Post by Tatiana on Sept 11, 2022 10:02:45 GMT -5
#MakeWrestlingWrestlingAgain
Wake up folks, our industry is in despair. It’s full of liars, cheats, con-artists and snake oil sales people. It’s fallen victim to this social media fueled era, the microwave daydreams of Gen Z and the unhinged need to be ‘trendy’ or to get that stupid ‘this is awesome’ chant. This business has become more of a performance art than an actual wrestling competition… And those who can do big flips, or are stupid enough to throw themselves into a dumpster full of lightbulbs are the ones who get the push - all while the ones who ACTUALLY know how to wrestle are shackled to the mid-card.
Success is all about consumerism and taking dumb risks. Being a tool who bends a knee to the idiots who think wrestling is a show rather than a competition is the fast track to the top - to hell with actual skill or merit.
How do I know that the top spots are inhabited by corporate clowns and stupid gimmicks? That’s simple - when Dandy DiVito was champ, I challenged him to a NON-TITLE cage match. Not with an eye to occupy a PPV headline, not for any championship aspirations or even a pay day - hell, I would’ve been HAPPY to have it on a house show.
But what happened?
Not only did AW not even air my challenge to their protected champion
But DiVito showed his yellow stripe by refusing any match against me.
Why?
And AFTER I beat his ass all over the cage, everyone would have had to stop and rethink the status-quo around here. If somebody they constantly hold down and subjugate were to beat the champion in such a big match - then maybe there might be some flaws in the hierarchy? So instead, they keep those like myself, Bryan Blaze, and the Heritage down - not because we’re useless… But because they’re so afraid to upset the apple cart that they’ll do anything to protect those at the top.
So they dangle the occasional carrot to us to keep us on par.
Well… I can tell you that we’re pissed off. We’re frustrated. And we’re sick and tired of being treated like second-class citizens in this place.
I could give a damn about your superstars.
I’m not impressed by Angelo
I’m not awed by Corey Black
I’m not fooled by Lissie Hope
Or charmed by Jon Bacchus
I’m not intimidated by Dandy Divito
Because I can out-work, out-perform, and outclass everyone one of them in a sterile/unbiased environment on ANY day of the week.
You try to be this weirdly edgy or… maybe intimidating(?)... presence in this federation.
You frame your promos in some grandiose fashion and talk like we’re all about to hear the trumpets blare as Armageddon bares down upon us.
Cool….
I don’t give a damn what you think you are, or how you couch your words. To me, you’re just another run of the mill pretty girl trying to be some edgy badass in the land of generic bitches. You’re a figment of your own imagination - another one of these idiots who didn’t actually bother to learn how to wrestle DESPITE being a second generation superstar.
And for you… That’s almost unforgivable - Especially since you’ve been in the business long enough to have had at least accidentally learned something about wrestling.
And on Monday Night Clash, you’re going to step into the ring with somebody of your own era who actually bothered to work on her wrestling. Somebody who was busy working the ropes, taking the bumps, and paying her dues while you were busy riding daddy’s coattails… You wanna talk about legacy as a second generation wrestler? Well that’s something you’ve failed to achieve in a 20+ year career - not because you haven’t had the world handed to you on a silver platter
But rather because you’ve squandered all of that for the sake of vanity.
Hellfyre?
More like Fyre Festival
You’re a phony, a fraud, a fake.
A dumb plastic bitch riding a dead legacy all the way to the bank…
Alexandra Callaway… Underflaker… Pumpkin Tits… Whatever you’re trying to sell as a gimmick… Don’t even bother bringing that trash to the ring with you on Monday Night Clash, because I’m not buying it.
And I’m sure as hell not gonna be selling it.
Well Monday Night Clash is make or break, babe.
You’re about to come face to face with the anti-hero. You’re about to encounter the most technical, precise, and dangerous grappler in this federation… And unfortunately for you - she’s pissed off.
“So what’s the plan for Clash?”
My friend and business manager Ruby Goldhirsch spoke up as we sat across from one another in the limo ride toward the Kraft Mayo Arena… What kind of a corporate name is that anyway? I wondered… Surely Kraft has plenty of other products they could have used when they bought the name rights to this place?
Hamburger Helper Stadium?
