Post by Sicko on Apr 7, 2024 12:16:20 GMT -5
Now that I've arrived on the scene and the full scope of what I'm about has just begun to take form in your minds, the purpose behind my being becomes more clear, doesn't it?
Once all of the vintage commercials and kid's television programs are played, and the curtain falls, control shifts from the Clown, to the Spokesman, to the Jester.
What is a Jester, if not the ultimate arbiter of truth to the powers sitting in place?
The one who's laughed at, and mocked, at first blush, for being a fool, telling banal, trite witticisms... but that Jester is the only one in the entire courts who ever held the real power to say what he wanted to say with no fear of reprisal.
It's under that model that I've begun taking shape in Ephrain's mind since the last time he was seen in wrestling.
More than anything, it was this current roster, filled with its inextricably soft, pathetic, porridge-skinned, self-serving, arrogant wastes, which rankled something deep with Ephrain; Something he'd remembered well because he spent nearly a decade in service to people just like this.
Who thought of nothing but the empty accolades they wanted to accrue?
That behavior rhymes with every single weekly occurrence in Action Wrestling, it seeps down to its core.
Going to management every single week, puff their chest out with pride, and say "Okay, I've cut one promo exactly the way you wanted, when can I have a title shot? What division would you like me to go in?"
It's Karlie Nash emotionlessly giving me the middle finger and refusing to count a pin saying "I don't care about this" robotically.
It's the ever-present nonsense of Super Mario prattling away about his Mafia connections and pining over Rosalina, only to challenge anyone that talks to him in his fucking threads to some inscrutably undercooked gimmick-match where the winner gets a title shot.
It's in the way Driller Jaworski was continually given the rope to add credibility, and even handed title after title, but still walked away numerous times because his mental state "had a bad day".
This isn't a roster that deserves mercy.
It's with this in mind that I turn to the first I think of when I parse through this childish behavior, Doc Holiday.
"Doc", around the turn of the fall leaves, you were incredibly brash and outspoken about being the vanguard of the new generation.
You claimed, that once you put Downfall away, the company would be free and clear to focus on you.
Old timers, been holding the roster back from its potential; That you need to lead the charge forwards (Because THIS was WAR, to you) so that the same four people didn't monopolize the World Title.
Now that the dust's settled, "Doc"... do you still believe you're a future this company wants, or has your own future begun marching by you?
Downfall did claim the title, and then he walked off into the sunset. Angelo had his turn, but dropped it like a hot potato. Teo's been exceeding every expectation under such a low ceiling, but you continue to jog in place, not once capitalizing on the promises you were making.
Perhaps you're afraid of expending the effort to really push through, and get to where Downfall was.
I can tell you, the man did leave this business because it was rapidly burning him out due to the weekly grind of needing to show up and bring main-event thunder.
Now I can see that you're in panic mode after yet again being slapped down, this time by the one person you thought you had in the bag, after Cedrone took your US title.
Looking forward to Havoc as something you can gun for, if only you can brain the words that'll make you sound so focused, so unfuckwithable that everyone will know for sure that you're the heir apparent.
But for you, and TJ Alexander, I'm Driller's bad day; Think of me as just a small hitch that ruins your fun and kills your enjoyment of the way this plays.
Because you don't deserve this, Doc, neither you, nor TJ does.
You're just scavenging little corvids, flitting around the periphery and anxiously looking for a scrap of meat to peck at.
You, "Doc"... are disappointing because once allll that talk about you, Jessie, about fucking KARLIE being the future of this company washes, where are you now that you weren't already in September?
No progression, no push towards a future you make; Literally finding you wasting your time in any particular bar chatting sports with your buddy Jens.
You believe this tournament will be your kingmaker. That winning this final Havoc spot will validate everything you've yearned for.
Perhaps, you'll even try to spin it as something you believe in so strongly that you HAVE to take this, because this is akin to a war you must win, in your mind.
I don't care about any of that.
I simply see this tournament as a weekly vehicle for me to be presented some overhyped young idiot, who's entirely too up his own ass with his own arrogance, and never stop making him pay.
I'm here to speak truths to those who think they're in power, and to inform them that their worst days are ahead of them.
