Jim is blogging! For his first blog, Jim went on to explain the difference between a ‘writer’ and a ‘booker.’ Very detailed information from Jim, here. You can read the whole article at www.jimcornette.com. This is very interesting stuff.
‘For years, the head of the creative team has been Stephanie McMahon, the boss’ daughter. While an intelligent, college-educated woman, her credentials qualifying her to be the head “writer” of a wrestling promotion remain the three words “the boss’ daughter.” Her knowledge of wrestling history, especially of how her father put the territories out of business, is nil, as evidenced by her testimony before Congress. Her experience as a performer has been limited to what she wrote for herself. It’s not her fault entirely, as until she came to work at the WWE after college, she attended the matches sporadically, and certainly no one was going to teach the boss’ daughter anything that might be politically imprudent. Her husband, Triple H, a student of the game, is certainly not going to rock his marriage boat, and much more important to him, his position as the heir to the throne, by telling her any of the negative effects her father has had on the pro wrestling industry in general while building his personal empire.
‘So Stephanie, as head of creative, hires people like her.Young people with college degrees in writing, many with experience writing scripted television, comedy shows in particular, with little or no respect for wrestling, and little if any experience performing ANYTHING. As a matter of fact, being a fan of wrestling is not even a requirement for the job, and God forbid if you DO admit to being a wrestling fan, and having watched any other wrestling besides WWE, you will at best be viewed as a “mark” and your days numbered.
‘These sitcom writers and comic book/video game enthusiasts don’t apply for WWE jobs out of a lifelong love of wrestling, they do it to add to their resumes for the day they can get jobs in “real” TV and feed their dreams of winning an Emmy. They write things to amuse themselves and/or Vince, because seemingly 80% or better of “sports entertainment” has to be funny, usually involving stripper pillow fights, fart jokes, crossdressers, fat oily guys, inside jokes only a small portion of the audience understand, and midgets. When the fans who actually watch wrestling because they like it don’t enjoy this crap, they are called “smart marks”, “spoiled”, and mocked and made fun of for not being “with the program”, because in the WWE the customer is NEVER right.
‘While the WWE employs some of the greatest in-ring talent of the past as agents, like Arn Anderson, Ricky Steamboat and others, not only do they not have a hand in actually writing the shows, but they know better than to ruffle feathers by giving their true opinions, so they are forced to sit in muzzled silence while one of the writers sacrifices his dignity with gusto by slathering oil on his repulsive, 300 pound frame and parades about in a G-String, taking up time that could be used to get a hardworking young wrestler over. They know that Vince and his minions love to embarass and humiliate his loyal wrestling staff on TV if they step up with a dissenting opinion. It’s no wonder that Michael Hayes, the last remaining person out of the revolving door staff of “writers” who has actually BEEN a pro wrestler, has had public issues with alcohol. After watching these amateur Shakespeares barge into the front door of my profession, wipe their feet on the rug, and turn the business into a clown show resembling the Harlem Globetrotters on acid, I feel like taking up a Mexican black tar heroin habit.
‘In this process, all the individuality has been taken from the talent. As the RAW script which was recently leaked on the internet shows, every word, every bit of business, even every gesture is scripted and only the upper echelon of talent has the liberty of any improvisation. Wrestling has been homogenized, pasteurized, and “sanitized for your protection” like a cellophane wrapper on a toilet seat at a cheap motel. The “writers” have become so absorbed in self-aggrandizement that every page of the detailed script is headed with “You are watching the longest-running weekly episodic television show in history”, as if they are on the level of Gunsmoke, Bonanza or I Love Lucy. I don’t recall Marshall Dillon spouting bad jokes like a standup comic in the Poconos, or Fred Mertz giving Ricky Ricardo a piledriver.
‘If the material succeeds, the creative team pats itself on the back. If it fails, they blame the wrestlers, saddled with silly gimmicks and lame scripts they don’t have the power to refuse, for not being able to “draw money”. If stars of the past like Dick Murdoch, the Sheik, Abdullah the Butcher, or even Dusty Rhodes, were to come along today, they couldn’t even get jobs in developmental because they don’t fit the cookie-cutter mold of what “stars” are supposed to look like. They would sound the same as everyone else because they wouldn’t have the power to “go into business for themselves” and get themselves over with their unique personalities.
‘The matches themselves, the very basis of how wrestling sells tickets, are minimized in importance because, from bell to bell, the matches are the one thing that’s hardest for the “writers” to control. The overwritten, overproduced skits take precedent because, as the old saying goes, if the “writers” ever walked into an athlete’s locker room, they’d be whistling “Stranger in Paradise.” The passion and emotion has been drained from the promos, as instead of colorful personalities speaking their own words from the heart, the talent recite memorized promos handed to them in a script, so everyone sounds the same. Credibility has been sacrificed as instead of two men fighting over a championship or personal issue easily understood and believed by the viewer, they are mired into an overwritten, convoluted soap opera that is obviously contrived. Injury rates soar as people who have never been in a match come up with ridiculously complicated stipulations and gimmick-laden bouts that are impossible to perform safely, all the while knowing THEY’LL never have to risk their necks actually executing the ****.
‘I’m Jim Cornette, and that’s my opinion.’