It is to laugh

In any walk of life, funny rarely equals art. They Might Be Giants will always have their own cultish following, but both the mainstream and the critics are generally dismissive of them. Why? Because they happen to write humorous and lighthearted lyrics. How often do you see a comedic film win the Academy Award? Sitcoms are often relegated to "trashy" status whereas shows like House or Law and Order are considered "must see TV."

The same is true in e-fedding. Comedy characters aren't taken seriously by some in this hobby. Some fedheads won't push them. They won't get their shots to shine for the mere fact that they aspire to make people laugh rather than tell these oh oh OMG SO IMPORTANT serious stories and cut AGGRO INTENZE promos.

To me, that doesn't set well at all. It's not so much that I have a propensity towards handling funny characters. It also isn't so much that a lot of my favorite characters are funny characters. Both of those are true. However, my feelings on this subject are similar on women in e-wrestling. I think the best writers in the hobby should be pushed, not just the best writers in a certain style, with the rider that they're the best writers writing about wrestling. It's not too unreasonable to demand that in a wrestling-centric hobby that people write about wrestling, right? We've had this discussion before though :p

Anyway, the point is, no one should be punished because they don't want to try and be so serious that it hurts. Honestly, while bad comedy is really bad, it's not as annoying as when serious stuff gets really pretentious. I really hate pretentiousness, especially when you get it in the hobby and you have people fawning all over it just because they can't understand it, or because it's long for length's sake, or because someone thinks it's hip and cutting-edge.

Besides, it's WAY harder to write good comedy than it is to write good serious stuff. Well, not really. It's hard to write good anything, but let me put it this way; mediocre comedy comes off really bad. Mediocre serious writing is passable because it's not as painful to read. You can kinda slog through someone's generic intense stuff and not wince because there are people out there, both in real life and in the wrestling business, who actually talk like that and get over. However, most of the time, when comedy falls flat, it really falls flat because a) it's probably written in verbiage that isn't common to every day language and b) it ends up looking like you didn't spend any time thinking about what you were going to say, even if you spend the whole night (which, with humor, is probably why it wasn't funny).

So basically, the risk is greater. Shouldn't people who take that kind of risk be rewarded with the same fruits that everyone else do? It's bullshit that people who write comedy get passed to the side just because they aren't intense all the time. Well here's a newsflash. The Rock, Chris Jericho, Steve Austin, Kurt Angle and Eddy Guerrero weren't super-serious all the time. They had some of the funniest moments and promos in all of wrestling and no one thinks of them as any less of a wrestler because of it.

Now, I'm not advocating that blatant comedy gimmicks be pushed just for the sake of being pushed. I mean, Joey Baggadonuts isn't main event material, and I wouldn't handle him expecting to get a push. But characters like Professor Tremendous, Lowell Dot Com, Joey Melton... characters who make people laugh, who have a way with words that isn't always so serious and intense... they should be rewarded and not punished.

Granted, those characters have gotten accolades within their feds, thanks to openminded fedheads and communities. But within some, ignorance remains. To those folks, I have two words:

Lighten up.

The Roderick McRatrick Story

So I was talking to Jeff Ward today (Teh Deville) about many things. Hockey, Olympic pigheadedness, the state of PTC RPing (he agrees with me, for what it's worth) and then why he quit. He gave me his reasons. It was mainly a mental thing on his part. I'm not going to be specific, but there's a lot of stuff going on inside his head, and he felt that getting out for now would be best for him. Probably because at one time, I felt like he did.

Once upon a time, I almost quit e-fedding. Back in 2002-03, I started to get really, really fed up with politics and OOC feuds in A1E. Many of the readers here who were around that scene at the time know the details, and I'm not going to get into them because a) I'm ashamed at my actions and about some of the things I got pissed off about and b) it's neither here nor there.

But I really had a lot of stress going on that I couldn't deal with, and I was burning out hardcore. I mean, I still liked the idea of e-fedding, but at the time, A1E was just unpalatable, MBE had closed and the FW.com world was not an option because of all the ignorant acrimony I had towards them at the time. So I quit.

I never really lost the itch though. And a good amount of time later, I wanna say six months, but now that I think about it, it could have been longer. But anyway, later on, I had an idea for a character that I was only doing for my own personal amusement (and for the amusement of anyone else who thought he would be funny). I didn't care if he won or lost. I just wanted an outlet to make people laugh like I had used to with Jericoholic and an outlet to satire the hell out of folks who I thought were taking the hobby down the wrong path at the time. (Oone of those guys was Brunk... and now he's one of my closest and trusted confidants... now that's irony folks!)

So Roderick McRatrick was born, and at the same time, so was Squiggy Jackson and eventually every one of his Band of Merry Scumbags, like Rusty Joe, "Rodney McRipped," Wigglytuff McDipoleson, Stoney McGanjaman, Lord Tophattington, the dueling disembodied voices, Helga and of course, Lindsay's favorite, the Ghost of Steve Guttenberg.

And I really didn't care whether I won or lost with him. Really, I expected to lose nearly every match I had with him, but I guess he clicked with the voters in instances where my opponents would show. He had a fairly good winning percentage, and according to Jenkins' ENN 250, Roddy hit #8 in 2003 (or was it '04?). That was a whoa moment for me.

