(*parallel to events from Graves's "Motivation and Such")

7/30/2016

Even Unknowner Location


A young man clad in pristine white slacks and a navy blue button-up blouse enters the type of office furnished as you'd expect for any shadow government middle management type; a bookcase, a flag and walls adorned with a framed set of the rare Bob Ross "Happy Little Satan" series, mounted human baby skulls long ago drained of brains at shadow government potluck picnics through neon-green crazy straws, pin-up Illuminati Magazine centerfolds of high ranking officers in somehow risque cloaked poses and an uplifting "Hang in there, Baby" kitten poster that must really take the edge offa Mondays.

An older, bald, white woman in a pantsuit stitched outta the fibrous tissues of poor people sits behind the desk, poking at her lunch with a spork. The young man strides over. He offers the obviously disinterested-in-her-food old woman some encouragement.

"Fried kitten nuts over panda entrails drizzled in dolphin pituitary gland squeezins seasoned with ground-up hopes and dreams of the homeless AND a side of Tiberius Farms bacon? Looks delicious!"

She sighs, dejected.

"Meh. If you don't get to kill the animals yourself or at LEAST watch them die horrifically it just makes the dish boring. The _bacon_ is projectile vomit inducing. It tastes like kangaroo and _I KNOW_ kangaroo. I _hate_ kangaroo...it's so..." She cringes. "...McDonald's and _Aussie_ pedestrian. On the upside, the Mrs. Dash hobo hopes 'n dreams seasoning is excellent and my stem cell juice box sure has a kick to it. Still..."

She sighs again, more dramatically, shoving the plate across the desk. It careens off the edge to the carpeting below where it shatters then inexplicably explodes, sending off a small mushroom cloud and shockwave that has roaches for miles scattering for cover.

She continues sipping from her stem cell juice box.

"I'll have the janitor clean that up right away, ma'am." The young man produces a walkie-talkie and raises it to his lips. "Custodian Chaos, Janitor Jenny, whom-the-devil-ever your clinically diseased brain has you radiating at the moment, there's a pile of exploded mammalian guts, nuts and cetacean brain fluid on the floor in Ms. Samuels's office that needs attending to, over." He thinks twice, catching himself lowering the walkie then returning it to his lips. He adds snottily, "I expect to see that in the DUMPSTER, mister, and I expect to see it STAY in the dumpster this time, lady! If I catch you stealing upper class garbage to dine above your pay-grade again, you're FIRED. I don't care HOW close you say you're getting to being able to afford that vestigial tail removal surgery and I don't wanna hear _any more_ about how it extends outward a creepy 16 inches, either. That's a COSMETIC surgery, it's NOT COVERED and you KNOW you need EVERY DIME! So if you intend to attend the Annual Antichristmas Ball, or do ANYTHING in public really _without_ your 18 inch Victorian bustle and mumu for once, I'd suggest you heed my final warning, over!"

He lowers the walkie and looks to Ms. Samuels as a voice responds, "Over."

"So it's the female today. Gross, I don't know WHY we employ shapeshifting peasants like that, we _hate_ them so! Isn't that right, Ms. Samuels," he asks, assuming this to be a wise bit of sucking up to authority?

Ms. Samuels spins around in her rolling office chair to face the wall behind her, hiding her suspiciously shifty eyes and knowingly furrowed brow.

"Yes......yes, we uh, we _hate_ them."

"Ugh, that one janitor who handles the lavatories......Bathroom Bruce I believe they call him, Karen in the Plotting Department says _he_ said he's tired of his testicles and penis so he's having them removed and changing his name to Brucina...Brucella or- oh that's right, it's FAR more lazy, Brucett-"

Ms. Samuels spins swiftly back around and snaps at him-

"Enough of the freakshow, I'm bored! Make me laugh, underling Caydrun. You're a gay, you people have a wonderful sense of humor. Do that impression of a heterosexual Italian cowboy for me again, my legs have fully healed from their last crippling knee-slapping."

