Monday, September 13, 2010

Dragon*Con 2010 - Part 3 - DCW!


Right around this time one week ago I was chanting my throat raw for Mickey Rourke to hit Muffin Top in the face with a cow bell. Why can’t every Friday be like that?
You’ll not that the tone of this recap is pretty mean-spirited and derogatory. That’s all for show and how we enjoy DCW. If you ask any one of the crew I roll with how we really feel about DCW and its talent, we’ll all tell you we love those guys and what they do every year with all of our hearts. We know it and the wrestlers know it and that’s part of what makes it so amazing. None of us really mean it.
(Except for Gnoll, who really hurt Not Rhyno’s feelings. What a dick.)
But fuck that pussy shit. Let’s talk about these homos pretending to beat each other up.

Also, I have got to start remembering to have people get pictures of me when I’m all masked up. I looked fucking good Friday night.
And looking that good, I headed to the Hyatt Centennial Ballroom II-III to attend the high point of every year’s Dragon*Con: the wrestling. I still don’t quite understand why there is wrestling every year, but I am thankful for it. Even though I don’t care about The Real Beautiful Sport as much as I used to, it is still a blast to get that close and personal with it live.
The usual crew was already in our regular spot when I arrived and gave me a heartwarming greeting as I approached. I sat down, dug into the beer bag and settled in to enjoy some indie jobbers beating the snot out of each other for our entertainment.
There were no Hall of Fame inductions this year, but the two fat rednecks that run the wrestling every year called out another fat redneck called Icehouse (I think he’s related to Ponderosa and Swedenhouse) that usually wrestles. He came out with this girl in tiny, cellulite-highlighting booty shorts that probably accepted food stamps to come to the ring with him. 
The two promoters had a plaque for Icehouse that we were pretty sure was going to end up broken over his head; but it never happened. They actually genuinely thanked him for all of his time and effort and asked for applause for the butterball. What a bunch of buttholes.
Now that that tear-jerking bullshit was out of the way, it was time for the real stuff.
Our first real match was Spider-POW! and Slow Damon versus Sprinkle Genie and the Angry Glove, who actually looked like a wrestler so was sticking out like a sore thumb. I thought Spider-POW!’s partner was going to be the fat douche in the stupid pants, but I guess that was just his life partner (this speculation was later verified by Hoffman’s observation that the POW! on the back of Spider-POW!’s trunks stood for Penis Or Weiner). Sprinkle Genie shot a load of glitter straight into Evil’s face while he was making his entrance. 
Also of note is the fact that the hiney-baring girl from earlier in the day was accompanying Sprinkle Genie to the ring in a failed attempt to make him look less gay. 
It would take a MARTA bus full of naked Vampirella cosplayers walking out with that guy to convince me he might not consider putting a cock in his mouth.
So anyway, these four guys that weren’t good enough to have singles matches fought. The Angry Glove dove over the top rope at some point, then Spider-POW! rolled somebody up for the pin. I can’t believe any of those suckasses won.
Next up was Seanbaby talking. 
I think he might have been in the wrong place, because his grammar and charisma were of a caliber that far exceeded anything we should have seen at DCW. I don’t even remember what he said other than yelling about elves sucking. I can’t really argue that. After he was done, some guys fought.
This match was a little different, in that it was terrible. Not like, enjoyable to watch jobbers terrible; just terrible. It was a handicap match that was clearly meant to prove one guy didn’t suck as badly as he did. The guy was Double Golden Sperm, aka Not Rhyno, aka Might Actually Be Rhyno; and he was fighting Needledick and Flameblower.
This is where things got ugly. Gnoll yelled, “Rhyno sucks!” at Double Golden Sperm and he got really sad (Sperm, not Gnoll) to the point where I speculated it might actually be Rhyno and Gnoll had hurt his feelings. Whatever the case, Rhyno sucks and that guy sucked so he really shouldn’t have gotten so upset. I think Needledick won with a Flying Squirrel. No, wait. Might Actually Be Rhyno won with a GORE! GORE! GORE! Seriously. I remember that because it’s the first time I thought my voice gave out.
Yellow Flamer and Muffin Top versus Shop Teacher and MICKEY ROURKE (!)
I cannot possibly do the experience of seeing this match live and in person justice, but I am certainly by God gonna try.
Yellow Flamer and Muffin Top deserve no explanation. They are a couple of cock-gobbling doofuses.
Shop Teacher, well, I didn’t even realize he was part of the match until about halfway through because his tag team partner was the greatest DCW wrestler of all time: MICKEY ROURKE (!). 
