Break his Arm Off and Beat Him With It!
The evocative commemorates a golden, thickly muscled age — roughly the mid-'70s to the mid-'80s — in which spandexed men across Virginia and the Carolinas battled each other to be Mid-Atlantic Heavyweight Champion, which was then, apparently, “one of the great regional titles” in professional wrestling. Sections are devoted to the old stars, who included Wahoo McDaniel, Blackjack Mulligan, Khrusher Khrushchev and a little-known personality named Ric Flair (pictured). Unfortunately the only thing these guys are probably wrestling now is the top of their cans of Ensure. But way back then they were warrior kings. Learn what the word “Kayfabe” means by logging on to the Gateway, and check out for information on FanFest 2010 in Charlotte, where some of the old-school legends will meet up from Aug. 5-8 to talk with fans about the lost art of elbow dropping and the finer points of figure-four leglocking.

Feedback on History.
The Valentine Richmond History Center still invites public input as it moves forward with a “major redesign of current gallery space in anticipation of new exhibitions, which will tell both a composite and inclusive history of the region.” You can come to the public meeting July 29, maybe, and back me up as I propose an exhibit entitled “Sketchy Drug Dealers at Pony Pasture Through the Years.” Or you can stay home like a typical Richmonder, insisting to friends and neighbors that the Valentine is “wonderful, an absolute treasure,” yet never visiting. The input meeting starts at 6 p.m. Space may be limited. RSVP at 649-0711, ext. 333, and find out more at


It's Intermission Time, Folks!
Sure, it has all that green space, or rather, all those highly available overgrown lots, but doesn't Goochland County still seem a strange spot for a drive-in movie theater, in the sense that parking one's car out there must mean that one's made a conscious decision to stay more than a few unbearable minutes? And yet Goochland's Drive-In Theater seems to be thriving, and neither “Jonah Hex,” nor any lingering and likely disproportionate or misplaced nostalgia for Americana like drive-ins can explain the nightly crowds. Perhaps we ought to look to the far more real, explicable, powerful allure of cheap snow cones and cheese fries. See a schedule of shows at



Life's a Beach and Then You Fry.
We don't need environmental biologists or chemists to explain why Jersey beaches smell like urine and dead people. Likewise, there's no science behind the sweaty, hairy backed fat guy — the one seated inches away from you and your family — swigging Coors and screaming at his kids while they scamper over that glistening stretch of Virginia Beach mere steps from what must be the only Red Carpet Inn in the entire freaking country with rooms priced for more $200. Try telling that to the folks at the Science Museum of Virginia, though, who enthuse on their website that “beaches are so much more than just sunny spots for relaxation. ... They are dynamic ecosystems linking land, ocean and air” and have just opened an exhibit about it all. Ocean-side ecosystems, that is, not the Coors man.

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