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The Nacho Man Randy Savage Odyssey
Ok, I had a very bizarre day today. It all happened coming back from my Organic Chem lab around 4:00 ...
I get a call from my friend Lawler. Elliott Smith is dead. He's stabbed himself in the chest, Shakespeare-style. How sad. I was really getting into his music, especially during the summer, when I picked up 3 of his 5 albums. Very tight, interesting guitar playing, great lyrics, and I was just waiting for him to really explore what he could do in the studio with his music. But he's dead. I will miss him, as much as one can miss some public figure they’ve known only through song.
Anyway, so I come back from lab, and my friends whisk me off to the mall (well, I whisk them off to the mall ... after all, I’m the only one with a car). If you live in the Pennsylvania/Delaware/New Jersey/Maryland area, you may have heard of it: the King of Prussia mall. I believe it’s the second largest mall in America. But I could be wrong, and I really don't care that much. Anyway, it turns out former wrestler Macho Man Randy Savage has put out a RAP ALBUM. That's right, a rap album. Truth be told, I had listened to some of it the night before, and Jesus is it terrible fucking rap. Check out these amazing lyrics from his song dedicated to bashing Hulk Hogan, "Be a Man," the new hit single from Macho Man's album: "Hollywood Hulkster, you're at the end of your rope / And I'm gonna kick you in the butt and wash your mouth out with soap." That’s right, kids. Macho Man is so extreme, he’s going to kick that nasty Mr. Hogan IN THE BUTT (not the ASS, but the BUTT), and then WASH HIS MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP. My god, and they let children hear this stuff? Now usually, I don't like rap; rock and some of the more ... hmm, what's the term ... ah yes, the more TALENT-REQUIRING genres being my personal cup of tea. But I can still recognize good rap. And let me tell you, this is the worst rap I have ever heard. It sounds like someone threw a fish on a keyboard, turned out a tinny synthesizer that comes with a trial version of some terrible music-editing program, and had some ADHD 12-year-old write some rhymes. The end result is some really terrible, stupid beats which combine with Savage's gravely voice that sounds like he's pinching a loaf; in short, it's not pretty.
Anyway, Macho Man was set to be at the King of Prussia mall today, October 22, from 6:00-8:00, signing all sorts of crap, namely, his new album. So we get to the mall, find the right store, and proceed to get in line; there are maybe 30 people in line already, and all I can think of is and interview Schmiddy had read me the night before, where Savage himself said "this isn't a publicity stunt, this isn’t a novelty act; I'm serious about my music." Indeed. This would become a phrase I would repeat ironically throughout the event. We’re all there out of a deranged thirst for the bizarre; none of us really like this music, or so I thought. However, in order to wait in line to meet Savage, you have to get a bracelet; to get said bracelet, you have to buy his album. Three of my idiot friends - Slash, Schmiddy, and Fitz - buy the album and get bracelets. I just asked the girl at the desk for one, after Fitz bought his, and she just sighed and gave me one. Score! Maybe it’s my charms, or my three days of not showering. So we’re in line, and there are some real hardcore Macho Man fans there in the "crowd." They’re spouting off lines from WrestleMania Thirty-Whogivesashit, like "Hogan, you COWARD!!!" in their best Macho Man voice. I keep calling him "Nacho Man Randy Savage" waiting for some fan to flip out when he realizes I’ve been calling him by such a blatantly obvious wrong name, especially since there are posters everywhere that clearly say "MACHO MAN." Sadly, no one noticed. I then started attributing other famous professional wrestling feats to Nacho Man. The only one I could think of was Hulk Hogan’s body-slam of Andre the Giant. So I say "Hey, remember when Nacho Man Randy Savage body slammed Andre the Giant?! THAT WAS AWESOME!" Again, it seemed to go right over the heads of these high-brow Nacho Man fans. So in a last-ditch effort, I started using the catchphrases of other wrestlers, as if they were Nacho Man's. "Can you smell what the Nacho Man is cooking?!" or "Because NACHO MAN said so!" Again, nothing. I asked my friend Dave, who wasn’t waiting in line, to find me something for me to give Nacho Man to sign. Eventually he grabbed a green, rectangular piece of plastic that read "We Buy Used Video Games." How appropriate.
