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Olympic Hero Kurt Angle

The Heart Break Kid, Shawn Michaels

Rey Mysterio, Jr.

Slobberknockers abound
Ringside Shadows #146: Everything Old is New Again

You know you've debated it... what kind of impact would Shawn Michaels have made if he'd reached his prime in the late 70's, rather than the mid 90's? How would a young Ric Flair have handled himself in the trainwreck that is the "Attitude Era?" Better yet, would Kurt Angle be in the position he is today, were he running alongside a young, fresh Rick Rude or Ricky "the Dragon" Steamboat? How would the legends of yesterday have fared against the rising stars of today? It's a subject that's permeated every facet of the entertainment industry: who's the better late night host, Johnny Carson in the 60s or David Letterman in the 80s? Which cast of SNL was the funniest? It's a tough call, and one that no one can ever make without causing some sort of uproar, not that it ever stops them from trying.

Due to popular demand, I'll be walking that controversial aisle once again right here, as I deliver the follow up to last week's "Dream Matches" column. There is one slight difference here, though, one that gives the edge to this week's post, at least in my mind. Rather than limiting myself to the present, I've broadened my horizons. Instead of athletes currently employed in one of the big three, this week you'll see the best of the best. Yesteryear clashes with the present, in matches that nobody would turn away from, if just for their historical significance. These are the clashes that simply weren't meant to be. Whether it be the age gap, the political turmoil or the issue of cross-promotional confrontations, these guys have never and will never get a chance to show us what they've got. Each has gone his own way in the halls of history, leaving his mark on the World, for better or worse. Now it's time to revisit their youth for one last hurrah.

What follows is a list of five one on one matches, pitting the stars of the decade past against the youth of today and tomorrow. Beside each name is a year, announcing which year's Chris Jericho best embodies what made him tick. This is a personal choice, a decision that's restricted to matches I've personally seen, talents I've watched sprout and history I've been subjected to. Though I recognize and respect the legend of Lou Thesz, I've never seen one of his complete matches. My exposure to Bruno Sammartino is limited, as is my collection of old Terry Funk wars. Though I regret such a gap in my historical recollection, I can't effectively list a man that I haven't extensively seen. I'm sticking to what I know here, and I believe that's for the best. So, for just five minutes, sit back, take a glance at the screen, and forget all connections to the real world. Don't worry yourself about the continuity of it all, nor how these guys would never work with each other due to personal reasons. Just relax and forget everything you know. Enjoy the ride.

"Ravishing" Rick Rude (1989) v. "Y2J" Chris Jericho (1998)

Hands down, two of the greatest heels in the history of pro wrestling. They both had the skills, they both knew how to incite an audience, and each played an integral role in their federation because of it. Like it or not, Jericho was what made the cruiserweight division work during WCW's heyday, giving fans the motivation they needed to root for the smaller guys. He was the backbone of what was largely responsible for grabbing and holding WCW's core audience in the late 90s. The other guy, Rick Rude, worked WWF audiences into a frenzy in a day that had big names like the Ultimate Warrior and Hulk Hogan to fall back on. Neither received the recognition they were due, and both fled their breakthrough promotion soon after to make it big with the other guys. It would be interesting to see how many of their similarities extended into the ring, as well.

The Competitors:
In 1989, "Ravishing" Rick Rude was the be all, end all textbook definition of a heel. Fans hated this pretty boy with an attitude. He had the goods, he liked to flaunt them, and the pre-match 'de-robing' ceremony only poured lighter fluid into the fire. This was the man we loved to hate, and Vince McMahon knew it. Rude was booked into a feud with the Ultimate Warrior. He was placed alongside Bobby Heenan, when that meant something. He was even a World Title contender for a short while, and there's no explanation for why he never held the WWF Gold for an extended run. In the ring he was all confidence, right up to the point his opponent showed a little offense. Rude was the "pussy heel," the man who'd take his time when in control, rubbing it all over his opponent's face. But when the tables eventually turned and it was Rick's turn to take some punishment, he'd be out on the floor complaining in the blink of an eye. His moveset was strong for the day, and his selling (though comical) was often among the best. You'd never see Rick Rude doing a war dance, or Hulking Up. In a world of superheroes, Rick Rude was just a strong, conceded, dickhead of a guy that always managed to squeak out an upset win.

