He rose from the dead. Consumed flesh. Preached to the masses. No, he’s not Jesus. He’s Timothy R. Calkins Jr, aka Tim Arson, aka The ECW Zombie, a gimmick now immortalized in the Wrestling Bollocks Hall of Fame. Though Calkins didn’t begin his career undead. He got his start in 2001, trained by total legend Johnny Rodz. Under the ring name Tim Arson, he made his in-ring debut on a USA Pro Wrestling show against some dude called Stormin’ Norman, who may or may not exist.

For the next several years, Arson predominantly stayed with USA Pro Wrestling, occasionally branching out to work other East Coast Indies. Then, in 2005, Arson would travel to America’s Step-sibling, Puerto Rico, to compete in the World Wrestling Council’s Bruiser Brody Memorial Cup Tour. And that’s a touchy subject right there. Not Arson taking part in the Brody Cup. But the fact that the cup existed at all. Bruiser Brody was an icon. A legit scary wild man who you believed could and would go into business for himself whenever the mood so happened to strike. He was a massive draw in the Territory days, particularly in Puerto Rico, where he worked for WWC. Which is where he was murdered. Stabbed to death in the showers by living scumbag José González (Invader 01). A crime González was never charged with, a crime many believe involved, on some level, other living scumbags, WWC owners Carlos Colón Sr. and Victor Jovica. The idea of holding a Memorial tour for a man you more than likely had killed is disgraceful, disgusting, and downright despicable.

Though it shouldn’t be held against Tim Arson for competing in it. He wouldn’t win the cup. But he’d stick around the Free Associated State of Puerto Rico for a while. Having a considerable run throughout the first half of 2006. Along with Rico Suave (Not the song), Arson won the WWC Tag Team Titles from TNA Originals, America’s Most Wanted (Wildcat Chris Harris and The Tennessee Cowboy James Storm). June 12th, nine days after winning the WWC tag belts, Tim Arson went head-to-head with Matt Striker on WWE Heat. He lost. But Tim Arson wasn’t about to let a little old loss keep him down. Instead, he was going to die and return from the grave the very next night.

Tuesday the 13th, the world premiere episode of the all-new WWECW on Sic-Fi. Because when you think wrestling, you think the Sci-Fi channel. It’s been said the Network wanted content that would appeal to their audience—meaning horror/sci-fi gimmicks and angles—asking for names like The Undertaker and Kane. Of course, Vince McMahon wasn’t going to give away big money names to a third-rate brand airing on the same station that once aired Stan Lee’s Who Wants to Be a Superhero? That is, unless those names were Kurt Angle and Big Show. So, with no Undertaker, no Kane, no Boogeyman (not yet, anyway), the WWE needed to find some other genre-inspired grapplers if they wanted to appease their new Sci-fi overlords.

Reports from the time claimed WWE’s initial plans were to feature The Sandman (the wrestler, not the Neil Gaiman comic book character. That would’ve been really freaking weird. Probably not any weirder than Robocop helping out Sting at WCW’s Capital Combat. Though in 2006, Gaiman’s creation didn’t have the notoriety it has since the Netflix series. But of course, ECW Wrestler Raven did wear a Neil Gaiman Sandman shirt back in the original ECW, so there’s that.

In a segment with a little green man (not Hornswoggle), a Martian, presumably from Mars. Would The Sandman have caned the ever-loving fluff out of the visitor before drinking beer…? Probably. That was pretty much The Sandman’s shtick in WWECW. Entrance. Beat up some cartoon with a cane. Drink beer. This Martian whooping never occurred. Allegedly, Sci-Fi channel didn’t like the prospect of an Alien (which they saw as their bread and butter) getting its extraterrestrial ass kicked on one of their shows. So the Martian was out. And the Tim Arson was in.

Either Paul Heyman or Tommy Dreamer pitched the idea of The Zombie. They might not have been able to use extraterrestrial visitors, but they still had to use genre characters and gimmicks. No one was opposed to a zombie having its dead ass kicked, so The Zombie was a go. Arson was backstage that night for this very reason. Not to be The Zombie, but to be there if needed. He was an extra. Sometimes, they get to be security and get beaten up by the Real wrestlers. And sometimes, they get to be fans and get beaten up by the Real wrestlers. And sometimes… Mostly, they’re there in case the Real wrestlers need to beat up some non-wrestler types. They may work a dark match or get jobbed out on TV, but mostly, they’re there to get beaten up. And when The Sandman needed someone to beat up, someone suggested Tim Arson.

Arson was put into tattered and torn clothes, his pockets were stuffed with dirt, and his face was caked in cheap makeup. Tim Arson, one-half of the (at the time) reigning WWC Tag Team champions, was no more. Now, there was only The Zombie. Lumbering to the ring before a confused and embarrassed crowd, The Zombie not only got into the ring. He got on the mic. The Zombie got on the mic and cut a zombie promo.

He groaned, and he moaned into the mic, never speaking a single word. The crowd was as dead as The Zombie was meant to be. They could not have cared less about what they were seeing. All it was was confirmation that ECW was never coming back. They had checked out. Even Not-Metallica’s Enter Sandman hitting and the beer-swigging, cane-swinging Sandman making his way through them could get the crowd back.

Tim Arson took his less-than-thirty-second beating like a champ. Then, it was back to Puerto Rico to defend his tag titles four days later. A successful defense. Before the year was out, Arson and tag partner Rico Suave would drop the belts to Chris Joel and Huracan Castillo. Win them back from Joela and Huracan. Then, lose them again to, you guessed it, Chris Joel and Huracan Castillo. The remainder of Arson’s time in Puerto Rico would be as a singles competitor. He’d continue to work in Puerto Rico, doing shows for IWA Puerto Rico, before the call of the American Independent Wrestling scene grew too loud to ignore. But they weren’t calling for Tim Arson. They were calling The Zombie.

Working both gimmicks, Arson would take bookings as himself and The Zombie for a few years until giving up on himself. Not in that he stopped believing in himself and got all sad and mopey. He just stopped taking bookings as Tim Arson and started working as The Zombie full-time. Until 2014, The Zombie was a regular at shows promoted by Victory Pro Wrestling and National Wrestling Superstars. Sadly, Timothy Calkins died in January 2015, putting an abrupt end to his career and life at just 38. Tim Arson was a solid worker and, in another era, would have had a place on the undercard in any territory. As The Zombie, he was a joke, but not all jokes are bad. He took this literal dead-on-arrival gimmick and gave it life—carving out a nice little niche for himself in the already very niche world of wrestling. And if The Zombie were with us today, Tony Khan would’ve snatched him right up. Try to deny that you wouldn’t hand over hard-earned cash to see the All Elite Zombie. It’d be a helluva lot better than anything else AEW’s done.

Hailing from the Valley of Shadows (Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada) is Holly Letkeman. Better known today by the monstrous moniker of Rosemary.

Okay, maybe it’s not the most menacing or imposing of names, but Rosemary herself is both those things and more. Plus, there’s Rosemary’s Baby—a classic horror flick directed by convicted statutory rapist Roman Polanski so there’s a spooky connection to the name.

Getting her start in the business in 2008, Letkeman was trained by three Canadian greats, Johnny Divine, Tyson Dux, and Coach Scott D’Amore. She’d work her first match on January 30th, 2008, at a Prime Time Wrestling event in Belleville, Michigan, featuring heavy cross-promotion with the Insane Clown Posse’s wrestling promotion, Juggalo Championship Wrestling.

In March, Letkeman took the ring name PJ Tyler, inspired by Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler and possibly Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry, and began performing across the Canadian Indies, frequently appearing for Scott D’Amore’s Border City Wrestling. By her second year, PJ Tyler could be regularly seen on Pro Wrestling Xtreme and Great Canadian Wrestling shows.

It was in the latter promotion that Tyler snagged her first championship, winning the GCW WILD Championship in a tournament. PJ Tyler’s run lasted 117 days before dropping it to some random dude named Anthony Darko. Info on the title change and Darko’s run with the belt isn’t really all that important. Near the end of 2010, Tyler switched up her ring name, dropping the PJ and the Tyler in favor of a Courtney and a Rush.

Courtney Rush didn’t slow down, working feverishly across various indies North of the border and somewhat dipping her toe into the United States indie scene, mainly for SHIMMER Women Athletes’ taping in Chicago, IL. She’d end up signed to Impact Wrestling in 2016. But before that, Courtney Rush dominated Canadian wrestling, amassing quite a collection of championships, including an 833-day reign with the Acclaim Pro Wrestling Women’s championship, among other not-as-lengthy but still pretty lengthy title runs.

On her own, Courtney Rush was bound to make it. She had all the tools needed to succeed in the industry. It was just a matter of time before Courtney Rush was signed with someone. Unfortunately or fortunately—depending on your perspective—Courtney Rush went, and doggone got herself possessed. Possessed by a demon assassin. Rosemary.

Track 10 off Marilyn Manson’s fourth studio album, Holy Wood (In the Shadow of the Valley of Death), filled the Impact Zone on January 26th as Rosemary took the stage. Painted up like some kinda demonic, demented haunted house performer, smudges and smears specked her arms and legs, not a look wrestling fans were accustomed to.

She delivered a terrible, nonsensical promo to the Wolves (Eddie Edwards and Davey Richards), who stood in the ring. Fellow Canadian Crazy Steve and fellow monster Abyss joined Rosemary on stage, officially coming together as Decay. The trio attacked the Wolves—stealing their Tag Team titles in the process. Decay would legitimately hold the titles in March after defeating Beer Money Inc. (Bobby Roode and James Storm) at Sacrifice. Early in the same show, Rosemary scored a shenanigans-filled win over wrestling legend Gail Kim. In October, Rosemary would get some gold of her own. Winning the vacant TNA Knockouts World Championship in a Six-Sides of Steel match against Jade.

