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From: Montreal, Quebec, CANADA
Since last post: 506 days
Last activity: 497 days
|AIM: || ||#1 Posted on 4.1.03 0346.23 |
Reposted on: 4.1.10 0348.34
| Llakor Broadcast System|
Friday, January 3rd, 2003
LBS#10: Extreme Dream Part One
After I posted Scarred 4 Life, Big Steve Royds wrote on the IWS chat board to say, “Great Review LLAKOR....I find you to be very good at this stuff and very enthus...
but why you come out with them like 6 months later?” It turns out Steve has never been very good at math and the Scarred 4 Life review came out only FOUR months after the show. This review on the other hand is for the first part of IWS Extreme Dream tournament that ran last February, so it has taken me almost a full year to get around to it. I dread Steve’s reaction honestly.
I could spend a few thousands words talking about the Christmas that I just spent with my nieces Meaghan and Devin and my nephew Ryan who is now THREE! THREE!! THREE!!! but the first Extreme Dream was a monster so I’ll skip the preamble this time around.
The IWS “home” is the Le Skratch bar in Chomedey Laval. If you should find yourself in this bar, you might find it it a little tricky to find the space where IWS sets up their shows. As you enter the bar, through doors on the far right front of Le Skratch, a space roughly the size of two strip mall Subways side by side is filled with pool tables arranged in a complicated staggered diagonal pattern, both to give the illusion of there being more pool tables in the space than there really are, and to give the players a little more elbow room to make their shots without bumping into players at neighbouring tables. To the left along the front of the bar is an elevated platform filled with tables for spectators and serious drinkers. On the far left wall are a series of private rooms for, presumably, some form of private gladiatorial pool competitions. If you walk towards the far left of the bar, past those private rooms, keeping the rooms to your right and the elevated platform to your left, you will find yourself taking a curved hallway that emerges onto a sheltered room about half as big as the rest of Le Skratch, although it feels much smaller when there is a ring set up in the space. This is the home and ‘arena’ of the IWS.
The room is roughly rectangular with a long elevated bar on the right hand wall starting about halfway down the wall. The ring is just to the left of this bar. Surrounding the ring at the four corners are four elevated speaker platforms that must climb at least ten feet to the ceiling like some complicated Mechano construction. On the left wall is the men’s washroom decorated by airbrushed paintings of female weight-lifters and which has in place of urinals a long metal trench pissoir just below waist level. Just past this washroom is a set of stairs that climbs up to the DJ booth and control area overlooking the ring, where the Bride of Lemmy victimizes his audience and where the wrestlers gather before entering the ring. There is another exit to this elevated platform that I have never actually seen that must descend to the wrestlers’ entrance area at the far back centre of the room.
If you attend an IWS show, like say Season’s Beatings on January 11th, at the end of the hallway just before entering the room proper, you will come to the table on the right wall where you pay your twelve dollars Canadian and get stamped with a Wild Rose Productions stamp. After getting your hand stamped, you will pass Colonel Meez’s tape table at your left as you enter the room. Just past Meez’s table to the left is a platform for a tripod camera run by either Camera Girl or Techno-Geek depending on who is at the show. I should mention however that Meez’s table didn’t make its first appearance until after Tournament of the Icons, so it was not present at Extreme Dream. The ticket price was also merely ten dollars Canadian at Extreme Dream rather than twelve.
Attendance at IWS shows is a frequent source of controversy. Extreme Dream was the one show that I set out to count the chairs in the space to figure out the maximum capacity of the room. IWS usually comes very close to filling all the seats, and even when they don’t, the IWS fans are enthusiastic enough to make the noise of a crowd twice their size. The chair set-up does change from show to show as well, so my count at Extreme Dream should not be taken to be the final word on IWS capacity.
As you enter the IWS ‘arena’, the area directly in front of you and directly in front of the ring is the location for the Two Mountains Mob. At Extreme Dream, this area had starting from the ring, four rows of 10 chairs, followed by a row of fifteen stools, followed by a camera placement, followed by two rows of twelve stools. The area to the right of the ring is the favourite location for the Red Army, whose numbers and enthusiasm vary much more than the Two Mountains Mob. This area has a row of ten chairs directly in front of the right ring followed by a row of twelve stools. There is also usually a table for the Time-Keeper, a nice elderly gentlemen who I believe is Sexxxy Eddy’s dad, at the far right. Because of the bar, there is an elevated platform with a railing to the right of the ring past the first two rows of chairs and stools. There are two rows of twenty-five chairs along the railing, as well as a row of stools in front of the bar. To the left of the ring, underneath the DJ booth, are a row of ten chairs, followed by a row of twenty stools. The back of the ring is the French Smarks area where columnists for Info-Lutte and other Quebec wrestling web-sites set up directly in front of the wrestlers’ entrance area. The chairs in this area are set up to allow a wide lane for the wrestlers to run to the ring. At Extreme Dream there were three rows of five chairs on each side of the lane, but this is one of the places that IWS has added extra chairs at various shows. Since the screen for IWS promos comes down directly in front of these seats, the one disadvantage of the Smarks location is that you see all of the IWS promos backwards as though you were seeing them reflected in a mirror.
To do the math, at Extreme Dream, I counted room for 236 sitting spectators, although adding it up like that it always FEELS like there are more people at an IWS event. I would be surprised if the attendance has ever been higher than 300 at Le Skratch though. I would also not be tremendously surprised to have my seat count disputed vigourously on the IWS message board. As with all things, I freely acknowledge that I could be full of shit on the count.
The ring itself is large, but I have no idea if it is WCW or WWF size. At Extreme Dream the top and bottom ropes were yellow, while the middle rope was red. The corner turn buckles were blue. I honestly don’t know if this colour scheme was special for this event or if it is the standard colours, because this is the only IWS event where I paid attention to that detail. The ring apron for all IWS events is black with red lettering advertising both IWS and Wild Rose productions.
And with all that background out of the way, now would be the time in the recap where I would welcome my recap partner, the Great and Mighty Oz, but he seems to be late...
( There's a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the road, that's where I'll always be
Every stop I make, I make a new friend
Can't stay for long, just turn around, and I'm gone again
Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep movin' on )
Why is someone singing the theme to the Littlest Hobo?
( Down this road, it never seems to end
Where new adventure, lives just around the bend
So if you want to join me for awhile
Just grab your hat, come travel light
That's hobo style
Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down
Until tomorrow, the whole world is my home
So if you want join me for awhile
Just grab your hat come travel light
That's hobo style )
I really have to talk to the boys in the control booth about this. As much as I like the song, this is no time to play the extended version. ACCCCCKKK!!! DOG on the set! DOG on the set! Holy London Calling! Who let the German shepherd on the set? Nice Doggy!
( Christ! Freak much? )
HOLY CRAP!! Talking DOG! TALKING DOG!! Shades of Spider Robinson! Your name’s not Ralph is it?
( Will you get down off the chair you big Weenie? I need help getting my head off. )
EEEPP! A dog that can remove its own head! Welcome to the Twilight Zone.
( Got it! The zipper was stuck! That’s better! Now I can breathe! )
OZ? What are you doing wearing what I can only describe as an extraordinarily realistic German shepherd outfit?
( I bought it on E-Bay. It’s a left-over prop from some horror movie about mutated dogs with the creepy android from Aliens 2 in it. )
Clearly, I was asking the wrong question. WHY are you wearing an animatronic dog suit?
( Well, we are doing Payback’s a Bitch. And see it’s not just a dog suit, it’s a female dog suit. Look! Titties! And not just two, I’ve got eight! Elsa will be so jealous.)
Do you even read the pre-show memos? We are doing the first part of Extreme Dream, the IWS tag-team title tournament.
( WHAT!? But my barb-wire pyjamas are at the cleaners! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get blood out of barb-wire? )
No, and discussing the removal of bloodstains from barb-wire pyjamas is only slightly less surreal than talking about your eight breasts. How hard is it to get the stains out, Martha Stewart?
( I have no idea, but my dry cleaner charges YOU a bundle! )
SIGH. Moving on...
The Extreme Dream tag team tournament was announced by the IWS to crown the first champions of their newly created tag team titles. The IWS publicly invited teams from all over to participate in the tournament in a very shrewd move to boost the IWS’ status in Montreal. By throwing open the tournament to any team that wanted to enter, the IWS was declaring that they were not afraid of teams from other feds coming to the IWS and out-performing their wrestlers. Any team coming in would have to accept IWS booking naturally, but it would be quite possible for a great team from a great fed to come in, blow the IWS fans away with how good they were and in the process steal IWS fans away to watch them in their home fed. That the IWS was not afraid of this is greatly to their credit.
( Taking the other side of the issue, it placed the bookers in other feds in a tricky position. Do you forbid your good tag teams from taking part in the tournament, giving them a chance to get new fans? Or do you let them go work for another fed? On one hand a team could look really bad in a match bringing disgrace to their fed. On the other hand, the team could look so good and the reaction from the notoriously hot IWS crowd so positive, that the team could decide to move to the IWS permanently. )
It should be said that many indy wrestlers in Quebec work for several feds simultaneously. Most of the French feds run shows every weekend in fact, so the only difficulty with the IWS poaching one of their better wrestlers is that he would not be available for one show a month. That said, there is a great deal of jealousy, bitterness and paranoia by the French bookers on this subject especially where it concerns the IWS.
