Sunday, January 11, 2004

In order to be the man, you gotta beat the man. Woooooo!

Well, I'm firmly into the weekend and feeling a lot better than any other time I have this week. Sure, I'm still nursing a bit of a cold, but all in all, I'm much more relaxed and just enjoying the numerous distractions that can be found inside my tasteless hovel.

But before I get into more inane banter, I give you this: Super Chicken! Somehow, this show's existence eluded me until last night, when Mr. O made me aware of the chickeny goodness. Then today, he really outdid himself by sending me a .WAV file of the Super Chicken theme (lyrics can be found at the above link). Hilarious. I have no idea about the quality of the show itself, but the premise slays me.

Also: I think this will be making it into my reading pile soon.

So, back to the banal goodness. If you've ever been a wrestling fan, you'll probably recognize that I started this post off with the classic Ric Flair catch-phrase. That is because I'm currently watching "The Nature Boy" take on "The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes on disc one of The Ultimate Ric Flair Collection, the most recent DVD collection from the WWE (which I picked up in part of a mini-spree today), and probably the most essential one they've released. Even though business is down for the McMahon Empire, they can still generate a ton of revenue because of the huge library that they own. This Ric Flair collection is (to my knowledge) the most extensive one they've released. It's three discs and contains just about every true classic that Ric Flair has been part of, packaged with the promos and storylines leading up to each match. It also has Flair giving his thoughts on the matches and the performers, providing some very intriguing insight. For younger wrestling fans who only know Flair from his more recent work in the WWE (mostly as a non-wrestler), this is a perfect view into why wrestling was able to survive as it evolved from smaller territories into the "sports entertainment" that it is today. And while Hulk Hogan and Hulkamania may have put wrestling into the mainstream spotlinght, Flair is unquestionably wrestling's legend nonpareil. (Well, American wrestling's, anyway.)

You know watching these older matches, it's a shame that the day of the wrestling fatman is over. With a few exceptions (Big Show, Rikishi, and Bubba Ray Dudley...am I missing anyone?), the current wrestling landscape (read: the WWE) is populated with mostly chiseled competitors. Now, I'm not asking for a return of the Uncle Elmer's and King Kong Bundy's of the past, but surely there's another Dusty Rhodes out there. Hell, if Ric Flair was coming around today, I'm not even sure he'd be able to make it, as Flair hasn't ever really been the super-cut Don Muraco or Paul Orndorff type (or for you modern wrestling folk, Triple H or Batista). Of course, that's more of a Vince McMahon trademark than an absolute trend. Personally, I'd rather have the classic booking and psychology of old paired with less than perfect physiques than this on-the-fly nonsense and high-spotting being put on by a bunch of Greek-god wannabes. But...that's a rant for another time.

The only other noteworthy item in today's binge is this. A couple of songs from this album are in True Crime: Streets of LA and quite surprisingly, they hold up well nearly 15 years later.

One last comment: thank you to M, who knit me a scarf last year that is paying off bigass dividends this year. Very effective in this ridiculously cold weather. I finally picked up some gloves, so now I'm actually well-protected against the Arctic conditions. Now spring can take its time if it wants.