A Twisted, Tortured Soul Who Harass Women On Message Board

He fancies himself a smooth talker. But in reality he is nothing but hot air and narcissism. He anonymously types messages of hate by way of his computer keyboard and hides behind empty bluster, immaturity and self aggrandizement. He calls himself "Gulf Coast Shooter" and he is banned from every message board on the GCW system excepting that of one of the kindest most gentle woman I have ever met in at any wrestling event: Sally Sue The Clown.

The picture in the upper right hand quadrant of this blog entry is my artist's rendition of the tortured psychotic sexually impotent individual he really is.

Of course, anonymous hecklers and grafittists are hardly new to the Gulf Coast. This one though, wants us all to believe that he is a wrestler, that he shares a locker room with the upstanding young athletes who gather in wrestling arenas for the purpose of entertaining fan of professional wrestling. But this weak, pathetic individual does not have what it takes to enter the squared circle, an arena of honor and trust. He desperately craves attention and will take it any way he can get it. He is afraid of his own identity because he can never face anyone as himself. He is undereducated because he has the vocabulary of a short-bus schoolboy, and the sharp mind of a Muslim suicide bomber looking for 78 virgins after the vest blows.

Ironically, he is getting attention, but not for the reason he craves. By delivering evil to a good person, he has attracted evil to himself. Very soon now, the forces of retribution will descend on him in the form of an accident, an injury or the death of a loved one, if he ever loved anyone but himself. I have been assured by knowing people that this is the way of karma.

So, Mr. "Gulf Coast Shooter," be assured that something wicked your way comes. I will help Karma if I can to deliver justice to you, but I've been told by the people who know you for the poser you are, that blackness will find you with no help at all.

I am glad to hear it, because in attacking an innocent female fan, you have sullied any connection real or imagined with wrestling.

Next time you hear the words, "Dead man walking," just ignore it. Your fate is sealed anyhow.

Note: photo composited from internet sources and altered to illustrate article.

Neither Rain Nor The Rising Creek Shall Deter DSPW At Showtime

Dirty South Professional Wrestling's Brewon show went off without a single hitch last Saturday night, despite 3 days of torrential; rain, lightning thunderstorm super cells and a rising river amid flood watches. The fact that DSPW filled a large number of seats in the ANGA (Alabama National Guard Armory) was testament to the loyalty and commitment of staff and talent, determined as they were to provide entertainment to the East Brewton area..

The photo, (upper right) depicts popular wrestler Bobby Kage on the receiving end of an off the top rope move by (correct me if I am wrong) the 610 Kid. The next sound you would hear, had you been at DSPW for the earlier show where this was shot, would be the sound of two bodies slam-ming into one another to the crash of the hard wooden ring floor.

Promoter Mickey Godwin has assured me that the DSPW show last Saturday night was well received by a crowd of near 100 fans who took advantage of the calm spot in the weather to root for The Redneck Mafia, who now hold the Tag Team Belt.

Sounds like fun. Wish I had been there.

The new booker, who replaces Tiny Tiswell, who has stepped into an administrative role for the present, has one good show under his belt and is gunning for more. With a locker room bent on doing the best show possible, and a fan base not scared of anything it bodes well that DSPW is on the upswing.

The Quiet Life or Living The Loxley Aniversery Blues

I have been looking at the picture of Percy Pringle ( below right) and reflecting on the ghosts of wrestling past

Seems like just yesterday that I sat at my table in the Santa Rosa County Auditorium enjoying the last of the Old School Wrestling events held there. Those great shows, organized by Chief Ironclaw, featured some of my favorite wrestlers, including Chris Cody, Pat Patara, Mercury McLoud, and Adrian Whisper and many of the "boys from Mobile" whose wrestling has been so consistently excellent over the years.

It was Adrian Whisper who wrecked my gimmick table some time later in Loxley, Al at an SCCW event. And it was with Whisper with whom I fell into a terrible shoot brawl, that resulted in bruises and a light concussion for me, 60-odd forehead stitches for him and some additional mishap when he threw a chair into the audience striking a small girl, resulting in refunds being called for and the loss of the Loxley Arena for SCCW.

Whisper was the second wrestling professional who deliberately plowed into my table that night. The first was Percy Pringle - yeah, that Percy Pringle, the one whose WWE character, Paul Bearer was buried in cement and sent home from the "bigs" to work there no more.

Percy's beef with me has always been the message boards I maintain in behalf of Gulf Coast Wrestling Organizations. There's little he could then or can do now about that. So his next best bet was to smash or destroy everything I had on my table that night in hopes of discouraging me from accepting the hospitality of friends of mine who promote wrestling events.

Like the coward he is, he waited until I was on the other side of the room and then hit the table, overturning it and barely missing Linda Turner, who was in a wheelchair behind the table, destroying $150 worth if ceramic and wooden items I had set out for sale.

What he did was cowardly and dispicable. He laughs about it as if it were some joke like putting itching powder in someone's jock strap, or gluing a locker door closed. He admitted the deed on Internet radio, his "mia culpa" a revelation that the act was preplanned.

Pringle would have everyone believe that he was simply ridding "his beloved business" of a "smark," namely me, but in reality, his goals were slightly more nefarious than that. His real intent was to satisfy a jealous urge on his part to "kill" the Loxley arena for Promoter Richard Bailey, Mountain Man, who was drawing real and serious crowds whereas he, (Pringle) had done poorly in that venue.

But he did not get the reaction he sought by hitting the table himself. His plan almost failed, because I was not there to defend my property when he made his move. Fact is, no one was at the table when he attacked except Ms Turner, frail, in a wheelchair and by no means expecting to have a table overturned atop her by a "celebrity" guest star of Paul Bearer's alleged repute.

So Whisper decided to finish the deed Percy had botched. It was pretty obvious I wasn't going to leave the table again. I was mad about Pringle, but obligated to hold back to keep from disrupting the show. When Whisper started moving Clarice (his opponent) through the crowd toward the table, I knew what was coming. I positioned my wheelchair between the combatants and my area and put out my hand as Whisper worked Clarice into me. When Clarice felt my hand, he moved away from my position. Like all professional wrestlers do, Big Clarice wished no contact with the audience and took steps to ensure that. Not so Whisper.

Whisper fained being slung past me and crashed into the table, overturning it for the second time. He grabbed the tablecloth on a second table and pulled it to the floor, ensuring that anything left that was breakable would crash down. Then he rolled under that table.

My retribution was as swift as my rage was blind, and the fight was on. He stood up and came to me swinging. His three body blows had virtually no effect on me because, let's face it, at 500 pounds of jiggling obesity, I was a big target with a very thick subdural layer.

