WHERE ARE THEY NOW?: Homeless Jimmy

by Jonathan Barber on January 30, 2003

Homeless Jimmy made his final appearance in XPW at Damage, Inc. on August 25, 2001. He and New Jack ended up being the final two remaining participants of a Royal Rumble-Style Elimination Battle Royal for a shot at the XPW TV Title at the next show (which was Halloween In Hell 2). Jack eventually tossed Jimmy over the top-rope and out to ringside to win the match and Jimmy, who had wrestled for XPW all the way back to its debut show back on July 31, 1999, was never seen in XPW again. According to a conversation I had with former-XPW star G.Q. Money on Saturday, March 29, 2003, Jimmy "moved back home to Ohio to spend some time with family down there."

Jimmy's first notable appearance after leaving XPW came on an April 20, 2002 Independent Wrestling Revolution show entitled, "High Time for a Revolution." On that show, an eight-man tag team match saw The Bump-n-Uglies (Bubba Mackenzie & Josh Movado), Deranged, & "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein beat Madman Pondo, Inferno, Deathdealer Tommy Starr, & Jimmy in front of 220 fans. Jimmy quickly became a regular performer on IWR shows (which holds all of it's shows in Sterling Heights, MI) and worked with real-life friends like "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein and Deranged, both of whom would become his primary rivals while in IWR.

On the May 4, 2002 IWR Mayhem Madness show, he beat "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein in a wild bout that saw Jimmy's signature shopping cart and a bagful of Red Bull empties as weapons. On the June 22, 2002 IWR Defiance show, Jimmy lost to "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein in a No Disqualification match for the vacant IWR Heavyweight Title (Klein therefore won the title) and at the next IWR show, which was entitled "Independents Day" and occurred on July 27, 2002, Jimmy lost to Deathdealer Tommy Starr in a No Disqualification, Number One Contendership Match for the IWR Heavyweight Title.

Jimmy debuted in the Universal Wrestling Federation on an August 16 UWF TV show taping in Cochranville, PA and was pinned by XPW star and UWF World Heavyweight Champion The Sandman in a title match. Hammerjack interfered in the match and offered to help Jimmy, but his offer was refused and a pissed off Hammerjack decked Jimmy down, making him easy prey for Sandman and a pinfall by the champion a few minutes later. The very next night at a UWF house show in Altoona, PA, Jimmy and Rockin' Rebel fought to a No Contest due to a double count out.

On August 31, 2002, XPW debuted on the East Coast by holding Hostile Takeover at Viking Hall in Philadelphia, PA. Combat Zone Wrestling, which also regularly ran in Philly and had a similar product style to that of XPW, decided that they couldn't risk having a lot of their fan base attend the XPW show and become hooked on that promotion's product. That would cause CZW to lose fans and therefore lose money. So, CZW promoter John "Zandig" Faretti booked a one-night, eight-man, single-elimination death match tournament, which he entitled, "Zandig's Ultraviolent Tournament of Death," and held it in Dover, Delaware.

Zandig brought in several non-CZW wrestlers to work the show, including "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein (Jimmy's real-life friend from IWR), and Homeless Jimmy. Whether or not Zandig meant bringing him in as a sort of cheap shot towards XPW isn't quite clear. However, it's certainly possible, seeing as how Jimmy made a name for himself in XPW and received exposure all around the world (including a brief stay in Japan's FMW) while he was an XPW wrestler.

Jimmy was booked against "Sick" Nick Mondo in the first round in a Weapons Match. Looking back, matching these two wrestlers up was pretty smart on the part of CZW's booking team. Both guys utilized similar styles. Each was not afraid to bleed and was known for their ability to take insane bumps. While neither was a very talented scientific wrestler, they were both accustomed to commonly flying off of the top turnbuckle and taking down their opponent with a dropkick, a crossbody block, or what have you. Jimmy made his entrance by wheeling his signature shopping cart full of weapons down the aisle way. Many XPW fans who were in attendance or who saw the tape were surprised by his new look - he had shaved off much of his raggedy hair, which had become a trademark of his while wrestling in XPW.

Both competitors began the bout by exchanging blows using various weapons that had been taken from Jimmy's shopping cart. Early in, Jimmy flew off of the top turnbuckle onto a ringside Mondo with his signature swan-dive body attack. Mondo fought back and flew out of the ring with his own high spot, that being a diving somersault topè onto his ringside opponent. Jimmy fought back and powerbombed Mondo through the washboard (which was placed on top of two already set-up steel chairs) and onto the hard asphalt. Barbed-wire and Jimmy's shopping cart came into use before the two re-entered the ring and Jimmy kicked out of Mondo's dreaded M. Bison (a Flying Double-Foot Stomp to the victim's head).

