Most Disgusting Promotional Tactics of 2017

***MOST DISGUSTING PROMOTIONAL TACTICS OF 2017***

I said I was going to write one of these blog entries and by god I plan on delivering. It took a while, but the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awards are finally released to the public. Before I get to the part where I combine my love for pro-wrestling with my love for shocking the shit out of people, I must make a few observations. Firstly, poor Bray Wyatt. Poor, poor Bray Wyatt. Worst Gimmick, Worst Feud of the Year (vs. Randy Orton), and Worst Match of the Year (also vs. Randy Orton). And secondly, I can see the irony in a wrestling machine like Daniel Bryan winning an award for Best Non-Wrestler. Yes, he’s been retired since 2016, but still, that’s kind of ironic. Now that those tidbits are out of the way, it’s time for some shock and awe…and maybe just a modicum of writing advice. A modicum may be all that you need tonight. As usual with these yearly journal entries, I’m going to start with the winner of the actual award and work my way down the list. There we eleven candidates this year: one winner, nine runner-ups, and one honorable mention. Pick your jaw up off the floor!

***WINNER (OR LOSER, DEPENDING ON HOW YOU LOOK AT IT)***

LIST ITEM: WWE promoting Jimmy Snuka as a hero in death.

THOUGHTS: What can be said about Jimmy Snuka? He was a legend. He was a high flyer. He was a Hall of Famer. You know what else he was? A suspect in the manslaughter of his former girlfriend Nancy Argentino. Of course, he was never convicted of the crime because he was declared legally incompetent to stand trial. Uh-huh. Sure he was. And what does WWE do after Snuka dies of pancreatic cancer? They play a video package of him looking like a million bucks inside the ring. The audience booed the shit out of this display and rightfully so. Jimmy Snuka didn’t remember murdering his girlfriend…but Pepperidge Farm remembers!

***SECOND PLACE***

LIST ITEM: Jinder Mahal’s racist tirade against Shinsuke Nakamura.

THOUGHTS: If you’re living in the year 2017 or beyond, it’s probably not a good idea to compare a Japanese wrestler to Mr. Miyagi while doing fake karate moves in the ring. It’s also not a good idea to say the Japanese wrestler doesn’t “rook right”. And please, oh please, don’t say Mr. Nakamura looks like Pikachu having a seizure. Is it any wonder the audience chanted “That’s too far!” over and over again during these promos? Don’t we already get enough racism from our current president and the rise of the alt-right? Next thing you know, Jinder Mahal’s going to come out in a Pepe the Frog mask.

***THIRD PLACE***

LIST ITEM: WWE using the Ultimate Warrior’s legacy to promote Susan G. Komen’s breast cancer cause.

THOUGHTS: It’s bad enough The Ultimate Warrior was once known for telling an Arab college student to “Get a towel!” It’s bad enough he said, “Queering doesn’t make the world work!” It’s bad enough he said he was happy that wrestling manager Bobby Heenan had cancer. Now you’re going to take this social pariah and put his face on breast cancer awareness campaigns? That’s like putting a climate change denier in charge of the EPA or a dumb shit in charge of the Board of Education. Oh wait…

***FOURTH PLACE***

LIST ITEM: Pushing Jinder Mahal has WWE Champion in order to please the Indian market.

THOUGHTS: Poor Jinder can’t catch a break, can he? He’s already the recipient of Most Overrated Wrestler in 2017 and he’s second place for Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic. Now he gets fourth place on the list as well. Let’s be honest: he wasn’t a very good champion. His matches sucked, his character development was non-existent, his monologues were derailed by a blown-out voice, and the only way he could get legitimate heel heat was by being a racist asshole. Imagine if Family Guy pushed Herbert the Pervert as their top protagonist. Actually, they could very well do that one day. Bad example!

***FIFTH PLACE***

LIST ITEM: Rizin MMA booking Gabi Garcia in fights against older and smaller women.

THOUGHTS: I think we can all agree that super muscular women shouldn’t be beating up on grandmas. Unless you want your promoted character to be seen as a super villain, it’s probably not a good idea to book him or her this way. I once joked with my brother James and his friend Blake that The Simpsons would be disturbing if Homer choked other characters besides Bart, namely Maggie (a baby), Marge (his wife), Santa’s Little Helper (the dog), or Abe (his father). Well, do you see where I’m going with this?

***SIXTH PLACE***

LIST ITEM: Kevin Owens head-butting Vince McMahon.

THOUGHTS: I’m actually okay with this one since Kevin Owens is supposed to be a jerk-ass heel and this is how he earns the audience’s hatred. I know, I know, Vince is an old man and shouldn’t be taking stiff head butts, but it was his own idea, so if he’s okay with it, I’m okay with it.

***SEVENTH PLACE***

LIST ITEM: Sexy Star staying employed in wrestling even after intentionally breaking Rosemary’s arm.

THOUGHTS: The only way pro-wrestling works is if the contenders in the ring trust each other with their bodies. Yes, it’s supposed to look and feel as painful as possible, which is why it’s even more important to be careful in there. Well, Sexy Star wasn’t careful at all. In fact, she tore the shit out of Rosemary’s arm and blamed the victim for it. How nice. How fucking nice. There seems to be a lot of victim blaming these days, though for much worse crimes against humanity.

***EIGHTH PLACE***

LIST ITEM: WWE encouraging bullying in the workplace while simultaneously pushing an anti-bullying campaign.

THOUGHTS: I already did a journal entry last year about Mauro Ranallo and his struggles with being harassed by JBL. But yeah, this is a company-wide problem that affects everybody employed. In 2011, WWE actually won the Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award for pulling this shit with overweight and Bell’s Palsy-suffering announcer Jim Ross. I thought Mauro’s dilemma would be the winner in this case as well.

***NINTH PLACE***

LIST ITEM: Conor McGregor’s racist comments against Floyd Mayweather, Jr.

THOUGHTS: Telling a black boxer to “dance, boy” and calling his family members “dancing monkeys”? Not cool. Not cool at all. It also doesn’t help that Conor once said that he’s “black from the waist down”. If Jinder Mahal can’t get away with pulling this shit against Shinsuke Nakamura, then Conor McGregor (regardless of his popularity) has to be held to the same standard. It did make for a lucrative feud between Conor and Floyd, but that’s beside the point.

***LAST PLACE***

LIST ITEM: Promotion of Antonio “Bigfoot” Silva vs. Rico Verhoeven.