When he punched me in the face, that jarred me a little, and when he smashed a 3'x3' wooden knife case over my head, I saw stars for a second or two, but still just stood there. I did not return his blows, not did I attempt to fight back. The reason for that is simple. I spend most of the time outside my house in my wheelchair. Standing is not a thing I do well these days or back then either. I would not have been able to pursue a conventional fist fight due to a lack of strength and balance had I tried. The real reason though was a combination of two things - smashing the knife box meant that there were loose open knives scattered about, and i was holding onto my pants to keep them from falling down. The latter is a fat guy in a wheelchair thing.

At that point, Whisper was restrained by other wrestlers, I was admonished by John Saxon to "NEVER touch the wrestlers," a ludicrous statement considering that it was I who had been attacked, but I assume he meant well, so I have no problem with it. And except for the slight shock of a little girl being hit by the chair Whisper threw, there was no collateral damage.

So Percy got his fight, though the chicken#### left the building before the incident; his "cousin" Marcel Pringle was lying in the ring with a broken leg and Percy was heading for the hills.

The so-called and often self-professed "legend" Percy Pringle got his wishes. SCCW has not been back to Loxley. Percy killed that, just as he intended. I am very wary of shows in the Mobile area, and wrestlers from the Mobile area, though they are among my favorites still. Pringle's "bookings" in our area have decreased dramatically, with only just a trickle of its previous flow. He will say that is because he is concentrating on his funeral business, but I believe it's because nobody wants a backstabbing dirty rotten coward on their show, one who shows no loyalty to the promoter who books him at least.

Adrian Whisper, also known as The Wrestling Professional, and Gangsta Of Destruction, runs a show in Pascagoula that seems to be gaining "legs" and is concentrating on making a life for himself that includes wrestling.

Richard Bailey's SCCW now has a show scheduled for April 25th which is in Chickasaw, AL just outside Mobile. Click HERE for the poster for that show. You may notice that Percy Pringle is not booked to appear, but two of my Mobile favorites, RikKi Rocket, winner of the Gulf Coast Wrestling Reunion Horizon Award, will be there, along with a now healed Marcel Pringle.

As for me, I am waiting for Pringle to do the honorable thing and send me a check for the damage he did to my property. I imagine that Hell will freeze over before that happens, which is probably a good idea because Percy will need the lower temperature when he arrives there.

My time in both wrestling and in life is almost over anyway, so I'm not holding my breath waiting for him to do the right thing. He understands little of right and wrong as far as I can tell, anyhow so what the heck?

I am living the quiet life now, My book, The Absolute Beginner's Guide To Gulf Coast Wrestling, sold all but 9 of its production run. I set up a table where there is no hassle and I am welcome. I have Lynda, Erick and Pork Chop (the dog) to fill up my days with family.

I am blessed, truly, and I should just let Loxley go, not sweat the money he owes, and not give the incident power over me. Really. I should.

But I can't.

My bad.

I Want My Daily Galaxy - Now!

One of the first things I do of a morning, after eating a proper bowl of Cheerios while checking the message boards for overnight vandalism, is to surf over to The Daily Galaxy web site to see what rousing bit of science is making headlines that day. Being a Science fiction Writer, it makes a lot of sense to me to pop onto this "science fact site" because I never can tell from what article will result a story.

What doesn't make any sense (at least not to me), is that here lately, when I go to DailyGalaxy.com , the page starts flashing, jumping up and down, rendering it useless for any purpose of reading. Now I am pretty sure that stupid advertisements are doing this and I am very angry about it. If I can't the front page of this important (to me) site, then I am going to make damn sure that I boycott every single advertiser in that flashing array on the right of the screen.

So far, emails, and comments left have had no affect at all. It's as though the editors or blogmasters or whatever they are don't give a crap that the readers can't read the articles on the site.

Crap.

Nobody listens to just one person. If the advertisers would just blend in with the web a little bit and not shoot alien code into my computer all the time looking for attention, then maybe, just maybe, I might consider clicking on their banners once in a while.

Multi-media advertising should be banned from the web.

Old Friends Drop In

Visits from old friends are fun. One of the main reasons that I keep a wide variety of cold drinks in the fridge, representing many colors, flavors and states of effervescence is so that when folks drop by, I am ready with road-friendly beverages.

Today, Mountain Man met (new dog at my house) Pork Chop. The little black Rat Terrier barked his fool head off at the gentle giant as he came up the driveway, but reverted to his docile, tail wagging self, as soon as Mountain Man came through the door.

Mountain Man is the promoter for Sun Coast Championship Wrestling, and he is having an event in Chickasaw, Alabama on April 25th there. Click here to see the poster for this event which features one of my favorite wrestlers, Marcel Pringle, cousin to Percy Pringle, who owes me $150 in damages for a drunken rampage he perpetrated on me in Loxley, Alabama last year. Marcel is Uncle to DJ Pringle, who is much appreciated by many Gulf Coast promotions despite currently being "mean and grumpy" to old women and kids.

Pork Chop is a good judge of character. He took to Big Richard like a duck to water. Naturally. Mountain man represents Alabama very well, unlike Percy Pringle, on whom I'm convinced the little dog would pee.

Recently, one of Percy's advocates (not likely a wrestler or even an adult) has been spamming the message boards, posting obscenities and generally making a horse's ### out of himself. Seems like an ordinary event these days, when the terminally stupid get on the message boards. There have been so many intelligent discussion recently, though , that the ### wipes stick out.
Then, they are quickly extinguished.

Mir ist eine gute Arbeit und ich genieße es, ja?

Smark No More

Wrestling fan, Brian Reese (most folks know him as Spiderman or BSpidey) has taken a leap to a place where not many fans can follow. He has gone from ordinary fan, to super fan to "Smark" (which means savvy or "smart to the workings of the business) and now, finally, after having paid a lot of dues around our Gulf Coast area, General Manager to XIW, a promotion in Southeastern Mississippi.

In truth, Brian has traveled some distance in his life. His blog profile states that he is a 36 year old wrestling fan & kidney & pancreas transplant survivor." That's enough right there to slow a man down, but not Brian. He is among other things:

Ring announcer for Culture Shock Wrestling in Mossy Head,FL.

Ring announcer for Xtreme Inpact Wrestling in Pascagoula,MS, as well as that promotion's newly appointed General Manager.

Brian has acted as a ring announcer for several if not many other promotions including Ultimate Wrestling in Pensacola, NHW in Florala and Dirty Southy Pro Wrestling out of Brewton, Alabama. Folks who travel to see shows bump into Brian everywhere.

