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8/27/07 The Future Is My Enemy
Hey Back again, been sticking to the every other Sunday schedule for four issues now, not sure how much longer that's going to last, consistency being the gobbler of little minds, or something like that, but here's another one tonight and that's all that matters (cos tomorrow is no fucking guarantee for any of us, particularly not for self destructive manic depressive assholes with a serious drinking problem and a belly full of I don't give a fuck, believe it). And on that cheery note, I'm in the king, excuse me, The Fucking King, no, not even that, THE FUCKING KING of evil moods tonight, even for Blil. Part of this piss ass moodiness is, I'm sure, down to my hangover this issue which makes the brain cracker from last issue look like- I don't know, something really small and insignificant, my brain's not working good at all right now, how about it makes it look like Bill's fucking use for this world (and its use for him). I've been feeling a real liver destroying binge coming on for a while now, and it hit like the fucking Hulk this week, big and green and painful, been basically drunk since I came home from Al's on Wednesday, don't know how many beers that's been exactly- let's check, shall we?- okay, there are six empty Rolling Rock twelve packs piled up here around my desk, plus the remains of one I haven't finished (yet)- I buy 'em hot, keep them down here, take them up to the freezer in the wash room one level up (this is a four level house, my Mom rarely descends to the lower two, which is where I mostly stay when I'm not at her mumble fuck beck and call) usually six at a time, much like when I lived with Loretta and drank my beer hot in the garage so I wouldn't have to listen to her bitch about how much I drank ("You're killing yourself", yeah, like you EVER fucking gave a shit, all I ever was to her was a means to an end) 1988 is now 2007, Loretta is now my Mom, the garage (which was in my own house at least) has become the rec room in my mother's house, I no longer having a house, or a wife for that matter, to call my own, and Bill hasn't changed his behavior or situation for the better even one tiny, tiny bit. I'm actually knd of embarrassed now that I've counted, that's only seventy some beers, that's NOTHING to show for four days of hard drinking, fuck, now I'm even losing my touch at that. It's getting bad. Most mornings of my life, even during the really ugly times, I'd still wake up in the mood to invade Poland, or attack the Fantastic Four (that's a good thing, by the way, anger and aggression will get you through things rational thought doesn't stand a chance at), but any more, I don't know if it's this rat in a barrel life I've been living the past few years taking its toll, or fifty years of self indulgence finally catching up with me, but I wake up now with a complete lack of energy and focus that's gettng scary even to a give a shit fuck like me, my goal anymore on any given day is to simply get through it without deliberately driving off a fucking cliff. And you know, my life is such that even when I get EXACTLY what I ask for, to the point where I wanted to ask this person, "Are you reading my mind and then saying what's in my head?", it turns out to be somethng I really, really didn't want after all. I say fuck me a lot in here, but this time I mean it with all my decayed and withered heart- fuck me, for true. FUCK ME. How in the world are you gonna see? Exactly, and you know, enough of this crybaby crabola, let's get to the mail bag. It remains pretty quiet, maybe I should try being funnier and less morose and self pitying, that might get more response, but really, this whole project was birthed all those years ago by that unholy trinity of loneliness, alienation, and ennui- (I PREFER WHISKEY, BEER AND CIGARS). No women? (THEY'RE AN UNHOLY TRINITY UNTO THEMSELVES. GET IT? SEE, IT'S COS THEY'VE GOT THREE HO-)
(EASILY TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF?) That's not how I see it. Anyway, putting the NL on the site is something he does out of the goodness of his heart, so when he gets it up is when he gets it up. Live with it. Don't want to talk about Al or my Mom this issue, I'm already depressed enough, I'm sure spending so much of my time with two very sick, very needy old people has a lot to do with my current condition of brain crush. So, what has Bill been up to other than caring for their weary, wearing asses? Sarah and I went down to Jean and Tad's Friday before last for dinner (some great Mexican) and some beer (a couple Shiner Bock, a couple Rolling Rock), but mostly to discuss the specifics of our upcoming trip to Colorado, I'm going out in October (9th-18th) with J&T and their son Joe, Tad and Joe are going to hunt elk, I'm going to hunt Sasquatch with a switch, also fish, enjoy the wilderness- we're going way the fuck to the western edge of the state, past Denver, past Vail, past all that shit- gonna love the fuck out of being somewhere else besides here, and hopefully, just fucking relax. Can't wait. I also changed my mind and am now going to Belize in January, I was taken a bit aback when Danny's feelings were genuinely hurt when I told him I had no taste for the fucking turista mob he'd recruited and would be taking a pass (as well as taking the piss) this go round, but like he explained to me, number one, by his taking these people along my cost would be reduced by $600, also, this isn't one of those trips where everyone gets on the same tour bus together to go see the "sights", once down there I can pretty much go my own way, so that's cool, and some fun in the Central American sun right after Christmas sounds like a good idea, fishing and snorkeling and getting a good mid-winter beach tan (and probably getting cursed in the Mayan ruins, the way I run my mouth- hey, if you fuckers were so great and civilized and shit how come you got wiped the fuck out by a bunch of second rate white folks like the Spanish, seriously, be glad you never met the fucking GERMANS- Danny says we'll check out, just me and him, maybe even piss over the border into Guatemala for an afternoon), all while throwing back the tequila with one hand and feeling up some big titted senorita with the other.