THOUGHTS: If you thought booking Gabi Garcia against grandmas was cruel and unusual, get a load of this. Rico Verhoeven had earned his moniker of King of Kickboxing. He has a great record with wins over big names and has stayed fresh as a daisy in recent years. Bigfoot Silva? Not so much. He’s only won one match in the past few years and his many defeats were mostly by KO. And now Bigfoot wants to try his hand at kickboxing? It’s no surprise that he lost miserably against Rico, so all of this hype and promotion was for nothing. Oh well.

***HONORABLE MENTION***

LIST ITEM: Bayley: This Is Your Life.

THOUGHTS: It takes a special kind of dork-a-puss to screw up a lovable character this much. As a WWE wrestler who helped pioneer the Women’s Revolution with her wild popularity and strong work ethic, Bayley seemed to be headed for big things. And then…the creative writing team, in all of the infinite wisdom, broadcast a segment called Bayley: This Is Your Life, where her opponent for a pay-per-view, Alexa Bliss, painted her as having a helicopter father who was there during her first kiss and during kindergarten class. But don’t worry, because Bayley will soon get her revenge, right? Wrong! She looked like a clown in this feud and the fans booed the shit out of her for it. Poor girl. Poor, poor girl. She deserved so much better than this.

***CONCLUSION***

Boy, that was a fucking feel-good read, wasn’t it? You’re not shocked or depressed at all, are you? That reminds me, be sure to buy a copy of my book American Darkness on Amazon and other online retailers! Oh, that was ill-timed. Feel free to shiver if you’d like. Hehe! I’m Garrison Kelly and I’ll see you next time!

Villains: Psychosis vs. Calmness

***VILLAINS: PSYCHOSIS VS. CALMNESS***

When I’m submitting short stories to the WSS, a common critique I get is to focus on writing about calm villains instead of psychotic ones. I admit, my borderline bipolar villains are fun as hell to write about, but I believe there’s a lot of truth in what Angie (the one who gave this advice) says when it comes to calm villains. Think about it for a minute: who would you be more afraid of: a guy who says, “I’m going to kill you” while cartoonishly laughing or a guy who says, “I’m going to kill you” while breathing calmly through his nose? Since cartoon characters don’t exist in the real world, you’re more likely to be afraid of the calm and collected guy.

Case in point, WWE Smackdown superstar Kevin Owens. A wrestling example? Again? You got that right! In his mind, he’s justified in his anger against Smackdown Commissioner Shane McMahon. Kevin believes Shane is showing bias against him and screwing him out of important championship victories. So what does Kevin do? He tells Shane to his face, “Your whole family would have been better off if you didn’t survive that helicopter crash. Your father, your wife, and especially your kids!” Shane beats the hell out of Kevin to where the latter threatens a lawsuit against the WWE (because authority figures aren’t supposed to assault the wrestlers (tell that to Stephanie McMahon)).

Shane’s father and CEO of WWE, Vince McMahon, makes an appearance on Smackdown to quash the potential lawsuit and put Kevin Owens in a Hell in a Cell match against Shane McMahon. Kevin, in his calm and collected manner, wants Vince’s word that he won’t be fired if he, “Beats a McMahon senseless.” Vince gives the okay, but without realizing that Kevin meant ANY McMahon. He heat butts the 70-year-old Vince and opens a deep cut in his forehead. The beating continues in the form of rib kicks, a super kick, and a frog splash. Kevin has a shocked look on his face like, “What the fuck did I just do?”

Next week on Smackdown, Kevin Owens, once again being the calm and collected villain he is, blames Shane McMahon for his father’s assault. His passionate tirade against the Smackdown Commissioner ends with, “For what I’m about to do to you at Hell in a Cell, people like me don’t go to Hell; people like me go to Heaven.” Imagine that last line being said through a cool demeanor. Creepy, huh?

The coolness becomes ice cold when the next week on Smackdown, Kevin Owens has a wrestling match with his longtime rival Sami Zayn. The match ends in a No Contest when Kevin power bombs Sami onto the corner of the ring apron (the hardest part of the ring) and possibly fractures his ribs and spine in the process. What does the calm villain do as Sami Zayn is being carted out of the arena? Well, he sits on the announce table and stares at Sami like he had just taken a bowlful of Prozac and washed it down with warm milk. Peace and quiet washes over Kevin Owens like warm and soothing beach water. It’s the loveliest feeling in the world for him.

Kevin Owens doesn’t have a cartoonish laugh. He doesn’t wear clown makeup. He doesn’t have bulging eyes and a nearly exploding forehead vein. He’s just this calm, cool, and collected tormentor who feels so numb that his brain might as well have been rubbed with Novocain. A straightjacket is too good for him. He needs a prison cell in the worst way. That’s how scary Kevin Owens is as a villainous wrestler. You don’t have to be a wrestling fan to appreciate how calmly psychotic he is.

Pay attention to those two operative words: “calmly psychotic”. It’s not just one or the other. It’s a combination of both, whether the psychosis is subtle or not. If Kevin Owens told you that he was going to rip your intestines out and feed them to vultures and coyotes, you’d better run as fast as you fucking can. If he told you he was going to show up at your home while you were away and hoped that your kids answered the door for him…well, you get the idea.

And then you have the other WWE example in this blog entry, the overly psychotic Bray Wyatt. Since 2013, Bray Wyatt has had the same gimmick of a backwoods cult leader. He would speak in these cryptic promos and he would back up his spookiness with a 300 lb. frame and a hard-hitting fighting style. He once had a choir of sheep-masked children sing, “He’s Got the Whole World In His Hands”, which was so spooky that it reminded me of the scene in Pink Floyd the Wall where they sang, “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2”. Couple this with backwards tarantula walking, brainwashing abilities, a worm-infested compound to live in, and a bearded face with a head full of long dirty dreadlocks and you’ve got a recipe for psychosis.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I modeled a lot of my villains after Bray Wyatt. But on the advice of my awesome friend Angie, it could be time to at least try a new style: the calm and collected villain with a subtle psychotic nature. It could be a guy who picks the wings off of flies and keeps a straight face the entire time. It could be a handsome gentleman in a suit and tie who orders human jerky online. It could be a gentle and loving grandpa who instead of slashing the shit out of people, suffocates them with duct tape by covering their mouths and noses. This is already sounding pretty creepy to me, so yes, there’s a lot of truth in what Angie says. Happy early Halloween, by the way! We’ve got ears, say cheers! Hehehehehehe!