The two then brawled out of the ring and ended upon the top of a gigantic, yellow Ryder moving truck (the show was occurring in the back parking lot of the RACKS Bars & Billiards Bar). After a brief exchange, Mondo delivered an incredible Assault Driver (a Shoulder-Mount into a Sitout Iconoclasm [w/ the victim doing a front somersault]) that saw BOTH men plummet OFF of the top of the truck and THROUGH a structure with a log cabin of light tubes on top of two piles of tables (each pile with two tables piled on top of each other) and onto the cold, hard, asphalt! After here covered, Mondo covered Jimmy and the referee counted the 1-2-3, allowing Mondo to advance to the semifinal round.

After the pinfall, Jimmy was amazingly able to stand back up on his own and walk back to the locker room. Nonetheless, even on the tape, one can see that he was vomiting on himself due to the brutal and disgusting nature of the bump. Internet CZW fans voted the move as the 2002 CZW Bump of the Year, quite an accomplishment for the two, considering that Jimmy was wrestling Mondo and was wrestling in CZW for the first time and that there were so many other incredible bumps in CZW in 2002.

Mondo would eventually make it to the final round of the tournament and lose a hard-fought fight to Wifebeater after receiving a WEEDWHACKER SHOT to the chest and then a Chokenstein for the pinfall, but his match with Jimmy ended up being one of the top few matches of the tournament. Backstage at the show, Mondo chilled out with real-life friend and neighbor "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein and former-XPW pal The Messiah. Messiah had left XPW at around the same time Jimmy did (around Damage, Inc.) after having he and XPW owner Rob Black began having major problems getting along with each other. In January 2002, he debuted in CZW and has remained a mainstay there ever since. Many fans wanted to see him take on CZW star Lobo, but Jimmy didn't return to CZW again, making his TOD match just a one-time appearance.

A few weeks after his CZW TOD appearance, Jimmy worked a show where he and former-XPW rival John Kronus teamed up against "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein & Deranged. However, I was unable to find the details of the match and show (i.e. the date, the promotion, the finish, etc.; Although I don't know the details, I don't know that the match happened.).

Jimmy returned to IWR at a show entitled, "Fall-Out," on September 21 and competed in a King of the Indies Title match against Brimstone, but was unsuccessful in the bout and Brimstone ended up retaining his title. Then, a month later on October 19, he teamed with Deranged to beat Deathdealer Tommy Starr & Killer Kanareck at IWR All Hallow's Eve Revolution. After working an MCW show on October 30, Jimmy teamed with premier hardcore wrestling star Madman Pondo to beat "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein & Deranged in front of 125 fans on the November 16 IWR Fansgiving Show. Jimmy was originally scheduled to team up with former-XPW rival John Kronus against "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein & Deranged on the show, but Kronus cancelled his appearance about a week before the show and Pondo substituted for him as Jimmy's partner.

Two weeks later UWF Thanksgiving Thunder on November 30 in Quarryville, PA, Jimmy beat CZW's Nick Berk in an Anything Goes First Blood Match. A Lumberjack-Rules Hardcore rematch between the two was booked for UWF New Year's Revolution on January 10, 2003, but Jimmy no-showed the event and was publicly fired by UWF Commissioner "The Sly One" Christopher Fox during Fox's in-ring promo. Truth be told, Jimmy being fired was actually a pretty good thing for his career, seeing as how the 1/10 show turned out to be the UWF's last show ever. The promotion issued a press release stating that it would cease operations just a few weeks later on its website (UWFProWrestling.net):

"January 28, 2003

HELLO AND GREETING FROM THE UWF OFFICES,
I WOULD LIKE TO FIRST OFF THANK ALL OF THE LOYAL UWF FANS WHO HAVE SUPPORTED THIS PROMOTION IT'S FIRST SHOW ON APRIL 19, 2002. UNFORTUNATELY IT HAS COME TIME TO OFFICIALLY CLOSE DOWN THE UWF OPERATIONS FOR THE FOLLOWING REASONS:

1) IT HAS EFFECTED MY PERSONAL LIFE AND BUSINESS LIFE OUTSIDE OF WRESTLING. BY OPERATING THE PROMOTION, IT TOOK AWAY TIME AND ATTENTION THAT NEEDED TO BE SPENT ON SPECIAL PEOPLE IN MY LIFE AND MY BAND. WITH THIS NON-STOP ATTENTION PUT ON THIS PROMOTION, IT CREATED TONS OF STRESS IN OTHER AREAS IT SHOULD NOT HAVE.