Brian is also a gifted photographer as well and is an advocate for our own Gulf Coast Divas, as they compete in national competition for recognition. His photos of wrestlers and wrestling have been filched by many a picture grabber myself included, often, shamelessly, :) to be mashed into composites and reproduced with credit.

Brian's presence in wrestling has enriched other wrestling fans. He has many friends and few enemies. His contribution to Gulf Coast Wrestling is irrefutable. With that in mind, I think it is time to remove the word "smark" as a word describing Brian and replace it with the words wrestling professional.

As a professional, Brian's ring announcing, photography, descriptive writing, chronicleing events in a style and with an eye for detail makes me envious a little. His tireless advocacy for promotions in our area make him very valuable, a fact that many promotions quietly recognize.

I hope that good health follows our newest wrestling professional everywhere he goes. He won't be wrestling, that's a whole 'nother thing. But he will be making shows better with his talents and skills, hopefully for many, many years to come.

Cage Matches Can Have Unpredictable Side Effects

In Wassau, Florida, a sleepy little burg about 9 miles from Chipley, down the beach highway toward Panama City, sits "The Possum Palace" arena and playground, an outdoor shelter where wrestling has been struggling to gain a foothold since Tom Carter's ECWA drew 20 folks for a benefit show for the Salvation Army and SCCW didn't do much better, despite a grand slam talent roster.

Well, AWF (Chipley) seems to have had much better luck, drawing better than a hundred per show in his first two trips to the plate. This last time around, it was an "All Cage Match" slugfest that featured Bullet Bob and Steve Armstrong, Chris Tighe, Ryan Holland, BTY, Mr. Fantasy, and a fine, balanced locker room of dedicated performers, including "Scarface" Terry Ryker, (shown above and right afyer a massive collision with the cage that, as Jim Ross might put it, "busted him wide open.

One thing I like about Gary Johnson's AWF (C) shows is that I can share the action with other fans. What's the fun of being at a wrestling event by yourself? With AWF, I can relax, take a few pictures and enjoy the show. The picture of Terry was shot by Erick Turner, my helper and apprentice photographer. He captured the very essence of of Terry. To paraphrase John Cameron Swayze, "he takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'."

Terry and friends and enemies can also be seen in their principle venue, New Heights Wrestling, in Florala, Alabama and often as guest stars, where a good fight is.

For the wrestling fan who commented that Terry's crimson mask was the result of a "blood capsule," you are incorrect. Every drop of precious blood on Ryker's face is the real deal, earned in combat in the steel cage.

To the nice reporter who literally "made my day," It was a lot of fun speaking with you. Felsberg, you newshound, I believe she "gets it." Hope to see more reporters covering local shows.

On nights like this, I love my job.

Talk To Me, Don't Talk To Me

I think the art of communication is important in the creation of a well-rounded wrestler.

Very clear and audible verbal communication in the noisy environment that is a wrestling arena is important to me because most of my hearing is now on strike. A wrestler should speak clearly if he wants to be heard by me because some PA systems are more muddled than others, and if a wrestler speaks hesitantly, or in low tones, I cannot hear what he is saying.

Non-verbal communications is twice as important to me and other fans as well. Body language is an art form. A wrestler can tell me he is a heel without uttering a word, simply by wearing a scowl on his face. He reaches out to fans on the walk around, then haughtily pulls away. His attitude when the ref pats him down is one of "don't touch me." His disdain for his opponent is more obvious when he reaches out to shake hands in a sportsman-like manner, then slaps the guy's face derisively.

A skilled heel does NOT need to call me names (unless he is talking especially to me, in which case, I am part of the show). If he argues with the old lady in the first row, she invariably wins. I have seen some funny put downs from fans toward heel wrestlers and I have seen some great silent tantrums. Stuff like this makes great wrestling greater.

Easily one of the best non-verbal heels I have ever seen wrestle in our area is Wade Garrett, also known as the Wiggins (Mississippi) Axe Murderer. He OOZES badness. His body language shouts volumes. once, in Semmes Alabama, working for the AWF, Garrett found himself outside the ring in a life or death struggle against The Nightmare, Ted Allen. They were wrestling inches from my table, and I was a little concerned, but not worried. Professionals don't crash into my table, only amateurs do.

Anyhow, in the frenzy of combat, Garrett grabbed an object off the table and began to pummel the everlovin' crap out of The Nightmare, succeeding in inflicting more than 10 blows to the cranium. Then, having finished doing that, he tossed the object back to me, signaling that it was no longer useful.

Now that object had no affect on The Nightmare at all and no wonder, it was a styrofoam mannequin head, the kind that one displays masks on for resale. One of Garret's legion of fans was on the floor behind the battle, following the action. She saw the toss-back and rushed up to the table to waving a $10 bill and screaming above the crowd noise, "Is this enough, is this enough?"

I held up 10 fingers, smiled, nodded and displayed a thumbs up, that she could take the heard, which was a duplicate of the one Al Snow used to carry around for a while and she put the ten spot on the table and rushed away.

Meanwhile, Garrett and Allen were going at it hammer and anvil, like two vikings competing for Brun' Hilda as this excited fan got around in front of them. She got Garrett's attention by waving the styrofoam head in front of him, made eye contact just long enough to mouth the word "autograph" and held up a sharpie.

Wade Garrett, the toughest guy on the Gulf coast, according to a recent poll at that time, delivered a terrific blow to The Nightmare's forehead, bounced him off the stage at the back of the Community Center, kicked him amid ship for good measure, took two steps toward that lady, grabbed the sharpie, signed the head, returned the sharpie, then turned to face a rising opponent just in time to receive a head shot that turned the tide of battle against him until they returned to the ring where he prevailed.

At no moment did either wrestler utter a single word. We, the crowd thought they were going to massacre each other.

That's pretty "old school," I always thought, and I have been a Garrett fan for years.

Other examples of non-verbal heels on the Gulf Coast, whom I enjoy watching:

Pat Patara, of AWF (Mobile) Rikki Rocket, (Winner of this year's Gulf Coast Reunion Horizon Award), comic genius Marcel Pringle, and giving him his due, Percy Pringle as well as DJ Pringle who is King of Tantrums around here, or at least tied with NHW's Chris Tighe.

Non-verbal experts in suspending disbelief :

Dan Delicious and Evil Dan Delicious (man, you believe he is a serial killer when he heels), Bobby Doll, (whose tantrums are legendary). Kory Jackson (who could convince Mother Theresa to join in a "shooter" chant). Shooter Mike Jacobs (who just looks like he SHOULD be beating someone up), Veteran of Japanese Wrestling, "Who Am I" Chris Cody, who looks lost but then twists somebody inside out, and Chief Ironclaw, who always looks like he is in charge.

