Post by Cassidy Adler on Mar 13, 2022 12:25:32 GMT -5
‘Let’s talk about development for a minute, since we got three stagnant losers stuck facing inevitable defeat against the man with the ever-growing schlong and personality, the Radler boi himself.
‘John Black been consistent since day one, that is, consistently fuckin’ terrible at doing anything except getting his shoulders pinned to the mat for a fat three count. They say the definition of insanity is… yadda yadda, John Black sucks dick at anything that isn’t hyping up his opponent and talking about how he’ll do his best to give them a fight, but will probably end up taking the L anyway.
‘Legit, go watch any of these mans “promotions” and you’ll realize that the only thing this guy is promoting is his imminent demise. I’d almost call it a “Black” comedy except this shit isn’t satire, this is really a bottom of the barrel scrub who isn’t just aware of it, but accepts it as a whole part of his personality and career. You’ll never hear this guy confidently say he’s ready to secure a W or a bag. The best he’ll give you is that he’ll punch you really hard and hopefully make you remember his name, like that shit means anything when your win/loss column is lookin’ like the red fuckin’ carpet.
‘But hey, at least that’s one red carpet you’d actually be able to walk on, huh? Because no-one out here is remembering a chump like you when you got the God of Grinding putting your ass down for all of A-Dub to see.
‘I remember us “competing” a few months ago, which I use loosely by the way, because calling that a competition would be disgracing everyone who’s ever had to lace up the boots and put their body through some form of physical punishment. And man, was listening to you talk one of the most cringe-inducing, sad, pathetic, cuck-boi things I ever had to witness. You legit just sucked me off for a few minutes and then basically said that you might win, but probably not, and that you don’t wanna talk bad about me because you “respect” me?
‘Are you fuckin’ insane?
‘I’m known for being the GOAT of self-awareness, so let’s take a minute to reflect.
‘John Black respects Cassidy Adler as a human being.
‘Goddamn are you fuckin’ dense, my guy.
‘That basically confirms it: you’ll be eating a pin from me at Battlebowl. Congratulations.
‘Onto the next of the equally inept, saddening “humans” who I will be sharing the honored squared circle with.
‘TJ! I like that, but I’ll call you Tee-Tee just because I know it’ll get that little bit under your skin. Not enough to really get you big mad or anything like that, but just enough to maybe make you slip up, because you’re the person who takes this shit way too goddamn seriously.
‘Listening to you drone on and on about heritage, about respect, about hard-work, dignity, the power of friendship, honor, giving it your al-god would you please shut the fuck up?
‘You’re the culmination of every dude and chick I slapped silly on Cruiserweight Clash. It’s so bad that I’m surprised you’re actually competing in a real person’s match, like, you know, actually on the main-card? The gimmickless, personality-devoid types are usually saved for something less important, like getting fed to the people they’re actually trying to build up on that bottom-feeder show, you know?
‘But I guess since your here, I might as well talk directly to you and crush your dreams of being the good ol’ hard-working vet that every fuckin’ nobody who spent half their lives crushing cans and working out in a grimy, smelly-ass gym seem to want to make it as in the big leagues.
‘Tell me, how many of your type have become World Champions in AW?
‘How many do you see filming dead-ass, repetitive, insignificant promos talking about meaningless shit like yourself? Nobody cares about how much you like being buddies with Holden, or how you think he’s super cool and talented and how you would never do anything to tear apart your epic, awesome, lovely friendship.
‘Because even if you did, nobody would give a fuck. Honestly.
‘I’m not even really saying this shit to hurt you, though if I’m being real, I really couldn’t care less whether it did break your little heart or not. Because real talk, Tee-Tee, you don’t really matter to me. You ain’t a threat, nor is your goody-two-shoes act. I’m just here giving you the real advice that nobody else will, because the only time people care about the heroes is when they got a real villain to fight against, and someone like me? That real bad guy you’re looking for? Would never, EVER consider using you as the martyr to really get the crowd going, to REALLY make them loathe me.
‘Because I got snap your leg in half and make sure you never set foot in the ring again, and sure, maybe a few incels and your fam in Canada would be a little sad, but nobody else would even recognise you’re gone.
‘You ever heard the phrase “you’re like part of the furniture here?”
‘Of course not, because at best you're a rental, and at worst (and believe me, you really are the worst!) you’re a placeholder on the floor plan. You know, the one thing on the sheet marked with a big question mark that stands for: “Why is she here and who do we replace her with?”
“I will say one thing though, and this is something I can’t say for many: you have a SUPER punchable face and your attitude makes it even worse. If you could somehow market yourself around that aspect of your otherwise pathetic character, I think I’d be down to maybe have a word with Uncle Tort about using you as feeder talent for some of the future mid-carders around here. Get back to the drawing board and really think hard about those good-guy catchphrases I’m sure you dreamed about coming up with while you were scrapping it out with nobodies in the C-leagues.
