The Roast of the Iron Sheik

I was recently asked by a fledgling, aspiring comedian friend to help write a roast in honor of washed-up wrestling semi-legend, and current D-list celebrity, the Iron Sheik.

I decided to skip the roast itself after pulling up to see that this was a standing room-only type of affair, filled with nothing but pathetic Iron Sheik fans.

Two hours later, I received a call from said fledgling, aspiring comedian friend, telling me that no more than five jokes into the set, the Iron Sheik physically attacked him and had to be restrained. The cue cards were destroyed. Boos were rained down, and food was thrown. Apparently it was a tribute dinner, NOT a roast.

Well, this was our 'tribute'...

I must say I’m honored to be here, lamping it up at this unprecedented engagement in recognition of the celebrity and athletic arts.

I’m just wondering, where are all the celebrities and athletes?

But really, I want to thank Page and Jian for inviting me to this little shindig.

Though I must confess, the last time I saw so many talentless, prospect-less losers gathered around together in one place, I’m pretty sure it was league bowling at the Salvation Army on leftovers night.

Easy there Sheik, I said “army”, not “pharmacy”.

Not that the Iron Sheik over here could discriminate between the two words.

You see, the Sheik never learned how to read.

And aside from forging countless doctors’ signatures on a litany of fake painkiller prescriptions, he never learned to write either.

But I think a lot of pro wrestlers can relate to that one, am I right?

Regardless, Iron Sheik, I remember growing up and watching you, thinking that you were the epitome of true champion. An icon.

Then I grew up.

He is a gold medalist, though.

Fool’s gold.

I mean, come on, the only authentic metal this man carries around is the low-grade steel of five hip-replacements barely stringing his frail body together.

Seriously, the state of this man’s rickety old bones make Mickey Rourke’s pounded-meat face in ‘The Wrestler’ look worthy of headlining the newest Nivea ad campaign.

Still, I think it is very honorable that Page and Jian are taking the opportunity to pay the proper respects to this historical superstar.

And I stress the word “historical”, because this guy’s older than dirt.

In fact, rumor has it the dinosaurs went extinct from having to sit through one of his so-called matches.

I swear, when the Iron Sheik wrestles, it’s so boring, the only way he can get people to watch is by slapping one of his signature camel clutches on them in front of their television sets.

But he has always known how to market himself. Especially in the 1980s, during the peak of the Cold War.

Back then, what growing boy wrestling fan couldn’t -- or wouldn’t -- want to relate to a hate-spewing Islamic fundamentalist?

There is that moustache, which some have described as the “perfect tool for cunnilingus”.

That is, if you are able to find a woman willing to have their pussy eaten by a pussy.

At least he hasn’t burned any bridges though, most especially not with Allah.

Which in Sheik language is pronounced “Vince McMahon”.

For real, Vince still takes care of the Sheik.

Much in the same manner a slop bucket takes care of a pig.

Page and Jian also take care of the Iron Sheik, like chauffeur him around.

Yeah, little known fact, the Sheik doesn’t drive.

That’s because he has nowhere to go.

Unless you count loitering around dumpsters at the back of Krispy Kreme shops, waiting on day-olds, as having "plans".

Too bad ‘Hacksaw’ Jim Duggan isn’t around to carpool, eh Sheik?

Where was the intended last stop on that little road trip anyway, Betty Ford or the grave?

Or just anywhere you could score?

No, there really is nobody quite like the Iron Sheik, Hulk Hogan’s self-professed “greatest enemy”…

… Sheik clearly overlooking the divorce courts of California.

Please, give it up for the Iran Monopoly Man.

Someone who has never had to rely on his instincts.

Why?

Because he just stinks.