A respectable 266 days with the strap ended with Rosemary dropping the belt in a title vs. title unification match with Global Force Wrestling Women’s Champion Sienna (Allysin Kay) at Slammiversary XV. In the weeks leading up to the event, Rosemary turned Face, claiming The Hive had sent her to protect Allie, first saving her from a beatdown from Sienna and Laurel Van Ness. What The Hive exactly is is not entirely clear. It seems to be more of an idea. Or perhaps it’s an ageless being from beyond the stars that is psychically and spiritually linked to the being known as Rosemary.

A feud with the debuting Taya Valkyrie would end before it started, thanks to personal issues on Valkyrie’s part. Rosemary reentered the title hunt, failing to regain the yet-again vacant Knockouts title in a tournament. The feud with Taya Valkyrie picked right back up once Valkyrie returned. Their short-lived angle concluded in a fancily named hardcore match (A Demon’s Dance Match). No longer preoccupied with the title or Taya, Rosemary could again focus on protecting her pal Allie.

And help, Allie needed.

Su Yung had her sights set on ending Allie. On the April 26th, 2018, edition of Impact, Yung, along with a legion of Undead Bridesmaids, attacked Allie, attempting to put her in a coffin—an attempt stopped by Rosemary. If you’re a fan of horror and wrestling, then this is the feud for you. The demonic Rosemary protecting the sweet, innocent Allie from the evil undead bride Su Yung—Chef’s kiss. Big, sloppy, chef’s kiss.

An injury Rosemary sustained at an indie show facilitated the need for her to be written off TV a week after the start of the angle. The May 3rd Impact featured a match between Rosemary and Su Yung. At least it was meant to. Before the bell, the women broke into a brawl on the ramp. Yung summoned her Undead Bridesmaids, who, with them, brought a casket. Allie was there too, trying to assist her best friend, Rosemary. It didn’t go so well. Allie was forced to watch as Su Yung dumped Rosemary into the casket, sealing her inside.

A lot happened while Rosemary healed up. Allie went and doggone got herself possessed, turning Heel and aligning with former rival Su Yung. Allie (now going by Dark Allie) and Su Yung teamed up to defeat Jordynne Grace and Kiera Hogan (No relation to former singer/reality star Brooke Hogan) at the January 2019 Homecoming. Rosemary returned that night, saving Kiera Hogan from a post-match beatdown and reigniting the storyline with Allie and Su Yung. Rosemary worked to free Allie from the demonic hold that had taken over her. Along with Kiera Hogan, at March’s Against All Odds event, Rosemary dragged Allie with her into the Undead Realm in hopes of retrieving her friend’s soul.

Rosemary failed to save Allie’s soul, losing her friend forever.

Rosemary’s revenge came in May when she laid out Su Yung in a Demon Collar Match (Dog Collar Match) where the ladies worked smart rather than hard.

It’s not a terrible match. But it lacked the violence and aggression you’d want from such a heated blood feud between two unholy hell beings. Instead of using the chain to brutalize one another, they found creative ways to incorporate it. Choking spots. Tripping and tangling each other up. Dragging and pulling each other around the ring. It all works. It just would’ve worked better in a different match with different wrestlers. These two should’ve been trying to kill each other. They should have bled to finish off this feud. Though Rosemary did take Su Yung prisoner.

Rosemary kept her captive close, having Su Yung accompany her to the ring over the next few weeks until Father James Mitchell had Havok free Yung while attacking Rosemary during a non-title match with Taya Valkyrie. Rosemary continued her unsuccessful pursuit of the Knockouts Title while simultaneously battling James Mitchell, Havok, and Su Yung. The entire saga came to a head with James Mitchell banishing Havok and Yung to the Undead Wasteland and Rosemary rescuing them.

TNA/Impact Wrestling has always been a wee bit silly. But Wrestle House was the undisputed peak of Impact/TNA buffoonery. A goofy Big Brother/Real World-style reality show, except with a vaguely supernatural twist. They can’t leave the house, possibly due to a curse from Rosemary.

The whole thing was madness. Ridiculous fun to be enjoyed by all but a few wrestling fans with a penchant for brightly colored suits, Southern idioms, and tennis rackets. It might not have been “Real Wrestling,” but it was stupid, creative, and different, which is always appreciated. Her time in Wrestle House led Rosemary to form a brief team with former enemy Taya Valkyrie.

The team of Rosemary and Valkyrie competed in a tournament for the Impact Knockouts Tag Team Titles. They lost and stopped teaming after. She wasn’t single long. Disbanding her team with Valkyrie in December and getting back with one of her exes by January. Ex-partner, that is, and it was Crazy Steve whom she got back together with, reforming Decay—Sans Abyss; in his stead, the group added Luchador Black Taurus and former Rosemary foe-turned-friend Havok. When it comes to the story of Rosemary, it is hard not to be reminded of the famous quote: “Do I not destroy my enemies by making them my friends?” Time after time, rivals become allies.

With Havok, Rosemary would have her first run with the Impact Knockouts Tag Team Championship. The iconic team of The IInspiration (Cassie Lee and Jessica McKay) took the belts from Decay after 98 days. Rosemary floated around the Knockout Tag and Knockout Women’s Championship scenes for a few months with no success. Havok abandoned Rosemary in June, leaving her without a partner to face the Knockouts Tag Team Champions—no longer The IInspiration but now The Influence (Madison Rayne & Tenille Dashwood). However, as fate would have it, an old frenemy was back to get Rosemary’s back. Taya Valkyrie. Valkyrie partnered with Rosemary for a title match at Slammiversary. That night, Rosemary became a two-time Impact Knockouts Tag Team Champion. In addition to aiding Rosemary in getting back the belts, Valkyrie joined Rosemary in her quest to find and bring back Havok.

In the Undead Realm, Rosemary and Valkyrie found a different… Maybe unpossessed Havok, going by the name Jessicka. Eventually, the trio took the name the Death Dollz, defending the belts under the Freebird Rule—a rule allowing any two members of a larger team to defend the belts, possibly made most famous by supergroup, the Spirit Squad, a quintet of male cheerleaders made up of five young men who at one time had dreams of being “serious” pro wrestlers but ultimately just got drenched in poo.

Between 2022 and 2023, the Death Dollz held the belts twice. Losing their titles first to VXT (Chelsea Green & Deonna Purrazzo) before getting them back 56 days later. The Coven (KiLynn King & Taylor Wilde) ended reign two for the Dollz. In the wake of this loss, Rosemary returned to the Undead Realm to retrieve her former partner, leaving her current partner, Jessicka, to wait. Rosemary wouldn’t return.

At the Under Siege pre-show from London, not that one, the Ontario, Canada one, The Coven faced the Death Dollz in a non-title match. Jessicka’s partner was a surprise return. Not Rosemary, but rather, for the first time in some seven years, Courtney Rush—Free of Rosemary’s demonic possession. Rush and Jessicka carried on as the Death Dollz until the demise of Impact Wrestling at the end of 2023.

A brief history of TNA/Impact Wrestling. Founded by J, E, double F, J, A, double R, E, double T, and his father, Jerry Jarrett, in the long, long ago of 2002. That same year, Panda Energy International purchased a controlling share in the promotion, appointing Dixie Carter (the daughter of the company’s owner) president. Smashing Pumpkins’ frontman and full-grown man-baby, Billy Corgan, thought he bought the company. He didn’t. In 2017, Anthem Sports & Entertainment acquired TNA Wrestling, rebranding the promotion as Impact Wrestling. Anthem rebranded again in 2024, reverting to TNA Wrestling. Rebranverting? (That’s a word, right?—If you use your imagination.)

The Rebranverting didn’t stop with the promotion’s name. The Death Dollz also got an all-new-old look. Rosemary was back with Havok by her side as Decay, returning to become TNA Knockouts World Tag Team Champions at the rebrandverted TNA relaunch event, Hard To Kill. And for the most part, that’s the road so far. There’s so much more to the Rosemary story. Years of television, intertwining character arcs, and continuity rarely seen in the weird, wacky, and wild world of wrestling make it something special and worth the time.

Holly Letkeman and everything she’s created within TNA/Impact/TNA (Again) has continuously been a diamond in the rough. Horror or humor, she delivers. Rosemary and her host vessel, Courtney Rush, deserve to be known, and their story to be heard. You could say it’s a shame Rosemary has had to spend so much time trapped in the endless purgatory of TNA/Impact.—On the other hand, WWE never would’ve leaned into the spooky absurdity of Rosemary’s world. More people would’ve seen her and her story. But it wouldn’t have been as good. It wouldn’t have been nearly as good. No, Rosemary is right where she should be. And it’s on us to find her. To join The Hive.

Companies like Pro Wrestling Guerrilla, Chikara, and Dramatic Dream Team Pro Wrestling have proven in years past that comedy and wrestling can work, and work well, together. It all comes down to balance. The proper mixture of the silly and the serious. It’s a difficult line to walk, but not an impossible one.

There aren’t many doing comedy wrestling outside of Japan, with a few exceptions scattered across the United States independent scene. The Insane Clown Posse’s Juggalo Championship Wrestling might be the closest to a U.S.-based comedy wrestling promotion. Though that may not always be intentional. Regardless, there doesn’t seem to be anyone running a comedy-based deathmatch show. That could be because most people have trouble seeing the hilarity in ultraviolence.

Deathmatch wrestling creates an environment of shock and awe. It can be scary, sickening, and so much damn fun. Comedic elements are already present in deathmatch wrestling; all DEW would do is amplify and integrate them into the promotion’s very DNA, crafting the story of a mildly incompetent promoter booking top-tier talent on bizarre cards where things often go awry.

The wrestlers are not the joke (unless, of course, their gimmick is a joke gimmick...) The wrestling is not a joke. These people work hard to do what they do. They put their bodies on the line and get very little back in return. It’s not about laughing at them. It’s about laughing at the absurdity they find themselves in.

