Post by Jordan on Dec 18, 2021 1:56:40 GMT -5
Un-fuckin’-believable…
Ya get rid of me and what does it get ya? Absolutely nothin’ but a bunch of goddamn stagnation. You got Teo and Jenson giving up titles to everyone under the Sun, your other belt dragged around by some indie darling dickhead you tossed a rope ladder to in the middle of the ocean cause you were desperate for a fill-in, and usin’ Cass Adler on some cross brand bullshit just to try to move the needle on the 18-49 demo.
Say what ya will about Jim Mud, but at least CruiserClash looked like a show with an identity that could keep it worth watchin’, keep it above water. Whether we’re talkin’ active competition or sittin’ behind a desk, it doesn’t matter. A round of fuckin’ applause and gratitude is in order, because I know those hearts have grown fonder in my absence. Without me, there’s been nothin’ on this show. So much so, that ya almost got takin’ over by the cigarette guy.
He leans over a wooden front step railing and pushes a glob of spit and tobacco out into the grass below.
Now, I know I’m not reinventin’ the wheel with a rumble appearance. Obviously, there’s plenty of returns, greenhorn hopefuls, and the three or four middling names that make up the current CruiserClash roster, but maybe I don’t have to reinvent that wheel at all. Maybe…I just need to make it turn again. Ya know, remind people that it’s supposed to be round and not look like it belongs on a Flinstone footmobile.
Don’t worry, I know my presence is unwanted. I ain’t tryin’ to crawl in through the back door and beg for a job. Truth be told, I don’t need one and never did. Ink and paper is just that and in a situation like this, there ain’t shit stoppin’ me from enterin’ on my terms….but…why would Jim Mud want this match? I came, I saw, I shook the foundation of the show to its core and I fulfilled my commitment to Philidor by doin’ so. Mission accomplished..or is it?
The number one thing I always took pride in was bein’ able to make the rest of these bums miserable. I fed off that frustration and kept it goin’ as long as I did and made the moves that I did, because it was fun, cause I enjoy bein’ the bottom right corner of everyone’s little alignment charts. It ain’t much deeper than that. Still, as I see this brand’s neverending of bore and mediocrity, the thing that doesn’t sit well with me is that you’ve all become so comfortable.
When I first came to Action, there wasn’t one motherfucker like me and since I left, ain’t nobody came close to touchin’ my shit. It’s like everything that I did is bein’ slowly erased all ‘cause y’all either forgot what it was like to get a wad of Copenhagen shot into your fuckin’ eye sockets or you didn’t ever get a proper chance to experience it in the first place. That has to change and not just because I want a challenge, but because all of you standee-ass bitches need one to.
I could’ve stayed home and settled for sayin’ to Hell with this company since they were the ones who decided I wasn’t worth keepin’ around and I could’ve just lived out the rest of my life with so much money saved up I could pay some other asshole to wipe MY ass with it. It would’ve been safer, maybe even better that way, but who needs better in a world like this? Why fight against the meta when you can embrace and become it? They’ll paint me the villain, but I’ll be the painting as I should be.
The twangy, worn voice is picked up and translated into shitty audio with shaky video coming to life from a formerly obstructed lens view.
P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C, PATHETIC!
He leans over a wooden front step railing and pushes a glob of spit and tobacco out into the grass below.
Now, I know I’m not reinventin’ the wheel with a rumble appearance. Obviously, there’s plenty of returns, greenhorn hopefuls, and the three or four middling names that make up the current CruiserClash roster, but maybe I don’t have to reinvent that wheel at all. Maybe…I just need to make it turn again. Ya know, remind people that it’s supposed to be round and not look like it belongs on a Flinstone footmobile.
Don’t worry, I know my presence is unwanted. I ain’t tryin’ to crawl in through the back door and beg for a job. Truth be told, I don’t need one and never did. Ink and paper is just that and in a situation like this, there ain’t shit stoppin’ me from enterin’ on my terms….but…why would Jim Mud want this match? I came, I saw, I shook the foundation of the show to its core and I fulfilled my commitment to Philidor by doin’ so. Mission accomplished..or is it?
The number one thing I always took pride in was bein’ able to make the rest of these bums miserable. I fed off that frustration and kept it goin’ as long as I did and made the moves that I did, because it was fun, cause I enjoy bein’ the bottom right corner of everyone’s little alignment charts. It ain’t much deeper than that. Still, as I see this brand’s neverending of bore and mediocrity, the thing that doesn’t sit well with me is that you’ve all become so comfortable.
When I first came to Action, there wasn’t one motherfucker like me and since I left, ain’t nobody came close to touchin’ my shit. It’s like everything that I did is bein’ slowly erased all ‘cause y’all either forgot what it was like to get a wad of Copenhagen shot into your fuckin’ eye sockets or you didn’t ever get a proper chance to experience it in the first place. That has to change and not just because I want a challenge, but because all of you standee-ass bitches need one to.
I could’ve stayed home and settled for sayin’ to Hell with this company since they were the ones who decided I wasn’t worth keepin’ around and I could’ve just lived out the rest of my life with so much money saved up I could pay some other asshole to wipe MY ass with it. It would’ve been safer, maybe even better that way, but who needs better in a world like this? Why fight against the meta when you can embrace and become it? They’ll paint me the villain, but I’ll be the painting as I should be.
Vegas will be my county.
The Bellagio..my home.
That ring..that’s mine too.
Fuck CruiserHavoc..
Welcome to the Chiefhawk Rumble.