALL SUCKIN' FRIENDS. I WUZ AT THE GYM DOING CURLS AND LETTING THE LADY HOLES GET A LOOK AT MY BICEPS WHEN MY JEW SENSE ALERTED ME DAT SOMEONE WANTED MONEY OR I COULDN'T RUN MY SHOW AND HANG OUT WITH BIG POPPA PUMP AND SHOW VINNIE MACIRISH WHY HE SHOULD HIRE ME. I CALLED MY WIFE TO START WRITIN' CHECKS BUT SHE WAS OUT SCRUBBING MY KIDS DOWN AFTER SNEAKING THEM INTA DA PISS-FILLED POOL AT THE HOLIDAY INN. SO DEN I CALLED UNITED SCUMBAGS OF CHRISTIANITY AND SAID, "HAVEN'T YOU OPPRESED MY TRIBE ENOUGH?" DEY HUNG UP ON ME! ME!! WHEN I SEE DOSE STINK STARS ONNA STREET WITH DERE GIRLFRIENDS IM GONNA FLEX MY ARMS AND SUCK IN MY ABS AND MAKE THEM CALL THEIR MOMMAS IN FEAR! I HAVE ALL DESE TICKETS I HAD PRINTED ON SALE AND NUTTIN' TO USE DEM ON! BLARRRGH BACK TO DA GYM TO SHOW OFF MY NEW DO-RAG. I HAVE SIXTEEN HOUSES IN FLORIDA BUT I CAN'T BOOK A SKATING RINK. WHAT'S DA DEAL WITH BAGELS?

And so goes life in the Indys...

And you wonder why Vince has no problem turning a profit... look at this world he lives in...

Good Lord.


THE WORLD ACCORDING TO FLEA

Whenever we talk, I can always count on Flea to give his opinions on just about anything.

So, I decided to grab a pen and paper and start jotting down his thoughts. Everyone likes Flea.

The following is 100% true... more or less:

WHERE DOES FLEA STAND ON...

...Dave Meltzer's Wrestling Observer?

He's got it down. He knows what he's doing. He knows what he knows and knows what to say and what not to say. It’s maybe the most poorly written thing I’ve ever paid for. Meltzer can’t write to save his life. 3rd grade level. Oh hell, you get your money's worth, there are a lot of words in them, but half of them are fucking typos. Jam packed. He ain't lying when he crows about doing a jumbo edition. The key is to read the whole thing front to back, some of the shit he writes coming out of Japan and Mexico is fucking hilarious. The best thing about Dave is when you get the newsletter and the first thing you see is "First Class". Ahhh, that's what I like. That's why he's who he is and Keller is a dumb cocksucker.

Flea


A FUN FACT THAT WILL MAKE YOU LOOK SMARTER

*There is a type of earthworm in Australia that can grow up to 10 feet long*

And just like that, you're smarter than you were three seconds ago

Hyatte LIVES to inform.


KEVIN NASH IS BETTER THAN YOU

Since day one, Kevin Nash has been shat on by Internet marks everywhere. Well.... enough is ENOUGH!

This isn't going to change a damn thing, but I'm doing it anyway. Someone has to point out the obvious, SOMEONE has to defend the big guy, SOMEONE has to show the WRESTLING WORLD that Kevin Nash... maybe the greediest, laziest, sneakiest wrestler who ever lived, deserves a HEARTY round of applause... not for thumbing his nose at those who actually WORKED in the ring, but for doing it and getting rich at the same time. He IS the American dream... all 7 feet of him.

But is he better than YOU, John Q. Workrate? Bet'cha ASS he is... Why?

Kevin Nash Is Better Than You Because...

For the arguably single worst AND most despised wrestler in the business, he's managed to last a long, long, long time

THIS HAS BEEN "KEVIN NASH IS BETTER THAN YOU" STARRING KEVIN NASH, WRITTEN, DIRECTED, AND PRODUCED BY CHRIS HYATTE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.


THE DOI BOOK-OF-THE-WHEN-I-GET-TO-IT-CLUB

Flea: Only three writers in the world have ever meant anything, No-D8
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

********************

Over two years ago, when I started this book reading thing, my second selection was Robert B. Parker's Potshot, which featured Spenser, Parker's long-running popular private detective. This time out, I'd like to revisit the character, only from an earlier point in time.