I have criticized the IWS in the past for individual booking decisions in individual matches. In other words, I have focused on the ‘micro’ booking decisions. But as for the ‘macro’ booking decisions, I have never had any real issues. The IWS does a very good job of building feuds, and delaying the payoff until the crowd is red hot for the denouement. For this tournament, the IWS did a very good job of simultaneously building up Evilyscious as the sympathetic baby faces second only in popularity to the team of the Hardcore NINJAZ~. You knew that they weren’t going to win, but the process of failure looked to make them even more popular than ever before. On the heel side, the teams of TNT and Maxx Fury were built as solid opponents for the Hardcore NINJAZ~, while the super heel team of Sexxxy Eddy and Arsenal looked destined to confront the super face team of the Green Phantom and PCP, Crazy Fucking Manny aka the team of Green Drugs.
( Not to mention getting us all psyched for the inevitable win by the Hardcore NINJAZ~, while making us doubt that outcome just enough to keep us worried. But not to worry, the Hardcore NINJAZ~ are so going to win this tournament. )
The other advantage about this tournament from my point of view was that the IWS announce all the matches well in advance. Normally, I dread tag-team matches because they dramatically increase the number of notes that I have to make. For singles matches, I just divide each page in two, one side for each wrestler. Every time a wrestler makes a move that I consider meaningful, I write it down on his side of the column, leaving the other side of the column blank. In other words, I just have to indicate who did what move when.
This also lets me see the swing of momentum in the match as normally there are large blank spots under one wrestler’s name with the occasional hope spot thrown in. Taking notes this way makes it a lot easier for me to judge the flow of a match afterwards. It also gives me a better feel for how much a wrestler controls a match than you get from watching the match live. For example, take Beef Wellington, sadly not a part of Extreme Dream, but I’ll mention his name just to force him to read this. Beef plays the part of the cowardly wrestler and makes his opponents look like a million bucks, but if you are tracking his matches move by move, you begin to see that Beef controls the flow of the match a lot more than you would think by watching the match live. In other words, he makes it look like his opponent could take control of the match at any time, thus making his hope spots believeable, while never actually relinquishing control of the match.
( Fine Anal Retentive Lad! Can we talk about the actual event now please? )
In a minute.
The problem, for me, with adding extra wrestlers to the match, either in a three-way, or in a tag match, or worse still in a multiple-team tag match is that I not only have to indicate who did what, but also to whom they did it. It doubles my note-taking and halves my accuracy. In addition, I can’t use my shortcut of dividing up the page with rows when there are too many wrestlers taking part. For Extreme Dream, what I did, since I had oodles of notice about all the matches, is that I printed forms for each match. The forms were printed horizontally, double-sided with four columns on each side, one column for each wrestler. This would allow me to use my shortcut to indicate who did what and would give me the option to indicate the victim either by notes or by using arrows.
( At what point are you going to explain why you abandoned this method? )
Well, normally the IWS doesn’t announce enough of their card in advance for me to prepare this way.
( Plus, you did have a problem with the order of the matches...)
All right fine, after Extreme Dream I couldn’t remember in what order the matches were in. Because the matches were all recorded separately on separate pieces of paper, I am not absolutely certain that I have the order of the matches correct even now. Are you HAPPY now?
( YEP! DROWN Mother-Fucker! )
Fuck You Justin Thunder Liger!
At Extreme Dream, I ended up sitting in a stool in the second row on the left side of the ring, underneath the IWS control booth. I chose this spot, because I hadn’t been entirely satisfied with my seat in Smarks’ corner at Season’s Beatings. At Born to Bleed, I had ended up with good seats, by fluke, which happened to be near a group led by a guy who looked like a skinny German heel. So at Extreme Dream, I chose a seat near his location figuring he knew the good spots to pick to watch the action.
At 9:30, the screen descended to play a tape from a hand-held camera at a wrestling event held in what appeared to be the old ECW arena. The shaky hand-held camera picture kept panning left away from the ring for some reason. In the ring, CZW champion Justice Pain was having some difficulties with some bald mother-fucker that I didn’t recognize. He was sort of a Balls Mahoney type, less hair than teeth, and not many teeth at that.
( Clearly an individual who uses his shocking lack of hygiene as a way to get an unfair advantage over his opponent. Since it is the CZW we are talking about, and their fans are a tribe of mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging, non-bathing, Neanderthals who make the Two Mountains Mob look downright civilized, the bald mo-fo is a huge fan favourite. )
*SIGH* Let me just mark down Philadelphia as a no-go area, shall I?
At the critical moment of the match, just as Justice Pain looks in danger of being pinned, the hand-held camera swings left one more time...
( Missing the Sexxx Exxxpress, Sexxxy Eddy charging in from the right with a chair! What a moment! The CZW champion and the IWS champion in the same ring in the historic ECW arena! )
DUDE?! That’s not Sexxxy Eddy. That’s Steve Royds. Steve viciously attacks Justice Pain’s challenger with the chair levelling him with a WICKED blow to the head. Justice Pain covers for the pin, and immediately after the ref awards him the match Steve and Justice Pain team up to punk out the ref. They then throw the challenger through a table. The tape lasts a good ten minutes.
( Are you sure that’s Steve Royds? It looked like Sexxxy Eddy to me. )
I’m POSITIVE... mostly. After the screen goes back up, we return to waiting for the action. A guy in a white and red leather jacket accompanied by an older babe with Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley size implants dressed in black leather pants and a tight shirt survey the stage and talk at about 9:55, before heading to the back. A salt and pepper duo of guys accompanied by a matching salt and pepper pair of girls stroll on by to the back, passing a white girl in fluorescent painted on pants and a bikini top who had emerged from the back to look at the ring.
Although I had no idea in what order the matches were going to be held, the announced card for the first part of Extreme Dream was scheduled to be:
Viking & Damian (MWF) vs. The Nation of Insanity (MWF);
TNT & Maxx Fury (IWS) vs. the Highlanders (Independent);
PCP, Crazy Fucking Manny & the Green Phantom (IWS) vs. Jeckel & John Fury (XWE); Hardcore NINJAZ~ (IWS) vs. Latin Connection (FLQ);
Evilyscious (IWS) vs. The Joker’s Wild (TWF);
Sexxxy Eddy & Arsenal (IWS) vs. Steve Royds & Scotty Revenge (IWS);
Iceberg & FOD (FLQ) vs. a mystery team;
and finally a team called Made of Money from NCW bought themselves a bye.
At 10:05 pm, the screen descends again. We saw a bewildering series of promos. Bewildering, because it was difficult to tell which team was which. In rough order we saw a pair of French heels waving an anti IWS sign who stapled the sign to their own skins...
( GROSS! )
It was a little excessive, yes. This was followed by a surprisingly intense promo by Evilyscious in which they promised “No Fucking Dancing Around!” Next up was a Spanish (?) Heel team, followed by a silent Hardcore NINJAZ~ promo involving a lot of pointing to pro-IWS signs and Japanese flags. After that a pair of French heels waved around what looked like a Green Phantom head and jabbered an impossible to understand promo. Equally unintelligible was the promo by a pair of Scottish heels. Just when I was beginning to despair at the lack of clear English, or hell even clear French, Nixon Stratus came on the screen to announce, “All the other teams are appendixes waiting to be removed by the greatest technical wrestlers in Quebec, Heavy Explosives, the team of Heavy Maxx Fury and TNT!” Last up was the team of PCP, Crazy Fucking Manny and the Green Phantom. The Green Phantom declared “It’s time for the Green and the drugs. The team of Green Drugs is here to administer some Hardcore Justice! All the other teams in this tournament better be ready... to... FEEL.. THE... GREEN!” Manny followed by declaring, “So many federations, so many teams, I can’t even remember them all. All I know is that this is the Extreme Dream tag team tournament to crown new IWS tag team champions. Now PCP will show why he’s the biggest idiot in the business, why he’s the sickest Mother-Fucker in wrestling!” The tape finished at 10:12.
“Mother-Fuckers! Welcome to Extreme Dream 2002! Sixteen Teams! Every federation in Montreal! Your host straight from Hollywood, California: IRON MIKE PATTERSON!” Announcing his own entrance, as always, is Iron Mike Patterson. He is wearing a black cowboy hat, black sweatpants with a white stripe and a black Canadian Olympic Jacket with a red Canadian Maple Leaf and and Olympic flame on it. “I’m overshadowing the wrestlers. I love all of you. I have Olympic fever. I thought Chomedey stunk. I thought that it smelled weird. For all the ladies, when you see Iron Mike Patterson, I know it’s going to be Extreme Cream. My Chevrolet commercial was on during the Super Bowl.”