Could be. But I promise you, the sign underneath will read "The Baddest Motherfucker In Belize". (YOU MAKE ME HOT WHEN YOU TALK LIKE THAT) As for them other globetrotting Bitners (feel free to play "Sweet Georgia Brown" in your head while you read this part), Rachel took some great photos on her trip, some of which will be in this issue onsite (when? you weren't listenig earlier, were you?) including photographic proof that them crazy Europeans named not just a busline, but a palace, after her own dear father. You gotta love 'em. Except when they're like, destroyng the Mayan civilization and shit. And Sarah departs for London, leavin' on runway Number 9, next Friday the 31st, everybody think good safe thoughts about my baby, please, although I know she's going to have the time of her life, literally. I mean think about it, really, going to college in fucking ENGLAND. That's Daddy's girl. Just please, please, DON'T BEHAVE like Daddy.
Exactly. We had a going away party for her- and a "good to see you again for a day" party for Rachie- last Saturday at Joe and Laura's (again, see, that's the kind of nice stuff they do- although Joe, being the bizarro world type host he is, as soon as everybody showed up, got into the HMS Death Falcon Zero Rules etc. and sailed off into the sunset . . . bye Joe! Thanks for the party! Later he came back and gave some other folks sailboat rides, I guess cos he doesn't have a pony). I wasn't really in the mood for a party, a lot of other folks said later that they weren't either but they showed up out of a sense of duty and, go figure, it turned out that everyone had an EXCELLENT time, got all buzzed up on drink and cigars and amazingly good vibes, Chirs and Doug continue to bring good cigars to these affairs, for which I sincerely thank them, I try to do my part by smoking them and getting even lighter in the head, everyone got all "I love you" mushy, some of us more than others (ahem) and you know, isn't it funny how getting happy drunk will so often turn women into lesbians? Not the first time I've seen this, and I sure as fuck hope it's not the last. What in the world you thinking of? Well, it ain't love, and I'm not laughing. Amazingly, this Nikki thing may turn into more than just another one and done. I was very unexpectedly impressed when we went out for drinks a few weeks ago, she's tons brighter than I'd thouight, has much more on the ball, has an actual good job and aspirations beyond where she's at right now, why she wants to be a small town wrestling groupie is beyond me, truly, but whatever. I've talked to her on the phone a couple times since then (which as those of you who know me recognize is something I simply never do) and am actually starting to like her for herself and not cos she's a potential fun night for DFZ. Not a good sign at all considering givng a shit about anything is always a mistake when you're Bill cos all it ever does is fuck things up. In a similar vein, I filmed the rest of my scenes for Johnny Boy as scheduled, I thought it all went quite well, the guys in charge were of the same opinion, just like last year on 16 to Life (still no idea when it's coming out, you people will know as soon as I do, trust me, but I think part of the reason for the delay is that Chi [producer] had a kid last spring, and Mandy [writer/director] got married around the same time, and I don't think finishing this film is a priority for either of them anymore) there was a cutie pie, Valerie, down from the film school at Ohio U. helping out with the filming before she heads home to New Mexico for more grad school, she and I hit it off from the start, she'd already watched the stuff I'd shot earlier and was a fan, and any fan of mine . . . well, you know, anyway, during one scene we shot the other day I'm supposed to pass a note to Johnny Boy so she hands me this piece of notebook paper to use, I think it's just a blank prop but she tells me, "Keep this", I'm thinking, "Okay . . . ", after the scene I unfold it, its got her name, Valerie Vasher (BB & VV, I can see it carved on a tree trunk now), her home and e-mail address- in New Mexico, for fucks sake, I mean thanks, but Jesus, I don't even make it up to Mannington to see that last girl that gave me me her number- her home and cell phone numbers, her measurements- 36-24-36, C cup- and her favorite Chinese dish- sweet and sour pork, I got all the sour pork