This week’s induction is going to be on the lean side due to a last-minute change of plans.
See, up until last night, my plan was to induct the low-budget film, “Florida Bush League Wrestling”, a mockumentary made around 2000 that some distributor appears to have bought the rights to and then smothered with a laugh track.
Think about that: Documentaries don’t have laugh tracks.
Mockumentaries don’t have laugh tracks.
Films in general don’t have laugh tracks.
This movie has a laugh track.
And it’s a real shame, too, because the movie underneath it all actually seems pretty amusing, with solid performances and deadpan humor. Yet I don’t get to decide for myself whether a line like, “Wrestling is like my family” is worthy of a chuckle or was even intended to be funny in the first place. Instead I, the viewer, am bombarded with hysterical fits of canned laughter.
But, still, I can’t very well churn out a thousand words or more about a stupid laugh track and an otherwise okay movie.
What’s also a shame is that now I don’t have an occasion to share other low-budget film-related anecdotes, like the time my filmmaker friend Chris LaMartina auditioned Nikolai Volkoff for the role of a janitor but had to pass after Nikolai proved incapable of reading a script correctly.
He would say things like, “Puts down mop” and “Mumble mumble” right out loud.
(By the way, Chris is crowdfunding a sequel to his modern-day cult classic, “WNUF Halloween Special”, so if you drop him a few bucks, tell him Art O’Donnell sent you! He’ll have no idea what that means, as that’s not my real name)
With “Bush League” off the table, I needed something short and unquestionably Wrestlecrap to write up on short notice. A quick look at my Downloads folder reminded me that I’d been sitting on something called the “Raw Sewage Match” for months now. Here was a match that was literally crappy!
And figuratively garbage.
So as I was saying, this induction is going to be a short one – or at least it was going to be until I wrote that whole long intro.
The Raw Sewage match was put on by XPW on June 29th of 2002 and was enough to make Jerry Seinfeld break his vomit-free streak again.
XPW, if you’ll recall, was the ECW wannabe promotion run by pornographers that tried to crash Heat Wave 2000.
XPW hosted its share of former ECW talent after the Philly promotion closed up shop, but watching this match, it’s hard to believe anyone from the Land of Extreme would want anything to do with this impostor promotion.
Patrick Henry certainly would have had a problem with his famous quote being used to promote a match built around chucking one’s opponent into human excrement.
Held at the Pico Rivera – or should I say, Fecal Rivera – Sports Arena, the bout began as an intergender handicap match between the team of porn star Veronica Caine and GQ Money, the wrestling rapist…
…and their opponent, Angel, whose gimmick was that he was gay.
See? He wore pink PJs. He entered to “Barbie Girl”. He danced effeminately. He did an inward-flipping senton called, “The Bathhouse Bomb”.
After an exchange of chair shots early in the match that saw Angel temporarily incapacitated, Veronica took the opportunity to perform her lewd take on the People’s Elbow…
…running the ropes before dropping trou and jamming her crotch into Angel’s face, which the homosexual wrestler sold violently.
Sensing Angel was in trouble, Lizzy Borden – porn star and co-owner of XPW – came down to ringside to even up the sides.
The Woman of Forty Whacks had apparently been injured in a beatdown by the heel faction but, proving she had more guts than brains, she couldn’t resist inserting herself into a match with kiddie pools full of poop and a rapist.
Things went about as well as you’d expect, as GQ Money quickly pounced on Lizzy, pantsing her and undoing his zipper for – and this isn’t some edgy name for his finishing move or anything – an “attempted rape”.
XPW: So bad, it’s good it went out of business.
Luckily, Angel, bleeding from the head after what one announcer called (and I quote) an “apparent chair shot”, came to just in time to make the save.
Veronica then took down Angel with some lucha moves.
Some apparent lucha moves.
Angel would DDT his female opponent…
…but in a shocking move, XPW Television champion Kaos runs in to take away Veronica. “Shocking” because I can’t believe this promotion actually did have a TV show in the Los Angeles market.
Fellow heel Steve Rizzono then lugged in a bucket of what the announcers henceforth refer to exclusively as “poo-poo”.
Remember, this is XPW, where the X stood for “Xtreme”.
While the interfering heel contingent hoisted one of the poop tubs into the ring…
…Lizzy apparently flung crap at Veronica, which the intrepid camera crew did not pick up (with their cameras).
Lizzy then brushed her own hair back with the same hand.
All the “poo-poo” flying everywhere led one announcer to exclaim, “This is like a Gallagher concert!”
I think he meant GG Allin.
In the meantime, GQ Money headed toward the entrance way and revealed yet another tub of human waste, this one stacked up on tables.
GQ Money started climbing into the empty, empty stands for no apparent reason, clearly determined to ascend to the top of a ladder and… well, I don’t know what his end game could possibly have been, besides taking a very high bump into a vat of feces. Like, Angel wasn’t incapacitated or set up on a table or nothin’.
In fact, he obligingly followed GQ Money up to the very high place for the sole purpose of pulling off some kind of stunt together.
It takes a special performer to show a total disregard for logic and realism just to set up a spot.
And it takes a very stupid wrestler like Angel to, instead of just shoving, throwing, or slamming his opponent 30 feet onto the ground (via a pool of crap), perform a sidewalk slam off the balcony. That way, he could break his tailbone *and* fall into raw sewage, rather than do neither of those things.
Anything to please the hundreds of fans in attendance at the 90% empty stadium.
“Angel… has a mouth fulla poop!” said one commentator.
Just thank the wrestling gods these guys weren’t handling announcing duties for Hell in a Cell. “As God is my witness, he is broken in half,” this ain’t.
The women tried stripping each other, with one of them gaining the upper hand: the blond one with the large breasts and the white t-shirt and the sneakers and the black pants with the stripe running down the legs and who did porn.
Uh… Lizzy. The one without elbow pads.
Veronica retaliated by heaving a bucket full of dung at Lizzy…
…which the referee of course took instead.
Soon, Lizzy – or Veronica? Whichever one still had a shirt on – shoved her opponent backwards into the dreaded pool of poop.
And again, all the commentators of this ultraviolent hardcore promotion had to offer was a bunch of references to “poo-poo”. In the same match that featured rape, this edgy organization wouldn’t even allow the word, “shit” for fearing of crossing a line.
Even RD allows me to say, “shit”. At least I think he allows me to say, “shit”. If in two weeks Justin Henry is writing an induction instead of me, assume the answer is no.
Lizzy then picked up a handful of crap and held it up high like Rafiki holding up Simba in The Lion King…
…before flinging it like baboons do in real life.
“This is yucky! This is yucky!” said the announcer.
Remember a while back when I wrote about Professional Gay Wrestling and its over-the-top prissy announcer? Montgomery Minks has nothing on these guys.
Steve Rizzono took a towel and tried wiping the fecal matter off Veronica…
…much like JJ Dillon did for Tully Blanchard at Starrcade ’86, except with fecal matter.
Kaos chokeslammed Veronica into the dung pile…
…at which point the referee, who had regained his senses after his poop bath, saw Lizzy in the brown stuff and declared Veronica the winner, as this was apparently a first-in-the-crap-loses deal.
Wa he just going to ignore the fact that both Angel and GQ Money landed in a tub of crap already? Or did that not count because they fell in at the same time? Or was this match contested under elimination rules?
At least the Raw Sewage Match was over and the world could rest assured that scat and pornography would never, ever mix again.