By the time Potshot was published, Parker had already set Spenser's life in stone. He is a wisecracking, intelligent, macho, but well-read/cultured Private Eye operating in and around Boston. He had a long-standing girlfriend, Susan Silverman, and his best friend is fellow tough guy, all-around thug by the name of Hawk. Within that nucleas Parker has several supporting characters revolve, coming in and out of his books as the plot calls.

It's a writer's dream, to create a successful franchise loved by fans and critics alike, and Parker hit the mother of all franchises. For over 40 books, Spenser has been a tried and true character who does what's right, what he feels is correct, and who guides his life, and his profession with a strong code of ethics.

But Parker doesn't flinch when Spenser has to get dirty. He knows that in order to write about a world of thugs and tough guys and prostitutes and criminals out doing criminal things, he can't pussy Spenser up just to enhance his nobility. Parker writes tough-guy hard novels, and hasn't softened Spenser up as time goes on.
The brilliance to his writing is that he's managed to retain Spenser's nobility even as he's roughing someone up, or firing his gun.

And time is a factor with this series. For almost 30 years, Parker has delicately moved around the fact that his first Spenser book put him in his mid to late 30's. He knows Spenser is old. We know Spenser is old. But Parker has yet to admit that Spenser is now nearing his 70th year and might be too old to be beating people up like he has. To Parker, his franchise is getting as old as he is... but only in an abstract sense.

And that is Spenser, we don't know his first name, and only in one book (Sudden Michief) does he even admit to the type of haircut Spenser favors (a crewcut). We know he's a big guy, a former smoker, and an ex-cop who was fired for insubordination. Basically, that's it. The rest he leaves up to our imagination (and anyone older than 30 will always picture him as Robert Urich).

The thing with Parker is, at some point he stopped playing with Spenser and started seeing him as a bank check. Long ago he stopped twisting and toying with Spenser's life and focused on the plot at hand (which Parker is very, VERY good at). He stuck with the reliability factor. His audience knows that once, maybe twice a year a new Spenser mystery will come out which will feature the case landing in his lap, initial investigations, a mid-book confrontation of some kind, following the clues, a larger third-act fight/shootout/action sequence, and the solved mystery. Occasionally, Parker will introduce a new supporting player into Spenser's life, one who will reflect the times as Parker sees it (12 years ago, Parker introduced his first all-out gay character and didn't make him a cartoon stereotype), but on the whole, he has his world for Spenser to live in and hasn't deviated from it one bit.

But early on, Parker had some fun with the character...

Early Autumn is one of Parker's first (7th, actually) Spenser books. In it, Spenser has no mystery to crack, per se... he is merely a bodyguard/protector of a young man in the middle of a nasty divorce with his ignoratn parents. The boy, Paul Giacomin, who would eventually appear in several more Spenser books over the years, is introduced here as a directionless, futureless, teenager who cares for little about what's going on around him. His mother is an idiot and his father is a control freak with ties to the criminal element. Spenser is hired to keep him away from his Father. In an early look at his sense of morals, Spenser decides to take matters concerning the boy's future into his own hands.

In this excerpt, the boy's father has already made one attempt to get his son, and failed. Now he has his henchmen try a new approach. Spenser needs help on this one, so he calls someone who hasn't yet become a full-time part of Spenser's life. It's the third book that Parker brings Hawk in, and he makes himself right at home:

The next time they tried, it was a lot meaner. Patty Giacomin was food shopping when I went to pick up Paul at school. When I came back into the house with Paul, the phone was ringing. Paul answered and then handed it to me.

"It's for you," he said.

I took the phone and Paul lingered in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room to see who it was. It was a voice I didn't know.

It said, "Spenser?"

I said, "Yeah?"

It said, "There's someone here wants to talk with you."

I said, "Okay." Reparte is my game.

There was a shuffling at the other end, then Patty Giacomin's voice came on. It sounded shaky.

"Spenser. That man Buddy and some other men have me. They said if you don't give Paul to them they won't let me go."

I said, "Okay, put Buddy on. We'll work something out."

She said, "Spenser..." and then Buddy's voice came on.

"You there?"

I said, "Yeah."

Buddy said, "Here's the plan. You bring the kid to the Boston end of the Mass. Ave. Bridge. We'll bring Momma to the ambridge end. When we see you start the kid we'll start Momma the other way. Get the idea?"

