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22 December 2023
One is a certifiable genius. The other is Vinnie. Together, they are two of the most brilliant inventors in all of Pangaea. Wayne recognized this, and has given them a column to share with you the wonders of their progressive, modern minds.
THIS PART WAS WRITTEN BY VINNIE
A great man once said, \"That was a poem... by Heidenreich.\"
I don’t know exactly how that applies to what I’m about to tell you. Just know that it applies.
See, last week, my partner in journalistic crime (Staff Member #716) and I decided it was time to take a vacation. After last month’s patent office fiasco (Curse you, Fphatty!), and the forthcoming nervous breakdown that is our workload for the next print issue, a little \"R & R\" was much needed.
So, on our way to meet the rest of the TLC crew for our usual WWE SmackDown! viewing, we swung by the travel agent’s office to pick up some brochures. And since there’s always a guaranteed filler match, we perused our possibilities: Bermuda? Yawn. Cancun? Boring. Paris? What are we, gay? Don’t answer that.
Frustrated, I returned to my beer and the ensuing brawl on the TV screen, featuring the aforementioned poet laureate versus the future grocery bagger Booker T. Equally dismayed, #716 leaned back in his chair and muttered, almost under his breath, \"We should just fucking go to Wrestlevania.\"
You know those scenes in TV shows or movies where someone says something that comes as a bit of a surprise, and they dub in the sound of a record player needle scratching across a playing record? Well, that happened. At least in my head it did. I’d never heard of Wrestlevania, and didn’t even know it was real until #716 assured me it was. And a late-night trip to the travel agent resulted in the second opinion I needed: the not-available-for-public-purchase documentary WWE The People.
From that film you not only learn of the origins of the small island nation founded by Vince McMahon and Co. (it was a reactionary measure to Congress imposing an unfair \"Pre-emptive Moral Defamation\" tax on the WWE in 1999), but you also learn of all the wonderful attractions it boasts.
And while the film also tells of its untimely closing and subsequent abandonment, my writing this from our non-stop return flight from Wrestlevania confirms all the rumors that, with the WWE’s new rise in popularity, comes the re-opening of one of the best-kept secrets in modern geography.
#716, how about you stop watching Hell Comes To Frogtown (our in-flight movie) and give the people some of that sweet detail music?
I don’t know exactly how that applies to what I’m about to tell you. Just know that it applies.
See, last week, my partner in journalistic crime (Staff Member #716) and I decided it was time to take a vacation. After last month’s patent office fiasco (Curse you, Fphatty!), and the forthcoming nervous breakdown that is our workload for the next print issue, a little \"R & R\" was much needed.
So, on our way to meet the rest of the TLC crew for our usual WWE SmackDown! viewing, we swung by the travel agent’s office to pick up some brochures. And since there’s always a guaranteed filler match, we perused our possibilities: Bermuda? Yawn. Cancun? Boring. Paris? What are we, gay? Don’t answer that.
Frustrated, I returned to my beer and the ensuing brawl on the TV screen, featuring the aforementioned poet laureate versus the future grocery bagger Booker T. Equally dismayed, #716 leaned back in his chair and muttered, almost under his breath, \"We should just fucking go to Wrestlevania.\"
You know those scenes in TV shows or movies where someone says something that comes as a bit of a surprise, and they dub in the sound of a record player needle scratching across a playing record? Well, that happened. At least in my head it did. I’d never heard of Wrestlevania, and didn’t even know it was real until #716 assured me it was. And a late-night trip to the travel agent resulted in the second opinion I needed: the not-available-for-public-purchase documentary WWE The People.
From that film you not only learn of the origins of the small island nation founded by Vince McMahon and Co. (it was a reactionary measure to Congress imposing an unfair \"Pre-emptive Moral Defamation\" tax on the WWE in 1999), but you also learn of all the wonderful attractions it boasts.
And while the film also tells of its untimely closing and subsequent abandonment, my writing this from our non-stop return flight from Wrestlevania confirms all the rumors that, with the WWE’s new rise in popularity, comes the re-opening of one of the best-kept secrets in modern geography.
#716, how about you stop watching Hell Comes To Frogtown (our in-flight movie) and give the people some of that sweet detail music?
THIS PART WAS WRITTEN BY #716
If you, the reader, ever get a chance to take a trip to Wresylvania (its proper spelling), make sure to go for at least a week. Me and Vinnie (\"That’s Mister Baggadonuts!\") were moving at a non-stop pace during our three-day stay, and we still didn’t get to do everything we wanted.
Friday: After touching down at HBK International Airport just outside of Wresylvania’s capital city, SmackTown, the first order of business was to find some food. I wanted to eat at the StratusSphere, SmackTown’s only romantic rotating restaurant. The understandably creeped-out Vinnie suggested an Italian joint called Johnny’s instead, known for their world-famous Stamboli. So we compromised and just went to Funacho (Mexican restaurant numbah one!). After dinner, we saw that we were just in time for the last night of the State Flair. We rode the Tilt-A-Whirl Suplex, visited Rick Rude’s Hall of Mirrors, and saw the bearded lady-- imagine a cross between Randy Savage and Miss Elizabeth.
Saturday: The next morning we browsed through the brochures in our hotel lobby, looking for possible activities for the day. Being a couple of true nature boys ourselves, we settled on the Heidenreich Ride \'n\' Hike, located just a brief taxi ride out of town. This 3-H Club-sponsored campsite features miles upon miles of nature trails, and also offers pony rides if you don’t care to walk. And we all know how much Vinnie loves ponies. On the way back into town we decided to stop at the local zoo, run by George \"The Animal Preserve\" Steele. Mr. Steele showed us all sorts of exotic creatures, such as rabid wolverines (Gulo Gulo), rhynos (Diceros Manbeastis), and hawks (Legionus Doomis), among other animals donated by the World Wildlife Fund.
Sunday: On our way back to the airport, we stumbled across a rare treat: a few streets were blocked off for the filming of the new Terry Bollea movie, I Heart Hulkabees. We stood in silent admiration at the Edge of the set, watching Mr. Bollea deliver one of his best performances since Lord Of The Rings, all while juggling the task of directing the project. Unfortunately, shooting was halted upon the arrival of Marvel Comics lawyers, serving the incredible Hulkster a cease and desist. As Mr. Bollea began explaining the intricacies of international copyright statutes to the attorneys, continuously asking them what they were going to do, me and Vinnie shouldered our bags once more and hailed a cab.
It’s at this point that I would normally wrap this article up with some kind of profound introspection, reflecting upon our experiences in Wresylvania before we return to the grind of daily life. But I just don’t think that’s possible while watching Rowdy Roddy Piper try to get his fuck on in Hell Comes To Frogtown. If we were watching Back In Action, maybe....
artid
3037
Old Image
7_8_vin716.jpg
issue
vol 7 - issue 08 (apr 2005)
section
stories