"Oh, but it wears so thin on my stamina pretending to be straight, ma'am. Last time I played that part I had to take time off for a month and I was stripped of my Employee With Hart award."

Ms. Samuels blasts a maximum spit-level razzberry at Caydrun, his face now glistening with saliva.

"Thank you, ma'am."

::BVVVT::

"What now?" He pulls his tablet from it's belt holster and checks the notification. His eyes light up with glee. "Ma'am, an update on Project PWN!"

Ms. Samuels brightens with pleasant surprise.

"_Really_......so the reconditioning of Patsy-0 was a success??"

Caydrun giggles.

"That's what our subjects' Rube-1 & 2 thought. Apparently the idiots couldn't carry out a textbook mental reconditioning procedure without taking care of the memories and personality."

"Memories and perso- That's the whole damn gig for Devilssake! Don't tell me they ran the procedure without the huge slowly spinning hypnotic spiral machine!?"

Laughing. "Rube-2 is- is using the old _multiple personalities_ excuse...and Rube-1, "The Boss", is FALLING FOR IT! These fools can't see Patsy-0 has no schizophrenic disorder, he's just terrible at creating characters in that wrestling business and has to blow through them like Kleenex, constantly reinventing himself to stay on the hunt for his "target"!"

Ms. Samuels cackles along with him.

"Rube-1 never actually looked at the Recondishtron-3000, _did_ he?? The switch for multiple personalities is RIGHT THERE on the control panel! He could've at LEAST eliminated that as an excuse since they're both too feeble minded to see the truth!"

"Retained memories and personality in a weapons project...OCP is going to have a field day with them once we're through. Get this, though...they think it's a _partial_ success because Patsy-0 is pursuing his "target" which they believe to be the goal of their "operation" and not the red herring we're using to dupe the dopes. Soooo...they're moving forward as planned!"

"That's wonderful! Thank the overlords we chose the right dunces! If the subjects weren't so stupid, most notably "The Boss", they might figure it all out and this project would be a bust...luckily Rube-1 IS that stupid. He's like a person doubting anyone with money who MAKES their money online and/or on television might have a room in their home devoted to filming. Is it outrageous? Perhaps for the less rock star of us but who cares, it's cooler than, say, a closet for storage, or a boring old guest room or even a man-cave full of video games and toys sparkling from a thick, still tacky coat of fanboy jism."

"I'm afraid you've lost me, ma'am."

"Nothing, just pointing out how insipid they are for believing any agency would actually spend money on brainwashing a special ed dropout to hunt down- well, _you_ know."

"Oh all of us on Project PWN know that but THEY don't. Luckily the subjects are abysmal morons, ma'am, if they knew this was all an experiment to discover if the Illuminati could TRULY-"

"SHHHH!! We work in a shadow government, underling Caydrun, the walls have ears. See?"

Ms. Samuels regards a shiny new plaque on the wall we missed earlier. 12 less-than-surgically removed ears, all of non-caucasian descent.

"The inner city YMCA bombing went well I see."

"It was a blast, underling."
-------------------------------------------------------------------


"Sleeve-roll OR How Caedus Got His Groove Back"


"Why did Micheal Graves cost me the Universal Championship? Why did he cram two more back to back attacks on the following Saturday and Wednesday live events? You'd think he'd already announced his motives first during his I-hate-Jimmy's-success-and-popularity Twitter tantrum spanning dozens o' Tweets and you'd logically assume anything he left out he covered in the ring this past Savage along with that misfire Bossman-Big Show dead dad storyline clone segment. You'd be remiss if you DIDN'T then figure, at long last, he MUST'VE finished with the motives in that botch-heavy vignette he recently released. Unfortunately, ladies and gentlemen, your cogs and springs of deductive reasoning are greased with the assumption that Micheal Graves is spewin' sincerity and not, in fact, the ramblings of a sociopathic shameless scavenger.

