Wrestling Tanka - Set Six

[The Ragin' Bull]
Manny Fernandez
silenced all doubters with The
Flying Burrito.

Blue collar mustache, macho
rattail dyed blonde for some flash.
~~~~~~~
[Kiwi Mastermind]
Warlord Jonathon
Boyd's Commonwealth Army was
an expat's pipe dream.

Running around, condemning
earth salt Southerners as "Yanks".
~~~~~~~
[Hardcore]
A stiff chairshot to
the head - sure beats working at
Wal-Mart 'til you die.

Sad paralyzed vet greeters
sell the compassion angle.
~~~~~~~
[Minnesota Wrecking Crew]
I dreamt that I was
stretched by Gene Anderson; I
puked, then he hugged me.

His smell was thick with liquor
sweat and cigar tobacco.
~~~~~~~
[The Sheik #2]
The Original
Sheik strode into a drugstore,
bought seven pencils.

Pulling crisp dollars from a
brown wallet, no scene was caused.
~~~~~~~
[Road Journal]
The notebook full of
amounts spent on hotels, gas
and food brings sadness.

Often, it takes many miles
to dull the gloss of young dreams.
~~~~~~~
[Mazatlan]
Cheap heat in border
towns. Change thrown in the ring gets
divvied up fairly.

Dollars, quarters and pesos
passed around like aging whores.

Confederate Mack Issue 50 Hype!

You probably know the deal. $3.00 by mail or $3.50 by paypal (PO Box 569 Scottsville, VA 24590 or raven mack at earth link dot net). Always entertaining, never duplicating, half playa haitian, half expatriatic southern-american, zine nonsense. Issue 50 was all movie reviews done while imbibing alcohol, and it was accumulated over a couple of years, and when I first got it back, I hated it, but the feedback from those who held it in their own homes was that it was some funny shit. And I should probably stop drinking so much. Here's what's in that issue...

ALCOHOLIC MOVIE VIEWING THEMATIC ISSUE - it's an all double feature movie review while drinking alcohol issue.
MALT LIQUOR MOVIE REVIEW THEMATIC DOUBLE FEATURE - what started, watching Maximum Overdrive and Death Race 2000, drinking forties.
MILLER HIGH LIFE DOUBLE FEATURE MOVIE REVIEW THANG - this one is 40s of Miller champagne beer and watching Disco Godfather (starring Rudy Ray Moore) and Terminal Island (starring Magnum P.I.).
TWO MOVIES AND A TWELVE-PACK OF WHATEVER'S IN THE FRIDGE STILL - hodgepodge alcohol consumption and watching Deathsport (the "follow-up" to Death Race 2000) and Django (greatest western ever).
TRES LUCHADORES & MAS CERVEZA FOR PELICULA - thanks to the hook-up from Blockhead Dan, I was in the lucha flick mode, but I couldn't follow close enough through shitty VCR tracking, so I ended up watching some dollar store DVDs of Final Comedown (starring Billy Dee Williams when he was young and sexy) and Mitchell (starring Joe Don Baker when he was young and sexy).
TAKE THIS COCK AND FIGHT IT - late night bullshit watching Take This Job & Shove It and then Cockfighter, yet another visually beautiful Peckinpah serving
MISTERIOS EN LOS BERMUDES TAKE TWO - filled out the issue actually watching the Bermuda Santo, Blue Demon, & Mil Mascaras movie, which may be one of the greatest movies I've ever seen in my life.

Confederate Mack Issue 49 Hype!

Stupid stupid zine, but it'll make you shoot cum out your nose, laughing so hard. It is available for $3 by mailbox (PO Box 569, Scottsville, VA 24590) or for $3.50 by paypal (raven mack at earth link dot net). Here's the rundown of what's in this issue...