Jericho took that concept, tweaked it, and threw in a twist that made it decisively his. He perfected the concept of the "cowardly heel," a guise that's become quite overdone recently, by taking some chances in a time when every villain was trying so desperately to be cool. His resume boasts runs with each of the three major North American promotions, (not to mention holding individual titles in all three) turns with several international promotions and a slot on the 1995 Super J Cup tournament. Probably his most distinguishing feature, though, is his ability to interest fans in any upcoming feud. From Kurt Angle to Dean Malenko, Jericho has managed to come up with something that holds the fans' interest. While the workers of Rick Rude's era would usually stick to the everyday, boring interview segment, Jericho would poke fun at his opponent in ways that would make audiences laugh at and / or sympathize with the target. Simply put, his name is all it takes to pique interest anymore, as audiences have recognized his talent and embraced him for his past accomplishments.

The Match:
Since we're in an ideal world, and feuds between two similar heels rarely go down well, Jericho's gimmick here is identical to his current, fan favorite, persona. He'd maintain the work ethic and biting wit he had in WCW, but his stance with the fans would be that of a face. Like last week's match with Steve Corino, the majority of the fun here wouldn't come with the match itself, but with the build leading up to it. Rude enters the ring to his usual sax riff, accompanied by the chorus of boos he'd come to expect. Nabbing a mic, he breaks out the speech we've all heard before, the same words that bring a smile to my face, even today; "What I'd like to have right now... is for all you fat, worthless, out of shape losers..." Taking proper time to pause dramatically between words, Rude casually grips the string around his robe... and the Y2J countdown begins. Enter: Jericho, wearing a carbon copy of Rude's velvety robe and toting a mic. In the mocking manner only he could pull off, Jericho imitates him every step of the way, right down to the "corncob up the butt" body language. When he gets into the ring, he reveals the kicker... extravagant tights underneath his robe, depicting Rude's face, dead-center on his crotch. Next to the competition, Rick's crudely painted trunks look shabby. Enraged over being upstaged in public, he assaults his opposition and the match is officually underway.

With Rude running the show, we go all over the ring and out to the floor. Jericho tastes the ring steps, as well as a steel chair, and Rude climbs into the ring to deliver a pelvic thrust for the crowd. A moment's pause was all Jericho needed to recover, and his flurry of offense sends Rude to the concrete, this time looking to recover his lost advantage. The two trades moments in control, with Rude constantly aborting the very moment Jericho takes over on offense, until Y2J finally has enough and nails a baseball slide under the bottom rope. They head into the ring, where Jericho pummels the former Intercontinental Champion, finally placing his injured body in the middle of the mat. The Lionheart makes a run for the ropes, aiming to hit a Lionsault, but Bobby Heenan is waiting to distract him. Jericho hesitates and Rude regains his footing, grabs his opponent from behind and hits the Rude Awakening before the younger contender knows what's hitting him. Rude makes the cover, but only gets two and a half. While Rick argues with the official, Jericho lays on the mat. Rude bends over to lift up the pieces of his challenger, giving Jericho the opportunity he was waiting for... he nabs Rick's legs, throws him to his back and locks on the liontamer. Rude can't help but to tap out.

Ricky Steamboat (1988) v. Kurt Angle (2000)

Two of the greatest pure wrestlers in the game, with Angle garnering all the accolades that were surprisingly missing from the career of Steamboat. Both men are the babies of the internet, where writers do little but sing their praise. Their styles would likely work together magnificently, as Steamboat's technical prowess would compliment Angle's straightforward greco-roman modern style. Angle has the edge in personality, an area where Steamboat's always been lacking, but once in the ring, these two would make last Monday's extraordinary Angle vs. HHH match look like child's play. They'd put on a clinic.

The Competitors:Heralded by many as the most underrated performer in history, Ricky Steamboat had outstanding matches in the WWF during his time, (the most notable being opposite Randy Savage at Wrestlemania III) but made his name on the work he'd done in the NWA. His ongoing feud with Ric Flair has reached almost mythical proportions in the years since the matches were performed. They put on more five star performances in one feud than many are likely to see in a lifetime. They were born to work together. The wrestling world wouldn't be where it is today if they hadn't. It's interesting to note that Flair went on to a slot among the top three names in the history of the sport, while Steamboat has become little more than a footnote, a silent legend that's whispered in the backdrop somewhere. Between the two of them, Flair had the stronger personality, while Steamboat was the superior worker. It's why they clicked so well. Both were quite strong in the ring, and The Dragon's natural babyface personality intensified Flair's monster heel character. Apart, both could easily carry a feud to four star level, perhaps five if they gave it their all. Combined, there was little question what the result might be. Still, Steamboat appeared to yearn for the WWF and the mainstream success that went along with it. He'd establish himself with superb matches in the NWA, (and later WCW) only to jump to the WWF soon after. Though he carried the Intercontinental title for several months during his first big run, Ricky was never given much of a chance to prove his worth in the big time, which is certainly a great shame. He could have made the WWF something it wasn't in the early 90s: successful. It's too bad Vince McMahon had some sort of personal vendetta against him.