You see...Mikey's one true motivation lies in his character and his ability...or rather, lack thereof. Micheal Graves is nothing more than glorified enhancement talent for the new era of the XWF and as a former XWF World Champ (from a bygone era in which apparently the competition was as sparse as a successful Micheal Graves gimmick) that doesn't sit well with him. It's what's seen he and his "not" BFF, STILL-not-good-enough-for-the-big-time-yet-acting-like-his-shit-don't-stink compadre Cadryn Tiberius hand a 24/7 title over to pad a tally sheet. It's the catalyst behind Mikey's targeting of legitimate big names following high profile losses, like Dolly after LL4 and Jim Caedus after Blingsteen's cash-in...and as we all know, Graves's headlining win came with defeating the no-showing-in-promo Living Legend Dolly Waters and his highest profile match to date is versus yours truly in a Big Ben Brawl at KotR. Micheal's struggle for relevancy hindered by his lack of talent is why, for the last months, he's played the part of a pederast and a man who defiles the corpses of opponent's loved ones and why _before_ that time he could be viewed in promos "masturbating" to cold cuts and prop heads. Micheal Graves is a desperate, unskilled geek who clearly spends his free time LEGIT jackin-off to splatterfest horror films and it shows in his work here as he pushes the content-envelope to the most uninspired o' shock value. He knows damn well if he DIDN'T go to levels BEYOND extreme, NO ONE would be paying attention to 'im. Like our current Universal Champion, without weakened opponents AND the most shadily unorthodox o' methods, Micheal Graves wouldn't be shit right now but the same big-troll-talkin' no-man-walkin' wimp he's been since his return.

On top o' bein' all talk and dirty tricks, Micheal Graves is also a liar and a control freak as all sociopaths are. You've heard him claim he was the leader of Ax3 (when Chris Chaos _wasn't_ by the way, as stated BY Graves HIMSELF, vindicating my accusation that he did in fact collude with Chaos in favor of ousting me) and you heard his fib that his leadership was given to him because I "knew" he was smarter than me. James Raven himself, whom I spoke to backstage before Graves made that claim, can back this up: I allowed Graves to take the "leadership" reigns because I'm not the type o' guy to bark orders at my friends. Guide? Sure. Advise? Absolutely. Order? Never. In fact...I've pointed this out publicly on numerous occasions both in response to opponents in promo and in retort to snide remarks in roster meetings down at HQ. That, my friends, is what we in the reality community call precedent. Though I don't _really_ need to say this, do I? Who in their right mind would put stock in the idea that Graves is smarter than Caedus?

If Graves were smarter than Caedus he wouldn't dip in douchebag Blingsteen's bag o' tricks (as I predicted he would) thinkin' I wouldn't notice or already have a newly set strategy for that unique brand o' pussy warfare. He'd realize that for that to work the FIRST TIME around...you have to be _good enough_ to capitalize. He'd be self aware enough to know that he isn't, not for a first or second or ANY successive use of the ploy. He'd be savvy enough to know that playin' promos to the tune o' John Blaq's Opposite Day, such as stating "I was the most loved guy in" Ax3, will fool a fan base with more than half a brain at their disposal. He'd understand, because it was his INTENT, that his sexual attraction to and advances _on_ a KID made him the most reviled name on the roster; hell, it was his crowning achievement to gain infamy in context with child molestation. If Graves were smarter than Caedus he'd be smart enough to comprehend that my outspoken desire for friendship (in fact a popular point of attack in promo for months on end) would invalidate his claims that I formed Ax3 outta the best o' the best and not just those I simply wished to surround myself with. However, Micheal Graves is NOT a smart man, nor smarter than Caedus. He's an idiot who thinks I didn't see this all coming after that failed attempt by he and Cadryn to humiliate me over the TV Title oh so long ago. Far too unintelligent to have ever concluded, "gee, maybe Jim is keeping his enemy closer in my case since I already turned on him once before".

