As hard as I try to look back on my childhood with glee, I just get a mental picture of a retarded blond boy falling down everywhere and generally making a fool of himself everytime I think of myself. I wasn’t just an idiot – I seemed to be completely unteachable. I would get jumped by neighborhood kids, get some rocks thrown at my face for good measure……and, sure as fuck, it would happen again.

I can’t use a knife and fork properly. I can’t seem to make myself believe that everyone isn’t watching me eat. I can’t can’t CAN’T stand it when people crack jokes about me (I know we spend half the night making fun of Mr. Can-aa-da, but this is me we’re talking about now).

Ladies and gentlemen, Mike Awesome is in the building. What can I say, I was sucked in by the hype and impressed by the execution. It’s one of those surreal moments that ONLY happens in professional wrestling. Felt like one of those comic books where fucking Loki or the Red Skull shows up to fight Spider Man, and it’s a total shock crossover, worlds colliding. For that one moment it worked. Awesome then proceeded to smash a crutch over Nash’s body and flicked off the audience while the announcers sputtered on about how he had an ECW title defense on Thursday. Awesome, rocking the lustrous Bon Jovi mullet WITH fanny pack, and somehow pulling off the look, picked up the mic and…

But Awesome put on a great match without relying on splintering wood for their shock-value cheers. That is a mark of a true champion in ECW, when they can impress the increasingly blood-thirsty Mongol hordes with a match NOT involving blood, tables, or violence against women.

Talk about contrived bullshit! Am I supposed to just sit back and believe that Carlos Santana, without the help of his publicists and record label, has become the hottest thing since All-Nighter Diarrhea in merely a few weeks?

Flash Fictions :: Everything Comes in Threes :: Monday, April 10th, 2000

Flash Fictions :: Suburban :: Monday, April 10th, 2000

Archikulture Digest :: Number 5: Late April, 2000 :: Monday, April 10th, 2000

Matthew Damascus takes a break from normal continuity to discuss a ho-hum Wrestlemania 2000.

“Similarly, the technology is limited to Abe’s jaw opening and closing in an arhythmic manner. Milli Vanilli it ain’t, and I went ahead and passed on a similar opportunity to invoke the presence of FDR later in the exhibit.”

Dark’s Corner :: Death And Re-Birth - April 3rd, 2000 :: Monday, April 3rd, 2000

Archikulture Digest :: Number 4: April, 2000 :: Tuesday, March 28th, 2000

Inconvenience Store :: TECH REVIEW: El Cheapo Long Distance Phone Rates :: Tuesday, March 28th, 2000

Dark’s Corner :: Monday - March 20th, 2000 :: Friday, March 24th, 2000

And I’m straying from my original point, which is simply that, there are sites out there that have graphic depictions of ‘a lucky fan’ having a saucy/randy/raunchy threesome (preceded or followed by meaningful conversation and cuddling, mind you) with the Boyz that would make any tried-and-true indie wrestling fan faint dead away…

For a masochist like myself, living in such a sunny climate might be the end of me…..I would start preaching on street-corners, and recruiting young girls to become my henchmen, my right-hand….well, not men, I guess……right-hand girls, yeah, girls…..my right-hand girls in the most ingenious plans ever laid out!

One of the editors seemed to disagree. Thinking that I had deserted ship, he dreamed up the most horrid, painful disgusting punishment ever inflicted upon a living human being. He put Morrissey on my page.

Ditch this gimmick like the plague. It’s fucking bad, trailer park, crazy uncle, kind of shit. The snot rag doesn’t make sense. The gesture in itself is not particularly vile or sinister, it’s more bizarre like that kid who ate paste and boogers in second grade. AND RAVEN IS NO PASTE EATER!

Inconvenience Store :: BOOK REVIEW: Find It Online :: Tuesday, March 14th, 2000

Flash Fictions :: Witchcraft. :: Tuesday, March 14th, 2000