"Yeah. Shall we do it now?"

"One hour. We'll be there in one hour."

"Okay."

"Spenser?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't fuck this up. I got people with me that ain't Harold, you understand?"

"Yeah."

Buddy hung up.

I broke the connection and dialed information.

"Harbour Health Club in Boston," I said to the operator. I looked at my watch. Two twenty-five. The operator gave me the number. I punched it out on the push-button phone. It rang. A woman answered.

I said, "Henry Cimoli, please."

The woman said, "One minute." She sounded like she was chewing gum.

Henry said, "Hello."

I said, "Spenser. I need Hawk. You know where he is?"

Henry said, "I'm looking at him." Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good.

I said, "Put him on."

In a moment Hawk said, "Umm," into the phone.

I said, "You know Buddy Hartman?"

Hawk said, "Umm-hmm."

I said, "He and several others have a woman. They want to exchange her for a boy that I have. At three twenty-five they are going to be at the Cambridge end of the Mass. Ave. Bridge. I'm going to be at the Boston end. We're going to start them together. When they meet, halfway across, I want you to discourage Buddy and his pals while I drive out onto the bridge and pick up both of them, the woman and the kid."

Hawk said, "It's five minutes' work, but I gotta drive there and go home again. Cost you a deuce."

"Yeah, I haven't got the time to haggle fee with you. I'm on my way."

"I be there," Hawk said. We hung up.

Paul was staring at me.

I said, "Come on, we gotta go get your mother."

"You going to give me to them?"

"No."

"What if they try to shoot me?"

"They won't. Come on. We'll talk in the car."

In the car I said, "You heard what I said on the phone to Hawk?"

Paul said, "Who's Hawk?"

"Friend of mine, doesn't matter. You heard what I said?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I can't believe we're talking a lot of danger here. But here's what I want you to do. When I tell you to go, you start walking along the Mass Ave. Bridge towards Cambridge."

"Where's the Mass. Ave. Bridge?"

"Across the Charles, by MIT. You'll see. When your mother reaches you, say to her, 'Lie flat on the ground, Spenser's coming,' and then you drop flat down on the pavement. If she doesn't get down, tell her to. I'll drive out onto the bridge and I'll get out of the car. Tell her to get in the driver's side. You get in on the other side."

"What about that Buddy?"

"Hawk will look after him till I get there."

"But what if he doesn't?"

I smiled. "You say that because you don't know Hawk. Hawk will take care of the Cambridge end." I wrote Susan's address on a piece of paper. "Have your mother drive you there."

The kid was nervous. He yawned repeatedly. I could hear him swallow. His face looked tight and without color. "What if she's not there?" he said.

"No reason she shouldn't be," I said.

"What if this doesn't work?"

"I'll make it work," I said. "I'm good at this. Trust me."

"What would they do if they got me?"

"Take you to your father. You wouldn't be any worse off than now. Relax. You got nothing to lose here. Your father wouldn't hurt you."

"He might," Paul said. "He doesn't like me. He just wants to get even with my mother."

I said, "Look, kid, there's just so much value to thinking about things you can't control. It's time to stop now. You've had a tough life and it doesn't seem to be looking up. It's time to start growing up. It's time to stop talking and start being ready. You know?"

"Ready for what?"

"For whatever comes along. Your way out of a lousy family life is to grow up early and you may as well start now."

"what am I supposed to do?"

"What I tell you. And do it with as little whining as you can. That would be a start."

"But I'm scared," Paul said. There was outrage in his voice.

"That's a normal condition," I said. "But it doesn't change anything."

He was silent. We passed Mount Auburn Hospital and crossed the Chartes onto Soldier's Field Road. To the right Harvard Stadium looked like it was supposed to, round and looming with arches and ivy on the walls. The Harvard athletic plant sprawled for acres around it. Soldier's Field Road became Storrow Drive and I went off Storrow by BU, and made the complicated loop turn till I was heading inboujnd on Commonwealth. At Mass. Ave. there was an underpass. I stayed to the right of it and turned onto Mass. Ave. and drove past the up ramp from Storrow and parked on the bridge with my emergency lights blinking. It was three twenty. Beside me Paul's stomach rolled. He belched softly.

"You see them?" he said.

"No."