Graves is monumentally moronic enough to think he could Tweet out-

"When it came to Ax3, all very one ever did was talk about @JimCaedus. Fuck that guy."

-and say it does NOT in fact spell jealous with a capital _J_ag-off. He's dim enough to think Blingsteen's never-before-seen level of effort to retain the Uni title against Jim Caedus, a man you HAVE to raise the personal bar against, somehow translates to a low level of skill on MY part. Micheal Graves, boys and girls, is so fuckin' stupid he now claims not to know WHY he turned on me, despite endless excuses he's shoveled out and seen as inadequate in the face of facts...as if he's simply been "programmed" to hunt me down. While he claims no to jealousy after claiming it, while he denies the attempt to make a name for himself off me while standing on a record of doing JUST THAT to big names he sees as tired and ripe for the burying (with the name Graves no less), while he cries about no teamwork in Ax3 after embarking on his very solo quest to dive into Dolly's panties and get noticed, while he blames multiple personalities after he whines of people not liking him enough and exhibits all signs of sociopathic behavior in the constant changing up of appearance and style, lies, lack of understanding of love and friendship, a desire for control and an awkward inability to fit in......he's been purposely omitting the truth: a boring old run-o'-the-mill mask wearing ever-fake with no sense of personal identity ain't good enough to succeed. Not against Caedus, not in the XWF nor anywhere else in life for that matter.


P
E
R
I
O
D


Still...despite all the evidence to the contrary, Micheal Graves believes he possesses the right equipment both intellectually and competitorially to "figure Jim Caedus out". To..."discover the secret" to the Star Killer. He's incapable of grasping the notion that there IS no secret to a man who's laid bare his darkest and most embarrassing moments in life, no combination to a crippler who doles out honesty in the face o' fantasy, no trick to a tremendous talent who only seeks to put his best foot forward, entertain and compete to the best of his ability. There IS no secret to hard work, determination, drive and scorching skill. It is what it is. I'm only Jim Caedus and if I'm better than you on a given night that's all there is to it.

For entertainment's sake, however, let us delve deeper, traverse the tapestries of Micheal Graves thought would, as he put it on Twitter, pound the final nail into the coffin of Jim Caedus. Let us follow up on his mission to recreate Caedus in himself, to BE ME (yet ANOTHER mask change for this dumbfuck Ditto) with his "excursion" to the High Desert of-"

::STATIC::

::BLACK::


-Phelan, California-

-Thursday August 10 2017, 3:21 PM PST-







::FADE IN::

Clad in a plain, tight white T shirt, past knee-length navy blue Dickies shorts and my trusty pair of Red Wings steeltoe boots, long blonde hair held back in a low ponytail, the cloudless azure sky and punishing sun beating down in the high 90s as per the lower end of hot Phelan summer days, I regard the XWF camera lens before me.

"I suppose for starters I should point out that the Big Dick Daddy T Micheal Graves was wearing, the one distressed from multiple washings, is a new merch release I hilariously JUST signed off on a week ago to squeeze more money outta my merchandising deal. That means Mikey actually spent money and/or effort on fabricating the tattered look into that shirt for the sake of a limp stab at me. He doesn't know that since "Big Dick Daddy" was spawned by his sphincter-spelunking spunk splattered spazz of a best bud Cadryn I've seen it as a pussy-ass passive-aggressive slap since its inception following the last Anarchy card, a slap I had my own fun with, which would explain why I created and held to "The Star Killer" at the same time and have been selling THOSE T shirts for months now. I'd say that's an excellent segue into dropping the eye-roll worthy signature on the official site I've been suffering through in that time, now that THAT trap has been sprung on poor, dullard, dumbass Gravy. I wish it could've been used on the dick suckin' dago Tiberius 'imself but THIS is why Cadryn finds value in Graves: as a pawn to clear the field of mines by less locatin' 'em, more so by _steppin'_ on 'em.