DELINQUENT THOUGHTS OF A THOUSAND MINDFRAMES - stream of conscious bits and pieces that I originally intended to make the whole issue of, but stopped about halfway through.
CONFEDERATE MACK MAILBAG - got a VERY interesting letter from someone, which made me proud that budding unabombers love me so much, because I don't want them to blow my fingers off.
SUBURBAN COMMUNITIES OF MINDFRAME - wrote for my friend's activist zine which a bunch of anti-WTO hippie anarchists read, and my piece is sort of designed to make them feel weird about how closed-minded their open-mindedness is.
DEAD MEN & JUNKYARDS - from the last issue of Carbon 14, about a funeral back home I went to and junkyards in general and why I love having brokedown shit in my yard.
OBSCENITY, POWER, & PSYCHOLOGICAL DARWINISM - sort of sprung from the Max Hardcore thread on some message board, about him, about pornography, government, and just generally how perverted we seem to be (not meaning perverted like pissing in girls mouths, but perverted in what we concern ourselves with.
WORKINGMAN 12/YANKEEFIED BOSSMAN 13 LIST - 12 good things with tangents and 13 shitty things with tangents, I love doing these things and it's usually the best insight into where my stupid mind is resting at at any given time.

Death Valley Driver Video Review #154 Hype!

DVDVR #154
A new DVDVR is up, with a nice write-up on great matches of the year, thus far, by Phil Schneider, who tricks me into wanting to watch wrestling yet again. I didn't do much in this one, as I've lost my smile of late. Wrestling seems too stupid, or too gay, or just not worth the effort. Just like hip hop needs a new Wu-Tang, wrestling needs a new Sabu. Or I need someone to mail me a Necro Butcher DVD.

Wrestling Tanka - Set Five

[CLAWHOLD! #2]
A black glove clamps tight
to a bloody forehead. The
fans cheer in dismay.

The heel's finisher tempts their
worst nightmares to become truth.
~~~~~~~
[Cauliflower Alley Cats]
Old workers say they
never watch RAW. Only their
TVs know for sure.

Aged carny hearts will always
patter for one last payday.
~~~~~~~
[The Bruiser]
Dick the Bruiser could
lick any wimp in the joint;
he drank up his beer.

Shoulders heavy with a chip
might mouth off, no more than once.
~~~~~~~
[Saito/Patera]
Wrestlers want their food;
stone sailing through fast food glass
shatters the night air.

Cops arrive, unaware of
the hefty fight awaiting.
~~~~~~~
[Captain Redneck]
Dick Murdoch could bump
like a pinball, be a real
goer in the ring.

Legit tough guy laying down
easy for the sake of show.
~~~~~~~
[Piper Promo]
How did Piper break
that bottle on his own head?
He just did, that's all.

Skills learned in barroom bets don't
need gimmicks nor trickery.
~~~~~~~
[WWC]
A cuspidor full
of cocaine made the trip to
Puerto Rico nice.

Jacked eyes watch for knife-wielding
fans while biting Colon's head.

Wrestling Tanka - Set Four

[Satanic Sullivan]
Sullivan's ink toss
stained Florida folks' sense of
family duty.

The Mulligan clan tried to
make things right: frontier justice.
~~~~~~~
[The Sheik]
The Sheik pointed up
at places we didn't like,
poking prejudice.

To ask if all Gods are one
is worse than a fireball.
~~~~~~~
[Gordon Solie's Voicebox]
Solie's cigarettes
gave his voice the raspy edge
of serious sports.

Regular belts of Smirnoff
vodka didn't hurt either.
~~~~~~~
[Ages]
Wild Red Berry would
never carry a cell phone;
The Missing Link would.

Text messaging match results
lacks the proper characters.
~~~~~~~
[MSG Streetfight]
I thrilled to Slaughter/
Sheik in MSG, rightly
so. Were you born yet?

Memories of physical
events can't be burned to disc.
~~~~~~~
[Terry Funk]
Funk's punches are like
Chinese calligraphy, bold
strokes of unique art.

His blood takes a watercourse
path south across facial scars.
~~~~~~~
[Indie Lament]
Hot dogs and soda
as a payday, four-hour drive
back: paying your dues.

Too much pop country drivel
on the FM radio.

Death Valley Driver Video Review #153 Hype!

DVDVR #153
Yeah, here's the most recent DVDVR, with a bunch of nonsensical rambling by me about working and workers and all that usual workingman hooha.

Wrestling Tanka - Set Three

[Russian Nightmare]
Nephew Nikita's
Communist clothesline was a
symbolic sickle.

Cold War waned as his baby
face turn grew - chicken or egg?
~~~~~~~
[Television Titles]
TV title belts
were old school infomercials,
meant to sell house shows.

If you can't win the belt in
fifteen minutes, try next week.
~~~~~~~
[Boy From NYC]
Raised by a gypsy,
Boogie kept his beard braided
and his hair unshorn.

