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5/12/05 (Last) Stand on Zanzibar
Hey Well, Bill's all shot up (got my last boosters last week) and visa'd up, and ready to invade the Dark fucking Continent (still got to get a script for malarone, the anti-malaria pills, should be able to get one at Health Plus according to Mike, one of he guys going on the trip). This trip should be a hell of a lot of damn fun, I get to make my legit (that means I keep my pants on) acting debut, and I am so much about that it's not even funny, some of it opposite one of Danny's friends, who according to him is one of the most famous actresses in Tanzania, which is very cool- I don't know how famous that actually makes her, but so what- then off on a six day safari out onto the Serengeti, where we'll be checking out, among other things, Ngorgoro Crater, and Olduvai Gorge (I'll see if I can find some fossils to bring back, or for you Creationists, some of whatever you think that stuff is), and some lake I forget the name of, where I hope to borrow a rifle from one of our guides and blow the brains out of at least one crocodile, hopefully a damn big one. The script- MY script- for the DF scenes in Africa are already written (unlike the Prague semi-debacle) and have passed muster with Mr. Boyd, in fact he was very complementary, he said one scene in particular was very "touching". Okay. And while I'm willing to admit the DF's origin bears some resemblance to that of a certain great white ape, I see it as homage, not plagiarism. At least it's not an homage to Congo Bill, that'd suck ferociously. (YEAH. ESPECIALLY SINCE THAT'D MAKE ME CONGORILLA), Exactly. I've been working some with Ritchie, getting him to help with me the translation of some of the dialog into K'Swahili, which is what they speak in Tanzania (what's the difference between Swahili and K'Swahili? Beats the fuck outta me, bwana), it's been going like this- B: Okay, translate, "I'm gonna stomp your mother fucking head into
library paste, you goddamn piece of shit." I leave Monday morning (the 16th) to fly to Dulles, to fly to Amsterdam (8 hour flight) to then fly to Dar es Salaam (10:30 hour flight). I can't fucking wait (not the plane rides, those I'm dreading, but the trip itself). I'll be back at Yeager at 8:35 pm May 31st for those of you wanting to be there to throw streamers at me or whatever. So, what's been up with Bill lately? The site continues to draw a lot of responses, like I've said previously, I don't know if it's the hot weather or what, you'd think people'd be out doing fun stuff instead of sitting in front of the computer, but as we all know, Bill can't figure people, especially women, especially good looking women that he's attracted to, so- lotta comments on the match photos in last issue, from awesome, to funky (funky? is that good funky, or bad funky?) to obscene, which I think is a bit much. I think the thing that disturbs most people about them- and even people who liked them, like Danny, said they found them disturbing- is the expression on Unholy's face. This isn't some guy who's selling a fake punch to the tater, this is a guy who's genuinely hurt, and you can see it. I stopped by to see him a couple days after the match, cos I was honestly concerned about him- small fucking world, he lives in the same house Joe and Laura did from '80 till '84, he opens the door and I blurt, "I've had sex in your shower"- Loretta and I spent the night with Joe and Laura for some reason, back in the day, and ended up getting it on in the shower, have I ever mentioned I MISS THOSE DAYS- and he looked like he'd not only been hit by a bus, but dragged behind it. His chest was all stippled with tack holes, his eyes were black and his nose all swollen and purple, his lower lip all puffed out, and those nasty, nasty lacerations on his forehead- he really should have gotten them stitched- were seeping yellow/clear serum. He looked like something from Dawn of the Dead. I wish I'd gotten a picture. He was in great spirits, kept thanking me for the match, Jesus, dude, whatever. Next time I'll kill ya, make you really happy. Speaking of blood, I saw this in the newspaper a while back and was actually going to mention it then, cos it just flat boggled my mind, but then by the time I next got