http://ultimatewarrior.com/051403.htm

Hello warriors. Again, great emails...

On the road, so a short, recreational post today getting at a bit
of `rassling news that's around...

Well now, it's getting harder to be surprised. "Who's next?" has
less to do with that unprincipled sellout Goldberg the WWE is
hanging its pragmatic hopes on than it does with who's next in
taking their last breath.

I got a ton of requests to comment on the deaths of Elizabeth and
Curt Henning. Both times I heard the news I did some looking around.
Lot of sorry, phony despondency is what I found. Iron stomach that I
have, by the time I quit scouting the polluted wrestling-related
internet, it had me nauseous. There are parts of the internet that
really are just a gob of unctuous patheticness. All the little
gossipy sites and their sprinkly, irritating pop-up adds -- To laugh
is to puke. Do these people have any serious interests? Like, having
a life outside their 100 sq. ft bedrooms?

The best worm-eaten line I read was something Road Warrior Animal
said. Looking forward to his 4th or 5th serving of McMahon poop-pie
after toughly swearing each successive time Hawk and he would never
be back, Animal said he was "glad morals are coming back into the
business." Earth to Ani...ah, forget it. Whoever is looking for a
serious, Starship Enterprise hook-up needs to get with Animal
because he's got to be smoking or injecting the best stuff there is -
- that line is simply from another friggin' planet.

Morals are coming back? He must be confusing PAX with WWE to ease
his shame about bowing and bending over at the altar of
McMahon...again...again...and again. Hey Joe, don't feel too bad,
it's only begging. Since when were morals synonymous with born-
agains (Hawk! and him? born-again) behaving like hypocrites? Here we
go one more time -- a born-again's piety being used as an excuse
instead of an empowerment. Born-agains who don't should be outraged.
Where's Pastor Michaels when you need him? Oh, that's right he's one
of their ilk, too. I mean, even Bret Hart, a guy who recently paid a
very close to visit to the Almighty, doesn't believe Michaels has
truly seen the light, ergo, doesn't believe Michaels -- what more
evidence do we need to have? If Bret thinks so, who are we to
disagree? That would be like arguing with God, wouldn't it? You
experts figure it out...

A few words about the death of Elizabeth.

I knew the Elizabeth the whole world knew -- she was Randy's wife.
Few talent -- if that many -- ever got closer to her than that while
they were married. Randy was very protective of her and did not
allow a line leading to over-friendly contact. And, believe me, the
lines Randy drew never had slack in them. He knew full-well too many
talent in the business had no scruples so he never subjected his
beloved to the chance. Let there be no mistake -- wound up as
the "Macho" element of Randy's life was, when it came to his
marriage he was disciplined and controlled, had class and respected
it traditionally.

I admired the way he handled their relationship and found it really
heartwarming. In fact, that genuineness of their relationship is
what made the work-ed parts work so well.

I spent a lot of time with Randy during the time of their separation
and ultimately their divorce. Most of it in the hallways and locker
rooms of coliseums; we were on the road, working our program
together. Randy is meticulously tough but it really tested his
spirit.

Elizabeth was at WCW in 1998 when I was there. I found out enough to
know this: The best parts of her life were when she was with Randy
and her regret that that was no more would never leave her. Hogan
and his wife (and McMahon) can be thanked, and cursed, for that;
planting ideas in her head that she was missing out on some
magnificent untamed life adventure.

A little life advice: The grass is more times than not never greener
on the other side. And it will be too late to jump back once you
realize it was just a field full of weeds.

My thoughts go out to Randy, a first class act with a huge heart --
one that few ever got to see. Never will I forget that I did. There
are some life experiences we can move beyond but never truly get
over. For Randy and Elizabeth, I suspect, being married to one
another was an instance falling into that category.

Thinking positive for you Randy -- Stay Strong. Time heals all
wounds.

That said specifically about the death of Elizabeth and my
condolences extended to Randy -- I just can't find it in myself to
have any sympathy for adults who are irresponsible, stupid or afraid
to grow up.

It hurts me more that young kids, who have not yet had the chance in
life to test their own free will, go to bed hungry or are subject to
some form of adult abuse. I don't apologize for how my mind works on
this issue. Neither do I care who I offend. Adult people wanting to
choose actions that may lead to their own death, let 'em.

For more thorough thought read these: here and here. I spoke at
length some time ago about DRUGS, GROWING UP, and CONSEQUENCES when
Davey Boy died. Controversial to some, clear in their own right,
these posts are great reads if you have the courage.

BTW, did they ever solve that murder mystery surrounding Davey's
Death?

Luger. Sorry and sad all over. There is nothing more inexcusable and
unmanly than beating a woman. Between Elizabeth and he things were
not good. Elizabeth now dead, things for Luger really look bad.