***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***

Despite the subtitle of this short story collection, this next piece could be my first real attempt at crafting a calm villain. He’s a politician, so being calm and charismatic comes with the territory. This story will be called “Peacemaker” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Gerard Killings, Human Assassin

2.      Misty Blades, Fox Ninja

3.      Randy Schneider, Politician

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Gerard has the unfortunate mercenary work of protecting Randy Schneider, a politician who is trying to introduce a bill that would legalize fox hunting. One night while Gerard is camping out in Mr. Schneider’s living room, the mansion is invaded by Misty Blades, an anthropomorphic fox who takes offense to the pompous politician’s anti-animal views. Gerard Killings has to decide between collecting a paycheck from Randy or giving into his disgust for his client and agreeing to help Misty. Either way, Randy Schneider isn’t a slouch himself; he’s armed with a peacemaker handgun while Gerard prefers a machete and Misty possesses a jagged katana.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Speaking of calmly villainous politicians, next on the chopping block is Randy Schneider. Maybe I could use Patrick Bateman as a reference model when I draw Randy. Or perhaps Alan Shores from the TV series “Boston Legal”. Or perhaps David Aceveda from “The Shield”. Whoever I end up modeling Randy Schneider after, it won’t be another chubby villain like I normally have. Marie Krepps likes to rib me over that, but she’s truthful in her friendly ribbing. It’s time for a change!

***WRESTLECRAP***

Another wrestling reference? Again? What’s with me and these…ugh…Anyways, now that Stuck Rubber Baby and Paper Towns are both in my rearview mirror, it’s time for a new book. Stuck Rubber Baby was a graphic novel and Paper Towns before it was a fictional novel, which means the next choice has to be nonfiction (that’s a new rule for me when I choose which book to read: I have to cover all three bases). Enter Wrestlecrap, a biography of the worst gimmicks and storylines in the history of professional wrestling, dating all the way up to 2003 when the book was published. So far, so good. It’s not earth-shattering, so it’ll probably earn a passing grade at best. I like it, though. I like it a lot!

***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY (AGAIN?!)***

If Dude Love and Juice Robinson formed a tag team together, they’d be called Dude Juice.

Body Positivity

***BODY POSITIVITY***

Judging from how my selfies look these days, this is going to come as a major shock to a lot of people (eye roll). I treat the fat guy with the same respect that I treat the athlete. There are good and bad people on both sides of that spectrum and that’s really the only criteria I use to decide if I like someone or not. You can do bicep curls and military presses until the end of time, but until you treat your fellow human being with love and kindness, you don’t deserve my respect.

I know that sounds ironic considering my love for WWE and how only a small minority of those wrestlers are out of shape. Yes, I enjoy the flippy-floppy techniques of guys like Neville and Seth Rollins, but I also don’t feel the need to bash out of shape wrestlers like Kevin Owens and Bray Wyatt simply because of how they look. Whether it’s with WWE or real life, looks don’t mean shit anymore. There are fat guys who are happily married and muscle studs who are struggling to find a girlfriend. Yes, I know Family Guy is only a cartoon where the characters beat the shit out of each other constantly, but the fact that a chubby guy like Peter Griffin can have a sexy redhead like Lois isn’t lost on me.

Not everybody on this planet has to be a sex object with rippling muscles and firm thighs. Sometimes I get the feeling that the only reason we have fat shaming in our society today is because the ones doing the shaming want someone to jerk off to. They don’t have enough people wax the carrot to, so they expect the whole world to look like sex statues. So that’s it, huh? If I were to go to the gym and exercise my ass off until I was 200 lbs, my biggest reward would be people jerking off to me? Gee, thanks a lot.

Another excuse fat shamers like to use to do what they do is that they’re concerned for their target’s health. So let me get this straight: you’re worried they might die from a heart attack or a stroke, so you insult them until they feel suicidal? Great logic. Great fucking logic. If you’re legitimately concerned about a fat guy’s health, cheer them on, don’t insult them. That drill instructor logic will get you five knuckles of death right in the fucking jaw.

So, the primary excuses people have for making fun of fat people are not enough wanking material and fake health concerns. I thought that would have been the end of it. And then Bill Maher closes an episode of Real Time with one of the most disgusting monologues I’ve heard in a long while. He chastised publications like The Huffington Post for promoting body positivity because obesity is supposed to be a disease, not a fashion trend. It’s one thing for him to make fat jokes about guys like Donald Trump, Chris Christie, and Rush Limbaugh, because those three are bona fide assholes. But to generalize the argument to include everyday people? Unbelievable.

Imagine if the wrong person were to see that kind of message on TV. Maybe it’s a fat guy in high school being bullied by jocks. Maybe it’s a binge-eating fat woman with low self-esteem and suicidal thoughts. No less than a week after doing an ending monologue about Republicans being trolls, Bill Maher became a troll himself to the entire obese population. He was already on my shit list for telling his audience how to dress and bitching about superhero movies and fast-paced novels. Those things I can deal with. But after that night of fat shaming, I have to reconsider my fandom for Mr. Maher. Yes, he and I are both proud liberals with a strong sense of zeal, but is he really fighting for someone like me with his show?

On one hand, I understand the health risks of being overweight. I know this, because there were times when I’d get winded climbing the stairs. I would come home from walks to the convenience store dripping with sweat like a fire hydrant. I have sleep apnea that isn’t always cured with my CPAP. The fact that I even have a CPAP says a lot about the state of my body. Am I the healthiest person on earth? Not really. But that doesn’t mean I have to feel like shit because of it. There are worse things in this world than being fat, such as being evil, stupid, shallow, obnoxious, and hateful among other negative qualities.

In the end, the only one who has the right to an opinion of your body is you yourself. If you like the way you look, good for you. If you don’t, do something about it. But if you are going to do something about it, make sure you have the final say. It’s your body, after all. Making diet and exercise choices shouldn’t be taken lightly and shouldn’t be because of coercion or insults. Surround yourself with people who embody a positive state of mind. They’re the ones who will help you through your body issues, not the jerk-offs and trolls. Somebody out there loves you and hopefully you love yourself too. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Two days ago, I finally pumped out “Wolf’s Cannonball”, the martial arts retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. The next character from that story to be drawn will be Little Red Sniper. I ordered some red colored pencils from Amazon and I might wait for them to get here before I get started on this drawing. I might have other variations of red in my collection, I just have to look for them.