( WHOA! Hold the phone there Sparky! The ONLY, and I mean ONLY reason that your commercial was on during the Super Bowl is because in Canada, Global takes out the good Yankee commercials and replaces them with sucky cheap-ass Canuck commercials. So having your commercial on during the Super Bowl between the Thousand Flushes commercial and the Huggies dancing crappy baby diaper commercial is nothing to boast about. )
Is it just me or is Iron Mike Patterson trying to be, well a baby face? “We have a new commissioner, Nixon Stratus.” Cue Nixon with TNT and Maxx Fury. TNT is wearing a red bandana, black shirt, black arm bands and black pants with red stripes. Maxx is wearing red elbow pads, a black singlet and black pants with red stripes and gold stars. Nixon, looking as usual as though he just got off his day job as a Fonzie impersonator, grabs the mike from Iron Mike Patterson, “My job is to make sure that the team of Heavy Explosives, TNT and Heavy Maxx Fury, the greatest team of technical wrestlers in Quebec, win the tag team titles that they so richly deserve. My job is to make sure that you Patterson, shut your fucking mouth!”
Iron Mike leans back into the mike, “They like it when I talk!”
“Stop Talking! Just announce the matches! Now, I am going to give you a chance to redeem yourself Patterson. As an expert on the IWS, who do you think is going to win the Extreme Dream tournament?”
“Gosh there are so many teams it’s hard to pick. I like Evilyscious’ chances. The Hardcore NINJAZ~ are always good. But I think that if I had to pick, I would have to pick the team of Green Dr...”
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. I am asking you as an IWS employee whose cheques I sign, who do you think is going to win?”
“OH! ... TNT and the short guy.”
The “short guy”, Heavy Maxx Fury, FREAKS and Iron Mike Patterson bails. Nixon Stratus introduces a salt and pepper couple: two huge guys with nonexistent pupils who look all the world like the coked-up bodyguards for downtown Montreal ten dollar lap dancers. He announces that these are the guys who will prevent Manny and the Green Phantom from winning the tag team title belts. Nixon then hands the mike to Iron Mike Patterson telling him, “Just announce the match, nothing else!”
( FINALLY! 4151 words before the first lock-up. Is that some kind of record? )
You do realize that your Littlest Hobo entrance was a big part of that?
( I would love to discuss that with you in depth, but look Iron Mike is announcing the opponents for TNT and Maxx Fury. )
Saved by the mike!
“At 595 pounds, from Scotland, Pat Hamilton and Angus McTaggart, they are the Highlanders!”
Odd. I have Pat’s partner marked down as Mark Lalonde. I wonder who this Angus fellow is. More importantly, as usual, I have the problem of not being able to tell which is which. The Highlanders enter dancing to bagpipe music, waving a Scottish flag. TNT and Maxx Fury stay in the ring and dance mockingly. One of the Highlanders is a short balding guy with black arm bands, a black shirt and a blue tartan kilt. The other is a really big guy with blue paint on half of his face wearing leather arm bands, a white shirt and a red kilt.
( Allow me just to check in from 2003 to remind you that the short balding guy is Pat Hamilton and the big guy is Marc Lalonde aka Angus MacTaggart. )
Oh Right! Thanks! I was caught up in the moment.
The other issue is that while I am hardly an expert on tartans, it seems to me that the tartans that those two guys are wearing are from clans that hate each other. Pat Hamilton has the mike, “It’s time to unite the clans!”
( That would explain the tartan issue, I guess. )
“Tonight we get to fight TNT and Mini-Me! There is only two things that I know how to do, Drink and kick ass, and I’m about out of Scotch. I’m going to whip your ass, cause I’m pissed drunk.”
The bell rings at 10:25. Pat and Angus climb up to the apron. Maxx wants to start and he picks the big guy to start with. Angus agrees and they lock-up. Maxx tries a short arm clothesline on Angus and bounces off, so Angus shows him how its done, turning Maxx inside-out and backwards. Leaving Maxx broken in the middle of the ring, Angus returns to his corner, where he and Angus... TAKE OFF THEIR KILTS!!!
( WHOA! )
( All right! I’ve got this. )
NO! I NEED to talk about this!
( Flip you for it? )
( Here’s my Harvey Dent pre-scars Double Eagle. You flip. I’ll call. )
OK. Call it!
( Heads! )
DAMN! Heads it is. You take it.
( We lived in Nova Scotia for close to fifteen years, and I have heard thousands of variations on the old joke about what a Scotsmen wears under his kilt, and I don’t remember in any of those jokes wrestling trunks being mentioned. Could somebody at home reading this do me a favour and warm up their DVD of Braveheart so that they could send me a screen capture of the moment in the climatic battle between the Scottish and the English, when Mel Gibson and the rest of the Scots STOPPED in the middle of their charge against the English line to TAKE OFF THEIR KILTS? I declare that the Highlanders, a pale sheep-fucking imitation of the Bushwhackers, are committing that most grievous of wrestling sins: They are failing to LIVE THE GIMMICK! )
( This is as bad as if Chuck and Billy came out and said, “By the way, you know we are not really Gay, right?” Ummmm... that was a much better example in February 2002, than it is now. )
Rather than watch you flounder, let’s go back to the match shall we?
Nixon is on the apron, jawing at the Highlanders, so they yank him in the hard way and put the boots to him, giving Maxx a chance to tag in his partner, TNT. He and Pat Hamilton face off in the middle of the ring. TNT sneaks in a pretty snap suplex. Pat escapes, they run the ropes ending in a corner Sunset Flip attempt that TNT escapes from. TNT tags in Maxx, who calls out Angus, tagged in in turn by his partner, Pat. Maxx ,abandoning the clothesline, goes low for the shin kick. Angus staggers but does not go down. Maxx runs the rope to build up some momentum, but gets cut off by a Scottish Back Body Drop.
( Houston! We have lift-off! )
But what goes up must come down HARD! TNT rushes in to protest the attempt at creating the first Scottish Smurf Satellite, and Angus responds to his arguments with two MASSIVE Clotheslines. TNT is woozy, but Maxx has recovered, and they do the old bench trick to get the big man down. Angus charges back up but gets double-kicked in the back of the leg. He falls to his knees and gets double-kicked to the back. Angus struggles back up to his feet AGAIN, but Maxx and TNT double-team drop toe hold him back down, then they follow up with double-team flips on his prone figure. TNT and Maxx try to roll the massive Angus over for the pin, but he grabs the two, lurches to his feet and falls over on top of them. Maxx rolls free and climbs to the top. Angus holds on to TNT and gets to his feet squeezing TNT like he is trying to get the last toothpaste from the bottom of a tube of Crest. Maxx saves his partner with a SWEET drop-kick from the top, and then starts working on Angus’ leg, kicking his leg in the leg. Angus can’t get back to his feet, so Maxx goes up top and a swan-dive head butt from the top gets ONE and TWO and thrown off with authority. Angus manages to get gingerly to his feet, grabs Maxx and MASSIVELY Slams him down. He picks up TNT and MASSIVELY slams him down. TNT and Maxx get thrown into a corner, and Angus Banzai Splashes both men, collapsing afterwards, but not before tagging in his partner.
( Hamilton is a big bad bald house o’ fire! )
Hamilton cleans house and then starts beating on Maxx while his partner starts beating on TNT and Nixon. Nixon manages to sneak away to ambush Hamilton. Angus sees this and charges over to rescue his partner. Maxx takes advantage of Angus’ distraction to try and springboard off TNT’s back. He fails, goes back to the well and this time manages to hit it since Angus has obligingly held up for him.
( GOSH! Maxx Fury getting sloppy and blowing a move, whoda thunk it? )
Everyone spills outside with Angus taking Maxx and Hamilton taking TNT. Pat Hamilton grabs a chair and whacks TNT ONCE! TWICE! THREE TIMES A LADY! FOUR TIMES FOR SCOTLAND! FIVE SHOTS IS JUST A LITTLE EXCESSIVE DON’T YOU THINK! HE WINDS UP FOR SIX!
( Who does Hamilton think he is The Rock? )
Meanwhile Angus is trying to relaunch the Scottish Smurf Satellite, and he wanders into the way of Hamilton who just BRAINS HIM WITH THE CHAIR! And Angus goes down like the Titanic!
( Apparently Scottish skulls are slightly softer than those of Quebecois technical wrestlers. )
Pat is aghast, and Max take advantage to drag him into the ring, take him down and hit his Standing Moonsault for ONE! and TWO! and HE PULLS HAMILTON UP BEFORE THE THREE! Meanwhile, TNT despite FIVE chair-shots has dragged himself to the top of the ropes, and he hits his Explosive Butt Drop for ONE! and TWO! and THREE! and the pin at 10:40 (15:00?). TNT and Maxx both kneel on Pat to celebrate their victory. Angus is back up though, and he charges the ring scattering the victorious heels.
( Given that these guys are independent wrestlers, that was not a bad job interview on the part of the Highlanders. Except for the bit about taking their kilts off, of course. )
Iron Mike Patterson is out with the mike to console the losers, “You Poor Scottish Bastards!” Pat responds clutching his head, “We’re not going back to Scotland! We’re staying right here to watch Canada beat the shit out of Germany!” Play their music, because THEY LOST!
