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/wrestling /guests /(Bitchfactor) |
| Guest Columns | (Bitchfactor) |
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I Was A Whore For WCW Yup, I shore was! How's this for proof: WCW/nWo Megastars Are you ready to rumble? Then WCW/nWo Megastars is for you -- a photo-heavy, magazine format, 64-page book featuring the biggest names in the professional wrestling universe: the megastars of WCW! Grouping wrestlers by their affiliation (WCW, nWo Hollywood, nWo Wolfpac), this perfectbound volume features full-page color photos paired with minimal text describing each featured wrestler's stats and career. A must for WCW fans, pro-wrestling fans, sports fans, and all the kids who are looking for a simple and exciting guide to understanding what their friends are talking about -- the ultra-hot WCW phemomenon! That was written by my very own hand, folks. Oooh, wait, how about this one? WCW/nWo Megabook This exciting 96-page book will give wrestling fans everything they wanted to know about what goes on in the ring and behind the scenes at the world's most popular professional wrestling organization -- World Championship Wrestling! Laden with full-color pictures, informational sidebars, "pop" text, quotable-quotes, and fun facts, the WCW/nWo Megabook will capture the excitement, humor, and drama of WCW Wrestling on its pages. Intense photos of WCW superstars in action will be featured alongside "glamour" shots, vintage photos, and candid, behind-the-scenes snaps. Timelines detailing the ups and downs of wrestlers' careers will make for engrossing, effortless reading, while a compendium of wrestler quotes and fun facts will have wrestling fans laughing out loud. An indispensable must-buy for every kid who's ever watched wrestling -- or wanted to get in on the action. Also makes a perfect inexpensive, non-toy gift for hard-to-buy-for boys. I make myself cringe. But wait, there's more! WCW/nWo Superslammers This slammin' series features one WCW/nWo superstar per book -- the only book series to pack the biggest names in wrestling with the hottest photos and the coolest inside info! Each glossy, 32-page, magazine-style, saddlestitched volume of Superslammers provides fans and even the most casual wrestling viewers with high-octane excitement at a low price! Eye-catching graphic design, pull-out posters, stats, info, and quotes make each Superslammers book a totally packed experience, whole the gorgeous full-color photos... Er, "gorgeous?" What the fuck was I smoking? I can't go on with that one. But I will tell you that they're "not just readable, they're collectible!" Hold on, I have one last sin to confess: WCW/nWo Wildcards Can you fit a professional wrestling superstar in your pocket? Now you can, thanks to Wildcards -- the mini-book series featuring the hottest heroes and villains of WCW and the nWo! These books may only be trading-card sized, but they're filled with enough bite-sized info and kick-butt pictures to really pack a punch.... It just gets better and better, doesn't it. I feel dirty. But damn, do I know how to sell or what? Y'see, back in the golden days of WCW... back when that 88- week ratings victory was speeding headlong into assisted suicide thanks to WCW-appointed Kevorkians Karl Malone and Jay Leno... I was in bed with WCW. Er, in a manner of speaking. I worked in the sick, twisted, skank-nasty world of children's publishing. My job was to exploit the Youth of America, essentially. I hated myself for it. But I didn't hate myself enough, apparently, because what better way to truly fuck my self-esteem then to decide to develop a publishing program around pro-wrestling? My heart was in the right place, honest. I was brought up in Minnesota, a child of the AWA. My father worked at Minneapolis' Ground Zero of furniture rental, which brought him in close contact with every pro wrestler in the state, so naturally my Saturday afternoons were spent glued to the telly to catch the latest from the Gagnes, "Rock & Roll" Buck Zumhoff, Adrian Adonis, and the Weasel himself, to mention but a very few. And then, when I was old enough to know better, I had to go and get into WCW. Jesus F. Christ. And somehow, in the midst of plotting, scene by scene, each and every piece of shit monthly volume of the fucking piece of shit teen romance series I had been fucking consigned by fucking Satan Himself to oversee, I got this *brilliant* idea. Why not build a publishing program around that immensely popular phenomenon, yes indeed, which is known as professional wrestling? My God, who could possibly resist the sheer brute force of my genius? Just about everyone I worked with, as I first pitched this shit just over two years ago. After persistent lobbying (to the point where I had gotten sick and tired of the idea... but it was the principle of the thing, dammit) and mainstream media attention thanks (?) to the participation of *respected celebrities* such as, ooh, Jay Leno, by God, that's when my coworkers stopped looking at me funny and proclaimed me a fucking savant. Oh, and later on the bosses blamed me for not being persistent *enough* so that we could have caught this wave just as it was peaking, of course, but fuck them. Anyway, once things started rolling, I got hooked up with WCW's former licensing folks. Wow, now there was a fucking braintrust. Pffffft. I wish, oh how I wish, that I still had copies of the