This Day in Death

7.31.15: “Rowdy” Roddy Piper – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 4:24 pm August 5, 2015

ROWDY_RODDY_PIPERPiper, right, opting to leave his shirt on during extreme physical exercise. It’s a good look, and suddenly I don’t feel so alone for refusing to go topless in the pool at the YMCA. Hey, if we could all have hairless shoulders the world would be a very different place.

 

“Rowdy” Roddy Piper, WWE Hall of Famer and the last person named “Rod” not to go into gay porn, was found dead in his Hollywood home last week. Piper’s death is being reported as natural causes, which may sound unusual considering he was only 61, but in wrestling years that puts him in, like, his early 400s. Those guys have life expectancies that make medieval peasants look like Greek gods.

Technically cast as a villain among the pro wrestling personalities of the World Wrestling Federation (also known as the WWF and later the WWE), Piper’s charisma, over-the-top personality, and boundless energy made him a key pop culture figure. The WWE has named him as the greatest villain in wrestling history.

I’ve discussed my utter confusion about wrestling before, but one area that I’m completely into is the impossibly steep curve of insane stunts that the fans force the wrestling industry to climb as time goes by. Once your headline is that Seth Rollins just beat a man with an actual steel fucking ladder there’s no going back to the fundamentals. The industry could survive another 10,000 years and you’ll never see anyone talk about trying a back to basics approach that really emphasizes holds and good sportsmanship. You’ve crossed a one-way threshold. If you were to travel just five years into the future your brain probably couldn’t even acclimate to how much more psychotic the whole thing will have become in such a relatively brief time. By 2020 you’ll have guys with surgically-altered lizard faces cannonballing through brick walls and ripping out each others’ shoulder blades to use as oars with which to paddle themselves to safety, since it all takes place within a Plexiglass cage that is slowly filling up with hundreds of gallons of the performers’ own HGH-infused sweat. And that’ll be the undercard.

Just, you know… no blood. It really sends the wrong message about violence, and these are family-friendly events.

 

Source: Screenrant

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6.11.15: WWE Wrestler Dusty “The American Dream” Rhodes – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 10:33 pm June 12, 2015

DUSTY_RHODESRhodes’ “American dream” persona was an impassioned testimonial about how a regular working class joe, with perseverance and a rock solid work ethic, might someday get the chance to irreparably shatter his tibia falling twenty feet onto a pressboard table. That was always my favorite verse of America the Beautiful.

 

Look, I don’t understand professional wrestling. I’ve really tried, but I can never seem to figure out if I’m supposed to be disturbed or amused or baffled or a little turned on or what at any given time. One moment I’m watching a couple of greased-up beefcakes settle their differences by clotheslining each other, just as the Founding Fathers intended, and we’re all having a ball. It’s nothing but joy and laugher from the crowd while these guys dramatically shorten their lifespans for our entirely disposable entertainment. It’s absolutely absurd, and I think I get the satire, and I’m 100% on board. Then Brock Lesnar, the most terrifying man on the planet, walks out with a penis tattooed on his chest like he was the first one to fall asleep at the cruelest slumber party of all time, and I’m not supposed to laugh because this shit is serious all of a sudden. Well excuse me, but someone decided to decorate an emotionless monster like he was the Superman of Turkish bathhouses, I’m gonna get a titter out of that.

Or let’s take a look at the recently deceased Virgil Runnels, aka Dusty Rhodes, aka “The American Dream”:

DUSTY_RHODES_2

What the hell is even happening here? Are the polka dots supposed to represent some kind of evolutionary natural defense, like he can trigger your epilepsy as a last resort? Was he supposed to be a bumblebee and the tailor fucked up the pattern? Or is he a reverse leopard, with yellow spots on a black body? That last one would make a lot of sense aesthetically, since a pasty, lumbering biped with that kind of body weight distribution is pretty much the exact opposite of  the regal and lithe leopard, but is that really considered menacing? You know what wrestling uniform would really intimidate your opponent in the ring? A finely-cut Italian suit paired with a bold power tie. It screams, “Don’t mess with me, I’ve got money and privilege and can easily afford some pretty luxurious bedsheets!” Granted, it probably won’t breathe super well, but this is more of a psychological game you’re playing at now so I can’t imagine you’re gonna have to get all sweaty or anything.

 

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4.8.14: The Ultimate Warrior – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 6:01 am April 25, 2014

ULTIMATE_WARRIORFull disclosure: I accidentally merged my “Ultimate Warrior” folder with my “Tan Mom” folder, so I cannot in good conscious swear to the appropriateness of today’s image.

 

At this point I really shouldn’t need to remind you that I don’t like to bother with sports posts around here. Sorry, but if I cared that much about stats and scores I’d be paying a lot closer attention to where I fall in my family’s power rankings. I called bullshit on that noise two years ago when I only made fifth seed.

But considering that professional wrestling is technically only a sport in the same way that Power Wheels are technically cars, I’m gonna let it slide. Besides, it’s not often I get to break out the “bicep tassels” tag. So, it’s with broken hearts and breakable folding chairs that we mourn the death of James Hellwig, a.k.a. the Ultimate Warrior. Oh man! And we were so close to making “queer” into a verb!

“WWE is shocked and deeply saddened to learn of the passing of one of the most iconic WWE superstars ever, The Ultimate Warrior,” a statement read.