Ridiculous weapons, bafflingly overcomplicated stipulations, and over-the-top cartoon logic hold together the brutal, bloody brawls, high-spots, and mat classics. A DEW show needs a level of realism. Needs to take itself seriously.

The talent booked has to be legit. Especially the deathmatch workers. Just because a match might be goofy doesn’t mean the action is. A crowd can laugh at the concept of a Spork You Match and still cringe as said spork is stabbed repeatedly into someone’s face.

Ideally, DEW would run one show a month, at least for the first few years, streaming them anywhere that’ll allow it. Each show would be self-contained, telling its own overall story that may or may not bleed into other shows when it narratively makes sense. However, a continuous theme of well-meaning, ill-prepared incompetence runs throughout all of DEW.

The wrestlers might not be parodies, but that doesn’t mean everybody else isn’t. A ring announcer who can’t read their cards so blatantly makes things up. An authority figure desperate to be everybody’s friend. Awkward pre-taped interviews. Play-by-Play commentary that despises deathmatches paired with an overenthusiastic, knowledgeable Color.

In my first DEW piece, I fantasy booked a debut show. However, that was fantasy, and the reality is DEW would and should debut with the tournament I outlined in my second DEW piece, The Tournament of Mother F’N Murder.

Tournaments are staples of deathmatch wrestling. Every deathmatch company runs at least one annually. DEW would run three, with the Tournament of Mother F’N Murder as the first and biggest of the lot. Joining TOMFM would be the DEW Sole Survivor Tournament, a round-robin style deathmatch tournament, and the DEW Heavy Metal Invitational, a series of no-ropes chain matches culminating in a seven-wrestler steel cage gauntlet. These are the DEW Unholy Trinity. To win one is an accomplishment. To win all three is legendary.

Of course, things wouldn’t always go smoothly; that is part of the gag after all, ill-thought-out scoring systems in the Sole Survivor and a cage with only three sides are only two of the endless possibilities threatening a flawless DEW show.

If done right, fans will never know what to expect, but will always know they’re in for a night of laughs and groans, cheers and boos, and most importantly, fun.

But it all would have to start with that debut show, with the Tournament of Mother F’N Murder. The rules and tone for the entire company would be defined in that first show. It would open with the “Owner” coming out to the ring, a cheery, hyper-nice fellow without a clue. He’d welcome the crowd and really get over that he’s a fan like them, and he’s going to do his very best to bring everybody the best wrestling within his means. Basically, you want to paint the picture that this guy’s heart is in the right place, but his head is not wired for this business.

The first match can’t be a joke. It needs to tell the fans that this is both a comedy and a deathmatch show. In fact, the first two matches should only really involve humor from the ring announcer; not until the third match of the opening round would you want to have something “go wrong” or have a ridiculous stipulation, and even when that happens, the wrestling stays serious.

Deadpan deathmatches held inside a quirky, dark comedy universe. I can’t think of a simpler, less pretentious way of describing Deadly Extreme Wrestling.

Any deathmatch promotion worth its smelling salts has at least one tournament, some with stipulation-based rounds, though mostly just a series of single-elimination ultraviolent madness. There is a primitive enjoyment in watching other humans abuse their bodies for entertainment, and that’s what deathmatch wrestling is all about.

With a plethora of extremely brutal tourneys for fans to gorge themselves on, the question for any hypothetical new deathmatch promotion becomes: “How does our tournament stand out from the others?”

For comedy deathmatch promotion DEW (Deadly Extreme Wrestling), it’s by putting on the DEW Tournament of Mother F’N Murder, a one-night eight-competitor single-elimination tournament.

1. The Point of it All is the qualifier, four matches, each spotlighting a different sharp, pointy object that must be incorporated into the finish.

• A Tack Attack Match. A wrestler must achieve a pin or submission while their opponent is laid out on a bed of thumbtacks.

• A Killbab Match. To win this one, a wrestler needs to stab a handful of skewers into the head of their opponent; only then can they get a pinfall or submission.

• Born to be Wired Match. Wrestlers win this one by pin or submission after wrapping their opponent in barbed wire.

• A Blade Job Match. This one sees a wrestler win by pin or submission after using a straight razor on their opponent’s head.

1. Break on Through to the Finals is the semi-finals. Two matches, each involving breaking through a surface with your opponent’s body before going for the win.

• The Door to Violence Match. Wrestlers must send their opponent crashing through a door before going for a pin or submission. If they’re unsuccessful, they’ve got to get their opponent through another door before trying again.

• A Pane in the Ass Match. Similar to the previous match, wrestlers can only go for pins and submissions after putting each other through panes of glass.

1. The Final Final is the main event round, the end of the tournament, and the end of a life.

• Lights Out Last-One-Standing Match. Light tubes adorn the ring, and wrestlers are encouraged to use them to beat their opponent to death! Yes, to win this match, you must beat your opponent so severely that a ringside “doctor” declares them legally dead before reviving them.

Of course, DEW is a comedy promotion; as such, these excessively brutal bouts will derive humor from circumstantial absurdity and shock through grotesque displays of violence.

You may see a thumbtack match with a ten-thousand-tacks or a scarce ten. A barbed wire match where the barbed wire is so tangled and bunched up that it’s nearly impossible to wrap around someone. Small panes of glass and toothpicks “accidentally” purchased in place of skewers. Not every match needs a silly addition, and not every match will have one. It’s about mixing things up, keeping the crowd on their toes. Will this match be a cringe fest or a laugh riot? Or somewhere in the middle? That’s what ideally keeps the fans engaged.

If DEW were to exist, this would undoubtedly be a major show for them and a terrific debut concept. A show that would immediately set the tone of DEW, gory, goofy, and gratuitous.

Is this something fans would go for? Perhaps someday we’ll be able to find out.

Game Changer Wrestling’s Tournament of Survival 11 was held on June 6th, 2026, at the Showboat Resort in Atlantic City, NJ. TOS is one of—if not—GCW’s biggest events of the year.

Debuting in 2016, TOS has seen some intense, bloody battles, staking its claim as one of the premier deathmatch tournaments in the world of deathmatch wrestling. The reputation alone is enough to stoke the flames of fan excitement.

However, the hype surrounding the 11th iteration of TOS felt lacking, a sad sign of things to come. The weeks leading up to the show seemed under-promoted, with most competitor announcements unceremoniously dropped on social media. That in itself is a true shame since the eight TOS 11 participants were a fantastic mix of workers, all far more talented than this show suggested.

Deathmatch spectacle over ring psychology and storytelling will only take you so far. The pop from the pop of a light tube sees diminishing returns after the second match, and by the main event, a light tube shot gets the same reaction as a punch. This was a major issue of TOS 11, spectacle over substance, sizzle without steak.

Worse than the absence of any remnants of a story or the underutilization of the eight incredible workers working the show has got to be the egregious predictability of 2026’s Tournament of Survival.

A couple of moments stood out from the night of ultraviolent carnage, one pleasantly surprising, and the other just kinda meh.

The first round was serviceable, but a few alterations may have elevated it to a level fitting the perceived prestige of GCW’s signature tourney.

Viperess v “Death Wish” Anakin Murphy. The opener and weakest of the four first-round matches. A talent mismatch is where the fault was in this one. Both are tremendous workers who didn’t gel well, mainly due to a height discrepancy. Viperess’s shorter stature lessened the impact of one of Murphy’s best in-ring attributes, his selling, which in turn lessened her offense. Viperess won, the right and obvious call, seeing how over she’s gotten with the GCW crowd.

Mr. Danger v Dr. Redacted. The second match was a better-paced, better-paired match that ended up being utterly forgettable. It was a given that Mr. Danger was winning here; had he not won, things might’ve been more memorable, but ultimately would’ve been a bad move. Mr. Danger going over was the right call, just Dr. Redacted was the wrong opponent. Redacted is a sadistic surgeon, a macabre mad doctor who barely got to show off his sinister skills in this first-round contest.

Masashi Takeda v Jonathan Gresham. Much like those that came before, this was a predictable affair. Takeda went into the Deathmatch Hall of Fame later that evening, and there wasn’t a person in attendance who doubted he was getting the W over Gresham. Still, the two put on the second-best first-round match of the night, and one of the only matches that told any type of in-ring story, whether intentional or not. Gresham, not really a deathmatch worker, worked towards having a wrestling match with the deathmatch legend, and Takeda made him pay for it.

Nino Extremo v Lil Sicko. This was the dark horse. The best of round one. The two put on a high-spot showcase that perked up the crowd after the slower-paced previous match. Nino shone, winning over anyone unfamiliar with him beforehand. His victory was unexpected and welcome after the performance he put on. That’s not to take anything away from Lil Sicko; he just, unfortunately, for the crazy clown, this was not his match, it was Nino’s, and Nino made the most of it.

Despite Nino and Sicko having the strongest opener, the first round could’ve possibly been stronger by swapping Anakin Murphy and Lil Sicko. Viperess and Sicko could’ve leaned into the ultraviolence of it all. Lil Sicko has a rep for being a lil bit of a maniac, while Viperess has proven herself to be a tough-as-nails fighter who never backs down. The two would’ve set a dangerous tone for the rest of the tournament.

Even with Murphy, Nino would’ve been part of the best match on the card. If anything, he and “Death Wish” might’ve had a slightly better match thanks to Murphy’s selling and Nino’s high-risk intensity.

None of this helps the Mr. Dr. problem, but shifting their bout from second to third and letting it act as a cool-down match after Nino and Murphy may have helped it earn its place on the card.

The semi-finals held no shocking upsets or out-of-nowhere surprises, just exactly what fans were expecting. Mr. Danger beat Viperess, and Takeda put down Nino in what was not only the best semi-final match, but the best match of the whole dang-darn TOS.

The common feeling was that it was all going to come down to Danger and Takeda, which, of course, it did, and there was a split on who fans wanted to win. Though Mr. Danger seemed to be a favorite, many recognized the probability of a Takeda victory to accompany his Hall of Fame induction.

