W.W.W. featuring Jim Cornette and Sgt. Slaughter

On Wednesdays, we here at LOL, Wresslin' like to really pull out the stops and offer up a double shot of righteously killer content. Why Wednesday? Well, we could impress you with market research, work habit studies, and human psychology tendencies to show you there's a scientific reason the middle of the week is the best time to bring your A-game. However, truth be told, we don't have any of that stuff and settled on Wednesday because that was the only day that didn't have any content scheduled.

So, here you have "Watch Wresslin' Wednesdays." Please feel free to suggest a better title, because we are woefully uncreative when it comes to naming stuff.

Better at naming stuff than us

The idea of W.W.W. is we each send the other a video that is related to wrestling (a match, promo, interview, guest starring spot, etc.). The only restriction is that it cannot be user-created, so your "Monday Night Raw intro w/ TNA wrestlers" a'int going to fly here, pal. Neither of us know what kind of video we're going to get that day.

After viewing, we each write a response. This could be anything we choose: a straight commentary, a philosophical enlightenment, or classless ridicule. Just as we don't know what kind of video the other will select, neither do we know what the other will write or how they will write it. What you end up with is a mash-up of styles, which in our book equates to two-blogs-in-one, and we can take the rest of the day off.

Adam's video to Matt - Jim Cornette vs. the Drive-Thru

In Adam's infinite wisdom, he gave me a video that couldn't be embedded in this fair blog of ours. I could find a way to get it on the site, or I could say, "It's less than two minutes, so watch it yourself" and then provide a link. So, just watch it yourself here.

Matt's response...

Jim Cornette is fat.

Image from Cracked.com, which pretty much inspires us every day.

I guess I could stop there, but I won't, because that's not really what this post is about. And actually, sure, he's a little chubby, but it's not like he's ordering twenty burgers for himself; it's for the boys, who've spent a lot of time on the road, so no big deal.

I suppose there are different ways to go on this one, such as the stresses of road life, or the unhinged nature of those in the wrestling business, or the genius of Jericho getting this on film. All worthy candidates, none of which I'm going to touch.

No, I'm going to focus on the other side of this equation: the Drive-Thru. The fast food restaurant is not only a permanent fixture of our culture these days, it's a permanent pain in the ass. The whole system seems to designed to take people who couldn't give a shit less about you or anyone else and put them in direct contact with you and your food. It's like if you were paying Pigpen from Peanuts to wash your car - things just aren't going to turn out right because he clearly doesn't give a damn.

I visited a Wendy's a couple weeks ago, and I'm not here to kid you, they got every item wrong. EVERY. PIECE. OF. FOOD. IN. MY. ORDER. This, of course, after a lengthy (didn't have to be if they would have just shut-up) conversation at the intercom, in which I carefully explained everything, and then they repeated it back to me. And, before you start to think I was being picky, I added cheese to a burger, shredded cheddar to a baked potato, and a side of ranch to some buffalo wings. Not out of the ordinary and not all that much. But none of it was accomplished.

Add to that the fact that this was in the middle of a downpour, and they don't have the courtesy to erect an awning over their intercom or window. I was ready to commit crime.

That cheese hording strumpet.

Also, living in Texas, I've had lots of experience with the staff at Dairy Queen, which is sort of the fast food version of the Special Olympics. So, Cornette, I feel you man. I really do. Sure, there are better ways to handle the situation, but really, what's the fun in that??

I suppose you could have avoided calling the girl at the window a "C-U-Next-Tuesday," but if you're going to go that route, go strong. Don't wuss out mid-word. Nice work.

Matt's video to Adam- Sgt. Slaughter throws fireball at Hulk Hogan



Adam's response...

Wow! What a peculiar, retro video! How did Matthew ever think to find such an obscure piece of WWE history? Could it be that G.I. Joe just opened up to $100 million dollars this weekend? Or what about Sgt. Slaughter guest hosting Raw this last Monday? Seriously dude. What did you do? Type "current events" into Google?

Hmm..maybe not..

Yes, so 16 seconds into this bad boy and things already are awesome. Mean Gene is always good for a chuckle around these parts, and I admittedly popped a little bit when he said that "Hulkamania and millions of Hulkamaniacs were in effect, raped." Now I know this is the part where you expect me to run wild with this. Maybe run a photo of some supple young boy with a funny LOL (I was thinking either "rayp viktum" or "he wuz asskin 4 ti")? Well, I'm not going to do that, you perverts! Sex offender laws preclude me from doing that.


Much more seriously though, Sgt. Slaughter has magic powers. Real actual magic. He was able to control fire, much like Wheeler from Captain Planet. How else do you explain the fact that he had a fireball ready to go the second Hulk Hogan opened his dressing room door? You actually think he just stood there with a lighter and some flash paper, and was given a prompt when Hulk would open it? That's just silly!

Now General Adan is a different story. He was ineffective, and it kind of explains why Desert Storm was so inconsequential. Granted, I know that on earth-53 a steel chair is a WMD. But he didn't hand Sgt. Slaughter a steel chair. It was more of a plastic chair. Like those folding chairs you see at garden parties. What's that? What's a garden party? I'm sorry, I sometimes forget that you LOLiacs are not as important and fancy as I am. Since I am an important and fancy, I have attended numerous garden parties. Essentially, it's a cook out for high brow folks like myself.

Above: Me and a young lady at "Garden Party Double-O-Seven"

In conclusion, Sgt Slaughter accosts Hogan with the chair and screams "Slaughter rules!" ad nausea. Then he makes sure to look into the camera and scream "I rule", as if "Slaughter rules!" was too subtle. Camera man goes boom on his bottom. Now his bottoms big. And Mean Gene takes us home with that insatiable mouth of his. But what are these unfathomable rules that Sgt Slaughter has now instituted? I took the time machine back to Wrestlemania VII to ask around.

1. Fireballs are now legal
2. Holding the belt means you are champion
3. Yo Joe!