Miasmatic Review

Rasslin'

Some of you may remember that a couple of weeks back I attended a Wrestlemania Party. Let me start off by saying, I do not like wrestling. (Pronounced Rass-lin) Years ago I used to be a fan of the WWF, now the WWE. That was when I was in middle school. As I grew up I realized just how stupid it was. That and it’s not a sport. I don’t care what people say, it is NOT a sport. Sports are not scripted and the participants know who is going to win before the match ever starts. I will concede that the wrestlers are athletes. They do need to know what they are doing and they do keep themselves pretty physically fit. Even the big fat ones have to be pretty damn strong to do some of the stuff they do.

Since I have no love for wrestling, I tried to talk my way out of having to go to this party. I tried everything from “You know I really hate wrestling, you wouldn’t be too pissed if I didn’t show, would you?” to “If I go, I’m just going to make fun of it the whole time.” The two friends of mine hosting it insisted I be there. I think that both of them have it in their head that they will win me over to becoming a wrestling fan. Both of them are pretty damn delusional.

Earlier that day I was supposed to go shooting. The weather didn’t cooperate, and I didn’t get to go. Since I had nothing better to do, I picked up some beer and headed to my friends house early. When I walked through the door Ton-loc (My friend who owns the house) wasn’t there. Our mutual friend J-man was there watching Nascar. J-man and Ton-loc have been friends for a long time, J-man tends to head there when he wants to get away from his wife and kids. Now if there is anything I dislike almost as much as Wrestling, it’s Nascar. The only time I find Nascar remotely interesting is when there is an accident. Any competition (Nascar is not a sport) that only appeals to my sadistic side is not one I want to watch. J-man is a huge Dale Jr. fan, so of course to get myself in the mood for that night's festivities. Cracking open a beer, I sit down and start the conversation with, “So has Dale crashed yet? Ya know he’s going to lose right?” Yea, I’m a good man. He smarted off something about he’s in tenth place. So which I respond with, “That makes him the 9th loser right? Because there is only one winner, every one else lost. They just lost at varying degrees of suck.” J-man looks at me as I finish my first beer and says, “You’ve been here 10 minutes, you’ve already drank one beer and are being a complete arsehole already. It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?" Of course I respond with, ”Well I asked if could get out of this, both you and ton-loc said no, deal with your bad decision.”

Wrestlemania was as bad, if not worse then I had anticipated. By the time the show started, I was over halfway through the case of beer. Each match I’m sitting there tearing into it, making fun of the whole thing spouting off insults and just laughing at the cheesy acting and script. Now, there was one match that I actually got into. There was some kind of no-holds barred match where the wrestlers could use weapons. One guy comes in with a baseball bat. After a couple of hits he throws it out of the ring. I’m screaming at the TV “What the fark!?!?!?! Don’t throw the bat out, go Babe Ruth on his kidneys!” The other wrestler had barbed wire wrapped around him, and he pulled it out and was cutting the shit out of bat-boy. At one point barbed wire man had the barbed wire around bat-boy like he was choking him. “Pop his farkin’ head off!” came out of my mouth before my sensitivity filter kicked in. The other people in the room are looking at me as if I was the one trying to garrote someone. Barbed wire man jumped out of the ring and picked up a baseball bat… wrapped in barbed wire. I think at this point I actually laughed amusedly. Again, I’m cheering on to use the barbed wire wrapped bat to beat the ever-loving snot out of the other guy. Nope, just a couple of cuts and then they pull out aluminum cookie sheets to hit each other with.

Yes

That’s right.

They gave up bats, for aluminum cookie sheets. I sat down in my chair and went off on a tirade that I swear is still hovering over Rockford and causing women to blush and children to plug their ears. C’mon I could smash your skull with a bat, but I’m going to use an aluminum cookie sheet that forms itself to the contours of your face when I hit you with it. It was like a farking cartoon folks!

After the cookie sheets, one of the guys goes and moves the stairs into the ring. There is a pair of brass knuckles and some kind of bag. Of course Mr. Sadist here is screaming for the brass knuckles. The other people in the room are starting to get panicked. One of the guys runs and grabs me a beer thinking he could distract me from my hope of impending violence. Both fail when the idiot grabs the bag instead of the brass knuckles. ”That damn bag better be filled with lead shot.” I mutter under my breath. Nope, no lead shot. Tacks, brass thumbtacks are what are in the bag. What the hell, this sucks. You could be rearranging the other guy’s skull, but no you are going to tack him down. FARK!!!!!

Then the wrestler pours the tacks out all over the ring. The other wrestler grabs him and body slams the guy that dumped the tacks out onto said tacks. When the wrestler got up, his back and arms where covered in tacks. He looked like he was wearing studded leather. That was actually cool. The match went on and there was some fire and some other stuff and the studded bat-boy ended up winning, but that was the only match I enjoyed.

The Losers My friends got all excited about the women wrestling matches. I was less then enthralled by it. Unless they are wrestling in pudding, I just don’t care. Ton-loc asked at one point during one of the matches, ”Do you have to work hard to be that big of an arsehole, or does it just come naturally?” I explained it’s all natural.

As soon as the event was over, I took off and headed home. It was 4 hours of my life I will never get back.