While in GA there was a pool party that brought a lot of my wife’s family to town. This is my wife’s cousin’s daughter, Martha, which I guess would make her my 2nd cousin-once removed-by marriage. Or maybe it’s 2nd cousin by marriage-once removed. Something like that.

During breaks the kids took over the ring and they knew all the moves. Here’s my conversation with this young rassler. “Wanna see me jump? I can jump. Wanna see me, huh? I can jump. Wanna see me? I can jump. Wanna see me, huh…huh?”

You wonder how many times in one night you can think, “I never thought I’d see that”.

As hard as it is to believe, these guys do this for fun. Nobody gets paid…zip, nada, nothin’.

“Fast Freddie” is trying to extricate his underwear from his crack, the result of a “Nuclear Wedgie”, and be intimidating at the same time. Not an easy feat.

As best as I can figure, the guy on the left was the security guard, since he showed up whenever they called for security. For a while I thought that was a bottle of soda he was holding, but it finally dawned on me that it was lasting a long time and instead of less soda there was more. I guess it wouldn’t look good for security to just spit on the floor.

The show was in a un-airconditioned steel building. The temperature had been in the triple digits all day and was still in the 90’s when the matches started, so there was plenty of sweat and the air had the not so faint odor of, as one person put it, “toe cheese”.

The fellow on the left is “Fast Freddie”, my brother-in-law’s co-worker. Freddie’s role was that of villanous, low-down, cheatin’ manager. When the other team caught Freddie cheatin’ they called him out and got him in the ring. Like all villanous, low-down, cheatin’ managers, Freddie was a coward and tried to run away, forgetting that when you turn your back, you expose yourself to the dreaded “Nuclear Wedgie”.

Back from a week in Georgia visiting my wife’s family. It would make for a really funny caption to stop there, but not a very peaceful marriage, so let me explain.

My brother-in-law is a carpenter/woodworker. One of the guys he works with is a rassler (wrestler for those above the Mason-Dixon line). “Fast Freddie”, as he’s known, has been after my brother-in-law for years to come to the Saturday night rasslin’ show. I thought it was a splendid idea and twisted Glenn’s arm until he agreed.

This is “Cowboy” getting an old fashion ass-whuppin from a rassler we affectionately named “Butterbean”, for obvious reasons. More to come.

At one time this was a store. Then it was abandoned. My wife always wanted to buy it and move it to where we live and make it her studio. Doesn’t look like we’ll get the chance now. The roof collapsed about a month ago. Passersby discovered it was a slate roof and have been slowly removing the slate a little at a time. They’ve even nailed 2×4s to it, so they can reach the last remaining pieces at the top. It’s kind of sad, like watching vultures picking over a carcass. I wish we had bought it now.