Addressing the unresolved issues that culminated at “CITY of CHAMPIONS” with a vicious after-the-bell beatdown on the 2010 Trust Busters (Thesz & Swagger). This heinous attack at the hands of Desmond Wolfe and Ed “The Strangler” Lewis (associates and business partners of Gold Dust Trio Inc) has left Undisputed Champion Lou Thesz with several injuries. Will he be forced to retire? Will he resign the Championship, or fight permanent injury to defend it? Also at “CITY of CHAMPIONS”, Masahiko Kimura completed his blood quest and drove the traitorous RIKIDOZAN from the sport. Due to the unfortunate tragedy that befell RIKIDOZAN recently, Kimura refuses to take questions or speak on the man any further. His next mission involves Gold Dust Trio Inc’s hired mercenary ABDULLAH the BUTCHER, who The Grand Wizard has promised will devour Kimura alive.
LOU THESZ: When I was undisputed champion, I weighed 230 lbs. and was considered a pretty good sized heavyweight. But today, why...I would be considered small at 230 pounds. This young man that I am standing with [Jack Swagger] is 6' 4" tall and 275 pounds and he is lean as a greyhound. These people can move around the ring like middleweights, these heavyweights today. And we didn't understand that in the past. We thought that if a fellow got just a little oversized, that we could move around him and ace him out with our speed and expertise. That doesn't seem to be true anymore
JACK SWAGGER: Good Lord willing I’d like to do this [training with the Shooters Club] until I’m financially comfortable and I can venture off and find something else that I’m just as passionate about. But I love this industry, I love working for this company. It would take a lot for me to just hang it up, but it’s not going to last forever and you have to prepare yourself for it. Anything can change at any minute. It’s kind of one of the exciting things about it, but at the same time one of the downsides about it. I see Jack Swagger wrestling for at least another 10 years.
LOU THESZ: Pro wrestling is a fantasy of vulgarity and violence and incorporates all the negatives in our society today - gangs, concern only for number one, sex for individual pleasure, and death. On occasion I watch it, and always with the hope I will see some redeeming character, one positive role model for my grandchildren, one hint of common courtesy or concern for anyone other than self.
Lou Thesz WILL step into the ring at “KNOW the LEDGE” where he will DEFEND his Undisputed Championship against the Gold Dust Trio Inc’s chosen one, DESMOND WOLFE!!! To prove his superiority, skill and natural talent – even in the face of serious injury – LOU THESZ announces their title match will be “Best 2 out of 3 Falls”, just like they used to do back in the old days. Plus, JACK SWAGGER challenges ED “The Strangler” LEWIS – the legendary hooker and shooter, the man who defined pro-wrestling and instilled fear in men around the globe – to a match at “KNOW the LEDGE”. But not just any match – a Submission match, where the only way to win is to squeeze a humiliating, and demeaning submission from your overmatched opponent! The Shooters Club means business! Now, Masahiko Kimura will address the concerns that he will be facing a bloodthirsty savage, unlike any other he’s ever faced. Does he feel overmatched? What strategy will he use to attack the Butcher, who is a world-renowned judo expert? Is he scared???
MASAHIKO KIMURA: If you refuse to fight today, the angry audiences will set fire on the arena. I had sprained my left knee when I demonstrated judo techniques in Rio de Janeiro. But the arena was already full, and over 5000 people were waiting outside the arena. The start time of the match had already passed. The audiences were booing. To the promoter, money is more important than my injury. Eventually, I and Yano were taken to a room where 3 black policemen were gathering. A small man then came out from behind the policemen, and said to me, "You are a Japanese, Mr. Kimura, aren't you? My father is also a Japanese. A while ago, a boxer became unable to show up for a fight due to an injury. The audiences then got angry and set fire on the building. The building was burnt to ash. No one knows who set the fire. Moreover, the boxer got shot with a pistol on his way home. He got killed instantaneously. Nobody knows who shot him either. Mr. Kimura, you'd better show up for the fight. Even if you may lose, it is better than getting shot to death." He also added that he was the only Japanese in this town, and all the rest are blacks.
