What’s the deal with sunglasses? Have you seen this?

I found a website where a stand-up comic talks about their travels.  I’ve heard that the life of a stand-up is a lot like the life of a wrestler.  You travel all the time.  You work shit venues.  You may or may not get paid.  You suck at it when you first start.  You’re alone most of the time.  A lot of the people who do it are totally fucked up.  Drugs, suicide, etc.  If you screw up in comedy, you don’t break your neck.  So that’s a difference. 

I read a lot of this guy’s blog.  Maybe he’s just a more successful comedian than I am a wrestler, but it didn’t seem that much the same to me.  All his posts have the format of, I went to this city, I stayed at this hotel, I ate at this restaurant, and here’s how the show went.  Sounds like his hotel is always paid for and they were usually nice.  He ate at real restaurants and went to fancy coffee places.  He has a story about getting confused doing the math trying to leave a tip for a $100 bill at a burger place. 

On the other hand, if I used his format I would say “Slept in car, ate what I grabbed out of the dumpster at Burger King at closing time.”  The only thing that was the same was the shows.  He’ll write “I worked in Waterbury for 30 people last night, crowd was shitty”.  Now that sounds familiar to me. 

At first I couldn’t understand why a comedy show with 30 people at it could have so much more money to throw at the worker than a wrestling show.  But I figured out that they don’t.  If you have a bar or a theater or whatever and you want to have comedy, all you need is a guy, maybe two, and that’s it.  You can cover that one guy’s hotel and pay them $50 burger money. 

Even the crappiest wrestling show has at least five matches.  That means you have at minimum 10 people to pay.  Plus a referee and a couple other people.  Maybe a sound guy.  So you have the same money as that comedy show being split 15 ways instead of all going to one person.  You can pay for one guy to stay at the Hilton Garden Inn.  20 guys not so much. 

There are some similarities between stand-up and wrestling but one of them not only doesn’t break your bones and scramble you brains, it’s also more lucrative.  Too bad I’m not funny.

Antiques Roadshow – Magic serial killer edition

The professor asked me to meet him at his office on campus rather than his house.  I guess because he’s married.  He can’t exactly pass me off as one of his students.  Although I suppose she probably wouldn’t like it if he was bringing female students home either.

Walking across campus, I wondered what percentage of the current Cornell student body I could beat in a fight.  Does Cornell have a football team?  That seems like the only segment I’d have to worry about.  Maybe that should be my new gimmick.  I issue a challenge to an entire college to see if they can best me.  The joke would be I always fight the mascot.  That idea is a winner, people. 

Once I got to his office and showed him the stuff from the Bessie Love collection, he said that his spell would tell him the provenance of the items.  I’m not 100% sure what provenance means but I get the gist of it.  When he cast the spell, he freaked out like someone dumped a bucket of roaches down his pants.  I grabbed him and put my hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming because I was worried someone would hear and come running in. 

It didn’t work very well.  Is anything in movies real?

Once he was calmed down, still looking like he was going to have a stroke, he admonished me for not warning him about the history of the things.  I thought I did tell him that it might have belonged to a serial killer but maybe I didn’t.  But I think I did. 

Once he was “prepared” he did his spell again and confirmed what I had read in Royale’s journal.  This stuff belonged to the blood magician that she and Royale “took down”.  I guess they probably killed him, huh?  Or maybe just by taking away his magic stuff, that stopped him?  Maybe they were able to cancel out his magic and just let the authorities deal with him.  I’ll never know now since his notes and everything are burned up. 

The professor was also able to tell me that the coat is magicked up to be a bulletproof vest. Only better.  Also fireproof and acidproof, he said.  Because of all the acid flying around, you know.  So if I want to wear a men’s coat that’s 100 years out of style, I can have armor. 

The wallet he said was the equivalent of magic Viagra.  Put it in your pocket and you’ve got erections for days.  I’m pretty sure he was lying so he could keep it.  I bet it gives you some kind of good luck in getting money.  Or maybe it actually makes money.   I’ll find out if he gets arrested for passing counterfeit bills.

The second rule of outlaw fight club is eat at Applebee’s

I got a call from Outlaw Fight Club asking me to come out west.  They’re starting a YouTube show and they’re going to film seven episodes over a long weekend.  They aren’t sure how many shows they want me on, but they offered me 400 bucks regardless if I was used or not.  Sounded like they didn’t really know what their own plan was. 

I told them I would love to work for them next time I’m in the area, but a cross country road trip would cost me close to 400 dollars.  They asked why I didn’t fly, which didn’t occur to me.  But 200 for a flight plus a couple days in a motel and I’m right back to making no money.  I really wasn’t trying to hold them up, I was just being realistic, but they called back a few hours later and said they’d cover the flight and I could stay with them in their apartment and they’d paid me $300.  I told them I didn’t want to be without my car, nor put them out by staying with them so I had to pass.  They then offered me $700.  Although half will be in Applebee’s gift cards. 