A red Cadillac and a
custom trike kept him free, man.
~~~~~~~
[Strong Armed Tactics]
Tables set up for
arm wrestling challenges were
meant to get broken.

Delightful plunge into your
well of kayfabe destiny.
~~~~~~~
[Starrcade '83]
Piper/Valentine
chained like angry animals
'til grudges subside.

Atavastic savagery,
blood trickles into eardrum.
~~~~~~~
[Highspots]
Simple moonsaults pop
crowds - this is mistaken as
causing emotion.

Function abandoning form,
skills learned from cold VCRs.
~~~~~~~
[Memphis Mayhem]
Wildfire waits under
the ring, nursing Millers as
the night grows louder.

Peeing into cans before
Lawler gets the big beatdown.

Carbon 14 #27 Hype!

Carbon 14 website
There's a new issue of Carbon 14 that should be glossifying indie record store shelves soon enough, with the usual assortment of nonsense that they have. Gotta say I'm pretty proud to have a shitty column about demo derbies in the same magazine as an interview with Rudy Ray Moore. They will also start doing print reviews with the next issue, most likely with me doing that shit since I'm stupid enough to do so, so if you do some crappy zine or some shit like that, mail it to the fine folks at Carbon 14 and I'm sure I'll eventually get to see it and make fun of you.

Death Valley Driver Video Review #152 Hype!

DVDVR #152
I've been neglecting this blog, mostly because computers don't get my dick hard like they once did, especially when dressed in a sultry blog, but here's a link to an old DVDVR from a month or so back. I reviewed some TNA and waxed on Eddie Guerrero dying, making smarks think I was an uncaring asshole. Fuckin' people are too sensitive most of the time. And that's coming from a guy who puts fuckin' haiku on a blog.

MX-du Renga #2

funky stinkin' goat
makes the break for the pokeberry
purple mouth and fur

some folks cook pokeweed in pots
vinegar calming the taste

where the kitchen soothes
to understand its meaning
an apron's worn space

curving the waist of love dirt
filling emptying the sink

dishes stack three high
sunday morning quick clean-up
for scrambled egg pan

bloody mary celery
eases sunday to monday

greeting the morning
seven directions calling
days fill in my void

monday means work time mindframe
friday kicks in recklessness

waking and living
picking the food from chaos
can't cut what we use

the wholeness is the whole thing
and orbits are a constant

shot pool at orbitz
kids who were high school stars felt
uncomfortable

with the eight ball that gleaned
the felted path to pocket

snortin' rails and lines
my pockets turn inside out
sharing and it's gone

selfish minds sharing lines last
as long as money's easy

giving way to stars
what you are seeing right now
passed to past long gone

lightning zip zap flash anse
stand right now scream like lupo

superheroes dance
bright colors flash like spent bulbs
old worn underoos

pictures steal souls say old drunks
whose heritage is diseased

[Suzy, Paola, Dave, Raven... in no particular order of participation...poetry is stupid]

LOUNGE PLAYER: Tejas

ZZ Top is most widely known for their MTV-era synthesized mega-hit shit like "Legs" and "Sharp Dressed Man", but that shit got played out unless you wanna strut around like Jimmy Garvin in some sequined pants on a Saturday night. But that was my first exposure to ZZ Top, being I was a young buck back then. Holy fuck is the older shit better. Even their newer shit, like the last few years, is better than you'd expect from some old dudes. I guess Billy Gibbons does drugs again, and not hyper goofy dance drugs but introspective heady drugs, which is the basis of all great rock-n-roll.
Tejas is their classic for me tonight, good simple wine-drinking (screwtop wine, not corked bottles) music for a drizzly night, hating on bills and hating on bossmen and hating on it being Monday when finances and obligations force you to at least pretend to be nothing more than a weekend warrior, but you know come tomorrow, you'll blow off work early and go sit by the river, going elbow-deep into a 12-pack, hoping to not get arrested for driving while blind because of stupid mothers against drunk drivers lobbying power.

