Toshiaki Koala

Now that you put it that way... Let's keep things the way they are!

Backstage, Longdogger Pete is standing in front of a large SWF logo. He is holding a microphone. With him is an unknown man. A handsome, blond-haired man in a white shirt and a navy blue blazer. He is not very tall or menacing, but an air of incredible arrogance pervades his every motion. As Pete begins to speak, he adjusts his cuff links and stares smugly out at the audience. “Ladies and gentleman, I am here–” The blond man reaches over and places his hand over the top of the microphone, preventing Pete from continuing to speak. He smiles, then gently coaxes the mic out the indignant announcer’s grasp. He clears his throat in an exaggerated fashion before beginning. “Hello, fans of the Smarks Wrestling Federation. For those of you who don’t know me – but who doesn’t? – I am Scott Pretzler. Proud son of Canada, legend of the North American independent wrestling scene, and the author of the weekly Pretzler’s Perspective, the most widely read professional wrestling column on the World Wide Web.” His speech is slow and smooth – and again, radiates superiority. “You may be asking yourself, as you sit there twiddling your thumbs and staring vacantly at your television sets, just why I have come here. Why I have decided to grace the SWF with my ever-luminous presence. You may be wondering why I have left the intelligent and appreciative audience of the Ring of Respect and chosen instead to entertain a rowdy bunch of tobacco-chewing halfwits who wouldn’t know a real wrestling match if it raped them in the ass with a spiked dildo.” At this remark, the crowd boos savagely and begins to chant the seven-letter letter word. “AAAAAASSS-HOLE! AAAAAASSS-HOLE!” Rather than becoming angry, Pretzler merely stands there, a satisfied smile making its way across his face. He waits patiently until the yokels lose interest in their chant. “If –” “BOOOOOO!” “If that is the case, then fear not! For I will gladly explain my situation.” He adjusts his collar and continues. “For as long as I can remember, wrestling in this country has been on a constant and steady decline. A downward spiral, if you will. I don’t know exactly when it began or what triggered it, but in recent years new lows have been reached. The men who compete are no longer wrestlers but “entertainers” or “superstars.” The women are nothing more than shapely slabs of meat. Rather than adding weight to what goes on in the ring, storylines have taken center stage and now dominate every facet of every major wrestling promotion in the United States… “Including this one. “Especially this one. “As the great Tom Flesher recently pointed out, the owners, performers, and audience of the SWF seem to have completely forgotten what that ‘W’ in our name stands for. It has given me immense pain to watch as this once-respectable promotion has been overrun by a pathetic series of melodramatic angles that would be right at home on The O.C. or Xena: Warrior Princess, but have absolutely NO PLACE on a program that claims to focus on professional wrestling. I won’t bother to go into detail about these atrocities – yes, atrocities – as Mr. Flesher has already done so with commendable eloquence. Suffice it to say, though, that these details should roil the stomach of any level-headed wrestling enthusiast. “I should note, however, that we once had a man who wrestled in a penguin suit. Take a while and ponder that thought. … “Worse yet, there has been a severe deterioration with regards to the action inside the ring. ‘Hardcore’ matches, ‘slobber-knockers,’” (Pretzler pauses in the middle of the word to accentuate the hyphen,) “‘brawls,’ and ‘street fights’ have come to replace serious athletic competition. Almost every match, from the lowliest opener to the most prestigious main event, features some manner of weapon use or foul play. And it is disgraceful. Disgraceful. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves for allowing it to continue.” The audience is anything but ashamed. They are, however, deeply insulted, and the young Canadian is once again bombarded by boos and jeers. “For the past thirty-two months, I have been a competitor in the northeast-based independent federation Ring of Respect. During that time, I became the most prolific titleholder and possibly the greatest performer in the company’s storied history. My Tildebang driver and Snowflake Clutch submission were among the most feared maneuvers in the world. Several of my matches were named the best of the year by myself or other noted writers. I was admired by all who loved great wrestling. Money was never really a part of the issue, and for a time I was perfectly content with remaining where I was. But there was a problem. “You see, I, too, love wrestling. “I believe that through my ring work and my writing, I have changed the way many people think about the sport. I believe that I have opened many eyes to the beauty of a clean and pure wrestling contest. And yet… there is only so much that one can do from such a position. As influential as independent promotions like ROR have been, the truth remains that American pro wrestling lives and dies with major leagues. With companies like the Smarks Wrestling Federation. “So when representatives of the SWF came to me offering a developmental deal, I was hesitant. The idea of leaving Ring of Respect, of essentially leaving my home, was unbearable. I had made so many friends there, and so many indelible memories. But I could not ignore my duty. I knew that the SWF was the only place where I could truly make a difference, and I knew that if I tried hard enough I could change the SWF. And if this were to happen, North American professional wrestling could be saved.” The camera zooms in, showing his face in close-up. “So here I am.” Fade out.

