Buddy Showtime Biography

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Real Name:   
Nicknames:  Mr. [Insert Night of Show Here]  
Hometown:  The Showtime Conservatory of Violent Arts in Scenic, Downtown Allentown, PA. Enroll Today!  
Height:  6'5  
Weight:  295 lbs 


Yout remember Buddy Showtime, or
maybe you're thinking of Val Venis.
Or maybe Vinnie Vegas. One of those
big guys during the mid-90s with
more swagger than talent. But yeah,
he was around for years and didn't
completely suck. Finished with an
irish whip that he pulled back into a
f'n brutal short-arm clothesline. Yeah,
laugh it up, but the fans went apeshit
for it. Called it the Ol' 1-2-3 because
he'd tease it twice before finally
hitting. And he only almost broke a
dude's collarbone once. OK, twice
but the second time was in Japan*.

Buddy got some legit midcard heat
but never seemed to get the big
titles. Still, he never got fired, which
is weird for a dude who liked to party
like Buddy Showtime did. I mean,
this was back when he'd show up at
ten AM with a 12-pack and an
eightball and he wouldn't stop unless
there was a match in the way. Weird
how he was never the one that got
busted at the border.

Buddy hit his peak in ninety five-six-
seven, he had the asshole Vegas
Lounge Singer/Gameshow Host
patter down pat, like a PG-13 Dice
Clay. Never quite using four letter
words, but even the twelve-year-olds
knew that he was into some seriously
rank shit. And there is nothing that a
certain type of twelve-year old looks
for in a role model more than an
interest in seriously rank shit. You
could set your watch: the kid in the
Buddy Showtime t-shirt would be
stealing your hubcaps in eighteen
months. But then came ninety eight.

Now you have to understand, it was
never formally diagnosed, but Buddy
either had a very small aneurysm or
a very large overdose or possibly
either both at once. Some people
claim he told 'em he saw god, some
people told 'em he saw an infinite
string of strip malls overflowing with
human teeth like an open tic-tac box
but, long story short, he missed a
pay-per-view. And he was very
quietly and very firmly told not to
bother finishing out the rest of the
tour. We'll call you.

And Buddy, as has been established,
was not stupid. This meant he knew
they wouldn't. This also meant he
could do math. This meant that he
knew that the people to whom he
gave duffel bags full of small
unmarked bills would expect another
one next month. And without steady
income, small unmarked bills are
hard to come by. Especially since the
bulk of that steady income depended
on his having access to locker rooms
full of large, poorly-educated men
who wished to feel differently than
they did.

Fortunately, the large, poorly
educated men still liked him (unlike
those assholes in the front office) so
he called up Sarge and asked if he
was still training wannabes. And he
called up Father Thanatos and asked
him if his cousin still had that
mattress store off the interstate he
was trying to sell.

And so was born the Buddy
Showtime Conservatory of Violent
Arts. Bookers knew that when you
hired a Buddy Showtime man, he
would know how to work the mic,
would show up on time, and
suddenly the rest of the locker room
would start looking a bit larger, wider
awake, and less likely to complain
about their bad knees, backs and
marriages. And the Buddy Showtime
graduates were the only ones who
didn't start asking for they pay in

Buddy Showtime was sitting pretty
until 2008 when that fucking TV
show wrecked everything. Goddamn
dad from Malcolm in the Middle.

Still, at least by then, he was mostly
out of hock: he'd given up the
eightballs, and only the twelve-packs

And even without the sideline, there
was a derelict mattress store full of
young hopefuls. It was time, he
decided, to start coming with the
rookies when the next one got a

The rest is history.

*Yeah, of course he went to Japan:
he wasn't stupid. Even got his ass
kicked by Moonlight Nishioka the
month before he got elected to the
Diet. He even got residuals for a
while when footage from the fight
was used in Nishioka's reelection
campaign TV commercials.