| “Welcome to Lucha Libre Night at the Taco Bell Arena in Chihuahua, Mexico. I’m Edificio Del Huevo, your color commentator, and I’ll be assisted by six-time Mexican female mud wrestling champion, Rosita La Chingada.” “¡Hola amigos!” “We’ll be reporting on the hugely anticipated grudge match tonight between Mexican champion Comandante Marco and his American rival, El Grande Bush. There’s a lot at stake in this battle for North American supremacy, wouldn’t you say, Rosie?” “¡Ooooh sííííí! Mexico has been pushing for a rematch since 1846, when the malditos gringos cabrones put a gun to our heads and made us sign over Texas and California. Now if we want to go there for a vacation we have to swim through rat-infested sewer pipes, and mutherfuckers telling us ‘Speak English! Speak English!’ I like English. I luv it! But I don’t need no gringo mutherfucker breathin’ down my neck. “Anyway, if Comandante Marco wins the match tonight, we gonna get back all our land and then we be telling you cocksuckers to speak Spanish. “I know the first thing I’m gonna do when we take over is to move into the Presidential Suite at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas and go skinny-dipping in the Grand Canal. Show the mutherfuckers what a real Mexican chocha looks like!” “Sounds good to me, Rosie, but as they say ‘Don’t count your huevos rancheros before they’re hatched.’ Remember, the norteamericanos are not going to give up all that loot without a fight. “And as we speak, El Grande Bush is entering the ring. He’s wearing his trademark pink tu-tu, dunce cap and glitter mask, and they’re playing his music, ‘Cheeseburger in Paradise.’” “Hey, Bushie, Bushie! Can we get a word from you for our studio audience?” “Waal, I’d like to address my remarks to the brave men and women fighting in Eye-Rack for the forty-second consecutive year. I honor the sacrifice you are making in the war on terror, and I want you to know that I plan to win tonight so that when you come home you’ll have a home to come home to. “The threat we are facing in this arena here tonight is whether our western states will remain The Home of The Free And The Brave, or are allowed to become an open-air taco stand like the one on Alvarado Street in downtown LA, where the crackheads and stray dogs hang out, behind the convention center.” “How inspiring! What’s your strategy for fighting Comandante Marco?" “I plan to shock and awe him with my lightning speed, twist his head in the ropes and bite his knuckles.” “Excuse me, Ed, cut out that shit. Here comes Mexico’s national hero, Comandante Marco of the Zapatista Revolutionary Army of Chiapas. He looks ready for battle with his headdress of quetzal feathers, jaguar-skin tights and crocodile nose mask. His musical accompaniment is the Mexico City rock band Molotov singing their anthem ''Viva México Cabrones.' Every time I hear that song it brings tears of pride to my eyes, especially the part where they sing ‘No Me Llames Cerdo.’ When I was a leetle girl in the shantytown overlooking the security wall separating Nuevo Laredo from Brownsville, Texas, my mother used to lull me to sleep by singing to me from Molotov’s romantic love song ‘Chinga Tu Madre’, where they sing: Nos vemos Acapulco a la fin de semana Mientras yo cuido à tu hermana Chinga tú chinga tu madre [Ed. See you in Acapulco But first I fuck your sister] “Hey, big boy! You got something to say to your fans?” “Hola, Rosie. I dedicate my life to the glory of Mexico. After I win, not only are we going to reconquer our lost territories, but we are going to sacrifice El Grande Bush on the ancient Mayan altar at Chichen Itzà by ripping out his still beating heart and feeding it to the pirhana fish that swim in the holy cenote. The whole ceremony is going to be filmed by Mel Gibson for his upcoming movie “Jews of The Jungle.” “Sounds great, sweetie. Only how do you plan to vanquish such a great warrior like El Grande Bush?” “I plan to shoot him with a curare-tipped blow dart and then, when he’s paralyzed, I’m going to stomp on his balls.” “And there’s the bell! The two fighters are circling each other warily, looking for an opening, and they are being watched by the masked referee, El Misterioso, who is also wearing a mask. Ed, what do we know about El Misterioso?” “Only that he gained fame as the