***BOOK REVIEW***

I only have a little over a hundred pages left to read from Chris Jericho’s third memoir “The Best in the World: At What I Have No Idea”. I would have made some progress on it today, but I was feeling the blahs as far as creativity went. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a more energetic day. I plan on giving this book the same grade I gave to Chris Jericho’s first two memoirs: four stars out of five. He’s witty, he’s to-the-point, he’s entertaining…what more could I ask for out of a pro-wrestler turned author?

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What did Barack Obama say to the Republican Party in 2012?

A: Damn Mitt!

Cowardly Villains

***COWARDLY VILLAINS***

Villains, by their very definition, have at least some level of cowardice when it comes to exercising their evilness upon innocent people. Criminals run away whenever the police show up. High ranking villains use their wealth and power to control their adversaries. Bullies target only people who are weaker than them. If villains didn’t have any kind of power over their intended targets, they would scurry away in fear when the heat gets too hot. When was the last time you saw a caterpillar bully a full sized human adult? It doesn’t happen.

And then you have the kind of cowardly villain that uses their chicken shit ways in order to frustrate their opponents. You see this all the time in WWE with guys like The Miz and Kevin Owens. While the frustration tactic may be effective at times and believable more often than not, you don’t really hear about these kinds of villains in any other medium. Jaws was a big badass shark who devoured his victims. The giant tarantulas in Eight Legged Freaks felt no need to run away from their prey to frustrate them.

In short, whenever I write a story, I prefer that my villains be badasses who will gladly go toe-to-toe with their opponents and will most likely win. Those ones are the hardest to defeat. Those are the ones with the most power over their victims. Yes, Roger Zee from my most recent first draft novel Demon Axe had cowardly traits, such as relying on mass manipulation more than his own fighting skills, but hardcore fighting skills he did have. If anything, manipulating people into believing him was little more than an insurance policy. So you have this deadly assassin who’s unmatched in machete swordsmanship and he’s got an army of believers behind him. Holy shit!

The reason manipulating people is considered cowardly is because the ones doing the manipulating target impressionable youths and already-converted adults exclusively. Do you think for one minute that the white nationalists in Charlottesville are capable of brainwashing hard left resisters? I don’t fucking think so. They stick to their own base and that’s what gives them power. And then that kind of indoctrination is passed on from generation to generation behind closed doors.

So what should an ideal villain be as far as the cowardice-bravery spectrum goes? As I’ve illustrated with Roger Zee a few paragraphs ago, it could very well be a middle of the road deal. If Roger relied on his fighting skills exclusively, there’s still a small chance he’ll get blown to bits by the military or police. But if he blackmails those same police and military members, he becomes even more unnecessarily powerful. The power hungry crave more power and it’s an addiction that rivals cocaine and sugar.

For villains who don’t have the kind of power Roger Zee possessed in Demon Axe, cowardly tactics could be perceived as intelligence in disguise. That’s why we see assassins and hit men in movies run away from the police rather than taking them down with a bazooka in either hand while riding a tank. Some battles just can’t be won, but it’s the war that will determine a permanent victor. In the case of evading police, power over the public comes through self-preservation. The one who is the most energetic at the end of the war will be the winner.

So now we have an axis of bravery-cowardice (X coordinates) and wisdom-naivety (Y coordinates). I’d draw the graph myself, but I don’t have that kind of software on my computer nor will it show up very well when I copy and paste this blog entry online. When crafting a villain, these are the kinds of personalities you’ll have to consider. It may not be as simple as plotting points on the X-Y graph. There are variables to consider such as a powerful dictator being too lazy to do the job himself or maybe some underlying sense of entitlement due to being overpowered. I’m not saying one way is better than the other except for when I write my own novels and short stories. I prefer badasses who will go toe-to-toe with everyone, but that’s my opinion and everyone is entitled to their own.

And now that I’ve mentioned this mind-blowing idea of everyone having their own opinions, I’d like to hear some of yours, my lovely audience. Should villains be completely cowardly or not at all? How many shades of gray are there when determining an answer? Where does your main source of creative fuel for villains come from? We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***AMERICAN DARKNESS 2: WE ARE THE MACHINE***

This collection of short stories is only three away from being complete. The third to final story will not be featured at the WSS as a contest entry, but rather as an independent piece. It’s called “Bloodstained Paycheck” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Owen Edge, Crime Scene Cleaner

2.      Dennis McKay, Porn Theater Bouncer

3.      Felicia Strom, Kidnapped Teenager

PROMPT CONFORMITY: None.

SYNOPSIS: As part of his occupation, Owen doesn’t discriminate when it comes to clients as long as they pay his expensive fees. His latest assignment comes when Dennis hires him to clean up a bloodstained nudy booth after the bulky bouncer got too rough with a client and committed manslaughter. Owen’s neutrality is put to the test when he catches Felicia trying to sneak free from captivity. She spills the gory details of how she was being forced to perform sex acts on the other side of the glass for men’s entertainment at the threat of being murdered or raped by Dennis. Owen must now make a decision to stay true to his profession or pull the gun from his pocket and put one between Dennis’s eyes.

***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***

This story, on the other hand, will definitely be a part of the WSS contests. The prompt for this week comes from a list of lyrics CJ (the admin) laid out for us and the ones I chose came from “Bad Reputation” by Joan Jett. This story is called “Wolf’s Cannonball” and will bear resemblance to last year’s “Tiger Bullet Kick”. Here’s how the story goes:

CHARACTERS:

1. Big Bad Wolf, Martial Arts Genius
2. Little Red Sniper, Assassin
3. Hacksaw, Lumberjack

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Big Bad Wolf doesn’t give a damn about his bad reputation (judging by how he treats his bounty hunters).

SYNOPSIS: The unfortunately labeled Big Bad Wolf has been wrongly accused of stealing children from various villages and now has a price on his head that Little Red Sniper and Hacksaw plan to collect. Instead of trying to explain his innocence, Big Bad Wolf has taken on all comers with no absence of malice. He has a move in his arsenal known as the Wolf’s Cannonball, a rolling attack so powerful that it could be dangerous to his health.

