Thoughts Over The Morning’s Coffee: The King Jerry Lawler Acknowledges Me as The Superstar

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Doesn’t matter which media I’m dropped in. There’s always gossip. The WWE was in town this weekend for shows at The Staple Center [Summer Slam], and a Monday Raw telecast in Anaheim.

But Saturday night some very high profile guy in the organization might have lost his job. At least that was the buzz. I don’t think too much of a stink is going to be made about Ric Flair because Ric Flair is Ric Fair and that’s what he does. I hear Flair was more than highly entertaining at a press conference.

But Vince McMahon was with lawyers all day Sunday regarding the other chap who was scheduled to be at some big video game show Saturday night except he had other commitments with a Vodka bottle.

So Jerry “The King” Lawler [pictured with yours truly] who had the night off was approached with an offer and $5,000 to fill in. For $5,000, hell, I’d drive Manwin to the airport.

How do I know all this? Because Scotty Schwartz and I were Lawler’s guests at Summer Slam, and you, well, hear things. First thing out of Lawler’s mouth when we’re introduced he comments, “You look like The Super Star [Billy Graham].”

And he would know because Lawler back in 1979 beat Graham for the Continental Wrestling Association title.

Lawler who’s 63 has a 25 year old girlfriend, and I think right there I’ve discovered the reasons why he had a heart attack last September on air during a Monday Night Raw telecast.

Lawler’s fine but we should all have girlfriends 38 years younger. I also learned something else. When you tell security people at the Staples Center your Jerry Lawler’s girlfriend it opens doors, magically.

We wound up in a posh executive suite. Two guys sitting next to Scotty and me during the show evidently discovered it was an open bar and took healthy advantage of that situation.

Earlier in the afternoon Lawler meets us at the security gate and first takes us to the “green room” where I had maybe the finest Filet Mignon in my life that I didn’t have to pay for.

Scotty right away gets into a conversation with a guy who looks like the Unabomber. Later he tells me it’s Shawn Michaels. Like, get the fuck outta here. Put it this way. Michaels has changed a bit from his glam-boy wrestling days with this new backwoods Ted Nugent look.

Me? Who do I run into? A porn guy, or a former porn guy- Smiley Johnson, aka, Ryan Katz, aka Turd Ferguson, aka someone Rob Black wants to murder but Black tells that story a lot better.

Smiley Johnson I’ve known from the old Extreme Associates days, and it was over a year ago when I did a Tarot reading for him and told Johnson he’d be getting a job offer from the WWE.

Guess what? He got a job offer from the WWE. So how’s that for pulling a prediction out of your ass? Smiley tells me he’s working behind the scenes but WWE is developing an on-air character for him. By all accounts, I think Black is working on a coffin to fit him.

Years ago when I first met Scotty Schwartz and heard his stories about working the ring crew for the old WWF I figured that he was full of vainglorious shit.

Funny thing. He wasn’t. He texts Hulk Hogan regularly, hangs out with Brutus The Barber Beefcake like when he was in Tampa the other week, Mick Foley calls out to him in the middle of a crowded room and lately I’ve been hearing how Scotty needs to get with John Cena for some possible big business deal.

So what does Lawler tell him? “Cena’s a fan of yours,” says The King. Which is all Scotty needed to hear because he’s been trying to figure out how to hook up with Cena. Too bad Scotty’s not female porn performer Kendra Lust

Cena’s wrestling in the main event and loses the WWE title to Daniel Bryan who’s hardly a newcomer but also looks like the Unabomber. I note that mountain men beards seem to be quite the thing with the WWE talent right now.

But no sooner does Bryan pin Cena [I whisper to Scotty asking why he’s dealing with a “loser” like Cena] that’s when we’re trying to get back to the green room.

In a classic wrestling gimmick, Triple H, who was the referee, pulls a double cross that allows Randy Orton to come in and pin Bryan for another title switch. All in the span of 15 minutes, you’re allotted time for fame.

We miss all of this, of course, because a security guy who could be moonlighting as a bureaucrat for all I know is busy telling Scotty that our “red” access passes were no longer valid because they now had to be “green”.

But not before Scotty manages to extricate two official Summer Slam ringside seats [$1500 bucks a ticket to be close-up], one for Lawler and one he’ll probably sell on eBay. Not knowing that Bryan coughed up the title like a hairball, Scotty figures he’ll have Bryan autograph the seat. But that changes when we watch Orton walk out the security exit with the belt slung over his shoulders.

Scotty asks Lawler what happened to Bryan.

“He’s done,” said Lawler as if he were a doctor delivering a prognosis.

Scotty, goes, did we miss something, and Lawler filled him in what happened.

So all this byplay completely hinders any chance of getting to Cena who’s already left the building. So Scotty will be back in Anaheim Monday night pursuing that deal.

Meanwhile I get a picture taken with Lawler followed by a tap on the shoulder from Omarosa who once worked for Al Gore and if you’re into reality shows will recall she was fired by Donald Trump on The Apprentice.

I guess Omarosa figured since I was hobnobbing, I had to be The Superstar, and she wanted to have a picture taken with me. Except somebody must have clued her in, otherwise, because, in the nonchalant way all these Hollywood chicks have, Omarosa dumps me like a hot potato.

All of a sudden I feel left and alone. Kind of like Daniel Bryan.

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