All it takes to remove yourself from your illusions, and be who you truly are meant to be, is to see yourself through the worst day of your life.
Once all of the vintage commercials and kid's television programs are played, and the curtain falls, control shifts from the Clown, to the Spokesman, to the Jester.
What is a Jester, if not the ultimate arbiter of truth to the powers sitting in place?
The one who's laughed at, and mocked, at first blush, for being a fool, telling banal, trite witticisms... but that Jester is the only one in the entire courts who ever held the real power to say what he wanted to say with no fear of reprisal.
It's under that model that I've begun taking shape in Ephrain's mind since the last time he was seen in wrestling.
More than anything, it was this current roster, filled with its inextricably soft, pathetic, porridge-skinned, self-serving, arrogant wastes, which rankled something deep with Ephrain; Something he'd remembered well because he spent nearly a decade in service to people just like this.
Who thought of nothing but the empty accolades they wanted to accrue?
That behavior rhymes with every single weekly occurrence in Action Wrestling, it seeps down to its core.
Going to management every single week, puff their chest out with pride, and say "Okay, I've cut one promo exactly the way you wanted, when can I have a title shot? What division would you like me to go in?"
It's Karlie Nash emotionlessly giving me the middle finger and refusing to count a pin saying "I don't care about this" robotically.
It's the ever-present nonsense of Super Mario prattling away about his Mafia connections and pining over Rosalina, only to challenge anyone that talks to him in his fucking threads to some inscrutably undercooked gimmick-match where the winner gets a title shot.
It's in the way Driller Jaworski was continually given the rope to add credibility, and even handed title after title, but still walked away numerous times because his mental state "had a bad day".
This isn't a roster that deserves mercy.
It's with this in mind that I turn to the first I think of when I parse through this childish behavior, Doc Holiday.
"Doc", around the turn of the fall leaves, you were incredibly brash and outspoken about being the vanguard of the new generation.
You claimed, that once you put Downfall away, the company would be free and clear to focus on you.
Old timers, been holding the roster back from its potential; That you need to lead the charge forwards (Because THIS was WAR, to you) so that the same four people didn't monopolize the World Title.
Now that the dust's settled, "Doc"... do you still believe you're a future this company wants, or has your own future begun marching by you?
Downfall did claim the title, and then he walked off into the sunset. Angelo had his turn, but dropped it like a hot potato. Teo's been exceeding every expectation under such a low ceiling, but you continue to jog in place, not once capitalizing on the promises you were making.
Perhaps you're afraid of expending the effort to really push through, and get to where Downfall was.
I can tell you, the man did leave this business because it was rapidly burning him out due to the weekly grind of needing to show up and bring main-event thunder.
Now I can see that you're in panic mode after yet again being slapped down, this time by the one person you thought you had in the bag, after Cedrone took your US title.
Looking forward to Havoc as something you can gun for, if only you can brain the words that'll make you sound so focused, so unfuckwithable that everyone will know for sure that you're the heir apparent.
But for you, and TJ Alexander, I'm Driller's bad day; Think of me as just a small hitch that ruins your fun and kills your enjoyment of the way this plays.
Because you don't deserve this, Doc, neither you, nor TJ does.
You're just scavenging little corvids, flitting around the periphery and anxiously looking for a scrap of meat to peck at.
You, "Doc"... are disappointing because once allll that talk about you, Jessie, about fucking KARLIE being the future of this company washes, where are you now that you weren't already in September?
No progression, no push towards a future you make; Literally finding you wasting your time in any particular bar chatting sports with your buddy Jens.
You believe this tournament will be your kingmaker. That winning this final Havoc spot will validate everything you've yearned for.
Perhaps, you'll even try to spin it as something you believe in so strongly that you HAVE to take this, because this is akin to a war you must win, in your mind.
I don't care about any of that.
I simply see this tournament as a weekly vehicle for me to be presented some overhyped young idiot, who's entirely too up his own ass with his own arrogance, and never stop making him pay.
I'm here to speak truths to those who think they're in power, and to inform them that their worst days are ahead of them.
All it takes to remove yourself from your illusions, and be who you truly are meant to be, is to see yourself through the worst day of your life.