***NOVEL IDEA EXPANSION***

American Darkness 2 and Poison Tongue Tales 2 are both well on their way to being completed and ready for Marie Krepps’ critiques. While there will definitely be a third installment in both series, my main goal after completing those anthologies will be to write another novel. As of now, I have more novel ideas than I do complete scene-by-scene blueprints for them. I’ve made it my mission to write those blueprints for all of my novels so that I’ll have something to fall back on when one novel idea is written out. I did it with a synopsis called “69 Bullets” and I plan on doing it with “Backwoods Barbarian”, the next in the alphabetical order. While I won’t give away spoilers for 69 Bullets, you can have a short synopsis:

HEROES:

1. Daniel Jameson a.k.a. Chakko, Teenaged Porn Addict
2. Leon De Taj, Electromancer
3. Tina Ryan, Heavy Metal Guitarist

VILLAINS:

1. Dominick Zola, Vampire Mob Boss
2. Markus Bathory, Red Knight
3. Bailey Krause, Mercenary

SYNOPSIS: Daniel Jameson is a high school student with a 3.7 grade point average and the admiration of his female classmates. Chakko, on the other hand, is the online alias he uses whenever he surfs the web for porn, both to use and to distribute to other teenagers. Chakko’s main crush is Tina Ryan, the super attractive heavy metal guitarist from an all-girl band called The Angry Amazons. The band is coming to his home town of Seattle, but Chakko may not get a chance to see them. During his internet moonlighting, he downloaded nude pictures of Bailey Krause, a member of Dominick Zola’s criminal empire. Dominick is not happy and wants to burn Chakko alive.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

I’ve been pumping out drawings like crazy and the next one on the chopping block will be Hacksaw, the orcish lumberjack from my eventual WSS contest entry “Wolf’s Cannonball”. He figures since he cuts down trees for a living, hacking the Big Bad Wolf to pieces won’t be any more of a struggle. The only difference is, trees aren’t capable of perfecting martial arts techniques. Be careful what you wish for, Hacksaw, because you just might get it.

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Human beings are nothing more than ordinary jungle beasts. Savages. No different from the Cro-Magnon men who lived 25,000 years ago in the plasticine forests eating grubs off of rotten logs. No different. Our DNA hasn’t changed substantially in 100,000 years. We’re still operating out of the lower brain. The reptilian brain. Fight of flight, kill or be killed. We like to think we’ve evolved and advanced, because we can build a computer, fly an airplane, travel underwater, paint a painting, write a poem, and compose an opera. But you know what? We’re barely out of the fucking jungle. We’re really just semi-civilized beasts with baseball caps and automatic weapons.”

-George Carlin-

Resting Bitch Face

***RESTING BITCH FACE***

I don’t take selfies very often unless it’s for Independent Author Day or Halloween (because I’m wearing a mask). I don’t own a smart phone, so I wouldn’t be able to take selfies anyways unless it was with my digital camera and someone else was the photographer. I don’t enjoy the way I look on camera (unless the photographer had some Photoshop magic to make me look like a sexy beast). But the biggest reason I don’t take selfies is because I don’t like to smile for fake reasons. As someone with Resting Bitch Face, smiling isn’t natural for me, so I don’t like being told to do it even for pictures.

Yes, Resting Bitch Face is a real thing for both men and women. It’s when your neutral expression makes you look annoyed, pissed off, or sad even though you’re not any of those things at the moment. If you have RBF, you’ve probably gotten tons of questions like “Are you okay?” and “What’s wrong?” in your lifetime. When I was dating Brianna, she would always ask if I was okay and I’d always answer yes. Whenever I went to a concert at the White River Amphitheater, the security personnel would also ask if I was okay and I’d give them the same answer.

And speaking of concerts, I saw Five Finger Death Punch in Tacoma back in November of last year and the couple sitting in front of me took a selfie with me looking angry in the background. We had a good laugh over it. But yes, it’s true: even when my heavy metal idols Five Finger Death Punch are the entertainment for the evening, I look like I want to strangle someone even though I’m feeling peaceful, if not excited for the music.

I Googled Resting Bitch Face and some search results said that it’s the reason people remain single or don’t get hired. So this is it, huh? I have to pretend to be something I’m not in order to gain an advantage in this world. Sounds familiar. Asking an RBF patient to smile relentlessly is like asking a skinny kid to be interested in football so that the big beefy jocks will like him. Yes, it seems like such an easy thing to just smile all the time. People say the same thing about introverts speaking up in class discussions or making a million friends. Just because it seems easy to an outsider, doesn’t mean it is for the person living the experience.

When it comes to my RBF, I don’t try to change it for other people. I own it. I make it a part of my unique personality. Do I have a million friends? No. Do I make millions of dollars in some job I wouldn’t want anyways? No. As a matter of fact, people in public tend to gravitate away from me, which is alright with me, because I don’t have to engage in small talk with people I don’t give a shit about.

Truth is, there’s no real reason why people make angry expressions when they feel neutral. It’s just the way it is. There’s no reason why people have big noses or pointy ears. It just happens. If you want to get a good feel for what a person is like beyond their rough exterior, show interest instead of just talking for the sake of talking. Maybe the guy with RBF is a poet and you don’t know it. Maybe the chick with RBF is an anime-loving nerd with more creative fuel than she knows what to do with. We’re not trying to push you away (unless you’re just there to chit-chat instead of showing genuine interest).

There are lots of articles and videos out there about RBF. I’m not a scientist who studies this phenomenon; I’m just an opinionated person who’s living through it. If you be nice to me, I’ll be nice to you. If you give me a reason to smile, I’ll give you what you’ve truly earned. Smiles have to be earned in this world; they’re not automatic. Some people deserve smiles, others don’t. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 20***

There are only two chapters remaining of this ongoing novel and the twentieth one will feature the final battle between Daniel Mercer and Roger Zee. Is it as simple as yelling obscenities into a magical microphone? Not when you have broken ribs and every scream hurts like a bitch. Perhaps someone else can do the dirty work, someone like Raven or Shawn. Nah, those guys are busy enough already trying to fend off King Arthur Triscloud, who has a crown of thorns around his head. If you were expecting an easy victory just because someone has a magical microphone, you’re sadly mistaken. If Daniel and his crew want to win this war, they have to earn it, just like strangers have to earn my smile.

Speaking of people with RBF…

***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***

If Samoa Joe and Kevin Owens ever become an official tag team, what will their group name be? Jowens? Samowens? Sevin? Hmm…

Computer Stiuation

***COMPUTER SITUATION***

Hey, everybody. I told some people on Good Reads and Face Book about my current computer situation, but I haven’t gone into full detail until now. So, ready or not, here it goes. Yesterday evening, I bought a new computer from Best Buy since my most recent one is nine years old and freezes too often for my tastes. I set up the new computer and do my usual things from downloading Google Chrome, downloading AVG Antivirus, and installing Microsoft Office 2003 (since it’s the only software that will read my backed up writing files).

