I have decided to walk away from the wrestling business at the end of the year. If my bookings last that long. I should say, just walk away, since there is no wrestling business left. You have Vince’s WWE industry. Which is nothing more than rasslin filled with the smart marks Vince chooses. Then you have TNA, which is nothing more than a smart mark indy with a millionaire’s checkbook and a TV slot Vince doesn’t want. ROH? WWE minor league, just maybe?

      Then you have the indy scene. If there is anybody that considers themselves talent reading this, please pay attention. No one else will tell you these things. They all have something to  lose.

         When the word professional is used to describe a person, that means that person GETS PAID. I actually don’t blame all the underqualified, should have never seen a rasslin ring kids, never making a dime truly following a dream. Any man that doesn”t dream is dead. I blame the scam artists that don’t know a wrist watch from a wrist lock for all the pitiful talent in the rasslin world. The con artists have realized kids that have no business being near a rasslin ring are better money makers than any ticket buyer could ever possibly be for them. WHERE I DO BLAME THE MARK TALENT.. WAKE THE FUCK UP>>>If this trainer to the stars has ever rassled more than a few hours from Podunk. If this trainer can’t be found in this day and time on a real rasslin show, just how connected or knowledable can he be?

       If you as talent are good enough to be booked, you as talent are good enough to be paid. So why do you guys agree to show up in a rasslin building with no guarantee? All you do is insure that not only will you NEVER get a fair payday, you screw everyone else in rasslin. And if someone older says they never worked without a guarantee..a) they’re lying through their teeth or b) they never worked anywhere worth working. Either one of those ideas rasie a few questions? If the promoter has nothing to lose, why should he book better talent?  And since that snake eats it’s own tail, why would talent look to improve?

      We have all been screwed on a payday by some worthless fuckhead. The moment any talent says the screwing is just fine, that talent should be kicked straight in the nuts. Exactly why would you chance your future for NOTHING in return? How many shows and promoters that work out like that actually lead to something better? It’s not just fine to get screwed out of your payday. Their was a time a promoter like that got his ass handed to him, but not in this pussy world. And when guys take his next booking, all they do is say thank you for breaking it all off in my ass. May I have another please?

      No doubt there are good promoters. But what kind of ego takes over a man to the point that he expects other men will work for bullshit and a smile? The kind of ego that can bullshit talent with the loyalty speil. NOTE TO DUMBASS TALENT>>>>LOYALTY IS BOUGHT IN THE REAL WORLD. You have never been, or will you ever be again, loyal without some sort of physical, emotional, or spiritual payoff. A promise to get you a “try-out” with TNA, when they don’t do many try-outs, how does that inspire loyalty? Working for free in front a hundred people in a city of 2 million, in a gimmick that lets me laugh at you, how does that inspire loyalty? I mean, do you ever actually get inside the door at TNA? When you aren’t hauling the ring for free?

    Short side note. The NWA is dead. There are maybe a dozen men in my surrounding states that have even a slight clue on the NWA once was. So…why would anyone pay fees to help keep others in stale beer and passe snap button shirts?  These fees get you what in return???? The best and worst about this? The smart marks are working the conmen. Wouldn’t those fees be better spent on talent? Or renting a building with running water for the talent you do book?

       Well, if my bookings last until then, maybe I’ll see a few folks that will be glad to tell me how wrong I am. Looking forward to crossing paths with a couple of loudmouths. After 28+ years in 20+ countries, in all 50 states for the AWA, WWF, and THE REAL NWA, I can say it has been real. I can say it has been fun. And on occasion, it has been real fun. Now, it’s time for me to take better care of my family. The new family and the blood relations. It’s time to walk away before I lose complete use of my left arm.

I came in my way. Going out my way. See ya somewhere

Dick Murdoch and Terry Funk would ride together to all the towns in the Amarillo territory. Murdoch was a bad driver, and Terry was a wreck a week type driver. The way the roads ran back then, they could make a right into whatever county Canyon belongs to, off one of the main highways. It was a T intersection and the county line was just past the right turn.