2) MOST IMPORTANTLY, I CANNOT CONTINUE TO LOOSE MONEY, LOTS OF MONEY EACH MONTH RUNNING SHOWS FOR EVERYONE ELSE TO MAKE MONEY. I TRIED TO MAKE EACH SHOW AS PROFESSIONAL AS COULD BE WITH A LOOK NO OTHER INDY HAD, BUT WITH EACH ADDITION CAME ANOTHER EXPENSE. FLYING WRESTLERS IN AND OUT, BIG NAME AND NO NAMES, IT ADDED UP.

I WISH THE NEXT PROMOTER IN THE QUARRYVILLE FAIRGROUNDS THE BEST OF LUCK. I AGAIN THANK ALL OF YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT OVER THE LAST YEAR AND I DO HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS NOT IN MY HEART OR WALLET ANYMORE.

THANKS AGAIN,
CHRISTOPHER FOX"

On the December 14 IWR "Christmas Classic" show, Jimmy teamed with Deathdealer Tommy Starr to beat "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein & Deranged. Jimmy's first appearance in 2003 came on January 25, 2003 at an IWR show that saw him team with Deathdealer Tommy Starr in a four corners tag team match for the number one contendership to the IWR World Tag Team Titles. The other participating teams were CK3 & Gutter (who eventually won the bout and the number one contendership to the tag titles), "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein & Deranged, and Jaimy CoxXx & Frankie the Face.

Jimmy's most recent appearance came in the Detroit area on the February 1, 2003 Brawl 4 Braxton show, a memorial show for the recently departed wrestler Jeff "Yukon Braxton" Dingess. He, along with Madman Pondo and Necro Butcher, interfered in an Ultraviolent Light Tubes Elimination Death Match between Corporal Robinson and The DBA and attacked both men. Then, after a short intermission, a six-man Elimination Hardcore Match between Jimmy, "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein, Deranged, Deathdealer Tommy Starr, Necro Butcher, and Madman Pondo occurred. The bout saw the usage of barbed-wire, 1,000 thumbtacks, dozens of light tubes, tables, and chairs and Pondo eventually ended up as the victor.

On a February 22 IWR show, Jimmy beat "Mr. Insanity" Toby Klein and Deranged in a Three-Way Elimination Shopping Cart Death Match. The order of elimination was Deranged (when he was pinned by Klein) and then Klein (when he was pinned by Jimmy). The next month on March 29 in IWR, a No Disqualification Tag Team Mayhem Match saw "Gorgeous" Gavin Starr & Alex Shelley beat Starr & Jimmy after Deathdealer turned on Jimmy during the bout and beat him up with a singapore cane, allowing Gavin & Shelley to capture the win away from their two foes, who weren't on the same page. That occurrence led to a Loser Leaves Town (IWR, in this case) Match between Starr and "The Hardcore Drifter" Homeless Jimmy on the April 19 IWR show. The bout was won by Starr and due to the loss, Jimmy was forced to leave IWR.

However, on May 18, Jimmy appeared under a mask and teamed with Starr to fight to a No Contest with Deranged & Necro Butcher and then after the match, unmasked and revealed who he truly was.

Besides the above matches, Jimmy also worked the one and only Michigan Hardcore Pro Wrestling show in Hamtramck, Michigan, some Insane Wrestling Federation shows in Dearborn, Michigan, and some X-treme Intense Championship Wrestling shows. He currently resides in Ohio.