But despite all the success he had, I really didn't care if he won the matches or not. And that was a liberating feeling. Not going into matches with your stomach churning whether you win or lose. I discovered the true meaning of e-fedding.

Having fun.

Handling Roderick McRatrick definitely changed my view on the hobby, and without him, I probably wouldn't be where I'm at today. I might not even be e-fedding.

Now, I'd be lying if I said I didn't totally care about wins and losses. I do, but it's not as bad as it was in my first A1E run. I mean, I still wanna be the A1E Champion, and I wanna win titles wherever I go. But it's at least sharing the front seat with putting out a compelling storyline and writing amusing or compelling segments for each show.

I think the lesson for everyone here is that this hobby is only partially competitive. You should be in it for your own enjoyment, and if you're not getting enjoyment out of it, well you should think of another way to get it, or just quit.

But I would advise against quitting for too long.

And how can you get enjoyment out of the hobby?

Well... join an angle fed.

Fantasy booking

This week, I'm gonna try my hand at some fantasy booking for just one match, but it's a doozy. I'm gonna think of what happens when the three titans of the e-fedding world collide in one match...

Kodiak Vic Creed vs. The Spoiler vs. Dan Ryan

The match starts out heavy and intense. KVC and Spoiler start by slugging it out, with Ryan picking his spots very cerebrally. Soon, Spoiler gets a slight advantage on KVC and goads Ryan into the full-fledged fray to make it a three way slugfest. After about 5 minutes of heavy fighting, the three suddenly realize that fighting each other is no good. They all confer in the middle of the ring and oddly leave the arena.

They're next sighted landing on the shores of France, armed with nothing but their ring gear and their fists and legs. They're stopped by a group of French customs agents. The next thing you know, the customs agents are planted about 6 inches into the ground. The local police are no match. France surrenders with no hesitation 4 hours later.

Despite their rousing success in France, the alliance almost derails before it starts. Spoiler attempts to eat the Eiffel Tower. KVC is hungry too and he wants some. They bicker. Thankfully for Dan Ryan, cooler heads prevail.

France is not enough for the trio. They move onward to stiffer resistance in Germany,. The German military brings out the heavy guns, but it's no use. Dan Ryan catches bullets with his teeth. Cruise missiles just bounce of Spoiler's red-and-black mask. Vic Creed, the tank-tossing champion in Alaska for the last seven years, just hurls Panzers like Roger Clemens throws fastballs.

One by one, the smaller countries fall. Switzerland might have been neutral before, but that is no concern of Ryan, KVC and Spoils. Ryan carelessly steps on Luxembourg, crushing the country under his boots. Liechtenstein bites it when a missile rams unexploded into Creed's gut, causing him to vomit all over the small, landlocked country. The puke melts all infrastructure. The people have no chance.

While heads of state tremble under Ryan's demands. While KVC keeps the local tank units at bay, Spoiler invades small towns as villagers flee. The ones who remain pray for mercy in the local chapels from a God they fear is pissed at them. IT's not God who's angry. It's just three, really burly professional wrestlers.

One by one, the countries of Europe fall. Denmark, Poland, Austria, Croatia. Hungary falls accidentally, as a random Spoiler burp splits the capital city in twain, back as it was before the Middle Ages, Buda and Pest.

The powers are desperate. The United States sends nuclear capabilities at the loud pleas of the prime minsters of Romania and the Baltic States. They catch a break when all three sit down for a light lunch of pita bread and the blood of their enemies somewhere in Estonia. The US catches them by surprise with a 100-megaton nuke. Estonia is leveled. Survivors mutate almost instantaneously, or grow tumors the size of grapefruits. Creed, Ryan and Naitch though? Unscathed. No wait, their powers increased.

The world panics. Every single one of Vladimir Putin's blood vessels burst simultaneously at the thought of them invading Russia. The world begins a candlelight vigil hoping to stave off the Apocalypse.

But there's no Russian invasion. Just like that, the three disappear from the map, just hours before they would have reached St. Petersburg. No trace whatsoever.

What happened? Well, who knows.

If Jon Katz is to be believed, Brock Estell set a trap so clever that if he himself bgan to explain it, his head would have collapsed upon itself like a neutron star. Many people speculate that Tom Siegel invited them over for breakfast and served them Eggo waffles spiked with enough GHB to last a frat boy througout his 7 year stay at college.

But I know the truth. From an anonymous tip, provided by Lamont Hollywood, the three returned to their home planet to stave off an impending crisis. He didn't say much else except that it involved Joey Melton, midgets, biscuits and perhaps those guys from the Poser Mobile commercial.

Not much else needs to be said.

(Please forgive the above weirdness.... I had a stressful weekend at work, and I think this is the product of 18 hours of mind-numbing retail work, sandwiched around reading the NFW West card this week, which by the way, was fantastic)

E-Fed Link of the Week for August 8th

Rook Black and Frank Heimdal have a little fun with notes.

This is about as close to must-read as an out-of-match promo gets.