The last thing my dad told me was to be myself and make him proud as the bad ass I was born to be. But the peppermint flavored vodka was a little intense for my Chicago brain to actually comprehend by god. The issue was hot on my ass like a branding iron, you know the intense pain shooting inside your anus and you want it gone permanently. I was trapped in a closet filled with minuscule bull shit of me actually being able to be somebody other than al lowlife drunk in front of my loving family. Knowingly not justifying my actions but tipping my hat on the subjects that aren’t really much of a matter to me. Do you honestly think it’s worth mentioning to anyone? I mean it’s a world filled with nonsense and false sense of bravery. A world that’s meaningless to the slightest itty bitty person who doesn’t know shit about what a real wrestler looks like. A wrestler stands up and faces his demons without being susceptible to the falsies and the illusions. You’re not Criss Angel, so why pretend to wave that magic wand around my poor little face. My poor little face that was kicked in by Big Nasty on my final XPW Grudge appearance. Come on don’t stand there and act like you understand the brass amount of bullsh*t that gets shoved down your throat on a regular basis. You watch big shot wrestling companies with kiddy soap opera action heroes whose boss is a c**t stain of a promoter. I’ve busted my ass for too long to give up now but it’s not worth being in my state of disillusionment filled with people who hardly even know I ever existed. Except for a cop who recognized my face on a XPW house show a few months prior after my loss with Big Nasty it was my last day on the job. It wasn’t shown on television but I got kicked in the teeth of that whiny Canadian jack ass Tim Timmons for a bland Cincinnati, Ohio crowd. My final XPW appearance and months later it falls off the face of the earth where it remains and I ponder at why? Why did they drop into oblivion when they had a talented roster and a huge following? It’s because they didn’t know how to properly applaud or praise their talent when they gave their all. Hell Hardcore Tony was fed to a bunch of giants one night and took a huge beating for what? It was entertaining but there wasn’t a pay raise for that night he still got his lousy paycheck and I asked him what your motivation is. He told me that it’s about pleasing the fans only and my health/ pay check is the least of XPW’s concern. So Anthony Tarantino I’m glad you are not wrestling in any promotion as you didn’t deserve the glory even in defeat you were still a prick.

Venom got you at your worst as I saw it in your performance it was done wasn’t it? When I signed to XPW and shook your hand and said I respected your hard work despite your bad antics. It wasn’t a lie but in my mind it’s still there the bitterness of your scowl. I can’t stop thinking it is one thing to speak but the thoughts in my head are amazing. The kinks and the cobwebs are getting exterminated for a new fresher and vigorous feeling. Damn, it’s actually starting to feel definite and fresher to me as well as exciting as the cat is not out the bag just yet. When do you ever sleep mind? Always thinking about what life will bring you next well even through the hellish of moments I stand here. I stand here thinking with my entire mind and all the people watching as the sky seems like it’s falling into the abyss of a subtle moment. A quiet aisle where nothing is subtle and or safe but it’s filled with a touch of the good old glory days. You know the days where it was simple to breathe and not be polluted by the mainstream populated, money grubbing society. Turn on the television and let them spin their lies like charlotte once did before she croaked and her children, oh she had a bunch of them sons of bitches. Her children spun webs as I sit now sobering up on this beautiful Sunday morning there isn’t much to do but ponder and wait to once feel a new fresh and vigorous feeling. The feeling I once had when I ruled the XPW arena while the masses greeted me with you are f**king sick. Delivering MOTY type performances despite not fitting in with the extreme demands of that cluster f**k we call XPW programming. Don’t applaud my thoughts but soon applaud my words as I will speak out soon enough. You see there’s not a promotion on this Thursday morning that’s calling me but it’s only a matter of time. They all will call me in for a performance quite like any other but it is July 18th, 2013 and no one has offered me any chance at redeeming what’s lost. My life isn’t some video game with kick ass features on display for the mass of pro wrestling fans to control. I control my own destiny and it’s time I start controlling in with a huge deliberate impact (pun intended).


