-I know, but it's true. As alluded to somewhat last issue, I finally broke down and sought medical attention for my knees and just this overall malaise that was absolutely dragging me the fuck under. Got checked out literally head to toe (yeah, prostate included, Doc's remark being "I think it tried to bite me," "Yeah, well, keep your finger out of there then . . ") and while there's no hope for my home situation which is debilitating in and of itself, there is for my knees which, while still cartilege-less are not as damaged as I feared. Got a cortisone shot in each, cortisone being the medical term for magma. Doc warned me it would hurt- Bill: Hell Doc, I'm the fucking Death Falcon, a little pain won't both-AAAAAAAAAAAAAH HOLY FUCK!!!! Jesus biscuits did they hurt. A cortisone shot in the knee ain't no joke boys and girls. BUT- cortisone is the medical term for MAGIC magma cos my knees feel GREAT. Best they have in years. You have no idea- seriously NO IDEA- how rejuvenating it is to have my knees back. I feel ten years younger, easy. I can walk without limping and sleep without my knees doing that pain lightning bolt ZAP, GOT YA AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER thing on me all night. Of course my brain is now so much blood pudding- Doc found three healed skull fractures with comensurate organic brain damage- but what are you going to do? (START TAKING BETTER CARE OF YOUR MELON?) Eventually. (NOT SURE WE HAVE "EVENTUALLY", BUT WHATEVER) Also, as previously mentioned, for the first time since the NL started Bill was wanting to drop a little weight as opposed to continually putting it on- size matters in wrestling (of all kinds)- but 230 was just feeling too heavy (when the NL started Bill weighed in at 207), wasn't doing my knees any good either- STATS tells us Bill dropped six pounds last month and I'm feeling better for that as well. Gonna try and start a serious yoga program later this month- I'll be getting in touch soon Jean, got a couple students for you- now that my knees aren't driving me insane with pain- which they truly were, you have no idea- and the workout goal isn't more mass, I want to start working on flexibility and breathing exercises and all that other yoga stuff that may help ease my troubled mind. (GOOD LUCK WITH THAT) Hey, you can't win if you don't play. In more medical miracle news Sarah went and had the hearing in her rebuilt ear checked. It's damn near perfect, better than in the non-bionic one. Good news indeed. Not a whole lot of mail since last issue, which I sent out even more hammered than usual, blame Austin Nichols Distilling Company of Lawrenceburg, KY- (COS THEY CAME AND POURED IT DOWN YOUR THROAT, RIGHT?) -no cos they sold whiskey to me and they know I have Indian blood- (ON YOUR HANDS, MAYBE) - whatever, now stifle, anyway somehow I fucked up that bulk mail thing I normally do and when I tried to send it out indvidually I hit a lot of the wrong slots in my address thing so that some folks- like Joe of all people- who normally get it didn't and some who never do (and are no doubt glad of that fact) did. Sig wrote telling me about a sign at the St. Albans library that says- No Parking- 15 Minutes Parking- THE SAME SIGN- that's so inane it even gets up the ass of six year old Jesse who obviously has more damn sense than whoever put up that stupid sign. Also got a letter from a reader who bought Monster from Amazon- good for you- and sent me a glowing review- danke, but why not post it on Amazon, seriously, in fact I say that to all of you (excluding Mark who already did). Said his favorite was "Solution" which he describes as "Superman on a psychotic bender." (I LIKE THAT) Yeah, me too. Also kudos to Chris who sent me some photos of Denise Milani- heard of her, had never seen her- who's pretty much built too good to be true. But apparently she is. True, I mean. Good gravy, what I wouldn't give . . . "That sounds like a ridiculous situation of a matter." Ronny Gibson How can you argue with that? Obviously you can't, nor with the fact that you keep your dogs in a "kettle"- sounds kind of dangerous to me but whatever, or that if you're having trouble sleeping you might have sleep acne like Ronny fears he does. (LEAST IT AIN'T THE HYDERPHOBY) Not sure how much longer I'm going to be able to hang at the yard, now that I've cut my wrestling way back I can't survive on two days a week. Phil wants his three