As his theme-song tells us, Hulk Hogan is a real American, and if there's one thing that real Americans can't stand it's fat lesbians – to a real American, a fat lesbian is as bad as a terrorist or a European.
And because she's a fat lesbian, Rosie O'Donnell has incurred Hulk Hogan's wrath like no other, with the possible exception of Rowdy Roddy Piper or Nikolai Volkoff. To promote his upcoming revival of American Gladiators, Hulk Hogan has decided to tell the world that he wants one of the American Gladiators to beat up Rosie O'Donnell because "someone needs to shut that big mouth up." And quite right. It's that kind of level-headed, shot from the hip straight-talking that's made Hulk Hogan the man he is today – an old, bald, sausage-coloured, washed-up wrestler with a son who's been arrested, an expensive divorce on the go, a couple of dodgy knees and a filmography that includes Mr Nanny.
Rosie O'Donnell isn't on the telly any more. Not for lack of trying, but she just isn't. It could be because Rosie O'Donnell can't help but make enemies every time she opens her mouth, whether it's Elisabeth Hasselbeck or Donald Trump or the entire population of China.
But maybe it's not entirely down to that, because Rosie O'Donnell hasn't opened her mouth in public for quite some time now, and she's even managed to make a new enemy that way too. And a formidable one at that – it's Hulk Hogan, who for two decades was the leading proponent of ripping flimsy T-shirts open, pretending to be deaf and flexing his saveloy-style arms in slow-motion to the sound of copyright-free hard rock music on VHS compilation tapes.
You'd think that Hulk Hogan would have enough on his plate at the moment, what with his divorce and his son getting arrested for crashing his car so badly that his friend will remain in care for the rest of his life, but no. Hulk Hogan also has the new series of American Gladiators to promote.
The new American Gladiators have just been unveiled, and a group of angrier, more racially-diverse, fatter-thighed men and women you'll be hard pushed to find. But since they're all new to this fighting thing with foam-ended sticks thing, perhaps the American Gladiators should set about a celebrity first, as a sort of practise. And Hulk Hogan knows who should get it first:
"Without a doubt Rosie O'Donnell. Somebody needs to shut that big mouth up."
And this bewildering, completely outdated – the main television networks have already shut Rosie O'Donnell up, remember? – outburst gave Rosie O'Donnell the perfect chance to use her blog for something other than demonstrating hair-straighteners and wailing about dead Iraqi babies. This is how Rosie responded:
hulk hogan
the wrestler guy
wants to pummel me
isnt that sweet
and wildly oddits like a gang of gross guys
a club almost
old dumb white and on tv
Perhaps this is the end of Hulk Hogan and Rosie O'Donnell's weird little feud. But perhaps it isn't. Perhaps it'll stretch to it's inevitable outcome – where Rosie O'Donnell dresses up in shiny silver spandex and charges at Hulk Hogan flailing and kicking, until the building sexual tension becomes unbearable and they start doing it on the floor, right in front of everyone, and then Donald Trump comes in and gets all like "I want me some of that" and strips off and starts to double-team Rosie O'Donnell with Hulk Hogan, and people watching start crying and fainting and puking and screaming at God to make it stop.
So for that reason alone, let's hear no more of this.
Read more:
Hulk Hogan Says He'd Like to See a Gladiator Pummel Rosie O'Donnell – Fox
Gilbert Wham says
Somebody needs to come up with a new word to replace ‘filmography’. They could expunge Hulk Hogan from the history books while they’re at it.
MySpace Text says
Be scared Rosie. hehehehe!
Larry says
The American Gladiators actually go way back. You could find them on high-numbered cable channels late at night performing their stupefying stunts in some large, echoey arena. Sometimes the consciously Las-Vegas style events were so ditsy that it was not possible to understand just what they were doing, or more importantly, why. At some point, just as the look of the show was reaching its most pumped-up, spandexed, steroid-soaked pinnacle, it migrated across the ocean to the UK, and again, nobody knows why. But anyway, here they come again, in prime time on a major network, and we can once again sit back and watch steroided women who seem to have lost their chests and men who, strangely, seem to have acquired one.