‘With enough luck, maybe you’ll be opening the shows I’ll be main-eventing when I’m World Champion after Evolution! Keep up the grind, sister!
‘And to round out the trifecta of miserable fucks who are gonna get absolutebly embarassed by ya boi, Mr. Kidsgrove, welcome on stage!
‘Ah, did you hear that? The sobbing of young fans and the mildly annoyed groans of the older generations as they realize they got the epitome of vanilla, cardboard cut-out actor dude stepping on stage to ruin a movie they thought was actually gonna be enjoyable. For shame, Samuel! And to think you were meant to be a figure of respect back in the day.
‘Now you’re just some desperate dude lookin’ for the fresh start, only to realize that unfortunately, you’re not the right man for this… part. Like the rhyme?
‘Because when we’re talking fresh stars, we mean bringing something new to the table, Sammy boi. You should get it, right? Since you’re supposedly one of the big bois when it comes to the show business, yet you never seem to change your formula. You’re Leonardo DiCaprio pulling the same expression every time his characters meant to get mad on screen, you’re the relief pitcher whose only got the fastball, you’re… Sam Kidsgrove in his 87th year of professional wrestling, still nowhere near winning the big one, still nowhere near coming at anyone with even some mild heat, still with zero bite to his shoot as he slowly becomes a bitter vet with nothing left to offer the game that has given him so little in return.
‘See, Sammy? This is what is called “spitting facts”.
‘For someone whose main line of working is getting into character, god you’re fuckin’ terrible at reading between any sort of lines or understanding anything that isn’t surface level. Maybe that’s why when you read of a script, people immediately know it’s you without even needing to see your face. Because there’s zero emotion, zero nuance, and zero interest.
‘You read the Sparknotes for one random Clash and thought “oh look, Lissie dumped Cassidy, he must be really upset!”
‘My man, if you knew anything, you’d know that I never ‘had’ her in the first place, because I didn’t want her. It’s called making use of your assets, and you’re lookin’ at the king of playing that game.
‘But you’re probably sitting there on your high-horse right now thinking, “Ha… ha!” (you say out loud in your best impersonation of a laugh, because you’re a fuckin’ robotic actor even at the best of times, it’s impressive you’ve somehow fooled people into thinking you’re an actual functioning human with the way you speak) “Cassidy is upset that I don’t know the nuances of his story! I have some leverage on him!”
‘No, you fuckin’ idiot. I’m saying this because you’re the same dude who spent more time during our match against the Swallowing talking about how you were worried about what I was gonna bring to the table. How you gonna be so focused on ya boy and then fail to know even the most basic of facts about me?
‘It’s because that’s what you do best, Sam. You wing it. You won’t admit it, but you’ll never put more than the bare minimum in. Phoning it in isn’t something that happens with you, because that’s just your basic mode of operation. That’s a regular day in the office for you.
‘Which is why it’s absolutely fuckin’ hilarious when you sit there with a straight face and try to tell people that you’re coming into this year like a hungry lion, like you’re trying to fight for some reputation you think you’ve lost or some mode of savagery that you think you lost due to complacency or success or whatever. Because even though you say that? You’re still the exact same dude, just in a slightly different font. Being slightly self-aware that you’re a useless sack of shit that’s sitting on a record that makes the Orlando Magic look like they’re a respectable basketball team doesn’t mean that you’ve all of a sudden become a new man who’ll achieve something. It just means you’re shit, but you’re a little more aware of it than you used to be. So congratulations for that! Three cheers for Sammy.
‘It’s cute, man. It really is. You’re trying to reestablish your “good” name, trying to prove all those naysayers wrong, show them that you aren’t “past it”.
‘But the truth is my guy? You were never really up there to begin with. And try as you like, you’re still the equivalent of the white boy throwing a little salt on his plain ass chicken and calling it seasoning.
‘Still bland.
‘Still disappointing.
‘And still a complete loser who’s gonna get postered by ya boi Cass at Battlebowl.
‘Welp, you know what they say, Sammy boi!
‘It sucks to suck.’
He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually trained.
It had been a running gag back in the day when he and his sister were on good terms, that they’d go to the gym and film a promotion while he lifted the most pathetic of weights, all for comedic value.
Jokes were jokes, and he had made plenty of them in his time.
But as the looming presence of Havoc began to fall over the Action Wrestling landscape, something had changed. It wasn’t like other years.
Maybe it was the mountain of his older brother’s and father’s reputation and success that he felt he had to climb up, one step at a time.