Now I had to make a decision. My opponent Adema Santana was a 25 year old black man, and was a boxing heavy weight champion. He was 4th dan in judo, and a capoeira champion as well. He was 183cm had a well proportioned impressive physique. His weight was close to 100kg. Bahia, where the match took place, is a port city where black slaves were unloaded. The slaves were forbidden to carry a weapon. As a result, many martial arts were developed by them, I heard. Vale Tudo is one of such martial arts. In the south of Sao Paulo, pro wrestling is popular. But the farther one goes to the north, the more popular Vale Tudo becomes. Helio Gracie, whom I had previously fought, was the champion in Vale Tudo. But Adema Santana challenged him the previous year (Note: 1957), and after 2 hours and 10 min, Helio got kicked in the abdomen, could not get up, and got knocked out. Thus, Adema had become the new champion. In Vale Tudo, no foul is allowed. 1 foul results in an immediate disqualification. No shoes are allowed. When the fighters are separated, they are not allowed to strike with a fist, and they have to use open hand strikes. But once they get in contact with each other, every type of strike is allowed but groin strikes. All types of throws and joint locks are legal. The winner is decided when one of the fighters is KO'd or surrenders. Biting and hair pulling were illegal. Since bare knuckle punches are traded, taking direct 2 or 3 hits in the eye means the end of the fight. I was told there have been many cases in which a fighter got hit in the eye with an elbow, and the eyeball popped out from the socket by half, and got carried to the hospital by an ambulance. Therefore, there were always 2 ambulances at the entrance of the arena.
"I have no choice. I will fight." I said. Then, the promoter grinned, took out a form and told me to sign it. Yano translated the content, which said, "Even if I die in this match, it is what I intended, and will not make anyone accountable for my death." I nodded, and signed the form. On my way to the ring, someone raised his arm and waved at me. It was Helio Gracie, whom I had not seen for several years. Helio was at the radio broadcast seat. He was the commentator of the match. The gong rang. Adema and I circled the ring first. I lightly extended my fingers in a half-body posture, and prepared for his kicks. Adema, also in a half-body posture, had tucked his chin, tightened his underarms, as he would do in a boxing match. Once in a while, he delivered high kicks to my face. I blocked the kicks with my hands, and returned a kick with my right leg. Adema started to deliver right and left round house kicks. I stepped back and dodged them, but suddenly, I received a fire-like impact on my face. It was an open hand strike. I had overlooked his hand motion, paying too much attention to his kicks. When I got hit in the temple, and the core of my head became a blur, left and right round house kicks came. When I blocked his right kick with my left hand, a tremendous pain ran through from the tip of the little finger to the back of the hand. I had jammed the finger. I traded kicks with him. The entire audiences were standing with excitement. Even in this situation, I was able to think clearly. While I was thinking "Adema is one level higher than I both in kicks and open hand strikes. In order to win, I must take the fight to the ground", another fast kick flew at my abdomen.
I struck the kick down with left knife hand, and jumped in to deliver a head butt on his abdomen with a momentum that could penetrate through his body. This must have had an effect on him. He covered his abdomen, and stepped back while wobbling. I wanted to get close to him, throw him, get on top of him, and use Newaza. If I succeed in this, I could use elbow strikes and head butts. Adema recovered from the damage, and delivered a kick to my face again. I ducked the kick, and jumped in for a clinch. I got in a tight clinch to prevent him from using knee kicks or elbow strikes. We traversed along the rope. All of a sudden, I received a head cracking impact. I experienced a tremendous ear ringing, and got momentarily unconscious. I received a head butt on my left temple. It was a head butt from a side. I had thought that all the head butts would come from front. I never knew a side head butt. "I cannot lose here. I must win even if I may die", I thought. Driven by this willpower, I tried to find a way to fight back. The referee then came in between to separate us. We were already covered with blood. The fight was brought back to the center of the ring again. Adema threw a right open hand strike. I caught the arm and attempted Ippon-seoi. It seemed like I could score a clean throw. However, it was a miscalculation. We were both heavily covered with sweat as if a large amount of water had been poured onto our heads. Moreover, he had no jacket on. There was no way such a technique could have worked under these conditions. His arm slipped through, and my body rotated in the air once forward, and landed on my back. "I screwed up!" I shouted in my mind, but it was too late. Adema immediately jumped at me. If he got on my chest, he could freely strike my eyes, nose, and chest with his elbows. I caught him in a body scissors. I squeezed his body with full force hoping to sever his intestine. Adema crumbled momentarily, but did not surrender. Since the body scissors did not finish him, I realized that I was in a disadvantageous position. When I lifted my head, hundreds of stars flew out of my eyes. I took a straight punch between my nose and my eyes. It was an accurate intense punch. The back of my head got slammed onto the mat.