There was a constable that knew these two would drive thru late at night, drunk, throwing bottles and cans at passing cars, and just generaly being drunk redneck kids. The law dog would try and catch them before the intersection, but Funk always owned a muscle car that could outrun an old cop car a few miles. Out in West Texas in the late 60′s, the cops didn’t have much more than a radio. So Funk and Murdoch were safe playing this game. Until one night it had rained a little, and Funk had one over the recommended adult beverage limit. Funk went to make the turn, and between the rain, the beer, and Funk, they ended up in the ditch, still in the constable’s county. As they were crawling out the ditch, the deputy was standing over them with his rifle aimed at them. Funk kept daring the deputy to shoot. Murdoch kept begging him not to shoot. The dispatcher kept coming on the radio telling the radio only to shoot if he was in danger, back up was on the way. This went on until backup arrived and Funk and Murdoch were taken to jail. This all took place on a Saturday night, and when these two didn’t show up for Sunday cooking, both mom’s starting asking questions. Funk Sr didn’t know anything, because Funk and Dick were too scared to call and tell him the story. Funk Sr figured they were somewhere sleeping Saturday off, and they’d be seen again Monday. Funk Sr calmed both mom’s down, and went on about life. When Funk and Dick didn’t make the Monday town, Funk Sr started searching for these two on Tuesday morning. And they were in the first place he looked. County jail. Some fines, some community service(1970 style)later, and they were free and clear. Best part took place a few weeks later.

Dick was sitting on his porch drinking beer and listening to a ball game when Funk pulled up in his truck, towing a UHaul. Funk got of his truck wearing a dress. Dick was sure Funk was losing it. And after he heard the plan, Dick was convinced.
The deputy that arrested them was having a family reunion at one of the local parks. Funk was determined to break up the reunion, and he had a plan. Funk was carrying a motorcycle in the UHaul and he had a women’s wig on the front seat. Funk was going to ride the cycle thru the reunion and tear everything up. The deputy would never know it was Funk because of the wig and the dress. Funk put the wig on, and told Dick all he had to do was drive the truck, and lock Terry up in the UHaul when Funk came back up out of the park. The police would be looking for some crazy woman on a cycle, not a truck and UHaul.

Dick gave in, and Funk did exactly what he said. He rode the cycle thru the pack, tearing down volleyball nets and spitting dirt in the food he couldn’t reach. Funk rode the bike up into the trailer, Dick locked him in and headed towards Canyon. When the deputy and a few other cars passed, Dick u turned and went into Amarillo. Dick left the trailer and truck in Steve Stack’s gas station and walked around for about half an hour. When he figured it was safe, Dick let Funk out of the trailer, half drunk, with what was left of the beer in the cooler he swiped from the reunion.

First, James is a friend and I don’t want some shit stirring nimrod taking away from that fact with mindless bullshit. James and I don’t stay in touch like we should, but I know James is a friend. And I appreciate his kind words. Second, this is my site, and I can explain the rasslin bidness without being told how wrong I am by some panty sniffer that hasn’t left the house since the first Reagan administration. I have no problem with a differing opinion. I have a HUGE problem being told what I lived by someone who knows better because they can subscribe to the scandal rags and buy/burn pirate copies of shoot videos  .

James mentioned me as one of a few that makes a living off indy rasslin. And I did until early 2009. I did this by knowing all the promoters and staying in constant contact with them. I not only went overseas time and time again, I booked many of the tours. I know a man that always did the job for 6 years with the WWF isn’t supposed to be that smart, but oh well. I wasn’t supposed to walk again either, but that’s in my book.

James writes about being a road warrior and giving my life to the rasslin bidness. James is so right. I can remember James just shaking his head at me when he’d hear how many miles I put in since the last time we saw each other. Not looking for any sympathy here, because I made adult decisions, but I can’t begin to tell you how much I missed with family. I have no idea how many pieces of my body and soul I left behind in some ring in some Godforsaken town. When guys today on top fuss about 3-4 days a week in their schedule, I just shake my head and know how big a pussy it takes to bitch about 6 figure salaries in a short work week. I laugh IN the face of a man that bitches about his 3 hour drive home after his 1 show that month. 

2009 was the cutoff point for me. For a number of reasons. Almost like a convergence of circumstances and the final rotting out of the indy rasslin barrel. One of the posters in James thread talks about guys treating indy rasslin like a hobby. Well….do you really need to know more? More, as to why paydays have gone to hell on the indy scene? There are other reasons, but this attitude captures most of these reasons in a nutshell. Combine this attitude with rasslin schools pouring out even more hobbyists. Which creates the multiplicity theory I explain in my book. The schools create all the loudmouth cowards AND bullies that strangle off decent promoters. Add in physical limitations being realized, illness in my family, and then top all that off with two faced bastids showing their true colors after the only man that could get them accepted in the rasslin bidness did just that. Everything surrounding what I knew just became too much last year.