Wait…. Is that a Kraft product?
Eh… I guess it’s ‘Bama
They think incest is a cool family activity here
Can’t expect them to be good at product placement
“The plan is to go out there and beat the ever-loving piss out of Alexis Callaway”
“Alexandra… You mean?”
“Whatever… It doesn’t really matter what she calls herself. I’m going to hurt her either way”
My eyes remained on the tinted glass window, gazing out across the cityscape as we made our way along Highway 29. To be honest, I was starting to get tired of this shit… The ups and downs - the hopes of finally breaking through followed by the stark reality of my predicament. To me, this was just another match that was inconsequential to my overall standing in AW… I mean Callaway was a faux-cunt living off of daddy’s namesake - but that was why she was valued over somebody like me.
And no amount of words could change that…
“Hurt her? As in?”
Ruby questioned my motives with a pensive tone… There was an unwritten rule in this business that you always tried to avoid seriously injuring your opponents. Even in a combat sport where the main goal was to bludgeon and brutalize your opponent into submission - it was understood that we all had to go home at the end of the day to our real lives.
And once you get a reputation for being unsafe…
Federations tend to shy away from booking you.
“As in twist her vapid little ass into a pretzel, make her scream for her daddy… And then have her admit that I’m her fucking daddy now”
“Aggressive…”
She responded with a bit of a chuckle.
“If she’s a good girl, I might even pull her hair a little”
I replied with a little grin right back at her
“I know you think she’s just some run of the mill flier… But it’s important to remember that she’s been in this business for almost as long as you have. Sure, you’ve had fundamentally different paths… But she’s sure to know a few tricks.”
She is a fucking trick…
“You can’t expect her to just roll her over”
“I never claimed I’d roll her… I said I’d twist her into a pretzel, dip her in cheese and then feed her to the pigs”
“Well that’s awfully descriptive…”
Pigs, dogs, the fans… It didn't really make much of a difference. The truth is that I didn’t necessarily have anything personal against Alexandra Callaway - we’ve never had any real beef backstage and never really built any personal grift with one another. But she was the next in line to face me after my humiliating defeat in the TV Title match… And I was still REALLY pissed off about that
“Is her dad really who she claims he is?”
“As far as I know, yes. But you’re not facing the deadman on Clash. You’re facing Alexandra… And we’ve still got that unhinged ballbag Mason Jones lurking in the shadows”
Oh right… Mason Jones
Pffft… He got what he deserved for screwing me over in the first place
Fuck him.
“Let him show his face. I’ll break his head open again”
“I’m not worried about your ability to handle either Jones or Callaway. Just about whether or not Jones shows up and screws us out of another win.”
She was always so forthright… And I suppose it was her job to be. I knew we had the numbers advantage with Providence - however it was 50/50 as to whether or not they’d be barred from ringside for the match and thus disallowed to help me out if this were to become an ambush.
I couldn’t worry about prospective outcomes…
That was out of my control
All I could do was focus on the match and adlib as needed.
“It’s not about Mason either way… If you see something dodgy, then give me a shout and I’ll deal with it. Otherwise, my focus is on brutalizing Alexandra and trying to actually get a god-damned win for a change”
“Make wrestling, wrestling again?”
Ruby quipped with a teasing tone as I gave her the hairy eyeball
“Relax… I’m teasing”
She spoke up once again, crossing her legs and folding her hands into her lap. We were both dressed to impress, except I had my wrestling gear in the trunk and would be changing for this match as soon as we made it to the building
“Once we get to the building, I’ll call B.B and the boys. We’ll get together and talk about strategy… In the meantime, you focus solely on Alexandra. I’ll worry about the rest.”
I nodded in approval
“You’re the boss…. Boss”
At least until the bell sounded to open up Clash…
Then it was all about me taking HellFyre to the festival of defeat.
Wake up folks, our industry is in despair. It’s full of liars, cheats, con-artists and snake oil sales people. It’s fallen victim to this social media fueled era, the microwave daydreams of Gen Z and the unhinged need to be ‘trendy’ or to get that stupid ‘this is awesome’ chant. This business has become more of a performance art than an actual wrestling competition… And those who can do big flips, or are stupid enough to throw themselves into a dumpster full of lightbulbs are the ones who get the push - all while the ones who ACTUALLY know how to wrestle are shackled to the mid-card.