Independent Wrestling Revolution TV taping (Sterling Heights, Michigan - 04/19/03)
(by RAVEN MACK)
(BEER ONE) At some chance point there in this convoluted alternate reality of 1s and 0s descended into organized chaos, some dude decided to send me this tape of Independent Wrestling Revolution, which I had never heard of, but when you get an electronic mail promising free shit, you go out and get yourself a post office box to remove yourself one step from the madness of this world wide internet of trapped people in fake personas, and you send it back to that dude and await free shit. I don’t think I even bothered to email the guy back to thank him, and I’ve never even watched the tape at all, and I’m sure he was stoked to get cheap thrills at watching some drunk bumfuck fuckin’ bum write stupid shit while imbibing generic fermented hops merrily merrily along the way. I am such an asshole. This morning, coaching the under-6 team sponsored by the Dew Drop Inn, which was the beer joint the Waltons were pissed that John Boy was gonna be playing guitar at in television world, which was the previous alternate reality we all lived through before these tasty 1s and 0s took root in our collective time-wasting consciousness, well, while coaching, I wanted to punch this one kid on the other team in the face. He kept kicking all the kids in the leg, when the ball wasn’t even there, and he had that blank look already at age five, just like his piece of shit dad over there, that revealed his anti-me nature, and how he would drive a nice, clean Dodge one day with fancy bedliner that never got dirty, and he’d volunteer to fight fires, and he’d settle down with some girl named Cindy or Wendy or Jenny who had blonde highlights and didn’t like to have sex with the lights on, much less in the daytime, and the point is I’m an asshole for having it all figured out like that when I don’t know that much. When you think you know, you don’t know – Confucian winos have said that throughout history around things on fire. At my mom’s house tonight, she had a big party with a band and bonfire and she was gonna burn up the piano that had been in the house I grew up in forever, and was always broke, and my sister’s loser boyfriend was going to fix it but he was way more into Yngwie Malmsteen than anybody ever should be, and he didn’t really know how to fix the piano, and it was worse than before. So my sister was gonna snake the ivory keys before my mom burned the piano tonight at her big “Fall Fling” party, and one man’s cherished material possession is another woman’s kindling, and all that’s left is salvaged scraps of elephant. The reason I ramble all this to you is we’ve had plenty of parties at that place I grew up, including one I through in high school where this kid George, who was pretty cool, he had like five pounds of weed in his step-dad’s garage, brought his uncle, who was Pancho Carter. Now all we saw at first was this gigantic balding man, and my dad wanted to fight him, as my dad was apt to do when he had been drinking and someone showed up who threatened his security, but when Pancho Carter started bullshitting about he was Pancho Carter- a jobber on WWF television- it was all gravy and everybody drank and smoked and smashed things in the woods and tried to get laid and big ol’ Pancho even held kids up by their ankles so they could take keg hits. Independent wrestling is supposed to be that, guys who are looking for a good time. 95% of all wrestlers you read about in this 1s and 0s world do not make shit for money, and even the indy guys who don’t have to hold down regular jobs, they’re not driving Escalades and drinking Newcastles. It’s homegrown and bald tires for the average indy wrestler. Which means why do they do it? Well, the way I see it, it should be about the same as rock-n-roll was – good times- meaning substances given to you by strangers and blowjobs given to you by teenagers who you will swear are eighteen if any heat ever comes down over it. I, as Mr. Internet Wrestling Dude with the drunk gimmick (I don’t even drink to tell you the truth; don’t even smoke cigarettes, and my favorite meal is when my lovely hippie wife makes her braised tofu wraps with organic tortillas and some fresh greens, preferably kale, with a touch of apple cider vinegar), get some tape from some guy in Michigan trying to hype up this promotion he’s involved in in some way, or just loves on with all his mangled, young, wrestling-driven heart, and I’m hoping to see something that makes me think, “Hey, these kids are alright. I bet they’d dig riding around, sharing a bottle of vodka, while listening to Uriah Heep, chancing we meet the wizard of a thousand kings who’ll make us want to make the world feel free again, free of fear and pain. The wrasslin’, for me, is an exorcism of the shitty world we live in. We all tell ourselves we’re broke and our job sucks and it’d be great if we were chewing on that grass over that really tall fence over there because it’s intriguingly darker, and wrestling is supposed to relieve us of that tension for a few hours. That’s why the tax man gimmick is never cheered, and big-tittied girl in leather pants who shakes hands with the folks in the front row is never booed. Indy wrestling has become predictable though, and very little stands out, so it could use a revolution, like this group claims with its name, and I hope it’s a revolution better than the WWA one I wasted money on a few years back.

Kamikaze vs. Jaimy Coxxx
A black cat named Mike McMahon comes out, your color commentator, claiming to be Vince McMahon’s illegitimate child. People are doing all sorts of talking but the camera is just panning the crowd, and there’s a weird chandelier hanging, the type that- if Vincent Price movies have taught me anything- will fall on top of seven fans over there, killing them. The McMahon announcer claims he’s a scout for WWE, and your first motherfuckin’ match is Kamikaze vs. Jaimy Coxxx. Kamikaze does the Japanese martial artist gimmick, looking like a former roadie for Y & T, and apparently was former partner of the one-legged wonder Zach Gowen. Coxxx looks like three hundred other indy wrestlers, complete with well-tribalized long trunks and a bad tattoo on the meaty part of his upper arm, and I bet he smells like Brut. Kamikaze is very forced with his moves, and has a beer gut, but I love him because he would hold some kid up by the ankles for a keg hit. The blasting popularity of the AMERICAN HYBRID indy style sucks because now guys who have been wrestling for twenty-seven days, like Coxxx, are doing thigh kicks and dropkicks to the knee and all that stuff that looked so awesome when it was well done when it first started happening, but is now played out like Cross Colours, but Kamikaze hits a German suplex by way of 11 Mile Road, Japan, and gets the win, and the “security” protecting Coxxx from any fans looks like he’s be holding a piece of cardboard saying, “Who’s Got My Boomers” at a Widespread Panic show.
Andy Muscat vs. Frankie The Face
As Andy Muscat makes his way to the ring ins ome stylish overalls, the McMahon guy talks about Vince’s affair with an African-American woman in Detroit in the ‘70s, and Frankie the Face is the opposition, wearing anarchy signs on his trunks. Oh, Muscat’s stylish overalls are a snow suit. Face gets clotheslined out the ring after being dominated early, and he stalls before doing the old eye rake takeover once back in the ring. (BEER TWO) I kinda enjoy this Frankie the Face – he doesn’t suck at the wrestling. Muscat traumatizes Frankie with a spike DDT upon his crowd favorite comeback, and your crowd is not very hot right now. Frankie hits some violent European uppercuts and hits a stand-up powerbomb for the victory.