Referees Archie, Murry and Froggie, all say volumes without speaking.

The art of non-verbal communication should be taught along with basic ring psychology with every wrestler's training.

Although cutting promos is given a higher priority, unfortunately that too is an art being lost to poorly learned skills.

DSPW Table Controversy In Context

Yesterday, I got a call from Bobby Wilson, the "other" guy with a table who sets up at wrestling shows. He informed me that DSPW has extended him a blanket offer to come to any DSPW show and set up his table absolutely free of charges.

Good luck with that, Bob. As long as you are dealing with Mickey, you should be OK.

And you folks thought that I was the king of cheap shots.

Funny thing is, I think Bobby and DSPW are a perfect fit. Bobby has forgotten more about promoting wrestling than Mickey or "Tiny" either one, which makes him a prime candidate to unstop the cork that is holding back attendance numbers in Brewton and Pensacola. Secondly, Bobby is a senior citizen on a fixed income who can use the extra few shekels earned. Lastly, there should be no shenanigans about fees and stuff like that from Tiswell, because Bobby doesn't like him either, and will tell him unhesitatingly to go ##### himself, first time Tiswell starts to toss around his "authoritah" (to quote a South Park fat kid).

This is far from the first time someone has tried to pit Bobby and I against each other. It has happened often because the gentleman and I have a stormy history of disagreement. I have been saying for more than a year to Mickey that Bobby is an asset that exceeds any liabilities. Glad he has finally decided to bring the old warrior out of retirement. Allowing him a free table will be getting him cheap.

In other news, The AWF (Chipley) Wassau show was an absolute success. The cage matches went over well. Seeing Bullet Bob in a cage was a little frightening, but hero that he is, he overcame the evil dog people and their nudist buddy who was a fake referee and taught them a lesson.

More about that in a later post.

Pork Chop (our new dog) made his wrestling table debut last night and then promptly sought shelter with Lynda, having discovered that 50 degree temperatures made him shiver.

Long ride home. 268 mile round trip, but I met some great people.

Congratulations to Special Olympian, Woodie, who recently won TWO gold medals.

Now, it's off to the car show. Man does not live by wrestling alone.

Last Word On DSPW FOR Now

Gulf Coast Wrestling is a fan web site. It's strength lies in the timely display of wrestling posters displayed to inform other fans of upcoming shows by assorted promoters.

My friend Norm said, "In my opinion, you should, at a minimum, allow a discussion board and post flyers for ALL promotions along the Gulf Coast."

His comment was in criticism of my refusal to display promotional material connected to DSPW. His opinion as expressed changed my mind. After all, Mickey is still my friend. And right now, GCW's front page is displaying a poster for a barn burner of an event "RAMPAGE IN A CAGE" at the Jackson County Fairgrounds Pavillion on 2902 Shortcut Road in Pascagoula, Mississippi, run by Adrian Whisper (Gangsta Of Destruction), a guy I lost a fist fight to, a year ago in Loxley, Al.

I need to give up on grudges. Grudges between people working toward the common good of the betterment of indy pro wrestling do NOT promote the common good. Everybody loses in a fight and the collateral damage is often not worth whatever victim might be claimed.

So I didn't get treated by DSPW how I thought I should have been. I no longer care, nor is it relevant to the fans' betterment.

To make matters worse, I messed up and got a couple of the kid wrestlers from DSPW wrong. Cowboy Ray is the wrestler who comes out to the ring in jeans, which would stretch the point that jeans= cowboy and therefore he actually has a gimmick - the jeans. Click HERE to see Brian's promo picture of Cowboy Ray.

Tell you what. Click on that poster top left, get the particulars on DSPW's "Fan Appreciation Night." and decide for yourself about the promotion, storyline or reported lack thereof, and non-wrestler participation in matches - you know, the stuff I have been griping about.

Worst that could happen would be you spend $3 per person and are entertained enormopusly by the speed and agility of Jerry Reiner, the style of the Rebel, the intensity of the redneck mafia, or the stamina of Bobby Cage.

Better for me to be wrong than for wrestling to be short a fan.

If you loved the show, bust my chops on the message board next day.

This especially goes for Norm, who has an easy ride to Brewton (I believe).

I will not be attending DSPW events in the forseeable future due to ongoing disagreement between Tiswell and me.

I stay away from the XIW Event for much the same reason. Putting on a wrestling event is tough enough without having to deal with some guy whose guts you allegedly hate (He has not actually said so, it is simply intuitive).

So my table and my self will be in Wassau, Florida Friday March 21 for the AWF (Chipley) show, where I can hang out in a place I feel comfortable and safe. Then, the following week, I will be in Geneva for the SPW show there. I'll be busy and I have friends in Geneva as well.

Maybe I will see you there. :)

Et Tu Brian?

Quoting a blogspot quote from Brian Reese:

"Due to the recent lack of professionalism,lack of integrity and unspeakable,childish antics of the webmaster of Gulf Coast Wrestling.com Mr. Bob Liddil towards Gulf Coast independent wrestling promotion,Dirty South Pro Wrestling (DSPW) whereas he removed both the DSPW message board and their website off of his own affiliated website, from this moment forward I will be posting all of the information in regards to upcoming shows and late-breaking news and information regarding to DSPW right here exclusively on WrestlingNewsCenter.com.Due to confidentiality issues and out of respect for all parties involved in this controversy,I cannot nor will I not discuss the situation involving the animosities between Mr. Liddil and his personal rift of friction with those who run and those whom that are involved with DSPW and vice-versa."

Brian is a gifted writer and photographer, whose uncanny and descriptions of wrestling events in our area are a boon to fans and promotions alike. Having been encouraged by under appreciated advisers to reach out and become more involved with pro wrestling companies along the Gulf Coast, Brian's Ring Announcer duties, much in demand as they are, affords him access to both ringside and locker room, resulting in spectacular graphics to accompany his lucid descriptions of area activities on national blogs such as the one from which the above quote stems.

What Brian, nor anyone else has a clue about, is that Tiny Tiswell ordered the removal of web site and message board from my site, months ago. It has been his continued wish from the time he assumed "command" of DSPW, to rid the promotion of any influence by me.

Really, all he had to do was ask.

I am disappointed in the content of the above statement.

". . . lack of professionalism, lack of integrity and unspeakable, childish antics of the webmaster of Gulf Coast Wrestling.com Mr. Bob Liddil towards Gulf Coast independent wrestling promotion,Dirty South Pro Wrestling . . ."

Pretty harsh words, written, I speculate, to suck up to DSPW management, and perhaps gain a little extra "cred" with pretty much "nobody."