MX-du Renga #1

cool october sky
cut by a comet slicing
across the treetops

handed down by starlight streek
the wiz dreamed music beats

beer circles clover
jukebox awaits its moment
likewise rocking horse

kids grow faster than wild hops
hipness waits for teen ego

hoops spread from vintage
skirts the past in circular
rim shots reel the edge

slam-dunk love affairs began
in courting parlors - old school

chain link hoops chink loops
lyrical asphalt clatter
basketball matters

lone kid lacking athletic
prowess sits still silently

praying mantis casing
resting in your palm open-handed
stillness that centered

god and experience make
conflict in non-animals

resolve to listen
steady breathing with your mind
taking thoughts and time

truthful worry and a grin
a watchword in the darkness

dwelling in shadows
are parts of yourself you don't
always recognize

smearing paint pressed in your hands
streaking down your arms tired

rest comes with old age
at least that's what's promised by
people who hold reins

old in the way of greying
assisted living buildings

[suzy, paola, dave, raven... in no particular order of participation...poetry is stupid]

Wrestling Tanka - Set Two

[Bump on Rhodes]
If Dusty's red splotch
could talk, it might say: I have
dreams too, Amer'ca.

He conceals them behind a
crimson babyface - focused.
~~~~~~~
[Four Horsemen]
J.J. Dillon lets
his resentment of Ole
into his promos.

Ole lets his hatred of
ev'rything stifle his life.
~~~~~~~
[The Great Kabuki]
Staring at sailboat
paintings, Kabuki waits in
the small hotel room.

Gary Hart will return with beer -
probably Lone Star bottles.
~~~~~~~
[The Von Erichs]
Fritz Von Erich drives
around his ranch, always in
the Texas sunset.

Four young gravemarkers needing
not much math - his legacy.
~~~~~~~
[CLAWHOLD!]
The Iron Claw is
a perfect finisher - cruel
submission or pin.

A single fingerless black
glove adds to the move's aura.
~~~~~~~
[Dewey Robertson's Lament]
Missing Link pauses
by the black curtains; should he
carpool with the ref?

It would be fast, but Race and
Murdoch will have beer to share.
~~~~~~~
[Classy Freddie Blassie]
Freddie Blassie looks
down at us mortals and laughs;
we ARE pencilnecks.

Cigar ash burns in night skies
while geeks seek internet shoots.

MX-du Renga - Explanation

Haiku, which is what I mostly throw up on this blog-foolishness, is actually a derivative of a the beginning of a longer form of Japanese poetry - renga. There all sorts of things you can google up to get a better peabody poindexter understanding of it, but basically, the concept behind renga is a three-line verse of 5-7-5 syllable structure (haiku), followed by a two-line verse of 7-7 syllable structure (tanka), back to the three-line 5-7-5, back to two-line 7-7, and so on. Folks would get together in groups and write these things, with each person only seeing the previous verse to base their verse off of, eventually creating an overall piece of structured chaos. Renga can be considered by some to only be true with 100 verses, but I've read of 40, 54, anything really being renga.
What we started doing was getting together the weekend before a new moon to get drunk and sit around and bullshit, listening to music, and writing this shit, passing around notebooks. There are those who were very serious about this in history, bringing large notebooks of haiku and tanka verses to put in the best positions during renga parties. We are of the looser crowd, freestyling it, and not being all rigid. Thus, our renga's only requirement is that we do it around the kitchen table, and it end with a 7-7 verse. I'll be putting these up along the way as we do them. I won't even be trying to have any sensible punctuation though, as not everyone thinks about that when passing a little shitty notebook around the kitchen table while getting drunk. Like you even care.

Wrestling Tanka - Set One

[Chain in trunks gimmick]
Old ladies fretting
at the blood of their hero
while the slick heel smirks.

Crowd, face, villain, ref - all locked
in the square dance of kayfabe.
~~~~~~~
[Ox Baker]
Stop men's hearts twice in
life, and sport wild bush brows to
be Big Ox Baker.

At night, the Spirit of The
Bus'ness fights two ghosts; he snores.
~~~~~~~
[Tully & Gino]
Gold-trimmed sunglasses,
some technical prowess, and
a cokehead's swagger.