( HEY! Nothing a wrestling crowd likes more than dancing fat guys, right? )
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|The Great and Mighty OZ
For next: 689
From: Montreal, Quebec, Canada
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Last activity: 2600 days
|AIM: || ||#2 Posted on 4.1.03 0351.43 |
Reposted on: 4.1.10 0352.19
| Llakor Broadcast System|
Friday, January 3rd, 2003
LBS#10: Extreme Dream Part One
Part Two of Three
“Before I introduce the competitors for our second match, let me introduce the referee for our second match, Peanut! I have to tell you people, Peanut is so pathetic. He is the oldest living virgin that I have ever met. Have you ever even seen a woman naked?” Peanut has this look like he asked to be introduced, so that the crowd would know who he was, and now he deeply regrets asking.
“Entering first from the TWF, The Joker’s Wild, Justin Sane!” They are wearing blue and black outfits with the fleur de lis on them, complete with jester hats and white face paint. Lovely! How the hell am I supposed to tell these two fools apart? “Entering next from the IWS, Evilyscious accompanied by the Groupie and the President of the IWS, Carol ‘Cock master’ Coxxx!” Evilyscious enters pushing a shopping cart to the tunes of a song that I don’t recognize which includes the lyrics, “You’re so fucked up!” They are both wearing Black Leather Trench coats with sunglasses. One is wearing a white shirt, and one is wearing a black shirt. I know that one is Malice and the other is Soul Rage, but honestly, I have no idea which is which, so we’ll just refer to one as White Evyl and the other as Black Evyl.
At Born to Bleed, there were four groupies, but now there is only one The Groupie. It’s the catholic school-girl slash Jell-o wrestler from Born to Bleed that I referred to as a Bif Naked clone at Season’s Beatings. She is wearing a pink bandana, a black short shirt that exposes her navel ring, and short torn denim shorts. All she needs is white thigh length boots for the full porn star on the way to a movie shoot look.
( Again calling from 2003, allow me to point out that The Groupie is none other than Elsa Bangz, IWS manager and Wild Rose porn star. )
Right! And her boss, Carol Cox, the older fox with the Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley size implants is wearing a short denim shorts and a red shirt. The blue boys pearl harbour Evilyscious to no avail as Evilyscious bum rushes them out of the ring and White Evyl topes the two followed by a Black Evyl plancha. The bell rings at 10:45. Evilycious retreat to the shopping cart for PLUNDAH! They bring the shopping cart into the ring. One of the blue boys charges into the ring and for his pain he eats a double team under hook power bomb followed by a double power bomb and the cover for one and two and broken up by the other blue boy. The clowns take advantage and it’s a black letter day for Black Evyl as he gets QWERTYed by a keyboard. But White Evyl is up for the save and he SERVES out some vicious shots with a black tray. The blue boys rally briefly, but White Evyl has a chair shot and he swings, and that was rather weak, but the second swing is nice and solid and knocks the clown into the shopping cart. The other blue boy climbs up top, but gets cut off by Black Evyl who flips the clown off the top and covers him for One and Two and broken up a by a blue boy Shopping Cart assault. The blue boys have another keyboard and there are letters everywhere!
( Oh the literati! )
White Evyl rallies and muscles over one of the blue boys in a Russian Leg Sweep into the shopping cart. Black Evyl grabs the other blue boy and lifts him up for a vertical suplex. White Evyl’s blue boy gets his hand on a chair and sends White Evyl flying. Black Evyl knocks the blue boy’s chair away and lifts him up for a Tombstone Pile Driver onto the Keyboard, and you can write that clown off! But before Black Evyl can cover, the other blue boy has grabbed the loose chair and he scrambles Black Evyl’s brains for one and no. Black Evyl rolls out of the ring to join his partner. One of the blue boys goes up top but Black Evyl crotches him on the ring post. As he moans in pain, the two Evyls converge on the remaining blue boy with a gleam in their eye and bad intentions on their mind.
( What is Carol Coxxx doing on the ring apron? )
Taking off her shirt, I think. I should say that Carol is what Scott Keith would dismissively refer to as a ‘Cougar’. This is an Albertan slang term meaning an older woman who is sexually aggressive with younger men. Why Scott would think that this is a bad thing, I have no idea. In any case, when he was using it to refer to Sarah Taker, he seemed to be adding a new definition to the term, making it mean a woman whose face looks older than her body. This would certainly be true of Carol Coxxx, but, again, I don’t see the problem. In the case of both Sarah Taker and Carol Coxxx, their faces may not be the faces of a sixteen year old Calvin Klein underwear model, but in both cases their faces show the character of a life well lived, and I salute them for not filling their face with food poisoning to freeze their expressions, leaving them with the blank expression of a Barbie doll, or say Cher.
( Did you say that Carol was taking her shirt off? )
YES! And Peanut is on his knees in front of her as though he has just become witness to all Nine of the Wonders of the World simultaneously. Peanut, it’s like looking at the sun! You don't stare at it. It's too risky. You get a sense of it and then you look away!
( Evilyscious appear to have flattened the other clown and bum-rushed him out of the ring. )
Mind you, I will cheerfully admit that Carol’s breasts are SPECTACULAR! My compliments to her plastic surgeon! Still, peek and then look away!
( Evilyscious have turned to the remaining clown hanging precariously on the top turn buckle on the opposite side of the ring. )
Speaking of Carol’s plastic surgeon is that his phone number tattooed on her breast or is it a rose or even a birthmark? If it is his phone number, I can understand why he would want to advertise. He does very good work.
( DUDE!? I think Evilyscious is setting up a double-team super-plex, but I can’t watch it while you are busy drooling over Carol’s breasts. Looking at cleavage is like looking at the sun. You don't stare at it. It's too risky. You get a sense of it and then you look away! )
What? I’m sorry, I was just checking out Carol’s breasts they really are quite impressive.
( I will give you that, but the crowd seems to be getting riled up about something happening to our right, so if you could tear your eyes away for one second... Say is that a tattoo of a rose or a birthmark? )
That’s what I am trying to figure out.
( You know, her breasts really are SPECTACULAR. )
( I’m thinking Asia Carrera with a hint of Taylor Hayes and a soupcon of Chasey Lain. )
If you say so. Personally my preference has always run to Felecia.
( Yes, I’ve heard your - just enough is better than too much - speech enough times that I’ve had it chiseled onto the interior surface of your skull as wallpaper thanks. Do you think that porn stars before augmentation walk into their plastic surgeons office and ask for the Jenna Jameson? )
I have no idea.
( You would think that porn stars would make natural spokesmodels for cosmetic surgery. Actually that’s a really good idea... )
( WHAT? )
You have that - I’m about to invest our life savings on powdered water - look in your eyes.
( Are you ever going to let me live that down? It was a perfectly honest mistake. Could have happened to anyone. But this, THIS is a sure fire gold mine we are talking about. We get a spokesperson, somebody smart, respected and a porn star. Asia Carrera, say. We put big ads in Maxim, Playboy, FHM, Cosmo, Vice. Asia saying, “Ladies for Valentines this year give your lover the gift he really wants: MY BREASTS on YOUR BODY. Just go to your cosmetic surgeon and ask for the Asia Carrera. Or enquire about the Jenna Jameson or Taylor Hayes also available. And if your man is the more than a handful type, enquire about the Christy Canyon or the Sandra Scream.” We’ll rake in money by the truck-load! )
GROAN! I am thinking that Asia might just be a little freaked out by the idea of hundreds of women walking around with her breasts.
( HUNDREDS? You are thinking too small dude. We are talking MILLIONS, here. But your right, a spokesmodel with scruples could cause trouble. We’ll have to find someone who would stoop to anything. Shouldn’t be too difficult. )
This is like watching the Titanic slowly careen into the iceberg.
( Did you say that Carol had her plastic surgeon’s phone number tattooed on her breast? Maybe I can interest him in this business venture. )
It’s either his phone number or a tattoo of a rose or a birthmark. AWWW!! SHUCKS!!! Carol’s putting her shirt back on.
( DAMN!! )
Peanut shakes himself out of his daze and notices that Evilyscious have one of the blue clowns flattened in the ring and they are covering him. How did that happen?
( Yeah how DID that happen? )
Peanut counts one and two and three in a daze and Evilyscious get the win and advance at 10:57 (12:00?).
Not that I object to Carol flashing the entire IWS audience. In her case, I figure it amounts to a pop-up ad for her web-site, but in terms of a story it doesn’t make much sense.
( How do you figure? It did distract Peanut letting them get the win. )
True, but this is a hardcore promotion. What could they have done to those clowns that would have made Peanut interfere? Perform a super-plex at gun-point?
( You have a point. I guess we’ll never know what exactly what Evilyscious did in the corner. )
Never mind that the role of a referee in a hardcore promotion is problematic at best. As far as I can tell, their only purpose is to take bumps and make the three count. When the wrestlers are handing around chair shots like candy at Hall’o’Ween, do you think that anyone is going to seriously pay attention to the referee when he tells them not to hit with a clenched fist or choke your opponent?