fiercest lucha libre fighter in South America.” “Wow! Now El Grande Bush leaps forward and head butts Comandante Marco in the chest, but instead of falling onto the mat El Comandante does a backflip, kicking Bush in the face. Bush goes down and Comandante Marco sits on his face, locking him in a French Butt Hold, squeezing the air out of Bush like an Anaconda python between the steel vise grip of his powerful glutes.” “With his last, dying breath Bush reaches between Marco’s legs and manages to insert his two fingers in the man’s nostrils and flip him across the ring like a slingshot. Bush jumps to his feet and delivers a shattering roundkick to the head of El Comandante, who goes flying into El Misterioso who, enraged, punches him in the face. Hey, he’s not supposed to do that. He’s the ref!” “Wait a minute! Now El Misterioso grabs a folding chair and breaks it over the head of El Grande Bush.” “The audience is going berserk. The mariachi band Los Tigres Del Norte has started playing the romantic sentimental love song ‘Volver’, I suppose expressing their wish for a return of Mexico’s northern territories. Meantime, on the American side, Ted Nugent is shooting off machine gun riffs from his guitar. Oh no, that’s not his guitar, it’s a real machine gun! Now gunfire is breaking out all over the place and bullets are flying.” “Comandante Marco and El Grande Bush have recovered from the surprise attack by El Misterioso, and they’re punching the shit out of him in the corner of the ring. They rip off his mask.” “Omigod, it’s Hugo Chavez, the president of Venezuela, and he’s got an oil gusher shooting out of his butt!” “Well, let’s get out of here before the whole place explodes. Reporting to you from Taco Bell Arena, I’m Edificio Del Huevo.” “And I’m Rosita La Chingada…” “Wishing you a big cuevo en el culo, cabrones!” |
CHUCHA LIBRE
| 200motels POLITICS |
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We don't need any more pencil neck dorks running our lives. Hillary Clinton's body looks like a sack of Idaho potatoes, and all she's really got to run on is her future ex-husband, Whatsisname. Barack Obama, if I need to hear advice from a short pants kindergarten kid with jug ears, I'll send you a telegram. John Edwards looks like a Barbie Doll with that freakin haircut. Oh, the Republicans! These guys say that if your kid gets sick, just waterboard him. You got Mutt Romney, who announced that he was pleased that the whole country hates the Yankees. He insists that under his religion Jesus and Satan are not brothers. No - they're half-brothers, having been born of different mothers (who was Satan's mother, Lindsay Lohan?) Rudolph Giuliani buys his dresses in the same store where Oscar De La Hoya gets his panties. Mike Schmuckabee appears on TV in front of a shining cross like "The Exorcist" and then insists it's not a cross, it's a bookshelf. What am I, an idiot? If I appear on TV with Hugo Chavez' face in the background and then tell you it's a cloud formation, are you gonna buy that? The fact of the matter is that this country is a secular western democracy which has always been composed of many ethnic and religious groups. That's how the constitution was written, to reflect that reality. We don't need a candidate to shove his religion down the rest of our throats, or we will end up with the Spanish Inquisition. Fan Nation is a sports blog. We should be supporting a candidate who reflects our conviction that sport represents a superior value system for people's lives, and the present embodiment of that ethic is represented by only one person, Arnold Schwartznegger. He's not a Republican and he's not a Democrat. He never ran in a bogus primary campaign and he never told a bunch of lies about phony values. He IS his values, a huge muscular athlete who was six times Mr. Olympia, Mr. Universe and I don't know what-all else. His whole life has been in the gym pumping iron. He dated beautiful girls and he never wore a dress. He married a Kennedy woman and made millions as a movie star and worldwide sex symbol action hero. Unlike Ronald freakin Reagan, Schwartznegger really is a tough guy. And unlike Reagan, he's got brains! When the Democrats and Republicans in California were arguing like cats and dogs, Ol' Arnie just kicked in the door to the governor's mansion and