h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I take this to mean you are a somewhat avid wrestlin' fan?

NM

No, I'm an avid philosopher fan.

I've just got a good friend who insisted on teaching me the "Stone Cold Stunner" and that's just what it reminded me of... throwing a bunch of philosophers/writers/etc into a ring and having them battle it out. Sort of like that one Monty Python sketch with the German vs. French thinkers in a soccer (football for ya others) match... tee hee .

Professional Philosopher Wrestling. This is good idea (better than my Bungi jumping Elvi with French cheese thing). Would we Have Hulk Hagel's girlfriend in a fight with Friggin' Freud's mother before matching up with Too Young Jung?

Would they choreograph the acrobatics beforehand - like you put me in a Half-Socrates and when I bang my fist I will flip you over with a sudden Double-Descartes.

Of course, and they'd have to have somewhat mad fans, like this:
*jumps up and down screaming* Voltaire's the best!! VOLTAIRE!!!

I don't know... I rather like the blatant frankness of Socrates... and the blatant stupidness (in his assumptions) of Bertrand Russell

Beefcake Burt Russell and Irate Socrates (philosophical wrestling fans pronounce it that way) should match up in the ring to sort this out - or sort out whatever the promoter wants.

You could always have Plato throwing "The Punch" (as opposed to mere mortal punches, I'm talking The Punch) of humanity's collective conscienceness... That would knock a few of 'em out quick...

Then Ayn Rand walks around the ring with the round number on some cardboard.

How about Philosopher Soccer: with Karl Marx on the left and Ayn Rand on the right?

Holy crappin' way... talk about your topic drift! Am I the only one here that likes Bowie?

"Wolf's nipple chips, get 'em while they're 'ot. They're luvverley... Albatross! ... Should I kiss the viper's fang or herald loud the death of man?... Albatross! ... O Rose thou art sick, the invisible worm that flies in the ni... Albatross! ... So it's five all between the Western and Eastern philosophers and we're down to a sudden death decider question. Stand by your buttons. Which innovative radio series spawned a series of books, a TV series, a website and has a film in production? *Buzz* Yes, Confuscious? - Me say, forty tw... Albatross!... and so on and so forth and fifthly"

Well anyway that's what he said. I wouldn't bother meself.

Who, David Bowie? How about wrestling with David Bowie vs who? Iggy Pop?

Iggy'd win. Hands down.

Would Ozzie be the official, or the reining champion?....Would Elton have a chance, or would he have to return to his '70's style to be eligible?.....Does Alice Cooper stand a chance in h**l?...And who is this bunch who call themselves "KISS", anyway?

Stay tuned to this channel for further updates on the WWGRF!

NM

And the operator says, "Forty cents more for the next three minues, please."

(Or the announcer. )

Ozzie...

I saw a program on a cross-dressing club for men in Toronto, apparently some people like to do this in their spare time. I thought they all looked like a bunch of aging heavy metal stars in dresses.

Maybe they have wrestling on Thursday nights.

Nope. Tuesdays, maybe, but Thursday is ladies night.

*guitars boom from background* aye aye aye aye aye aye.... I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train....
*in walks Alice Cooper, accompanied by Rob Zombie* Oh no you ain't, Ozzy, boy. 'coz we'll meet you In the hands of death... burn baby burn
*out of nowhere appears David Bowie* They're ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changin'... into Americans! I'm afraid of Americans... I'm afraid of the world....
*Kiss drop in from cieling* We'll put you all into a pssyyyycccoooo circus...
*From the floor emerges Trent Reznor, with some pots and a spoon to bang them with* I control you...

NOOO!!!! What have you started!!! NOohooohooo *Fenny falls to ground and sobs uncontrollably*

*turns the channel*

All right! Rock Wars III !

*In walks Freddie from Freddie and the Dreamers. Rather than being dead, as we had long suspected, he rips off his shirt to reveal rock hard upper-body development that would put Iggy Pop and Henry Rollins to shame.*

*He starts to do his familiar camp dance but stops mid-pansy-jump. Now he is standing stock still.*

*You notice his thousand yard stare and can visibly see how the years of pent up Mersey Beat anonimity have wound him up like a clockwork spring about to unwind as every vein in his body is pumping on red alert over his taught muscles - resembling the pipes on the exterior of the Pompidou Centre.*

*He sets up a brutal metronomic rhythm, created by beating the long claw hammer he carries in his right fist repeatedly onto his abs. Blood starts to trickle down the hammer's shaft but the tempo remains unchanged...*

*Over this beat he begins to chant a mantra over and over again*

Come and 'av a go if you think you're 'ard enough...
Come and 'av a go if you think you're 'ard enough...
Come and 'av a go if you think you're 'ard enough...
Come and 'av a go if you think you're 'ard enough...
Come and 'av a go if you think you're 'ard enough...
Come and 'av a go if you think you're 'ard enough...
Come and 'av a go if you think you're 'ard enough...