( Interesting. Still what I really want to know is: Was that a tattoo of a rose or a birthmark or phone number of Carol’s plastic surgeon.? I can see why he would want to advertise, he does very good work. )
Well, the girl next to us is copying down a number on a piece of paper, so maybe she has better eye-sight than we do. Mind you, I don’t think she really needs an upgrade. She has very nice breasts, small but perky, like Bridget Fonda’s breasts in Singles.
( DUDE!? Cleavage, it’s like the sun. It’s dangerous to stare. Peek, then look away. But if you can get me that phone number I would appreciate it. )
You know that advice is much easier to take when her boyfriend, who looks like the under-fed illegitimate love-child of Baron Von Raschke and Luna Vachon, is busy giving you the fish eye. Hey! Iron Mike Patterson’s back! To chants from the crowd, “We fucked your Mom!”
“You sick bastards, she’s 87!” How old is Iron Mike Patterson, anyway? If he’s 40 now, his mother had him when she was 47.
( Maybe he said 67? )
Maybe. The crowd has moved to a new chant calling Iron Mike Patterson a “Colon Cowboy” Iron Mike responds with an extraordinarily original “Shut the Fuck UP!” blowing out his microphone in the process.
( So much for that attempt at a face run. )
While a new mike is being prepared or the old one is being repaired, Mike steals the Two Mountains Mob’s megaphone and uses it to chat up some girls in the crowd, “You beg for sex.” He eventually gets his mike back, “At least I get to talk to a professional! She’s a doctor, a doctor of PORNOLOGY!”
While the broom boys sweep out the ring, Iron Mike Patterson throws out Molson’s shirts and baseball caps. “I’m such a nice man! Our next match features two teams from the IWS, entering first the team of Sexxx and Violence, from Cochrane, Ontario, accompanied by his manager, the Motivator of Madness, Arse-Anal! And his tag-team partner accompanied by his agent Missstresss Nathalie Rose, weighing in at 260 pounds and five pounds of pure cock meat, the IWS champion, The Sexxx Exxxpress, Sexxxy Eddy!” I would continue the fashion show descriptions for Arsenal and Eddy, but Eddy is just going to strip down to his skivvies anyway, and Missstresss Nathalie Rose is wearing this AMAZING dominatrix outfit, complete with a cat of nine tails. OH! MAMA! Hurt me!
( You need professional help, seriously. )
The Motivator of Madness aka Skeletor is, as always, wearing what the well-dressed skeleton wears.
( Harry Rosen? )
I was thinking Moores, myself, the undead tend to be thrifty. Eddy has roses that he gives to Missstresss Rose and he also has the mike, “I know that I look like like I packed on a few pounds over the holidays, but you know what, it doesn’t matter! I just figured out that as long as I am in this tournament, I can’t lose the IWS title. I can’t lose this belt as long as we stay in this tournament.”
( Arsenal doesn’t look happy about Eddy’s failure to take this tournament seriously. I think that he wants the tag-team gold a lot worse than Eddy does. )
I think that you are right. Nathalie Rose jerks the mike out of Eddy’s hands, “Shut the fuck up. I have gotten you a new little toy, but if you want me to bring her out, you are going to have to bark for me bitch!” WOOF! WOOF!
( I think she wants Sexxxy Eddy to bark, not you. )
Eddy’s new toy has that whole slut next door look going on and she is wearing white shorts and a blue skirt. She comes to the ring and throws out empty porn VHS cover boxes. She strips Eddy to Madonna’s “Music” He does the Edge ring hump on top of her and then after she pulls off his boxers, he helps her up and kisses her hand.
( How... European of Eddy. )
Yeah. Very Rocco Siffredi of him. Iron Mike Patterson has managed to get his mike back, “Keep putting away those cream-filled ding-dongs Eddy. I would like to bring out now the man who just made his debut in the historic ECW arena, weighing 230 pounds, the Natural Superstar, Big Steve Royds!” HA! I knew it was Steve!
( Yeah! Yeah! Laugh it up, fuzzball! )
As Steve comes to the ring, Sexxx and Violence make room for him. He gets into a staring contest with Nathalie Rose who tells him, “Keep Walking, Steve!” I really don’t know how Steve is able to maintain eye contact with Missstresss Rose. I mean she has very nice eyes, but they pale compared to her ass.
( Once again, this tournament is brought to you by Wild Rose productions, home for the one-handed hacker. )
SHHH!! Steve is talking, “Justice Pain told me to get rid of those two wankers Ms. Natural and Scotty Revenge. I was going to wrestle this match handicap, but while I was working out at the gym, I met a guy who used to be in this fed. I liked his look, so I invited him out to be my tag team partner.” Some sort of “It’s my life” music starts playing and comes a tall skinny Greek holding not one but two bottles of Ouzo.
Iron Mike Patterson has the mike again, “Steve that’s Drunk Malaka! He was kicked out because he’s a drunken retard. Malaka is Greek for professional masturbator you know.”
( Actually, as I understand the original Greek, the implication is that a Malaka is such a fuck-up that he can’t even masturbate properly, and certainly not well enough to get paid for it. )
Malaka staggers to the ring apron and does the Triple H whale blow hole spot with Ouzo, and my entire section gets doused in a fog of watered down black licorice flavoured alcohol. Steve, with the mike again, “Put those two bottles away and stop embarrassing me.”
The bell rings at 10:10. Eddy and Steve start. They begin with a Test of Strength that Steve wins. Quelle Surprise. They lock-up again and Eddy is ecstatic that he has managed to get Steve in a head lock until Steve picks Eddy up and drops him down. With Eddy on the mat, Malaka tags in and drops the knee. Eddy manages to escape Malaka and tag in his partner, Arsenal, who takes control in a hurry, punishing Malaka with an Alabama Face Jam, followed by a back kick and a suplex. Steve, chafing on the apron, finally has had enough, and charges in to DESTROY Arsenal with a NASTY Power Bomb. Arsenal pops back up and gets Clothes Lined down ONCE! TWICE! THREE TIMES A LADY! Steve throws Arsenal to the outside, follows him out, gets a chair, chair shots him to the back and then rolls him back in. Steve stops to threaten Skeletor and that gives Arsenal, plucky bastard that he is, time to recover. Arsenal super-kicks Steve after he climbs into the ring and then tags in Eddy, waiting at the top rope, who launches himself off in a sweet drop kick. Steve grabs his chair but gets it kicked it into his face by Eddy. Just to rub it in, Eddy straddles Steve for a Sexxxy Eddy Wiggle.
( Eddy! This is not a guy you want to piss off! )
That was a big mistake, as Steve yanks Eddy down and catapults him back up. Eddy ends up sprawled in the enemy corner as Steve stomps him a Sexxxy Eddy mud hole and walks it dry. Steve tags in Malaka who flattens Eddy with a sling-shot power bomb, and then starts working over Eddy’s thigh.
( Hold the phone! Did Malaka just target a body part? )
Believe me, I am just as shocked as you. Eddy staggers up, so Malaka grabs his arm, twists and CLIMBS THE ROPES for an OLD SCHOOL STROLL?!?
( I thought this guy was supposed to be a fuck-up? )
I KNOW! That gets one and no. But Malaka has drifted away from his corner, and Eddy recovers enough to land a drop kick followed by a head-butt to the groin, and a body slam. Eddy climbs to the top of the ropes. Arsenal climbs to the TOP OF EDDY and DROPS THE ELBOW! WOW! Eddy follows up with Sex on the Beach which gets one and two and broken up by a Steve Royds low blow. Steve drop kicks Eddy and follows up with a NASTY suplex.
( Rob better not say BALLS NASTY! )
BALLS NASTY! Arsenal saves with Kendo Sticks and breaks one of them on Steve. With Steve reeling, Arsenal goes up top... and gets pushed off by Malaka.
( Are they sure this guy is a screw up? He seems to be doing everything right so far. )
Malaka pursues Arsenal to the outside, leaving his partner prone in the ring. Eddy takes advantage...
( Never Mind. )
Eddy props a chair on Steve’s chest, and goes up top for his Sex on the Beach split-legged frog splash onto the chair, which gets One and Two and No! Arsenal has managed to elude Malaka, and he sneaks into the ring to deliver ONE! and TWO! chair shots on Steve and THR- NO! Steve side-kicks the chair into Arsenal’s face! Steve drops the elbow on Arsenal’s face and Again and AGAIN and ONCE MORE WITH MUSTARD!!
( I wonder if Arsenal takes it as a compliment that he provokes such hatred in his opponents? I would. )
Well, at the moment, Arsenal has been PROVOKED WIDE OPEN! Skeletor has set up a table on the outside. Malaka has convinced Steve to let him take over again and he faces off with Eddy. Skeletor is on the apron with a chair, but Malaka reverses an Irish Whip and sends Eddy crashing into the Motivator of Madness, who just misses the table on the way down. Malaka tags Steve in and he cuts off Arsenal rushing in and power bombs/drops him from the ring to the outside through the table. Steve grabs Eddy and Phantom Slams him down. TIME FOR THE WEIGHT BELT!!
( Well, Missstresss Rose did call Sexxxy Eddy a dog, so I suppose it is only appropriate that he is being whipped like one. )
I don’t think she is very happy about this development. Her buttocks are fairly quivering with anger.