So far, so good. And then I start ripping CD’s onto the new computer using Windows Media Player and that’s when everything turned to shit. Some CD’s were skipping even though they’re in mint condition and some CD’s have tracks that won’t rip at all (“Apex Predator” by Cavalera Conspiracy). And then when I want to use WMA or any other program for that matter, the computer freezes and goes to a black screen. Once I’m on the black screen, I’m not capable of doing anything, so I have to shut down the computer by hitting the power button.

The moral of the story: new computers shouldn’t freeze or act up in any way, shape, or form. Earlier today, we exchanged the recently bought freezing computer for a brand new one that hasn’t been set up yet. Chances are, the second computer will be better since two defective computers in one sitting is highly unlikely. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a backup plan. And a backup plan to go with that backup plan. And a backup plan to go with that backup plan. And so on and so forth.

I’m currently using my parents’ downstairs computer to write this journal, but it’s not the same as having my own, which means a few things will be hindered until the new computer is set up and a-okay. I had to drop out of the WSS contest this week, so there won’t be a short story called “Ninja” in the near future, though I may write it after the contest is over and add it to Poison Tongue Tales 2: Warrior Spirit anyways. There also won’t be rock songs for the day on Face Book and there won’t be any other forms of creativity until the computer is ready to go. Technology frustrates me, yet I can’t do business without it. Reina once joked that I was in an abusive relationship with my old computer. I can’t say she’s wrong or that she’s not funny. Hehe!

If it seems like I’m not on the internet as often as I used to be, it’s because of everything I just explained in this blog entry. I will say this: one way or another, my creative career will continue. I will have a working computer and I will keep plugging away. It’s hard to maintain a gung-ho attitude about all of this given how angry I get at malfunctioning technology, but it may be my saving grace. Good manners don’t cost anything, never forget Pink Floyd lyrics.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I’ll believe a long-nosed Pinocchio before I believe anything Kevin Owens has to say.”

-Byron Saxton aka BS-

WWE Royal Rumble: Dean Ambrose vs. Kevin Owens

MATCH: Dean Ambrose vs. Kevin Owens in a Last Man Standing match for Ambrose’s Intercontinental Championship
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Royal Rumble
YEAR: 2016
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass

Working the independent circuit in professional wrestling will put hair on your genitals. Working that many matches around the world will give you a myriad of styles that will ultimately become your move set. In Mexico, the luchadors fly around the ring like ninjas. In Japan, they hit each other hard enough to turn the human body into one big purple bruise. In Europe, they do the exact same thing, but with emphasis on technical brawling instead of honor-bound martial arts. And then when you finally make your trip to WWE NXT and ultimately their main roster, you’ll have the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand.

Such are the success stories of Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens, two badass warriors who cut their teeth for over a decade on the independent circuit. Dean Ambrose has United States and Intercontinental Championship reigns under his belt while Kevin Owens has NXT gold and an Intercontinental belt reign as well. At the Tables, Ladders, and Chairs pay-per-view in 2015, it was Dean Ambrose who won his first IC Championship from Kevin Owens. Ever since then, Owens has been in a horrible mood, bullying and brutalizing anybody in his path, Ambrose included.

There was only one way a rivalry of this much hatred could be settled: Last Man Standing rules at the Royal Rumble. There are no pin-falls, submissions, count-outs, or disqualifications. All you have to do to win this match is beat the living shit out of your opponent so badly that he cannot answer the referee’s ten-count. Heel announcer John Layfield put it best when he said the only thing limiting the competitors in this match is their own imaginations.

When you’re called The Lunatic Fringe like Dean Ambrose is, your schizophrenic visions pretty much guarantee you a colorful and violent imagination. Kevin Owens is a brawler by nature, so he’s no less dangerous with a steel chair or a wooden table. Ambrose and Owens wasted no time in putting their violent visions to good use. They started the match by slugging it out and watching each other get dizzy.

Then the action spilled to the outside and things really got chaotic. Kevin Owens was launched over the English-speaking announce table and landed in Michael Cole’s lap, thus breaking the poor guy’s glasses. Once he got power back in his headsets, Cole was actually cheering on Ambrose when he was swinging a bamboo cane at Owens.

Once the toys were out, they didn’t go to waste, no, sir. Kevin Owens power bombed Dean Ambrose through steel chairs, spear tackled him through the time keeper’s barricade, and fisherman suplexed him through a wooden table. And Ambrose was still staggering to his feet ready for a fight! The man doesn’t quit!

Then it was Ambrose’s turn to put a serious beating on his opponent. A double arm DDT on a steel chair would do the trick. So would an elbow drop through the Spanish announce table. And then there were more whacks with the bamboo stick. The steel stairs had seen crashes and burns from both men.

After enduring all of this hardcore violence, you would expect both men to be bleeding, burned out, and ready for ambulance rides. Hell, they hit each other so hard that maybe a hearse was necessary. They stood up on wobbly legs and punched each other some more. Kevin Owens gave his opponent a pop-up power bomb and Ambrose, being the loony tune he was, got up and wrapped a steel chair around Owens’ head before boxing him in the face.

A normal man would have quit under these combative circumstances. He would have nightmares for months and would have chugged enough Xanax to kill an elephant. He would have had hospital bills that most one-percent billionaires couldn’t even afford. These two warriors aren’t normal men. They get up and smash each other some more with steel chairs, bamboo canes, fists, feet, and head butts. And then they smash each other some more. And smash each other some more. At this point, the referee could count to a thousand. He could wait for a whole decade to go by and they would still thrash each other endlessly.

But it was one mistake by Kevin Owens that cost him the match. He set up two wooden tables outside the ring and stacked one on top of the other. Owens was also perched on the top turnbuckle, presumably for a moonsault. And then Dean Ambrose jolted back to life once more and shoved Owens off the turnbuckle, sending the Canadian grizzly crashing through both tables. Owens shivered several times in his laying position, but made no attempt to pull himself to his feet. At the count of ten, Dean Ambrose was declared the winner and undisputed Intercontinental Champion.

With the crowd chanting “This is awesome!” and carrying their momentum into the Royal Rumble match itself, it’s clear there were no losers in this match. Dean Ambrose is the rightful IC Champion, but Kevin Owens is a winner too in my mind. Those two beat the living shit out of each other so badly that they limped their way into the Royal Rumble match. How they weren’t even in wheelchairs was a mystery to everybody there. How Kevin Owens managed to eliminate fellow independent wrestler AJ Styles is beyond me. How Dean Ambrose was one of the final two men in that match left standing is something that would stump Nostradamus.

