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Pro Wrestling Smackaround!

20 Jul

July 20, 2014

Good evening everybody and welcome to Wrestling World Congress Smackaround! I’m S. Sterling Samuels and we’re in beautiful downtown Compton for tonight’s show. Let’s welcome in my partner Paul Bunyon Jr!

Give me that mic, time to let a real man talk! We’ve got a great show for you tonight. We’re starting off hot with a title match- Sean “The Irish Taliban” O’Reilly will be taking on The Dismangler and this ought to be a good one!

That’s right Paul. The Dismangler has had his sights set on The Irish Taliban since he stole The Dismangler’s lucky horse shoe.

After that it’s a tag match with Biff and Tad, The Preppy Punks.

Yeah, tonight they’re fighting Iron Moose Johnson and Refrigerator Raymond, and Biff has promised that after the match, Moose is getting a makeover.

You don’t want to miss that! And speaking of don’t miss matches, we’ve got a match coming up with a really unusual stipulation.

This has been a long time coming, the bad blood between these two goes all the way back to last year’s pay per view, WWC Wrestling Implosion! Shakespeare Romeo is taking on The Diamond Ninja in a loser gets deported match.

Yes, and there’s some controversy here since The Diamond Ninja was born in Illinois. If he gets deported, where is he going to go? He’ll be a man without a country!

Later tonight Ace Rocker takes on El Hijo De Tuna, but first, let’s go to the ring for our first match. It’s a rematch from their famous 2013 bout, the Thrilla in Akron. It’s Ghetto Rodney vs. Muttonchops McFly in a loser buys dinner for life match!  Fans, let’s go to the action!

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An Imponderable Tale of Animal Poop

14 Jul

July 14, 2014

Recently, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo aired this episode:

synopsis

Yes, that actually says “Alana tries to find out who’s not flushing the toilet.” Just when you think TV can’t get worse, here comes Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.

But who am I to complain? More people watch those hillbilly creeps than read my blog, so maybe they have something there. And regular readers of this blog know that I’ve done more than my fair share of posts about toilets (put “toilet” in the search box above and see what I mean) so who am I to act all stuck up?

It has been some time since I pandered to the lowest common denominator. It has been about two weeks since The [CENSORED] From China, and it doesn’t get much lower than that.

Hey we all poop. Everyone poops! I poop, you poop, Lois Lerner poops and then denies it, even former Canadian Prime Minister Sir Charles Tupper (May 1896-July 1896) pooped, and he was quite the distinguished personage.

So take this as a warning, your last chance to look away and surf the web for porn, before I jump into my true tale of a mysterious public poop.

_____________________________

The Hound of the Poopervilles.

There is a giant dog haunting the moors surrounding my ancient family estate the parking garage at the Company I Am employed by. I’ve never seen it and as far as I can tell no one has, but we know he’s there nonetheless. It is a feeling we get, a strange sense of something, a primal knowledge that all humans seem to share in times of danger.

But mostly we just see giant piles of shit in the parking lot.

Really, it seems more like a dinosaur took a dump than a dog. A passing stegosaurus maybe, but a dog? No way. Not even your lazy dogs that just eat all day could work up a pyramid like that.

“Dogs in a private parking lot? Must be a guard dog.” I’m sure that’s what you are thinking but no, we have no guard dogs here.  And while this parking lot is underneath my building, it is only partially underground. Using logic that is totally unnecessary for this silliness, that means that it is also partially above ground. Three of the sides are open to a gently sloping hill which leads up into the surrounding neighborhood, with only a short fence to provide what laughably passes as protection. Add that to the two entrance and exit ramps which only have a single bar to keep cars out, and animals not at all, and you can see how easy it is for some large dog to slip in.

Car thieves too, I’d guess.

Anyway, is there some huge neighborhood mastiff that likes to poop in the shade leaving giant piles around here?  And they are always in the same place, on the walkway just outside the east entrance and placed almost perfectly to step in. And they stink like you wouldn’t believe.

This is a job for better minds than me. I’m calling in Alana from Honey Boo Boo. She has experience with poop mysteries.

pooperville

In London.

12 Jul

July 12, 2014

It was a not-so-rare night in the city. Dark and cloudy, no moon, no stars.

And no houselights, gas lights, or headlights.

This was London. It was World War II. And Lt. Russ Wyndham was being followed.

The man tailing Wyndham wasn’t doing too good a job at it. Even in the near-total blackness, he did such a poor job of hiding that Wyndham couldn’t help but be aware of him, and the noise he made gave him away with nearly every footstep.

Lt. Wyndham wasn’t expecting to be followed and didn’t know what to do. He was just over from the US, attached to military intelligence more because of family connections than any skill or capability. Pearl Harbor had just been attacked and Wyndham had enlisted, not out of any sense of patriotism or duty, but because he smelled the chance to get away from a messy affair with a married woman and an unwanted baby. His family was rich enough, and thoroughly arrogant enough, that if their youngest scion had to ditch his lover and illegitimate child, they’d be damned if he was going to do it as some enlisted grunt digging ditches.

Wyndham’s tail knocked over a garbage can, and the noise was so loud that, against wartime regulations, several blackout curtains were pulled aside, flooding the street with light as nervous men and women looked out to see what was going on. Wyndham could no longer pretend to be unaware of the tail, especially as the short and somewhat fat man following him was now illuminated from nearly all directions.

Both men were panicked. In Wyndham the panic manifested as paralysis. He didn’t know what to do, where to go, what to do, to run, to hide, to run to panic to scream to hide to yell to cry to-

The other man’s panic caused him to stand in his spot as well, but he was shaking, oh how was he shaking, he was afraid, so afraid, so very afraid of the man in the uniform ahead of him, what’s he going to do he’s seen me he’s looking at me why are all these people looking at me why can’t they shut the windows I could hide in the dark I’m afraid of the man afraid of the man afraid of the man with the gun the gun the gun he pulled a gun and-

-and in full view of the exactly six witnesses peeking around the curtains, the man who would one day have “Private Investigator” printed on his office window  fired a gun for the first time outside of basic training and murdered a man.

It would be many years before Hollywood Russell knew why he was being followed, but in only a few days Lt. Russ Wyndham would face a court-martial.

in London

 

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