Sal Paolantonio hits gold with this post game interview of Bart Scott after the Patriots lost to the Jets last night. Apparently Bart Scott felt a little disrespected by people. Something about people not giving their defense credit even though it is the #3 ranked defense in the league. I dunno, maybe people didn’t give them any credit because the last time they played the Patriots, they had 45 points hung on them. Just a thought. Anyway, Scott and his D stepped up to the plate this week and he wanted everyone…EVERYONE to know about it.
After his NFL career is done, he really should think about starting up a WWE career with the amazing amount of machismo bull-shit he is able to conjure up in what you are about to watch. Its awesome.
Because he’s been so prolific lately, we allowed MMA expert Turd Ferguson drop some knowledge about his first true love: WWE. At this point, we’re pretty sure it’s the only thing that keeps him off the streets:
As you may know by now, my contributions to this site are related to MMA, a sport that has grown faster than Eddie Murphy’s unrecognized children, or Chris Tucker’s girth (his belly, perverts). Therefore, fair reader: please bear in mind that I speak today in lamentation of the wrestling of yesteryear, and not the MTV garbage that we know today.
Men like the Legion of Doom, the Nasty Boys, the Ultimate Warrior, and Doink the Clown, have been replaced by wannabe models and actors who dance around the ring like a casting call for “The Bachelorette” (note to self: pick up headshots). These days, with guys like MTV’s Real World “The Miz” holding the strap, it’s almost enough to make me want to throw on a sandpaper jimmy hat and hump Snooki. But, that isn’t to say that legends don’t still engage in this sport. Take Triple H for example, a 13-time WWE Champion, which of course has nothing to do with his wife and her role with his employer. Regardless, Triple H has always been a decent wrestler (even after tearing his quadriceps) and seemed like a guy who could make a transition to making crappy movies just like “The Rock” and more recently, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin.
After swinging and missing with bigger budget features like “The Condemned” and “See No Evil,” WWE films dialed it back to straight-to-DVD offerings, with budgets that would rival only the wealthiest of porn companies but with acting that falls just below that lofty So-Cal standard.
Be forewarned, fellas, this isn’t exactly Citizen Kane, or even “See No Evil:”
“For Ray Bradstone, no job was too daunting, no job was too dangerous, but one final heist was left, steal back his daughter’s heart…”
At this point in the trailer, 17 seconds in, I downed an entire bottle of unlabeled prescription pills and chased it with a bottle of Drano.
Gouge out my eyeballs and slice off my ears Youtube:
Wow, that spitball that landed on Triple H’s “genetically enhanced” face looked promising at the end. While Triple H is hardly the least charismatic star to make it on screen, probably best to leave this one to the $.99 Wal-Mart bargain bin and late-night Netflix guilt viewings.
In H’s defense, it’s not like the bar has been set particularly high:
In case you haven’t noticed, MMA has been in the headlines lately. Expect a lot from our resident MMA-Expert Turd Ferguson in the coming days. Here, T.F. weighs in on the rumored departure of former Heavyweight Champion Brock Lesnar.
In the 1980’s, professional wrestlers were real-life gladiators, confronting the dual challenges of vanishing scrotums and hairlines against the physical limitations of excessive weightlifting and zero cardio. On any given night, in arenas across the country, well-oiled hot dog-resembling hard bodies would collide for the coveted WWF championship; a gaudy belt that all but guaranteed its owner a bounty of lap dances and boilermakers in all the finest strip clubs and truck stops across the land. His likeness would also adorn only the dirtiest, sweatiest, and tightest cotton t-shirts that trailer-dwellers could purchase. Mock if you must, dear reader, but to the broad array of folks sustaining our mobile home industry, these athletes represented living gods.
Today, like most sports, pro wrestling has evolved. WrestleMania is now a bigger draw than ever, with cities bidding for the right to host it like those dudes in “Hostel.” Every spring, Vince “Clean living” McMahon throws a White Trash Woodstock extravaganza that’s nothing short of a GWAR concert. Please know that WrestleMania is oh, much more than merely a rite of passage for the flyover states, Tea Party activists, and Girls Gone Wild litigants; indeed, it’s more like a monster-truck rally rolled into a porn convention sprinkled with an Insane Clown Posse concert.
Brock Lesnar knows this, but do you?
Famous “journalist” for “non-sports sports” (and probably National Closet-Masturbating Champion) Dave Meltzer, reports Brock “Erik the Red” Lesnar is eyeballing a return to the WWE much like he probably eyeballs a vial of Winstrol just before he takes that big injection in his bum (GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER! I’m talking about ‘roids!).
Meltzer reports Lesnar could pocket $2M to take on “The Undertaker,” who is a whopping 18-0 in Wrestlemania –the greatest fake sports record after Barry Bonds and Wilt Chamberlain. Lesnar’s star is never going to be any brighter, and apparently he wants a big check to step into the squared circle before going back to real fights (and sports).
Of course, we would be remiss if we did not mention the fact that Lesnar is somewhat infamous for his inability to stay in one place for too long, much like myself on Father’s Day or during a certain Christian holiday that demands a sustained presence with your offspring and a gift exchange. Lesnar was a big draw in the WWE from 2002-2004 but left $45M on the table so he could try out for the Los Angeles Minnesota Vikings as a defensive lineman. A motorcycle accident derailed his efforts and led to his eventual release. Subsequently, Lesnar began his MMA career in 2007.
Still, if Lesnar wants to slip back on the black trunks and boots for a quick payday against the ‘Taker, I say do it. The Rock did this several times while he was off making crappy movies and even over-the-hill athletes like Lawrence Taylor, Pete Rose, Mike Tyson, and Mr. T have stepped into the squared circle and put their lives and reputations on the line. At this point in his career, Lesnar’s situation isn’t much different.
Coming off of an impressive run-down of UFC 120 and a delayed trial, Deuce of Davenport resident MMA expert Turd Ferguson is back with another in-depth look at Saturday’s UFC 121 pay-per-view.
We get a lot of questions about old T.F. Is he really the miscreant he makes himself out to be? How can he know so much about MMA when he’s constantly on the run from the law? Are the rumors true that he’s really a 120-pound hipster living in solitude in a friend’s shed in Cleveland? I was given special access to T.F.’s lair this past weekend and let me tell you: the answer to these questions is pretty much, “yes.” Or maybe not. Possibly. We just don’t know. But I do know this: he gets it done. Back by popular demand, your UFC 121 run-down: