The Rag Mag, Volume #1

A newcomer to the EWA, known as Sahara, stormed the scene this past week and put on quite the show with Gates and Sinclair. Was it successful? I guess that depends on how you measure success.

If you haven’t been living under a rock this past week, you already know who she is, where she comes from, who her husband is, etc…so let’s not bother with that. Oh, you do live under a rock?! Then cough up the shekels for the EWA Network and quit complaining.

Since the EWA kind of threw her out there with little to no fanfare, other than the tidbits we gleaned from a couple of promos, we searched for some her old matches from the 1990’s ‘tude era and see what she was all about. Oh, wait. Other than a few insane stunt spots — which I’ll openly admit I’d never fucking do — she has no wrestling record. And why?

BECAUSE SHE NEVER FUCKING WRESTLED.

It’s easy to scoff at what’s going on in the EWA regarding this Sahara mess, but let’s look at this a bit closer. The EWA braintrust isn’t stupid…after all, they put on one of the most consistently compelling wrestling products on the market. So, let’s ask ourselves the question…why would the EWA, with all their knowledge, resources and that deep roster, bother putting someone like Sahara out there knowing she’d fail?

Because it was entertaining.

What?

Because. It. Was. Entertaining.

Come on, we’ve all wanted to see someone from that era transported through time and thrown into a modern wrestling ring. Granted, we’d prefer it had been someone we’ve heard of, but whatever. We’ll take it. I mean, she came from an era of Torture Racks and Cloverleafs where matches weren’t about wrestling or speed…they were about who could fall the furthest or bleed the most. And then drink the most. And then pop the most pills.

All in the same night.

Be that as it may, in her debut match she faced Shaun Sinclair. The guy isn’t some musclebound meathead that can’t scratch his own back…he’s as strong as they come and as a fast as a gazelle being chased by a lion.

Which bring us to Osbourne Kilminster.

An actual lion.

A bruiser of the highest order. Unforgiving in his ways. A master in the art of submission destruction, and carnage. And probably death. It’s clear that when you step into the ring against him, you’re basically saying you’re better than he is. And, well…apparently he has a problem with that.

So, what does the EWA do?!

They throw the Sahara to the, uh…lion.

On a fucking house show.

And why?

Because now we have to buy tickets to see this debacle. Normally, we skip house shows around here and read those overly produced recaps that totally make the show sound more interesting than it really was. But then they started doing crazy shit like exchanging world titles and booking massacres like Sahara versus Kilminster.

The fuck is your problem, EWA? One show is supposed to be your flagship show, the other a complete throwaway nobody likes or cares about! That’s how you run a wrestling promotion…didn’t you get the memo?

Ok, before we lose our train of thought here, keep in mind I just called this match exactly what it looks like…a massacre.

But, is that what it really is?

Uhm…not really.

Okay, we already know Sahara can’t wrestle. But what she can do — which is probably something Shaun Sinclair could use some tips on — is some crazy ass Evel Knievel shit. Today. They don’t make many like that anymore. I mean, most of you probably don’t know who Evel Knievel even is, so…there’s that. But did you see that video where she flew off the jumbotron and crashed through the stage? Yeah, so did we…about 50 times. Now go look up who Evel Knievel is.

So, let’s talk about Sahara for a second here…

Usually, in most professions, a rookie isn’t someone without seasoning. There are various wrestling schools, indy promotions and what have you that eventually lead to the pro circuit. Look at baseball as an example, there are multiple layers of minor league affiliates before one arrives at “the show”.

Then we have Sahara.

She’s never had to endure the pain of being seasoned. She’s never had to sleep in her car — and we’re sure if she did — her Maserati wouldn’t be all that comfortable. She’s never had to eat tuna out of a can because it’s all she could afford. Or work odd backbreaking jobs while going to wrestling school in order to get a dark match audition that resulted in nothing. No. None of that. She was essentially drafted and put in the pros on day one — not because she was some sort of wrestling phenom — but because of who she is.

Shhh. Listen. Can you hear the cries of “unfair nepotistic one-percenter” from the “Occupy Wrestling” movement?

Needless to say, she’s here and she got shelled in her pro debut.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Did the ratings go down?

Nope.

Wait, what?

Did. The. Ratings. Go. Down?

NOPE.

Then welcome to the majors!

Some will call it luck. Granted, she’s lived a blessed life and everything gets handed to her. The have-nots in the wrestling world wish they could get an EWA contract let alone a tryout. Meanwhile, here we have this entitled little bitch getting a pro contract on day one…just because?

Well, let’s be honest…if you looked like her, you’d probably have an EWA contract, too. And no, you don’t look like her. Well, that and her husband happens to be something of a legendary phantom figure most in the industry could never quite figure out.

He’d come.

He’d go.

But god damn, every time he choose to come back, they’d make a big fucking deal out of it. I guess it helps to run in the proper circle of decision makers. Hey, Mirage, we know you’re probably going to get bored and quit, but you wanna join a top faction just because? Yeah, sure…because those sorts of invitations are thrown around like candy.

That was written with sarcasm in case it didn’t come across.

Back to Sahara, while some call it luck, to others, perhaps the word undeserving is more apt. But let’s look at this through the eyes of Sahara. She isn’t being afforded the time to wade from the shallows into the deep…slowly learning to swim with the sharks. No. She was thrown into the endless void and told to sink or swim, courtesy of Duane Gates. And let’s be honest. Most people in her situation would run scared. Sure, some of us claim we’d jump in if given the opportunity, but then we get to thinking about the consequences. This is like facing Mike Tyson in his prime when you have little to no boxing skill, knowing he’s going to knock your head off.

Good luck with that.

But that’s what this is. Sahara is about to face Osbourne Kilminster with little to no wrestling skill. And he’s going to knock her head off. Sure, the words out…she has a pretty crazy pain threshold for a woman that looks like she does, but still. Uh oh, I just judged a woman based on her looks. Get off your high horse you politically correct douchecanoe. I wasn’t being misogynist by judging the book by it’s cover. She’s a beautiful woman…and most women that look like her don’t run around jumping off jumbotrons.

Ok, whatever. I apologize.

Call the PC police off.

Now, think about that for a minute. She KNOWS she’s going to lose this fight…which means she’s not afraid to lose. Which also means she has nothing to lose.

You know who actually stands to lose?

Osbourne Kilminster.

Huh?!

Think about it. He’s wrestling a 175lb, 5’10” woman who has an inhuman ability to get up from the craziest shit you’ve ever seen. And every time she gets up, the crowd is going to laugh at poor ol’ Osbourne and cheer the princess that’s wading in waters far over her head. And I know this since I’ll be in the crowd…and well, I’m going to laugh…and cheer.

So, if you believe this match is nothing more than a massacre…think again.

Will Sahara lose?

Yes.

The question is…how long will it take Mr. Kilminster to put her away?