In the blink of His eye, their
God would claim them as His own.
~~~~~~~
[Jimmy Snuka]
Flashes devil horns,
soaks in crowd's awe, and transforms
into Superfly.

"I love you," in Hawaiian;
aerial splash onto flesh.
~~~~~~~
[Macho Man]
Gone insane with style,
launching longhaired elbowdrops
in Louisville's lore.

Flying, lethal axehandle
making Southern tempers flare.
~~~~~~~
[Harley Race's kneedrop]
Perpendicular
angling of the legend's leg
added leverage.

Aerodynamic afro
and sideburns made more hurting.
~~~~~~~
[Ernie Ladd]
Well-spoken black man
bending The Man's rules for his
gain threatens the marks.

H. Rapp Brown's favorite pro
wrestler wears the crown with sass.

Death Valley Driver Video Review #151 Hype!

DVDVR #151
I've been slacking on keeping track of this thing, mostly because blogs are evil traps to ensnare me into the mind-weakening folds of the internet, but I figured I'd mention to the three of you who look at this about the DVDVR from a week or two back. I did a couple of long-winded funny reviews about IWA East Coast wrestling and Chikara wrestling, plus some other shit too.

IMMORTAL: Curtis Turner

I listened to the entire Nascar race today on the radio, working in the backyard on your average weekend family handyman projects. But the more I follow today's Nascar, the more I hate it - a bunch of whiny-voiced pussies racing cars that they can't even ding up for fear of sponsorship complaints. They have to drink whatever crappy drink is laid out for them in victory circle. Today, they were complaining because of trash getting on the grills, as if the point was to take this million-dollar machines and have them in a vaccuum to make the racing sport pure. Fuck that. They should race on dirt with Wal-Mart bags blowing in tornado circles in the turns and then we'll see who can drive and who can't. It sucks. When a little faggot like Tony Stewart is the resident tough guy (don't get me wrong, I like Tony Stewart), then you've got a bunch of punk asses driving cars.
So I figured I hadn't done an IMMORTAL in some time, and Curtis Turner fits the bill more than anybody. He was from Nascar's early days when they still raced on the beach at Daytona, and he would get drunk most of the night before, sleep a few hours on the hood of his car, and then go win races. He got blacklisted late in his career for trying to unionize the drivers, but he also was a legend. Most notably was his weird penchant for flying his private plane while drunk. One Sunday morning, he landed it in a church parking lot because they had run out of drink onboard. And supposedly, when he finally died in a plane crash, everybody figured he did his famous trick, where he told his guests to fly the plane while he took a nap, regardless of the guests' ability to fly an airplane.
Thinking back on looney-tunes like Curtis Turner, as well as Junior Johnson and the other oddballs from back then (CooCoo Marlin as well, who just recently died), Nascar needs some retuning. I know it's on an upswing for the middle class Dodge with Hemi dads to act like they're suburban rednecks while pumping the latest sterile Brad Paisley or Toby Keith offerings while refilling at the convenience store on their way to go pick up the new Larry the Cable Guy DVD at the Wal-Mart Supercenter. But that'll fall off, and Nascar better remember its roots - all those dirtbags filling up the dirt tracks and half-mile asphalts every Friday and Saturday night. Those guys are all still wearing #3 t-shirts, and #8 by association, but there's no real superstars they believe in to carry the torch anymore. It used to be a family-business and you'd stick with driving families. Who the fuck was Jeff Gordon, or Jimmie Johnson's dad? Probably insurance salesmen. Fuckin' Nascar.

Wrestling Tanka - Explanation

The Japanese poetry style of haiku is really only the first 5-7-5 syllable set of a larger group-composed poem. Traditionally, one person would write that stanza, then a second person would write a two-line 7-7 syllable stanze behind it. This two-part poem is called tanka, whereas the first part is haiku. Ideally, you'd continue this by sending the second part to a third person, who would write a 5-7-5 third-part, without seeing the first one, and then that third piece would get sent to a fourth person who would write a 7-7 piece to attach to that, and eventually you'd have 100 people taking part and the entire collection would be something or another, for better or worse.
Being me and Rev. Axl Future have written wrestling haiku back and forth to each other over the years, we decided to give it a shot at doing some tankas, where one of us writes the first 5-7-5 piece, and the other follows up with the 7-7 part. They'll be posted here, as we get them done, through regular people's mail, on postcards, because regular mail and postcards are wonderful blessings on shitty rainy days. There's nothing special about electronic mails. It may take us a while between putting sets up, but we are out there, doing this, somewhere or another.

