And now, your bit of culture for the day, via my inbox...
Written while I should have been working:
Flippin’ through the channels back in nineteen-eighty-eight
I spied a badass freak in leather pants, a bandana and shades
He was agitated, tense, most certainly a head case
But he looked awesome on that stage with that gold belt ‘round his waist
It came to pass his name was Savage, and his conduct proved costly
He was braggin’, posin’, boastin’, roastin’ Ted Dibiase
When suddenly a Giant struck, but when all seemed lost, he
Called upon his friend the Hulkster to come bolster his posse
And with good reason; I concede Elizabeth was fine
But soakin’ wet that southern belle weighed maybe one-twenty-nine
They called themselves the Mega-Powers, and without even tryin’
They made all their foes retreat like their receding hairlines
Then the inevitable heel turn, as Savage turned jealous
Convinced that the Hulkster was a bit overzealous
In his affection for Liz, his need to dom’nate the biz
And we fans were left to plead, “How could it have come to this?”
But little did we know that that was only the start
A DeLorean flash-forward to break your little mark heart:
Elizabeth is dead and Hulk Hogan is a dick
Randy Savage is a paranoid-ass hip-hop trick
Many others ‘mong our heroes are now dead like Liz
Bam Bam Bigelow and Big John Studd and Davey Boy Smith
Mr. Perfect and the Earthquake, but the worst part is
Twenty ‘Manias later, Vince McMahon still lives
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