Rasslin & Youtube, a match made in Heaven.

Earlier this morning, a friend sent me an email containing a link to "Headlock on My Heart," the finest Dolly Parton/Hulk Hogan collaboration in history. To fully explain what's going on in this video would require far more than mere words. We're talking about a heartwarming story of unrequited love between an ample-chested wrestling fan and her idol, only to watch fate intervene at the end, allowing them to exchange vows in the most romantic of all possible settings... the squared circle.

As a recovering Hulkamaniac, I can certainly see the logic in this. Should I ever walk down the aisle, I can only dream that it would be among thousands of screaming fans... and to Hulk Hogan... wait, did I just type that?

Of course, in the interest of fairness, I'll show you the actual music video in question. After all, you can't possibly get the full, wonderful picture of Dolly and The Hulkster being bound in holy matrimony just based on my description.



Seeing this masterpiece inspired me, set me off on a quest to find other magical moments in wrestling's storied past. No wrestling post could ever be complete without including what may possibly be the greatest example of not only wrestling themed rock & roll, but maybe rock & roll as a whole... Rick Derringer's "Real American."



Here we are shown that Hulk Hogan is one of America's true heroes, on par with not only Martin Luther King and Kennedy but also Abe Lincoln and George Washington. We also see Hulk's kindness, as a giant Hogan storms the country being careful not to destroy any of the national landmarks that visits, although his massive size and giant pythons would certainly allow for it. We even get a glimpse into the future... a future where Hulk Hogan takes his rightful place on Mt. Rushmore (or should we say, Mt. Hulkmore!)

It should be noted that not everyone in wrestling history was as enamored with Hulk Hogan as the children of my generation. Dare I say, The Hulkster even has his share of enemies. Although he eventually overcame his differences with Andre The Giant and The Iron Sheik, his rocky relationship with Dr. D may never have normalized after a series of comments questioning Hulk's sexuality.



Speaking of latent homosexuality, many professionals and intellectuals often point out that the very concept of professional wrestling is based in a psychological need for men to act out their homosexual feelings. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. There is nothing latently homosexual about wrestling, and there is CERTAINLY nothing latently homosexual about the last 30 or so seconds of this ominous threat from former wrestler, Magnum TA.



Nope... not one single thing. Hell, his name ends with the letters T & A, he's clearly into the ladies.

As far as wrestling goes, there may be no bigger "make or break" platform than the interview. You're given a few seconds to spew hatred for your fellow man, challenge them to a brawl and attempt not to thoroughly embarrass yourself. Some have taken this platform to new heights. For example, no one could match the intensity lack of coherent thought displayed by The Ultimate Warrior on any given day. When he says (what sounds like), "The family that I live for only breathes the air that smells of carpet, with or without the space age," you know that he means it... and if you're on the wrong end of Mr. Warrior, you know that you're in for trouble.

Of course, we all can't be The Ultimate Warrior



It may have taken the actual Billy Graham to save Superstar Billy Graham from himself in that one.

However bad it might be, Graham did get his point across... he doesn't care for Dusty Rhodes. In fact, Graham's hatred for Rhodes grew so strong, that as you can see to your left, he actually tried to eat him.

With dozens of shows each month, wrestlers can grow confused as to their surroundings or even their location. From time to time the jet lag (or van lag, as is more likely in your lower tiers of wrestling) can begin to take its toll on a body and mind. Even seasoned veterans, like Georgia's own Jerry Blackwell, can have trouble remembering exactly where they are, even if they're still in the United States. Watch below as Mr. Blackwell (the GOOD one) attempts to recall in which nation he should be champion... despite the name of the arena being prominently displayed next to him!



As interesting as that clip may be, the story of Jerry Blackwell may be even more fascinating. Blackwell left the world of wrestling, lost a few pounds, changed his name to Brad Leland and went on to greener pastures in Hollywood. Ok, I made that up, but the resemblance is eerie, and I'm fairly certain that I've never seen them in a room together. I hereby offer a reward... four cans of Tab Energy Drink to the first person that can show me a photograph of Brad Leland and Jerry Blackwell together, no photoshops!

Celebrity and wrestling go hand in hand. Whether it's Donald Trump or Kevin Federline, everyone wants a piece of the action. Unfortunately, these days our wrestling/celebrity interaction is largely contained within the ominous confines of the ring, but oh how I remember when stepping out of the ring and onto a set was as common as hearing church bells on Sunday. It was a simpler time, when our favorite famous folks eagerly awaited the opportunity to bring our favorite rasslin' folks on board.

Of all these pairings, perhaps none was more magical than The Ultimate Warrior saddling up with The Ultimate Drummer, Phil Collins.



Wrestling has changed over the years. Our Saturday Mornings no longer feature "Hulk Hogan's Rock & Wrestling," vitamins are going untaken, prayers unsaid. The Country boys are being messed with, no one is grabbing them cakes, and perhaps most disturbing of all giant, overweight rednecks from deepest, darkest Africa's talents are wasted. However, all hope is not lost. We can count on one thing in this crazy world, the Iron Sheik's cutting-edge commentary.



As I watched that video, hearing The Sheik explain his disappointment with Michael Richards, his hatred for David Letterman and his love for his photos of black people, I'm tempted to paraphrase Michael Moore's Oscar speech...

Shame on you, Mr. Richards. And any time that you've got Al Sharpton and The Iron Sheik against you, your time is up.

Thanks Sheik, thanks for caring.