Moreover, an intense head butt attacked my abdomen. It felt like my organs would be torn into pieces. Once, twice, I hardened my abdominal muscles to withstand the impact, and waited for the 3rd attack. At the moment the 3rd head butt came, my right fist accurately caught Adema's face by counter. It landed between his nose and eyes. Blood splattered. I had also already been heavily covered with blood. The blood interfered with my vision. "Kill him, kill him!" the devil in my mind screamed. Adema wobbled, and stepped back, and tried to run with the ropes on his back. I chased him throwing kicks and open hand strikes. He returned head butts and elbow strikes. But, neither of us was able to deliver a decisive strike. Maybe we were both exhausted, or maybe the blood in our eyes prevented us from aiming clearly at the target. After all, the 40 minutes ran out, and the match ended in a draw. It was my first Vale Tudo experience. That night, my face was badly swollen. I had a number of cuts on my face. Every time I breathed, an excruciating pain ran through my belly, and I could not sleep. I received an injection from a doctor, and cooled my belly with a cold towel all night. However, I learned a very important lesson in this fight. That is, one must never fear death. If I had not had the iron will to fight despite the possibility of getting killed, his head butts would have torn my intestine into pieces.
[Cut to commercial]
THE FOUNDING FATHER
Unraveling the tangled past of Gold Dust Trio Inc founder Mister Mondt
Professional wrestling is deceptive in more ways than one. Although it seems as if it has changed drastically from even, say, ten years ago, in truth it has not really changed one iota. Wrestling follows the same formula it has followed since 1919. While there have been additions, subtractions and other modifications during the years between then and today, the same basic rules apply.
I know the counter-arguments. The same basic formula since 1919? Didn’t wrestling evolve? What about television in the Forties? What about the cable television revolution? What about Pay-Per-View? What about Vince McMahon? What about merchandising? What about... yada, yada, yada. My reply is this: modern professional wrestling was the brainchild of one lone genius. That genius was Joseph "Toots" Mondt.
In our relentless quest to bring you the latest and most ground-breaking developments in BCCW (and in turn - wrestling history), we have unearthed more information on Mister Mondt: founder of the Gold Dust Trio Inc and perhaps THE most revolutionary name in pro wrestling history.
One of the paradoxes of professional wrestling as we know it today was that it did not evolve from earlier forms. The idea of modern wrestling sprang full-blown from the head of Mondt like Athena from Zeus. The other, seamier (if that is possible) side of wrestling, promoter politics, while not invented by Mondt, was nevertheless refined by him into the Fine Art of the Screw Job. Many an "ingrate" wrestler was cheated of his rightful purse or glory because a) he refused to play along; (b) he was demanding too much money (i.e., his just share); or (c) expediency. One must therefore imagine Mondt’s utter surprise when the same thing was done to him by one of his prize pupils. His reaction? Just like one of the boys. Sit back and take orders from the new boss. The monster he had helped create claimed him as another of its many victims.
Before we examine his achievement, let’s first examine Mondt himself. Toots was born Joseph Raymond Mondt on a farm in Iowa in 1886. Where in Iowa Toots never made clear, although he would often bill himself from Humboldt, as did probably every other wrestler who hailed from Iowa. At any rate, Mondt’s father went broke as an Iowa farmer and moved the family to Greeley, Colorado, where he pursued a livelihood in the mines. Not wishing to spend the rest of his days in Greeley, Toots began learning the art of wrestling via correspondence courses from Farmer Burns. He combined this teaching with the strong body shaped from the family farm and made his debut in Greeley at the age of 16 taking on a carnival wrestler.