A car behind me blew its horn at me, and the driver glared as he went by. Two kids in a Buick pulled around the car. The one in the driver's seat gave me the finger. The passenger called me an asshole through his rolled down window. I kept my eyes fixed on the Cambridge side of the bridge.

At three twenty-five I said to Paul, "Okay. It's time for you to walk. Tell me what you're going to do."

"I'm going to walk to the middle and when my mother gets to me I'm going to tell her to lie down, that you're coming, and then I will lie down too."

"And if she doesn't hit the sidewalk?" I said.

"I'll tell her again."

"And when I show up what happens?"

"I get in one side. She gets in the other. We drive to that address."

"Good. Okay, walk across the street. They'll start her on their side."

He sat for a moment. Belched again. Yawned. Then he opened the door of the MG and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He crossed and began to walk slowly toward the Cambridge side. He went about ten feet and looked back at me. I grinned at him and made a V with my fingers. He kept going. At the far end of the bridge I saw his mother get out of a black Oldsmobile and start toward us.

The Mass. Ave. Bridge is open. It rests on arches that rest on pilings. There's no superstructure. On a summer evening it is particularly pleasant for strolling across. It is said that some MIT students once measured it by repeatedly placing an undergraduate named Smoot on the gorund and marking off his length. Every six feet or so there is still the indication of one smoot, two smoots, painted on the pavement. I could never remember how many smoots long the bridge was.

He was almost to his mother. Then they met. Across the bridge the Oldsmobile began to move, slowly. The boy dropped to the pavement. His mother hesitated and then crouched down beside him, tucking her skirt under her. Flat, I muttered, flat, goddammit.

I slammed the MG into gear and headed for Paul and his mother. Across the way the Olds began to pick up speed. A Ford station wagon swung around the corner from Memorial Drive, looped out into the wrong lane with a lot of squealing rubber and blaring horns, and rammed the Olds from the side, bouncing it against the high curb and pinning it. Before the cars had stopped, Hawk rolled out of the driver's side with a handgun the size of a hockey stick and took aim over the hood of the wagon. I cut across the traffic and rolled the MG up beside the sidewalk between the Olds and the two Giacomins. From down the bridge I heard gunfire. I jerked up the emergency, slapped the car into neutral, and scrambled out of the MG.

"Patty, get in, take Paul and drive to Smithfield, Paul's got the address. Explain who you are and wait for me there. Move."

There was another gunshot from five smoots away. I had my gun out and was running towards the Olds when I heard the MG take off with its tires squealing. I was almost at the Olds when I saw Hawk go over the hood of the wagon, reach into the driver's side of the Olds and pull somebody out through the window with his left hand. With the barrel of his gun he chopped the pistol out of the other man's hand, shifted his weight slightly, put his right hand, gun and all, into the man's crotch and pitched him over the railing and into the Charles River.

A big guy with a tweed cap got out of the back seat of the Olds as I came around behind it. I turned sideways on my left foot and kicked him in the small of the back with my right. He sprawled forward and a gun that looked like a Beretta clattered on the pavement ahead of him as he sprawled. It skittered between the risers of the railing and into the river. I looked into the car and saw Buddy crouched down on the passenger side of the front floorboards, huddled under the dash. Hawk looked in at the other window, the enormous handgun leveled. We saw Buddy at the same time.

Hawk said, "Shit," stringing out the voewl the way he did. From the Boston side of the bridge I heard a siren. So did Hawk. he put the bazooka away inside his coat.

"Let's split," I said.

He nodded. We ran down Mass. Ave, and into one of the MIT buildings.

We moved through a crowded corridor lined with ship models in glass cases.

"Try and look like an upwardly mobile nineteen year-old scientist," I said.

"I am, bawse. I got a doctor of scuffling degree."

Hawk was wearing skintight unfaded jeans tucked into his black boots. he had on a black silk shirt unbuttoned nearly to his waist, and the handgun was hidden under a white leather vest with a high collar that Hawk wore turned up. His head was shaven and gleamed like black porceline. He was my height, maybe a hair taller, and there was no flesh on his body, only muscle over bone, in hard planes. The black eyes over the high cheekbones were humorous and without mercy.

We went out a side door at the end of the corridor. Behind us there were still sirens. We strolled across the MIT campus away from Mass. Ave.

"Sorry about your car," I said.

"Ain't my car, man," Hawk said.

"You boosted it?" I said.

"'Course. Ain't gonna fuck up my own wheels, man."

