Post by Spencer Adams on Nov 24, 2020 20:40:29 GMT -5
Part 1: Imperfect
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever know normal, if I'll ever be the one who can create the sense of safety and stability for myself and others around me that I've always hoped I could. My life is this cycle that I'm not sure I know how to break.
?: I like him.
Where did time go? What happened? What changed inside his head that made him turn his attention to watching The Thundermans in my locker room to him having his eyes glued to news and politics.
Spencer: Oh yeah??: He's flawed. He stutters and doesn't always say or do the right thing, but I think that in his own way, he tries to. It's more human than his opponent.
I offered him a fleeting smile as I'm quickly brought back to her and to them. I mean, what am I doing here? What does it do for them right now? With each tug of the tape roll, I'm back to all of them inside my head. I brought Howard here, I brought Lissie into all of this, I brought him into my life and I think it's worth asking myself if any of it has been the right thing to do. As I watch these people navigate their own lives, I'm unsure of if I've healed or hurt.
?: She's gonna be okay, right?Spencer: Yeah..I think so.
?: Are we?
Spencer: Yeah, buddy. We will..
We have to.
Part 2: Genuine
Spencer: I just want you to know that this one won't be published. I'm not here this week to hop in front of an AW backdrop or frame this one as something grander than me talking to you, to both of you really...but mostly you, Kyle. This one is more important to me than the typical promo. I understand that I'll get shit from the higher ups for not delivering them some bump in YouTube viewership and I'm fine with that. I'm okay with that, because some things need to be personal. I realize too that you may not even watch this, but the point is that YOU get it.
We could go back and forth, trading blow after verbal blow for the sole purpose of feeding the machine on a week where you find yourself once again lighting the flame we've shared for half a decade, but I'm not here to give you what you want. Instead, I'm here to give you what you deserve. I hate to break it to you, but you're in for a whole lot of disappointment right about now. As likely as the result is to repeat itself with Spencer Adams going over Kyle Kemp, I'm here to make sure that your plot isn't allowed to bring you the success you become increasingly desperate for.
This thing that you've got going right now, it doesn't sit well with me. You may sit there and try to shift the narrative you've been molding through The Following's timeline, but I know bullshit when I see it and because of the extent of our history, I know yours better than anybody else in this business ever will. As you shuffle the deck and fill your own circle up with those who hope for mutual benefit from your union, I'm looking at a man who is sweating on the surface and seething underneath it all.
Kyle Kemp, you are not a good man or even an honest one, but a snake oil salesman with preservation of relevance and branding as your only real motives. When the cameras go away, you and I both know that for you, all of that does not. You aren't just a business minded individual seeking success in his line of work, you're a goddamn shark. You are a shameless in your pursuits and normally, the world would be unanimously aware of what you're trying to pull, but you get the benefit of not being the other guy.
At first, it made you furious. I fucking know that it did. The Following was your ticket to the top. You were supposed to simply attach yourself to high tier talent and let the rest just happen for you. Philidor stopped that. Hell, even Lost Breed stopped that. The thing that you spent MONTHS crafting and had convinced yourself was a foolproof straight shot got one upped by The Buzzfeed Brawlers and a gang of mall goths. You got fucking bested at your game of chess by people who said fuck the dogwhistles, we're just going to take the blow torch to your game board.
Yet, you still cling to it, because that's all you've got and you can't sell yourself as an iron fist threat anymore. That's why you pivoted ever so slightly to LARPing The Walking Dead with gym rats and brought in a down in the dumps Wes and a version of Dandy DiVito still fighting to regain some sort of traction in ADub. No more hoisting Odin over your shoulder and carrying him to the back to try to turn him into privitized muscle, but limping hand in hand with people who you will call your brothers as long as it means that you have even a slim chance of remaining the leader of the third place faction in pro wrestling today.
You are not a leader, but you are a danger to the impressionable. You can go ahead and lace up those boots, tell the sound booth to hit the music, and stand in front of your name on the jumbotron like your presence signals prosperity and promise for yourself and others around you. You are Joel Osteen doing a collaboration with Kenneth Copeland, going out there and claiming one thing while representing something completely different, just a couple of absolute fucking slimeballs. What you market and are trying to sell people on is batshit.
