“Hollywood, you call yourself the leader of the NWO? Don’t you know that half the guys in the NWO right now are shaking your hand, smiling in your face, and they wanna STAB YOU IN THE BACK AT A DROP OF A HAT! “– Randy “Macho Man” Savage, March 5, 1998
So here we are, damn near 10 years later, and Macho’s prophetic words come true again. Only replace “the NWO” with “your house” and “shaking your hand” with “giving you a handjob” and you’ve got yourself a surprise divorce.
According to an article in the St. Petersburg Times last Friday, you didn’t even know your wife had filed until a reporter called you.
“I’m kind of shocked,” you said. “You caught me off-guard. My wife has been in California for about three weeks. … Holy smokes. Wow, you just knocked the bottom out of me. … I just pulled over to the side of the road for five minutes to find out what was going on here.”
But now that you’ve got your bottom back under you, let’s face it: getting dumped by Macho, Kevin Hall and the lovely Miss Elizabeth is a far crueler fate than getting sold out by the washed-up piece of tavern trash you inexplicably married. And looked what happened to them – shit, half the Wolfpack is dead now! Karma’s a bitch. And still, not to be crass, but even Miss Elizabeth’s rotting four-year-old corpse has more sex appeal and personality than your soon-to-be-ex wife.
At least you still have some dignity. Not so for our buddy Ric Flair, who either invested the last of his WCW money in Botox, or somehow had a large vat of plastic erupt under the skin in his face. But that’s no big deal in the context of Flair’s recent crusade to get Mike Huckabee elected president (starts at about 2:30):
That’s right: our favorite cokehead, the limousine ridin’ jet-flying, kiss-stealing, wheelin’ dealin’ son of a gun, is spending his days campaigning for a guy who thinks abortions cause immigration and compares them to the Holocaust (abortions, not immigrants, but we haven’t even hit the first primary yet, much less Mississippi, so stay tuned).
So Hulkster, to borrow a phrase: Fuck it dude, let’s go bowling. To recap – adulterous necrophelia with your former tag-team partner’s dead wife is preferable to being with that soul-sucker Linda, and that’s STILL better than whatever the fuck it is Nature Boy is doing. So buck up, champ! Do some training, say some prayers, take some vitamins, believe in yourself – you’ll move on, you’ll win a few more belts, and I hear Stacy Kiebler is still available.
And Nature Boy: Maybe you can arrange a bat-shit-crazy competition between your man Huck and The Ultimate Warrior.
PS: I hear Warrior’s a conservative, too.