This was a mistake.

Masashi Takeda is already a legend; winning TOS doesn’t elevate him the way it would someone like a Mr. Danger or a Nino Extremo. In fact, the Hall of Famer would’ve been better used to put over Nino in the semi-finals, allowing for a Nino v Danger main event.

Mr. Danger deserved to be the tournament’s survivor. He’s more or less exclusive to GCW, and not so over with the fan base that he can’t be pushed.

For Nino, even losing in the finals would’ve been a major victory for the young upstart and instantly cemented him as one of the next big stars in GCW.

All in all, a fun little show that was a little more unremarkable than you’d want for one of your biggest events of a company’s calendar year.

Beginning his career a decade before, Heath trained in Florida under Boris Malenko before forming the masked tag team of The Blackhearts with Tom Nash in Canada’s Stampede Wrestling.

The two would eventually be joined by a manager, Heath’s future wife, and Nash’s then-wife, Luna Vachon.

With Luna in their corner, The Blackhearts would capture the Tri-State Wrestling Alliance tag team titles and the NWA Florida Tag Team Championship titles.

The team would split sometime between ‘93 and ‘94. Along with the dissolution of The Blackhearts was the end of Nash and Vachon’s marriage. But as a wise man once said, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning end.” And Luna and Heath would tie the knot on Halloween in 1994.

Clips from the ceremony even made it onto WWF television.

Heath would repackage himself, ditching the mask and adopting a gimmick inspired by the classic 1987 vampire flick The Lost Boys. And anyone who hasn’t seen it needs to stop what they are doing and go now and watch it. Don’t just watch it, though, track down a physical copy and buy it. People really need to support physical media. Besides, it’s a movie worth owning.

Now using the name The Vampire Warrior, Heath would work various promotions, including a stint in Memphis’s USWA, where he’d hold the USWA Heavyweight Championship.

In addition to his time with the USWA, The Vampire Warrior would appear for various NWA affiliates, Japan’s International Wrestling Association, and that little Philadelphia-based promotion we all affectionately refer to as E. C. F’N. W.

He’d even make a fair amount of pre-Gangrel WWF appearances, more often than not working as the masked Black Phantom.

As the Black Phantom, Heath would make it on WWF TV several times throughout ‘94 and ‘95, earning himself quite the impressive losing streak, doing the job for such industry icons as 1-2-3 Kid, Duke “The Dumpster” Droese, and Adam Bomb.

Then, in ‘96, Heath would again adorn the persona of Blackheart Destruction, re-teaming with Tom Nash as The Blackhearts for a run in Japan that would span into the summer of 1997.

From there, the Vampire Warrior spent some time in Puerto Rico and Japan with the World Wrestling Council and All Japan Pro Wrestling, respectively.

It’s been said that Bruce “Brother Love” Prichard and Vince “Pro Wrestling’s Anti-Christ, Bro” Russo were the driving forces behind The Vampire Warrior getting a coveted WWF contract.

He’d be given a new name (and yeah, that’s fine. Vampire Warrior isn’t what you’d call a badass name. It sounds more like the kind of lazy name you’d find in a Spawn comic), debuting on an episode of Sunday Night Heat, rechristened as Gangrel.

An odd choice, seeing that the name was already and still is trademarked by a tabletop role-playing game called Vampire: The Masquerade, where the name is used for a Vampire Clan.

This meant WWF would have to pay a license fee to use the name, and for some reason, they felt that was better than coming up with literally any other name they didn’t have to pay for.

You really have to wonder who went to bat so heavily for Gangrel. Like someone felt this name was so important that it was worth paying off a board game company that few people have ever heard of. As if the gimmick’s entire success was based on the name Gangrel alone. Which is ridiculous. Everyone knows Gangrel’s success was solely the result of his entrance.

A dark red light floods the arena. An ominous track pumps through the speakers. A ring of fire burns on the stage.

It is from that blazing circle that Gangrel would rise. Emerging from Hell itself, clutching a goblet of blood in his hands and wearing a puffy shirt that no doubt inspired a Seinfeld episode.

It was nightmare fuel. Not only was the atmosphere created by the entrance eerie, but Heath himself was downright frightening in the role—thanks partly to a set of legit fangs (he’d had his teeth filed down.)

The whole thing was topped with Gangrel standing on the ring apron, sipping from his goblet, and spitting blood into the air. (It’s where Triple H stole the whole spitting water thing from.)

Gangrel would feature prominently on WWF television in ‘98, entering into a feud with Edge that would also feature Edge’s former Kayfabe brother, Christian. This feud would ultimately lead to the birth of one of the most wickedly awesome stables ever. The Brood.

The Brood would go through two incarnations before its demise in 1999. The first and really only true Brood consisted of Gangrel, Edge, and Christian.

A second version of the group saw Edge and Christian replaced with Matt and Jeff Hardy. Though it didn’t have the same magic, it was ultimately a short-lived alliance.

However, the three would reunite ever so briefly in 2022 when Matt and Jeff saved Gangrel from a Young Bucks beating at an AEW show.

Heath wrapped up his run with WWF in 2000, officially being released from his contract in 2001. He’d make sporadic one-off appearances for the company over the years, even re-signing a development deal in ‘06 with the plan to debut him on the new WWECW brand.

Reports from the time had claimed WWE was looking to bring Gangrel back to partner with Kevin Thorn, a vampire character they were bringing up.

This never materialized, the reason being, according to some reports, that WWE Higher-ups were not happy with Heath’s weight.

Despite the return not coming to pass, the Vampire Warrior has continued sucking (Like sucking blood cause he’s a vampire, so it’s a good thing) all over the world, wrestling for countless independent promotions.

He also directed pornography. So, yeah, there’s that.

A song you’d theoretically play while theoretically unaliving yourself? A song to set the mood, to speak to the feelings that may have brought you to this oh-so-final act?

It probably sounds like a bit of a morbid idea, but for some, it could be comforting.

It’s not the same as the song you’d want played at your funeral. This is more personal. It’s not about your life, or who you were, but how you feel.

I have a suicide song.

I listen to it when the darkness grows overwhelming. I picture it playing over scenes of me taking the steps to enact my departure from earth.

I’ve played it many times. Twice over attempts that—for better or worse—failed.

A suicide song can be any song. For me, it’s Goodbye Stranger by Supertramp. I once broke down the song and why, in my eyes, it read like a coded suicide note. The perfect anthem to usher in the end of my film.

“It was an early morning yesterday, I was up before the dawn, and I really have enjoyed my stay, but I must be moving on.”

He’s up early to watch the sun rise, to get the most out of his last day on earth. He knows it hasn’t all been bad, and in fact, at times quite enjoyable, but he knows he will never find true happiness in this life and therefore must be moving on.

“Like a king without a castle, Like a queen without a throne I’m an early morning lover, And I must be moving on.”

He doesn’t really have anything left in life. What he did have is gone.

“Now I believe in what you say, is the undisputed truth, but I have to have things my own way, to keep me in my youth.”

Suicide is not the answer, everyone says it, and he knows it, and he believes it, but his mind is set. He’s stubborn and is going to do what he feels is best for him.

“Like a ship without an anchor, like a slave without a chain, Just the thought of those sweet ladies Sends a shiver through my veins.”

Again, he is referencing having nothing, perhaps the end of a relationship, or several relationships, which would explain the thought of those sweet ladies’ line. Either way, he is free.

“And I will go on shining. Shining like brand new. I’ll never look behind me. My troubles will be few.”

Even in death, he will survive, his spirit or memory or what have you. Once he leaves this world, though he can never look back, and it’s frightening, but soon his troubles will be all but gone.

“Goodbye stranger, it’s been nice. Hope you find your paradise. Tried to see your point of view, hope your dreams will all come true.”

The stranger is life and the people in his life. He owns no resentment and wishes the best to all those he leaves behind. He tried to live in this world, in polite society, tried to see their points of view, but it wasn’t for him.

“Goodbye, Mary, goodbye, Jane. Will we ever meet again? Feel no sorrow, feel no shame. Come tomorrow, feel no pain.”

Obvious drug reference aside, Mary and Jane could simply be women from his life. He asks if we will meet again, questioning if there is an afterlife. He doesn’t want them to feel bad or sorry for him because soon all his pain will be gone.

“Now some they do and some they don’t, and some you just can’t tell, and some they will and some they won’t, with some it’s just as well.”

Some people take their lives, some don’t. Some people you can’t tell if they are truly living or not, but for some, suicide is the right choice, for some, it’s just as well.

“You can laugh at my behavior, that’ll never bother me, say the devil is my savior, but I don’t pay no heed.”

Think what you want about his actions, his decisions, he’s a coward, a quitter, he’ll burn in hell. It doesn’t matter to him. He doesn’t care.

For me, this song has always summed up how I feel when staring at the end.Will it play when I die? If it happens at my own hand, most definitely. Otherwise, I sincerely hope so. Because when it comes down to it, it’s not really a suicide song. It’s not even a death song. It’s the closing credits of your life, and I think I want that to reflect the emotional journey rather than the surface one.

Of all the secret, not-so-secret societies, the Sea Carvers were certainly one. Perhaps not the most well-known of them, but they were among the strangest, gathering several times a year at a massive compound hidden away from the wider world on a private island off the coast of Nantucket. Exactly what went down at the Elysium Gardens remained a closely guarded mystery to all but the Sea Carvers themselves. Their members included some of the richest—and therefore most powerful and influential—men alive.

Women were not permitted; superstition said they were bad luck on the water, and superstition and tradition went hand in hand for Sea Carvers. Some were all for the rituals, while others found them silly but worth tolerating for the valuable connections membership afforded. Though all could agree that ragers were a major selling point. There truly wasn’t any party like a Sea Carver party because a Sea Carver party was one of endless drug-fueled homoerotic debauchery and even more homoerotic human sacrifices.