around to doing a newsletter I'd forgotten the guy's name, but then I saw it on the wall of Allegra's cubicle the other day when I was up at ZMM (some people have to go there every day, ha), I never made the connection with the name, but her dad Clarence "The Human Pincushion" Plumley has donated an incredible 41 gallons of blood- which she says is now up to around 43. Dear Lord. Makes my piddling 4 gallons seem like a drop in the blood ocean (Lets Surf The River of Blood, great song, great title). I'm fucking impressed, Clarence, keep up the good damn work. And before we leave correspondence, I got a pissy e-mail from someone I actually know, not some anonymous reader, who sussed out what the solicitation for people to stick needles in my ass was all about (yeah, and how hard was that for you to figure out, like you're a fucking genius or something?), here's how I see it, call it cheating (and all the other nasty things you called it) that you want, the bottom line is that it's not going to be the drugs lifting the weights, I'M LIFTING THE FUCKING WEIGHTS. Let me say that again, I'm still the one lifting the fucking weights. So fuck you. No, wait, did I say, fuck you? I meant, FUCK YOU. People been complaining about no funny Bill's Dad stories in a long time, well, he hasn't been funny in a long time. This past winter took a lot out of both my parents, aged them quite a bit, internally, anyway. My Dad's finally starting to act old, he just doesn't have that spark anymore that he's had all my life. It makes me really sad, but I don’t know what can be done about it until Joe finally builds me that damn time machine. My Dad has started his crazy cooking stuff again, so he is feeling some better. I stop by the other morning and he's already pulling some goop out of the refrigerator- Dad: Try this. A couple days later he offers me some Fiery Taco Bake. B: I'm not liking that "fiery" part. He starts looking all mad and hurt, Jesus- B: All right. One bite. That's about as funny as it gets these days. I did have some good eats at Joe and Laura's last week, she made some cauliflower soup from a recipe of Rachael Ray's, it was excellent, ditto the sun dried tomato bread she baked to go with it. Took Al to the doctor today, the bad news is he's gonna live. Oh, lighten up, I'm just kidding. Actually, Al's been pretty good lately, just in time for me to leave and fuck him up again, by messing with his schedule. I wish I'd been there the night week before last when somehow (or so he says) a squirrel got into his bedroom. Al was quite animated in telling the story, "The little bastard got in my closet, climbed all up in my clothes, I got him out of there and he went under the bed, I got him out of there and he went back in the damn closet" and on and on, Al chasing this fucking squirrel around and around his bedroom- "I didn't want to leave him in here, what if he wanted to jump up in the bed with me, you ever see the teeth on those things?" "Oh yeah, Al, they're fucking killers" I'm in tears just hearing him tell about it, I'd have probably laughed myself into a hernia actually seeing it. He says he finally got it out by taking the bedroom window out of its frame and setting it down on the floor like a ramp, and then eventually herding the squirrel up it and back out of the window. It may have been a damn hallucination, but if so it was a very detailed one that he recounts consistently, so I'm more inclined to believe it really happened, unlike the golden glowing people who used to screw all night on the rooftop across the way a couple years ago and drive poor Al to total distraction. What's Bill been watching? Not a lot. The suck ass Cubs some, but I can't really get into baseball this season for some reason. I'm getting IFC now, which is good, I can watch the Zatoichi films if I want, but they won't be the same as as Movie Club, I watched a documentary on John Waters the other day that wasn't bad, he's interesting just cos he's so fucking weird, but his movies have always pretty much left me cold, Divine's really eating dog shit, okay, big deal, you didn't grow up with Stevie "The Geek" Schultz (no relation to our boy Chris, I'm sure). Speaking of, I hope he- Chris, not Stevie, who I'm fairly certain must've died young- was able to record the Frazetta