A story for our times. This one I just ripped off in a short while after seeing Wrestling Arsenal mention #metoo in regards to Arn Anderson manhandling a jobber. So it got my juices flowing.
June, 1987, the WWF headquarters. Vince McMahon’s office.
“What in the ever living fuck is this? This is real?” Vince McMahon asked his HR manager Laura Roberts again if the memo in his hand told the truth about what happened over the past week in Las Vegas.
“Afraid so, sir. Confirmed by multiple people, multiple witnesses.”
“I don’t get it. This Jenkins kid gets an expense account and a free hotel room and turns into fucking Caligula?”
So this story is VERY VERY different from other things I’ve written. Be warned! It’s just a musing on the fact that out there, in the real world, are people who suffer….just because. And for the amusement of others. They are jobbers in the real world, being dominated and humiliated. Might not be for everyone!
JOBBERS IN THE WILD
Guest writer Christopher is back with another tale of woe. This one is called “The Submission Hold,” and a jobber feels the….sting of defeat. Thanks again to our guest Christopher for filling the void for your lackluster web jobber!
THE SUBMISSION HOLD
My name is Timmy Starr and I am a fifteen-year-old pro wrestler. I sprinted to the ring, while trying to get the crowd going. I barely got any reaction from the crowd, other than a few taunts such as ‘scrubber’, and ‘loser’.
Hey gang. As anyone who has seen this blog knows, my output is not exactly prodigious. So to help fill the void, a fan of the site wrote in with his own story and wondered if I’d post it. I’m happy to here. It’s a nice tale about a jobber who gets some…Bad News. Thanks to Christopher for the contribution. Apologies for the paragraph formatting, it wasn’t letting me get double space.
CONFESSIONS OF A JOBBER KID
A surge of excitement pumped through me. Here I am, a fifteen-year-old kid, in my first pro wrestling bout. I wore a black leather jacket along with purple and green wrestling trunks. The mat was cool to my bare feet, but I would get used to it. I heard some taunts coming from the crowd that sounded like, “Loser,” and “Scrub”. I was taken aback by such words, but I could not afford to let my emotions get the best of me. I had a job to do.
Time for another deep dive into a particular aspect of squash matches that drives me nuts. I’ve already discussed military presses and how those hit my jobber soul. Today: When a heel throws a jobber outside the ring, punishes him out there, and then tosses him back under the ropes for the punishment to continue.
Ready for some great jobber humiliations? Great! Let’s do this!
Fresh new tale of jobber humiliation and degradation! Hope you enjoy.
JOBBER SON, HEEL DAD
Terrible Terry Jensen walked into the locker room in his blue jeans and leather jacket and couldn’t help but feel a little bittersweet. He was going to miss all the guys in WCW, especially everyone he competed with and against on Saturday nights in the TBS Studio. They were a little tribe, a family. Arn Anderson and Tully Blanchard. Stan Hansen. Sid Vicious. Ronnie Garvin. Kevin Sullivan. They were all heels and all made a living kicking ass and dominating jobbers. It was a great way to make a living. He was going to miss these guys when he left WCW. But his living was about to get a lot better.
NOTE: The YouTube Nazis have deleted Richard Land’s account, which was only the best account on the site. FUUUUCK. So you’ll notice many of the videos below are no longer available. I’m leaving them as is, though, with the descriptions, because, well, I’m too lazy to do otherwise.
ORIGINAL POST: Anyone who’s read anything on this blog knows about my love — call it a fetish — of military presses. Now, the obsession is with a specific type of press: When the heel lifts the jobber by using his trunks. I’m not as big a fan of when the heel just puts his hand in the jobber’s crotch and hoists him up. Impressive bit of strength, but doesn’t hit my trigger points. But to see a helpless jobber in trunks, being held by his chin or his fucking throat, while the heel yanks the trunks above the helpless sissy’s ass, putting him on display for the entire crowd to see? Oh my. I’ve spilled a lot of jobber juice over the decades to that image.
Note for wrestling folks: I’m using the military press term here, although I know there’s debate about what that actually means. He has to extend his arms! I don’t care about specifics, this is what I’ll call it for this blog. Obviously the phrase overhead press also works fine.