Professionalism - I do not recall ever representing http://gulfcoastwrestling.com/ as a "professional" web site. It is a fan web site and I am that fan.

Lack of integrity - With no dog in the fight and everything to gain by currying DSPW's Tiswell's favor, what would Mr. Reese know of "Integrity" in this instance. How, for example, would he be aware that Tiswell had ordered the DSPW web site and Message Board shuttered. Indeed, unbeknownst to Mr. Reese, the DSPW Message Board is NOT deleted. I have simply removed its online link. It is in fact, right where it has always been.

Childish Antics - well he's got me on that one. Mia culpa. Much like a similar tantrum tossed some years ago by Mr. Reese, toward the Alabama Wrestling Federation in Mobile, Al, I have been known to be insulted, even lose my temper when disrespected after having sunk a thousand hours into helping put over a promotion. So my tantrum was over a personal besmirchment, Mr. Reese's departure and subsequent boycott of AWF was over a young woman. Six of one . . .

Unspeakable? - Hey, Roscoe,* I posted comments on a message board, I didn't shoot the man's dog or narc the location of his still. Unspeakable? Mr. Reese needs to calm down and have a glass of Kool-Aid.

As my friends abandon me one by one, you might think I am angry. Not so much. I am hardly surprised when someone lets me down these days, because loyalty is an old fashioned concept, very much out of style in some quarters. Friendship is a token thing, to be traded for pieces of silver at the offering, and bought back for copper later on with the passage of time.

This happens ever so often. People who claim to be my friend, having accepting my help in some form or another sometimes don't make the cut. This makes real friends all the more valuable.

Real men fight in the morning and the loser buys the beer in the afternoon, which is a metaphor for disagreement leading to forgiveness.

How could I complain against such a man as Brian, for helping set up a new MySpace for DSPW. What's laughable is that they are displaying the very logo I designed for the promotion. I am flattered that they value my work more than myself. I think I am, anyhow.

But the hurtful words quoted above are a step beyond. It tells me that I am expendable to yet another person.

Heh.

No reason for me not to be. I am irascible and old and irritable, and crippled, and as of this morning now 70% deaf. Better to look to Brian Reese, the new generation, the talented photographer, bright writer, aficionado and promoter of Diva beauty, ring announcer and all around swell fellow. He'll git'er done, I am sure.

Me, I will stick to the friends I have left, the ones who understand quid pro quo. I am sure that Brian Reese will come into a full understanding of quid pro quo or the lack of it, should he hang around Tiny Tiswell long enough.

*Rosco - a reference to Rosco P Coltrane, the quick to jump to conclusions sheriff who was nemesis to Bo and Luke Duke on the hit TV Series "Dukes Of Hazard." I sometimes call people by comedic names when I am put out by some characteristic like, for example, being a drama queen.

Click for Roscoe Here

Who We Were Back Then, Who We Are Now, Who Will We Be Tomorrow?

The arena was filled to capacity on that long ago day in the Brownsville section of Florida. We were packed in like sardines around a wrestling ring that took up most of the square footage in the center of the room, with us fans making up the difference to the wall. It was hotter than hell's own furnace inside that building, with a large fan working pathetically to cycle air to the outside while folks inside glanced anxiously at their watches. It was a Sunday afternoon at the Pensacola Wrestling Academy, and we were the gathering of the faithful.

That's how I remember PWA. Nostalgically. Sentimentally. Through rose-colored glasses. In my memory and occasionally in my dreams, PWA was perfect. In reality, the PWA arena was a small commercial garage space on Pensacola's Mobile Highway, in Brownsville, an area redolent with strolling ladies of "working" persuasion, gentlemen both selling and seeking illegal substances, and persons without permanent addresses whose daily bread depended on their ability to panhandle on a street where traffic seldom stops. Come to think of it, for sheer texture, character and adventure, no place could have been more perfect.

Bobby Doll was a rocker back then, and a biker, and to outward appearances, one of those free spirit souls that you wish you could be, but know what the odds of survival are. Danny Roland was a go getter, a man acquainted with bull wrangling, cow tending and such hard work in a farm setting that it would have crushed me had I tried matching him on a typical day. Together, they were The Black Sheep, a tag team so on the money that I wondered why I wasn't seeing them on TV somewhere.

Jerry Reiner was The Lightning Kidd then. He wrestled in what he now refers to his "Kermit" suit, a colorful fringed gimmick that shouted "WRESTLING" before he ever uttered a word in the ring to an opponent or "enemy."

The Highlander brought a sword into the ring, more than enough incentive for his opponent (s) to take a powder and then complain bitterly to the referee afterward, decrying how such an obvious rules violation could take place right under his nose.

Maze and Cruze were simply astonishing. They came to PWA after a short sting at Skull Crusher's, The Exotic Adrian Street's wrestling school in Navarre and they began by trying to annihilate each other. So ferocious were their matches that some of us feared for their safety. They bitterly battled to draw after draw until, exhausted, they finally teamed up, an act that posed a serious threat to every other tag team in the PWA.

Kornbred was as tall as a wrestler could be, topping well over 6'6 and, according to introduction was either a parolee, escapee, or work release inmate of The Alabama Institute of Corrections, in Monroeville. The exact details are a little fuzzy, but it was obvious at the time, from the orange jumpsuit to the "Cousin Homer" deadpan look on his face, that this gentle giant had been framed.


Kato Storm was a diminutive martial artist with a flair for acrobatics, Jace Darkhart was a Native American with a fierce war cry and a somewhat well-fed look about him that suggested that many a rabbit or wapiti had fallen before his bow, been cooked by campfire, and subsequently consumed by him right down to the last bite.

Miss Passion was drop-dead gorgeous, and was the love of every man and the envy of every woman.

Mercury McLoud and Sirus hailed from Area 51, Groom Lake Nevada - believably. They fought each match as though John Carpenter's "The Thing" were managing them from the locker room, ready to eviscerate them if they failed to prevail.

Aaron Blaze was a long-haired surfer with a clean cut face and a can-do attitude, ready for singles combat with anyone and everyone.

Fabian was - well - Fabian. Long before Bulldozer Graham, or Gino Galento, Fabian was himself.

And there was Kory Jackson, this half insane, try anything, do anything, wild kid who honestly believed he could take a bump on on solid concrete from a moving helicopter at 500 feet and the get up and dropkick his opponent into the Twilight Zone.

Red Anderson was Panama Red then, an outlaw biker whose intense loyalty to the Harley Davidson brand, and his heel attitude earned him a nickname of "Moped Red" and a chant, which drove him nuts, "Moped RED, Moped RED!" An unfortunate outcome resulted with Red losing a "Dress Match," forever condemning Red to another derisive chant, "Red wears a DRESS!"

