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Dreams - The Funky Butts. To mark 25 years, this page is hear-by active again. More to come! The novel gets a four-star review!! Funky Butts: An Unauthorized Autobiography. After nearly 20 years, the story of the Funky Butts can finally be told.

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In the brief period before grunge and after the explosion of MTV, one band represented the last gasp of pure, harmless and good-natured rock and roll. One band challenged the music establishment by breaking the rules and mak We are fig newtons of your imagination. Happy belated birthday to Marathon Man, who turned 46 yesterday! Keep rockin' The Funky Butts is the story of the rise and fall of a fictional band in the pre-grunge and early MTV era. The novel has received its first review - and it's a good one!

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Hmmm, anyone in the mood for a good book? The Funky Butts updated their cover photo. A current fave Scenic Roots presents their official music video of "Orphan Girl". Frat Dudes!! The Ramones meet Tenacious D! Forgot account? I walked back inside and gave it to her. I was probably eight or nine years old, and the only comfort I could provide my mother was to find that ring. Looking back, it seems strange that I was trying to find a symbol of a busted marriage that had just led to a broken finger. Like I said, his life was rolling and on the upswing.

He was hell-bent on making a name in the business, which he most certainly did. After they divorced, my dad would roll into town from time to time and we would go to the events. The Freebirds were big, too. I remember going to the Coliseum in downtown Austin to see my dad wrestle. I was probably about nine years old, and it was the first time I saw my dad perform live.

I was running around the floor as the show was going on. I was so excited to see my dad, and there were all these people jumping up and down cheering for him. It was really cool seeing people react to my dad that way. It was the way I felt about him, too. After the show ended, I walked up to the ring.

I jumped up onto the apron and grabbed the ropes. He was in the back behind the curtain.

He came running out into the arena and started yelling. I mean, that was my dad. All I wanted was to be with my dad. It was as if all these people, all the fans in that arena and in cities all over the territories he worked, had more of him than I did. He was always good to us, but I wanted to be a larger part of his life. Many years later my daughter, Dakota, would come with her mother and me on the road.

I always let her climb into the ring and bounce around with Hunter and Edge and just have fun. During Christmas, he would fly us to Tampa on Braniff Airlines. Even then he was gone working all the time. Once in a while we talked to him on the phone, but otherwise he was somewhere out in the world. When we did see him, the time passed so quickly that it seemed like within moments of our arrival it was time to turn around and go home.

He was never really there for us. Then again, this lifestyle comes with the territory. He was a father when it came to child support and generally doing the right thing in terms of his responsibilities to us, but it was more of a formality. It is awesome to see. As soon as I became conscious of it, I wanted to be a part of it all. Dusty Rhodes was my dad, and I was drawn to him in the same way a fan is.

Meanwhile, his career just kept rising. It was like he could do no wrong, and all I saw was the wonder of it all. Everything was going for him and I wanted a life just like his. I wanted that experience. In some ways we were growing up together, though we remained far apart. It seemed like the older I got the bigger he became.

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After my sophomore year at Lanier High School in Austin, my mother finally agreed to let me go live with my father. He had a new family by then, and they were living in Charlotte, North Carolina. Both of us were far more passionate about wrestling than football or pretty much anything else outside of girls.

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Prior to our junior season, we shaved our heads like the Road Warriors, Hawk and Animal. Every chance we had, Brad and I would do trampoline wrestling. We took time to create these elaborate setups, making the whole experience as real as possible. We each had our music playing as we came toward the trampoline, which was our ring. I liked playing football, but I loved wrestling. All I know is that I was blinded by the desire to be a part of his life.

All I know is that I had the fever. But it was not what I expected. My dad was still gone much of the time. He is a great loving father and both of us have changed in so many ways over the years. But at the time, I wanted and needed him to be the nurturing kind of father. I thought everything was going to be exactly how I had pictured it all those years when I was living in Austin. I thought there would be more father-son time, more time to build a deeper relationship with him.

Instead, he always seemed grumpy and grouchy, which I understand now. He was working a lot inside and outside the ring. He was booking the talent and pushing himself, which meant there were always guys pissed off at him for one reason or another. Other guys were mad that someone else was getting pushed ahead of them.


He had to hire and fire guys. He also was a huge star at the time. He was the American Dream, Dusty Rhodes. He was as big as anyone in professional wrestling. My dad had to be creative and tough at the same time because he knew how to draw crowds and make money.

As hard as it had to be physically, the mental stress of working both ends of the business had to be exhausting. As it turned out, I hardly got to see him. When I did see him he was riding me about homework, girls, grades, or something else. It was a letdown, but I had my buddies, so life moved on.

I played football and wrestled during my last two years in high school, and I did very well. Despite poor grades, I had a bunch of scholarship offers. Tennessee, Utah, and Louisville were among the schools that recruited me. I decided on the University of Louisville, where Howard Schnellenberger had taken over the program. I had my mind oriented in one direction. Back then professional wrestlers were very serious about keeping everything a secret. It was like a religion. They would show up in separate cars and they never gave away their secrets. There were always people who thought they knew a little bit about what happened in the ring, though.

It really annoys me when somebody calls what we do fake. And I kicked more than a little butt as I got older because of that word. But my dad kept it so quiet. All those guys at the time used to speak their own language. Over time I picked up the language and figured out what they were saying. Little by little I learned how to speak it as well.

Rappers sing or perform in a kind of carny language of their own. I still talk in carny with some of the veterans because I love it. It was like our own secret society and everyone followed the rules. It was great. I kayfabed all the time. That is the art of keeping it all real for the fans by staying in character at all times. We took it very seriously. When Steve Austin and I had our run in the early s, we were very cautious about being seen together.

Today, guys who just wrestled on television are out having a beer together and no one thinks twice about it.

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Obviously he knew how hard the life could be and maybe he wanted something different, something better for his son. Midway through my senior year in high school, my father moved back to Dallas. My little brother, Cody, was only a baby when they left, so I stayed behind and finished up my school year. Then I packed up what little I had and drove to Dallas. We have something to talk about.

He got into my truck and launched into a forty-five-minute crash course on professional wrestling. He not only smartened me up about the way everything operates, but he covered the business outside the ring and beyond the arena. I took it all in. I probably knew by that point that the outcomes were set up in advance, but he explained how angles were developed. I remember being so impressed by his business sense and creativity. He understood every corner of it.

You are going to referee two matches. I did exactly as my father asked, stopping by the store, then driving miles to Amarillo in my used red Jeep Comanche pickup. Everyone else, including my father, took a private jet. My dad wanted me to pay my dues, so I hit the road. He laid it all out in that speech.