The fact that two men could put on an apocalyptic brawl and still be able to compete later on in the night should be a testament to how tough pro-wrestlers are. Getting clotheslined or body slammed is bad enough. Being driven through tables, smashed with a kendo stick, and slammed through steel chairs takes more guts than the stomach has room for. It was amazing Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens didn’t have their own guts spread all over the arena that night. Yes, it’s a TV-PG rated pay-per-view, but you wouldn’t know it from how banged up and battered these ring warriors were afterwards. I’d even say this is an early contender for Match of the Year in 2016. Congratulations, you two. You just made an entire arena full of people shit their pants with excitement. Now it REALLY looks like a battlefield out there!

My Cloudland Has a Sense of Humor

***MY CLOUDLAND HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR***

I’ve spoken candidly about my weird ass dreams before and I’m going to continue the tradition on this lovely Wednesday evening. I believe even the weirdest of weird dreams can serve as creative fuel. Marie Krepps, my beautiful beta reader, will definitely stand by my side on this one since she too has some weird ass dreams. Granted, these two I’m going to talk about make no fucking sense whatsoever, but that’s the beautiful thing about having a whacked out mind: it doesn’t have to. We’re going to start with dream number one.

　

I don’t remember too many of the details from the first dream other than it was a nightmare that made my heart race when I woke up at 11:00 in the morning. What I do remember was that it was about the clown from Brave Little Toaster and how he wanted to cut me up into little pieces. I tried to get away from him, but the only place where I could find refuge was with the Dust Witch from Something Wicked This Way Comes. Tarantulas scare the shit out of me, so I accepted my fate of being chopped up by the demon firefighter clown.

I had every intention this morning of getting out of bed and getting a buzz cut at Hair Masters. It didn’t happen. My hair is still shaggy and my dream world is still knocking at the door. I fell back asleep and started my second dream, which wasn’t necessarily a nightmare, but it was really goddamn weird.

I was doing research at the Western Washington University campus library, probably on graphic novels. I’m waiting for my study buddy to show up and when he finally does, he turns out to be French-Canadian WWE superstar Kevin Owens. He doesn’t try to beat me up or harass me like he usually does to his opponents in the ring. He does, however, offer to walk me home after the studying is over.

By the time we walk outside the library, we’re not in Bellingham, Washington anymore where WWU is supposed to be. We’re in Victoria, Canada, a favorite vacation spot of mine, but somehow different this time around. The Armenian Mafia was patrolling the streets of this normally crime-free city looking for people they could beat up. I guess Kevin Owens was supposed to be my bodyguard, because I was able to make it to my hotel room without being mugged.

Outside the hotel, there’s a large group of fat people doing exercises and being tired after the first few seconds. One of the exercise students was a woman so fat her entire torso was covered with a tool shed. She was sitting on a horse doing nothing and suddenly fell off to the side. The irony wasn’t lost on me when the class of exhausted fat people were laughing at her. But then they found it disgusting when a pair of disembodied legs wearing jeans walked by.

Me and my family minus Kevin Owens left the Canadian hotel and went down to the ferry terminal to catch a ride. We’re sitting on the dockside and there are these two cute British lesbians sitting across from us holding hands and being happy. Even though I know a relationship will never work between the three of us, I started feeling nervous around them anyways. So what did I do? I listened to Three Days Grace’s song “I Am Machine” on my MP3 player and picked my nose. When it doubt, be socially awkward. My social awkwardness has gotten me through everything in life.

The ferry arrives and we all get on to presumably go home. Except we didn’t go to Port Orchard, Washington. We went to London, England, where a horse and carriage was waiting for us. We’re on a two-way cobblestone street and somehow the different positions in the road lead to different countries. The right side will take us to Norway, the middle will take us to Germany, and the left side will take us to France. We get on the French side of the road and the carriage takes us there at a lightning fast pace.

Our destination ends up being a sandy beach with a lot of pollution and ducks in the water. I pull something mysterious out of my mouth and it turns out to be a baby black duck, which I throw into the water with its family. Reina asks me if this is a great vacation and I steadfastly agree.

I woke up at 1:10 in the afternoon and got on the computer to check my messages. No, this isn’t part of the dream, this is real life. When I was trying to read my Good Reads messages, the lines of text were all blurry, probably because I was still tired. I went back to bed and didn’t officially start my day until 2:20 in the afternoon. Still, no buzz cut at hair masters.

　

We’ve got ears! Say cheers!

　

***TELEVISION ISSUES***

Last night as I was watching NCIS: New Orleans, my flat screen TV burned out and stopped working. Prior to that, me and Reina kept smelling plastic and rubber burning, but we couldn’t figure out what it was. It was the TV this whole time. My other electronics work just fine, but not the flat screen TV. I originally wanted to review a wrestling match from WWE NXT Takeover: London, but without a TV, that’s not possible. I could watch it on my computer, but my internet connection isn’t always reliable. I’d have to find a way to download it onto my hard drive. Or I could buy another TV, that’d work too. Either way, I’ve already looked up the results online and I was genuinely surprised by them. Baron Corbin defeated Apollo Crews, Bayley made Nia Jax submit in order to keep her NXT Women’s Championship, and Finn Balor overcame Samoa Joe to keep his NXT Championship. I’m definitely going to have to find a way to watch this show.

　

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

The last entry into this series was Debra Winter, a hero from Occupy Wrestling. The next entry will be Cameron Gillespie, a villainess from Watch You Burn. For my reference picture, I Googled TNA wrestler Awesome Kong, who is a 6’1”, 295 lb. black woman with a nasty attitude and a hard-hitting repertoire of moves. I originally wanted Cameron Gillespie to be tall and lanky, but Awesome Kong’s massive frame will do just fine. Be afraid, bitches!

　

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

RANDAL: Do you know how much money the average jizz mopper makes per hour?

DANTE: What’s a jizz mopper?

RANDAL: They’re the guys who clean up the nudy booths after each guy jerks off.

DANTE: Nudy booth?

RANDAL: Yeah. Haven’t you ever been inside a nudy booth before?

DANTE: Guess not.

RANDAL: Aw, man, it’s great. You go into this booth and there’s this glass between you and these chicks and they put on a show for you for like ten bucks.

DANTE: What kind of a show?