documentary on IFC that I had to miss cos of stupid wrestling. Also watched Running Time, which is a pretty bland and nothing kind of title, I think it's so called cos it's all one shot- the movie starts and that's it, there are no cuts at all until it ends. It's this heist caper type film, in black and white and from '97, it has Bruce Campbell, who I like, but who will pretty much act in any damn thing, this was good, but cut out all the Sci-fi channel dreck for me if you would, Bruce, and some girl- Amanda, or Anita, it was one of those double A names I think, maybe Angela- Barone, who was hot, again, real woman hot, not Pam Anderson cartoon hot, she was cute, and built fucking great. If you get IFC, check it out. What's Bill been reading? Again, not much (what HAVE I been doing lately, come to think of it?). I did read one of Sarah's books on Celtic mythology she ordered when she was in for Spring break, all those old myth cycles are 90% sex and gore so of course they're fun reading. I came across this legend I was unfamiliar with, this minor god Gwydion had this pal, who also started with a "G" but I can’t remember, we'll call him Gus, who was all hot for this one Celtic princess who didn't want anything to do with him. Gwydion, through raw deceit and treachery, sets up a war between this girl's kingdom and a neighboring one, then while all these good guy warriors on both sides are out fighting and killing one another cos of this sneaky bastard, there's no one left at princess's house to protect her when Gus comes by to take her by force. Nasty fucking pair, Gus and his buddy. This higher up god, Math (insert your own joke here about higher Math) finds out and calls the wretched duo in front of him to punish them. He tells them, not quite in these words, "Since you're both so damn sexed up, you can just go off and fuck yourselves" and he turns Gwydion into a stag and Gus into a doe and sends them off into the woods, saying come back in a year. They come back in a year (along with a fawn, how fucking funny) and Math says, "Nah, not yet" and turns Gus into a boar, and Gwydion into a sow. They come back a year later (yeah, with a litter of piglets, I'm howling here) and Math says, "Nah, still not yet", and off they go again, one a male wolf and one a wolf bitch. When they come back a year later with all their wolf cubs they’re pretty much gibbering idiots, "Fuck, just KILL US, please" and Math says, "I hope you've learned your fucking lesson". I should think so. Irish justice, got ya. Anyone who caught this issue's title reference to the old SF novel by John Brunner, Stand On Zanzibar (which I'll be doing in a couple weeks), give yourself two bonus points. It came out in '68, I read it a few years later while still in junior high, and I couldn't make heads or tails of it, I'd like to try and read it again as an adult and see what I get out of it. I liked Brunner's more straight forward stuff, like the very good The Sheep Look Up, or his early, very Brit SF/horror novel The Atlantic Abomination (I think the DF worked him once), the old paperback version that I had, had a killer cover. When I started reading SF as a kid I always preferred the straight forward stuff, to the experimental "New Wave" SF that was coming into vogue at that time (late 60's), at that age it was gimme vintage Heinlein (he was going all new wavey himself at the time with Stranger In A Strange Land, et al) and Starship Troopers, goofy ass politics and all, I was (and am) willing to forgive a lot if you're going to tell me this tremendously exciting tale of guys in way cool futuristic battle armor fighting big ass monster bugs. Great shit. In fact, my main problem with the '97 movie was that great, great armor that the ST's wore in the book was totally done away with. Fuck that. Sarah was telling me last week about this exercise she had to do in one of her acting classes, where you talked about your home, and she talked about this place, which I think is pretty sad on a couple levels, one that this double wide out in the sticks that she visits for maybe a month and a half total during the year is what she considers to be her home, and the fact that this place doesn't seem in the slightest like home to me, and hasn't for a very long time. And boy, I can tell