In his younger years, the former U.S. President, codenamed: Tumbleweed, loved the Sea Carver gatherings more than any of the other secret societies’, especially the Sea Carvers’ Memorial Day Weekend Meditation and Mindfulness Meet. But that was then. His time in office had changed him. No longer was he the slow-witted, bumbling bumpkin who could barely string a coherent sentence together, and instead, he had become a slow-witted, bumbling bumpkin who kept his mouth shut, remaining firmly out of the public eye. At seventy-two, Tumbleweed wanted nothing more than to be left alone on his ranch with his emus, drinking whiskey, smoking weed, and listening to Ween. But sometimes appearances are important (making and maintaining them), and so Tumbleweed allowed himself to be talked into attending. He’d stop participating in all the secret societies about ten years after his last term as Commander-in-Chief. He didn’t see the point. After a while, it just seemed like a waste of time. He wasn’t a player anymore, and that was fine.

He did enjoy the drugs. A buffet of narcotics, served alongside a buffet of mostly seafood. Cocaine and crab legs. A Sea Carver staple for Tumbleweed. He’d had two helpings and was readying for a third when he overheard something at the bar. He wasn’t sure who the men were; like everyone there, their faces were hidden behind masks that were designed to resemble some sort of fishman. Aside from the masks, the men were naked; many were. Few, like Tumbleweed, kept their blue and green robes on.

The naked men were talking about the sitting president, which in itself held no interest for Tumbleweed. It was what that president was allegedly considering that made Tumbleweed drink his drink at the bar instead of on the way to another plate of crab and coke.

“Did you hear what fearless leader is thinking about doing now?” one of the two said more than he asked.

“You’d have to be more specific. He’s been thinking and doing a lot of unbelievable shit,” replied the other, who by all accounts had the far more attractive body.

“Ever hear of Sunny Days?”

“Is that a show? Or band?”

“It’s the project that’s gonna fuck us all to fuck.”

“How bad can it be? Sounds like some tree-hugging nonsense.”

“Well, it ain’t. 43 started it late in his first term before abandoning it not long after.”

“What the hell was it?”

“A weapon. Endgame-level shit. Mark my words, they get this going, we’re all dead.”

“Fucking hell...”

“Yeah. So, you want to blow me?”

“Sure.”

And with that, the men walked off to find a comfortable spot for fellatio. Tumbleweed stayed put, finishing his drink, trying to remember what exactly Sunny Days was, and why he canceled it.

He had another drink, but couldn’t connect Sunny Days to anything in his memory, so he got his plate of coke and crab before settling in to observe the nightly sacrifice.

Each night of the Sea Carvers’ Memorial Day Weekend Meditation and Mindfulness Meet featured a sacrifice. Tumbleweed didn’t care to witness it, but felt it would’ve been rude not to listen to the preamble.

The first night sacrifice was always meh. Some decent-looking guy from a low-income area who thought he’d scored a major job, one that would set him and his family up for life. In reality, he was just meat for the grinder. Stripped naked with tiny hooks piercing his flesh, suspending him above the sacrificial altar.

The Big Fish—a name assigned to the head Sea Carver—stood beside the dangling nude man and addressed his fellow members.

“Tonight we celebrate the beginning of a great sacred season,” began the Big Fish. “The season of sun is upon us, and with it comes its many bitching parties!”

The drunken, stoned, and horny Sea Carvers cheered in response. They cheered even louder for the Big Fish’s unsheathing of twelve inches of phallic-shaped steel, presumably as part of the ritual. However, only members know for sure.

Crowdfunding is being discussed. Though that’s nothing new. What is new is the desired goal. The financial one that is. What would have been a $100,000 goal may now be a $25,000 one. The budgetary shift is a result of a concept shift.

What was conceived as a 13-episode “season” is being retooled as a 1 night event. A pilot of sorts. A 16-competitor, 4-round tournament. The Maximum Effort!

ACW: The Maximum Effort Tournament pushes competitors to their absolute limits, testing them across a range of match types.

1. The Blitz (Speed Round): The first round consists of 8 matches, each with a 90-second time limit. One fall to a finish, standard wrestling rules apply (e.g., countouts, DQs). In the event of a Time Limit Draw, a winner is decided by a panel of (kayfabe) judges.

2. The Brawl (Hardcore Matches): Anything goes in round 2, with 4 hardcore rules matches. To keep things fresh, the stipulations for each match in this round would be different (e.g., tables match, stretcher match, falls count anywhere, etc.).

3. The Breaking Point (Submission): The semi-finals are made up of submission matches, forcing wrestlers to earn a victory by causing their opponents to tap out.

4. The Final Showdown (Last-Wrestler Standing): The final round sees the final two wrestlers go head-to-head in a last-wrestler-standing match. The only rule is to win, and the only way to win is to beat the other person so bad they can’t get back to their feet before the count of 10.

As it stands, this is a rough outline of what ACW’s launch show could potentially look like.

The goal is to still be able to tell a complete story, one that leaves room to tell more in the future. It’s a lot like writing a comic book one-shot. A single issue story that functions as its own thing, but could also lead to more.

The Maximum Effort would be an ACW one-shot. If well-received, more shows could and would likely follow, with the ultimate goal of going weekly on some streaming platform or another.

Instead of a weekly show, ACW could run monthly or bi-monthly shows as long as the core principles of ACW are upheld, telling a story and doing so with a roster mainly made up of women.

Telling a long-form story on the independent scene is difficult, but not impossible. It just takes a little more care and forethought. It becomes less about character and more about plot. That’s not to say character doesn’t matter, just that the characters serve the story rather than the story serving the characters.

What this would undoubtedly look like is a series of tournaments and shows built around gimmick matches—Royal Rumble, Survivor Series, War Games-style matches. Shows where the main story is always the story of ACW and its battle to stake a claim in the wrestling world.

Of course, none of that is set in stone. The Maximum Effort is not set in stone, nor is a Kickstarter. At the moment, it’s all just theoretical.

Wrestling and Kickstarter don’t have the best of histories. While there have been some promotions that’ve launched campaigns in hopes of raising the funds to put on shows or produce TV, though few have been successful. With the most successful, most likely being Jeff Katz’s Wrestling Retribution Project.

$100,480 was raised via Kickstarter to produce the first season of WRP. The shows were filmed in LA, but never released, not online or on physical media. Backers never received the promised rewards, aside from tickets to the shows.

The Jeff Katz WRP debacle may have played a hand in the lack of wrestling promotions on crowdfunding, and that’s a shame. Wrestling and crowdfunding could make a pretty good tag team. Wrestling fans love to peek behind the curtain, and crowdfunding lets them do exactly that, all while directly supporting a promotion that they actually want to watch.

Backing a crowdfunding campaign isn’t an investment; there are no financial returns, rather a pre-ordering of the product itself and other merch, perks, and experiences.

For films, this might mean a ticket to the premiere, a copy of the film on physical media, a prop, or a walk-on. A comic book might offer original art and signed copies of the printed book. It’s all really only limited by the creators’ imaginations.

With a wrestling promotion, there are some obvious rewards to offer. Tickets being the most obvious. Access to a live-stream or early download of the show. Meet and greets. T-shirts, posters, and other merch, some of it signed, some of it one of a kind. Outside of that, we’d have to brainstorm and see if there is anything that would truly spark a fan’s desire.

Reaching the fans is a challenge. Perhaps one of the biggest ones a crowdfunding campaign faces. The best idea and coolest rewards don’t amount to a hill of beans if nobody knows it’s out there.

Attitude Championship Wrestling is on Instagram and Twitter (X), but these accounts haven’t been kept up with. That would need to change before any crowdfunding could be launched.

For ACW, there is a path forward. Time will tell if that path is crowdfunding. If it is, we can only hope there are enough fans who find us and share our Attitude towards professional wrestling.

Of today’s crop of wrestlers, there isn’t anyone at that level of notoriety, with a few minor exceptions (Brock, maybe Cody, and Roman). That’s not to say that the potential isn’t there.

It is.

There are definitely workers today with the potential to become legitimate superstars. But milk has potential. (It could be used to bake a cake, to dunk cookies, or to enjoy a bowl of cereal.)

Until it expires.

Everything has a shelf life.

There have been many talents over the years left to expire in the forgotten back of the metaphorical refrigerator of pro wrestling. There are generational superstars out there, plying their trade in school gyms and community centers, waiting for the opportunity to move up and break out.

A list could be compiled spotlighting the wrestlers with the most potential to be wrestling for the coming generations, but someone else can do that. We’re going to spotlight the only one that matters: the “Boujhettoest Baddie,” HollyHood Haley J.

First gaining attention in the 2023 Netflix docuseries Wrestlers, Haley instantly captivated audiences with her confidence, humor, determination, and swagger. She is a second-generation wrestler whose mother, Amazing Maria, is still active on the scene today.

After her time on Wrestlers, Haley J was offered a developmental deal with WWE (a no-brainer, really); however, by her own admission, she was unable to get medical clearance in time, and the offer expired (like that damn milk). This didn’t stop her. HollyHood has spent the years since the Netflix doc making herself one of the most valuable names in independent wrestling. Holding titles and taking part in major storylines for various promotions throughout the U.S., Haley J consistently proves she has all the makings of an icon.

Up until early this year, I was developing a wrestling promotion. It began as a vehicle for former model Cindy Margolis, but when she became unavailable, the idea shifted to crowdfunding. Ultimately, things fell apart, and for the time being, the project is dormant—but when it was active, Haley J was at the top of our list to contact.

The promotion was meant to focus on women, and I saw HollyHood as someone who could elevate the promotion into the mainstream while using it as a stage to catapult herself. Of course, the whole company wouldn’t have been built around her. I had a wish list of talent that I felt would have made the show a must-watch, but Haley J was at the top of that list.

I saw her as a tweener. She has an attitude that is endearing yet grating. Fans love her, or they love to hate her, and she’s very apt at making them do both.