THIS - IS - STUPID
-clap clap clapclapclap-
You don’t need formal training or any real talent to be a success in this industry anymore. All you need is a big set of fake tits, some vapid gimmick - and the ability to either show your vagina off on twitter… Or the idiotic desire to set your face on fire and jump off a building for a pop.
OMG WHAT A SHOW!
JOHNNY HAS FLIPPED HIS HAIR AND SAID SOMETHING EDGY!
HOLY SHIT ANGELO HAS SUCKED SOME BIG DICK BACKSTAGE AGAIN!
OH WOW THIS GUY IS A CHEAP CLOWN GIMMICK!
WHOA DANDY SAID A BAD WORD!
NEAT! SHE HAS A NICE VAGINA ON THIS WEBSITE!
Success is all about consumerism and taking dumb risks. Being a tool who bends a knee to the idiots who think wrestling is a show rather than a competition is the fast track to the top - to hell with actual skill or merit.
Yeah, I’m talking about YOU
Yes… YOU… Anyone listening to this right now.
If you’re offended by my words, this is about YOU
How do I know that the top spots are inhabited by corporate clowns and stupid gimmicks? That’s simple - when Dandy DiVito was champ, I challenged him to a NON-TITLE cage match. Not with an eye to occupy a PPV headline, not for any championship aspirations or even a pay day - hell, I would’ve been HAPPY to have it on a house show.
But what happened?
Not only did AW not even air my challenge to their protected champion
But DiVito showed his yellow stripe by refusing any match against me.
Why?
Because they knew, he knew… And most everyone else knows that I’m a better wrestler than that schmuck will ever be
So they dangle the occasional carrot to us to keep us on par.
Oh, here’s a TV Title shot - PSYCHE!
Oh, here’s a tag title shot - PSYCHE!
Oh, here’s a CBS title shot - PSYCHE!
Well… I can tell you that we’re pissed off. We’re frustrated. And we’re sick and tired of being treated like second-class citizens in this place.
I could give a damn about your superstars.
I’m not impressed by Angelo
I’m not awed by Corey Black
I’m not fooled by Lissie Hope
Or charmed by Jon Bacchus
I’m not intimidated by Dandy Divito
Because I can out-work, out-perform, and outclass everyone one of them in a sterile/unbiased environment on ANY day of the week.
Which brings me to the next point of interest…
My opponent for the curtain jerker of Monday Night Clash - Alexandra Callaway…
My opponent for the curtain jerker of Monday Night Clash - Alexandra Callaway…
Okay, so let’s just stop for a second and ask the question…
What the hell is your deal anyway? You try to be this weirdly edgy or… maybe intimidating(?)... presence in this federation.
You frame your promos in some grandiose fashion and talk like we’re all about to hear the trumpets blare as Armageddon bares down upon us.
Cool….
I don’t give a damn what you think you are, or how you couch your words. To me, you’re just another run of the mill pretty girl trying to be some edgy badass in the land of generic bitches. You’re a figment of your own imagination - another one of these idiots who didn’t actually bother to learn how to wrestle DESPITE being a second generation superstar.
Instead opting for the easier path of a generic high flier.
You think your lineage makes you special?
It doesn’t.
You think your style is unique?
It’s not.
You think anyone fears you
They don’t
But rather because you’ve squandered all of that for the sake of vanity.
Hellfyre?
More like Fyre Festival
You’re a phony, a fraud, a fake.
A dumb plastic bitch riding a dead legacy all the way to the bank…
Alexandra Callaway… Underflaker… Pumpkin Tits… Whatever you’re trying to sell as a gimmick… Don’t even bother bringing that trash to the ring with you on Monday Night Clash, because I’m not buying it.
And I’m sure as hell not gonna be selling it.
You claim to be a veteran
But act like a bozo
You think you’re some legacy player
But you’re just another basic bitch
Well Monday Night Clash is make or break, babe.
You’re about to come face to face with the anti-hero. You’re about to encounter the most technical, precise, and dangerous grappler in this federation… And unfortunately for you - she’s pissed off.
So dig up your urn
Call the mayor of Knox county
Raise the dead
None of that shit matters
As soon as that bell sounds… Your ass belongs to me.