Kurt Angle, meanwhile, has led a story that reads as almost a polar opposite. Instead of a tragedy, his is a story of success. Working dark matches to little or no crowd reaction for months, Angle was finally introduced as "The Olympic Champion" barely one year ago, and found instant heat as a monster heel. He's been a European Champion, an Intercontinental Champion, a King of the Ring and now a World Title contendor, all in less than a year. He's well above average in the ring, bringing a unique blend of amateur and professional wrestling to the ring, and his work on the mic betrays his brief experience. He's currently involved with HHH in the best feud since Hart / Austin, in terms of both intensity and hype, as well as delivery. He'll be a World Champion within another year. The only remaining problem with Kurt Angle is... now that he's already reached the top, where does he have left to go?

The Match:
The feud as a whole here would be a sort of amalgamation of the respective HHH vs. Angle and Steamboat vs. Flair encounters, with Angle playing the heel and Steamboat playing (obviously) the face. Angle would consider himself above the legend, citing his King of the Ring glory and multiple singles titles in the Fed as ample proof. After all, the Dragon's only been champion "in some old federation nobody remembers any more." Steamboat would attempt verbal comebacks, but just isn't in the same league as the Olympic Champion, eventually finding himself more and more embarrassed with each encounter. When they finally climb into the ring, it's high time Angle learns a lesson or two about respect... and maybe something about intelligence, intensity and integrity as well.

I see things going purely old school in the ring here. Little or no action on the top rope, no moonsaults, 450 splashes or hurricanranas; simply an old fashioned schooling in the art of technical wrestling and ring psychology from the professor himself, Steamboat. The Dragon would hold a firm advantage throughout the match, until Angle decides enough is enough and clocks him with a foreign object of some sort. The ref misses it (surprise!) and Kurt looks for the easy pin, but Steamboat still manages to get his shoulder up before three. Furious, Angle picks him up, powerslams him and tries the cover again. Steamboat kicks out and Angle is ballistic. He steps out to the floor, likely searching for his discarded foreign object, and Steamboat climbs to his feet, hitting a cross body block to the outside. A headlock leads to a mean butterfly suplex on the concrete for Steamboat, and we go back inside. Angle tries to get the momentum back on his side with an Irish whip to the corner, but Steamboat reverses it. Angle does a Flair flop out of the corner, just for the old school bastards like myself. It's all Steamboat here, and he works the arm relentlessly. Angle, who isn't used to such a concise attack, has this bewildered look on his face throughout. Steamboat continues to work on the arm, and is wrenching it something fierce when something snaps inside Angle and he quickly, decisively counters. He nails a northern lights suplex for two, followed by a bridged German suplex for two. Ecstatic, he looks for a backslide, which isn't such a good idea when your arm's all banged up. Steamboat takes advantage of his arm, breaking the pinfall attempt and spinning it around into a double arm chicken wing. As he falls backwards, Angle realizes he's got two options... tap out or lose the use of his arm for several months. After a long close-up detail's Angle's agony, he submits. Experience wins out in the end.

The Dynamite Kid (1982) v. Rey Mysterio, Jr. (1995)

The man who introduced it against the man who perfected it. High flying, super fast, in your face action from the best in the history of the world. If you've never seen tapes of either of these men in their prime(s), you're really missing out on some essential stuff Recommended viewing includes Mysterio's match with Psychosis at the '95 Super J Cup and Dynamite's series with Tiger Mask I. While Rey might move a bit faster than Dynamite, the Kid would make up for that with his seemingly limitless power. Every series of short, quick kicks, flips and smacks would be answered with one devastating piledriver or arm wrench. They'd play off each other extraordinarily, especially considering Billington (Dynamite)'s experience with high fliers. It would certainly be one for the ages.