Or maybe it was the anchor named Olivia Adler that threatened to drag him underneath the waves.
Either way, today marked a milestone.
He strapped on his gloves.
And he trained.
‘John Black been consistent since day one, that is, consistently fuckin’ terrible at doing anything except getting his shoulders pinned to the mat for a fat three count. They say the definition of insanity is… yadda yadda, John Black sucks dick at anything that isn’t hyping up his opponent and talking about how he’ll do his best to give them a fight, but will probably end up taking the L anyway.
‘Legit, go watch any of these mans “promotions” and you’ll realize that the only thing this guy is promoting is his imminent demise. I’d almost call it a “Black” comedy except this shit isn’t satire, this is really a bottom of the barrel scrub who isn’t just aware of it, but accepts it as a whole part of his personality and career. You’ll never hear this guy confidently say he’s ready to secure a W or a bag. The best he’ll give you is that he’ll punch you really hard and hopefully make you remember his name, like that shit means anything when your win/loss column is lookin’ like the red fuckin’ carpet.
‘But hey, at least that’s one red carpet you’d actually be able to walk on, huh? Because no-one out here is remembering a chump like you when you got the God of Grinding putting your ass down for all of A-Dub to see.
‘I remember us “competing” a few months ago, which I use loosely by the way, because calling that a competition would be disgracing everyone who’s ever had to lace up the boots and put their body through some form of physical punishment. And man, was listening to you talk one of the most cringe-inducing, sad, pathetic, cuck-boi things I ever had to witness. You legit just sucked me off for a few minutes and then basically said that you might win, but probably not, and that you don’t wanna talk bad about me because you “respect” me?
‘Are you fuckin’ insane?
‘I’m known for being the GOAT of self-awareness, so let’s take a minute to reflect.
‘John Black respects Cassidy Adler as a human being.
‘Goddamn are you fuckin’ dense, my guy.
‘That basically confirms it: you’ll be eating a pin from me at Battlebowl. Congratulations.
‘Onto the next of the equally inept, saddening “humans” who I will be sharing the honored squared circle with.
‘TJ! I like that, but I’ll call you Tee-Tee just because I know it’ll get that little bit under your skin. Not enough to really get you big mad or anything like that, but just enough to maybe make you slip up, because you’re the person who takes this shit way too goddamn seriously.
‘Listening to you drone on and on about heritage, about respect, about hard-work, dignity, the power of friendship, honor, giving it your al-god would you please shut the fuck up?
‘You’re the culmination of every dude and chick I slapped silly on Cruiserweight Clash. It’s so bad that I’m surprised you’re actually competing in a real person’s match, like, you know, actually on the main-card? The gimmickless, personality-devoid types are usually saved for something less important, like getting fed to the people they’re actually trying to build up on that bottom-feeder show, you know?
‘But I guess since your here, I might as well talk directly to you and crush your dreams of being the good ol’ hard-working vet that every fuckin’ nobody who spent half their lives crushing cans and working out in a grimy, smelly-ass gym seem to want to make it as in the big leagues.
‘Tell me, how many of your type have become World Champions in AW?
‘How many do you see filming dead-ass, repetitive, insignificant promos talking about meaningless shit like yourself? Nobody cares about how much you like being buddies with Holden, or how you think he’s super cool and talented and how you would never do anything to tear apart your epic, awesome, lovely friendship.
‘Because even if you did, nobody would give a fuck. Honestly.
‘I’m not even really saying this shit to hurt you, though if I’m being real, I really couldn’t care less whether it did break your little heart or not. Because real talk, Tee-Tee, you don’t really matter to me. You ain’t a threat, nor is your goody-two-shoes act. I’m just here giving you the real advice that nobody else will, because the only time people care about the heroes is when they got a real villain to fight against, and someone like me? That real bad guy you’re looking for? Would never, EVER consider using you as the martyr to really get the crowd going, to REALLY make them loathe me.
‘Because I got snap your leg in half and make sure you never set foot in the ring again, and sure, maybe a few incels and your fam in Canada would be a little sad, but nobody else would even recognise you’re gone.
‘You ever heard the phrase “you’re like part of the furniture here?”
‘Of course not, because at best you're a rental, and at worst (and believe me, you really are the worst!) you’re a placeholder on the floor plan. You know, the one thing on the sheet marked with a big question mark that stands for: “Why is she here and who do we replace her with?”
“I will say one thing though, and this is something I can’t say for many: you have a SUPER punchable face and your attitude makes it even worse. If you could somehow market yourself around that aspect of your otherwise pathetic character, I think I’d be down to maybe have a word with Uncle Tort about using you as feeder talent for some of the future mid-carders around here. Get back to the drawing board and really think hard about those good-guy catchphrases I’m sure you dreamed about coming up with while you were scrapping it out with nobodies in the C-leagues.
