A Zombie Preparedness Center from an Ace Hardware store in Nebraska
PART ONE: Papa Shango
The U. S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention trumpeted the news last spring: “CDC does not know of a virus or condition that would reanimate the dead (or one that would present zombie-like symptoms.)” This after a spate of bizarre, gory incidents in recent months: in Miami, the widely-publicized case of a naked man eating much of another man’s face; not to mention other similarly grotesque occurrences in New Jersey, Texas and in Maryland. News of these sensational stories quickly spread across cyberspace like a wildfire, igniting fear and speculation that a Zombie Apocalypse is upon us. “Not so,” the CDC assures us.
“Zombies represent America’s fears of bioterrorism, a fear that strengthened after the 9/11 attacks,” says Patrick Hamilton, an English professor at Misericordia University in Dallas, Pa.
For wrestling fans and, specifically, for Doughboy watchers, this Zombie Apocalypse is not a new phenomenon. Rather, it’s something that began 20 years ago, in the early 90’s, when wrestling promoters, desperate to attract a waning audience with ever-new sensational scenarios, set the likes of Papa Shango, Kamala and Samu & Fatu, the Headshrinkers, to wreak their supernatural havoc upon the supposedly unsuspecting and increasingly disposable “enhancement talent” of the day.
For those of us attracted to this parade of doughy boys, recruited week after week to face certain humiliation in the ring, these bizarre matches are tinged with an added sexual tension. Any pretense that we’re about to view a fair-and-square fight is stripped away. What we’re left with is a side show in which husky guys in tights become little more than a WWF special effect. A hand bursts into flames, a man’s shapely leg suddenly goes limp, black goo oozes from another’s head—or in a scene eerily prescient of recent goings-on in Florida, a cannibal gnaws and chews on a face of a helpless, defeated young lad.
For fans of these “ordinary Joe’s,” the very notion that these boys in tights are disposable, the brunt of a gimmick, doubly-humiliated, not meant to be rooted for or cared about, makes their limited time in the squared-circle all the more prized and their soft, pale bodies snugly packed into spandex all the more desirable.
*****
PAPA SHANGO (a.k.a. Charles Wright) made his WWF debut in 1992. Though he wrangled with such top-billed stars as Hulk Hogan and Sid Justice and was involved in highly-publicized feud with the Ultimate Warrior, it was the jobbers, the “ham-and-eggers,” that served as the bread-and-butter of Papa Shango’s WWF career. Though these weekly squash matches were usually brutally carried out using traditional means, including the heel’s signature move the Shoulder Breaker (with which he usually finished off his opponents), from time to time Papa Shango called his Voodoo practice into play, subjecting our Doughboys to new and unexpected levels of abuse, the likes of which had never before been seen in the pro wrestling squared circle:
It’s not always just the husky boys who face abuse at the hands and spells of these evil WWF witch doctors. When the scenario calls for hysterics and emoting, for in-peril damsels- in- distress, that’s when the more delicate Doughboys, the girly-men of the jobber ranks, are called into action. Take for instance the two matches that follow:
One of the most anxiety-raising aspects of an impending Zombie Apocalypse—brought to light by the spate of gory attacks and incidents in recent months—is the fear of cannibalism, a taboo exploited by the WWF in the personas of heels Kamala, the Ugandan Cannibal and Samu and Fatu, The Headshrinkers. Coming in future installments of Zombie Apocalypse, Doughboys face new levels of humiliation and exploitation (and a surprising level of sexual suggestiveness) that, even for the ratings-hungry WWF of the early 90’s, reaches bizarre new heights…
To be continued…