I’m feeling especially miserable today. I was yesterday, too, but I wanted to make a blog post at some point- mainly because if nothing else, it’s something to do. The problem here is the fact that a) I don’t want to bore you with whatever stupid ideas/thoughts I’ve got swimming about, a b) I don’t want to waste internet space whining. I do that enough without going out of my way to do it.

So instead, here are what I consider the greatest promos in wrestling history:

Honourable mentions go to CM Punk, Jake “The Snake” Roberts, William Regal, Chris Jericho and Edge & Christian.

3) Dusty Rhodes, Hard Times:


2) Pretty much anything Ric Flair said between 1986 and 1994:


1) Mick Foley (Cactus Jack), Cane Dewey:


In fact, here’s the transcript from that one. Pretty intense, yo:

 More than anyone else in that ECW dressing room, Tommy Dreamer, maybe more than anybody else in the wrestling industry, you are willing to pay the price, to sweat, to bleed, to suffer. You’re willing to bear that cross, and I say Tommy, don’t do it! Because, you see, in order to sacrifice and bear that cross for them, it means I’ve got to suffer too, and I’m telling you from the voice of experience, that they’re not worth it, Tommy. They’re not worth it!


You see, you’ve got the choice, not me. I made my bed of nails, and now I’ve got no other choice but to be powerbombed on it. But you see, Tommy, the world is smiling at you, the wrestling business is smiling at you, and don’t you frown back on it!


I’m going to take you back to a very deciding point in my life – a time when I believed in something. A time when I thought that my face and my name made a difference. Do you remember the night, Tommy Dreamer, because it’s embedded in my skull, it’s embedded in my heart, and it’s embedded in every nightmare that I will ever have again. As Terry Funk took a bottle and began slicing and dicing Cactus Jack, the pain was so much, Tommy, that I’ll be honest with you, I wanted to say, “I quit, Terry Funk, I give, I wave the flag, and I’m a coward – please don’t cut me anymore,” when I saw my saving grace, you see, Tommy, I looked out in that audience, my adoring crowd, and I saw two simple words that changed my life- “Cane Dewey.”
Somebody had taken the time and the effort and the thought to make a sign that said “Cane Dewey.” And I saw other people around, as every moment in my life stopped and focused in on that sign, and the pain that shot through my body became a distant memory, replaced by the pain which will be embedded into my skull to my dying day! “Cane Dewey. CANE DEWEY.” Dewey Foley is a three-year old boy, you sick sons of bitches!

YOU RIPPED OUT MY HEART! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING I BELIEVED IN, AND YOU FLUSHED IT DOWN THE DAMN TOILET! You flushed my heart, you flushed my soul, and now it sickens me to sit back and see other people making the same mistake!

You see, Tommy Dreamer, I gotta listen to my little boy every day of my life saying, “Daddy, I miss Atlanta,” and I’d say, “It’s too bad son,” because your dad traded a Victorian house for a sweatbox in Long Island. Your dad traded in a hundred-thousand dollar contract, guaranteed money, insurance, respect, and the name on the dotted line of the greatest man in the world… to work for a scumbag who operates out of a little pissant pawn shop in Philadelphia.

You don’t expect me to be bitter? Tommy, when you open up your heart, when you open up your soul, and it gets shit on, it tends to make Jack a very mean boy. And so I’m saying to you, before I take these aggressions out on you, to look at your future, and realise that the hardcore life is a lie, that these letters behind me are a blatant lie, that those fans who sit there and say, “He’s Hardcore, He’s Hardcore, He’s Hardcore,” wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire, you selfish son of a bitch!

But I want you to understand, Tommy, and though he’s hurt you time and time again, deep in his heart, Raven wants you to understand that the hatred I have in here is not for you. No, far removed. You see, Tommy, I’m not doing this because I hate you… I love you, man! I only want the best for you, but when I hear that WCW called up your number and you say, “No thank you,” well it makes my blood run cold, as cold as that night in the ECW Arena.

And so I have got a moral obligation… you see, Tommy, I’m on the path of righteousness, and righteous men wield a lot of power. So if I have got to drag you by your face to that telephone call and dial collect and say, “Hello, Eric, it’s me, Cactus, and though I know I’ve burnt my bridge, and I’ll never be taken back with open arms, I’ve got a wrestler who would gladly trade in his ECW shirt for a pair of green suspenders.” Tommy, just think of that sound in your ear when Uncle Eric says, “Welcome home, Tommy Dreamer. Welcome home.” I love being right…


So yeah, there’s a few videos. And here’s a picture of John Candy in Uncle Buck, just because:

Uncle Buck


This gets too relatable.

I might make a new mixtape at some point this week.

(Dial Tone)


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