Complain away. I'm sure I can take it. And just wait until you see his assholery at the Clusterfuck.

My retardation knows no limits. I should have looked at the date of your post, in which case I would have realized that this was an all-purpose birthday thread and not one you created to salute yourself.

Smarks Board Name: Spine Upon The Pine Wrestlers Name: “The Critic” Scott Pretzler Height: 5’11” Weight: 226 lbs. Hometown: Toronto, Ontario Age: 27 Face/Heel: Heel Stable: Revolution ZERO~! Ring Escort: Toxxic or Jet if it's a big match, but he likes to go it on his own. Weapon(s): His wrestling ability. Quote: “Shut up and wrestle.” Looks: The Critic is a handsome and clean-cut young man. His blond hair is fairly short and is combed straight back; plain but good-looking would be the best way to describe his face. He is in excellent physical shape but his body shows no signs of steroid use. He wears traditional navy blue trunks with a gold tildebang insignia (~!) on the front and “THE CRITIC” in gold letters on the back. White wrist taping, black kneepads and navy blue leg guard boots to match his trunks complete his ring attire. He has deep-set blue eyes. Ring Entrance: The stirring notes of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony hit the speaker system as “The Critic” Scott Pretzler emerges from the entryway to a chorus of boos and rude chants. He stops and places his hands on his hips as he stares down smugly at the fans he despises. Taking his time, he walks down the ramp, climbs the steps, and enters the ring with pride. Stats: ¯¯¯¯¯ Strength: 5 He cannot lift bulky opponents, but is capable of fearsome bursts of energy and puts a great deal of power into his impact moves and holds. Speed: 3 Pretzler prefers to keep the match in one place. When he does fly, his aerial attacks are precise and devoid of flash. Vitality: 6 His small size makes him vulnerable to power moves, but he has GREAT stamina and almost never submits. Charisma: 6 Charismatic is the last way Pretzler would describe himself, but his command of the audience’s feelings (namely, hatred) is absolute. His promos are verbose and condescending. Style: Priding himself on his technical abilities, Pretzler works a style that features impactful moves with little flash or style. Because the Snowflake Clutch puts pressure on the neck and back, Pretzler will relentlessly attempt to wear down this area using strikes, holds, and backbreakers. His contempt for the audience will sometimes lead him to intentionally slow the match to a crawl, and when this happens he revels in the crowd’s frustration. He NEVER uses weapons. Signature moves: Octopus Hold– Pretzler bends his opponent over so that their upper bodies are perpendicular, hooks his left leg over the back of the foe’s head while placing his right in front of the other's left, and wrenches the right arm back in his own direction. Powerbomb– Done high-speed à la Chris Benoit’s Wildbomb. Pretzler always holds on for the pin, and sometimes flips over in a jackknife. Brainbuster – Not a complete vertical drop like Hashimoto’s, this is still very punishing to the neck. Guillotine Leg Drop – One of Pretzler’s few aerial maneuvers. He will attempt it only if he is certain that it will not be avoided (could therefore be considered a rare move as well.) Front Guillotine Neck Lock – With both men standing, Pretzler applies a front facelock and then scissors his legs around the opponent’s body, pulling him down to the mat. Crossface Chickenwing – Used to wear down the neck in preparation for the Snowflake Clutch, this can also end a match by itself. Common moves: Knife-Edged Chops Elbows to the back of the neck European Uppercut High-Angle Dropkick (Best in the business!) Lariat Powerslam Back Drop German Suplex (With or without bridge) Butterfly Suplex Front Neck Lock (Opponent either standing or seated) Pendulum Backbreaker Headlocks! Lots and lots of headlocks. Shoulder Neckbreaker ARM-BAR~! Rare moves: Tope Suicida – Pretzler has a beautiful suicide dive, but he rarely busts it out as the risk for him is too great. Top Rope Frankensteiner – Another junior-style move that Pretzler has the ability to execute but will do so only when desperate. Snowflake Suplex - A cross-arm German suplex, also called a Strait Jacket Suplex. Near-impossible to escape, but equally hard to hit. Finishers: Snowflake Clutch – A camel clutch variation in which the opponent’s arms are crossed in front of his chest. Unlike a regular camel clutch, this starts with the opponent in a seated position. Nearly identical to Jinsei Shinzaki’s Goku-Raku Gatame. Often set up with a hard elbow to the beck of the neck causing the opponent to fall to his knees. The Tildebang – Pretzler puts his opponent in a rear facelock and lifts him up as if to deliver a reverse brainbuster; when the jabroni’s body is at a 90-degree angle, Pretzler drops him down into a Michinoku Driver. (See the “Yukiguni Driver β” in Fire Pro Advance.) Pretzler will almost never use this on opponents heavier than 250 lbs. Notes: Scott Pretzler despises Sports-Entertainment. A former world champion in the northeast-based Ring of Respect promotion, he has come to the SWF with the lofty goal of “saving” North American pro wrestling. Both highly educated and a superb athlete, he simply can’t help believing that he is better than everyone else – his every word and action drips with arrogance. His superiority complex allows him to overlook any morally questionable actions he may take, and on very rare occasions he will play dirty if it means getting the job done. He is also the author of a weekly internet column, which he will sometimes quote in his interviews.