"'Course not," I said. "I wonder if they've fished that guy out of the Charles yet."

Hawk grinned. "Damn," he said. "Wish the fuzz had been a slittle slower. I was gonna throw 'em all in."

Chapter 13

We wandered in a mazy motion through the MIT complex down to Kendall Square and caught the subway to Park Street. We walked up across the Common to Beacon, where Hawk's car was parked in front of the State House by a sign that said RESERVED FOR MEMBERS OF THE GENERAL COURT. It was a silver-gray Jaquar XJ 12.

Hawk said, "You owe me two bills, babe."

I said, "Gimme a ride to Susan's house."

"Smithfield?"

"Yeah."

"That's the woods, man. That's your fucking forest primeval out there."

"Hawk, it's thirteen miles north. We could run it in two hours."

"Dinner," Hawk said. "Dinner and some champagne, I buy the champagne. They sell champagne out in the woods, babe?"

"We can stop at the trading post," I said. "Cost plenty wampum, though."

We got in and Hawk put the Jaq in gear and we purred north over the Mystic Bridge. Hawk pulled into a Martignetti's off Route 1 and bought three bottles of Taittinger Blanc de Blancs. At forty-five bucks a bottle it was cutting a lot of profit off the two hundred I was paying him. He also brought out two six-packs of Beck's beer.

"No point wasting the champagne on you," he said. "You born beer, you gonna die beer. There's a bottle opener in the glove compartment."

Hawk peeled the foil off the neck of one bottle of Taittinger and twisted the cork out with a pop. I opened a bottle of beer. Hawk drank from the neck of his forty-five dollar champagne bottle as he tooled the Jaquar up Route 1. I drank some Beck's.

"Difference between you and me, babe," Hawk said, "right here." He drank some more champagne.

"As long as there is one," I said. "Any difference will do."

Hawk laughed quietly and turned his Olatunji tape up louder. It was quarter to six when we pulled into Susan's driveway. My MG was there beside the car Susan had bought to replace the MG. It was a big red Ford Bronco with a white roof and four-wheel drive and heavy-duty this and that, and the big tires with raised white letters.

Hawk looked at it and said, "What the fuck is that?"

I said, "That's Suze's new vehicle. For Christmas I'm getting her some foxtails and a pair of big rubber dice."

"That's a big ten-four momma," hawk said.

We went in. Susan was the only person I've ever seen that hawk seemed to have any feeling about. he grinned when he saw her. She said, "Hawk," and came over and kissed him. He gave her the two unopened bottles of champagne.

"Brought us a present," he said. "Spenser promised supper."

She looked at me. "What am I, Howard Johnson's," she said.

"You're a real looker when you're angry," I said.

"She took the champagne and went toward the kitchen, "Goddam host of the goddam highway," she said.

"You forgot to take my beer," I said.

She kept going. Hawk and I went into the living room. Paul was watching a bowling show on television. Patty was sipping what looked like bourbon on the rocks.

"This is Hawk," I said. "Patty Giacomin and her son, Paul."

Paul looked at Hawk and then looked back at the bowling show. Patty smiled and started to get up and changed her mind and stayed seated.

"Are you the other one?" she said.

Hawk said, "Yes." He drank some champagne from the bottle.

Susan came back into the room with another bottle of champagne in a bucket and four fluted champagne glasses on a tole serving tray.

"Perhaps you'd care to try a glass," she said to Hawk.

"'Spect ah might, Missy Susan," Hawk said.

Susan said to Patty, "May Paul have a glass?"

Patty said, "Oh sure."

Susan said, "Would you care for a glass, Paul?"

Paul said, "Okay."

Patty Giacomin said to Hawk, "I'd like to thank you for what you did today."

Hawk said, "You're welcome."

"I really mean it," Patty said. "It was so brave. I was so terrified. You were wonderful to help."

"Spenser gave me two hundred dollars," Hawk said. "I figure it'll show up in his expense voucher."

"Are you a detective too?" Patty said.

Hawk smiled. "No," he said. "No I am not." His face was bright with mirth.


And of course, another move to grab the son is made. Spenser gets tired of both parents and ends up taking the boy into hiding himself. Male bonding ensues.

No, not like that.

For almost 50 books, Robert B. Parker has brought us into the world of Spenser. It's a success, a very good, very lucrative success for him. He has created his money maker, his life-long endless royalty-generating cottage industry.

