Black Saturday, Boss. It's been quite a ride. And you think it ended on July 14, 1984?

Do you think it just began? Well, I would guess then it just began.

And when we last left you here as we embark upon the final installment of the Lapsd Van's definitive

coverage of this incredibly consequential night in wrestling history, the old cowboy, Bill

Watts, from down in Oklahoma. The tumbleweed was rolling and he had a thing

to say about how this was going to all shake out. So we'll throw him in the mix. We'll throw a little Jim Crockett in the mix. We'll throw a little I don't know grill

monsoon some Tito Montana. Tito Santana. Sure. End of the mix and by the time

we're done I think we're going to figure out the tentacles of what Black Saturday ended at

meaning in terms of how the wrestling were evolved in the 80s and how it came to the

conclusion it came to. Is there any other way? Really? Well, there is one other way.

You got to do it after cracking open an honest can of Pappst.

Oh, fuck yeah.

Because this is a journey that would not have been possible with other lubrication of the choice beer of Laps fan solar

system members, the choice beer of anybody who does not take themselves too

seriously. You call, you can call it Black Saturday, you can also call it

libation Saturday that's

fucking Saturday is even better look at that lay it down brilliant boss they're not

they're not playing around as we head into the holiday season absolutely not

they know what they're fucking doing over there.

All right? That's you know PAPS is the Christmas gift that keeps on giving.

That's right. It goes nicely with an ugly Christmas sweater appears perfectly dear I say with such and

very proud to have their support this year and beyond because them as a sponsor

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