Whenever I actually try to negotiate, it’s a disaster.  Whenever I’m just being practical, that’s when it seems like I get offered more money.  I’ve got one show in the Twin Cities on the way and another in Idaho, but otherwise it’s just a straight up 3000 mile road trip. 

I’m in Lowell, MA right now because I met with the biggest and maybe only Bessie Love memorabilia collector.  You know those dudes who at a certain age start looking like someone’s aunt?  He was one of those.  He talked in a quiet moist voice that I found upsetting. 

He spent hours fawning over a bunch of old crap.  I was bored to tears until he opened an old trunk that he said was found in Bessie’s home after her death.  I don’t know how I knew, but I knew that the stuff was magic.  Royale implied that things could be imbued with magic, but I never encountered one before.

Since the stuff wasn’t Bessie’s, I asked him if I could have it.  Rude, I know.  He wasn’t going to part with the gold pocket watch, gold cufflinks, or diamond ring even if they weren’t Bessie’s, but he did give me the old men’s topcoat and an alligator wallet. 

I have no clue what they do but I know they’re magic.  Since I’m in the area, I think I’ll stop and talk to the professor about them before I head into the west.

Jack Johnson VS John Jackson

I saw a results-reviews-opinions blog of the show I worked last night.  Seeing the card in print made something jump out at me:

John Adams vs. Joe Falcone

Pat Joseph vs. Garrison Michael

Andy Trout vs. Claude Jean

Jeremy Spokane vs. Dennis Walters

Billy Chapman vs. William Palmer

Vic Mercado vs. Rory Malone

Alice Hudson vs. Emma Foster

Just looking at those names, is there anything that makes you think this is a wrestling show? It could be a boxing card.  Or a Scrabble tournament.  Or any other thing where two people are against each other.  Even in MMA they have nicknames.  I think we’ve gone too far with the real names trend in wrestling.  Where’s the razzle dazzle?

Amazing Grace isn’t the most flamboyant name ever but it’s better than fucking John Adams.  Now if the guy had a gimmick where he was pretending to be the 2nd president and was wearing a powdered wig and panty hose, that would be something.  But he wasn’t.  By comparison let’s look at an old wrestling card:

Omar Atlas and Danny Littlebear vs. “Nature Boy” Kirby and Black Angus Campbell

The Viking vs. “The Destroyer” Ivan Pulaski

Kentucky Butcher vs. Big Bill Miller

Cry Baby Cannon vs. Apache Bull Ramos

Indian Strap Match – Professor Tanaka vs. Wahoo McDaniel

Klondike Bill vs. Blackjack Mulligan

There’s no mistaking that for anything other than wrestling.

Here’s what the reviewer had to say about my match if interested. 

“The third match of the night sees Babe Ruthless take on Amazing Grace, with Babe instantly on the defensive as her pre-match taunts on the turnbuckle see her vulnerable to an attack from behind for a two count. Amazing Grace pushes the pace with grounded strikes, several kicks and a big back elbow, whilst she is also not afraid to bend the rules by using a choke whilst the two are in the ropes. Babe gets dropped with a big lariat and has had little chance to exert any pressure on her opponent.

That is until she fights her way out of the corner, lands a jumping dropkick and a big spinning sideslam for two. Amazing Grace isn’t down for long, reversing a chokeslam attempt into a submission for a nearfall. However, Babe is able to hit a backbreaker and then a chokeslam into a backcracker moments later for the win. Decent little bit of psychology here with Amazing Grace trying to hit Babe hard and fast to take her out, and I quite enjoyed what I saw of Babe Ruthless, a wrestler I’d never heard of, let alone seen before.”

I hate when people saying jumping dropkick.  There’s no other way to do a dropkick.  Not in wrestling anyway.  Babe Ruthless is kind of a cool name but is that reference too dated?  Does anyone get it?

Annoying emo title here

I used the last of my bare-knuckle fighting money to buy a 2007 Kia Sedona with 200,000 miles on it.  At least it has room to sleep in it.   I keep hoping that Royale’s trunk will show up in the back.  I guess it’s really destroyed.  Along with all his notes and things he wanted me to have.

Despite that loss, I’m glad all that happened is my car got destroyed.  It could have been much worse.  If she had started using her magic to just push the guys in the ring at the right time, she could have really hurt people.  It would be so easy for her to make someone fall and break their neck.   That’s become my nightmare.  I expect to see her face at every show now.   

