----The infamous Phil Mushnick always has strong words for Vince McMahon and he didn't disappoint us here.
June 29, 2007 -- LOOK what it has taken for the news media to finally begin to report that Vince McMahon has been operating a death mill the past 25 years.
Look what it took for the news media to finally learn and report that McMahon produces a TV show that regularly features physically fit and soon-to-be dead young men.
It didn't take one death, or even 20, for the media to finally wake up. Hell, pro wrestlers have been steadily dying young since the early 1980s, when McMahon began to rule the industry.
And it didn't take Monday's suicide of a McMahon-made star, Chris Benoit. It took three deaths in one weekend in one home; it took Benoit's murder of his son and wife for modern pro wrestling to finally be stamped with a skull-and-crossbones caution label.
Hell, Brian Pillman died at 35; Louie Spiccoli was 27; Chris Candido was 33. For all the drugs Eddie Guerrero relied on to become one of McMahon's champs, it was miraculous he made it to 38.
"Ravishing" Rick Rude was 41; "The British Bulldog," Davey Boy Smith, was 39. Curt Henning, "Mr. Perfect," died at 44. "Road Warrior Hawk" made it to 45, which can be like 85 in pro-wrestling years.
Given cartoon names, they were real people. They are among the most renowned pro wrestlers who died young - just since 1995. There are dozens more from where they came from, and wound up. None of their deaths made for big, nationwide news.
Uppers in the morning, painkillers at night, juice in between to sustain those massive physiques, the kind the industry has demanded and rewarded since McMahon took over. That's the regimen. You wanna be a TV star, don't you?
But the media only went for the fun stuff, helping McMahon promote "Wrestlemania" or Donald Trump's made-for-pay-per-view feud with McMahon.
Until Monday, and since McMahon became king, pro-wrestling deaths would occur only one at a time. No big deal. If you've ignored one, you can ignore them all. Even during the drug trial that led to the conviction and imprisonment of the WWE's McMahon-appointed doctor, McMahon, himself a former steroid user, escaped media inspection.
Until this week, the only sudden, premature death of a pro wrestler that caused a national stir came in 1999, when Owen Hart died what in pro wrestling relativity constituted a natural death. He didn't drop dead; he was dropped dead, from the rafters in a pay-per-view skit-too-far.
Hart's death made big news. For two days. Sure, it did. He died a spectacular, public death. Wrestlers dying in a hotel room, prescription bottles on the night table, don't make noise or news, even if the deceased did perform on TV the night before.
But there was no ducking this one. Benoit, 40, wasn't just a current, excessively muscled WWE star; he didn't die solo. He also killed his wife and kid. Three deaths at once; that's tough to ignore. And steroids were found. Naturally.
So this one made news. And, for the first time, the news media began to note a pattern: Pro wrestlers do drugs, go crazy and die young. Well, whattya know.
Monday night, in the midst of a plot in which he was supposed to have been murdered, McMahon knew exactly what to do. He replaced that night's USA Network show with a Benoit memorial. McMahon's best ratings have been generated by tribute shows following the sudden, real deaths of his performers. He cashes in on these guys coming and going.
And aside from a news media that are just now waking up to McMahon - in addition to the deaths, his WWE TV shows rely on fringe pornography that's in large part aimed at kids and teens - McMahon has long been enabled by friends in very high places.
Lowell Weicker, a former governor and senator from Connecticut, where the WWE is headquartered, is a major WWE stockholder and sits on its board of directors. Weicker also serves as president of the board of Trust for America's Health, a health policy research group. Hmmm.
Then there's Dick Ebersol, head of NBC and USA Network sports, who has long been in McMahon's corner, both as a business partner and buddy. It was Ebersol who turned NBC over to McMahon in the form of the XFL, an obscene blend of pro football and WWE that also died young, but from embarrassment.
Joe Lieberman, the senator from Connecticut who has famously targeted the entertainment industry for its reliance on garbage - especially when thrown at kids - helped fund his last campaign with donations from the McMahon family.
Then there are big shots such as Trump, happy to throw in with McMahon for all the attention they can generate together.
When Congress subpoenas MLB about steroids, that's huge news, as it should be. But imagine if every season four or five big-league players died drug-related, performance-related and institution-related deaths. Well, it happens in pro wrestling.
Imagine if there were a long-running, scripted TV series in which recurring characters kept dropping dead, for real, in their 20s, 30s and 40s. That would be the most scandalous story in TV history. But it has been happening in pro wrestling.
Pro wrestling manufactures death. And the guy who owns and operates the biggest factory, the boss who sets the standards, is Vince McMahon. And, though it took 25 years and the deaths this week of Chris Benoit, his wife and son, the media are finally beginning to notice.
phil.mushnick@nypost.com from New York Post