she can handle, she's gonna have to look elsewhere for the sweet. During a break I borrowed Seth's (Johnny Boy) cell phone and went to another room and called hers, the number she'd given me was legit, I asked her (politely and discretely) what was up with the note, we'd already established that we couldn't get together for a drink or whatever later in the week cos this was Thursday, I had plans with Jean and Tad on Friday and she was flying out on Saturday, she was like "You said you were going out West this fall, I thought maybe you could stop by and see me and take me to dinner". Like "out West" is just one big 'hood or something. Still, that's a very nice thought, sincerely- but why do I need her (damn fine) measurements to take her out to dinner? (I KNOW WHY). I do too. I might not just stop in, but she said she'd love to cast me in her first film (I know, we've all heard that one before- about me, I mean) which she hopes to shoot in the Spring, I told her if she cast me I'd come to NM to work for her, and I mean it, I like acting a LOT, I also told her to keep in touch, which she's doing, she writes a very engagng and entertaining e-mail, but I'm not doing that e-mail "we'll start as friends and end up romantically involved to no good end" shit ever again, so I'm being pleasant in my replies, but distant. Once savaged, forever shy. What's Bill been reading? Some more graphic novels from the library, some more Ultimate Spiderman (there's over twenty volumes of the fuckers) and an Ultimate Iron Man, not as ghastly as I'd expected, but I stll hate the whole Ultimate universe idea, excepting, as always, Ultimate Captain America, cos with him they got the character of a tough nut 1940's super soldier who wakes up 50 years later absolutely right. Also bought Crisis On Multiple Earths 2 which has maybe my favorite comic story of my entire youth in it, JLA #55 (all those crazy ass Doom Patrol's and Legion of Super Heroes and Star Spangled War Stories with the G.I's and their pitched battles against dinosaurs notwithstanding), which I remember buying off the wire rack there at Dart Drugs that summer of '67 like it was yesterday, not FORTY FUCKING YEARS AGO (Bobby Davis and David Baltz were with me, I had fifty grass cutting earned cents in my pocket, I also bought a Turok, Son of Stone comic but passed on the Our Army at War, cos we'd walked all the way there, a good couple miles from Camp Sprngs Forest where we lived, it was hot as fuck, and I was saving my second quarter for the HUGE Coca-cola Slurpee I was going to get at 7-11 on the walk home), and which actually featured my favorite super group of all time, which as all faithful readers know is the Justice Society of America (or Amerixaca as the first typing had it), the best costumes ever and not a lot of fancy shmancy super powers either, just a bunch of truth, justice and the American way spouting muscled up hardcases like Wildcat and Mister Terrific and adult Robin (pretty cool) and even lucha Hawkman, plus Hourman, who had super powers but who also had that great black and gold caped and cowled outfit going for him, plus any guy who does his fighting on drugs is A-OK with me. And the dialog is first rate- Johnny Thunder: Aiiiiieee! Wonder Woman, what's got into you? Actually, she said "Pure evil!", but its the same thing. There are eight issues of 1960's JLA in this volume, and quite a few of them feature Green Arrow, as a kid I thought he was goofy as fuck with his boxing glove arrows and electo arrows- Jesus Christ, get a fucking MACHINE GUN, be Green Machine Gun for fucks sake- but now I think he's priceless, "Only a desperate situation like this would bring me to fire an atomic warhead arrow", yeah, from like SIX FEET AWAY from his target, fortunately for him (and everything else within a couple mile radius) Starro the Conqueror- catchy name- ate GA's nuke tipped arrow like it was a weenie on a stick. In another issue he goes "This situation calls for a gizmo (you don't hear too many people say "gizmo" anymore, which is a shame, really, cos it's a word that makes me laugh) I don't even have a name for yet . . . I guess STICKUM-SHAFT is as good as any", boy howdy, fucking I'll say, and better than most, you know, I've got one of those myself, makes its own stickum and everything. Later he goes, "The Stickum Shaft has earned a permanent place in my quiver." Mine too, big boy. Mine too.