When the carnival left town it had a new employee. Toots worked a lot of carnivals over the years, for the mortality rate of carnivals, due to police activity, was extremely high. He would also try his hand in vaudeville as an acrobat, but he was unable to work his way past the lowest depths of the vaudevillian caste system. His big break came when he returned to carnival wrestling. There he was discovered by Burns during one of Burns’ many scouting trips. Working with Burns was the wrestling equivalent of a Ph.D. program and served Mondt well. Burns was also responsible for Mondt’s nickname. Mondt was the youngest wrestler in the Burns camp, and the nickname "Toots" had to do either with his small feet or his relative youth and baby face, depending which story you care to believe. Were it not for the tutelage of Burns it’s doubtful Toots would have graduated to the next level and professional wrestling wouldn’t be in the form we know it as today.
Enter the year 1919. Up until this time wrestling contests were slow-moving exhibitions mainly confined to the mat and lasting, on average, 60 minutes. Crowds no longer found this to be suitable entertainment and accordingly they began to dwindle. Thus, with the time was right for a new approach.This new approach came from the fertile mind of Mondt, though not all at once. Mondt joined the camp of Ed "Strangler" Lewis on the recommendation of Burns and fit right in, serving in various capacities as sparring partner, trainer, sometime opponent and valuable policeman. Few wrestlers were as tough as Toots and he made sure that every Lewis opponent knew the "rules" of that night’s contest. As a sparring partner and trainer, he helped Lewis develop new holds and counters. As a pro wrestler, Toots was there when Lewis had trouble finding an opponent, for Toots lost to no one but the Strangler, giving the match a little juice at the gate.
Lewis and his manager/partner Billy Sandow were having trouble in getting Lewis’ claim to the heavyweight championship (won in a 1915 Jack Curley-sponsored tournament in New York City) recognized. Each promoter for the most part worked independently of other promoters and each had his own champ. Even Curley refused to recognize Lewis’ claim, having his own champion in Joe Stecher. This created a problem for the independent operator. Because he worked on a percentage of the gate, it was important to build up his matches. But this method was haphazard at best. Lewis could spend valuable time building up a match against Charley Cutler in New York and see it all come for naught when Cutler loses to Joe Stecher the week before. Word of Cutler’s loss would inevitably reach the Big Apple before the match resulting in a small gate and a small payoff for Lewis.
Given the size of the problem, Mondt’s solution was downright ingenuous. First, he convinced Sandow and Lewis that the days of wrestling in its current form were numbered. If they were to get the crowds, they had to change the style to meet the new expectations. Mondt’s suggestion was to combine features of boxing, Greco-Roman wrestling, freestyle wrestling and the old-time lumber-camp style of fighting into what Mondt termed "Slam Bang Western Style Wrestling." This is essentially the form of wrestling we know today, save for the addition of acrobatics.
Next, reasoned Mondt, why were Sandow and Lewis allowing promoters to control them? With a little planning, they could be the ones calling the shots. Mondt simply reached back into his vaudeville days and conceived the plan to promote wrestlers and wrestling bouts on the same scale as vaudeville acts were booked and staged. He, Sandow and Lewis would act as a central booking agency and with the contacts they had among the wrestlers, the plan could be pulled off with little trouble. To the credit of Mondt’s partners, they didn’t need a lot of wattage in order to see the light. They immediately set about convincing other wrestlers about the advantages of the new style of wrestling and signed hundreds of them to contracts. Under Sandow, Lewis and Mondt, the boys would be well paid and paid timely, no longer subject to the whims of a promoter. Within only six months Sandow was the new czar of wrestling. By signing every wrestler he saw, Sandow decimated the talent pools of the other promoters. Meanwhile, the new style of Slam-Bang Wrestling was completely over with the fans, drawing huge gates and providing sweet payoffs for the hundreds of new employees on Sandow’s payroll.