The Competitors:
The Dynamite Kid's matches with Tiger Mask Sayama are the stuff of legends, and rightfully so. Looking at these tapes, it's easy to forget the matches you're watching took place almost twenty years ago. Unlike many other angles, feuds or matches, they hold up as modern even today... in fact, they're still better viewing than anything you'll see on regular television in year 2000. Along with Sayama, Dynamite introduced high speed ringworking to the sport as a fundamental piece of the puzzle, not just something to glance at once or twice in a match. Everything they did was flat out, 110%. I really can't stress enough how important these matches are to the way things are performed today. Eddy Guerrero has this series to thank every time a heavyweight sells his head-scissors takedown. Chris Benoit owes his entire career to Dynamite, the man he molded himself after. His influence is extraordinary, and moreso than Steamboat, his praises are largely unsung. While most would remember him as one half of the British Bulldogs, the constant opposing team to Bret's Hart Foundation, his singles work is where the brilliance of his performances really shone. Davey Boy Smith slowed him down, and considering Davey's strong reputation beyond their tag team, that says something for him.

In the 1995 incarnation of Rey Mysterio, Jr, you get the best luchador there's ever been... before he blew his knee out, lost his mask, gave up his style and lost his desire. He threw his body about with reckless abandon, and it ended up costing him the moveset that made him so unique. But this is before all that. This is in the day when a Rey Mysterio match meant a dry mouth, opened in amazement from start to finish. This was the Rey who would hit that smooth hurricanrana off the top rope, right into a pinning combination. Though he was sometimes spotty, it was well worth the set-up time for the payoff. Without a doubt the most innovative flier of the last decade, Rey would hit his opposition with things you couldn't even imagine, moves that don't have names today. He was a human Spiderman, not even limited by his own imagination. Nothing was too fast, too flashy or too unreal, he'd make it happen. On top of it all, Rey was a born face. You couldn't turn this guy heel if he was opposing the Rock. He's just a natural.

The Match:
With that said, Mysterio would obviously be playing the face. Dynamite, head shaven, would have adopted the persona he occupied over in Japan; brutal, uncaring and lethal. He didn't care if you were Stallone or Pikachu, if you entered the ring, you were leaving without your head. As I explained with Rey above, most of his moves can't even be called, which makes things a bit difficult for me here. I imagine he and Dynamite would be trading off rather evenly throughout the first ten minutes, with nobody gaining a significant advantage. Mysterio would hit some low-impact, imaginative moves and Dynamite would negate their combined attack with one sharp, vicious maneuver of his own. Rey would be selling like he'd been shot out of a cannon into a brick wall, and then he'd start again with the little jabs and swipes. He'd get Dynamite to the floor and launch a somersault plancha, only to realize the Kid wasn't there any more (and Dynamite's done similar things in the past, forcing workers to land their own leaps on the cement.) Come the twenty minute mark, Rey's really starting to feel the effects of his insane methods. He's winded, bleeding and hurt. The Dynamite Kid, realizing he's waited long enough, unleashes power move after power move, effectively driving Rey through the mat. To cap things off, he hits a Piledriver and then goes up top. Rey tries to get out of his way, so Dynamite aborts, piledrives him again, and then hits the diving headbutt for the three. A bit anticlimactic, but a worthwhile enough lesson that sometimes the smartest thing to do is allow your opponent defeat himself.

Shawn Michaels (1996) v. Eddy Guerrero (1996)

Two Texas natives, two exceptional blends of Lucha Libre and mat wrestling, and two examples that they're putting something in the water down south. Guerrero, among others, is one of the first names mentioned when the future of the WWF is questioned. He's just hitting his prime now, and has quite a bit left both to show and to accomplish. On the other hand, Shawn Michaels is doubtless among the greatest WWF champions ever. The man Vince turned to when everyone began abandoning his "sinking ship," Shawn took a list of unproven talents, failed prospects and new recruits, and built a worthy list of World Title contendors with of it. He's one of a handful in history that's been able to "carry a paper bag to a four star match." Of the matches on this card, this one blurs the lines the most. Both have been active and great at the same time, but they were never in the right place at the right time. They never met, and if they had, it wouldn't have meant what it should have. With Michaels retired much too soon, it's obvious that this match will never happen... and that, for me, meets the requirements for this card. Though the years I've selected above are right next to one another, Michaels is certainly the one who's been left in the past, while Guerrero has yet to reach his golden year.