GOD, I love old comics. What's Bill drinking? Yeah, right. Got into the remains of twelve pack #7 earlier, there were only four left in it so, if my math is right, that means we put away 80 beers from Wednesday through Saturday, hardly a fucking record or anything, but still better than the seventy something I'd thought, just like a .300 batting average is so much more than a single percentage point better than .299. Already gone pretty deep into twelve pack number eight, but in case you've never done this, after days and days of drinking pretty much non stop, beer just turns to fucking water, not only can you drink tons of it, you need to, cos its the only thing that quenches your thirst and (temporarily) takes away that godawful headache and lets you feel even halfway human. Tomorrow's gonna suck. Thank God it never comes. Who on earth do you think you are? (WELL, RIGHT YOU ARE) DFZ hasn't wrestled a single match since last issue, he was supposed to work this weekend in Ravenswood and then somewhere in Ohio, I called and cancelled both appearances, I had drinking to do. Didn't hurt me any booking wise, both places want me back, and I've got more work than I can handle as it is, I'd like to say that these two weeks of non wrestling rest helped me out physically, but I hurt my shoulder lifting drunk the other day (an activity I'd recommend to exactly NO ONE) so, no, not wrestling hasn't really done me all that much good physically. Back into the trenches next weekend, first at the Regatta, defending the XMCW belt against, again (sigh) Wes Lynch, I need to just like break his fucking leg so I can work somebody else, this would be Saturday the 1st at 5 pm on Magic Island, right after the matches Danny and I are leaving for Martinsburg, gonna get pixilated drunk on Sunday at the WV Country Music Hall of Fame do (free PBR, are you kidding) there in Berkely Springs (Danny fixed it with some band, I can't remember who, they're gonna let yours truly onstage to pick and sing a bit with them, LOOK THE FUCK OUT), then we're going to work a show for House of Pain Labor Day afternoon before heading back.
Danny also forwarded me a message (he can't wrestle for fuck, but goddamn can he network), from his buddy Joe E. Legend who he met when he got hooked up with that European Fed when he was in Prague last spring, Joe is now the "Foreign Talent Booker" for this South African Fed that books tours all across the lower half of Africa, he's got one set for October and he wanted to know if we wanted on it. Too short notice, but if this tour does okay financially Joe has the job for the next three years, he'll be booking 4-5, one month to six week tours a year, says he'd love to book us, and not just cos he hopes Danny's going to put him in a movie (good luck with that) he's a DFZ fan (Danny sent him some tapes) says "he does the jacked up prick heel to perfection" and "his gimmick (the mask) would be SO over in Africa". No shit. Maybe this will turn into yet another could have but didn't Bill deal, like so many others over the past six years, but in this case I don't think so, I think this oneis gonig to happen. I'd so like to end this with a funny story from when Bill was kid, I know they were very popular, and one right now would kind of take the pissy sting off this issue, but I have to say, ever since my Dad died it's hard for me to write about those days. Maybe next time. Why in the world are we here? Surely not. Anything you want to add? (WHEN TOMORROW IS TODAY, THE BELL MAY TOLL FOR SOME You got that right. Later Bill
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Instant karma's gonna get you 
Yeah, I get it. Part of the lack of response to last issue, The Book Of
Galoshes, I figure is due to it not being on the site yet, I did get a
couple letters asking about that, the short answer, as well as the long
one, in fact, the only answer you're going to get from me is that I don't
know why. I don't know if it's through Joe's being busy, or disinterested,
or if he just fucking forgot, I don't see or talk to Joe very much at all
anymore, and nine times out of ten when I do see him it's, typically for
me, because I want something from him. And you know what, I always get it,
cos that's the kind of guy he is.
(WE'LL PROBABLY END UP WITH OUR HEAD ON A STICK).
(WE'RE ALREADY THE BADDEST MOTHERFUCKER IN BRITAIN, ASK ANY ROYAL
MARINE. SHE'S GOT NOTHING TO PROVE).
(YOU GOT A QUIVER, I GOT A STICKUM SHAFT, HONEY)
I got asked back when it was current, what were my thoughts concerning
the Chris Benoit murder-suicide nightmare, I didn't respond then, and my
only response now is to say that the whole thing honestly makes me sick to
my fucking stomach, but as part of one of the questions, I was asked, has
it affected me personally on an anti-wrestling backlash level, yes, it
has, after being forgiven by the HoP bookers for stomping on that kid's
head two years ago- they're not only now saying he asked for it, but that
it was a good thing, it improved his attitude to an amazing degree- hey,
DFZ is my name, tough love is my game- although again I have to call
revisionist bullshit on them cos they were pissed as fuck at me two years
ago- Danny got us booked at this huge show, matches and then afterward
this street party deal at the Apollo there in Martinsburg, it was going to
be so sweet, I LOVE working the Apollo, just a great venue, plus it was
going to be a BIG payday, John was booking me strong (wisely, he only had
Danny managing) so I was going to have a good match, and with a big time
outdoor fall party afterward with lots of opportunity to, uhm, make a new
friend, I was so fucking all about it . . . then the sponsor, the
Martinsburg Journal/Urinal (and how perfect was that?) pulled out cos they
didn't want to be associated with wrestling. Fuck me RUNNING.