In the short space of only six months the trio of Lewis, Mondt and Sandow controlled the course of professional wrestling in America. More importantly, they also moved their product out of the burlesque theaters and back alley halls to the major sports venues in each city they promoted. It didn’t take long for the Gold Dust Trio (as they were nicknamed by sportswriters) to build their empire, but as with any successful revolution, the secret came not in gaining the prize, but in holding onto it. This was where the Trio made their mark on the history of wrestling. All new talent was tested in Sandow’s private ring. Routines and finishes were carefully worked out, most by Toots himself. Characters were refined. The art of "working" was born. When two men faced each other in the ring, each knew the other’s ability and style, and the best man usually won. To Sandow’s credit, a merit system was established. The best workers were kept on top. Those who had color but lacked ability were kept off the top rung. They became "ethnic" wrestlers; given a name and character to fit whatever crowd they were aimed at. Oh sure, the ethnic wrestler might receive a title shot now and then, but would never hold a title. The public would never buy an ethnic wrestler as champion and Sandow knew it. Any ethnic wrestler who possessed exceptional ability was "de-ethnicized," a lesson they learned when the failed to do so with Stan Zbyszko, one of their rare failures. Lewis would hold the belt for now, and when they determined that the public was tiring of the champ, a new champ, an all-American champ, would be selected to take the crown. All other good ethnic wrestlers would be built up as local favorites and given shots at the champ whenever he wandered into their area. Sandow’s conviction was that only a wrestler of exceptional ability should be champion. This was the reason Lewis dominated the belt during the Twenties. It lent an air of legitimacy to the proceedings and convinced the public everything was on the level. The point was no longer in the contest, but in how the contest went over.
In the new jargon of wrestling, a "program" was a series of bouts whose ultimate result was to build up a suitable opponent for the champ to meet when he came to town. The wrestler to be built up would be receiving a "push." He would work the program with another well-heralded matman, well-regarded with the fans, so when the man to be pushed went over, the fans accepted it. If the man to be pushed wasn’t going over with the fans, wasn’t getting that all-important "heat" (fan excitement), then he would work the job to his opponent. The fans always came first.
If one wrestler "hooked" (double-crossed) another, he would usually come face to face with the "policeman" in his next bout. The policeman knew everything he needed to about this rogue grappler because the policeman was usually the one who broke the wrestler in and trained him. That policeman was none other than Mondt himself, for that was Tootsie’s role in the organization. The match would be a "shoot," meaning on the level, at least on the part of the policeman. Mondt was so feared and respected that he rarely if ever had to engage in these kinds of matches. Besides, under the Sandow-Lewis-Mondt regime the boys were paid so much better that only a few had any reason at all to grumble. Sandow came up with an innovation so radical that it won the boys over without complaint: the regular paycheck. Wrestlers never had to worry where their next payoff was coming from or by who, or whether the promoter had absconded with the box-office receipts during the bouts. Sandow’s system led to the saying "loyal as his last paycheck."
This system worked so well that wrestling played to healthy crowds during the Twenties. Many fans became hooked on the weekly doings at their arena no matter how many times they saw their favorites wrestle each other. Another factor that made the fans come back for more was the complete absence of any form of wagering at the arena. Sandow hated betting, believing it gave his product a bad odor. Wrestlers and promoters who broke this taboo soon found themselves on the outside looking in. Wrestling for Sandow was "worked," not crooked.
While a good thing can’t be expected to last forever, the way in which the Gold Dust trio’s empire dissolved was positively ludicrous. A power struggle developed between Toots and Sandow’s brother Max that quickly led into a "him or me" demand by Mondt. To Mondt’s surprise, Sandow chose his brother and Toots was out in the cold - but not for long. He soon hooked up with Philadelphia impresario Ray Fabiani. Fabiani, one of the promoters who had to accept whatever he was given during the glory days of the Gold Dust Trio, snapped at the chance to be Mondt’s partner. Mondt for his part chose Fabiani because of his political connections in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware. The new combination wasted no time in choosing their new titleholder, Dick Shikat, a former circus strongman originally from Germany. When they determined Shikat’s reign as champion had run his course, they made Jim Londos the new champ and struck it rich as Londos became wrestling’s first matinee idol. Sandow and Lewis, on the other hand, allied themselves with Paul Bowser of Boston and put over another ex-college football player, Gus Sonnenberg, as their new champion. This partnership would end in 1931 when Bowser pulled the rug out from his partners in putting Henri DeGlane over on Lewis as champ in a crooked bout. Lewis and Sandow went into eclipse while Mondt’s star continued its rise.
