The Inside Dig
By Dusty Giebink
Welcome back to another edition of the Inside Dig. Iím no cheesy Derek Burgan creation, baby, Iím the real deal. And this week, Iím going to delve into the newest Pro Wrestling Torch newsletter and see whatís newsworthy. Letís go, shall we?
ITEM~! Jeff Hardy told other wrestlers that he will be starting full-time in TNA this week. Thatís right, ladies and gentlemen, the former WWE wrestler that I see akin to Kerry Von Erich, without the look, the talent, or the body, but with both feet intact. (Yet.) Hardy is best known for performing one night whilst having his forehead painted a very Smurf-like shade of blue. He certainly would never be mistaken for Brainy, though.
Perhaps part of his TNA contract dictates that he go to the ring with his entire body painted blue. I mean, that would really get him over at the Fairgrounds, donít you think? Whole bunch of redneck hillbillies paying their money to see a whacked out raver kid that has painted himself blue. If that doesnít scream money, then I donít know what does. If that doesnít scream money, then Sid wasnít the best wrestler of all time. If that doesnít scream money, then Pat McNeill isnít the most attractive member of the Internet Wrestling Community. It just isnít possible.
In another angle of this story, I wonder what ďfull-timeĒ means to Jeff Hardy. Does it mean showing up to work every time he is required to do so? Does it mean showing up just about every time they want him to? Or, better yet, does it just mean showing up before his match is scheduled to go on every once in a while? My money is on that last one. Rumor already has it that Jeff Jarrett had to call him before one show to emphatically state that maybe itís a good idea to show up before the show starts every now and then. We all know itís not possible every single time, because sometimes you run out of blue paint, or sometimes your stash of brownies runs dry, or whatever else could happen to you at a momentís notice. Things happen. I understand that as much as anyone because one time I was all set to pen another insightful Inside Dig when an episode of the hilarious The World According to Jim came on. Believe you me, Sophieís Choice wasnít nearly as hard as my decision on whether to write or be entertained.
So, TNA welcomes Jeff Hardy aboard with open arms this past week. Chances are, heís going to end up just like every other WWE castoff on their roster, pushed heavily at first, and then pushed to the wayside (did you like how I did that?!) and forgotten about. Whatís D-Lo Brown doing these days, anyway? I mean, no one talks about needing an accountant in the middle of July. Unless, like, you need an accountant. Obviously. But perhaps things could be different this time around for our hero.
Perhaps itís possible that Jeffy Poo has a one way ticket to the TNA championship. Imagine that for one second, if you wish. His talented, more sane brother is Kaneís shot put on Raw every week. And Jeff could be TNA champion. For the proper balance of the universe, I hope that doesnít happen. For the proper balance of the universe, I hope my nude, all blue paint wearing prediction doesnít come true, either. I mean, painting yourself all blue is so very unmetrosexual. Itís the body paint version of white after Labor Day. Now, if Hardy went nude with a nice silver body paint, then that would be a different story altogether, now wouldnít it?! Olí Dusty kids, he kids you!
ITEM~! Dennis Rodman is scheduled to appear at an upcoming TNA Impact taping. We go from colorful body paint and unmetrosexuality, to the exact opposite end of the spectrum. Dennis Rodman has often been called one of the most ďcolorfulĒ celebrities in the world by stuffy, buttmunch sports writers that think a slam dunk is still an innovative basketball shot. (Of course, the world has moved on to the three pointer by now. I mean, can you imagine - a shot that gets you three points?! Itís just crazy!!!)
Rodman was supposed to be working a program with, guess who!, Jeff Jarrett upon making his most fabulous debut appearance for TNA. They wanted him to let Jarrett smash a guitar over his head, and Rodman, for whatever reason, which will likely go unknown until the end of time, decided not to take them up on that particular offer. Now, let me divert from the original subject for just a minute.
What year is it? 2004? Something like that. How long ago was it that the Honky Tonk Man debuted? And, more to the point, how long ago was it that olí Double J copped the gimmick? Isnít it time they moved on by now? Isnít it time they tried someone else other than the bosses son at the top of the card? Isnít it time I stopped asking questions that either donít have an answer or I know full well at this point what the real answer is? Isnít time Vince stopped this stupid Diva Search thing and just gave Bruce Mitchell the contract he so richly deserves? Why does he have to work for it like that?