installed himself in the big chair with a cigar, just like a Terminator movie, only it was real life. Just to prove it wasn't a fluke, he got re-elected, and he can get re-elected again if he wants to. New York mayor Michael Bloomberg is getting ready to run for president on an independent platform (what's he gonna do, go on TV in front of a shining Star of David and later claim that it was a hopscotch graffiti?) and he's trying to enlist Schwartznegger to get onboard as his running mate. This scenario has got the Clinton campaign rooted in fear, and I say "Right On!" Go for it, Arnie! And once you get the second slot, we can see about amending the constitution so that you can eventually get to the top, just like a freakin movie! A new broom sweeps clean, and after the mess we presently have, with Bush and all those other lame stiffs, America needs a new second act. |
| ARNOLD SCHWARTZNEGGER FOR PRESIDENT! |
| 200motels PRESIDENTIAL POLITICS |
| Comedy |
| Tragedy |
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| Bullshit |
| We don't need any more pencil neck dorks running our lives. Hillary Clinton's body looks like a sack of Idaho potatoes, and all she's really got to run on is her future ex-husband, Whatsisname. Barack Obama, if I need to hear advice from a short pants kindergarten kid with jug ears, I'll send you a telegram. John Edwards looks like a Barbie Doll with that freakin haircut. Oh, the Republicans! These guys say that if your kid gets sick, just waterboard him. You got Mutt Romney, who announced that he was pleased that the whole country hates the Yankees. He insists that under his religion Jesus and Satan are not brothers. No - they're half-brothers, having been born of different mothers (who was Satan's mother, Lindsay Lohan?) Rudolph Giuliani buys his dresses in the same store where Oscar De La Hoya gets his panties. Mike Schmuckabee appears on TV in front of a shining cross like "The Exorcist" and then insists it's not a cross, it's a bookshelf. What am I, an idiot? If I appear on TV with Hugo Chavez' face in the background and then tell you it's a cloud formation, are you gonna buy that? The fact of the matter is that this country is a secular western democracy which has always been composed of many ethnic and religious groups. That's how the constitution was written, to reflect that reality. We don't need a candidate to shove his religion down the rest of our throats, or we will end up with the Spanish Inquisition. Fan Nation is a sports blog. We should be supporting a candidate who reflects our conviction that sport represents a superior value system for people's lives, and the present embodiment of that ethic is represented by only one person, Arnold Schwartznegger. He's not a Republican and he's not a Democrat. He never ran in a bogus primary campaign and he never told a bunch of lies about phony values. He is his values, a huge muscular athlete who was six times Mr. Olympia, Mr. Universe and I don't know what-all else. His whole life has been in the gym pumping iron. He dated beautiful girls and he never wore a dress. He married a Kennedy woman and made millions as a movie star and worldwide sex symbol action hero. Unlike Ronald freakin Reagan, Schwartznegger really is a tough guy. And unlike Reagan, he's got brains! When the Democrats and Republicans in California were arguing like cats and dogs, Ol' Arnie just kicked in the door to the governor's mansion and installed himself in the big chair with a cigar, just like a Terminator movie, only it was real life. Just to prove it wasn't a fluke, he got re-elected, and he can get re-elected again if he wants to. New York mayor Michael Bloomberg is getting ready to run for president on an independent platform (what's he gonna do, go on TV in front of a shining Star of David and later claim that it was a hopscotch graffiti?) and he's trying to enlist Schwartznegger to get onboard as his running mate. This scenario has got the Clinton campaign rooted in fear, and I say "Right On!" Go for it, Arnie! And once you get the second slot, we can see about amending the constitution so that you can eventually get to the top, just like a freakin movie! A new broom sweeps clean, and after the mess we presently have, with Bush and all those other lame stiffs, America needs a new second act. |
