Dean sends me shit and sends me shit, attempting to feed me the quality puro, but you can't feed a man a kobe steak who'd rather suck on a bottle of cheap wine. I have always had cultural blocks against the puro, and this is purely an internal thing as opposed to a prejudice of any sort. I think in words as opposed to images like what probably most folks do, pretty much reworking anything and everything I experience during the day into words, for better or worse, most of which never sees the light past my stream of consciousness. Shit, I even tend to masturbate to forum letters as opposed to the pictorials. So for me, knowing no Japanese, it makes it hard to experience the puro without becoming frustrated with my own mental make-up's inability to process what I'm watching in a way I enjoy. Luckily, I never really started watching lucha until after I had a perfunctory amount of both book-sense and jobsite Spanish to make it far easier to digest.
But I will try again. Dean sent me a bunch of shit, and then even told me what matches I should motherfuckin' watch with my ignorant ass, and this match from a Dragongate show was one of the ones he bolded up in his email to me. Isn't Dragongate the one with all the gay shit? I certainly hope so, because the best wrestling I've ever seen is definitely some gay shit.
Fuckin' Black Crowes music and a bunch of freak indy rock looking Japs... this'll probably be right up my alley, as more than even wrestling, I am a huge mark for stupid shit. And Chris Robinson's New Earth Mud CD is the best hippie music that's been made in the last ten years, far better than all that jam band bullshit that's supposed to be Grateful Dead v3.0. And people follow that shit like it's a real band nowadays, following shit like Disco Biscuits and the shitty-ass String Cheese Incident. If there is a worse band than the String Cheese Incident on this planet earth, then I haven't had seven different misguided humans attempt to explain to me for far too long how great they are.
Ahh... weird techno-prog mood music in the dark with fans holding glow sticks and some strange voice-over the P.A. system... this is motherfuckin' wrestling. But again I am forced to ask myself, has anything ever synthesized been rockin'? I think not. Once the weird voice-over stops and someone sings, it sounds more like creepy anime music. The local community college-funded station used to have this show on Fridays from noon to two where the chick played all anime music and even would tell the time and weather from Tokyo... people like that freak me the fuck out and would have no second chance for life were I the Idi Amin of central Virginia post-apocalypse splintering apart of America.
Whoa, there's a troupe of girls in colorful masks dancing a very generic hip hop dance in the ring as the second team in this match-up enters... that would make for much better MTV-style TV than a couple of shitty brass pole hugging haggards with fake tits rolling around in g-strings, which is what I usually see in the 'merican wrasslin'. Oh, this is Magnum TOKYO's dance entourage, and HE DOES THE DANCE ROUTINE TOO, which makes him automatically the best wrestling I've seen in the last three months (of course, I haven't watched shit), and also has him expending more energy before the match even starts than most everybody of what I saw on the shitty fake ECW by WWE divid I got from stupid Netflix last month. Using him as the knowledge base of his team, I can deduct who the two Shisas are (assuming the one with the burly bearded black mask is King and not Super), and then figure out Nakajima.
The other team will not be so easy, and they are carrying fuckin' workout equipment, which I find upsetting. I know Magnitude Kishiwada is the masked dude, but the other three are just three well-sculpted, fit-looking, wrestling Japanese fuckers, so bear with me as I figure it out. Oh yeah, introductions... I got 'em all pegged now, and was correct in my distinguishment of a man who is a masked king and one who is merely super.
ALL HELL HAS BROKE LOOSE - IN EIGHT-MAN FORM! Magnum and Fujii trade forearms in front of some bleachers, and Doi and Nakajima are the dudes left in the ring during intial melee. Super lucha-based international grappling, with Magnum TOKYO sitting in the crowd watching the match. What a joker that Magnum TOKYO character is. The Yoshino kid looks about sixteen and is a couple of stacks of pancakes lighter than everybody else, but he runs through spots like a man who enjoys methamphetamine style commercial drinks. And I can't help but love Don Fujii as he looks like a member of Sha-na-na, but with an oriental face. Beyond his mask, Super Shisa is not very fuckin' good for the most part, although I gain love for him as they have a lengthy four-on-one segment with him as the one having the other team attempt to crack as many of his ribs as they can. AND YET, STILL HE KICKS OUT! Shisa must be Japanese for indestructible viking cat. King Shisa, a much Chinese buffetier indestructible viking cat, gets involved to help his Super counterpart out of a jam, which ends in double topes to the floor, and if the lucha libre has taught me one thing over the years, it is that there is nothing grander than a fat dude in a mask diving errantly into another man from a platform about three feet higher than him.
Magnum TOKYO gyrates his pleather-concealed penis in Doi's face before hitting a top rope hurricanrana, and the crowd goes into the normal Pavlovian squeals of delight. I never understood the thinking behind this... "OH SHIT, YO! Look at Magnum act like he's rubbing his dick in that other dude's grill... that shit is so awesome." I guess it all relates to the whole "suck my dick" derogatory retort, which I don't use because what if somebody said, "sure"? Then I'd have to get over my feelings of guilt at letting another man fellate me while being married. At least the first time that happened to me, I wasn't attached, though the feeling of scratchy face around succulent lips has always bothered me, because sensually, those two things don't match up in the preconceptions of my mind. However, like my dad taught me, so long as I don't touch a penis, I'm not being gay.
Yoshino hits a sweet missile dropkick which he angles like a double thrust of foot from the sky into the face of Super Shisa, who is earning his money during this match if not for nothing more than being the whipping boy. King Shisa is like a thousand times better than Super Shisa, which may be a metric conversion of sorts that I don't know about, since I am an ignorant American. And one who likes the men who what does the fake fightings to boot. Super Shisa even does some lucha-style spinning around the body of your opponent type stuff in slower speed than you'd expect, making even that look more forced and faker than usual. Maybe Shisa actually translates as slow motion alien life form. Aww, stupid Super Shisa gets kicked in the beard in his mask and pinned to cause shameful defeat for his team. I had fun with King Shisa, Magnitude Kishiwada, and Don Fujii, and if you'll pay for another date, Chuck Woolery, I'd love to see them again.
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