by Jeb Tennyson Lund
OnlineOnslaught.com/CitizenScholar.net

Jeb: Zzzzzzzzzzzz.
(Gets poked in the ribs with a broom handle from offstage.)

Jeb: Zzzz—cack! Spuh! (snorts) Wha—? Raw? Who? It's Wednesday? I have to write a column, again? Already? You mean I slept through Tuesday and Wednesday? Lucky for me I was crafty enough to already be unemployed.

Take that, QuickStop Corporation!

As the earth foolishly spins itself toward yet another Thursday, I find myself pretty excited about what Smackdown! has in store. But you don't want to hear about that. It was some long theoretical diatribe about relative measures of "over-ness" and the thickness of instant pudding. Screw that. Instead, I'm going to drag out a few thoughts that have been collecting in the dustier corners of my brain. Call this my homage to ESPN.com Page 2's Bill Simmons.


The Ramblings
• Do you ever get the feeling that RVD sits backstage thinking to himself, "If I just appear more stoned and wooden, I'm gonna be the next Keanu"?

• You know the episode where Flanders is taking the Simpson children to be baptized, and Homer says to himself, "To figure out where Flanders is, I have to think like Flanders"? Then he says, "I'm a stupid moron and I wear the same sweater everyday and—THE RIVER!" Don't you wish you could do this?

• Does Trish Stratus really think she looks good in that Male Porn Star cowboy hat? And what's with the jacket-cape thing? Is she Countess Canuckula?

• I want Tiger Woods and Bryant Gumbel to face off in a two-out-of-three-falls match (with Rodney Mack as the guest referee) to determine who is the whitest African American in the world. Robin Givens can crown the winner.

• One of these days, someone needs to replace Triple H's sledgehammer with a giant, limp, floppy rubber one. He'll reach for it under the apron — have that moment of sheer unadulterated panic — then have to run at his opponent, holding the base with one hand and the "metal" end with the other... with the long handle sagging in between. Or someone could just replace the sledge with a huge dildo. I'm still undecided on this one.

• And how come Triple H wrapping his hands around the end of the hammer and then hitting his opponent doesn't cause him to shatter his hand? Really, thanks so much for developing a "signature" weapon that you can't ever actually use in a remotely realistic way. Why not get a chainsaw and not turn it on? Why not get an axe and then hit people in the head with the side of the blade, instead of the edge? How about an ice-pick with a racquetball jammed on the end? It makes about much sense, Paul.

• To make Big League Chew authentic, there really ought to be a "decayed gums" flavor. Each pack should come with a cartoon illustrating how to deliver a congratulatory swat to the ass of a male teammate.

• Follow-up: why does the apex of male athletic celebration involve spraying another shirtless guy with alcohol, patting his bottom, hugging, kissing him on the head and saying, "I love this guy"? Toss in some fresh strawberries, an Enya CD and tone everything down and isn't this something Cosmopolitan tells women to do to rekindle the sex in a marriage? Really, shouldn't these guys repeatedly punch each other in the face and devour hunks of raw meat instead?

• Just once, I would like to see wrestlers gathered around a TV set backstage, watching the events unfolding in the ring — then see a jobber pick up the remote and start flipping channels.

• Is it me, or does Terri Runnels look more and more like a kind of chimp every week?

• Has anyone else seen this TNT "Drama" promo where Arnold Szzwchärztkenekegger talks about how "De drama of Toiwminator Tree is dat man is victim to de machine. And, as actor, I hab to becomm de machine"? Does anyone else think that he actually believes that he's becoming a machine?

• If there is any truth at all to Billy Gunn's entrance theme, why is it that Rikishi isn't his valet?

• If wrestling is going to become more real, here's what I want to see. One wrestler stands in the ring and cuts a stellar promo on his opponent. Then a camera catches up with the opponent backstage, standing in front of a cinderblock wall. The opponent cuts an equally great promo. Then the guy in the ring says, "Why don't you meet me in the ring then, right now?" And the other guy says, "Look, I need to go to the bathroom, all right? You caught me on the way to the bathroom." Then he walks into a bathroom not ten feet away. It could work on Raw.

• On a related note, Die Hard would have been ten times cooler if — on top of having to smoke a pack of Galouise, not having many bullets and having a cut in his foot — John Maclane was busy peeing when Hans buzzed him on the walkie talkie.

• Enough of this steel cage already. Where is the cage of straw and the cage of wood? You know the Dudleys would have a field day in the latter. You could even bring back the Godwinns for the Cage of Straw. That, and Lawler would have something to chew on between diva appearances on the show.

• One of the unsung benefits of having an apartment full of 20-year-old meth dealers in your apartment complex is the occasional familial problems they suffer. Two nights ago, I got to watch some tremendously white little scrub wearing a wifebeater, walking around the root-knotted ground below my apartment, explaining to his father the intricate and troubling dynamics of their family. Imagine a 5'6" 140-pound John Cena walking in circles, occasionally stumbling and saying, "Pops... Pops! A'ight.... No, no. What's w'ich-y'all? No.... That ma'fucka. Look, alls I gots to say is moms.... You gonna be lettin' me finish? Pops! Look, that—sheeeit. Alls...." It was funny for the first five minutes. For the next 15 it was kind of annoying. But by minute 35, it was a work of art.

• If Rico ever starts selling Rico Brand Restorative Facial Mud Packs and Age-Defying Creme, I think Bischoff should try to buy it on the sly. I could spend weeks watching Bischoff trying to "meet his connection." When he finally gets a hold of some, though, I think Terri should beat the hell out of him and steal it.