which is both fair and fine, he was there first, but he may wind up back at five cos- Those school girl days Or maybe not. Sig's helping me get hooked up as a substitute teacher for Kanawha County schools. (DEAR GOD. DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE A PRISON CELL IN SOMEONE'S FUTURE?) Whatever do you mean? (YOU AROUND A BUNCH OF SCHOOL GIRLS, THAT'S WHAT I MEAN) I'll have you know I'm a man of honor and restraint. (I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I'M NOT) Yeah, well you won't be there, will you? (I'M ALWAYS THERE) I know, dammit. I know . . . if a NL comes out titled To Sir, With Love you'll all know I'm doomed. (I KNOW IT ALREADY. ACTUALLY I KNEW IT BEFORE THIS) Got some obits while I'm thinking of them, Toni Adams, former wife/valet of Gentleman Chris Adams (who was shot dead in 2001, shooter got off on self defense) always loved old Chris's superkick, guys always sold it liked they'd been kicked by a horse, saw on the KM site a few months ago someone asked Michael Hayes about it, his reply being "Cos it was like beng kicked by a horse", explains that. Don't know what Toni died of- she was only forty five- or what she looked like there at the end, but 20 years ago she was hot. HOT. Also William G. Tapply, wrote the Brady Coyne mystery series, who died like last fall- I'm always the last to know (unless I already did his obit last fall and forgot which is not unlikely) - from leukemia, sad, he seemed like a real nice guy from his interviews, also an outdoorsman, his Dad used to write for Field and Stream and I think he did too. RIP Toni and Willie G. What's Bill been been doing? MC weekend before last at Chris's, we were going to watch the Flash Gordon documentary I brought but we ended up just hanging out on the deck drinking and smoking (by the way, to that person who was asking, I got your hook up). Since I didn't write it down I don't remember all the different beers we drank- my brain's blood pudding, remember. I brought some Modello cos it was hot as balls that evening and Modello is a nice refreshng drink, Rosa brought some Brazilian beer with a Chinese sounding name- started with an X, "Xing" something I think- which she liked but I thought was too sweet. Next night up to Mike (Mike's in for the next trip to Dayton by the way) and Sig's for some chicken cordon bleu- as noted in here before the girl can COOK- and some Yuengling and cigars- which I forgot but Mike remembered God love him- out on the deck. Mike told me Mister Bulky had recently competed in some power lifting event and set four- I repeat, FOUR- Amercan records, for the dead lift, squat, bench and total weight. This got him entered in some international event down in Costa Rica and I just heard from Sig today that MB is competing in Puerto Rico this weekend. By God, GOOD FOR YOU Mister Bulky. Good for you. Got a busy weekend coming up, meeting my boy Jason S for beers Thursday night, which I guess would be like today since it's after midnight, be great to see him it's been TWO YEARS, Jesus, Friday night it's over to Rosa's for Young Chris's off to college soiree- Barbara Eden is going to be there, right?- then Saturday DFZ- not Bill- is going to Mike Howerton's wedding in Parkersburg, should be a fucking blast, I love the mask and suit look, when I told Mike it was DFZ coming he heaved a big sigh and- Mike: Please tell him not to attack me during my wedding. -which is fucking hilarious, not "don't attack me" but "please tell him". And he was serious. I probably won't attack him. But I'm sure as shit going to posture. What's Bill been listening to? More alphabet fucking soup- Steppenwolf (2) Al Stewart (1) Rod Stewart (1) ST 37 (1) Stooges (3) Stranglers (4) Strawberry Alarm Clock (1) Sugar (1) Sugarloaf (2) Sun Ra (1) Superchunk (1)- with BB anthem "Slack Motherfucker"- SWA (1) Sweet (1) Talking Heads (3) Teenage Fanclub (2) Television (2) Interviewer: What compels you to call yourself Gorgeous? What's Bill been reading? A biography of Gorgeous George, funny but sad, GG was something of a wit, Bobby Managoff was cracking on his fancy ass robe, GG's response- GG: Your robe looks like the one my grandfather died in. -and not a bad wrestler at all, but he was a gambler and a drunk, blew through a fortune and died broke at the age of 48. Could have been worse I guess, he could have been saddled with the Wild Gypsy moniker, whose schtick was "spitting water on himself and eating spectator's straw hats". (THAT GUY MUST HAVE BEEN LAST IN LINE THE DAY THEY HANDED OUT GIMMICKS) I don't think he even showed up. Also Adrienne Barbeau's autobigraphy which I admittedly got mostly for the cover photo, a repro of her '78 cheesecake poster (and for $1.99, SSSLB), I'll have her sign it when I meet her at Scarefest this November (it's been pushed back this year). Us both being VIPs and all, maybe she'll buy me a drink. Or take one from me (direct from the spigot I'm hoping). Also read Mister Slaughter by Robert McCammon, very good, Highlander, A History Of The Highland Fighting Man, again quite good and Bill can attest to their stoutness, I've already recounted my story in here of the punchup in that Inverness dance hall only won by Bill when he resorted to dirty American fighting and kicked his opponent dead square in the fucking shankers- (WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?) -no shit, also a couple mystery anthologies that were dishearteningly bad, a big Astro City graphic novel that was very good- I have mentioned in here before that AC artist Brent Anderson drew the cover for Space and Time #25 (July '74) that contained a story by yours truly haven't I? Surely I have. Also read a big (552 pages) comp of The War That Time Forgot, taken from the old (OLD) Star Spangled War Stories (what better kind and that reminds me of a story I'll tell here in a minute.) What's Bill drinking? Been relatively dry lately, so much so that I bought a case of Yuengling yesterday on the way home from the yard- bought it as two twelve packs which for some reason was cheaper. Even though they were cold I threw them in the downstairs freezer- beats going upstairs to the refrigerator for multiple reasons. Came down here at 3 pm, started in, 3:45 and the first twelve pack is gone. Yeah, I'm shaking my head too, there's no fucking WAY, but here are the 12 cans stacked up beside me (which is why I stack my cans when I'm drinking alone, the girls can attest to the beer castles- very poetic, Sarah- I used to build back in the day but it all came from "There's no fucking way I just drank thirty cans of beer!", once I started stacking them I realized that I yes indeed I had) so I figured I'd try to slow down on the second twelve. Lasted till 6 pm. Honestly, sometimes I just get fucking THIRSTY. Thought about going back out for some more beer- like I needed it, I know- and a cigar, decided to just go to bed instead. At 6 pm. Pathetic. Slept like the dead. Woke up this morning feeling rough so after a LONG day with Ma- bank, Dollar General, Walgreens, Kroger (I should say Kroger twice, we were in there over two hours) Miracle Ear (yeah, she finally got hearing aids and I DO NOT want to talk about it, just one more fucking pain in the ass for Bill is all they've turned out to be)- a couple hours on the keyboard- I've completely given up on the gothic romance stuff, Laura, I'll get your Lion book back to you next time I see you, I simply CAN NOT read nor write this shit, it makes my skin fucking crawl honestly, it's not in me even a little bit although I did send Rhonda the first three chapters and the plot synopsis and she wants to buy it and have someone else finish the book, so I will be getting a check for what I've done and that's cool- and a punishing work out (I must have a streak of Puritan in me cos every time I get on a big drunk I make myself work out hard the next day to atone for it- crazy) that had me easily sweating a bucket of beer- I'm on another twelve of Yuengling. Hair of the fucking dog for sure and much needed. Going much slower tonight, have four big LaBatts in reserve which I know we're going to dip into- I know that cos I'm already on the second one- but tonight is not going to be anything like last night. I hope. DFZ was busy last weekend, worked Thursday night for Mike at the Eagles. Since we quit working there on weekends it hasn't been the sexual playground it once was cos the crowds, as in women, aren't there on a weekday, and I can't stay over even if they were, but whatever. I still charge Mike the same. A bunch of us- DFZ, Danny (he came up and we let him go out with the DeathStars) Jock, Shane, Allen and Wes Lynch, Ryan Spade, Rick Ramsey, the Iron City Icons- I'm liking these boys more and more, big strong kids, great look, good workers and just as respectful as they can be- (YOU JUST LIKE 'EM COS THEY KISS OUR ASS AND BUY US BEER) -can you tell me a better reason? (OKAY YOU GOT ME THERE) -went into the bar afterward to drink a few (and no, I didn't have to pay for a single beer, had to keep turning down food- "You want a pizza!" "No." "I'll buy it!" "How about another beer instead?" "OKAY!"