Micheal Graves is also useful in a more general sense as an educator of sorts. When he said Phelan was my hometown until I "went soft" and moved to Long Beach he taught us all the valuable lesson of PAYING ATTENTION...and not even CLOSE attention, just enough to open your eyes and recognize that 80% of those flashbacks of mine he says he watched took place in Long Beach or neighboring cities and not the High Desert. Why? Is redundancy required here?"

I give the secretive index finger "come hither" curl and unfurl to the camera and the pov closes in.

"Psssst, Mikey...I was born in Lakewood, spent the ages of 0-32 in Long Beach, moved to the High Desert in 2012 and recently moved BACK to MY HOMETOWN of Long Beach. For fucksake you imbecile, the info is _right there_ on both my profile and application on the official XWF site if you happened to miss the PLETHORA o' painful memory promos I've uploaded over the last 7+ months. I see you're still usin' your DIY eyedrops, you botchin' blind buffoon. I keep tellin' you, straight salt water ain't the same as saline, dipshit.

That may be why I've been takin' a tour of my old temporary stompin' grounds-Hell all damn day during a time when Mikey has promised "weeks" of acting homeless in the High Desert but I've seen neither hide nor hair o' the hack that bit off me nor has HE seen ME. Of course...the real reason for that is Micheal Graves isn't now, nor has he EVER BEEN, in Phelan and is instead launching his ill-advised attacks from a fuckin' studio or alternate location. See, I AM in Phelan. Right NOW, filming. It's a small town, folks. So small in fact that it encompasses a SINGLE intersection with less than a block of extending township in all directions and is otherwise made up of expanses of dirt roads extending off to the borders of the even smaller territories Piñon Hills, Baldy Mesa, Oak Hills and eventually Hesperia. There's nowhere to hide, not out in public walking the TWO goddamn streets.

Streets Micheal Graves revealed as complete with sidewalks. BZZZZZZ!! Sorry Mike, but I wasn't spoiled with sidewalks during my 7 months streetside in the High Desert, they legit JUST started pouring the sidewalks this year and JUST finished laying the final side for this small section of town. Have a look see if you doubt me."

I motion over the cameraman's shoulder and he spins to take in the evidence.





The pov returns to me.

"Wow...what a fuck up, huh? You had no way of knowing of course...unless you'd honestly stopped in to see for yourself and WERE making a feeble attempt to "be me". If I had to hoof it, which I rarely did seeing as my family lived in a 1997 Ford Explorer (ANOTHER detail included in my promos you completely skipped over) I was kickin' rocks in dirt enduring temps swinging from 110° summer highs to low 50s in the fall down to the low 40s and below...to freezing. Needless to say there's one experience you'll never be able to replicate. A second: seein' as you "gave away all your money and credit cards" you can't purchase a p.o.s. two decade old vehicle with an $800 lien, no plates and a leaking roof to subsist in. Speaking of which...a third: I spent my homeless days in that metallic husk from, as stated, summer, through fall and into the dead o' winter, suffering sweltering heat, drastic drops in temperature and weathering wet storms o' snow, sleet, hail and rain. Ain't much chance you'll be seein' any o' that without now adding time traveler or some other such time altering asshole to your long list o' failed gimmicks JUST to "adapt" and prove me wrong. FYI, in that theoretical scenario you will have once more been pwned by Caedus, your Lord and master, proving you can't make a move without my influence. Not only that, you'll have proven what already exists as fact: you can't naturally recreate the real-time events of my experience before we clash at King o' the Ring. We can all rest assured that isn't the case; and you'd never survive my life anyway. Gravy, like your namesake, you're so soft you don't even define a fuckin' solid and you're so intensely ignorant you think you can condense 7 months on the streets into a two week crash course."

I lead the camera around the Arco gas station from which my tour of Old Phelan Town began to an extended, fully enclosed structure with a padlocked gate.