you, one thing I haven't been doing lately is keeping the place up, I used to kind of take pride in the place, but anymore I don’t give even one tiny fuck. I remember last fall when Anita and Impetuous (and of course, Mr. Peanut) came out here, they commented that this was the tidiest bachelor's place they'd ever seen. Well, I was admittedly trying to impress them (much good did it do me) but I did used to keep this place up pretty well, if they could see it tonight they'd probably go, "Jesus Christ, the man is a fucking pig." Which I imagine they've said anyway, unrelated to my housekeeping skills. And this house has also been stinking lately, of sweat (I really am working out hard again) and stale beer. Fuck. What's Bill drinking? Just green tea. I really wanted to get into the beer tonight, mostly so I could sleep, but I just got too much to do tomorrow to give up the day to a hangover. I don't function well on no sleep, but I don't function at all anymore when I'm hungover. I think attrition is finally catching up to even a freak of fucking nature like our boy Bill here. Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm a lying sack of shit. I did start out drinking green tea, hours ago, but I've been on the PBR for a while now, ten's worth so far, and they're going down fast, so tomorrow will just have to be however tomorrow is. Tomorrow never comes, anyway. Just like- no, nevermind. I haven't gotten into it much lately, cos we've gone down this path in the newsletter many times before, but the insomnia is once again back and kicking my ass (as it always does), I haven't slept well at all, unless I'm pounded or exhausted, for months now. Been having lots of bad dreams again when I do sleep, lots of zombie dreams, I guess because I've been writing so much about them recently, Sarah had a nightmare about her Daddy tangling with zombies in Africa, she made me promise to take Ritchie's advice and avoid them while I'm over there at all cost. Okay, I'll try to avoid them, but if one starts something with ME, all fucking bets are off . . . Some time back I made note that Pistol Pez Whatley was in bad shape, and in need of a heart transplant. I guess he didn't get it, cos he passed away back in January. He real name was Pezavan Whatley. How you could be holding a baby in your arms and the first thing that comes into your head is, "I'm going to name this child Pezavan" is beyond me. But he was a nice guy, and now he's gone, so RIP Pezavan. I guess it's about time to get to the wrestling portion of our program, I suppose the biggest news is that the Death Falcon finally got his new mask. It has a much more classic Lucha look than the old one, no antennae or saw blades or tails hanging down the back. At first I wasn't so sure about it, looks wise, but watching film of the DF in action last Saturday in Martinsburg, I like it, it has that clean, El Santo hero look to it, and the strangest thing, Danny said, "I know it doesn’t make sense, but you look younger in that mask than in the other one, somehow" which is so weird, cos I was thinking the same thing. As for how it feels, it's hot and tight, which is normally a very good thing, but not in masks, it's going to be a bitch to work in this summer, (in fucking deed, the DF already has 16 bookings this June through August, not counting whatever might come in between now and then), I think I'm going to continue to wear the old one in XMCW, and the new one in the new feds I'll be working, like MSW, where the DF made his debut a couple weeks ago, and where he's working again this coming Saturday, in Mount Hope, and of course House of Pain, where Danny and I worked last week. "If you can't hack it, better get your jacket" House of Pain Wrestling Federation motto. "I can hack it. Why don't you fucking jack it?" Death Falcon Zero. So, on to Danny and Billy's adventures in Martinsburg. As mentioned last issue, I was a little concerned about the whole trip, Danny and I have a tendency to bicker anyway, I could just see us sniping at one another all weekend, nothing of the sort happened, we had a real good time together, good for us. We stayed with his Dad, who I already knew, I met his sister and a bunch of his Martinsburg friends, good people, drank a bunch of beer Saturday after the match, it was fun.
