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James Raven · (06-26-2017)

Have you ever seen the movie 'Vanilla Sky'? It's weird as shit, but I enjoy it.

My favorite scene is when 'My Name is Earl' bails 'Jerry McGuire' out of jail, and they get into an argument in the parking lot. The struggling writer turns on his millionaire friend and publisher, and explains to him the true poignancy of the sweet and the sour.

See, to someone who doesn't know the struggle; who always wins the big fight, closes the valuable deal, gets the beautiful woman... that sweetness becomes overwhelming. First, you take it for granted, and then you outright resent it. When you get the shit slapped out of you, and your ego shattered, though... when you really taste that sour... it's only then that you'll ever truly appreciate the sweet.

High Stakes was a wild night.

I was convinced I was going to beat The Kings. I admit it. I was over-confident if you want to call it that. I knew I was better than anyone else in that match, man to man. I knew I could compensate for what Jon Brown lacked. I wasn't prepared for Vinny Lane to screw over me, himself, and the entire XWF though. There was no part of me that prepared to taste that sour.

I wanted to find a corner of an empty locker room, shut off all the lights, and wallow in self pity. I wanted to hide from everyone, and see how long I could go without having to explain to friends or media that I wasn't as good as I thought I was anymore. I wanted to, but I couldn't... see, Paul Heyman had convinced me to participate in High Stakes. I said I would on a whim, and it ended up being one of my wisest moves. Not just because I proved I'm still the best. Not just because I made my claim to the Universal title I never really lost crystal clear.

Because I truly could appreciate the sweet.

You get it by now, right? I can stop beating that dead horse of a metaphor and start beating the dead whale that is Barney Green? Barney Green, the man that you almost can't make fun of because everything you want to say is too easy. You're so fat you make Peter Gilmour look like a GQ model, you're visually handicapped yet unfortunately we all still have to look at you, you say you're hardcore and put your body through hell which is a nice way of saying you get shit kicked a lot, and your tits are so big Jenji Kohan offered you a role in Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling. Your breath smells worse than the tobacco laced motor oil you're constantly spitting into empty Gatorade bottles, and your asshole smells like the disease infested cocks of the 72 trannies you were rewarded for sacrificing yourself to Twinkies.

You have more losses to me than you have main event wins in your career. Your title reigns are more embarrassingly short than "LA LA LANDS" Best Picture run, before the Academy realized John Blaq might riot over "MOONLIGHT".

Fuck you, Barney. You and Gilmour both jumped at the chance to face me, hoping I was a shadow of myself and you could avenge all the bully beatdowns I laid on you over the years. You're about to get slapped down just like he did, and then your attempt to sieze another 15 minutes of fame will just leave you a wrecked pile of blubber and another name on my new school ass kicking tour.

Next up, Jim Caedus and Chris Chaos. They can't beat Doc and I, no jokes necessary, I'm just letting you know now. I'll save that ammo for later. Then, Cadryn; the Italian Cowboy that shifts gimmicks like political views, and belches the salty scent of King cum every few minutes. Michael Graves, the pedophilic freakshow that makes Paul Bernardo look like a licensed pediatrician and thinks his title reigns mean shit while he clings to the coattails of AX3. Doc, the man that feels he can take me if given another shot, and will absolutely get it. Vinny Lane... the man that cost me my win over The Kings.

The list is long, and ever growing... but now it's late, and it doesn't start until Barney Green remember what it feels like to Fear the Raven... Forevermore.

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