Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Does Anything Say Meth Addict More Than A Sunfire? And Other Stories From My Youth

Domebeer-aholics, it is no secret that we here love us some professional wrestling. We are very sorry for those of you out there who don't, but we will make no apologies for it. We won't apologize for the fact that our fathers loved us, spent time with us, and watched wrestling with us when we were young. We won't apologize for the fact that our fathers brought us into the age old male tradition of watching wrestling, like their fathers before them. It's not our fault if some of you out there refuse to accept the generational and cultural touchstone that is professional wrestling.

Beyond that, there is the local tradition of wrestling to these here parts. Alberta, Calgary in particular, is a hotbed for wrestling; an incubator for the passion and dreams of every prairie boy wannabe World Champion. Stu Hart has his roots in this city. Stampede Wrestling was born here.

Besides that, wrestling has offered us a lifetime of free classes as it pertains to writing, storyline and plot development, marketing, comedy and comedic timing, acting, and a whole host of other activities. If one is willing to look, wrestling can teach a lot.

Alas, not all of these lessons are as light hearted and fun as the product in the ring. Indeed, many are as sad as the shattered and jaded gladiators performing in the nameless towns before faceless crowds in the centre square.

 On September 5th, 2010, Jim 'The Anvil' Neidhart was arrested in Tampa, Florida, "ingesting multiple pills that he dropped on the ground" while stopped at a gas station driving a silver Pontiac Sunfire.

Neidhart was caught with 55.6 grams of Oxycontin and 17.4 grams of methadone he did not have a prescription for. Because he didn't have a prescription (or money, by the looks of it) for the drugs, he decided he would rip off the back door of his drug dealers, err, acquaintances house, and steal them from her.

The high from pulling off such a clever and cunning caper was evidently not enough for Mr. Neidhart, as he would rush off hundreds of feet down the block, arriving within minutes to the corner gas station where he immediately began ingesting the aforementioned pain pills. The sight of a 300 pound plus man, swallowing pills he had dropped on the ground seemed to have caught the curiosity of the other customers, because Neidhart would start yelling at them, and causing a general and uncomfortable disturbance.

Ending general and uncomfortable disturbances caused by drug addled 300 pound men is about the best argument we can think of for the existence of police officers, and the fine people at that corner gas station seem to agree. Police officers were indeed called, and indeed dispatched, to the scene, were they would find a sad and pathetic creature "ingesting multiple pills that he dropped on the ground".

There are a lot of layers for one to peel away at with this story. We could talk about how sad it is when the spotlight goes away. We could talk about how this man's chosen profession, which made him a hero of sorts, has driven him into a life of pain pill abuse, which has now made him a pariah. We could even talk about the universe and its sense of humour; another Calgary product losing in Tampa Bay.

We could talk about all that but we won't. What intrigued us most about this story, other than 'ingesting multiple pills that he dropped on the ground", was 'silver Pontiac Sunfire'.

Jim 'The Anvil' Neidhart, professional wrestler, and one who signed at least one biggish money contract, has been reduced to rolling around the crack cul-de-sacs in Tampa, breaking into houses and stealing pills, in a silver Pontiac Sunfire. Pathetic. At the most, that's a $15,000 dollar car, mint. It probably cost him a couple grand.

Honestly, what's worse: getting your reputation ruined over stealing $300 dollars worth of pills, or having the world find out that you, professional wrestler of twenty years, headliner of Pay-Per-Views, were driving around in a silver Pontiac Sunfire. 

Sticking with sad and pathetic drug users (allegedly), Dion Phaneuf has guaranteed that the Toronto Maple Leafs will make the playoffs. We wonder if the Toronto media will hold Mr. Phaneufs feet to the fire over this prediction. Why? Because there is no way in hell that this roster is making the playoffs. For fuck sakes, Kotalik would play on the second line for the Leafs.

That isn't to say that we hate the gumption. A little swagger is a healthy thing to have, and we wouldn't mind seeing it from our dear captain, at least once in a while.

Sac up Elvis, and boldly declare that we will indeed make 8th place. Guarantee it. In fact, the Flames could start a whole new advertising campaign based on it: The 2010-2011 Calgary Flames. 8th place or bust!

Furthermore, I think Peter Loubardias should be fired.


  1. Bad News Allen was the night security guard at the shitty apartment I lived in when I first moved to Calgary. I was torn. I wanted to let him know I thought he was the shit when I was a kid but didn't know how he would react. Then . . . he died. Wrestling is a tough business.

  2. Bold predictions--Flames are 10th in the west. Jokinen gets arrested for ingesting pills he finds on the ground.

  3. U know most people who hang out with or are Hart's don't end well.

    Owen- dead
    Bull dog - dead
    Beniot - dead
    Pillman - dead
    Albright - dead
    Bruce - Substitute teacher!

    Could be worst. At least his daughter is hot!

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