-----------
“So what’s the plan for Clash?”
My friend and business manager Ruby Goldhirsch spoke up as we sat across from one another in the limo ride toward the Kraft Mayo Arena… What kind of a corporate name is that anyway? I wondered… Surely Kraft has plenty of other products they could have used when they bought the name rights to this place?
Hamburger Helper Stadium?
Wait…. Is that a Kraft product?
Eh… I guess it’s ‘Bama
They think incest is a cool family activity here
Can’t expect them to be good at product placement
“The plan is to go out there and beat the ever-loving piss out of Alexis Callaway”
“Alexandra… You mean?”
“Whatever… It doesn’t really matter what she calls herself. I’m going to hurt her either way”
My eyes remained on the tinted glass window, gazing out across the cityscape as we made our way along Highway 29. To be honest, I was starting to get tired of this shit… The ups and downs - the hopes of finally breaking through followed by the stark reality of my predicament. To me, this was just another match that was inconsequential to my overall standing in AW… I mean Callaway was a faux-cunt living off of daddy’s namesake - but that was why she was valued over somebody like me.
And no amount of words could change that…
“Hurt her? As in?”
Ruby questioned my motives with a pensive tone… There was an unwritten rule in this business that you always tried to avoid seriously injuring your opponents. Even in a combat sport where the main goal was to bludgeon and brutalize your opponent into submission - it was understood that we all had to go home at the end of the day to our real lives.
And once you get a reputation for being unsafe…
Federations tend to shy away from booking you.
“As in twist her vapid little ass into a pretzel, make her scream for her daddy… And then have her admit that I’m her fucking daddy now”
“Aggressive…”
She responded with a bit of a chuckle.
“If she’s a good girl, I might even pull her hair a little”
I replied with a little grin right back at her
“I know you think she’s just some run of the mill flier… But it’s important to remember that she’s been in this business for almost as long as you have. Sure, you’ve had fundamentally different paths… But she’s sure to know a few tricks.”
She is a fucking trick…
“You can’t expect her to just roll her over”
“I never claimed I’d roll her… I said I’d twist her into a pretzel, dip her in cheese and then feed her to the pigs”
“Well that’s awfully descriptive…”
Pigs, dogs, the fans… It didn't really make much of a difference. The truth is that I didn’t necessarily have anything personal against Alexandra Callaway - we’ve never had any real beef backstage and never really built any personal grift with one another. But she was the next in line to face me after my humiliating defeat in the TV Title match… And I was still REALLY pissed off about that
So logically… I was going to take my frustrations out on the Underfucker.
“As far as I know, yes. But you’re not facing the deadman on Clash. You’re facing Alexandra… And we’ve still got that unhinged ballbag Mason Jones lurking in the shadows”
Oh right… Mason Jones
Pffft… He got what he deserved for screwing me over in the first place
Fuck him.
“Let him show his face. I’ll break his head open again”
“I’m not worried about your ability to handle either Jones or Callaway. Just about whether or not Jones shows up and screws us out of another win.”
She was always so forthright… And I suppose it was her job to be. I knew we had the numbers advantage with Providence - however it was 50/50 as to whether or not they’d be barred from ringside for the match and thus disallowed to help me out if this were to become an ambush.
I couldn’t worry about prospective outcomes…
That was out of my control
All I could do was focus on the match and adlib as needed.
“It’s not about Mason either way… If you see something dodgy, then give me a shout and I’ll deal with it. Otherwise, my focus is on brutalizing Alexandra and trying to actually get a god-damned win for a change”
“Make wrestling, wrestling again?”
Ruby quipped with a teasing tone as I gave her the hairy eyeball
“Relax… I’m teasing”
She spoke up once again, crossing her legs and folding her hands into her lap. We were both dressed to impress, except I had my wrestling gear in the trunk and would be changing for this match as soon as we made it to the building
“Once we get to the building, I’ll call B.B and the boys. We’ll get together and talk about strategy… In the meantime, you focus solely on Alexandra. I’ll worry about the rest.”
I nodded in approval
“You’re the boss…. Boss”
At least until the bell sounded to open up Clash…
Then it was all about me taking HellFyre to the festival of defeat.