Gutter/CK3 vs. Alex Shelley/Gavin Starr vs. Truth Martini/Anthony Rivera
Next match is a three-way dance for the IWR tag titles. Gutter & CK3 are called Rags to Riches, and CK3 is a wigga kid with two manager/assistants in full indy Cena mode. CK3’s partner, Gutter, comes out, and is ragging on his own partner, ahhh, because he cost them the titles last month. “I know I can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes,” CK3 is awesome, wearing furry bunny ears as a gimmick. They agree to team, and god, this is taking forever. Alex Shelley & Gavin Starr are team two, playing the rolls of fan favorite. And the champs are The Threat – Anthony Rivera & Truth Martini, accompanied by Bubba McKenzie. These guys all have shitty in a good way tattoos and Rivera & Martini have long hair, and this motley assortment of tag teams excites me as it’s bound to produce some killer nonsense of the athletic variety. Martini has giant faces tattooed on both arms, and wait, this isn’t an elimination match, but a 3-way threat. The pack of guys does a nice second guy throws crab on first guy, then third guy slaps on abdominal stretch to second, then fourth guy does full nelson on third, and fifth hit sleeperhold on fourth, and then Gutter just sort of smashes up against the whole pile boot first. Gavin Starr is so tiny- yet he and Truth Martini have a furious segment. CK3 tags in, catches Martini in a bearhug, twists his head down for a weird chinlock/ bearhug lucha-looking thing, bounces his way towards a corner, to hit an over the head suplex from that position; very good shit. And then Starr and Shelley hit some dandy tag beatings of the Truth as well, and it’s odd your heel tag team would have their more vocal half being Ricky Morton for ten minutes, but I can love on it. And Rivera- upon being tagged in- busts a sleeperhold on Starr, and when Starr breaks free, they bounce the ropes, and again with the sleeperhold. I love that bit. Martini and Rivera start doing the old school abdominal stretch on the face where the outside guy pulls the hand of the inside guy while the ref is distracted, and that’s motherfuckin’ approved by me. Shelley and Starr play fair with a turnabout of the same cheatery, and Martini gets gutterslammed, but always kicks out because he is Ricky Morton and Dennis Condrey and Perry Saturn’s tattoos all rolled up into one. Martini and Rivera are fuckin’ awesome- with hand clap tags and actual team moves that don’t involve goofy submission pairings, just simple team goodness. CK3 chops the fuck out of Martini, who seems to be the resident abuse-taker, then Gutter comes out to hold him for a CK3 clothesline, which of course didn’t work. CK3 finally turns on Gutter in the middle of the match and his manager, Danny Hoch, cheers. Shelley and Starr start going at it on Martini and this already makes me wish that it had just been them and the bullshit CK3/Gutter sports entertainment turnings. Bubba McKenzie gets involved with an old ankle grab, and Martini beats on the tripped up Shelley ringside, while Rivera gets a dastardly pin on Gavin Starr in the ring, and this Threat is pretty fuckin’ awesome. From my grainy viewpoint, I think Martini has Johnny Cash and Black Bart’s faces tattooed on his arms. (BEER THREE) Gutter and CK3 have fought back through the curtains, into camera view, and as soon as Gutter takes the advantage, Danny Hoch nails Gutter with what looks like a piece of gutter, and we get heelery that open mic complains about shitty Eminem music- which gets the cheap heat since, according to my inside Detroit source, this place is within bus-riding distance of Eminem’s mythical trailer park of old.

