Bonus Poem of the Week: What’s Wrong with Women’s Wrestling Today?

Welcome back, readers!

You know, after having had this blog for nearly two months now, I’ve been paying attention to the kind of traffic I’ve been getting, and I’ve noticed two things:

1. Most of the likes I’ve received from you folks are for my posts where I either talk about my books being released on certain websites such as Amazon.com, Kobobooks.com, BarnesandNoble.com, Diesel-eBooks.com, WHSmith.co.uk, and of course Smashwords.com or provide you, my readers, with one of my latest poems.
2. Many of the hits I’ve been getting from people visiting my blog from the outside are from people who have been Googling things up on professional wrestling—women’s wrestling particular—on account of the announcement I’d made May 30 concerning my upcoming third novel, UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment.

As such, I’ve come up with the inspiration to honor both trends and promote this fourth book of mine with the help of a poem that I’ve finally composed after what I feel to be far too long. Granted, it wasn’t until April 25 of this year that I at long last decided to start up this blog and share my writing with the world, but as crazy as it sounds, I honestly believe that maybe—just maybe, mind you—if there’d been a poem written on this particular topic and posted on the Internet by me or anyone else around the July or August of 2008, Jonathan Vargas, the financier of the much-hated (and rightfully so, in my opinion) women’s wrestling promotion Wrestlicious, would have been inspired to donate his Power Ball winnings to a wrestling promoter with both more respect for and more wisdom and insight concerning professional wrestling as a whole than the likes of former Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling ring announcer Johnny Cafarella, otherwise known as the founder of the original GLOW knockoff federation (a true oxymoron, if ever there was one), CRUSH. Who knows? Maybe Mr. “J.V. Rich” would have invested in Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, which had a smoking hot Knockouts Division at the time that was garnering the highest ratings for TNA Impact and would have very well benefitted having its own one- to two-hour televised brand back then, complete with its own unique booking committee and management team. Oh, well…that’s hindsight for you, and sadly, the opportunity is lost, both for Jonathan and the TNA Knockouts. Nonetheless, for those of you who still have hope that professional wrestling—women’s wrestling in particular—will once again regain the prestige it once had back in the “good old days,” whichever era that may be in your opinion, then please feel free to find some enjoyment in the following composition, where I share with you all the things that tick me off as a fan of modern-day women’s professional wrestling. Therefore, without further ado, in honor of every woman in the pro wrestling industry who has busted her heavenly hindquarters to earn the respect of the boys in the back for whatever promotion she may have been a part of once upon a time…here you go!

*****

What’s Wrong with Women’s Wrestling Today?

June 20, 2012

 

I sure miss my beloved LPWA—

Greatest women’s wrestling ever back in the day.

Sadly, that was from 1989 to ’92,

And now when it comes to mainstream women’s wrestling, I’m screwed.

Actually, the scene’s been trash for a good number of years now,

And unless something happens to help it move forward, I fear how

Women’s wrestling will fare in this age of chauvinism,

‘Cause let’s face it: These days, there’s far too much sexism

Underlying something that used to be special and pure,

And athleticism in this sport’s bound to become even more obscure.

You see, folks, it’s all about sex appeal nowadays,

Or at least it is with the garbage we see on TV these days.

Throw in a not-so-healthy dose of lowbrow comedy,

And you’ve got a product that’s in serious need of a remedy.

No kidding, I’m so sick of seeing only skinny bimbos

With blond hair, fake breasts, and legs and lips akimbo

Hogging the whole of the spotlight from truly talented gals

And being booked to go over them. Come on now, pal!

Where’s Patty Bunya-Ananta and all the other plus-sized beauties

And all the brunette, redheaded, and real-breasted cuties?

Moreover, why can’t we see any solid wrestling action?

Apparently, it’s all about gratuitous “satisfaction.”

Yes, that was innuendo, but trust me, sweeties and fellas,

That wasn’t quite as bad as the jokes the commentators tell us

When they’re so busy drooling over the girls in their string bikinis,

Doing naught but showing themselves off like their bodies were Lamborghinis.

Worse yet is how their tacky, tasteless jests get on my nerves,

More than Vince Russo’s booking with all his illogical swerves.