Death Valley Driver Video Review #149 Hype

DVDVR #149
Dean always makes the cover images too goddamned big for my ancient computer with the hamsters on wheels chip inside, so no cover. A week late on the hype, but ain't nobody here anyways. I watched a great wrasslin' tape out of Kansas, featuring a bunch of guys I'd not only never seen before, but actually hadn't even heard of at all. And there's the culmination of the IWA King of the Death Match 2000 comic book.

Last 5 Vinyls On My Turntable

(most recent first, meaning now; all 7-inch delights tonight)
Pink Floyd - Money/Any Colour You Like
The M-80s - Seeing Things/Split/Bad Women
Waylon & Willie - Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys/I Can Get Off On You
Al Green - Her I Am (Come And Take Me)/I'm Glad You're Mine
Fats Domino - Whiskey Heaven/The Texas Opera Company - Beers To You
I heard Pink Floyd did a one-time reunion show for poor African kids. I wonder if they tried to find Syd Barrett? I wonder if Syd still thinks he's a glass of tomato juice and only his mom cares enough to not spill him?
I wonder if Eddie Pearce is dead yet?
Man, that "I Can Get Off On You" song is fuckin' awesome. Makes the other more popular side look like a Keith Urban/Garth Brooks duet. Which it probably will be soon enough.
Al Green allowing himself (especially his loins) be controlled by the Fallen Angel equals good shit. Fats Domino being influenced by hillbilly music equals good shit. Snuff Garrett thinking he could do country opera equals some of the worst shit ever.
The one I'm most likely to listen to again fastest would be the Waylon & Willie single, B-side. Easily. If my wife wasn't on her moon cycle, maybe the Al Green. I don't know if I've ever actually had sex while Al Green played. I remember one time I slept at this girl's house and we didn't do anything more than hug and kiss and she showed me the shotgun she kept under her bed, and I woke up on a Sunday morning and she was downstairs playing Al Green and cooking potatoes and eggs with her hot-ass crewcut grown punk intellectual self. I loved her as much as a man could love a woman, for a couple of days at least.

Death Valley Driver Video Review #148 Hype

DVDVR #148
Hey, we actually kept it going bi-weekly so far. There's some shit about Shinya Hashimoto, and some shit about Ox Baker - perhaps the biggest cuddliest bear you'll ever see. Plus a bunch of other wrestling nerd stuff.

Last 5 Vinyls On My Turntable

(most recent first, meaning now)
Zodiac Mindwarp & The Love Reaction - Tattooed Beat Messiah
Iron Maiden - The Number of the Beast
S.O.D.: Stormtroopers of Death - Speak English or Die
Kreator - Extreme Aggression
W.A.S.P. - W.A.S.P.
Obviously, I'm in a semi-metal mood. I had a "more things change..." moment with the Maiden, as "Children of the Damned" came on and I cut the volume up a touch, because I figured I wouldn't wake my two kids upstairs with a little more loudness. It gave me deja vu of being 13, doing the same exact thing with a shitty boombox and cassette copy, at 1 in the morning, thinking I wouldn't wake up my folks across the hallway. The one I'm most likely to listen to again the fastest would probably be W.A.S.P.

LOUNGE PLAYER: If An Angel Came To See You, Would You Make Her Feel At Home?

This is easily, without a doubt, my most played LP of the last couple years. It has all the pure southern longhaired country boy rock-n-roll of Lynyrd Skynyrd, but with a slight toss-in of weird redneck hippie nonsense, plus Jim Dandy is about the most rock star motherfucker to ever have lived that most people don't even remember. He was David Lee Roth before David Lee Roth was. "Gravel Roads" would be my theme song were I a wrestler, and "Fertile Woman" may be just about the greatest weirdo dirtbag jobless rural stoner ode to having sex with a woman that ever existed. "Water is the blood of God, fire is his brain," so sayeth Jim Dandy in "Our Mind's Eye". Motherfuck yeah. I wish Dandy took over the Manson Family cult when Charlie got put in jail, then Ouish would be drawing album covers to this day, and maybe we'd have more of Bobby Beausoleil's jailhouse music for public consumption.