And Rachie got an "A" on her French test last week, good for you, baby, no coasting through life on just good looks for you. Although if you can make that work for you . . . Danny was a little nervous driving up, he'd talked to Rambo (he runs the Fed, as well as being a worker) the night before, who'd told him, "Yeah, I don't know how you guys work down there, but up here we like to make it look real. We're not called House of Pain for nothing". He'd also told Danny, "I think I'll have your boy Falcon work Samu". This is genuine wrestling star Samu, been everywhere, including three times as WWF Tag Team Champ, this guy is big time, and big, 350 pounds legit, so I'm nervous as well. Although the Death Falcon, that crazy bastard, is excited as hell, he's screaming "bring that big fucker on, I got your fucking big time RIGHT HERE". We get to the Armory and find out Samu has hurt his back and can't work the DF- (LUCKY FOR HIM. I THINK HIS BIG ASS WAS JUST DUCKING ME)
We meet our opponents for the night, Nicholas Tide, and the Croc Tamer, Savannah Jack. A couple of freaks and geeks, as Kevin Sullivan would say. Tide used to be this big, Randy Savage looking guy, been gone from wrestling about a year and a half and has only been back a few months, while gone he lost about 50 pounds of muscle, which he still talks and acts like he's got, and which attitude in the back got him stiffed pretty good by the DF in the ring. Sarah took a good picture of him getting knocked on his ass, when Danny sends it to me I'll have Joe put it on the site. Now he looks like Butch, the kid who always used to beat up Alfalfa on the Little Rascals, even down to the stupid hat. We try and talk through the match, I tell them Danny can run the Universal spot, Savannah gives me this blank look, Tide goes "What's that?" You know, the Universal spot, so called because EVERYONE knows it? Shoot off, shoulder tackle, drop down, hip toss? Savannah still looks blank (it's a look I would get used to), Tide goes, "Oh yeah. Of course, I've never done 'em in that order before". Danny and I exchange "Oh, for fuck's sake" looks. These guys would last about three seconds in WV.
I ask them if they know Tag Match Number 1, which of course they've never heard of, but we set it up anyway cos it's easy to remember. This is how it goes, in case you ever have to do a tag match with 3 other guys who don't know anything. Face 1 (DF) starts with Heel 2 (SJ). Face 1 starts on top (which means he beats the shit out of SJ, though I didn't phrase it that way), then tags out to Face 2 (Danny) who also beats the shit out of Heel 2. Heel 2 then cuts Face 2 off with an illegal move (in this case, a low blow) and tags out to Heel 1, who then beats the shit out of Face 2. Face 2 then takes all the heat from both Heels as they tag in and out. Danny; I don't think I like that part. During the heat you work one Face hope spot and cut off, and one false tag (which the crowd bites on every time, I love it), before the hot tag, when Face 1 comes back in and beats the shit out of both Heels. D: Wait a minute. How come you get to beat the shit out of
everyone, and I get the shit beaten out of me? Then you go to your finish, which in this case is, the Heels cut us off, take us to opposite corners, go to shoot us off, we reverse it and the Heels collide in center ring in what's quaintly referred to as a train wreck (and the crowd popped like hell for this, we had a great fucking audience Saturday night, they were way into our match), then as Danny and I climb the ropes to work the crowd Samu comes into the ring with a baseball bat to attack us from behind (fuck, I already HATE being a face), he first clocks the ref (who was another genuine fucking moron), then as he's about to hit us Rambo charges the ring and takes the bat away from him, a second, dirty ref comes out and sees Rambo with the bat and disqualifies the Grapes of Wrath for outside interference. Man. The DF has been in on a ton of screw job finishes, but this is the first time he was on the screwed end. I don't like it. And I'm truly going to have to work on my face attitude, I still do all the heel moves and gestures, at one point this old man in the front row hollers "Aren't you supposed to be the good guys?" (he had a valid point) and I was a split second away from flipping him off when I caught myself. There are advantages to working face, though, all the kids coming up to the DF at the gimmick table wanting autographs, I have to admit I love that, sincerely. Kid: Thanks for the autograph. And for all that House of Pain crap, when I can get away from the table and go in the back to thank Tide and SJ for the match, a wrestling tradition, and a very civilized one I think, the first thing SJ does is run up to me and go "Man, I'm really sorry for making you mad out there". DF: You didn't make me mad. We're totally cool, I had fun.