Klunk The Clown/Bahdunkadunk vs. Gigolo Mark Gjoka/Miss Natasha
If Doink the Clown of wrestling fame was Bozo inspired, then this Klunk the Klown is wrestling’s Shakes the Clown parallel. Gigolo Mark Gjoka is Klunk’s opponent and Miss Natasha is his valet- looking good in her leather pants, but Klunk’s Bahdunkadunk ain’t bad in her Catholic schoolgirl’s skirt, and when they have a pre-match catfight, she gives the wonderful wonderful panty shots that make women’s tennis watchable. Klunk is wearing the Doink mask, which has a chin strap, but with no face paint in what is THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ STYLE! Klunk is wearing a wifebeater too, plus bad tattoos, and all these shitty tattoos and long hair in IWR so far, not to mention hot chicks, coming from Detroit, just like Insane Clown Posse and Ted Nugent and Alice Cooper and the Stooges, man, there’s mad white trash culture, a lot of it with face paint, coming out of Motown. Klunk wins and Klunk is awesome, but not as much as Natasha’s giant leather pantsed ass.

Truth Martini vs. Primetime Tommy Johnson
Wow, this is not the indy commentators’ schedule sheet, but Bubba McKenzie is gonna invoke his “49% ownership” and WE GET A BONUS TRUTH MARTINI MATCH, against Primetime Tommy Johnson, a stocky black man with lots of pep. (BEER FOUR) Truth goes right to the double knife’s edged chops, and Tommy Johnson is built like Rufus R. Jones at about age 38 but yet he’s immediately visibly agile as a motherfucker, an anti-Nana almost. Martini hits an eyerake, then sweeps the legs for a pinfall attempt with the foots on the ropes, but ref catches him, and Martini mule kicks Johnson in the Johnson and does the Negro Casas roll-up for the victory. Fuck Steve Corino’s way-too-talkative ass – Truth Martini is the new King of the Old School.

Jumpin’ Jimmy Jacobs vs. Chris Sabin vs. Elvis Elliott vs. Amazing N8
We’ve got a four-way elimination match, with “Jumpin’” Jimmy Jacobs, not “Barbaric Berserker” Jimmy Jacobs, out in his furry boots to wrassle. Chris Sabin is next, the young super-hyped lightweight sensation who has gotten more pussy, I can guarantee, in the last year than in all the rest of his life. Elvis Elliott has the greatest robe in all of indy wrestling history, plus “Paint It Black” as entrance music, and I thoroughly drink to the back-first emergence from the curtains to show motherfuckers just how sweet your robe is. Amazing N8 Mattson is your IWR King of the Indys champion, and Elvis Elliott has a goatee that screams, “Dude, no one can fuck with Slayer.” Match starts with four-way showdowns with everyone lurking in the ring, and it apparently is gonna stay that way, as N8 and Sabin stumble into a ringside chopfest while Jacobs and Elliott do the in-ring thing. I wonder if Jimmy Jacobs has a hirsute fetish? Elliott hits a top-rope superplex on Jacobs, then N8 does a frogsplash with the legs kick legsplash on Elliott. Sabin interjects, and hits a double underhook piledriver on Elliott for the first elimination. Sabin and Jacobs have a beautiful indy-tastic super-counter of teased destruction piece, culminating in Jacobs running up the ropes with Sabin’s head and nailing a blockbuster. N8 kicks Jacobs out the ring, and hits a swinging neckbreaker hooking the leg on impact for the pin. Jacobs and N8 are all that’s left, and Mattson starts working on the knee of Jacobs, who- as a “Jumpin’” billed guy- will surely be disadvantaged by such maneuvering. N8 is ruling, but Jacobs pulls his hand back to compress two amazing vertebrates into the barbaric knee, then yells “HUSS! HUSS!” and hits the mini-furry boot of finality for the victory, and Jimmy Jacobs holds a belt claiming him as King of the Indys, even though Reckless Youth had no doing in the matter.