‘With enough luck, maybe you’ll be opening the shows I’ll be main-eventing when I’m World Champion after Evolution! Keep up the grind, sister!
‘And to round out the trifecta of miserable fucks who are gonna get absolutebly embarassed by ya boi, Mr. Kidsgrove, welcome on stage!
‘Ah, did you hear that? The sobbing of young fans and the mildly annoyed groans of the older generations as they realize they got the epitome of vanilla, cardboard cut-out actor dude stepping on stage to ruin a movie they thought was actually gonna be enjoyable. For shame, Samuel! And to think you were meant to be a figure of respect back in the day.
‘Now you’re just some desperate dude lookin’ for the fresh start, only to realize that unfortunately, you’re not the right man for this… part. Like the rhyme?
‘Because when we’re talking fresh stars, we mean bringing something new to the table, Sammy boi. You should get it, right? Since you’re supposedly one of the big bois when it comes to the show business, yet you never seem to change your formula. You’re Leonardo DiCaprio pulling the same expression every time his characters meant to get mad on screen, you’re the relief pitcher whose only got the fastball, you’re… Sam Kidsgrove in his 87th year of professional wrestling, still nowhere near winning the big one, still nowhere near coming at anyone with even some mild heat, still with zero bite to his shoot as he slowly becomes a bitter vet with nothing left to offer the game that has given him so little in return.
‘See, Sammy? This is what is called “spitting facts”.
‘For someone whose main line of working is getting into character, god you’re fuckin’ terrible at reading between any sort of lines or understanding anything that isn’t surface level. Maybe that’s why when you read of a script, people immediately know it’s you without even needing to see your face. Because there’s zero emotion, zero nuance, and zero interest.
‘You read the Sparknotes for one random Clash and thought “oh look, Lissie dumped Cassidy, he must be really upset!”
‘My man, if you knew anything, you’d know that I never ‘had’ her in the first place, because I didn’t want her. It’s called making use of your assets, and you’re lookin’ at the king of playing that game.
‘But you’re probably sitting there on your high-horse right now thinking, “Ha… ha!” (you say out loud in your best impersonation of a laugh, because you’re a fuckin’ robotic actor even at the best of times, it’s impressive you’ve somehow fooled people into thinking you’re an actual functioning human with the way you speak) “Cassidy is upset that I don’t know the nuances of his story! I have some leverage on him!”
‘No, you fuckin’ idiot. I’m saying this because you’re the same dude who spent more time during our match against the Swallowing talking about how you were worried about what I was gonna bring to the table. How you gonna be so focused on ya boy and then fail to know even the most basic of facts about me?
‘It’s because that’s what you do best, Sam. You wing it. You won’t admit it, but you’ll never put more than the bare minimum in. Phoning it in isn’t something that happens with you, because that’s just your basic mode of operation. That’s a regular day in the office for you.
‘Which is why it’s absolutely fuckin’ hilarious when you sit there with a straight face and try to tell people that you’re coming into this year like a hungry lion, like you’re trying to fight for some reputation you think you’ve lost or some mode of savagery that you think you lost due to complacency or success or whatever. Because even though you say that? You’re still the exact same dude, just in a slightly different font. Being slightly self-aware that you’re a useless sack of shit that’s sitting on a record that makes the Orlando Magic look like they’re a respectable basketball team doesn’t mean that you’ve all of a sudden become a new man who’ll achieve something. It just means you’re shit, but you’re a little more aware of it than you used to be. So congratulations for that! Three cheers for Sammy.
‘It’s cute, man. It really is. You’re trying to reestablish your “good” name, trying to prove all those naysayers wrong, show them that you aren’t “past it”.
‘But the truth is my guy? You were never really up there to begin with. And try as you like, you’re still the equivalent of the white boy throwing a little salt on his plain ass chicken and calling it seasoning.
‘Still bland.
‘Still disappointing.
‘And still a complete loser who’s gonna get postered by ya boi Cass at Battlebowl.
‘Welp, you know what they say, Sammy boi!
‘It sucks to suck.’
He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually trained.
It had been a running gag back in the day when he and his sister were on good terms, that they’d go to the gym and film a promotion while he lifted the most pathetic of weights, all for comedic value.
Jokes were jokes, and he had made plenty of them in his time.
But as the looming presence of Havoc began to fall over the Action Wrestling landscape, something had changed. It wasn’t like other years.
Maybe it was the mountain of his older brother’s and father’s reputation and success that he felt he had to climb up, one step at a time.
Or maybe it was the anchor named Olivia Adler that threatened to drag him underneath the waves.
Either way, today marked a milestone.
He strapped on his gloves.
And he trained.