Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [36]
Another rule I had was that during the radio interviews I refused to talk about wrestling. If someone asked I’d just say, “I don’t know anything about American pro wrestling. But I’ll tell you all you need to know about Japanese sumo wrestling.” It was like when Will Ferrell went on Conan O’Brien as Robert Goulet, just not as funny or as welcome. I was pissing people off and burning more bridges than Francis Ford Coppola during the making of Apocalypse Now.
The last stop on the radio tour was The Opie and Anthony Show, hosted by two no-nonsense shock jocks who did not want to play along. They became quite upset that they couldn’t get me to admit that I was Chris Jericho.
“Come on! Just tell us you’re Chris Jericho! Come on!”
“No, no, no. I’m Moongoose McQueen.”
“Okay, Moonjuice or whatever it is you’re calling yourself. This is not funny.”
I wouldn’t budge.
“All right, Moosejuice. What’s Lita like? Have you seen her in the shower?”
“Yeah, we’ve seen Lita Ford in the shower plenty of times. She’s pretty hot.”
We’d do anything we could do to redirect the conversation back to Fozzy. They finally threw up their hands and gave up, frustrated that they had wasted their time on such a stupid concept. They were about to ask us to leave when the whole appearance was rescued by an unlikely savior: Andrew Dice Clay.
Dice was guest-hosting the show and seemed very confused by what he was witnessing. He had no idea who Fozzy was, who Chris Jericho was, and I’m not quite sure he knew who Opie or Anthony were for that matter. He sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face as I kept saying, “We’ve been in Japan for twenty years and now we’re back to reclaim what’s ours. I’m Moongoose McQueen! Enough about this Jericho guy already.”
Opie said confrontationally, “Listen, no one cares about Fozzy. We had you in here because we care about the WWE and Chris Jericho.”
“Sorry, but I don’t know what the WWE is. I’m the singer of Fozzy.”
Dice finally piped in. “Listen,” he said, “who is this guy? Is he a wrestluh or is he a singuh?”
I said, “Dice, I’m a singer.”
“Well, get off his case then … he’s a singuh.”
Suddenly, in one fell cigarette puff, it was now Moongoose and the Diceman vs. Opie and Anthony.
Dice got really into what I was saying and became my hype man. When I mentioned that if you look at our songs chronologically, you could see they were recorded before the other bands released their versions, Dice backed me up by saying, “Listen, he must have a pretty good band if they do all those dance moves. You a good dancuh?”
“Dice, I’m the best dancer,” I replied, not exactly sure what he was talking about. It took me a few minutes to realize he had confused the word “chronologically” with the word “choreography.”
“I like his aviatuh shades. I like his leopardskin vest. He’s talkin’ about all the dance moves he can do. I like this guy, give this guy some respect! As a mattuh of fact, I think we should do a show together. You do some of yuh dancin’ and singin’ and I’ll tell some jokes! Hey-ohh, it’ll be huge!”
I’m still not sure if Dice was in character, really confused, or really stoned. Maybe all of the above. But it didn’t matter, because the two of us took a shit segment and turned it into comedy gold. Any way you slice it ( Asylum ), the combination of Dice and Goose kicked O and A’s ass that day and left them in shock.
However I’m still waiting for Dice’s call so we can book that show of ours.
The next stop on the promo tour was Toronto, where the band was garnering some interest. The first show we did was a sports talk show called Off the Record. It was a panel discussion show, and joining me was an up-and-coming singer named Pink. Once again I stayed completely in character and committed to being a total asshole. She was really nice until I started barraging her with insults.
She had a mild resemblance to Annie Lennox, which prompted