But she seems content just to taunt me by text.  I wonder if I went to the cops and told them a teenager girl was cyber-bullying me, if they would just shrug or actually laugh in my face.   

I don’t know of a worse feeling than helplessness.  She’s out there, doing bad shit, and what can I do about it?  I looked at some psychology websites.  I didn’t find it very helpful.  Practicing compassionate, healthy self-talk doesn’t seem relevant to my situation.   

I wonder if I told Mr. Petticord about her if he would kill her.  Getting someone else to do it wouldn’t make me not a murderer, but it’s more palatable than doing it myself.  I’m not going to think about it anymore.  Does that make me a coward for not having the grit to go through with it?  Or is not arranging the murder of a child and then looking the other way the right thing to do? 

Can it be both?

At least no one was killed

I was offered a booking in Moline.  I didn’t want to take it because of its proximity to Lyons.  But I shamed myself into saying yes.  What are you going to do?  Avoid the entire state of Illinois because of a teenager?

I should have done just that.  Maybe she would have showed up anyway.  But maybe she was only there because she knew I was going to be there.  She knows things. 

When I drove up to the venue in my shitbox, I saw a 2019 Porsche Panamera in the parking lot.  I knew she was there.  Even so, when I looked out into the crowd and saw her face it froze my blood.  I started to mentally rail at myself for being afraid of a HS girl but I need to get over that. 

It’s not logical to say to yourself that you shouldn’t be afraid of a black widow spider because it’s small.  Its size isn’t what makes it dangerous.  I absolutely should be scared of a teenager with the power she has.  She’s murdered two people.  At least.  She can control people’s minds.  She did terrible things to her own mother.  Being an 80-pound girl doesn’t change that. 

She was there with what seemed like fifty dudes.  How many of them were part of her fellowship of Christian sex murder cult athletes versus how many of them were just assholes who wanted to goof on wrestling, I don’t know.  She was like a queen holding court out there surrounded by her knights in True Religion t-shirt armor. 

I wish I was better at lying.  I tried to think of something to tell the promoter to make him cancel the show.  Even now, days later, I still can’t think of anything good.  I keep coming back to claiming that she’s the daughter of a Triad boss, which is not only stupid and maybe racist, but also not a reason to cancel the show.  I should have called in a bomb threat.  

At first, she and her douche-knights were content to just ruin the show by screaming profanities at whoever was in the ring and throwing shit at them.  There are a lot of fake tough guys in wrestling, but there are some real ones too.  I was surprised that nobody went out and grabbed one of the little fuckers by the throat.  Maybe disappointed.   

What did happen is the fans took matters into their own hands.  A lot of wrestling fans are doughy wheezing beta cucks in Hot Topic t-shirts.  But not all of them.  Several fights broke out in the crowd.  A couple guys there in EVENT windbreakers tried to get involved but things turned ugly fast.   

The promoter told the boys to get out there and “settle” things.  There was a kid there from a local wrestling school, not on the show, that looked like he belonged in a boy band.  He grabbed a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, because that sort of thing is laying around at a wrestling show, and ran out there like he was storming Normandy.   

I saw a video once of a riot at an ECW show.  Fans were fleeing from a chain-swinging Sabu like people running away from Godzilla.  This wasn’t like that.  This was more like the time Ron Artest went into the stands in Detroit.  A lot of people were taking their chance to get in cheap shots.   

My contribution was to summon a bunch of smoke and pull the fire alarm.  Which is what I should have done from the start to scuttle the whole event.  I maintain that the three people that got trampled in the fire panic is fewer injuries than there would have been if I did nothing.   

It was three in the morning by the time Moline PD had cleared out.  When I went outside, I saw that my car had been burned down to the frame.  Around sunup, she texted me a video of herself and a bunch of her jackass friends torching my car. 

I’m looking at you, Ed “Strangler” Lewis

I don’t know if the Scrap Iron Papers are a joke or what they are.  But I’ve often thought that at some point there had to have been a wrestling serial killer.   

It’s the perfect set up for serial killing.  You have a profession where you’re on the road all the time, you’re isolated from society, you’re probably crazy in the first place, and you’re most likely violent.  Plus, back in the olden times wrestlers were criminals.  The stories the old timers tell are all about ripping people off and getting over on them.   

You’re telling me that in the 100-whatever year history of wresting, with the tens of thousands of people that have run through the biz, one of them wasn’t a serial killer?  You’re in a town for one night, you have enough fame that you can attract a victim but not so much that anyone is going to remember you, and the next day you’re hundreds of miles away.  Surely there’s been at least one wrestling serial killer. 

Surely.   