Warrior, born James Brian Hellwig, legally changed his name in 1993. The cause of his death was not mentioned.

Wait, he legally changed his name to Warrior? That’s a little grandiose, isn’t it? Honestly, I’m a little skeptical of this whole motif. I mean, come on… Ultimate Warrior? As in, like, the A-one, top warrior of them all? And it’s a guy with a chest slathered in Vicks VapoRub and hair like somebody put a Barbie doll in the dryer? That’s our most ultimate of warriors? …Well, alright then. Far be it from me to argue these kinds of points with a guy who must’ve owned literal crates of singlet deodorizer. I guess you can just step the hell off, Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, all of Sparta, and untold thousands of samurai; It looks like you’ve all been out-warriored by a guy who had his face painted neon like he was at a nine-year-old’s birthday party. You’re just gonna have to duke it out for the title of Penultimate Warrior, or possibly Ultimate Utility Combatant. Either one would still look pretty sweet spelled out in rhinestones on the back of a bathrobe, though.

Source: ABC News

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3.5.13: William Moody, aka Paul Bearer – DEAD!

Filed under: Uncategorized —James @ 10:28 pm March 7, 2013

PAUL_BEARERTim Burton’s WWE needs more Helena Bonham-Carter.

 

It’s time to spritz some Febreze onto your mourning singlet, because William “Paul Bearer” Moody, professional wrestling’s resident mortician and The Undertaker’s manager, is dead. Wait, why would you hire a mortician to manage your career? That seems like a conflict of interest. The late night talk show monologues would practically write themselves. I mean, I appreciate his wanting to keep a consistent theme going, but this just seems like a poorly executed professional decision from the normally thoughtful Undertaker. It’s like when I found out that Bret “Hitman” Hart wasn’t filing quarterly, despite the tax breaks he’d get as an independently contracted assassin. Jesus, man! You’re just causing undue tax season stress if you’re filing annually based on a 1099-MISC! The 1040-ES is made for you! Goddammit… It really hurts to find out your childhood heroes weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

“WWE is saddened to learn of the passing of William Moody, aka Paul Bearer,” the wrestling organization said on its website.

“Moody made his WWE debut in 1991 as the manager of The Undertaker and went on to become a memorable part of WWE over the course of the next 20 years,” the site said.

For his spooky character, Moody wore pasty makeup, carried an urn and spoke in a high-pitched wail. He made his last television appearance for WWE in April 2012, the organization said.

Alright, let’s stick our fists into the disgusting hopper that is the microblogosphere and see if we can pull out a new entry for our series of insincere tweets of mourning:

HOGAN_TWEETOkay, I’m prepared to assume that the lack of proper spacing after the commas is just general ignorance. He’s not a damn 4th grade English teacher, I’m letting that slide. Things don’t really get questionable until the end, when the Hulkster must’ve realized he was running dangerously short on characters and sure as shit wasn’t gonna burn *two* tweets on a guy he’s not entirely sure wasn’t just a ‘roid rage hallucination, so he just starts deleting words and punctuation altogether. What’s really interesting, though, is that he made sure to set two characters aside so that he could include his initials, despite the fact that his twitter handle is already @HulkHogan, the name on his profile is Hulk Hogan, and there’s a picture of Hulk Hogan staring right at you. Because there’s a time to grieve, and then there’s a time to grow your brand, brother.


Source: Yahoo!

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4.1.12: Guy Whose 14-Year-Old Cousin Got Him in a “Rear Naked Choke Hold” – DEAD! Wait, What?

Filed under: Dead —James @ 8:36 am April 13, 2012

Yes, “rear naked choke hold” was already in my Google Images search history. Why do you ask?

 

If you’re going to attempt something you watched a WWE star do you should limit yourself to relatively low-risk things, like wearing neon bicep tassels or marrying Brooke Hogan.  Or, at the very least, avoid anything that involves more than two of the words found in the phrase “rear naked choke hold.” Louisiana man Stephan Arceneaux never read that pamphlet at the community college, I guess.

According to St. Charles Parish Sheriff Greg Champagne, Arceneaux had gathered with friends at a home on Murray Hill Drive to watch the pay-per-view event “Wrestlemania 28” on television when he and a 14-year-old cousin began to wrestle on an inflated mattress on the floor. The juvenile, who is 5 feet, 6 inches tall and weighs 110 pounds, placed his arm around the neck of Arceneaux, who was 5 feet, 10 inches tall and weighed 220 pounds, in a move commonly known as a “rear naked choke hold” for 30 to 40 seconds.

Witnesses reported that Arceneaux said he would not give up or “tap out.”

FUCK NO HE DIDN’T. It would’ve made his Tapout shirt painfully ironic, and that’s the kinda East Coast elitist literary device that don’t fly in the bayou. No, down there allegory and synecdoche rule the day, motherfucker!

But at some point, someone noticed that Arceneaux was turning blue and told the youngster to release the hold. When he did, witnesses realized that Arceneaux had stopped breathing and dialed 911, shortly after 10 p.m.

Well, we’ve all learned a lesson here: It’s never a good idea to try to imitate professional wrestling moves. Except for the Bushwacker Walk. That’s just classy. It’s how my father walked down the aisle, you know.

 

Source: Nola.com

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