You are talented, but you're not a fit tutor. What the world gets in Kyle Kemp is a world class athlete and a rear view scam artist. Luckily, I am fully capable of making sure that you maintain your placement on the ladder as good, but not quite the sort of generational talent you ache to be. Once upon a time, I would've wanted to see you reach those heights and said that you even deserved to, but I can't standby and let you spread misinformation and delusion with validation around your waist.
We will forever be connected and that's something that you need, because your greatest triumphs removed from warfare with Spencer Adams don't hold nearly the same weight that getting dunked on by Spencer Adams does. I beat you and look good doing it. You lose to me and look better doing it than you do with a TV strap or trios trophy. Still, I recognize that as less important. You are as toxic as they come and I'm here to oppose that toxicity. Never forget that I brought you into this world, a world that I love and hold dear to my heart and as long as your gameplan is to use the platform to peddle absolute fucking junk to the masses, than I can damn sure take you out of this world.
Dandy, I'd say you got suckered in by Kyle whispering in your ear like a Tony Robbins ASMR video, but you knew exactly what you were getting in this and took the same chance on him that Odin did and for the same reason too. Kemp went to Odin, because Odin is physically imposing. Odin accepted his hand, because Odin saw the slippery slope of failure that he had already begun to descend and he needed to come out the other end with something that could make it so he was even just viewed a little differently.
It wasn't faith that he could elevate you, but the notion that you could drop a few jaws and convince enough of those same people that they would soon see a different version of Dandy DiVito from the one who spent much of the year struggling to look like the guy who was nose biting and dick striking his way to big wins and getting showered with praise by sports analysts who were prematurely prepared to crown him as one of the greatest that this industry has ever seen.
Don't get me wrong, I get winning some and losing some and I know that even the best can have a slump every once in awhile, but you've become a milk carton model jumping up and down in front of our faces waving your hands hoping that we all recognize that you're still here. You just don't get it. You knew very well what you were getting into with The Following, but you fucked up when you decided to let Kyle Kemp lead the way for you instead of being the kind of guy who leads for himself and by himself.
Somewhere along the line, you lost Dandy DiVito. After many months of prolonged success, you seemed to forget how to fight like that guy. The old you would be relentlessly bullying the new you and it's not like the new you has undergone some radical personal growth either, he's just gotten softer and his teeth have gone dull. Trios success be damned, you are not a tag team specialist and in this domain, you're more out of your element than ever. You can pose with Kyle as Ned Schneebly, but you're still the cross-dressing, blood-sucking incubus from Maggot Death. You're still the same sketchy dude you've always been, but you've forgotten how to channel it effectively. Do you even remember what it felt like to hang over the arena like The Phantom of the Opera? You've become everything he would have scoffed at from his rafter view. That eats away at you and carves away at your meager muscle mass every single day that you spend living as the skim milk Dandy.
Do you two know the real difference between yourselves and those other guys currently occupying the bulk of antagonist stable real estate? It's that they're openly scummy even when pushed while I'm witnessing Kyle Kemp and Dandy DiVito changing tune for appearances sake. Spencer Adams wears his heart on his sleeve and fucks up just as much as anybody. I may be a lot of things, but disingenous isn't one of them. I'm not here singing different songs to different people. Truth wins over bullshit in the end and it always will. When happens next...that's truth.
Part 3: Progress
Standing six feet behind gorilla, I could hear the roar of the crowd as if it were coming through a funnel. Those working to make sure that everything was going according to plan were more wide eyed.
Production assistant: Five minutes! Are you good?
Spencer: Yeah.
Production assistant: Hey hey hey! You've gotta go, kid. You shouldn't be back here.
Spencer: Hey, buddy. What are you doing back here? Everything okay.
Production assistant: You know him?
Spencer: He's...my son.
Production assistant: My apologies, I had no idea. I was just making sure everything's ready.
?: Faith.
Spencer: What's that?
?: My name's Faith.
Spencer: I...
He wrapped his arms around me and I knew he wasn't talking to the assistant who had turned away at this point and went into a huddle with co-workers. I leaned down as his voice came out naturally hushed and timid.
Spencer: It's perfect.