• Do you ever get the sense that watching Scott Keith and Chris Hyatte play chess with each other would be just like watching Larry and Curly hang pictures in the wealthy dowager's mansion? Then Dave Meltzer could come in and slap them both, saying, "Why, you wise-guys!"

• You know, when RVD was trying to get Kane to lighten up, he should have replaced all the pyro in the turnbuckles with those springed novelty snakes that usually come in those fake jars of nuts. (Think about it: Kane whips his arms down — POP! — novelty snakes everywhere!) Either that, or Folger's Crystals. That would have made for the most giggle-ravaged stoner promo of all time. "Kane... grrrrngh nghh... I secretly replaced—my, my stomach hurts... sknnnsssgghh—all your pyro with... Folger's Crystals. Bwaaa! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Plus, the arena would have the rich scent of freshly ignited coffee.

• Lillian Garcia isn't nearly pretty enough to get away with being such a colossal choke-artist. "Here is your winner... Kevin Test!" is just the latest in years and years of half-witted mistakes. Can't Howard Finkel throw her to the current equivalent of Three Minute Warning and have her powerbombed so hard it breaks her contract?

• What the hell is going on with Proactive Children? My half-brother is nearly eight, and he has a more packed schedule than I do. If I weren't living with my fiancee, he would probably have more "play-dates" than I do. Plus, I'm now convinced that he can defecate according to a schedule. What's going to happen when these kids reach the age of 18 and realize they've never spent an afternoon throwing rocks at stuff and stomping bugs? Sometimes these kids make me think of that episode where Bart winds up on Focusin™ and tutoring the foreign exchange student:
Bart: So, why did Humpty Dumpty have a great fall?
Foreign Student: Um... because he took his eyes off the prize?
Bart: That's right. You stay on the ball, you stay on the wall.

• I bet Linda McMahon can make pretty X-treme homemade beef jerky.

• Whenever Triples H, Naitch and Chipper Orton decide to get a fourth member for Evolution, I hope it's someone that none of them respects — just some gopher who's good for taking a few bumps. For weeks, he can tag after them, begging to be put in their entrance video. When they do finally include him, it should be a badly PhotoShopped still image of the guy — about half the size of everyone in the frame. Instead of walking with them, the still image would just bob up and down after them. That, and whatever his real name is, they should ignore it and call him "Sparky." This will make me love Evolution. I swear it. None of them would have to job for a year: I could coast on the laughter.

• If Stone Cold Steve Austin doesn't at some point use that long big-assed Raw entrance ramp for a bowling contest, then there is no God.

• Is Christina Aguilera on an Ugly fitness program? Four years ago she was a cute girl with cheeks; now she's a skull with some perforations in it. I get the feeling that with all this fast living she's been doing, in five years, she's going to look like Billy Drago. You know who I'm talking about: the guy who played Frank Nitti in The Untouchables, the villain in The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. and that weird West Virginian witchcraft guy in an X-Files episode who kept writing "Theef" on the wall and making poultices for people. Billy Drago. Mark my words.

• One of these days Brock is going to be doing the pec-twitch and the arm-flex thing by the ring apron, jump up on it, lose his footing and fall backward. And on that day I will laugh and laugh and laugh.

• Who does Ralph Fiennes have to fuck to get an Oscar™?

• Rikishi's post-match dance stuff has had a good three-year run. Next time he goes to do it, he and two other people need to do that Chicken Dance that seems to be required at all WASP weddings. Wade Keller would explode — I mean, literally blow up — if he saw that. Then again, so would I.

• Reason #117 Why Real Life Will Never Be as Much Fun as WWF Smackdown II: Know Your Role:
In real life, I will never see Viscera, Test, X-Pac, Grandmaster Sexay and "The Load" Billy Gunn form a stable called "The Suck Nazis" and come to the ring doing the ballet entrance moves while "I'm An Assman" plays.

• I would pay fifty bucks to see a buffet segment on Smackdown! where Sable growls like a feral animal and eats about seven turkey legs at once, while Big Show daintily eats pickled ginger and soybeans with thin black-lacquered chopsticks. In the background, Tajiri could challenge everyone to a contest to see who can put more pieces of sushi in their mouth. Then Zach Gowen could hop in, without his prosthetic leg, serving champagne glasses on a tray. Fizzy wine everywhere! It's a schmozz!

• Who is this chinless guy on ESPNews? Is he Saturday Night Live actor Chris Parnell's dorky tries-too-hard little brother? "You want me on that wall! You need me on that wall." I need you to get a new line, you Habsburg-faced twerp.

• Okay, if the Undertaker runs the unofficial Wrestlers' Court, does Josh Matthews dress up in a tan jacket, a brown tie and a blonde wig and play Doug Llewellen? After the Undertaker makes a ruling, does Josh pull people aside and interview them? "You had a tough case, and Judge 'Taker had to make a tough decision. Do you think he was fair?" Even if this doesn't happen, I bet everyone beats up Matthews anyway. For no reason. Often.

• At this point, Test's motivation to be a good wrestler is so low that I'm willing to bet that he'd quit immediately if we could just manage to steal his page-a-day calender of daily affirmations.

• One of these days, when Triple H is in the middle of one of his long grunting promos, Jericho should just lean forward, stick his finger on the end of Triple H's schnozz and say, "poooooooke!" No one will know what to do.

• If Stephanie McMahon weighs about 140 lbs., then roasting her on a barbecue by an indirect heating method would take about 28 hours. Try the leg.
 

E-MAIL JEB LUND
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Jeb Tennyson Lund read about half of Bill Simmons's ESPN Page 2 archive, and the Ramblings format got stuck in his head. If he ripped off any jokes, it's entirely unintentional... and solely the product of reading 100 pages of material from the same guy.

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