He should call himself Suck-Train. Since he, you know, sucks. And that's your quintessential smarkish comment of the day courtesy of Spine Upon The Pine.

I think Coachman will toss London out a millisecond after he enters the ring.

How much is the Rumble going to cost? I might order it if it's $30, but not 50.

London needs to get rid of that moustache, FAST.

I think her penoris would refute that statement.

As a recently converted SWF fan and soon-to-be SWF super-mega-legend, I feel I must put in the good word for one of the fed's best. You're one of the few people around here by whom I wouldn't fear being murdered and/or raped if I encountered you in real life. More importantly, I congratulate you for being the man responsible for possibly the greatest invention in human history, which is of course the time machine. How else could someone born in 1982 be sixteen in the year 2004?

What was Paul Giamatti in? Seriously.

TLN? Is that a local channel or something?

Three, actually. But this movie does sound very interesting.

Jarrett smokes crack. Anyway... Chyna Steve Williams (I know he is said to be recovering, but cancer is very unpredictable) King Kong Bundy (He just seems like the type to die) Ultimate Warrior (Hey, it already happened once!) Kevin Nash I don't want to add Jack Evans to this list, but he's bound to seriously injure himself sooner or later if he keeps taking all of these ridiculously insane bumps. EDIT: Replaced Abdullah The Butcher with Warrior.

If this is real... wow, what a pathetic, ignorant, toothless knuckledragging redneck. Daivari should do this to him: V V V V V

A London-Akio ladder match? Wow, that might actually make me buy a WWE PPV. Of course it will never happen.

Jackie Gayda got a bigger pop than London?

Can't forget about "cum-guzzling gutter slut." Maybe it's just me, but I think that's worse than calling someone a bitch.

The Western Lariat is instant death, though Baba kicked out of it twice during the eighties and I could have sworn Kenta Kobashi did in 1996. Moves like the Burning Hammer are obviously deadly, but how often do you see something like that? Nearly every victory of Hansen's career came from the lariat, and when you take the ratio of how frequently he used it to how effective it was, nothing comes close.

That Lita book sure does have a bad title.

What about the novel One Fall?

Shouldn't it have been the other way around?

It's getting REALLY difficult to tell all of these Diva Search rejects apart. Interestingly enough, Ayako Hamada and Takako Inoue have both shown interest in coming to WWE; needless to say, they were rejected by Vince. Now, they may not be Chris Benoit With Tits, but it would be nice to see some actual wrestlers in the women's division. Clearly, the management doesn't feel this way. Hey, guess what, management? Go fuck yourselves! And let me add that I will be the first one in line to buy Suzuki's CD (you know it's coming).

Joey Buttafucco can beat Chyna Chyna can beat X-Pac X-Pac can beat Kane Kane can beat Austin Austin can beat Rock Rock can beat Hogan Hogan can beat Inoki Inoki can beat Vader Vader can beat Misawa Joey Butafucco totally ownz Misawa! Here's a shortened version. Wonderful. Say... didn't Inoki fight Muhammed Ali? HMMMM......