- this is the marks, not other wrestkers) and I swear one of the things that keeps me in this biz is the genuine heartfelt camraderie amongst workers, especially good workers who respect one another. It's a beautiful thing, truly. At one point Jock is like "Why are you blowing off Santana", Bill's going "SANTANA! WHERE?" cos I was all about my girl back in January '09 as some of you surely remember and I'd be more than happy to catch a ride on that southbound train once again. Then Jock goes "Right there" and I just want to fucking cry. She's already waited on us twice and I swear I wasn't blowing her off, I didn't even RECOGNIZE her, in the eighteen months since the last time I saw her she's put on fifty pounds, maybe more. She's gone from blazing hot to- (BLAZING NOT?) I'm not sure that's an expression, but yeah. Why do people DO these things to themselves? (WHY DO PEOPLE POUND THEIR BRAINS TO BLOOD PUDDING?) Not the same thing. Or maybe it is, I don't know. A lot of people don't understand why I do the things I do, and that's fair. I will never EVER understand fat. NEVER. And that's fair too. Never finished last issue's 3rd of July DFZ stuff, we- DFZ, Shane and Monty Combs- were just going to come back to Charleston but Ryan Spade's wife- who makes me damned uncomfortable, she's always flirty as fuck with me to the point that all the boys have noticed it, and she's not at all bad looking, WAY too good looking for our pasty, pudgy boy Ryan, serious, she's built well, got these really full cocksucking lips that I sometimes fantasize about ejaculating between even though I know I shouldn't- is all "Come to the house and party with us guys, there'll be a lot of beer and women there,". I'm not buyng but Shane and Monty are so we go. Okay, I'm sort of buying. Shouldn't have. Lot of beer, true, and dope for those so inclined, and a lot of women, as in A LOT OF WOMEN. Not that many but they were all big as houses. Nothing I'd want to hook up with (nor would Shane and Monty)- not trying to be a dick, just a matter of taste- but in front of everyone RSW hops on my lap and starts doing the rub. The head of my cock is right between her ass cheeks so you know what's bound to happen. Also she's licking my neck. She's high as a damn kite, but still. I look at Ryan, who's just sitting there like it's no big deal, "Dude, reign in your woman" I tell him, "She's gonna do what's she's gonna do," he replies. Not the first time he's said this to me. I don't know, I can't say I'm very impressed by that attitude. Thank God right about then Ritchie- the Cuban Assassin- shows up- he overheard the invite and just showed the fuck up, I'm sure lured by the beer and women talk, ha that'll teach him- and this is easily the first time EVER I've been glad to see him. Not that I don't love Ritchie cos I do. He just talks SO MUCH. But it gives me a chance to dump RSW off my lap and have a word with Ryan Spade in private- "Look, if you let her come to Scarefest with us like she keeps talking and sleep in my bed- cos I am NOT sharing a bed with Brian Logan- I'm going to fuck her like I own her. So you need to do something about this. Not me. You." He thanked me for it but who knows. Actually, even though I didn't tell him cos he needs to nut up and take care of his own business, I won't let her come to Scarefest and sleep in my bed, but dammit it shouldn't fall on me and my horny ass to do the right damn thing, he shouldn't let her fuck with him like that, and she should repect him and their marriage enough not to carry on at all but especially not right in front of him with people he works with and if she can't or won't then our boy Ryan needs to kick her ass to the curb. (THEN CAN WE FUCK HER LIKE WE OWN HER?) Hell yeah. Anyway, around 2 am or so the women dispersed and the workers stayed up all night drinking Ryan's beer and telling war strories, pulled out of there around 9 am on the morning of the 4th (I'd pretty much drunk myself sober by that point). A good time. Ryan was having a good time at the Eagles show, in the bar- Ryan: Last time I got drunk with you we saw the sun come up.