Iceberg and Vortex, The Backyard Boyz, were actual backyard wrestlers. Discovered first by me, then by Danny Roland, who was more credible as a "discoverer of wrestlers," These guys were the "Anti-New Era and battled them ceaselessly.

Patrick J Kelly III was one manager of high-quality heelness. Johnny Hollywood was a leather-wearing- wild-eyed, blond-haired manager of babyfaces, who was a celebrity in his own rite.

And N.W. Sasso shared announcing duties with easily the most beloved of all the non-player characters in PWA, Chris Irish, straight-man to the stars.

The day described here was no ordinary day to me. On this day, I presented for the first time, home made gimmicks for sale with permission of the wrestlers. PWA Wrestler Checkbook covers. Envision checkbook covers imprinted with Maze, Cruze, Kidd, Doll, Roland, all the favorites. They went like hotcakes and sold out. Friends of the Disabled got a $45 donation that Monday. Thus was created a new Bob, to be known within the year as "Buttonman," obstensively because I bought a button machine to create and sell better gimmicks to fans in behalf of that single charity I supported.

Personality was a lynch pin of PWA Wrestling. We knew who our wrestlers were, what motivated them to wrestle (Death Row was once Kornbred's room mate in the Big House and several times plankednapped The Big Guy's little wooden friend). There was a back story that explained Kory Jackson's character, "El Guappo." Tyrone Holly once aspired to be a Rockette before turning to wrestling in PWA (OK that was a rumor, but I believed it). And when Dan Delicious and Tyrone formed Culture Club, it was an acknowledgement that "the mean streets of San Francisco produced some dagone tough rasslers who delighted in playing grab a## with opponents, much to their horror and most dreaded homophobic nightmare come true.

We believed. We were caught up. We didn't "suspend" disbelief, we left it in the car.

Today, wrestling fans, ask yourselves a single question. How much do you know about my favorite wrestler's back story. Not the GUY who is wrestling, but his character? What motivates Super Nerd to be so tough. What traumatized Terry Ryker so badly that he destroys every wrestler he touches. Does Milo have a secret academic past that haunts his wrestling career? Why is BTY better than you? Are there two personalities living inside Short Bandit, making him good one week and "bad" the next.

What separates one wrestler from another is story. Who, what, where, when and why. Promoters, do your wrestlers come with a history? can they be profiled by some means other than arm size and weight? If the answer is "no." then you have a job to do.

Every wrestler should be equipped with professional grade photographs and be prepared to offer them for sale. The kid who wants your autograph, wants your picture. Every wrestler should have an origin story, a weakness to be exploited, and a goal beyond just "the belt" No wrestler should come into the ring untrained, unprepared or undressed (without boots and tights of some kind). Doing so makes an impression difficult to undo.

Ask yourself, "Will I be remembered in ten years for my adventures in wrestling today?"

Hopefully the promotion you work for will be remembered as fondly as I remember PWA, and you will grace the inside of some one's head as a man worth remembering.

The Wrestler and The Special Olympics Kid

When DJ Pringle, son of All Time Legendary Manager Percy Pringle enters the ring in preparation for combat against his New Heights Wrestling opponent, the first sound he hears is Erick Turner's voice chanting, "Tater CHIP, Tater CHIP!!" That is because the long time wrestling fan and Special Olympics Gold Medalist loves to give the journeman wrestler grief over the coincidence of his name being the same as the famous snack maker, and also because DJ is one of the most recognizable heel wrestlers in our area and Erick is very much a fan of babyfaces.

When confronted with the dreaded "Tater CHIP" catcall or the even more noningratiating chant of "Cup CAKE," DJ disenigrates into fits of anger, angrily shooting back, "I am NOT a potato chip," or, with even more ferocity, I am NOT a CUP CAKE," and accompanied by tantrums that often result in savage attacks or dire injury to the unlucky "good guy" who might be in the ring with Pringle the Younger at the time.

Erick, who stands 5'2" tall and weighs less than 125 pounds is potisively gleeful when he manages to get the wrestler snarling at him instead of paying attention to the business of not getting beat in his match.

DJ, who is "wrestler tall" at well over six feet is unrepentant about his sensitivity over being called these names by fans like Erick. He has been known to shout his tormenters into silence, and he is an intimidating man who could well inflict terrrible pain if he wished to take make it a physical thing.

Erick and many other NHW fans love to see DJ Pringle lose. Often though, he gets applause for a good match and appreciation for being a true professional. A good heel works twice as hard to earn fans, and DJ works very hard indeed.

Erick has DJ's autograph, and you can take it to the bank that at no time has he ever been within arm's reach of DJ when calling out nicknames. Special Olympics taught him well. When teasing angry giants . . . be ready to run!

Friends, Brothers and Men Who Disagree

I had a friend once long ago, who was born in England, where I met him first, and died in America, suddenly, tragically as a result of a heart attack. On many things we agreed, on some we disagreed, often, loudly. Once, during a lull in our often loud and rowdy dealings, he told me, "Remember, Bob, Today is only 24 hours long. Yesterday is a shadow slipping away, and tomorrow is forever."

He was philosophical like that, that Yorkshire man, former coal miner who went underground as an adolescent, then apprenticed to the printing trade to better himself. I took what he said to mean that friends disagree and men in particular are perpetually in conflict. At the end of the day, a friend is more valuable than winning an argument.

I have expressed opinions about an individual I feel has disrespected me and used me. He is a friend of my friend, and he no doubt feels it necessary to stick up for the guy, caught in the middle as he is.

My friend is welcome in my house at any time. His friend, with whom I am in conflict, is not. Pride goeth before a fall. Whether I am right or wrong is irrelevant. This is how I feel.

I miss my Yorkshire man friend. He would have been amused by this tempest in a teapot in which I now find myself. No doubt he would have called me an idiot and told me to shut up. I probably wouldn't have listened, stubborn git that I am.

Sacrificing a friend for a principle is a bad idea. But if that friend sacrifices ME for a principle, what can I do. Perhaps only just miss his friendship.

Such are the lives of men

Dogs, Kids, Punctuation, Movies and Two Wrestlers Named Milo and BTY

A new addition to the family has turned my world upside down. He's a black terrier with a white Mohawk on the top of his head and the smallest bladder of any canine I have ever seen. He coerces Erick, who is his principle caregiver, to take him "out" at least a dozen times a day. We, (Linda, Erick and me) adopted him from the Humane Society in Pensacola, a no-kill shelter that somewhat specializes in hopeless case animals in need of a home.