Fat jokes, sex jokes, and alcohol jokes galore—

That’s all that Steve Blance and his ilk ever have in store,

Coupled with a laugh track. Yeah, that’s not insulting.

Apparently, we can’t tell what material shall be resulting

In a sea of laughs rather than an ocean of jeers and groans.

Worse yet is the girls being suited up in gimmicks that aren’t their own—

Tired old porn star “characters” based on perverts’ wettest dreams,

Reciting lines so unfunny they’d make any sane person scream.

As for wrestling…bah! Forget sportswomanship and class!

Who needs ‘em when you’ve got simulated catfights out the ass

On top of twenty-woman battle royales for the title,

All the while true character development sits idle

So that the bookers can carry on creating skits so lame

That the girls only look more foolish yet for putting up with such pain?

Oh, and when we do get wrestling, guess how long the matches last:

Five minutes tops! Yes, indeed…we’re talking woefully fast.

Then again, who wants to watch a match for ten minutes straight

When it’s a pillow fight, lingerie match, or other second-rate

“Specialty” match that focuses more on shallow T&A

And less on the athleticism for which wrestling fans really pay?

I swear, if I see any more mud wrestling or “B&P,”

I’ll scream ‘til my throat is raw and put my fist through my TV,

And don’t even get me started about female wrestlers in Playboy.

The mere thought of any female athlete becoming a boy toy

Disgusts me beyond belief and makes me embarrassed to be a fan

Of sports in general. Hell, it even embarrasses me as a man!

‘Cause let’s face it: I don’t watch sports of any kind for sex appeal.

I watch them to see skill and competition, as is most people’s deal.

The same hold true for professional wrestling, both women’s and men’s,

And honestly, I can’t remember for the life of me the last time when

Women in pro wrestling were treated and looked at seriously

Instead of like comic relief and eye candy. I swear, it’s jealousy—

Jealousy of certain men who want all the glory for themselves

And would much rather see their female counterparts’ careers be shelved

Than have these women outperform and outdraw their lazy asses

And keep the business fresh and interesting, and I think it’s classless

To hold women back from succeeding in any industry

And prevent them from becoming the best at their trade that they can be.

After all, though it’s just as wrong to claim that they’re superior,

Let it be known that women are men’s equals, not their inferiors.

Thus, if you wouldn’t present men like prostitutes in wrestling,

Then don’t treat women as such, for equality’s the best thing

To keep pro wrestling and, in fact, any business alive,

So pass the girls the ball, already, if you want the scene to thrive.

No more bikinis, no more gimmicks, no more raunchy comedy!

Yay to equality, death to sexism—that’s how it should be.

*****

And that, my friends, if you’ll pardon the bad pun, is my idea of a “poetry slam.” To tell you all the truth, I really wanted to add just one more couplet to the end of this work simply for the heck of it, but I think I’ll save that for my second official poetry anthology. When exactly will I publish that book, you might be asking? Honestly, I’m not sure. Let’s see how many poems I can compose between now and then, first of all, and secondly, let’s see how well The Sun Shan’t Set on Me! Poems from My Younger Days (Ages 16 to 23) does on the market before anthology number two becomes anything more than a mere idea. I’d like to crank out at least one more novel during that time as well, and believe me—I have more than my fair share of ideas for what that book just might be about. In the meantime, thank you all for once again visiting my blog and checking out my stuff, and as always, don’t be a stranger; keep your eyes peeled on my author page at Smashwords.com and on all the previously mentioned websites where my work has appeared for my next novel and any additional work I might put out in the not-too-distant future. Also, feel free to purchase a copy of my currently existing books in case you haven’t, and until we meet again, happy reading!

Regards,

Dustin M. Weber

PS: If there are any suggestions for what segments any of you out there would like me to add to this blog in addition to my “Poem of the Week” every Sunday and any and all announcements I’ve made regarding my books (as well as any and all bonus poems I’ve included here on my blog at random times), please feel free to let me know in a reply to this post. I’ll be sure to respond to them in one way or another, too, especially considering that I want to add as much content to this blog as possible before it grows stale. Until next time, then, thanks again!