Has anyone checked to see if there is a blinking neon 24 hour
pharmacy sign attached to the side of his house? Don't. It's no use.
ALL the drugs were his and we ALL know it. Luger is walking
bowlegged in "NO MAN" land. A land where his balls are shrunken up
inside him and his skull is going Cro-Magnon. An existence where a
grown adult man can find no self-worth in himself beyond his pills
and his physique. A place where skinny people hallucinogenically
resemble hypodermic needles filled with GH and fat people become the
next high calorie meal. A place...ahem -- sorry about that, having a
UW moment.

Seriously folks, making the personal choice to remain on anabolics
et al without the goal of being in the ring or using the physique to
succeed is patent Freudian lunacy. Taking the juice just to be the
big guy at the gym who looks super in the tight shirt is very, very
shallow.

Christ man, people have got to get on board with growing up here --
what the hell is going on with people's thinking?

I just can't comprehend how men who make careers of their physical
prowess get to a place where they think like that...

If I continued to have to have an everyday physique like that of my
ring physique just to maintain self-esteem, I'd be a pathetic human.
One who should only be so lucky to find himself dead in a dirty
gutter so as to put an end to the misery of waking up everyday.

I DID IT. I don't have to prove my physicality to anybody. I bested
them all. Luger doesn't have anything to prove anymore. HE DID IT.
He built one of the best physiques the SE industry ever saw. He
succeeded in the business. Now move on.

I used to laugh at bodybuilders I knew years ago who ridiculed
Arnold when he first showed up in his movies physically smaller than
his champion bodybuilding days. It was funny how they couldn't see
that he used his bodybuilding success to succeed at other things.
Like, because his physique wasn't competition ready he was failing
somehow. I can still go out to Gold's Gym in Santa Monica and find
guys that were out there 20 years ago still hanging out in the gym
all day long and don't make a dime off it, and now they've convinced
themselves there's nothing else they can do. So what, they look
great in their gym clothes! We don't need more 40-50-60 year old
fruitcakes running around in spandex -- without goals, without
purpose -- without a life!

Today, not out in the ring, if some always-in-a-size-small-tanktop-
legless-moron wants to stupidly challenge me about my lighter
bodyweight of 235-45 compared to my 275-85 lb ready to hit the ring
physique, I get real close and let them know very quickly "if what
UW did is the standard you are judging by, don't forget I'm the one
that f'ing set it. Until you reach it, and from the look of things
we can all tell you never will, I strongly suggest you scurry off
and pester someone who gives a rat's ass what you think -- you
understand?"

The point isn't that you surrender or retire your overdrive gear.
The self-discipline is always there to make all the punks look like
anorexics. It just means my manliness doesn't come from maintaining
an in-the-ring physique.

Luger thinks his manliness does. That is deplorable and he is sorely
mistaken.

Let me add this: No champion in anything athletic or otherwise
becomes a champion because of drugs. It's a f'ing joke to believe
otherwise. A loser's joke concocted by those who don't have what it
takes to succeed at anything; people who are failures even at waking
up each day. Incredible hard work, incredible foke and incredible
self-discipline is what it to be a champion. Luger and a ton of
others need to get a better grip on this. Luger needs to have more
confidence in knowing it so he can get his Cro-magnon head out of
his ass and move beyond the ring if no more opportunities are there.
Others need to know that taking all the drugs in the world won't
make you a champion if you don't have the real stuff it takes.

As long as Luger refuses to put it in that perspective, and he keeps
irrationally believing otherwise, as it so seems...well, the guy's
got one whole leg in the grave, and I'll say what others are
thinking -- he should've gone to the morgue, not Elizabeth. Chances
are better than great anyway that whatever she found herself into
Luger was her tutor and supplier.

When Henning died many stepped forward to talk about how funny he
was. I found it funny that none of his immediate friends or
colleagues stepped forward to add that he was obviously very, very
stupid and disturbed, as well. A forty-four year old family man with
a wife and 3-4 kids depending on him, sprawled out on a budget hotel
room bed OD'ed on cocaine is very stupid and irresponsible. I wonder
if he still got charged for the room.

Wrestling in front of 200 people after you have had a successful
career wrestling in front of tens of thousands is not love for the
business. It's idiocy and says something very serious about the lack
of character and rational self-esteem a grown-up man does not have.

A young kid wanting to live out his dream can have legitimate
reasons for doing so; a mature grown man, especially one with a
family, can't. And that he rationalizes some, simply forecasts an
irresponsible heading toward a train wreck.

Henning's life was that train wreck getting ready to happen and
others saw it. Yet nobody was friend enough to step in. I guess
that's why they say with friends like that who needs enemies, and
why after Curt turned up DOA all his friends could come up with
was: "Curt was funny. Boy, he was funny."

Curt made the choice to end up dead instead of the choice to grow
up. He was ok with it. I'm ok with it.

Our streets and neighborhoods just don't need more adults
(especially males) who are irresponsible and afraid to grow up.
Whatever works toward that goal we should embrace, including quick,
bloodless, deadly self-destruction. Man, that's heelish isn't it? Aw
shucks, my mind's eyes say leave it in...