At New Heights Wrestling the other night, we set up a table graciously having been invited to do so by those in charge of the show. They made us feel quite at home. This is one of the shows I feel very safe at, and comfortable as well. It is very family friendly and there were smiling toddlers all over the place practicing their walking skills, a thing that causes me to put the wheelchair in mui low gear so as to have a better chance of stopping when they inadvertently tilt the wrong way and tumble.

Another table at the show, "manned" as it were by Mrs Gutter, and the kids, is now in possession of a gumball machine. Get an orange ball (out of the many colors available), and a prize is forthcoming. Well, kids were pouring quarters into that gumball machine all night, and about halfway through to the end, this very tiny, very beautiful little girl won a silver necklace with a dragon pendent hanging from it. It was beyond cute. I get the impression that she had a great night because in 3 hours of wrestling, I never once saw her not smiling.

Speaking of kids, DSPW's Micky Godwin is a grandfather, having recently chauffeured into the world, a beautiful baby boy, son of Mickey and Sabrina's daughter Chelsea, and proud papa, beloved referee Archie Brooks. A little prayer added on for this and all newborns would be great. There are a lot of nasty bugs out there ready to take a try at a new immune system. You should see this little guy though. He's a cutie.

My friend Norm, who is a talented writer of wrestling oriented prose, has suggested to me that I take more time to spell check and grammar check this blog. By doggies he is right! You deserve better than misplaced vowels and typos. I promise I will try and do better. If I miss one, give me a heads up in the comments section.

Norm, by the way has a great web site.

Click to http://www.prowrestlingarena.com/ .

His web site is better than mine (Grrr). Seriously, click him down. You won't regret it, I promise.

We went to see Race To Witch Mountain Sunday. Love seeing The Rock in the movies. Would love to see Fabian Espinoza, aka "Bulldozer Gram" aka "Gino Galento" in the movies if he could ever get a speaking part. I personally think casting directors will discover him soon enough. He's "ethnic" and would be a perfect pirate in the Caribbean.

From the "Oh My God" department of Indy pro wrestling comes BTY vs Milo and Terry Ryker vs Super Nerd. These two New Heights Wrestling matches were national television quality. I never knew the human skeleton could survive such punishment. My personal thanks to them for some of the best wrestling I have seen around our area. More people should make the trek to Florala, Al. Come on. Gas is cheap right now and the Chinese will take it if you don't use it.

I got a little feedback from the DSPW, Tiny Tiswell message board post located at

Posted: from tiny tiswell to all bob is just pissed off because he can no longer have a table for free so his opinion does not matter and im not a mark like he is.

Folks, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried and be half as funny.

Without reiteration of the entire boring gripe, let me just say, yea, the bum tried to charge me $25 for access to at most 50 people, after breaking his promise that I would have no charge access to two Pensacola shows in acknowledgement for a favor done him which was to design and print 500 custom numbered tickets to use for "his" promotion.

Needless to say, a man whose word is no good is a brigand and a toady*.

Last, but certainly not least, a million thanks to the lady at NHW who bought a copy of my recently published book, The Absolute Beginner's Guide to Gulf Coast Wrestling. She made me feel like King of the World.

That's a great feeling. It must be how DJ Pringle feels when he has done such a great job of making fans hate him that they are still booing him after he returns to the locker room. At NHW, Erick heckled him until he almost burst into tears, snarling to an unfeeling crowd, I am NOT a potato chip!

Afterward, Erick said, "that was FUN"

The twenty kids and fans helping him agreed vociferously.

That's 'rasslin.


*Definition: Toady, A sycophant who flatters others to gain personal advantage.

***

An addendum made at 12:20am Monday:

Message from Mickey, coming from a "64" AOL IP number, which makes it suspect (possible fake post).

The post reads:

"I SUGGUST YOU REMOVE THE BLOG AND COMMENTS MADE ABOUT DSPW NOW BOB. YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH TINY NOT DSPW. DSPW HAS TEAM SEXY...REDNECK MAFIA... GOTHIC WARRIOR...JERRY REINER AND CRUZE AS THE INVASION EVIL BANDIT...REBEL...ROMEO..HOTSTUFF..EVERGREEN MCQUEEN...610 KID SO THIS MEANS YOU ARE DOWN GRADING THE WHOLE GROUP BECAUSE OF A TABLE FEE.PLEASE HAVE THIS REMOVED BY NOON PLEASE."

First of all, the poster makes a good point concerning the talent.

Team Sexy is legitimately skilled tag team that looks good and wrestles well.

The Redneck Mafia, Steve Fury and the wrestler formerly known as B.A.D. are above excellent, though I personally have an issue with any wrestler working in the audience, this tag team at least takes a moment to clear a path, and fairly, probably went for "shock value" the first time they did this with me in attendance.

The Invasion, Reiner and Cruze, are among my favorites and are noted for a well developed skill set that includes more moves than Mayflower Van Lines.

Evil Bandit, which I presume to denote "Evil Short Bandit" I believe is wasting his talent wrestling Tiswell over and over again. Others will disagree, undoubtedly. I believe Short Bandit should be in wrestling school in Tampa preparing for a million dollar gig in the WWE. But again, that is my personal opinion.

Rebel, I have only seen a few times and he has been competent and affable according to my memory.

610 Kid is the often opponent of the previously discussed jeans-for-gimmick Drop Dead Gorgeous. Between the two of them, they have missed more spots than a drunken dry cleaner. 610 works better against experienced opponents and has a gimmick and boots. He is young and that excuses inexperience. He is not unpleasant to watch, true dat.

Evergreen McQueen is plodding and ponderous and also loses his way from time to time. His bulk disguises many mistakes, and he is affable, which in turn measures him for popularity.

Gothic Warrior's showmanship is entertaining for sure.

I don't know Romeo, Hotstuff or any others who might feel institutionally besmirched by my assessment of Tiswell's (perceived by me) incompetency. Suffice it to say that my memory is fuzzy, me being a senior citizen and all.

Yes, I do have a problem with Tiswell. And as has been said many times, Tiswell is the FACE MAN for DSPW, therefore the two are inexorably intertwined. If Mickey reasserts ownership of DSPW, my problem ends, whether or not I ever step foot inside another show.

As for "downgrading the whole group" that is an obfuscation. The fact that each and every wrestler puts his ass on the line every time he enters the ring is irrefutable. It cannot be denigrated by me or anyone else.

That said, the "suggestion" that I remove this blog, or cease to discuss my feelings about any situation I find myself in contains (what I see as ) a veiled threat. Whether the post is a fake Mickey posting, or the Real Micky McCoy does not matter. I refuse to delete anything on this blog for any reason, no matter how much I cherish the friendship of the person making the suggestion. And I do so without malice or anger, but in sadness at the principle that must be defended.