The Competitors:As I said above, Shawn Michaels was the WWF in 1996, whether I like it or not. I'll be the first to admit I despise the guy outside the ring, but once he quit being Shawn Hickenbottom and became HBK, I've nothing but respect for his talents and what he's done for the industry. Shawn did everything he could to make a match exciting. If the fans wanted to see him kill himself, then that's what he did (see: Hell in a Cell I.) If they wanted Michaels as a triumphant hero, he'd do everything he could to give it to them. He was among the best in terms of storytelling, speaking on the stick and selling an opponent's offense. He could take a feud that would have failed miserably under anyone else's watch and make it worthy of carrying a PPV, either as a face or a heel. The impact of Shawn Michaels will be felt on the industry years after his premature departure, and every time the opening riffs of his music hit an arena somewhere, fans will explode in appreciation for that. There really isn't much more one can say about Shawn Michaels. He's near perfection, the absolute best one can get in the world of wrestling.

Eddy Guerrero's been everywhere, but he most certainly hasn't done it all. He's wrestled South of the border in Mexico, overseas in Japan and for each of the three major US promotions as well. He's a member of the prestigious Guerrero family. The sport's in his blood, and it shows. He's successfully merged Puro, American and Lucha styles, and the result is a thing of beauty. On top of it all, he's possibly one of the most convincing heels I've ever seen. His entire look is that of a heel. Much like Rey can't help but gather cheers with every appearance, Eddy's face runs will always be just filler between big sprints as a heel. He's got the glare, the build, the look and the moveset to make it possible, and he delivers big time. On the mic, Eddy isn't the best on the block, but he's far from the worst. He'll let you know what he's feeling, will further the feud and will entertain you, but he won't force you into fits of laughter like Foley or give you the only reason you need to buy a PPV. You won't smell what he's cooking. Eddy's more than a gimmick character, he's a wrestler. He understands how to build a match, pace a match and finish a match, and he knows why he's doing it. Given a couple more years, Eddy's name will be written in the halls next to Michaels himself.

The Match:
Much like Guerrero's match with Yoshihiro Tajiri in the previous column, to try calling this would go against what makes these two so great to begin with. They're excellent, shoot-from-the-hip wrestlers, guys who can pick it up and run with it for the duration with little or no suggestions and help from the back. They've honed their craft long enough to feel comfortable doing so, and without a less skilled opponent to worry about carrying here, I think they'd be able to let it all hang out. We'd get one for the ages, full of combos, reversals and momentum shifts. We'd get a wide variety of offenses and defenses. We'd fly through the air and we'd crash through the mat. I wouldn't be surprised to see a ladder thrown into the mix before all's said and done, either. In the end, I've got Michaels holding a firm advantage. Guerrero's been working the neck and shoulders for some time, but Michaels has withstood it up until this point. He hits the flying forearm, followed by the elbow from the top and Guerrero is barely out at two. As he steps back to set up for the sweet chin music, Eddy stumbles to his feet. With Michaels stomping the ground behind him, Guerrero shoots an all-knowing smile to the audience. He's done his homework, he knows what's coming, and he's ready for it. A split second later, Guerrero's donned his "I'm injured and stumbling" face to turn towards HBK. Shawn launches the sweet chin music, but Guerrero's ducked under it and made his way to Michaels's back. In an instant he lands a vicious dragon suplex that's bridged into a pinning combo. The ref goes down, slaps the mat three times and comes up again, signalling to ring the bell. Guerrero slides out of the ring, his arm raised in victory. Michaels underestimated him, and Eddy called him on it.

Ric Flair (1989) v. Chris Benoit (1997)

The match we should've seen years ago, with control of the Horsemen at stake. Quite a while ago, I wrote a column based on a rumored policy WCW was about to instigate: the top ten. Rumor had it bookers were going to choose ten men to base the promotion around, with everyone else receiving significantly less time to prove their worth than those lucky enough to make the list. It would've effectively written itself, as Hogan, Nash, Luger and Goldberg were still the biggest things around in the eyes of those who held the book, but I put together a "top ten" of my own, regardless. My explanation for Benoit's place on that list was simple: a feud with Ric Flair. The Crippler's been primped since day one to take over the Horsemen, and the audience knows it. If the writers could convincingly work an angle that focused on a stable's leader, facing a challenge from within his own ranks, the fans would flock to it. Look at the Rock's success in, and eventual ascention from, the Nation of Domination. Handled correctly, the feud would have been enough to carry the promotion... but if Flair were still in his prime, handling a threat to his authority? It would have been instant history.