Callous? Outrageous? Maybe. But then again I may just be offended,
myself, because I'm thinking about protecting my own kids growing up
in a world where sympathy for low-life behaviors is promoted more
than the necessary seriousness we need to have about the conduct of
our own lives and the judgments we must make regarding the conduct
of others.

Decent, thinking and truly caring people in this country have gone
to such bend-over-backwards extremes in tolerating hateful,
egregious subhuman actions, the least I can do as a adult man with a
chest big enough is brazenly put forward extreme thoughts. Anyone
with a problem in tolerating those can do a hell of a lot more than
kiss my ass.

There are a lot of whoremongering informants wondering what it all
means that still-young former talent are regularly found in a state
of rigor mortis and how do we stop it and how sick you all are of
it. Like you really care...give me a break. You people aren't even
good at your cons...

Let me first assure you, at almost 44 years of age, I'm not buying
into the voodoo jinx of it all -- in fact, I dare the grim reaper to
take me before I finish this post -- come on you ugly bastard --
STOP MY CLOCK! Just try it! I spit in your face -- oh, forgot to
take my pills and do my cocaine. Damn, I knew there was a trick to
it... and a swig of whiskey to wash it down ought to set a somber
tone for dying that is just right...

Hey I told you -- I won't be an easy kill. Death will have to work
hard to take me.

My wholesome warrior suggestion is that you quit being hypocrites
and stop patronizing the industry, entirely. People who choose death
will end up dead. I know that statement is absolutely brilliant on
my part -- still the same, don't let its beauty have you overlook
its truth. People will do what they are hell-bent on doing and no
amount of sympathetic pleading is going to change that. Quit giving
it your energies. Sit back and enjoy the deathwatch. Expending
effort at the sake of using it for things productive to your own
lives is stupid and irresponsible all by itself (without the high to
fallaciously enjoy it).

Truth is -- while you keep patronizing the industry you feed the
debauchery, and even the death. See the patronage as the death knell
to talent. Come on, you have to know you're participating in the
killing and just laughing silly all the way to the morgue. And, let
me enlighten you and be more bold, come out of my shell a little
here, even chance offending people unlike how I have tried very hard
not to do up till now -- WWE needs the debauchery and death.

Yes, I know, I know, you're flabbergasted. Can't believe I said it.
Is he serious or kidding? Only the Warriorman knows.

But they do and we all know it...

For a couple of reasons. One, it lessens the headaches over what to
do with used-up talent begging to be kept on the payroll for life.
And it's a quick, non-litigious way to get rid of done-for talent
who have their sights set on becoming sycophantic agents (these guys
can't afford drugs so they never die). Unlikely to admit it, this
selective elimination is a convenience I'm sure WWE would like to be
able to depend on. Odds of that are getting better, you have to
agree.

Two, and most importantly, the debauchery and death makes them stand
out from the ubiquitous cultural degeneracy. It's competitive out
there and the provocative envelope has been pushed so far it's
inside out. What else depraved to do? You have to do something
specially sick to get attention these days. The drug-induced deaths
of former superstars are better scripts than even if a bunch of
junkie necrophiliacs were writing the stories.

Nobody in the WWE cares. And guess what? They aren't obliged to. The
person least likely to say it, I must. It takes a lot of effort not
to feel sorry for Vince sometimes. He really does have to deal with
a ton of pathetic personalities. Guys with no real guts, just fake
ones. Guys who don't have any principles, no personal self-worth or
power. Guys who won't stand up for anything. Of course, these kinds
of character traits are prerequisites today to be qualified to work
for the McMahons. And they never go out of style. In fact, It is
very clear some previous generation guys have bottomless pits
capable of swallowing loads of their own rancid pride and plenty of
Vince's s#%&. Still, juggling all the human deficiency must be
tiring.

The house that the McMahons built has always been filled with rooms
minus mirrors (ask Hogan who still believes he has hair, and
creativity, worth keeping). Too many have fooled themselves into
believing they never noticed instead of what has long been true --
their own faces are the faces they most fear seeing.

Ask any never-made-a-dime-off-the-talents-I've-delusionally-
convinced-myself-I-have-from-the-privacy-of-my-own-bedroom pundits.
They know -- they live there. It's the address of their meal ticket.
Like cockroaches on counter crumbs, they come out at dark -- the
dark of debauchery and death.

Parasites they are on bodies alive; maggots they are on the
carcasses of the dead.

Crying and criticizing. Condemning and condoning.

Debauchery and death. Late night punditry thrives on it.

They cheer most loudly for the cowards and degenerates to keep from
hearing their own voices screaming back the same disgusting truths
about themselves.

Life is not having it both ways. Death awaits all who try to find a
way around that.

Who are you? What are you about? What are you willing to put up
with? What are you willing to do? Ask yourself.

Time's up, got to run...

Till we meet up this wrestling aisle again, my Warrior mind keeps
growing outside the ring. Better than those discussed herein --
Always unafraid and unembarrassed to tell it. You are welcome. Your
Founding Father of ring intensity, Warrior