With the immensely popular Londos as champ, Mondt and Fabiani consolidated their hold on the Northeast. From their base in Philadelphia, they moved north to New York City and Hartford, and south to Baltimore and Washington, D.C. This is as far as Toots wished to expand; he had seen the pitfalls of a national operation from being involved with Lewis and Sandow. New York City was the toughest market to crack, controlled for many years by the formidable Jack Curley, who could often call on help from Bowser in Boston. Bowser, who did not like the fact the Mondt and Fabiani were invading his New England territory, gave Curley as much help as he could in repelling the invaders from Philadelphia.
For their part, Mondt and Fabiani had help in the form of Rudy Dusek, Jack Pfeffer, the Johnston Brothers, and Jess McMahon, who worked for the noted boxing promoter Tex Rickard. (Rickard, who despised wrestling, kept the game out of Madison Square Garden from 1939-48, claiming low attendance as the reason.) But the man who ultimately helped Toots triumph in the Big Apple was none other than Bernarr McFadden. McFadden, a physical culturalist and former wrestler turned millionaire cum philanthropist. In the Twenties, McFadden opposed the Gold Dust Trio, but different times bring different attitudes. Nursing a grudge against Curley, McFadden bankrolled Mondt’s invasion of New York. By the early Forties, Curley’s organization was gone and Toots reigned supreme.
CREDIT:
The Phantom of the Ring, "The Founding Father," Wrestling Perspective,
Volume VIII, Number 68, (1997): 9 - 11.
Collect Call from Walpole prison. Give New Jack a live mic (or even a call-in radio spot like this) and watch the sparks fly. Nothing escapes his brutal tongue; nothing is too taboo or PC for New Jack to attack. And in the gruesome world of underground Death Matches, nothing is sacred. God? Religion? Politics? Nothing raises the ire of the IWC anymore – nothing is too controversial. Unless you’re New Jack. And your topic is the 3-year anniversary of Chris Benoit’s double murder/suicide. Let the FCC complaints begin…
NEW JACK: Nancy was a goddamn friend of mine, aiight. She was a friend of mine, and I worked with her and Chris at the same time. She was more of a friend of mine than that motherfucker was. And I don't give a fuck what she did; I don't give a fuck what she said, she didn't... what he did to her didn't justify - I don't give a fuck what it was. If she was off into some S and M shit, trust me, it didn't just start that motherfucking night, and it ended that motherfucking night. That motherfucker Chris was off into some mental shit all by himself. Fuck steroids, because somebody in this room done steroids before, and not just me - and you know what? I ain't never been convicted of choking no ho and killing her fucking kid, no. "The kid didn't deserve to get killed, and she didn't deserve to get killed either, because first of all, you look at him. If the bitch mouth is that big, and you can't take it, then bitch, go and get the fuck on. If you got to smack the bitch upside the head, smack the bitch upside the head and go and get the fuck on. But it took a motherfucking straight one hundred percent uncut fucking coward to do what that motherfucker did.
And it's motherfuckers that keep coming out to this day talking about what kind of a guy he was; that he was a good guy. Man, suck my dick. What you choke a kid's life, out his motherfucking body, and this kid's got your posters up on his wall, and got your action figures up, and your belt, and your wife is depending on you to take care of them and provide for them, even though she might have a big-ass motherfucking mouth, it ain't a motherfucking that that can justify you choking the life out that bitch and shooting you kid up with motherfucking Xanax and killing him too - I don't give a fuck. "And 'to death do us part' ain't nothing but some shit that somebody motherfucking wrote in a goddamn book or on a motherfucking piece of paper. If you can't take what the bitch is doing, if a smack don't goddamn do it, then leave that motherfucking bitch. "And then his daddy comes on TV and tries to justify by saying, 'oh, he did the ECW, and that wasn't nothing but garbage wrestling because he got hit upside the head'. I'll show you ten tapes of Chris getting hit upside the head; I'll show you ten tapes of Chris putting his motherfucking hand in the way and his hand taking the shot. That motherfucker didn't never get hit with no motherfucking chair shot till his head crack, goddammit. He ain't never get hurt to that motherfucking level. I cracked my motherfucking skull and had shit coming out my nose, my ears and my fucking mouth. Didn't know who I was for goddamn four or five months - and it aint no... none of my kids ain't still living to this motherfucking day.