And even when I do make towns, I find out even once decent men like Ken Valiant get caught up in the shitty attitudes that have destroyed what was the rasslin bidness. When a guy that has been stand-up strong for 15 years goes south and takes the same low road as the bastids, there’s not much left.

Hopefully, with my return to college, I can do as my friend James mentions. Make what I can in the rasslin bidness a little while longer, and then leave with what little dignity I have left, with my head held high, knowing I did it my way for 30 years. 30 years in a business I was never completely accepted in, hell, 30 years in a business I loved, but should have never been in.

Simply because it is so fitting.

We as a civilized country could solve the argument over capital punishment in a few simple steps.
Once a person has been convicted of that capital crime, give that miscreant a choice.

They can have life in prison. And the only TV show they get, EVER, is THE Oprah. And a cyanide pill with breakfast every day.
OR, they can be strapped to a chair with one free arm, a never ending tape of the Miz’s finest WWE wrestling moments, and a cyanide tablet.

Before long, either way, that reprobate is swallowing.

And then, capital punishment has become a free choice, the state is free of the “ethics” of capital punishment, and Vince McMahon finds a way to actually make money off the Miz.

TNA fires the Nasty Boys, and there went my viewing pleasure right out the window. James E. Cornette threatens to throttle Vince Russo(which may not be such a bad idea) and gets a restraining order??? TNA needs attention that bad??0.2 ratings would say so……..

Gene Kiniski passes. While I knew Kelly and Nick much better, I was around Big Thunder a bit in St Louis. And met him a few more times here and there. Gene was the classic working heel, and that doesn’t mean early HHH. He could work. WORK. Something that has gone out of style. Anywhere, with anyone. Gene held the tag belts in Vince McMahon Sr land. Held the REAL AWA heavyweight title, the WWA title, and the REAL NWA title. I met a Gene Kiniski that was loud, always ribbing someone over something. Kiniski was always telling a story, and looking for another story to tell. Kiniski would have a cold one, and just laugh at the bullshit. RIP Big Thunder….

Me, Danielle, John Saxon

As far as the photo of Danielle humping my leg….I have nothing. Danielle always greets me that way. I have known Danielle and John Saxon a long time. John is another guy I helped along the way when I still had a full tank. And he’s done good, as they say in Mississippi.

I figure it is a Mississippi thing. First time I see my son Ethan do something similar, I’ll know for sure.

Wrestlemania 26. It was 26?? I pay no attention anymore. I knew there was only one match I wanted to see. And I wasn’t putting $50 in Vince’s pocket just to see how Shawn was heading back home to San Antonio.

I looked at the card, and nothing excited me. No Eugene. No Santino. No one really entertaining past Shawn and Taker. I keep looking for a refund on my cable bill per each Miz appearance. Anyway, here’s hoping Shawn enjoys the time off. Shawn may mean well, but he has been in love with the business since we were kids starving to death in places like Topeka, Ks. Somehow, I get the feeling we haven’t seen the last of Shawn.

Sidenote, and even more of a personal opinion than usual. I enjoyed Shawns sendoff more than Flair’s. Understated. Shawn admits to having been Shawn back in the day. Just a touch of class in a rather class deprived business.

Two Dancing Machines

My buddy Disco Inferno.

For all the grief Disco catches, I like the man. Part of that is as simple as it is complicated.

All of us are supposed to be born with some gland or bone that helps filter our brain to our mouth. On certain folks, they are either born filterless, or have the filter removed at a young age. 99% of the folks you meet like that are morons at best. Imbiciles at worse. But Disco is smart. Not smart enough to stay out of trouble with the law over a card game. But a few successful marriages later, who am I to judge a lapse in good sense?

Disco helped book at TNA for a while. And after talking with him and Raven, I have confirmed that TNA will never be an alternative to Vince. Remind me sometime..it takes a while.
We’re standing in front of the same bus, driven by the same man that was going to break out the Kung FU hustle on Disco our last tour.

Besides, how can I not like a guy I taught how to dance?

A little backstory on some of the events.

My kung fu buddy is one of the highly trained guards the ROK Army stations on the DMZ. These guys are supposed to be killing machines with their hands and feet. I would imagine the North Koreans have some similar version on their side of the walkway.

Anyway, they are there in case anything breaks out, such as the North Koreans trying to snatch a visiting dignitary through the north end doors of the conference room we’re standing in. Which has happened a few times in the past. The commie bastids walked away when I got near the north door?? I think they knew better.

The best part of this…..on the bus, Disco asking Bob Holly if he could take one of the kung fu killers in a shoot match. That conversation was almost as fun as the one Disco started with Billy Gunn about being over.