"Graves walked around doin' a whole lotta fuck-all in faux-Phelan in an effort to mirror my homelessness or...at least what HE in his uninformed foolishness thought represented homelessness for me in the high desert. The problem is, without actually goin' through it, he wasn't able to convey all the nuances that accompany the position. It didn't occur to him that the "easiest" free eats to snag entail him havin' to wait in hiding around the back o' the AMPM for random write-off intervals when an employee will deliver a mass o' munchies via garbage bag to the dumpsters beyond this gate. He'd hafta find out the hard way if he crossed the street to Circle K or tried to find the refuse receptacles of Taco Bell, Wienerschnitzel, Burger King or MacDonalds that ONLY AMPM employs people lazy and/or dumb enough to forget to lock the gates after dumping, allowing a starving street urchin to score the still warm remnants of expired Too Much Good Stuff hot "food" among the filth. What's more...Micheal Graves is so mind numbingly remedial he doesn't seem to understand the concept of true hunger would include months at a time watching your waistline shrink as you sporadically feed off what you can find when and where you can find it. Phelan isn't the city or some hamlet hidden among a veritable Eden of lush forests with wild game. Its isolated in the desert. The DESERT. Next to the arctic one of the most inhospitable environments for the unprotected.Therein lies yet one more piece o' the puzzle that Micheal Graves not only _will_ never but CAN'T ever experience as he seeks to walk a mile in my shoes."

I pause, spying a half-smoked cigarette flattened into the asphalt.

"Oh, what have we here?"

I stoop to pick the butt up, wipe the filter clean as best I can, lip it and light it with a blue Bic I produce from my pocket.

"Right there, Mikey, is how a smoker scavenges in Phelan. It's funny...you found your cig butt in an ashtray "here" when every local knows there ARE no ashtrays in Phelan. All there are are garbage cans posted outside businesses along with No Smoking signs. It isn't enabled nor is it tolerated to smoke in public here. You've got 3 options: smoke in your car, smoke in your home or smoke AWAY from town, which, seein' as the rest of Phelan is, as stated before, comprised o' nothin' but miles of dirt roads and desert, is a highly unlikely place to both search or strike it grit rich. To collect butts in _this_ place is a lengthy, tricky process...and again, you've proven you ain't no where near the mark pertaining to visiting Phelan OR hittin' the Caedus Experience. Christ almighty...you put your credibility completely on the line to pull your little "What Makes Caedus Tick" lacklustery, the least you could've done was ANY amount o' research. You coulda been swingin' truth but instead...

You lower yourself once more to flinging falsehoods that one only needs eyes to see as untruth. The exact same "game" Blingsteen brings to the table stating up is down, left is right and lies are truth. You say you coulda sworn I was about to burst into tears? What about a man mocking anger as he transitions into emotionless made you think tears? It's right there in my promo, fuck-up, but hey, because Bling beat me that must mean the secret to defeating me is saying I was on the verge of tears like he did, right? Mike...do you EVER have an idea you don't steal from someone or something else? Are you even CAPABLE of creation or clearly seeing reality? You target my "crying" about how YOU were in Ax3 for protection...dumbass..." I sign in exasperation. "...That was an off-the-cuff RESPONSE to YOU claiming _I_ was seeking protection, for the second time, as if ANYONE believes I _needed_ protection. The fuck's the matter with your memory, motherfucker? How can you forget what YOU YOURSELF said and act brand new like I was comin' at you with a premeditated strategic argument? In the same I'm-Confused-As-Fuck-Parade tirade you try countering all my apt points with the weakest wave o' truth warpin' wussery yet. I never said I "rushed in" to save the day against Drake and The Revival you lyin' sack o' fuckin' shit. Quote unquote, VERBATIM:

"Who was it that showed up to make a unanimous acceptin' o' Drake's challenge to Ax3, albeit a bit later than desired? Caedus.".

Nice try, , try again."