agreements I'd drafted, but I left those back at my office after I quit, and besides, putting any of that stuff up here would probably somehow get me sued. (My former place of business is about to tank, so it's rumored [cue Bischoff hyena laugh here], so posting my former intellectual property is certainly the least of their worries right now.) Basically problems arose from my requesting that WCW provide us with talent plans and storylines with advance notice deemed "reasonable" by both parties (cue Bischoff hyena laugh here). Rep: "What do you mean by 'reasonable?'" (Book publishing being a notoriously slow business, if the project had gone off as planned, we'd have a Jericho WCW book hitting store shelves, like, right about now. That's what I had meant by "reasonable.") So the whole idea was completely doomed from square one, and the complete disintegration of plot and logic in WCW would have surely led me to utter insanity had things actually taken off. Not like it looked like it would ever would have. At first publishers wouldn't even hear me out. "The audience doesn't know how to read," was a popular response. "White trash don't spend money on books." "Too violent," the rest said. "Not for kids." And eventually, "Hey, isn't the WWF more popular?" Of course, by then, it was true. There were a few publishers who bit, but when I'd go to meet with them, things got worse. Apparently they'd assumed that I'd come up with the idea as a joke. I'd say "heel" or "work" in the course of a pitch and they'd stop me and say, "Wait a minute... you don't actually *watch* this stuff, do you?" They'd honestly get spooked. Once my boss kicked me under the table when I'd used "the vocab" during a pitch because, apparently, he didn't think it was good for business. By the time I quit publishing completely, I had come to utterly hate WCW, not just because they'd completely unraveled into unwatchability, but because I was sick and tired of having to defend WCW, not to mention pro-wrestling in general, to everyone I dealt with in the business world. But oh, I have some great memories. Here's what my time spent whoring myself to WCW got me: Hosted by Eric Bischoff, with Mean Gene doing intros, as I recall. Watching Bischoff and Mean Gene chatting all friendly-like before the speeches began warped my mind. They're both really short. And Bischoff had a total lisp. Guests were DDP, the Giant, and THE MAN. Flair was coaxed into doing a nice "whoo" by the assembled. Giant was wearing a neck brace, and he said he'd hurt himself while running into a Dunkin' Donuts. Flair said his WCW action figure having a better win-loss record in WCW than he did. DDP had nothing to say. I walked out with autographed 8x10s of Wight (who winked at me, oooh) and Bischoff (for laughs... you think he's gross on TV, try coming within two feet of him) and Flair, ohmigod. I babbled about the AWA and shook his hand and generally acted like an idiot in his presence. Say what you will about him now but damn, that man is a fucking rock star. I also got a nWo b/w thermal travel mug and t-shirt, and some other shit I can't remember. "Surprise special guests" were Mean Gene, High Voltage, Public Enemy, the Nitro Girls, and hot damn, Der Tanzenkind Alex Wright. I dragged along about 6 co-workers, all of whom were right impressed that I'd managed to predict Wright would be there. How could he not have been? The nature of the event just *smelled* of it. I'd naturally forgotten to bring my Series 3 Wright action figure along (complete with $5.99 Value Drug discount sticker) for autographing, like an idiot. Alex Wright is pretty damn tall. Entertainment was provided by Public Enemy breaking stuff, High Voltage doing something or other, and large TV screens broadcasting Nitro (Rodman, Detroit, Bischoff giving Elizabeth cooties, blah blah). And the Nitro Girls! Prancing around during commercial breaks, throwing us free stuff, covered from head to toe in silver body paint, God bless 'em! It was the Nitro Girl debut of Tygresssssss, incidentally. At least that's what they told us. I found out too late that we all could have had our picture taken with them sparkly Nitro Girls, for a price I'm sure. I'm still kicking myself for not doing that. They were drumming up interest for Nitro Girl Body Paint (TM) (from Clairol! Or L'Oreal, I can't remember which). Hey, why hasn't that stuff made it to my local Rite-Aid yet? I thought the Nitro Girls were so popular! Camera crews were running around shooting stuff for a future Nitro, but it never got shown. Not at all surprising. They'd go around, like, asking what people thought of Sting joining the Wolfpac. (Most common answer: "Whaaat?") Gratefully, since there was an open bar, I could barely walk by the time I left. Thank you, WCW! It was great for allowing me to sloppily stagger away whenever the licensing reps tried to corner me to schmooze. Between that and my Goth office wear, I made a great impression, I'm sure. I wound up stumbling out of there a bunch of WCW temporary tattoos and lollipops. Lollipops. I shit you not. So basically, eighteen months of misery netted me a night of free drinking and a one-minute audience with Ric Flair. Worth it? Ehhh. But hey, don't get me wrong. If any of these projects winds up on a bookshelf someday, someone somewhere owes me a fucking check. Kim (Bitchfactor) [slash] wrestling Mail the Author |
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