In any event, Dennis Rodman does have some experience wrestling, having been the beneficiary of ATM Ericís open pocketbook (albeit, it was Bischoff pulling the strings behind Ted Turnerís open pocketbook, but you get the idea). He just happened to be famous, it didnít matter that what he was famous for had nothing to do with wrestling whatsoever, and very little to do with athletics in any way to book, and so Bischoff saw him as a potential money draw for WCW, and decided to give him a whopping contract. So, it makes perfect sense that the Jarretts would do the same with him.
Did I mention that WCW is out of business now? Because, like, it is.
So now we are ushered into a whole new era of Dennis Rodman in a wrestling ring. I would be remiss not to point out the irony of Rodman working for a company called TNA. No longer needing to worry about Carmen Electra, or Pamela Anderson, or any other large breasted, ugly face having chicks he may or may not have gotten to know on a more intimate basis at one point in his life. Now, he has to deal with a whole new set of people. He, the walking culture shock for many Americans, is not necessarily going to like what heís walking into.
For one, thereís Goldylocks, whose ugliness is a travesty of Biblical proportions, and whose breasts do not make up for it. And thereís Jeff Jarrett wanting to hit every person on the roster over the head with a guitar, as symbolism for how heís better than everyone else. At some point, Rodman is going to realize that tormenting Frank Brickowski wasnít so bad after all, and go back to shooting some hoops.
ITEM~! The week of bad PPVs. The past week saw WWEís Great American Bash and NWA TNAís 2nd Anniversary shows both bomb big time. This is really unfortunate, of course, because both companies rely heavily on PPV revenues as a major source of money for their company. Of course when a company puts on a bad show, that significantly reduces fan interest, and may hurt future
buy rates as well. And, with future buy rates not looking promising, it puts the company at a severe risk of losing a significant revenue source for the short term. Iím Dusty Giebink, and this was your money market update for the week. Thank you, all.
In any event, of course, those two shows werenít the only things to watch last week, and in fact, some things on television were actually better, and free of charge. First and foremost on any list of excellent free television would have to be The Golden Girls, which is shown on some craptacular channel or another on a regular basis. Who can resist the magical chemistry of Bea Arthur and Betty White? The wit and entertainment value of Estelle Getty? The, I donít know, savoir flava of Rue McClanahan? It was truly golden, and the show was aptly named and a fond memory for any young man that, uh, grew up with that show. MustÖ changeÖ subjectÖ
How about the Brewers this year? I still donít think they have enough pitching, but theyíre certainly getting there. Now, where was I?
See, the more bad shows WWE and TNA put on, they less likely they are of turning business around. They canít just bring Sid back, or Mabel back, or better yet, offer up Sid vs. Mabel, and expect business to reach record levels anymore. I know, those are sure fire keys to helping turn things around, but those arenít the be all, end all answers anymore. WWE and TNA need to think of new ways to get people watching their shows in droves again. I think I have that solution.
See, itís pretty complicated, but Iím going to try to break it down for you people, my fine readers, as best as I can. It goes something like this: Offer good shows!!! I know, I know. Itís crazy. Itíll never work. Itís just not possible. But, honestly, at this point, itís the only thing I can think of that might work that they could still do. Because, desperate times call for desperate measures, and offering the best shows they can possibly offer might be the most drastic, desperate of measures ever conceivable.
Simply put, people like crap. They watch reality shows and talk shows and *shudder* Dr. Phil by the millions. They made ďWhite ChicksĒ the number two movie in America on its opening week. If you give a person a flaming turd, they are more likely to hug you and thank you profusely than they are to curse you out and put you on their extra special running list of things to take care of later.
And so, as I sign off on another fine edition of the Inside Dig, and go to watch my tape of ďBlood and Concrete,Ē I leave you with this: if TNA and WWE went out of their way to give Pat McNeill a contract, and focused on providing the best show possible for their fans, even if that so harshly doesnít include Sid or Mabel, then perhaps people might actually want to see their shows. And maybe I should apply the same logic to writing these columns. But thatís for another time.
Dusty Giebink wishes severe pain to the dancing old man that advertises for Six
Flags and for Six Flags themselves, as a company, for thinking that was a good idea. He writes Inside Dig columns for this fine website on a semi-regular basis, and hopes you all like them. He really does think the Brewers need some better pitching.
Dusty can be chastised and verbally abused at email@example.com.
Copyright © 2005 Derek Burgan. All rights reserved.