And he's smart about it. After the first, twenty or so books, Parker stopped evolving the characters. Spenser will always be Spenser and he'll always have Susan and Hawk and his entire supporting cast of friends and enemies. Each book he produces might present a different aspect to Spenser's life... whether it be a good ol' fashioned mystery or a violent confrontation. Sometimes Hawk has a large role and toher times he's nowhere to be found, but Parker hasn't thrown any curveballs into the series in years, and that's how his long-time readers like it. The biggest being the one-two punch of Valediction and A Catskill Eagle. In the first book, Susan leaves Spenser cold. In the second book, he goes to get her back. It's the only time Parker turned Spenser's world on its ear, and they are two of his best offerings.

Early Autumn is the 7th book of the Spenser series. Hawk is a recent edition and just starting to get into Spenser's life. If you read the books in order, you'll see how Parker softly colors in Hawk's character, with the always stable Spenser as our eyes (and after the first book, Parker had Spenser completely formed.) You'll always get cracker-jack prose, well-paced plots, and brilliant narratives. Out of around 45 books, there are only a few that I would call clunkers. Start at the beginning, The Godwulf Manuscript, and keep going. You'll learn to love Spenser, almost as much as Rober B. Parker does.

Or, if you're the type to NOT read in order, Early Autumn isn't a bad place to start either.

My name is Chris Hyatte and I will not rest until ever Indy Wrestler LEARNS HOW TO READ!!!

And by God I should just end right here... but I'm not feeling it just yet... let's crap out one last thing...


SIGNS, SIGNS, EVERYWHERE IS SIGNS, MESSIN' UP THE SCENERY, BREAKING MY MIND (volume II)

Let's go out in lazy style...

If you have a set of balls... or, as us white people call them, cajones, then you will attept to sneak the following signs onto your favorite wrestling shows.

The trick is to get it on and get it some PRIMO air-time before security chases you down and shreds it... perhaps sneaking a solid kick in your balls just for the hell of it as well...

TO RAW AND/OR SMACKDOWN

-DRUG TEST CENA!

-CENA LOVES THE COCK

-TRISH LOVES HYATTE

-TRIPLE H HAS TRIPLE CHINS

-JBL HAS TITS

-WHO BOOKED THIS CRAP?

-LITA HAS A PENIS

-I FUCKED EDGE'S WIFE

-IS REY ILLEGAL?

-KANE FEARS WOMEN

-BENOIT IS OVERRATED

-BRING BACK THE PIRATE

-TRISH CAN'T SING

-MICKIE HAS A FAT ASS

-MELINA = BONER TIME

-PUSH CONWAY

-WHERE'S HOGAN WHEN YOU NEED HIM

-FIRE HARDY

-JEFF WAS THE COOL ONE

-KILLING TIME UNTIL TNA STARTS

-JOE LAUGHS AT UMANGA

-WHERE'S THE MASTERPIECE?

-STEPHANIE'S BABY IS BLACK.

-WHY ISN'T SHELDON IN JAIL?

-MY MOTHER FUCKED FLAIR IN 1982

-TAKER'S TOO OLD FOR EYELINER

-I WAS ORLANDO'S ROAD "FRIEND"

-WHERE'S EDDIE?

-CM PUNK SUCKS.


TO ECW

-MAYBE KURT WILL DROP DEAD TONIGHT.

-ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

-WHAT THE HELL IS THIS SHIT?

-EXTREMELY LAME

-BEAM ME OUT OF HERE, SCOTTY

-HEYMAN KILLED CHRIST

-YOU GUYS GOT OLD

-END THIS

-I CAME HERE TO SEE KHALI!

-HIRE SHANE DOUGLAS

-THERE'S A KENDO STICK IN MY PANTS

-WHY IS STEVIE RICHARDS STILL EMPLOYED?

-CREDIBLE IS LATE FOR HIS JOB AT TARGET

-WHERE'S TOD GORDON?

I'll stop it there. Next week, TNA and ROH and... I dunno. I'm beat.

It's amazing how things change over the course of two short weeks... not to my liking either... but what can you do? Nothing. Fuck it.

None of the above concerns 99.9% of you. I'm just venting.

Next week, I'll show up and do something. Why not.

24

This is Hyatte

Glorydog@cox.net