On another note, I have to say that if you have read all this, congratulations. You are an awesome reader! :)

The Ego Trip of Tiny Tiswell and How He Became a Non-person to Me

DSPW (Dirty South Pro Wrestling) has, for a couple of years now since its founding, been one of my favorite promotions. From its beginnings in the National Guard Armory in Brewton, Al, I have been privileged to witness awesome matches by great local indy performers such as Aeon Flexx, Jerry Reiner, Jester McCain, who is now Carlos DeAngelo, Kornbred, Maze, Cruz and others drawn from the pool of amazing wrestlers who call the Gulf Coast their home. My vantage point came from either behind my table or behind the lens of my camera, or just hanging out watching terrific youngsters explore the depths of their wrestling prowess.

My table, I should explain, to that rare reader from elsewhere other than the panhandle of Florida, who stumbles across this blog, sits on the floor of an "arena," meaning the school, National Guard Armory, Community Center or open field at a Shrine Temple, on which is displayed for sale, inexpensive items possibly of interest to someone who visits it. I earn a little money, some of which goes to a charity of my choosing, and some of which goes to support http://www.gulfcoastwrestling.com/, a web site devoted to wrestling in our area.

The owner of DSPW, Mickey, is my friend, as are most of the owner/promoters in my area. I have, in the past enjoyed a standing invitation to set up a table at his/their shows. As a gesture in return, I post their advertisements on the web site, maintain their message boards, and use my computer skills to make the job of promoting easier. It is a symbiosis that has worked well for most of the last ten years.

Now, along comes "Tiny Tiswell" the "New Owner" of DSPW (like a 3 year old couldn't figure out that's a work). This guy, a former Pensacola taxi driver, hung around Former WWF Legend, Sika The Wild Samoan, in the last and declining days of XW-2000, and even at one point organized a couple of sparsely attended ( less than 25 people) shows under that name, killing the XW-2000 brand forever.

As noted, Tiswell has latched onto Mickey, and assumed the helm (so it is stated) of DSPW. With that "authoritah" (apologies to South Park) he has pretty much train wrecked the promotion by presuming to place himself in virtually ever match and even setting himself up in many of the individual main events.

The guy is smaller than the 11 year-old down the street. If he weighs a hundred pounds I would be surprised. It's like watching "Our Gang's" Alfalfa in "Let's have a show." Except for a few bright spots like The Redneck Mafia, and Omega with Vain, and Reiner and Cruz, who are self sufficient at wrestling, the whole organization and execution of DSPW events is pretty much amateur hour.

One glaring example of "backyardism" is the rookie wrestler who calls himself "Drop Dead Gorgeous," who appears for his matches in go-to-school blue jeans and no shirt covering the top of an adolescent body that looks as if it has never seen the inside of a gym. Do wrestling fans really want to see "the kid down the street" play wrestling as he stumbles through missed spot after missed spot?

Tiswell has stated that I am a mark (wrestling fan oblivious to the truth of the "sport". Not true. I am a "Smark" (fan who is fully aware of the ins and outs of Indy pro wrestling). Tiswell says that he "is not a mark" or presumably a "smark" either, for that matter. Therein lies the problem.

Whereas Short Bandit, Tiswell's only opponent is a true "little person," with wrestling skills and therefore a draw, Tiswell is a "wrestler wannabe" with five moves or so with nothing to offer paying customers but annoyance and a profound wish that he would get the hell out of the ring so real wrestling could take place. Simply stated, as a "non-mark," Tiswell has no feel for the ebb and flow of the show that pleases the fans enough to return to the next one. His matches are boring and that boredom drags down Short Bandit.

In my opinion, overexposure to fan dissatisfaction with Tiswell matches will undo Short Bandit's hard work in wrestling.

The whole thing is a cluster #### and as long as Tiswell is "in charge" I will never attend another DSPW event, nor will I do any work to support this promotion. Tiswell makes promises he does not keep, he tries to work experienced wrestlers without paying them, and when that fails, uses guys so green that they can barely lock up, never mind have a gimmick or project a story line, or work a mike.

I will always be friends with Mickey, until he decides otherwise. But Tiswell is a non-person to me.

Wrestlers, I suggest you get your pay in advance while Tiswell is in charge. You owe it to yourself to be reimbursed for your skills and your travel.

Blog Beginnings - The opening entries

I abandoned blogging a few years ago for the simple reason that people were attacking evey single word I wrote as though the fate of the world depended on winning some imagined contest with me. Since that time, I have maintained Gulf Coast Wrestling without speaking my mind completely, preferring to avoid loud talking, controversey and turmoil.

Now, though, I think it is time for me to roll out another blog. Maybe it will entertain. Maybe it will enrage. I do not know what the future holds, only that I must write to live.

This blog will not be strictly about pro wrestling. It will be about me, my friends, my enemies, my life and how the beginning of my 60's so dramatically overshadow my previous life.

For those who don't know me, I am a writer, a publisher, an afficinado of pro wrestling, a fantasy fiction and role playing game fan and a huckster, which is to say, a purveyor or seller of stuff both neat and interesting.

I travel to wrestling and sci-fi conventions obstensively to participate, but as much to sell stuff I have bought for resale.

The "huckster" part offends WWE Legendary Former Manager to the point of stupidity, a situation I will not belabor now, but a situation that vexes me continuously.

I have several friends whom I interact with regularly bot in Sci Fi and Wrestling and they will appear here from time to time. I have many acquaintences some of whom are friends and some of whom bitterly oppose my continuing ability to breathe, the latter sarcastically spoken because death is something few wish upon anyone.

I write in a style of english that makes some folks crazy. They mistake vocabulary for pretentiousness and wish I would speak more plainly. To them I offer no apology and suggest http://dictionary.com/ as a way of keeping up.

I can be abrasive, irritating and downright self-rightous at times, a character flaw that does nothing to endear me to folks.

Sorry about that.

I maintain opinions about independent pro wrestling, in particular in my little panhandle corner of the world. Some say I have no right to opinions because I have never stepped into a ring as part of a show. But as a fan advocate, with 14 years of attendance to my credit, I pretty much have a feeling for things wrestling. I even promoted a show once and accompanied an expert promoter to many others.

The blog itself will be "G" or "PG rated. The comments, I won't swear to because I bring out the worst in some folks, especially anonymous ones.

That's it.

The first fall is over.

There will be more to come for sure, maybe daily, but certainly often.

Welcome here, and if you return, in advance, welcome back