I watched part of a superhero movie where the guy from Sherlock is a wizard.  To do magic he invokes a demon or a god or some kind of entity.  By the Winds of Watoom, by the Denizens of Dahak, by the Goblet of Glip-Glop.  Stuff like that.  To do the really good magic, he takes power from Hell itself.

In this era of outrage I wonder what Marvel would do if I claimed to be offended as an actual practitioner of magic.  Maybe they’d hire me as a magical sensitivity consultant on their next movie.  But probably not.   

Did you ever dance with the devil by the pale moonlight?

I don’t often meet fans.  Probably because I don’t have fans.  Usually my interactions are someone who was at the show sees me at IHOP afterwards and they say something weird about my scars.  It’s good to know that so many douchebags would do me even though I’m “all cut up”.   

A few nights ago, a guy came up to me after a show and gave me some notebooks.  He didn’t know who I was or even like wrestling.  He came to the show specifically to give me the notebooks.   When I asked him why, he said he didn’t want to say.  He kind of looked like Bob Ross. 

They were the “memoirs” of a wrestler called Dennis “Scrap Iron” Ray.  There’s a ton of wrestlers that don’t warrant a Wikipedia page but most of them are at least on wrestling nerd wikis.  I could barely find anything on this guy even on those sites.  All I could learn is that he started wrestling in the mid-60s and disappeared from the scene sometime in the early 80s.   

Most of it is just “I went to this place and did this match”.  I’m realizing now that’s mostly what this blog is as well.  Then there are the parts where he talks about killing werewolves.  If werewolves are realk this guy hated them.  And if this writing is true, he killed a bunch of them.  He has names and dates and places for all his werewolf hunting activities. 

My first assumption was that this guy was crazy.  Second thought was that someone was fucking with me.  I looked up some of the people he claims were werewolves and that he killed.  Most of them I couldn’t find anything on.  Three of them I did find and they’re missing persons.  One of them is an unsolved murder.  

So.  Most likely, someone doctored these books to mess with me.  Which is still very unlikely.  Who would bother?  Second most likely, Scrap Iron was crazy and wrote down people’s names when he heard they disappeared and claimed they were werewolves and he killed them.  Third most likely, he was a serial killer and he killed these people and they aren’t werewolves.  Fourth most likely, there was a wrestling werewolf hunter.   

I’d really like to find Bob Ross and ask him what the hell this is about.  

Also if you’re reading this and are a werewolf or have proof of the existence of werewolves, drop me a line.   

Feel the power!

Last night I worked at the Alliant Energy PowerHouse.  I want to make a joke about it, but I can’t because it’s one of the nicest places I’ve been booked.  They got me a room at the Hilton that’s attached to the venue.  That’s the first time I’ve ever gotten my room paid for as part of the deal.

A guy came out in a purple suit with lightning bolts on it called Powerhouse and did a bit with some of the guys on the show.   Does Alliant Energy sponsor a wrestler?  Seems impossible.  But the outfit fit the guy perfectly.  Did they make the outfit and just hope it would fit one of the guys?  Is it a mascot that just looks like a wrestler?  I have so many questions about Powerhouse.   

In the arena, I saw they had retired the jersey of an indoor football player.  I wonder what that feels like.  Pride tinged with regret because you were really good at the worst level of what you did?  Or is it just happiness that you achieved something?  Or is it a pure slap in the face?   

The professor put me in contact with a guy who collects Bessie Love memorabilia.  He says that he has old letters and a bunch of stuff of hers.  I’m working a show in that general area in a couple weeks so I’m going to go check it out.  I doubt I’ll find anything but there’s no harm in looking.   

Aside from the possibility that the guy is a psycho and he hacks me to bits.   

Caddyshack 3

I worked a show last night at a country club.  That’s a new one for me.  It was some kind of benefit as far as I could tell.  I assume one person on the board is really into wrestling and steamrolled everyone else into doing it.  Country clubs and/or charities have boards right?

There were a bunch of rich people in gowns and tuxedos walking around from table to table not paying attention to the wrestling ring in the middle of the room where wrestling was happening.  It was surreal.  It was like an even more boring version of eyes wide shut.

Because it was a country club, there was a real dressing room.  Which was fantastic.  No changing in the car that night.   When I was walking back after my match, I heard a woman say to her peer, “poor people take things so personally”.  I heard a real human person say that in real life.  With her mouth.

That’s something that a cartoon villain would say while a dog bouncer is throwing a scrappy alley cat out of a fancy party.  That’s not something a person would say. 

Even when I’m around “normal” people, I often feel like I’m missing most of what they’re talking about.  I wonder if I ever talked to a rich person if we would even be able to communicate.  I think maybe if a spaceship came down and an alien walked out, I might have more in common with them than with the people at that show. 

Is it still a show if no one watches?  A question for the ages.