You must understand – MICKEY ROURKE (!) was so phenomenal that I can’t even talk shit about him. You hear time and again that old bit about Ric Flair having a five-star match with a broom, right? Fuck Ric Flair. MICKEY ROURKE (!) could have had a five-star match with himself. That man was lightning in a bottle and everything else surrounding this match was purely peripheral. Yellow Flamer and Muffin Top clearly sucked, but Shop Teacher might have actually been kind of good – it just didn’t matter. The second MICKEY ROURKE (!) stepped into the ring, the shit was CRAZY GO NUTS.
There were moves and stuff, but let’s get straight to the finish:
And lo, Mickey Rourke drew forth from the heavens a golden cowbell; and he thusly proceed to wallop The Yellow Flamer wrathfully about the head and shoulders with said divine object. The Yellow Flamer cowered from Mickey Rourke’s magnificently righteous anger and ran from the field of battle, never to be seen again until the battle royal at the end of the night.
MICKEY ROURKE (!) was proclaimed the winner by all who bore witness, and Shop Teacher was permitted to bask in his glory, as well.
The cowbell move, by the way, was prompted by our chants of “Needs more cowbell; clap-clap, clap-clap-clap (we were actually clapping, not saying “clap”). We started every single chant that night.
The next match was for the Tag Team Dragon Cup. It featured Slim J (this is his actual name. Well, his actual wrestling name – he’s actually very good and has earned a respite from mockery by being at every DCW for as long as I can remember) and Cypress Bill (who I think actually were the winners last year) defending against two guys who weren’t even exciting enough to take a picture of. They were managed by Bob Zombie.
I think Zombie’s guys won, but after the exhausting magnificence of MICKEY ROURKE (!) it really doesn’t matter.
Next was the match for the Singles Dragon Cup. The participants were so intriguing and skilled that I went and had my picture taken with the King of Naked, Awesome Austin Creed 
and Evil began what would come to be known as Goggle Quest 2010 (more on that later). While that was going on a greasy scumball known only as Jersey Shore won the cup.
Which brings me to the final match of the night:
The DCW Battle Royal For Cab Fare Home!
Featuring – Everybody!
From left to right: Yellow Flamer, Flameblower, Slow Damon, Juggalo Pants (Spider-POW!’s life partner), The Angry Glove, Puking Robert Smith, Needledick, Wrong Said Fred, Might Actually Be Rhyno, TANK (who I do not remember at all) and Muffin Top.
There were more; like the Cream Lantern, Shop Teacher, Sizzle Twist and the Indietaker. They all fought valiantly, if by “valiantly” you mean “didn’t fucking matter until MICKEY ROURKE (!) came back out and whooped the shit out of everybody”.
Just look at Hazel Molehill’s reaction to MICKEY ROURKE (!) using his magical golden cowbell to make everybody burst into showers of cocaine:
Which he then snorted off of this girl’s ass:
Fucking awesome. Then some black guy ran out of the audience and tried to attack MICKEY ROURKE (!), but MICKEY ROURKE (!) tore his shirt off, cured his halitosis and turned him into a swan.
Shop Teacher and MICKEY ROURKE (!)’s Wife came out to celebrate afterwards and everybody stuck around for photos. Oh, and Gnoll went WHISKEY INSANE-O!
Here’s a bit of a DCW side story:
This kid and his dad were sitting next to Darth Pete. Apparently the kid asked Darth Pete who I was and asked if he should come over and talk to me. Naturally, Darth Pete sent him over and this totally happened:
Kid - “Are you famous?”
Monkey – “This guy is famous among us.”
Crazy Chick – “He’s very famous with the 8 people sitting here!”
Me – “I’m huge with these people.”
Kid – “Are you wrestling tonight?”
Me – “Uh, no. I’ve got, uh… a bad ankle.”
Kid – “Oh, that’s too bad. Can you sign my badge?”
Now at this point, I had two choices. I could try to explain that I was just some guy in a mask or I could just smile and sign his badge. I’m sure you can guess which one I chose.
After getting his “Phantom Troublemaker” signature, the kid went back to his seat. I was pleased to have enhanced his night, even if it was under somewhat false pretenses; and didn’t give it much more thought until he came back several beers later.
Kid – “Can you sign this page, too?”
(hands me a piece of paper)
Me – “Okay, but only if I can put a sketch on it, too.”
Kid – “Wow! Okay!”
And I totally redrew the Tim Sale sketch I had gotten earlier in the day. I mean, not as Sale-ish or anything; but that’s basically what he got. I made that kid’s night.


For all you stupid motherfuckers who say wrestling is fake and doesn’t hurt, this is what those poor chumps were slamming into all night:
This was by far the best DCW ever and I cannot wait for next year.


 Until next time, stay creepy

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