( I thought that *I* was supposed to be the guy who obsesses about stuff like this. )
She is standing all of three feet in front of me, it’s a little hard not to notice. And what has gotten into you to-day anyway? Normally, you would be drooling like a Tex Avery character right now.
( I’m not sure. I think it’s the suit. Having eight mechanically lactating breasts is helping me get in touch with my feminine side. )
God give me strength.
Eddy is giving the best old school arched back sell to the weight-belt whipping, and as he staggers away from Steve, Steve uses the weight-belt to low blow Eddy and fold him like a cheap suit. This is waaaay more than Missstresss Rose can tolerate and she steps into the ring to hit Steve twice with her cat of nine tails. Steve... reacts somewhat less enthusiastically than I would in the same situation.
( Oh give it up. You take Tylenol after a paper cut! There is no way that you would make a good submissive. )
Steve is busy describing to Missstresss Rose exactly how long she is going to be in traction after he is done with her, but this gives Eddy time to recover and pearl harbour Steve. Eddy goes up top, and you know what, I still hate Sex on the Beach as the name for Eddy’s finisher. Just a second, let me find my black resistol hat.
( You aren’t going to do your JR impression are you? )
YEP! The Sexxx Exxxpress, Sexxxy Eddy, the IWS champion, KING (OZ), has climbed up top. He is standing fully erect, stretched to his full extension. Steve Royds lies prone on the mat below. Royds is a HOSS, KING (OZ), but can even he take the full force of PETER NORTH! PETER NORTH! PETER! BY! GOD! NORTH! ONE! TWO! THREE! SEXXX & VIOLENCE WINS!
( As silly as this is, I could live with being called KING (OZ). )
Sexxxy Eddy and Arsenal win at 11:25 (15:00?) Steve Royds is NOT HAPPY, and he takes out his frustrations on Arsenal, throwing him around, Sexxxy Eddy, giving him the Anabolic Drop, and finally Missstresss Rose stealing her roses and chasing her out of the ring. Skeletor, wisely, stays out of Steve Royds rage rampage. Malaka finally shows up a little confused as to how they lost without him getting pinned in the process. Steve turns on him and seems about to explode, but finally contents himself with shouting, “You want to tag with Steve? Get to the gym and work out, AND STOP DRINKING!!”
And with that match out of the way, it is now time for the part of the recap where I, Llakor, give career advice to the Natural Superstar Steve Royds aka Steve Risez aka the wrestler who writes to me. Because and I'm quoting Steve here, "I find you to be know the finer points of the business... I like the way u understand psychology and stuff"
( We haven’t done one of these in a while. )
Well, Steve doesn’t really need my advice. But this match does point to one of Steve’s problems in my view. Despite the fact that he was still wrestling as a heel in this match, the crowd was solidly behind him, partly because they hated Eddy and Arsenal more, partly because they were pleased and proud of his appearance at CZW, but mostly because Steve has this goofy charm even as a heel that’s hard to dismiss. It would be very easy for Steve to go baby face, and that would be a shame, because there is a shortage of mean, vicious, ass-kicking heels. So, to keep Steve heel, and keep that heel spirit of his strong, I would like to suggest.
( Hold on Sparky! Do I take it that YOU are going to be giving Steve Royds tips on how to stay heel? )
( Sit down before you hurt yourself. This is obviously my department. )
I am sitting down. Besides, I always give Steve advice.
( Flip you for it? )
All Right. Fine.
( Here’s my Harvey Dent pre-scars Double Eagle. You flip. I’ll call. )
OK. Call it!
( Heads! )
DAMN! Heads it is. You take it.
( Steve. Dude. Here’s what you do. Go to your nearest SPCA. Find some kitten that was a one day Christmas gift and then discarded to the outside with the wrapping paper on Boxing Day. Some miserable creature that has lost all trust with humanity. Nurse the pathetic thing back to health. Renew it’s belief in man as a benevolent creature. Give the fluffy thing some cute name like Snowball or Muffy.)
I am very confused.
( Nothing new there. Once the little kitten trusts you implicitly, take her for a walk to the McGill Football Stadium. Put her down on about the twenty yard line. Then, and this is key, when you kick the kitten, you are looking for height, distance and accuracy. If you can split the uprights from twenty yards out, you should be able to stay heel for a good long time. )
THAT is the most disgusting thing that I have ever heard of. YOU ARE A MONSTER!
( Well, I’m not really a cat person. Especially at the moment what with the whole dog costume and all. They say that Arn Anderson’s record is thirty-three yards. Mind you that’s in Yankee Football. On a CFL field, he probably could have gotten forty yards easy. )
STOP THAT! There will be no taking of Arn Anderson’s name in vain!
( Touchy! Touchy! I would think that you would be happy to know that he holds the record. )
OH THANK GOD! Iron Mike Patterson is back out! He plugs the IWS Praise the Violence tape, but is interrupted mid-shill when the screen comes down for an anti-IWS promo by a French Montreal promotion called the ICW. Iron Mike Patterson is less than impressed, “Learn to speak English bitch! What does ICW stand for anyway? ICW - I Can’t Wrestle.” Iron Mike Patterson starts doing a Hogan schtick that was much funnier when Paul Wight was doing it.
Ruffneck is out to Ref. “Entering first from Lima Peru, the Latino Connection,” who are wearing black and red outfits. Neither Latino is very big. The taller one, Latino Kid, looks like Fez from That 70’s Show, only more serious. The smaller one, Latino Mysterio, is really small, and he wears a Rey Mysterio Jr. mask, hence the name.. Iron Mike Patterson tries to interview them, but that fails as Mike declares, “They only speak Spanish.”
( Don’t Peruvians speak Portuguese?)
Indeed they do.
Latino Mysterio is doing Christian’s snooze on the ropes bit, as Mike announces, “And their competitors, from Fabertown Japan, at a combined weight of 666 pounds, The Hardcore NINJAZ~!” The NINJAZ~, just to fuck with me, are BOTH wearing black belts thus making it impossible for me to tell them apart. Actually, if you memorize their tattoos, you can tell them apart, but that’s a little obsessive even for me.
( Excuses. Excuses. )
The bell rings at 11:35. The Latinos jump the NINJAZ~ at the bell, stereo suplexing the NINJAZ~, and then rolling one NINJA~ out of the ring while they double-team the other. A kick by Mysterio combined with a clothes line by Latino Kid drops the NINJA~, and Latino Kid covers for one and two and no. Ruffneck tries to convince Latino Mysterio to go to his corner, while Latino Kid suplexes the NINJA~ in the ring, but sadly Latino Mysterio is too elusive, and the two Latinos combine for a double-team spinning punch followed by a double-team kick to the NINJA~’s back, and they finish off the NINJA~ with a double-team kick to the head. Pulling the woozy NINJA~ up, Latino Mysterio walks the ropes leaping off to take down the NINJA~ with a scissors hold.
( Could we get some officiating from Ruffneck? How hard can it be to control these pip-squeaks anyway? It looks like Ruffneck could lift both of them up with one hand! )
The NINJA~ on the outside runs in to save his partner, kicking Latin Mysterio in the head with authority. The two NINJAZ~ combine for a double team back breaker on Latino Mysterio. His partner, Latino Kid, interferes throwing one NINJA~ out and side-kicking the other. With a NINJA~ woozy in the ring, Latino Kid climbs and his flying body press knocks the NINJA~ down for One and Two and reversed by the NINJA~ for one and two and reversed by Latino Kid for ONE and TWO and NO! They break, but only for a second as Latino Kid rolls up the NINJA~ for ONE! and TWO! and NO! They run the ropes with the NINJA~ pursuing Latino Kid, and running right into a sunset flip, Latino Kid covering for ONE! And TWO! And JOHHNY ACE! They break and cinch up with the NINJA~ coming up with a SWEET arm-drag take down that he converts into a pinning opportunity for One and Two and No! Latino Kid struggles to his feet, gets Irish-Whipped into and over the ropes, but he skins the cat back in only to get NINJA~kicked in the gut.
( EEP! As much as I appreciate the drama, could we not give these jobbers too much hope? Next thing you know, these Latinos are going to be the Mulkeys for 2002. )
The Latino Kid slumps to the ring apron, where he is held by one NINJA~ as the other NINJA~ baseball slides him. This leaves Latino Kid on the floor to the outside with both NINJAZ~ stomping on him as Latino Mysterio climbs to the top and comes off the top like Alexandre Despatie from the ten metre platform. Latino Mysterio rolls a NINJA~ into the ring and goes up top, but he gets crotched.
( Poor guy! His balls only just dropped and now this. )
Latino Mysterio collapses to the ring. The NINJA~ grabs him for a power-bomb, but... You can’t power-bomb Latino Mysterio? The reversal gets ONE! and TWO and T-JOHNNY ACE! Both... , well let’s be charitable and say both ‘men’ are down. Latino Kid rolls into the ring with a chair for himself and one for his partner. A rather odd beat down occurs as Los Latinos just SMOKE the NINJA~ when he is standing, but when he is on the ground they tap him lightly with the chairs as though they were afraid that if they hit him too hard an alien would burst from his chest or something. The NINJA~ finally staggers to his feet way from the chairs, setting himself up perfectly for Latino Mysterio to lower the boom with El Rockero Droppero which gets ONE! and TWO! and TH-JOHNNY! BY! GOD! ACE!
