Gnashed Teeth

Along with the invention of inflatable teenage love dolls and 'moral obligation' bonds, big time wrestling will be remembered as one of the great achievements of our civilization. Big time wrestling is the most relevant sport known to mankind: in no other arena will you find the issues of our time being resolved before your very eyes. Racism, witchcraft, obesity, detente and the energy crisis all work their way into this most realistic of sports.

But for the moment let's forget all this theoretical crap and get down to the interesting stuff. There are a lot of evil minded gossip mongers--some of whom, you might be interested to know, are paid by foreign governments for their troubles--who claim that America's professional wrestlers are a bunch of beer-bellied longshoremen too washed up to take on any other work. Well, my friends, let's put that myth to rest right now. The men and women in big time wrestling are the most superbly conditioned athletes in the world. This fact may be ascertained in any technical manual on human biology, and has been documented by the Defense Department's classified file on manpower emergencies. You might not think that the McGuire twins, Billie and Bennie (whose combined weight exceeds 1300 pounds, and who have to wear custom built undershorts to keep their stomachs from banging against their knees) would be much in the speed department, but recent tests performed at a Utah laboratory prove that they are the equal of any Olympic sprinter in speed and agility.

America was humiliated at the Munich Olympics when Chris Taylor, the 400-plus pound lug who had flopped his way into America's heart, was torn to pieces by a sneaky little Russian half his weight (it is no coincidence that late August-early September is marked by historians as the time that detente turned in the Russians' favor); but Chris Taylor is nothing compared to America's greatest Wrestlers. He hasn't even been able to break into the top ten contenders list for the west coast, which is the easiest of all the professional wrestling conferences. The likes of Man Mountain Mike or Pedro Morales could easily win the Olympic wrestling medal--or any other Olympic medal, for that matter! It is a fair bet, in my opinion, that a dozen or so big time wrestlers could win the World Series, the Super Bowl, or any of the other titles in those other boring, unrealistic sports.

Racism Buffs: Does heredity influence one's position in life? Some say yes, some say no, but it is an undeniable fact that big time wrestling boasts a disproportionate number of Kings, Princes and other noblemen. Lord Al Hays, Sir Dudley Clements, Lord James Blears, and a dozen others have actually served or are predicted to serve in England's House of Lords. The Great Mephisto and The Shiek, both prominent leaders in the Middle East, have brought to the sport that touch of subtlety and mystique associated with their native land.

Some say big time wrestling is fake, but as any half serious student of the sport can tell you, it is highly scientific. Many holds, such as Tarzan Tyler's atomic skullcrusher and the Mongolian Stompers' "claw", rely on the findings of the likes of Einstein. Others, such as George The Animal Steel's heart stopper, could not be applied without an intimate knowledge of biology. Although this is a little known fact, many former astronauts--who are among the smartest and most scientific men in America--are now professional wrestlers under assumed names.

Those of you who have read this far are very lucky, for I am now going to reveal to you a fact unknown to dozens of the nation's cleverest political pundits. About 15 years ago there was a chunk of malicious fat which managed to waddle its way out of the central scrublands of Georgia. Its name: Crusher Blackwell, all 572 pounds of it. Crusher used to make a fool of himself in front of television cameras by singing ridiculous little jungles like "Jingle bells, jingle bells, I'm gonna stomp Sammartino's head flat." Often he would forget these pathetic rhymes when he was only half way through them. Blackwell was unpopular from his first bout onwards, but despite his unpopularity he drew enormous crowds and was therefore able to charge an enormous price for performing. He retired to Plains, Ga., to raises peanuts. That was about ten years ago. Well, in this bicentennial year, peanuts and Plains, Ga., ring a bell? Damn right it does: that's Jimmy Carter's occupation and home town. A coincidence? Hardly. Crusher's friends admit that he has lost more than four hundred pounds, shaved his beard, and dyed his hair blond. But they say you can still tell him by his smile. Figure it out for yourselves, my friends.