The Deathdealer vs. Homeless Jimmy
This is an awesome tape in that it’s three weeks of TV (half hour shows), but it’s all one night. The Deathdealer is actually murdering the ring announcer with chokes via kendo stick. Deathdealer has the mic and is asking if anyone else wants to come in while the announcer taps like a bitch in submission. Now some old guy who is some guy named Brimstone’s father, gets beat up. This is sort of ridiculous, but it’d be great on public access TV, as long as it didn’t pre-empt the alcoholic street preacher who carries the giant cross on his back down actual city streets while talking about the impending Armageddon proven by the existence of the flawless red heifer, which was genetically engineered by the Jews to speed up the rebuilding of the Temple on the Mount, where the anti-Christ will expose himself, purported to be George W. Bush himself, and yet with all this anti-semitic hatred tag teaming with Dubya, the drunken street preacher condemns brown terrorists as misguided angels lost in a world of false religion. I don’t get it anymore, and I watch these guys more closely, because I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be paranoid of. It was easier when the CIA and the Bush monarchy were two tentacles of the New World Order, not opposing factions leaking on each other and doing jobs in the media. (BEER FIVE) And it’s not like a Yankees/Red Sox game, where instead of choosing sides, I can root for earthquakes- because the only political earthquake within reason that could destroy the CIA and the White House would be more radical Islamic terrorism, and I can’t root for those dude. I do have to admit, it’s hard to disapprove of some of Saddam’s fedayeen that were getting mangled early on in the so-called war, because dudes who have rusty pick-up trucks with anti-aircraft guns mounted to the bed and concealed by a flea market tarp, well, they’ve got some of the same ideas in weaponry I’ve often had. You have to work within your budget. But fuck Islamic fundamentalism, and fuck all fundamentalism of religion, holding onto the words in spite of the spirit. I guess in a perfect World, according to my thinking, guys like this here Deathdealer, and the Necro Butchers and King Diamond fans and lost metalhead stoner types of America would have anti-aircraft guns on our pick-up trucks, mine would probably by the Plymouth Arrow my dad conned my mom out of and he hand-painted an American flag on the hood of it, even though he also wanted to give me assault rifles after 9/11 because of this conversation he had with a former CIA agent who got my dad to fix his lawn mower and told him some stuff that my dad would never tell me because he didn’t trust saying it over the phone; and we and our anti-aircraft guns on pick-ups would be working towards what that wizard with eyes of fire Uriah Heep preached about wanted – no pain and people being free, not binded by law or job or debt or neighbors’ thoughts or seeing this week’s “can’t miss” movie before anybody else we talk to does. But also in a perfect World, according to my thinking, Sabu would get signed to the WWE, then freak out on TV and throw a fireball in Vince McMahon’s face and stab Stephanie’s hideous fake bosoms with that gutter nail until they went to commercial. Ain’t none of that happening. The blind lead the blind, and those with sight hate to talk, and it’s not a human race it’s a rat race. The other day, I was spinning some bullshit on the Numarks, and I dug into get a Bob Marley record out to blend with Leon Russell’s “Out in the Woods”, but inside the Marley sleeve was a picture. I thought maybe this was my wife’s record, so I pulled out the pic, and it was just some white people, dressed-up, sitting on a couch in what I’d pop culture carbon date to be 1981. The weird thing about the pic was in the background on the wall was a velvet painting of a matador fighting a bull, almost identical to one on the wall in the room I was actually in at that moment because I’m a velvet painting mark, just reverse imaged. My wife didn’t know what the picture was about either, so I guess it was randomly in there all that time while we had this LP from a used record store. My gay buddy Scan gave me a picture he found while working as a dormitory cleaner one time of some rock-n-roll fratboy type, standing at the top of some stairs, butt fuckin’ naked, pointing and doing some sort of loud singing at the camera holder. I tucked it in a record I sold one time, so somebody has that right now and will find it and be even more confused than I was with the velvet matador coincidence. Anyways, me and the Deathdealer aren’t gonna drive a Plymouth Arrow with a grim reaper on the hood and blow up Jerry Falwell’s church one Sunday because Homeless Jimmy, former XPW SUPERSTAR, comes out to challenge The Deathdealer to a hardcore match. Other than Homeless Jimmy’s raggedy flannel shirt, most of his clothes look pretty clean and cared for. (BEER SIX) Wait, it’s also a loser-leaves-town match, which would seem to fit Homeless Jimmy’s character better. He’ll probably end up in Richmond, standing outside the Texaco on Belvidere Street, trying to get my change to fill the empty anti-freeze jug he has with gas since his wife has brain cancer. Weird, Deathdealer flips over into an ankle lock and is moving around on some submission stuff on Jimmy, which you usually don’t see from guys dressed like goths carrying a Sandman stick. Homeless Jimmy really does suck. Jimmy spends half an hour setting up a bingo table, and goes for a hurricanrana from the top, but guess what? Deathdealer turns it into a powerbomb for the duke. Brimstone, I now see, is some former wrestler in a wheelchair ringside, and Deathdealer beats him with a stick, and it takes a special man to sit in a wheelchair when not fucked up enough to sit in one. I once lived in a place where the computer, the first computer I ever used where I read the rec.wrestling.pro.dumbass posts about the Public Enemy putting tables on fire and murdering Terry Funk in Philadelphia, that place’s computer chair was a wheelchair. In fact, it was the best chair in the room. We found another and used to have wheelchair races, in teams, with one person pushing another person. There’d always be people who’d find that fucked up and would refuse to sit in it, so props to Brimstone for having a metal gimmick and sitting in a wheelchair all night to further his gimmick. It’d be even more proper if he was actually paralyzed. I know a dude back home who’s paralyzed and he once told me a story about watching his friend get in a fight at a party and he, the paralyzed, had to hold back dude’s pit bull who always attacked anybody threatening his owner, all while the paralyzed guy was tripping and blood was splattered and it was crazy. I was lucky enough in my experiences to never crossbreed violence with hallucinations. (BEER SEVEN) Deathdealer is so crazy that he even hits the Widespread Panic ticket-wanting security guy. As Jimmy leaves the ring, Deathdealer is back, and they high five and hug like drunks at a party for one of them going to jail, and I enjoy that far more than the standard handshake.