So you know what? The day that he killed both of them, all the goddamn credit to him goes out the motherfucking window. Chris Benoit, I hope your motherfucking ass - if there is a heaven or a hell, I hope you go to hell and catch the fuck on fire for eternity motherfucker, because there ain't a motherfucking thing. And for all them motherfuckers trying to cover up for you and justify for you - fuck you and fuck them too. And for motherfuckers with Vince - like Vince - that tried to make excuses for you, fuck that motherfucker too, I'm sorry. I seen that shit as a kid growing up with my momma and fucking daddy and fuck that bullshit. I don't give a fuck. I don't give a fuck. Nancy did not deserve to get the life choked out of her because you were on some psychotic shit. I don't give a fuck what nobody say. And for all you handpicked motherfuckers that Vince put on those fucking talkshows, and goddamn put Benoit over, I hope your kids born fucking retarded, because the shit didn't make no sense. From John Cena, all down to everybody else, talking about 'he was a good guy'. From fucking, the Million Dollar Man dude, talking about, 'he was a good guy'. Motherfucker, when you killed your seven year old son and when you choked the life out of your fucking wife, it ain't a montherfucking thing good should have came out of nobody's mouth about your punk ass. And I hope the maggots eat your motherfucking ass slow, you cocksucking motherfucker.
And just like everybody else knew - the shit that Vince did, you still got away with it. Because it was a big thing in the news at one time, and all of a sudden, it died down, and it's WWE back to fucking normal, and it's the same thing. You got away again, with fucking murder. And Vince McMahon, you and the motherfuckers that work with you, all of you got blood on your hands, 'cause all of you motherfuckers is crooked and you just keep getting away with fucking murder. Yo had that cocksucker Brian, something or other, from Figure Four, something or other, whatever that bullshit was - Brian Alvarez - he come on talking about when Kronus died, talking about 'oh, it was drugs in ECW, and they ran rampant, and they were at ringside.' He a goddamn liar. Because bitch, I worked for ECW from 2000, I mean from ninety-motherfucking-four, ninety-five to 2000, and the only motherfucker died was motherfucking Louie Spicolli - the only one. But you look at the motherfuckers that work for fucking Vince ends up fucking dying, you goddamn cocksucker, you're averaging three a goddamn year. So gaddamn, do the motherfucking math. And then you pretend that you fire the motherfuckers on steroids - you didn't fire no-fucking-body. You took a piss test - anybody can piss in a motherfucking cup and put somebody else's name on it. That ain't a motherfucking test. That ain't a drug test, that's bullshit. You got people working in you fucking office - their job is to do office work and stay fucking clean, so Test can goddamn piss goddamn clean. And trust me, when you gave Test his name, you didn't give that motherfucker his name because Test, because he got good grades in fucking high school, motherfucker. He was a goddamn steroid freak, and you fucking know it. You ass done got away with murder, and you're gonna have to answer to some-fucking-body, somewhere, one motherfucking day. You're gonna have to. And I don't give a fuck what none of y'all say, but you look at your fucking track record. And you stand there and you pretend that you fire bodies - you didn't fire nobody. You paid off some contracts, you sent some people home early, you paid their contract up, and you was like, instead of like, 'I'm not gonna renew your shit any-fucking-way, so here you go. I need to let some of you go, here you go. Oh, by the way - y'all get sent home with pay.'
Bitch, I would not play the game like that. And for all you motherfuckers that are still playing it, and still up on the fence with the nuts resting on your forehead, you motherfuckers ought to tuck your dick between your legs and duct tape it, and run around the house and rub peanut better on you, 'cause you ain't a fucking man. You's a bunch of goddamn fucking cowards. Chris Benoit, you was a fucking coward. You was a straight fucking coward. Choke your fucking wife till she fucking... till the life left her body. You choke your son till the life left his body. And then you took a fucking cable, put it round your neck, and had the nerve to put some padding betwen it, just in case the bitch didn't go right. Fuck you.
CREDITS:
JACK SWAGGER: Baltimore Sun April 23, 2010
LOU THESZ: Pro American Wrestling Association (PAWA) 1985 & Wrestling Classics
MASAHIKO KIMURA: My Judo
NEW JACK: Shoot interview with the Iron Sheik and Honky Tonk Man.
TOOTS MONDT background: The Phantom of the Ring, "The Founding Father," Wrestling Perspective,
Volume VIII, Number 68, (1997): 9 - 11.
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