On the mic, she’s a natural: fast, funny, and fierce. You believe what she says. She understands her gimmick. She gets the business. With the right booking and talent to work with, Haley J could, and honestly should, be a household name—a megastar who pulls eyes not only to herself, but to all of wrestling.

Whether she ends up in WWE, AEW, or some upstart that ends up crowdfunding (I’m a glass-half-full type) is irrelevant; what will matter is how she’s presented and how she’s booked. She needs to be a big deal even before the audience knows she is one. She needs to come out with that energy that says, “I don’t belong here; I’m better than here. Get on my level.” Then she needs to say it on the mic.

The beauty of the HollyHood gimmick is that, when analyzed as a character, you get something rich and layered. Step back from the world of grapples and body slams and view HollyHood Haley J as a character in film or TV.

She was raised in the business, but not in the limelight; not in the big arenas and world-spanning tours, but in the dingy outlaw indies where her mother wrestled deathmatches. Growing up wasn’t easy; some may say she was “white trash,” low-class, and one paycheck from being out on her ass. This is why she wears the ego, the attitude, and the persona that is HollyHood. She embraces her ghetto and makes it fabulous, working what she’s got, but underneath it is still just a scared little girl wanting to be silly and loved.

Okay, so I may have taken liberties, but that’s the character I draw from the gimmick Haley J portrays. It paints a more complete picture of her and opens up more possibilities for angles and fan connection.

She can always play a heel, but underneath there will always be a babyface who doesn’t know how to be anything other than aggressive. Always on guard. Always ready for a fight. Beneath the ego and attitude is a heart of gold; she might be a bitch, but she’s not a villain.

The complexity Haley J has already built into the HollyHood gimmick is frankly impressive. It’s the kind of relic thought left with the Attitude Era.

HollyHood Haley J is a star. She knows it. It’s all a matter of waiting for everyone else to figure it out.

And when they do, hopefully, whoever they are, they don’t drop the ball, because wrestling needs someone like Haley J to make it all real again, damn it.

The current creative direction of WWE leaves much to be desired; they aren’t exactly showing the kind of imagination required to make Lucha Underground work.

LU debuted in 2014 on the El Rey Network, where it ran for four seasons. Unlike most wrestling promotions, LU asked its audience to suspend their disbelief the same way they would for a sci-fi or dark fantasy show. This wasn’t just wrestling; this was a reality of its own.

The world of Lucha Underground operated on its own logic, one where spacemen and dragons took human form, donning masks to compete in-ring, where ancient stones controlled gods of death, and undercover cops met their end in backstage segments.

A genre-blending, grindhouse aesthetic was a vital component in the cult success of Lucha Underground, an aesthetic WWE and TKO will most likely be unable to reproduce.

For years, WWE has valued flashy presentation, atmosphere, and vibes. They want things to look sleek and polished with softened edges and a rose-tinted filter. Everything needs to look as perfect and manufactured as possible. WWE shows all look and feel the same, that is to say, boring, uninspired, and lacking personality.

A WWE-produced Lucha Underground would not be Lucha Underground. Though it could end up being WWECW 2.0, which isn’t really an exciting prospect for most.

The probable scenario is that LU would be used to bridge the gap between U.S. fans and AAA (the Mexican wrestling promotion, not the roadside assistance people), a company WWE purchased in 2025. WWE could, in theory, utilize the LU brand to introduce a wider audience to WWE’s brand of lucha libre, possibly even using LU as a AAA development or vice versa.

What is unlikely to happen is for WWE to relaunch Lucha Underground as its own thing. A standalone company existing in a parallel reality where some things are the same while others are vastly different. Although LU could be the perfect place for workers like Bravo Americano, Danhausen, Dragon Lee, El Grande Americano, Mr. Iguana, and, of course, Rey Fénix and Pentagón Jr, who were both a part of the original LU run.

Lucha Underground could become WWE’s island of misfit toys. A place to experiment with gimmicks, match types, and storylines they wouldn’t normally do on the main shows. If they lean into the serialized, exploitation-filled nature at the heart of LU, WWE might pull off something they haven’t in a long while—please the fans.

Game Changer Wrestling offers laughs here and there, but it’s seasoning, not the flavor. Much like decent tentacle porn, fans who want chuckles with their chaos have to look to the east, and a little-known country called Japan. It’s there you’ll find Dramatic Dream Team Pro Wrestling, a promotion built on humor and topped by talent.

DDT-Pro is far out. A wild, bizarre, violent variety show.

But ultimately not a deathmatch promotion.

The idea of comedy deathmatches has legs as long as the right talent is booked, the angles are clever, and the matches are creative.

Long-term stability is never guaranteed, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth thinking about.

First things first. Every wrestling promotion needs one thing above all else. A name. A catchy name that sounds good when said as just three letters. Something like Deadly Extreme Wrestling. DEW. Do the DEW! (That’s not taken, right?)

Ideally, the name should sound serious and yet corny. Like something a sixteen-year-old would think sounded edgy and cool.

On the surface, DEW presents as a serious, outlaw promotion, going to extremes that no one else has the balls to. However, the reality is one of campy buffoonery.

DEW wouldn’t be running weekly TV or touring nationally (not at first). Though monthly shows in and around a city like Philadelphia, PA, could definitely work for the first couple of years.

The City of Brotherly Love is a cruel, uncaring one, but if you manage to win them over, you’ve got diehards for life. Comedy and deathmatch wrestling already have a history with the nation’s first capital, with companies like CZW, Chikara, and, of course, ECW making names for themselves there.

To do it right, DEW’s debut show would need to be outrageous inside the ring and out. The venue couldn’t be anything you’d expect. No school gymnasiums, VFW, minor league baseball stadium, no, DEW would need to run drive-in movie theaters, nightclubs, and campgrounds, just anywhere you wouldn’t normally see wrestling.

Naming the inaugural show is almost as important as naming the company. Combat Zone Wrestling had Opening Night in 1999. Ring of Honor debuted The Era of Honor Begins in 2002. In 2015, Jersey Championship Wrestling became Game Changer Wrestling when they hosted the first Nick Gage Invitational Ultraviolent Tournament.

DEW would emerge on the scene with something like: Deadly Extreme Wrestling: The First Cut is the Deepest. An eight-match card filled with blood and gut-busting laughs.

Like the pilot episode of a series, the first show of a promotion needs to set the tone, establish the rules of the universe, and most importantly, hook the audience.

How could DEW pull something like that off? - Maybe by putting on something like this...

DEADLY EXTREME WRESTLING

The First Cut is the Deepest

1. KJ Orso v Gringo Loco (Luchagore Match): Both bring a high energy to the ring. Just different types. Loco is a veteran with one foot in deathmatch and the other in Lucha, while Orso is young, hungry, and brash. Having these two open would definitely get the crowd on their feet.

   

   .What makes it a Luchagore match? Not much really. It’s a two-out-of-three-falls match with no count-outs (duh) and elevated platforms such as scaffolding for extra high spots. The match needs to be fast, with the two exchanging the first two falls quickly before a final flurry of flips and twists, culminating with Orso stealing the win

   

2. Anthony Gangone v Christian Rocco: This is a palate-cleanser match. It’s here to aid the crowd in a controlled come-down after the spot fest opener. Rocco and Gangone are competent workers with big personalities.

   

   The two could easily put on a fun and serviceable match with the right levels of humor and athleticism. Have Rocco work babyface and give a clean win to Gangone.

   

3. Jimmy Lloyd v Tommy Trainwreck (A Breaking Glass & Kicking Ass Deathmatch): Lighttubes. Panes of glass. Lightbulbs. Drinkware. Anything and everything glass and shatterable. These are two big, bad men who are more than comfortable putting on big, bad brawls

   

   The humor here lies in the glass. Light tubes fastened with light bulbs to create phalluses, picture frames containing offensive memes, and panes of glass defaced with handwritten obscenities from fans before the show. Of the two, Lloyd feels like the more natural face, with Trainwreck giving strong monster heel vibes. In theory, a win for Jimmy Lloyd here would pop the crowd big, especially after the two previous heel victories.

   

4. Luigi Primo v Ray Jaz: Italian stereotypes abound in this battle of the Guidos. Jaz may not be strictly a comedy wrestler, but it’s not out of his wheelhouse. Primo, on the other hand, has combined hip tossing with dough tossing to establish himself as one of the top comedic acts on the scene.

   

   Exaggerated gestures and delicious weapons, this could be a tasty (Heh. See what I did there?) bit of levity from the excessive bloodshed to come. Primo would get the win, but not without some pizza shenanigans

   

5. Anakin Murphy v Ryan O’Neill v Juni Underwood v Terry Yaki v Matt Quay v Myles Hawkins (Six-Man Musical Chair Chaos Match): Six competitors wrestle to the music. Chairs are optional but strongly encouraged. This would be an elimination match where pinfalls can only be achieved during pauses in the music.

   Laid out properly, this could be a viral moment for DEW. The frenzied silliness of it all would also be a great spotlight for the six young workers. While all are worthy of taking the W, Anakin Murphy would walk away the victor after last eliminating Terry Yaki.

6. Dr. Redacted v SLADE (SSS Death and Resurrection Match): The Sss are obviously for scalpels, stretchers, and syringes. A sadistic, surgical-themed slaughter for two men known for salaciously sacrificing their bodies in the name of wrestling. The resurrection part comes in at the finish, where winning means beating your opponent so badly that a defibrillator is required to bring them back to the world of the living.

   

   A true Deathmatch, if there ever was one. Playing up a campy mad doctor, like something out of a B-level slasher flick, would allow Dr. Redacted to be the perfect heel for this match type. Besides, SLADE already has a strange likability that makes fans cheer him, and it’ll make fans hate Redacted all the more when he defeats him.