DFZ is only booked for four shows in August, really slowing down. I just realized I didn't get into the two shows I worked in PA (courtesy of the ICI) last Friday and Saturday after the Eagles show on Thursday, they were generic, we'll leave it at that- although my pay was good, pretty much the only reason I wrestle out of town anymore. And yeah even though I know I need to protect the old coconut . . . DFZ is booked for a scaffold match at the Kanawha County Fair in September. Now, EVERY scaffold match there's ever been ends with the heels- in this case DFZ and Shane Storm- taking the fall off of the scaffold. But since I won't be landing on my head it should be okay. Besides, a scaffold match is one of the very few gimmick matches DFZ hasn't done- there have been cage, barbed wire ropes, barbed wire boards, barbed wire ropes AND boards, barbed wire bats, coffin, thumbtacks, thumbtack bats (thanks agan Rachie) light tubes, various shit on a pole (loaded gloves, money, condoms, machine guns), bullrope, Russian chain (even though neither one of us were even kayfabe Russian), last man standing, mask vs. hair, triple hell, four corners of pain, double cactus- yeah, really- Texas death, all that shit. Pretty much stayed away from fire unless that incompetent Professor Danger was throwing it in my face. But never a scaffold match- till now. Time for my story. Reading that old SSWS comp was killing me in a bittersweet nostalgic way cos I remember these comics vividly from my youth- my very early youth. I remember like it was yesterday reading SSWS #120 (May '65) with it's INCREDIBLE Joe Kubert cover- The Tank Eater, how can you not love it, and not to be confused with The Sub Catcher or The Plane Eater or The Dinosaur Who Ate Torpedos?- downstairs at Ronny Darnell's house, but I remember like it was TODAY SSWS #104 (August '62 when Billy was five and yet to start school), I remember that whole fucking DAY. It was hot that day, crazy hot, and the house we lived in- 311 78th St, in Seat Pleasant MD- our phone number was REdwood 5-5964- had no air conditioning. I was sent outside cos my Mom's parents were in and according to my Mom I was bugging them- go figure. And I'm telling you it was so hot outside you could hardly breathe. So when Mr. Magee next door put out his sprinkler and then went back inside I figured what the fuck. There was no point in asking cos my Mom would just say no- Mr. M might say no as well for that matter but I doubt it, he was a nice guy- and even at that age I'd learned it was better to ask for forgiveness or better yet just run like hell when caught as opposed to asking for permisson. If I tried to sneak in and put on my bathing suit someone was bound to see me, so I took off all my clothes except my little boy briefs and jumped in Mr. Magee's sprinkler. That's still one of my brightest little boy memories. That cold sprinkler water felt so fucking GOOD and I have to admit the latent exhibitionist in me even then was getting a kick out of being out in public in nothing but my drawers. We all know what happens to all good things and far too soon there's my Grandmother on the front porch- Granny: Dot! DOT! That child is out there romping in his undercrackers. Well I had to get down and roll on the ground cos she's said "undercrackers" which gave my Dad time to come to the door. He surveys the situation, "Those are his skivvies" he informs my Grandmother and then yells at me- Dad: Billy! Quit jumping around in that water in your skivvies
and get in here and get dried off. We're going to the store. My Dad was still at the door when I got there, shaking hs head- D: Why didn't you just ask if you could play in that sprinkler?
Well, he couldn't argue with that so I got dried off and re-dressed and we went to the store- the Super Giant where I was to get into so much trouble with the lobsters, with the Drug Fair next to it. The heat at the house had gotten to my Grandmother so she elected to sit on the bench at the front of the store while the rest of us shopped. My Grandad- this is not the crazy one who killed people- was going to sit with her- he'd be gone in less than two years and I miss him to this day- but my Mom knew he liked to look around the store cos they had nothing like a Super Giant back in little old Rock Hill so my Mom goes- Mom: Billy, you sit here with your Grandmother. Even back then Billy liked his comics. So we sat there for a while but jeez, it's hard for me to just sit. Billy: Grandma? And off I went to the Drug Fair, and I wasn't kidding, it WAS hard to decide. I knew buying a ghost or horror book was out of the question, it'd be out of my hands and in the trash like that- so I read them in the store- and I never could make heads or tails out of all that early Marvel shit, if Captain America and Spiderman are both heroes why the fuck are they always fighting one another on the covers?- still, you had your Justice League and The Flash (my favorite for some reason), Batman and Superman and World's Finest with both of 'em, the Legion of Super Heroes, Space Ranger, all the other SF titles, and the Army books, Turok, another favorite, Indians fightng dinosaurs and I was a huge dinosaur mark as a kid, then- what's this? This cover jumps out at me. Here's these Army men on a big log and this dinosaur is trying to turn it over and they're shooting at it with tommy guns- holy SHIT. Dinosaurs AND tommy guns? I'm IN. So I bought it and took it back with me and sat quietly- except for all the dinosaur and tommy gun noises I made, when the dinosaurs went GREE-UNK I went GREE-UNK and when the tommy guns when budda budda, I went budda budda- reading it next to my relieved Grandma till the shopping was done. And since she told my Dad that I'd been good, which was generous of her, he and I walked back down to Drug Fair and I got a second comic. What was it? Fuck if I can remember. That's the first story about the old days we've heard in a while. Just came on me. I'm gonna go. I'm about as beered up these past two days as a man can get, and I got three more straight ahead of me. (I THINK YOU CAN HANDLE IT) Oh, no doubt. Any closing words? (I RESOLVE TO KEEP HER FULL AND FOCUSED WITH MY FIBER) Sounds like a plan. Later Bill
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