The Competitors:
You know these guys. Ric Flair is the greatest of all time. A fifteen time WCW champion, a man who's done just as well in the WWF as he has in his home, the NWA. A classic heel and a beloved face. In 1989, Ric Flair was following up the feud of a lifetime with Ricky Steamboat, and he gave us a worthy sequel against Terry Funk. The build was marvelous, the crowd was on fire, and Flair was in the form of his life. Sure, he wasn't getting any younger but he hadn't begun to lose his steps yet either. He'd mastered all he was going to attempt and he'd made an art of it. Now it was simply a matter of applying it while he was still able. He could've followed up the Steamboat feud with a match against Bastion Booger and produced something worthwhile. ...well... maybe that's getting a bit out of hand. Simply put, Flair proved why he's one of the greatest of all time in 1989. He had several five star matches in him, and he let them all fly before the turn of the decade. He was the man when it came to ring psychology, working a crowd and making things respectable. Frankly, when it comes to a wrestling ring, Flair is the alpha and the omega of his generation.

On the other hand, Chris Benoit has the ability to do the same for his peers. His mic work is steadily improving, he's among the top heels in the WWF and he's the keeper of the single most varied, effective and unbelievable moveset in the world. Benoit was a member of three incarnations of the Horsemen, (alongside Flair, Anderson, Pillman, McMichael and Malenko) and collected every piece of gold in WCW before making his way to the WWF, where he's a multi-time Intercontinental champion. With a little more promotion, continued coaching with his mic work and the skills in the ring that he's held for the last six years, Benoit could accomplish everything Flair has, and then exceed it.

The Match:
Much like Guerrero and Michaels, to attempt to spell this out would dishonor both men involved. Steamboat and Flair's classics were amazing because they were left entirely up to the workers, with only the finish going through bookers first. With the added incentive of the Horsemen thrown in, things would grow very heated, very fast. The other members of the stable would make their way to ringside, looking on, but wouldn't become physically involved at any point in the match. It's a matter of respect, of tradition. Never at any point in their history has anyone questioned Flair's leadership, let alone tried to knock him from power. In doing so, Benoit would be taking quite a gamble with both his health and his future.

In the ring, both would be evenly matched. Control would be off and on, with Flair taking the overall advantage through much of it. Benoit would hesitate, as he's used to following this man, and Flair would take instant advantage with an eye rake, nut shot or some other underhanded tactic. Near the end, Benoit would finally start to understand: Flair isn't doing it because he's a dick, he's trying to teach his student something. With that, the Wolverine would unleash everything in his arsenal and things would quickly grow even once again. Flair would stick to the ground, working relentlessly on the knee while Benoit would utilize everything under his power, including some stuff he's never pulled out in America. It would be back and forth for some time, before a final combo would see Benoit stuck in the figure four. Showing pain as only he can, Benoit would scream and lunge desperately for the ropes to no avail. Flair won't be going anywhere. Realizing his leg is useless even if he does escape, Benoit takes advantage of the last chance he'll get to move in close. Gritting his teeth, he grabs Flair by the hair and yanks him over to close range. He then proceeds to drive elbow after elbow into the back of Flair's head, neck and shoulders. Flair screams and throws his arms up to cover... releasing the figure four in the process. Benoit takes the cue, nabs Flair's flailing left arm, and locks him into the Crossface with an uncanny fluidity. He wrenches back, and Flair taps. The Horsemen invade the ring, staring down at their former leader. And, with one last shared glance as friends, they proceed to tear him apart. There isn't room for two leaders in the Horsemen.

...so this is it, for good (or until I've run out of ideas.) I've had a great time putting these things together, and I hope it came through all right with my words. Got a question? Comment? Suggestion? Want to tell me I'm wrong in each case? Drop me a line at drqshadow@aol.com.

Oh yeah, and before I go this time... I've been laughing at this old column I wrote up some time ago, dealing with Acclaim's old release, WWF Attitude. Truly some of my funniest stuff. You can check it out here. I'd totally forgotten about writing it, and it got a laugh or two out of me. Worth peeking at if you're bored.

until next time, i remain


Copyright © Q 2006. If you want to link me or repackage my words somewhere else, it's cool... just let me know.
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