( Enough of this! My heart can’t take much more! )
The other NINJA~ has been building some fiendish NINJA~ device on the outside confident that his brother can handle Los Latinos on his own, but even he was a little freaked by that near fall, so he charges in to the ring as Latino Mysterio tries to propel his brother into El Acido Droppo and instead gets OUCH! just OUCH! to the outside. The two NINJAZ~ start dishing out some hardcore NINJA~ violence. They maneuver Latino Kid onto the apron in front of the NINJA~ device, but Latino Mysterio who must be made out of Indian rubber or something, saves and kicks a NINJA~ into the NINJA~ device. The other NINJA~ flattens Latino Kid and then goes up top to drop the Randy Savage Flying Elbow Drop, and the cover, but saved by Latino Mysterio. Hey! I think that I’ve got it figured out! I think I think, that the NINJA~ quivering on the outside is the Yellow NINJA~ and the one getting his ass kicked in the ring is Hardcore NINJA~#1. Los Latinos combine to catapult Hardcore NINJA~#1 into a super-kick and the cover for ONE! and TWO! and THR-RUFFNECK PULLED OUT OF THE RING BY THE YELLOW NINJA~!! He has a chair and OH THAT WAS JUST SICK!
( Hit him again! Hit him again! )
The Yellow NINJA~ is really not leaving anything to chance as he really follows through on the chair shots: SICK! SICKER! AN AIDS WARD IN AFRICA! THE BLACK DEATH! KEITH RICHARDS! Hardcore NINJA~#1 has dragged a table into the ring. He sets it up and the two NINJAZ~ roll Los Latinos onto the table, and drape a Japanese flag over their sad, pathetic, mutilated bodies. And I have no idea which NINJA~ is which anymore. I knew and then they were standing next to one another and *whoosh* it was gone. One NINJA~ jumps on the other shoulders and falls on the table leaving shards of table and Los Latinos all over the ring. Latino Kid, unwisely, staggers to his feet and he gets sandwhiched by NINJA~kickery and covered for ONE and TWO and THREE!! NINJAZ~ WIN! at 11:46 (11:00?)
( I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! )
WOO! + HOO! NINJAZ~ WIN!
( NINJAZ~ WIN! )
I am so happy!
( My nipples are erect and tingly. All eight of them! )
All right, that’s just SICK!
For next: 56573
From: Montreal, Quebec, CANADA
Since last post: 506 days
Last activity: 497 days
|AIM: || ||#3 Posted on 4.1.03 0355.17 |
Reposted on: 4.1.10 0355.51
| Llakor Broadcast System|
Friday, January 3rd, 2003
LBS#10: Extreme Dream Part One
Part Three of Three
Iron Mike Patterson is out to survey the carnage, “Let’s have a round of applause for the Latino Connection and your very own HARDCORE NINJAZ~!! Peru vs. Japan! Lucha Libre vs. NINJA~ Style! The next two teams are both from the MWF. Entering first the United Nation of Insanity.” We’ve got one guy in an orange and red flame shirt and one guy in a black and white flame suit. Both guys are wearing face paint. Did the IWS recruit for this show at a convention for identical twins or something? This is like the third team tonight where I can barely tell the partners apart. “Their opponents at a combined weight of 512 pounds, the Angry Aryans, Viking and Damian.” Well, this is more like it. We have the thin skin-head racist wearing a HATE shirt and black pants, and the fat southern racist with a Vikings shirt numbered 88, green cargo pants and a Confederate flag. The ability to tell these guys apart and tell which is which doesn’t really make up for the fact that I really hate the gimmick and since they are the staplers from the promos at the top of the show, my hopes for the quality of this match are sinking like the stone forming in my gut.
( You are such a weenie. How bad could this be? )
House of fire start, and the Angry Aryans give us gay tag-team partners position number one. Lovely. They rally and Damian kicks White Flames in the face, so White Flames retaliates with a Whitby Boot of Death. Viking protests, so he hits a spear from Orange Flames, followed by a sit-out Bubba Bomb. Viking recovers, holds Orange Flames upside down for Damien’s baseball slide. piledriverpiledriverpowerbomb... and the Angry Aryans don’t even bother going for the pin. Allow me just to point out that all of this is happening at a hundred miles an hour as these two teams try to hide their technical deficiencies by going faster, always faster. In the process, they look worse and worse, if that is even possible, and they rob all of their moves of any dramatic meaning.
( WOW! This match would have to get 100% better to reach the level of drizzling shits. )
Damian baseball slides Orange Flames for two, and he repeats the move with the same result. Orange Flames shows that he too played baseball once upon a time, and he too gets a two count. He picks up Damian for an Alberquerque Face Jam, and tags in his tag-team partner. They double-team for a double-team wheel barrow face jam, and continue with a double-team somersault power bomb. White Flames takes over with a suplex on Damian. You could go for a cover any time, dude.
( When guys at the Death Valley Driver board call the IWS “spot-monkeys” this, THIS, is exactly what they mean. )
White Flames climbs up top for a Spear... which misses. Viking goes up top... misses, landing on his face. Orange Flames goes up top... misses, landing on his butt. Damian climbs up top... misses.
( I think that there was some kind of point struggling to be made there, but that was just sad, really. )
Viking has been man-handled into an upside-down tree of woe. A chair is propped on his face and both Flame dorks go up top at which point the chair naturally falls off Viking’s face.
( This is just a comedy of errors. Only UNFUNNY. )
Simultaneous Van Terminators. Do we give them credit for an impressive move? Or do we call them spot monkeys?
( Spot Monkeys. )
Oh! Lovely! The Flaming Dorks have the stapler and “Fuck You” notes. They staple these to Viking’s arms. Marvy. Let’s use lots of staples shall we? Super.
( Can I say it? )
I think that I would like to.
( Flip you for it? )
OK. But this time you flip. I call.
( Here’s my Harvey Dent pre-scars Double Eagle. Call it! )
( Heads! )
DAMN! Go ahead.
( This. This. This. THIS is NOT WRESTLING! )
Oh look. The Orange Flame Dork just got two on Damian. Yippee. Fuck you very much Damian for prolonging this torture. Viking tries to save his partner and gets dumped on his head to the outside by the White Flame Dork. I can’t believe that he’s losing brain cells for this match.
( I can’t believe that I am losing brain cells for this match. )
POINT! The Orange Flame Dork is doing something to Damian. Whatever. The two Flame Dorks drag Viking to the top and super-plex him off. *YAWN* Viking gets thrown outside and they do the super-plex Damian off the top and OH! THANK! GOD! a cover, and is it just me or was Ruffneck counting a little faster than normal on that three count? Flame Dorks win at the stroke of midnight. Ten (?) minutes of my life that I will never get back again. I can’t believe that Steve Royds, Los Latinos and the Highlanders have all been eliminated and the Flame Dorks advanced.
( Not that the Angry Aryans were much better. )
Got that right.
Iron Mike Patterson is back out with the mike, “That was SICK! You Anthony Edwards bastard.” Christ, Mike, could you please not encourage them? “There is ONE MORE MATCH!” One? What about the Iceberg/Face of Death match against mystery opponents? “As always at the IWS, this is a HARDCORE main event. The rules are... there are no fucking rules. Entering first, weighing 500 pounds, the team of Green Drugs, from a needle-infested alley, PCP, Crazy Fucking Manny and his partner from the Ancient Green Hills of Two Mountains, the GREEN PHANTOM!” Phantom grabs the mike, “This ring isn’t hardcore enough!” Manny chimes in, “Security put barbed wire on these ropes. I don’t want to see these ropes.” Patterson is a little freaked at this development, “This is crazy. I’m getting the fuck out of here.” While barb-wire is busy being wrapped on the ring ropes, Green Phantom goes to his Two Mountains Mob for help, “Hey Two Mountains! Can I borrow some chairs?” Peanut is busy making the universal symbol for you guys are certifiable.
( So all things considered, this is pretty typical Chomedey Saturday night. )
I suppose, but I don’t think that the eight guys in black ICW shirts who are rushing the ring are what you were expecting. Manny and Green Phantom put up a valiant fight, but the numbers eventually overwhelm them and the ICW guys start breaking out the weapons, cookie trays, steel canes, barbed wire bats. They are just beating the shit out of Green Phantom and Manny, and the crowd is pissed. Debris starts flying into the ring. Empty porn box covers, paper, empty plastic beer cups, half-empty plastic beer cups, my full beer cup... HEY! That was my beer! The ICW guys are proudly modelling their shirts which say “ICW - Wrestling at its Best” on the front and “IWS” crossed off with “ASS” underneath it.
( These guys don’t even make any sense. Are they saying that IWS is not ASS? If you are going to be insulting at least be coherent. )
The ICW guys are now mooning the crowd. The entire Two Mountains Mob led... get this... by IRON MIKE PATTERSON is on the apron on the verge of charging the ring. OK. I HAVE to say something.