   

7. Sam Stackhouse v Mickie Knuckles: The penultimate match of the evening would begin with an in-ring promo. A promo from Sam Stackhouse, going under the name “Sexy” Sam Stackhouse, he’d issue an open challenge to any woman in the back or the crowd. If they win, they get the honor of marrying him. It needs to be a mean-spirited promo that drips with ignorant toxic masculinity.

   

   Mickie Knuckles is a legend in the deathmatch scene, and having her answer the challenge will instantly let fans know “sexy” Sam is in for a bad night. Mickie would have to get her own mic time to let Stackhouse know that after she beats his ass, she’s not going to marry him but bury him. Stackhouse has to be the bumbling heel, only winning through opportunistic means

   

   .

8. Mr. Danger v Otis Cogar (A Blade Job Ladder Deathmatch): Above the ring, a straight razor hangs, waiting to be yanked down and put to work on the forehead of either Cogar or Danger. These men represent the present and future of deathmatch wrestling. They’re charismatic workers with the ability to connect with fans. Cogar as a heel. Danger as a face. Under normal circumstances, a ladder match between these two has the potential of being a bloody spectacle of shock and awe. But that’s not really how things would pan out in DEW. It should quickly become evident after the first few ladders are brought into the match that none of them are tall enough to reach the blade.

   

   From there, much of the match would consist of the men beating each other to bloody pulps while trying to find ways to reach the straight razor and win the match. They’d jump for the blade, use the scaffolding around ringside, climb off each other’s shoulders, but always failing. It would be Cogar’s brother, Atticus Cogar, who’d arrive with salvation, a ladder tall enough, albeit way taller than necessary. Despite the two-on-one, Mr. Danger would send the fans home happy, slicing the Cogar brothers for a big W.

   

That’s just a rough outline of what Deadly Extreme Wrestling could look like. More of a thought experiment than a legit pitch, but there is potential to develop further.

What would the DEW title picture look like?

There’d be a world title. A Deadly Extreme Wrestling Championship Title.

Then you’d have the DEW Bloodthirsty Psycho Violent Championship Title. A belt exclusive to deathmatches.

You’d, of course, have tag titles, but also the Four-or-More Championship Titles, belts defended in matches between teams of four or more people.

And over time, more titles and ridiculous match types could be dreamt up.

Matches like:

Lego(s) Weapons Matches where swords, axes, clubs, and even tables could all be made from Legos.

A Dog-Harness Match where wrestlers are joined by chest harnesses.

Barbed wire bull rope matches.

Even Exploding Bubblewrap Deathmatches, where mild explosives are heavily wrapped in sheets of bubblewrap.

The possibilities for overly violent cartoony wrestling are limited only to the imagination of those involved.

Would DEW work?

Would DEW The First Cut is the Deepest be a worthwhile show?

These are questions for others to answer, as my opinion may be biased.

One thing that doesn’t get brought up all that often is his acting stint. Particularly, his role in the 2018 flick Kill Teaser—a film I actually wrote the first draft of. (But that’s a whole other story.)

I had no involvement with the story after the first draft, and while much of my script remained intact, there were some odd changes here and there.

One of those was the replacement of a character called SCENE KID with BISEXUAL GOTH, a role Will Wood would play.

This is how I became aware of Mr. Wood’s existence. His time on screen seemed to be the one shining light audiences found in the finished film.

From what I’ve managed to learn, Will Wood doesn’t talk much about his Kill Teaser appearance. With the negative reception, it’s understandable. There is a heavy focus on sexual abuse in the script, and the intended message of its use did not translate to the final film, leaving a bad taste in the mouths of many. And while that was partly the goal of the film, there are different kinds of bad tastes, and this was not the good kind.

I wonder what drew him to the project in the first place. Which version of the script he got? Who made the change from Scene Kid to Bisexual Goth, and why?

The last bit sticks in my craw a bit (but I play it cool.) The character’s sexuality was explicitly left out because I felt it was irrelevant to the scene. Neither character needed to wear a label; sexuality was meant to be presented as fluid.

The scene I wrote was meant to mimic an awkward first date, just one with two regular dudes.

Though someone decided Bisexual Goth needed to wear a dress and a cute bob cut wig, to, I guess, really drive home that this character had some sugar in their tank.

My concept was to remove the overt idea of sexuality so as to underscore that the attempted assault was not about arousal but power. All this would have (in theory) added to what I saw as the overall themes of the story.

There is something almost tragically humorous about how campy and off-point the entire thing ended up being—not good enough to be analyzed, and not bad enough to be good.

Then again, with the right presentation, perhaps Kill Teaser could find a home in the world of midnight screenings. Let comedians riff over the film. Host Q&As with anyone who was involved in the making and is willing to make that knowledge public. Laugh at the bad, showcase the mess, and ponder what could’ve been.

Though technically, CZW came into existence the previous year as a school. Their first official show, CZW Opening Night, was held in Mantua, New Jersey, on February 13th, 1999.

That first class of CZW Dojo graduates filled out much of that first card.

They’d follow Opening Night with CZW The Staple Gun the next month, a show that featured a main event staple gun ladder match for the CZW World Heavyweight Title.

Branding themselves as Ultraviolent, CZW would spend the next couple of years redefining what American wrestling fans thought of as hardcore, priming the promotion to fill the void left by ECW’s 2001 demise.

Brutal, unapologetic, controversial, and still, CZW persists, surviving into the 2020s, though not always thriving.

It’s been many trips around the sun since CZW held the admiration of fans. For many, the company’s glory days are long dead and buried, with Game Changer Wrestling now sitting atop the Deathmatch mountain.

CZW’s decline has not been its defeat. Defiantly under current owner, DJ Hyde, the promotion fights on. Searching to reclaim their identity in the ever-evolving landscape of pro wrestling. Some fans have become cautiously optimistic about the future of Combat Zone.

There is hope, with some fairly favorable showing in the early half of 2026, CZW is putting forth the effort, but in the end, will it matter? Is it too late? Has CZW’s time come and gone?

The answers to these depend on your opinion of CZW. Though for many, it seems they’ve moved on from the Combat Zone, finding their fix with Game Changer Wrestling.

It could be argued (rather successfully, I’d think) that GCW did what CZW did, but better.

Brett Lauderdale and Danny Demanto transformed Jersey Championship Wrestling into Game Changer Wrestling after purchasing the company in 2015. They’d build their name on spectacle, putting on several tournaments, experimenting with sub-brands, and organizing the biggest event of WrestleMania weekend, The Collective—a series of shows produced by various independent promotions from around the globe.

Game Changers in more than name, GCW has elevated and evolved not only Deathmatch wrestling, but Independent wrestling as a whole. But where does that leave CZW? Is there a place for the old guard in the new world?

Short answer, yes with an if.

Long answer, no with a but.

One of CZW’s greatest strengths happens to be one of their greatest flaws.

Legacy.

With nearly two decades under their belt, CZW has history—not all of it good, but it’s there, and their fans know it (the few they still have.) A total rebranding could risk damaging the perceived prestige the company has accumulated, leaving DJ Hyde with quite a predicament.

How to grow back up without further shrinking the already shrunken fanbase?

Competing with GCW is out of the question, at least for the foreseeable future. CZW first needs to reestablish itself as a worthy contender, and they can’t do that by relying on reputation alone. Some fences may need to be swung for.

Like with most things, there are actually a few roads that could be taken. The least likely of which would be the silliest of them. Rebranding Combat Zone Wrestling into a Comedy Deathmatch promotion.

This isn’t to say they change their name to Comedy Zone Wrestling or just become a joke (more so than they may already be), but rather the idea of leaning into the absurd. Booking wrestlers with goofy gimmicks, showcasing matches with ridiculous stipulations, and crafting fun, wild moments rather than shocking, controversial ones.

Surely, this would alienate much of their remaining fans, but if not with the right care and thinking, it could relaunch CZW as a viral sensation.

The safer path would be to go hard in the other direction. Make CZW as serious as humanly possible. Become the premier athletic Deathmatch promotion. Keep track of the wins and losses of talent who appear on shows. Create and clearly define divisions around the various championships. Let GCW be the spectacle, and CZW can be the sport.

The foundation is there. CZW’s past has misses, but there are hits. Talent who ascended from CZW to larger stages like those of AEW and WWE. A period of critical and fan-praised shows. The pedigree is there. The potential is astronomical. The execution, however, is crucial, and as it stands, CZW is still missing the mark ever-so-slightly.

With focus and discipline, Combat Zone Wrestling may have a chance at carving out a new niche for itself in the grander scope of wrestling. Build to your Deathmatches. Construct a story that transcends the workers; they’re athletes, there to compete in the world, and the world is the story.

That story can be anything DJ Hyde decides.

There are several other avenues to a new CZW. Some that require less tweaking than others. It’s not about admitting failure, but after nearly thirty years on the scene, a fresh coat of paint and a slightly new identity can be the difference between relevance and laughingstock.

The Shaggy Dog is a 2006 apparent family comedy from Walt Disney Studios starring Tim Allen. A remake of the 1959 Disney production. Both of which are pseud adaptations of a 1923 novel titled, you guessed it, The Hound of Florence.

The common thread of these stories seems to be that a human male is transformed for one reason or another into, as the title (of at least two) suggests, a shaggy dog. At a brief glance, Wikipedia informs us that The Shaggy Dog follows Tim Allen as Dave Douglas, a deputy district attorney in Los Angeles.

After he is bitten by a genetically mutated dog (he’s maybe representing at trial?), he himself is transformed into a canine.

Full disclosure, I have not seen The Shaggy Dog or The Shaggy Dog. Nor have I read the book, The Hound of Florence. But based on the little I’ve read online, I feel I can safely say the film’s main issue lies with its tone.

This goes for all versions. Though we’re focusing on the 2006 film and the tale of a deputy district attorney.

If the filmmakers had decided to shift tone from a family comedy to supernatural horror, the film may have grossed much more than $87 million at the box office.

It would not be that difficult to take the base concept of a scummy lawyer becoming a dog and make it a dark, twisted gore fest. Just swap out whatever animal testing nonsense for a high-profile serial killer trial, and then you have a movie that looks a little like this...