Finally, after waiting in line FOREVER (about 15-20 mins.), some jackass with a camera comes to rile us up, screaming "It'll be on the website! It'll be on the website!" He keeps giving us this "I dunno if we can film these guys, they aren't INTENSE ENOUGH!!!" act, like we don't clearly see the bullshit act. A couple of other fans in front of us, who all have Nacho Man posters and their copy of "Pro Wrestling Weekly" (or something), start screaming and doing there best idiot "impersonation" until finally, the man, the Nacho man himself, NACHO MAN RANDY SAVAGE came into view and brought his healing light of grace to cleanse us all.
Randy "Nacho Man" Savage makes his grand entrance.
That’s right kids, there he was, in the flesh. Randy "Nacho Man" Savage. The Nacho Nacho Nacho Man. He’s gotta be at least 50, but with all that cocaine and steroid abuse, he doesn’t look a day over 47. After an eternity of anxious waiting (about another 10 minutes), we finally got up to meet the Man. The Myth. The [nacho cheesy] Legend. First up was Slash, who is such a huge wrestling fan, I feel bad making fun of him any more.
Slash and The Nacho Man.
Next up was Fitz. As the rap connoisseur, I was confident that Fitz would have some inspiring words for a fledgling rap artist like Nacho Man Randy Savage. As it turns out, Fitz was so awe-struck that he went mute and started bleeding from the eyes. He maintained his composure long enough to out-flex Mr. Savage, but immediately afterwards he fell to the ground in a fit of tears and farting. Actually, he just got an autograph and walked away. But still.
Fitz out-flexes "Da Nacho."
Then it was Schmiddy’s turn. Schmiddy went up to Da Nacho, got his picture taken, and failed to say anything funny or of any worth whatsoever.
Schmiddy and Da Nacho.
Finally, it was my turn to meet Nacho Man. So up I go. I keep telling him how I love his work, and whenever I fail to find something funny I just say "AWESOME!" with a stupid grin. After Schmiddy got his CD signed, I asked Nacho Man to sign my piece of green plastic. "It’s for my brother," I said. "I ordered mine off-line, like, a MONTH AGO, and it hasn’t come yet," was to be my story if they asked why I didn’t have a copy of the CD for him to sign. I asked Nacho Man to make it out to "Smitty," and he asked how I spell that, as his entourage sighs as we take up more of this man’s invaluable time. I just want you to remember, this is not a novelty act. "S-m-i-t-t-y." Thanks Nacho, you are the COOLest! I said. As I pose for a picture with Nacho Man (notice that he’s doing the same meaningless pose in every one of these pictures; to be fair, he’d had a pretty rough day, he was signing for a good 20 minutes and he *was* coked out of his mind), Schmiddy was unable to grasp the concept of digital photography; despite his best efforts, he couldn’t take the picture. I was thinking, "I’ll be DAMNED if I’ve wasted all this time and money (well, time) to come see Nacho Man Randy Savage, only to leave without a picture!" Thankfully, Fitz grabbed the camera from the bumbling, stupid Schmiddy, who at this point was weeping softly and talking to himself, and took my picture (as the groans of "COME ON, guys!" from Nacho Man’s security grew ever louder).
Myself and Nacho Man Randy Savage.
And then it was over. As I walked away, I kept saying how "I'm looking forward to Album 2," or something. You can see my green piece of plastic, complete with Nacho Man’s signature, on the table right there. If you ask me nicely, I may take it out of frame and let you actually hold it some time. When we left the store, we were all in awe of the greatness we had just witnessed. We kept thinking of other things for him to sign, like Slim Jims and articles of clothing. We managed to find the food court and we all digested our brush with Mr. Savage by digesting our greasy food of choice (come to think of it, the two are pretty similar). We wanted to go back and get him to sign some other stuff, but we all agreed that he would have packed up and left by now; the crowd would have been too out of control. Shit, Nacho Man is such a man, he would already be in California signing at another store. So we bought some cigars and went back to school. The end.
So yeah. Bizarre. Just remember, this isn't a novelty act.