I wanted to congratulate you on the award winning shocker of calling me XWF as it brought me great joy. Pleasures all mine to showcase an athletic performance with my more awes than you get at an acrobatic strip club. I mean no need for an Imperial Introduction I’m already royalty in the Biz unbeknownst to XWF management. Circling the date and marking my calendar, then off to the gym to work out my Gluteus Maximus and to properly deliver a smack down on some one’s bitch ass. He wasn’t ready to face such a brilliant specimen such as myself and it showed with his lack of not even being relevant. Relevant to the sport of professional wrestling and or being relevant to my knowledge. I started giving my all to be in the kind of shape I was back during my first run in the big leagues of professional wrestling. The idea was to get my body in a key point of being revered and being a respected S.O.B at all costs. Then out comes all the forward presentation into a new look into my inner consciousness. Sitting near the Gym floor eying those people who are wrestling fans mold themselves into something they’re not, you can be in the best shape of your life and still be a shitty wrestler. I saw a guy 480lbs show up a high fast agile little son of a gun without reverting into the clichéd move set of a big man. The guy even suicide dived onto the little guy crushing him before finishing off with a dynamic shoulder tackle with beautiful technique. So for one it wasn’t really about winners or losers but it was being the total package big or small, skinny or hefty and that’s saying something. I wanted to establish myself as a multi-talented athlete and to deliver a shocking scandal proof performance day in and out. But you know what? It’s hard to downplay all of the little people who want to watch you fall. It’s hard to downplay all of the idiots who call you worthless and not worth the price of the god damn admission. You see the game’s changed and the hero isn’t much like he once was. I’ve lost grasp on reality and the life I see now is just a giant fantasy and it’s touted by the people who can’t get a grip on who’s the best. Do you know why? The people are fed false information through huge conglomerate family owned businesses. Well call those the all American good ole boys who don’t know who they are and what they’re made of. Particularly not even giving a damn about the present & future of the wrestling business as a whole piece of the pie. They view us as minor pieces of the equation functioning like puppets to a less than intelligent fan base rolling around with each other for inbred rednecks just like NASCAR™. And I’m saying professional race car drivers aren’t worthy of being in the same category but they aren’t even a damn match. Mixed Marital Arts is popular but it’s still looked down upon in most states and it’s not allowed in most countries. It’s basically a human cock fight where no one and I mean no one is that much of a clear winner. I mean the mind state of a man whose best moment was destroying a lower form athlete with a 450 leg drop is beyond me.


But that further points out that some wrestling companies are to blame on the sheer fact that wrestling is nothing more than entertainment. But I’ll explain to you and the entire world soon enough by speaking, instead of letting you inside my thoughts of my brilliant mind and give you a taste of my mortal speech. I hate being quiet but it’s just that I’m busy with issues beyond repair in a world filled with leeches and rotting out prostitutes needing a quick buck. I take the high road while most trek down the lowest crack and crevice never surfacing again with an ounce of dignity or pride. Not going to pack my bags up and leave you wanting more, but I’m going to bless you with a metaphor for apocalyptic justice. Not befitting just anyone no but it’s befitting the scum of the earth who think that they mean something to the dying world around them. Little do they know that the world isn’t listening slowly unhinging itself beneath it and struggling to survive its injustices? Picket fences in your gaze never fading but its shadows etched into your feeble minds with impurities of past indiscretions for once you don’t know what will happen to you and those around you. For you have never entered the private sanctum of insanity and you have never met the devil himself with a grin upon his face. To know who is lurking, and who is trying to rid you of your suffering, is to reach inside the magician’s hat to pull out a rabbit. A rabbit that’s lurking to undue you from the cold spell you so happen to have endured. It’s going to take out all of the nonsensical explanations you have brought forward into the light. It shall stay in the dark for you have no right to call your life a meaningful one. Dear desire fueled rags upon me wanting to claim the top prize in this very organization while they mock me yet. But they won’t mock me when the tormentor awakens from his deep undisturbed slumber. I sit at the bench before slowly making my way to exit the gym and I stand near my Dodge Ram with a smirk. Before pronouncing that it’s beyond me to even sweat anyone at all due to my weight in being the best & that’s simply the best.

I didn't say one word, my inner monologue is an essence of ability. Hell, I don't have to talk. I can talk to you telepathy if I want to. Because I am the master of fate and chance. Flip a coin and i'll win it on the fly. There's no way of outsmarting me as I am that....Son of a bitch. That can make your life heaven or certainly hell. My game is chess and you are but a small pawn on a much broader spectrum. How's that for a breather? Punk.