( No, I HAVE to say something. )
Nope, sorry, I called it.
( Flip you for it? )
Not bloody likely. I’m pulling rank.
( WHAT? You and what super-hero to back you up, chump-stain? The flip is holy. The flip is sacred. )
We only know the one super-hero.
( You don’t mean? )
Yeah. Don’t make me call in Captain Control.
( FINE. You win. Make your piddly little point. )
Thank you, I will.
I have to say that I am in AWE of the booking of this little run-in slash Invasion. First of all, by battering the top two baby-faces of the IWS to a bloody pulp in the middle of the ring, these guys have been established as credible threats right from the outset, but since it was eight against two, they have also been built as cowards that the IWS guys might be able to beat in a fair fight. Manny and Green Phantom have a built-in reason to to go looking for revenge and when they do, the IWS fans will be oh-so-ready for it.
But beyond all of that, take just the tiny little detail of Iron Mike Patterson LEADING the Two Mountains Mob. First of all, the bickering that Mike and Two Mountains have always indulged in has been discarded in the face of a common enemy. In and of itself, that is impressive, but add to that the effect that Iron Mike has by leading the charge. Because he has made himself their leader, Mike has some control over them, and because he isn’t quite going over the ropes into the ring, he holds the rest of the crowd from rushing the ring and putting the wrestlers in jeopardy. As the tip of the spear, he can control the high tide mark of the crowd. I don’t know if that was an accident or deliberate. Either way, it was genius. Good thing too, because unrestrained by Mike’s self-restraint, I think that the IWS fans would have torn those ICW goons into little bitty bloody shreds.
Was that what you were going to say?
( More or less. )
At 12:15, the ICW guys leave the ring. As they leave, the crowd starts pounding the ring and chanting “IWS” urging Manny and Phantom back to their feet. I know that there couldn’t have been more than three hundred people in the room at that moment. I know that intellectually, and I know that three hundred people can only make so much noise. That being said, the noise that was made in Le Skratch that night was as loud as any wrestling crowd that I had ever been in. Even looking back, almost a year later, only two wrestling crowds that I have ever been in were noisier: the Hogan love-in at Raw in Montreal, and the crowd at the Sky-Dome for Wrestlemania X-8. We may have been only three hundred and possibly even less, but on this night we roared “IWS” with one voice and it was the voice not of three hundred wrestling fans, but of three thousand, nay of THIRTY THOUSAND that roared “IWS!”
And it was right here that I had an epiphany. Maybe the IWS won’t always feature the old school, focus on a body part, technical wrestling that I love. Maybe the IWS crowd is just a little too blood-thirsty for my comfort. Maybe I am not the biggest fan of garbage wrestling in the world. At this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that this was the IWS, and this was my fed, no OUR FED. And PCP crazy Fucking Manny and the Green Phantom were OUR HEROES, and we would stand by this fed and by these men until they pried our cold dead fingers off. This was the moment that I learned to stop worrying and love the IWS.
At 12:20, John and Jeckel Fury, one bald and one a Raven clone run out and try to cheap out a lackadaisical cover, but our heroes will not be held down. Both Furys go up top for some high-flying twisty shit that hits with tremendous impact, but our champions will not be kept down. Manny RISES and grabbing the Bald Fury, lands his sit-out power bomb, and picking his foe back up, choke slams him down on his knee, ONCE! TWICE! and leaving him twitching, grabs his partner and suplexes Raven Fury onto the twitching Bald Fury. Green Phantom now RISES in turn and grabs the two Furys, climbs to the top rope with them, props one over each shoulder and Phantom Bombs both down to the mat. His Arrogant Cover gets one and two and no. Isolating the Bald Fury, Green Phantom drops the leg, then propping a chair on the Bald Fury’s face, Phantom goes for the Field Goal... and it’s good! THREE POINTS! The Green Phantom holds the Bald Fury for Manny’s cover broken up by Raven Fury. Manny gets a chair, but eats IRONY! Bald Fury foot stomps Manny, and an actual tag team match appears to have broken out with partners waiting to be tagged and everything.
( I thought that there were no rules? Isn’t tagging a rule? )
Don’t think about it. Thinking about it gives me a migraine.
Raven Fury is in. The Furys combine to double-team pick-up Manny and they drop him on the barb-wire ropes. Raven Fury spears Manny into the barb-wire, and Green Phantom suddenly remembers that there are no rules in an IWS main-event and comes rushing in to save his partner. Green Phantom’s charge takes both him and Raven Fury into the barb wire. Raven Fury wraps a desperation Sleeper on the Green Phantom, but he picks Raven Fury up and slams him down. The Two Mountains Mob have a sign for Green Phantom marked “Use the Wood Phantom”, a sign better known as the Green Mountain Wooden Sign of Death. Green Phantom grabs two chairs and the sign to build a Green Phantom instrument of torture. He picks up Bald Fury, climbs onto a chair and it appears like he is going to pile drive Bald Fury through the sign, but his foot slips and OH THAT’S JUST GRUESOME!! Manny takes over and picks up the quivering remains of Bald Fury and drapes Bald Fury over his shoulders. Phantom sneaks in a chair shot to Bald Fury’s face, and Manny uses the momentum to really spike the DDT. He follows up with a kick and another chair shot to the prone Bald Fury. Picking up Bald Fury, Manny slingshots him over in a BRUTAL Face Jam and rolls him over for the cover and One and Two and No. Manny reassembles the chairs, and props the Bald Fury on them when some French Female Valet runs in to shield Bald Fury with her body.
( Shall I just run down all the reasons why this is a hideous mistake on her part? One, Manny is a junkie. Two, Manny is PISSED. Three, Green Phantom is PISSED. Four, this is the IWS. Five, this is an IWS main event. Six, here comes Green Phantom with a chair. )
The valet, seeing an enraged masked man with a chair swinging in her general direction, scampers, and Bald Fury eats a VICIOUS chair shot. Manny and Green Phantom set up a table in the ring. TNT and Maxx Fury have run out and they ambush Manny and Green Phantom. With Manny and Green Phantom down, TNT and Maxx clear the ring of tables and chairs. They then turn their attentions to Manny who is tottering to his feet. TNT goes up top, and he hits Manny with a drop kick at the same time that Maxx is hitting him with a side kick. Maxx follows up with a standing moonsault on Manny. After some egregious kicking, the two men leave and head to the back, leaving Manny and Green Phantom laid out in the middle of the ring.
( JERKS! )
Raven Fury, sticking his head back out once the storm is over, has from somewhere gotten a thumb-tack chair. He starts laying in the shots on both Manny and Green Phantom, but both men RISE UP! and blocking the chair, grab both Raven Fury and Bald Fury and drop them on the barb wire ropes. Manny and Green Phantom bring a table back into the ring. Green Phantom climbs up on the table with Bald Fury in his arms as Manny rolls Raven Fury on the table. Green Phantom falls off the table, shrugs and decides to pile drive Bald Fury into the mat for shits and giggles. Climbing back on the table with Bald Fury, Green Phantom executes the Furys by Phantom Edge-ing Bald Fury into his partner and through the table. It’s academic at this point, but Peanut dutifully counts ONE! and TWO! and THREE! for the pin and the win at 12:31 (11:00?)
Phantom holds up Manny’s hand in victory, in the process making Manny do the watusi spin, showing off Manny’s back, which looks like a red and white flesh circuit board, to the entire crowd. TNT and Heavy Maxx Fury are back with the stripper bodyguards, and they really lay into Manny and the Green Phantom.
( Again from 2003, allow me to point out that in addition to looking like the drugged out bodyguards for Montreal lap dancers, those two big guys are none other than Iceberg and Face of Death. )
Oh man, you’re right! I knew that there was a reason that I hated those guys. Somebody has handed Iceberg a guitar and FOD sprays it full of lighter fluid and lights it up. The flame guitar goes off Green Phantom’s skull EVERYWHERE! And when I say EVERYWHERE! I mean EVERYWHERE! The ring, the wrestlers, the ref, the crowd, the girl next to me with the perky tits is on fire, The Girl Next To Me Is On Fire!! THE GIRL NEXT TO ME IS ON FIRE!!! And rather than doing the stop, drop and roll that we all learned in kindergaten, she is doing the let’s jump around and spread the fire as much as possible watusi.
( HEY! Save that phone number from burning! I need it. )
You are a SICK individual. While I have been busy dodging bits of Flame Guitar and avoiding being trampled by people on fire, someone has set up a table made of light tubes in the ring. Iceberg and FOD pick up Manny and High Times him through the table.
( Oh yeah, chalk dust, beer, ouzo fumes, plastic cups, lighter fluid, burning cardboard guitar and fluorescent dust, that’s the stuff man. Smell that? It smells like... CANCER! )
“YOU MADE US DO THIS!!”
SUUURRRE THEY DID!!
“THIS SHOW ENDS NOW!”
Well, thanks for telling me. The time is 12:35.
And so concludes another IWS recap,
Until Next Time,
It’s Goodbye from me, and
( I am not saying Good Night Gracie. It’s not gonna happen. )
Right. Until that next time,
Llakor that Lousy Canuck
Former [slash] columnist
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