Stevie Lee vs. Bryer Wellington
Whoa – there’s the actual fifty-fifty raffle going on in the ring. But nobody claimed the ticket, and we move to our main event, which is awesome, because the crowd just got ripped off on a raffle, but won’t complain, because it’s in memory of Yukon Braxton. Is that the guy who lost his ear to Fritz Von Erich’s iron claw? Stevie Lee has long hair, psychedelic crosses on his trunks, and brings out Sabin, Starr, and Shelley to watch his back. The IWR champ is Bryer Wellington, part of Bubba McKenzie’s army of chicanery. I enjoy this Wellington – he’s like a midwestern Rocky Reynolds, and the two would make a great tag team if tag teams still existed. Wrestling completely abandoned tag teams, because Vince McMahon for a long while would rather have put his tag titles on makeshift teams of guys he was probably promising singles title to, instead of bonafide tag teams. Nobody gives a shit about tag teams anymore, and because of that, no tag teams give a shit to not suck. Instead of Jimmy Jacobs and Alex Shelley being the most god-destroying blazing tag team on the indy scene today, they’re stoked to have a match with each other signed to an indy show. Same for Alex Arion and Maverick Wild, or Chris Hero and CM Punk. Why can’t guys work fuckin’ awesome together as a pair together anymore? Fuck this new-fangled wrestling, with it’s short-sighted blinders. (BEER EIGHT) Lee hits a DDT for a two-count, then a devastating piledriver, and the rest of Bubba McKenzie’s crew comes out to brawl ringside while McKenzie hits Lee with a roll of quarters. Wellington goes for the cheating pin, but the ref is still bumped out, and Stevie Lee gives us our first blood of the night, in our main event- how it should maybe be in small-time indy shows. Bryer Wellington is not bad at all, hitting a standing moonsault, and with his long hair and tattoos; he should try and get a jobbing gig at NWA TNA while Antonio Pena is involved, because Wellington could go to Mexico and be a MOTHERFUCKIN’ KING FOR YEARS! Latin Lover is starring a soap opera anyways, so they need a new top heel. But then Stevie Lee hits a wicked-ass piledriver on Wellington on a chair, and he wins the title. Face bleeds in main event for first blood of the night, and also wins the main title belt off the evil menagerie of bastards who were running shit coming in…perfect. Wait, they don’t know where the belt is, and apparently the bad guys stole the belt while nobody was looking. And your ref shrugs his shoulders and goes home, listening to Weezer. This tape, instead of ending, just freeze frames on a shot of the crowd turning away from an empty ring, and I’ve actually watched it on fast forward for two minutes now. You can’t cut something like that off, because there’s always the promise of undiscovered gems at the end, like maybe Onita getting blown up or maybe the Alan Funk in Finland match or something weird and fucked-up that nobody would admit to putting on a tape but stuff it at the end to try and be clever, like me putting that naked dude picture in a record I sold. And I’ve got a fifth of a beer left.

EPILOGUE
FIRST STAR OF THE TAPE: Truth Martini. This motherfucker has the L.A. Guns tattoos, the old school Southern tag team tape watching moveset, and shitty long hair to boot. I ain’t never been to Michigan, but I know Sabu and Van Dam came from there, and I bought the issue of High Times with them in that little sub-zine in the middle, and to paraphrase a dude I got drunk with in the Charleston, West Virginia, Greyhound station, I can tell by looking at him he likes to party. Martini rules, motherfuckers.

SECOND STAR OF THE TAPE: Elvis Elliott. I saw very little of him as he was eliminated quickly in his match, but his robe is the nicest ring entrace accoutrement I’ve ever seen in indy wrestling, and he was wicked as shit for the minute and half he was in the four-way. God bless him.

THIRD STAR OF THE TAPE: Bryer Wellington. He’s devious and championship-like and your small-time main eventer of note. And that’s perfect. If I could fill a barn in Fluvanna County full of people to watch a wrestling ring ruled by guys like him and Hotstuff Hernandez and the barely-known like who aren’t bad at all at what they do for almost nothing, well, I’d do it, and rip off the wrestlers, but make up for it with a really awesome speech in the locker room beforehand about what we’re all working towards, in the big pictures. When big pictures dominate the attention span, little hands digging deeper into other people’s pockets aren’t so noticeable.

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