Deputy District Attorney Dave Douglas is prosecuting the Night Creeper, an infamous, devil-worshiping serial killer who has been terrorizing Los Angeles County.

The case has taken a toll on Douglas, causing strain between him and his family. Frustrated, reaching the end of his rope, Douglas breaks several laws when he goes to have a one-on-one with the Night Creeper.

Douglas tries to get the killer to confess. But the Night Creeper simply taunts him, revealing personal information about his wife and children.

Their interaction ends with the Night Creeper cursing Douglas, or maybe he bites him. Either way, Dave Douglas leaves that night cursed to be a shaggy dog of satan.

The next day, Douglas begins his transformation into a dog. His family, of course, adopts Dog-Douglas, while not caring all that much about where human Douglas has gone.

Over the next few days, Dog-Douglas finds himself experiencing a primal urge for blood. Going all Cujo, Dog-Douglas brutally murders his daughter’s boyfriend, his son’s bully, and the man trying to fuck his wife.

The more he kills, the more animal he becomes. Soon, unable to control his murderous rage, his vicious attacks spread all over the county, a little more than resembling those of the Night Creeper.

Meanwhile, the Douglas children, fueled by the justified suspicions of Dave’s son, Josh, begin following their new shaggy dog.

Eventually, Josh and his sister Carly piece together what’s happened. Figuring out that not only is their new dog a mass murderer, but he is also their father.

In the end, Dave’s children are unable to save him, with Carly forced to put him down, but not before he rips his wife’s throat out.

In a twist, Dog-Douglas’s murders provide reasonable doubt, allowing the Night Creeper to go free and continue his sinister, satanic work.

Even if that were the film, I’d still have to rate it a two out of five. Criticizing the casting of alleged funnyman Tim Allen. As well as a weak plot requiring an extensive suspension of disbelief.

It tries to be more intelligent than it is by being a Werewolf movie without the werewolves. There are better killer canine flicks out there, but that’s not to say The Shaggy Dog isn’t worth a rent.

Russo’s right, and yet still so incredibly wrong.
Yeah, a world championship title is a prop, but that doesn’t make it meaningless. Outside of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Infinity Gauntlet holds no reality-breaking powers; it’s just a bulky glove. In the MCU, though? It is a God-level weapon, something to be feared and coveted, the driving threat at the heart of multiple movies across a decade. In the story of the MCU, the Infinity Gauntlet mattered because, within the story, it was real. That’s why the creators at Marvel addressed, and filled (sort of) the plot hole involving the Gauntlet appearing in Odin’s Trophy room back in Thor. Basically, what happened (for those who may not know), the Infinity Gauntlet appears in the background of a scene in Thor, which led many fans to anticipate Thanos leading a massive siege on Asgard to retrieve the aforementioned Gauntlet. This didn’t happen. Instead, a throwaway line in a later Thor flick revealed Odin’s Gauntlet to be fake.
The quality of that explanation is debatable, but what’s not debatable is that it is an in-universe explanation. An in-story fix to a real-world slip.

They didn’t tell the fans, “It’s a movie, it doesn’t matter, the Gauntlet is just a prop.” They addressed and resolved it. Fans know it’s not real, that’s not the point. The point is to be entertained, and to do that they must at times suspend disbelief—that’s their job as an audience. The job of the creators is to maintain that disbelief by adhering to the rules of the story they’re constructing. That means that when someone wins your world championship title and almost immediately turns around and drops it, in story, it should be treated as a sign of disrespect.

Matt Cardona winning the JCW World Title should’ve felt huge, but the knowledge of his recent return to “New York” casts a shadow over the moment. (The overbooking of his win didn’t help with that, but that’s a whole other issue.) His winning and subsequent dropping of the JCW Lunacy World Title quietly says, “This belt doesn’t matter.” And if the belt doesn’t matter, then why does any of it matter? Why are the wrestlers there if not for the titles? They can’t all be avenging personal grudges or chasing the fame and glory that JCW brings.

This is a major flaw in Russo’s creative mindset; he assumes that because it is all “fake” that nothing outside of the reaction matters, but that is not how storytelling works. If you want an audience to care about what you’re doing, to get invested in your characters and stories, then you damn well better care and be invested in them as a creator.

While either version of Stephen King’s It would suffice (considering each is split into two parts.) But those would be lazy and uninspiring picks. So, here are alternative pairings of cinematic clowning carnage:

You Can’t Spell Slaughter Without Laughter

Two flicks that lean less into horror and more into comedy but deliver the goods nonetheless. This is a fantastic party pairing. They’re off-beat enough to satisfy the cult-flick crowd. While being silly enough to please any squares in the room. Gather some friends. Get some grub. And have a good time.

Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1988)

The title says it all. Killer Klowns from Outer Space are on the loose. Rampaging through small-town America. Helmed by SFX masters, The Chiodo Brothers, Killer Klowns has gone from cult classic to Hot Topic shelves, beloved by multiple generations of film fans.

Killjoy (2000)

The same year that damn Leprechaun popped up in the hood, writer Carl Washington and director Craig Ross were bringing their demonic jester to life. Killjoy is the age-old tale of a group of young gangsters stalked and terrorized by a black magic-fueled demon clown. The first in a franchise, totaling six films.

Tears of a Clown

There is something oddly appealing about the “Sad Clown.” They’re definitely less menacing (at least at first glance,) but they’re still clowns, and therefore... Dangerous? You be the judge with this pairing of dramedy-centric, lesser-known madcap madness best suited for the cinephiles fond of low-budget, decades-old independent flicks.

Shakes the Clown (1991)

Bobcat Goldthwait. You might not be familiar with his name, but you’re definitely familiar with his voice, with roles in Disney’s Hercules, Lilo & Stitch, and Eek! The Cat. In Shakes, Goldthwait proves he’s more than a silly voice by writing, directing, and starring in this dark, absurd story that seems set in a city where clowning is a booming industry. Strange, funny, and filled with recognizable faces from Kathy Griffin to the late, great Robin Williams.

Vulgar (2000)

Best known for his record-setting run on the FOX game show The Floor, Brian O’Halloran got his start in the entertainment industry in Kevin Smith’s View Askewniverse—a connected universe of Smith’s films—starring in Smith’s first flick, Clerks. After years without another starring vehicle, frequent Smith collaborator Bryan Johnson cast O’Halloran as a gang-raped party clown trying to piece his life back together.

No Laughing Matter

Let’s get into the heavy horror hitters, two flicks that might make some of you sick. These are for the serious film freaks, those with a taste for the strange, violent, and/or grotesque.

Terrifier 2 (2022)

Yes, it’s a sequel. No, you don’t need to watch the first one. Terrifier 2 stands on its own. A twisted bit of glorious, gory, surrealistic slasher terror with a slight 80s synth-wave edge. David Howard Thornton cements his place in the cultural zeitgeist in this second outing as modern horror icon Art the Clown.

Clown (2014)

Years before Jon Watts brought Spider-Man home to Marvel with his Home Trilogy (Homecoming, Far From Home, No Way Home,) he and writing partner Christopher Ford uploaded a trailer to YouTube. The trailer was for a body horror about a man transforming into a demonic monster clown. Watts and Ford boldly claimed the flick was being produced by Eli Roth—which it wasn’t—until Roth found out about it. He loved the concept, and you can too. If it doesn’t freak you out too much.

For as long as she could remember, Elisha Smash only ever had the one dream. She was in a desert, but she wasn’t, not in any physical sense. It was as if she were a ghost, invisible, unseen, and unheard. Able only to watch and listen, a voyeur in her own dream. An insignificant afterthought, the same as in her waking life. Though somehow, there, in her dream desert, Elisha felt content, a sense of belonging. As if that was her true home, forever non-corporeal, there amongst the gold and black sands of the forever desert, dunes in some areas standing taller than any human-made structure or mountain ever had or ever would, and the shattered sky of intersecting, overlapping, and branching-off cracks, no two the same in shape or color. Like lightning bolt snowflakes, each unique in its own way.

And then there was him.

Elisha did not know him, not her dream, nor her waking life, but every night he was there, naked and near dead, staggering aimlessly across the desert. Severely exhausted, dehydrated, and malnourished, but always moving. If time existed there, he would have been there a long time. Long enough that Elisha had watched as the hair of his head and face grew long and tangled. And his rotund figure wasted and withered, so he more resembled a living skeleton than a man. Sometimes she could hear him, faint, nonsensical babblings. The ravings of a madman, lost and alone in a place not meant for existence.

Elisha only thought she belonged there in her dream desert, but Elisha knew beyond any doubt that that man did not. Where he belonged was as much a mystery as how he got there or who he was. Perhaps if she had had a voice, Elisha would’ve asked these things.

Though not likely, as she somehow knew he did not know. Somehow, Elisha knew a great many things in her dream desert, from the infinite beginnings and endless ends of countless realities—yet that man remained an unknown.

Every step threatened to be his last. The little strength he’d gathered from the blood of what Elisha could only describe as “scorpions” was all but gone. His knees would begin to buckle under his minimal weight. Every tired, worn muscle of his broken body screamed in agony, a horrible cry of unbearable pain only Elisha could hear. He struggled to remain upright and walking, fighting with all he could and then some, but as Elisha knew, it wasn’t enough. It never was. He always collapsed. First to his hands and knees, and even still, he continued to try. Crawling until even that was too much for his frail body. But still, he fought onward. Clawing and dragging himself over the sands, the grains slicing his rice paper-thin flesh, a million tiny cuts covering his chest and his belly and his genitals. His suffering was her suffering. It radiated from his very being and into her.

The closer he came to Death’s door, the worse it got for Elisha. All his pain and fear and frustration and anger and confusion flooded everything that she was. If she had had a voice then, Elisha would have used it to scream.

Then a flash of light, hot, blinding, and white.