::piped in audio playback::

"Does the fact that you rush in at the last minute after your “brothers” have already been gang raped three on two, not to save the day, but instead to take an ass whipping all your on… That somehow makes you what? Better than me?"

"While I appreciate you had the self respect to correct what you said in the same breath only moments before, no, it doesn't make me better than you. The fact I took on all 3 all on my OWN (not "on" you nervously stuttering simpleton) DOES make me TOUGHER than you, no doubt. It DOES prove that when facing even greater odds than you and Main faced I _still_ decided to put my neck on the line, or rather my leg, suffering a near fracture at the hands of our enemies, to ULTIMATELY support my brothers out of FRIENDSHIP. It DOES display that even when inundated with an unfamiliar Uni Champ's schedule I still managed to make it down there in time to stop Drake and The Revival from outright killing you. It shows everything you claim to be BULL. SHIT. You didn't "have the balls to walk out and face those fuckers eye to eye" early on, you had the TIME to do it, ya limpdick loser and you had the knowledge that there were others in Ax3 to depend on in a gang warfare situation if you did it. Shut the fuck up with your grandiose delusion, it's gone FAR past sad and barreling headlong into tragic at this point.

Almost as tragic as foolin' yourself further into thinking repeating what those drunken fans in Hollywood were chantin' is in any way demoralizing. You kiddin' me with that already hackneyed horseshit? Mike, that chant helped me FINALLY come to grips with the fact that friendship in a competitive business environment among one's competition is not only a naïve notion but unrealistic and impractical. That chant FREED ME. Please...go right ahead and repeat the words which saw me end that, as you put it, "pile up of losses" in Edinburgh. Cheer me on like the bad little bitch I've owned since the Federweight Scramble in February that you are. See how many times you can chant and clap it out when I toss you off the uppermost reaches of Big Ben's interior to pinball off platforms, wheels and steel girders on your way down 315 feet to the floor. Promise me you'll do your best to fuel my fire and sing that same chant through shattered ribs, punctured lungs, a fractured spine and a broken jaw when I'm whippin' your ass up and down Westminster Bridge. And Micheal...it'd mean the WORLD to me if you could physically manage an audibly discernible SINGLE syllable o' that chant when I'm not "dunking" you into the Thames but forcin' your fuckin' head underwater until your feet quit kickin'...'cause I ain't tossin' the lot o' you into that river for the win until your heart stops. I've had it with you. None that came before...not The Kings, not Chaos, not Blingsteen...have ever sown as much hate in the soil o' my soul as you have. Unfortunately for you, the harvest o' my hatred encompasses the reaping of rape at the business end of my bitch-splittin' sickle and no amount of Caedus mimcry can prevent it."

"You can't be somethin' you're not." - Phil Anselmo, Pantera "Walk"

"You say to beat me you must become me. How can you become me when you can't possibly duplicate my trials, tribulations OR my success? Shit...you can't even drag your sorry ass out to the REAL Phelan, . You could NEVER be Caedus, cocksucker and if you have to become me to beat me but you _can't_ become me it means you _can't_ defeat me, does it not? If you have to emulate ANYONE instead o' bein' able to rely on bein' yourself to win matches and if "yourself" is so in question you've felt the need to switch from Misfits face paint to no face paint clean-shaven bob-cut havin' homo to long hair havin' Misfits face paint again to again no paint with a completely _different_ face and dreadlocks to a mask and cape makeover all in the span of 5 months while you switch styles from deadpan to demon-possessed psychotic to demon-possessed goofy to Fruity Devils dipshittery to "I'm serious THIS time" to Ax3 arrogant to pedophiliac in those same 5 months then move on to take a month off to segue into jealous betrayer on Twitter then avenger of injustice on Savage and now "I don't know WHAT the fuck I'm doing at present"...well, that's why your new era career has been a joke, jackass. You're nothin'.

Target Jim Caedus is it?














































Sounds like someone wants Micheal Graves dead."

::FADE TO RED::