(OR ME). -yeah, or the DF, and they'd be pissing their pants. We got your house of pain right here. But we're going back, and get this, this is fucking INSANE. Me, Danny and Rambo are working Samu, Tide, and the crooked ref, I forget his name, cos SJ's religious beliefs won't let him work this show, for real, on June 16th at Legs (ahem) Gentleman's Club. Yeah, holy fuck, they're calling it their "Adult Show" and they're having it at a fucking strip club, they're going to have strippers come out between the matches, what a concept, Ron Jeremy is going to be there (yick) and they're also going to be filming a "Girls Gone Wicked"- I guess that's one step up (or down) from "Girl's Gone Wild"-video there that night. Robin is really not wanting Danny to do it, and she's definitely not wanting to do it herself- she's supposed to start managing the Grapes, in fact I think she may be coming out with the DF this Saturday in Mount Hope- but like Danny keeps telling her, "It going to be a fucking freak show, how can you miss that?". I'm certainly not going to miss it. Wrestling in a fucking strip club. The DF is going to be in pig fucking heaven. (YEAH BOY. I BET I'LL BE SORE AS HELL THE NEXT MORNING, AND NOT FROM THE MATCH) Yeah, well it might be from the match, Samu is a big old boy, I imagine he's pretty stiff without even trying, also, its going to be a barbed wire match- and here I am trying to get out of Hardcore- where the ropes and turnbuckles are all wrapped in the stuff. I already told Danny I'd make him a gig cos I'm sure there's no way we're getting out of this without juicing, it's best we do it to ourselves. I don’t know about you, but I can do without some 350 pound Samoan trying to rip holes in MY ass with some no doubt dull and rusty barbed wire. Danny was really up right after the match Saturday, but the next day he was hurting some. D: Man, I'm sort of feeling it this morning. Let me go on record here though as saying Danny acquitted himself admirably, I was really concerned cos he hasn't been doing all that well at training, I tried to tell him I didn't think he was ready but he wouldn't listen, I honestly thought Saturday was going to be a case of his mouth running away with his ass, and he was going to get hurt- not killed hurt, but beat up hurt- or at least embarrassed in front of his home town crowd. But he did really well, he hit all his spots, took all his bumps, and came out of the whole thing looking really good. So, once again, what the fuck do I know? I think I'll close with what I thought was an amusing story related to me in Martinsburg by Blood. He's one of Wes's trainers at EWA, and seems to be quite a personable guy for someone calling himself Blood. He's been good to Sarah when she's accompanied Wes to training, and that carries a lot of weight with me. He works mostly Hardcore, and we were exchanging Hardcore horror stories, when he parts his hair and shows me this truly wicked scar running almost the length of his scalp, front to back, I mean this thing is Abdullah worthy. He tells me he was working this guy one night, they're doing a barbed wire bat spot outside the ring, and Blood tells the guy "Rake my head". The guy rears back and just smashes Blood in the head with the bat, lays him out absolutely cold. When he's revived in the back Blood's just raging at the guy, "What the fuck's wrong with you, I said 'Rake my head'" and the guy goes "Oh. I thought you said 'Break my head'". Pro wrestling. Ya gotta love it. I'm gonna go, wish me luck in Africa. And wish Africa luck with me, seriously. You don't know Break my head. Jesus. Later. Bill 
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You don't know 
First thing's first, Sarah's new wrestler boyfriend, Wes, drove the
girls up to Martinsburg so I got to spend a very nice evening with my
sweetie pies, it was great, thank you to Wes, who seems like a good
kid, he worked in the battle royal but since I was at the gimmick
table in my mask and no glasses, I couldn't tell you how he did. Danny
liked him, and Sarah took a picture of him meeting the DF that's on
the site. 
Whatever. You're gonna get your chance, big boy, just wait. Anyway,
Samu is going to come out and start some heat with me and Danny at the
gimmick table- he kept calling us Hollywood, and movie stars, hell, I
wasn't offended in the slightest, I was eating it up- then bring a
couple heels out from the back that he'd manage against us, Rambo
would then come out to manage Danny and me and we'd work a tag match.
So I ask them what they can do. SJ says, "Not much, I'm still
green". No shit. Tide goes, "Uhm, choke, choke . . . something else .
. . choke". Great. At least he can do something. 
Jeez. House of Pain my fucking eye. I didn't see very much stiff
work at all in any other matches- which were also mostly P & K, not a
lot of actual wrestling- and neither did Danny or the girls, let those
boys come down here and get in the ring with someone like Chance or
Juggs-