RANDAL: Think of the weirdest, craziest shit you like to see chicks do. These chicks do it all. They’ll insert anything into any opening on their bodies. Any opening.

DANTE: Can we not talk about this right now?

RANDAL: The jizz mopper’s job is to clean up the nudy booths after each guy shoots a load. Everybody does it right on the glass. I don’t know if you know this or not, but cum leaves streaks if you don’t clean it right away.

-Clerks-

Makeshift Wrestling Teams

***MAKESHIFT WRESTLING TEAMS***

Whether you’re a wrestling fan or not, this journal is strictly for my own amusement. I have a raunchy sense of humor with a little bit of Peter Pan Syndrome going on, so I can’t let this opportunity at cheap laughs to slide. Anyways, if you’re a wrestling fan, you know who Team PCB are. The acronym in their team name is made up of their first initials: Paige, Charlotte, and Becky Lynch. They used to be called The Submission Sorority, but when WWE found out that the name was already being used for a porn movie title, they took the route of using initials. And that got me thinking…what other makeshift teams can be formed the same way? Hmmm….

　

1. Kane, Kalisto, and Konnor (Team KKK)

2. Goldust, Ryback, and Rusev (Team GRR)

3. Cesaro, The Undertaker, Neville, and Tamina (Team CUNT)

4. Kevin Owens, Christian, and Kane (Team KOCK)

5. Fandango, The Undertaker, Cesaro, and Kane (Team FUCK)

6. Sin Cara, The Undertaker, and The Miz (Team SCUM)

7. Sin Cara and Adam Rose (Team SCAR)

8. Big E and Diego (Team BED)

9. Jimmy Uso, Neville, and Konnor (Team JUNK)

10. Hornswoggle and Erick Rowan (Team HER)

11. Sting, Hideo Itami, and Tamina (Team SHIT)

12. Blake, Alex Riley, and Fernando (Team BARF)

13. Randy Orton and Adam Rose (Team ROAR)

14. Bayley and Alberto Del Rio (Team BAD)

　

There. It’s all out of my system. I couldn’t be more proud of myself. I love having Peter Pan Syndrome. Hehe! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***EDITING PRIORITIES***

With Occupy Wrestling holding a rating of 2-75 stars and Poison Tongue Tales being close to hitting the 50^th story, it seems as though I’ve come to a crossroads when it comes to editing and working with the ultra awesome Marie Krepps, who’s tough when it matters and a kick-ass best friend. She insists that Occupy Wrestling should take priority since it’s already on the market and she doesn’t want it to be unfairly judged. Good point. Damn good point. But she also said that the decision was ultimately up to me when it came to which book I should edit. I took that to heart when I made my decision. The decision is, why can’t I work on them side-by-side? Is singular focus so sacred that these books can’t coexist in the same process? One day could be spent bulldozing short stories, the next day could be spent editing the hell out of individual OW chapters, and the cycle will repeat until both books are finished. Granted, it will require a great deal of discipline, but that’s something I’m capable of showing even during my low energy days.

　

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTEST AND COMPANY***

It’s a new week at the WSS and the prompt is “Fireworks”. The story I produce for that prompt won’t be part of Poison Tongue Tales since it’s a modern drama. It’s called “Football Sucks” and it goes like this:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Irwin Gladden, New Mayor of Paulson City
Fred Jacobs, Irwin’s Bodyguard
Random Protesters

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Protesters set off fireworks as part of their demonstration.

　

SYNOPSIS: As Irwin’s first official act as mayor, he plans on balancing the city budget by converting a taxpayer-funded football stadium into the city’s largest public library. He even goes so far as to taunt opponents of this measure by saying, “Football sucks”. The morning after making this announcement, Irwin has an army of protesters outside his political headquarters and things don’t get better when Fred enters the room dizzy and bleeding.

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

Last night, I wrote story number 48, which was “Wasteland”. Story number 49 will be called “Mastodon” and it goes like this:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Christopher Brown, Bounty Hunter
Courtney Robyn, Psychotic Criminal

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

　

SYNOPSIS: In a Dungeons & Dragons-like atmosphere, the city of Middlesex is overrun with criminals and it’s up to human fighter Christopher Brown to capture them for a reward. His latest hunt is Courtney Robyn, a psychotic serial killer whose body count is in the hundreds. Just when he’s closing in on her location, Courtney comes stampeding through the streets riding on a mastodon, crushing everyone in her path.

　

And in case you were wondering, no, Christopher Brown isn’t based on the rapper Chris Brown, although the former’s job requires him to fight a female serial killer. I swear it’s only a coincidence, though. I swear on my mother’s grave (even though she’s still alive).

　

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

The next drawing to come from this series will be of Elizabeth Dempsey, a human ranger from Blood Brawl who is in no way related to Brock Dempsey from Maggie’s Wisdom. It’s amazing that even though Blood Brawl is suspended, I still have the desire to draw the characters from that would-be novel. The more, the merrier I say.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If I hear one note out of that trombone, I’m going to send all three of you to a place that makes Suplex City look like Disneyland!”

-Stephanie McMahon to The New Day-

Zombies

***ZOMBIES***

When it comes to the horror genre, the new generation is obsessed with three creatures in particular: vampires, werewolves, and zombies. The latter of those three is what this journal is about. We seem to have an unhealthy obsession with zombies these days whether it’s the zombie apocalypse, zombie strippers, or zombie lovers. What we don’t talk about, though, are the zombies who live in the real world. These zombies don’t hunger for brains. They don’t eat flesh. They’re not even necessarily dead. The only death they experience is on the inside. They’re mentally exhausted, emotionally heartbroken, and spiritually lifeless. They come in many forms whether it’s the working stiff, the mentally ill, the insomniac, or just someone who’s been dealt a shitty hand by life itself.

These are the zombies I want to talk about. Unfortunately, very few people want to talk about them with me. The zombies I empathize with are written off as “weak” and “lazy”. Those two slurs are used by the more fortune ones in our lives who don’t experience the same struggles the zombies do. There are two slurs for people like that as well: “spoiled” and “ignorant”. Do these people actually think the life of someone living in a constant haze is glorious? We all aspire to work hard and improve our situations. But if we can’t wake up from our hazy states, sometimes we have to take a step back and reevaluate things.

If you can’t get anything accomplished due to your constant state of numbness, know that you’re not alone and you’re certainly not “weak”. Your struggles don’t make you “lazy”. In the words of Maria Brink when she sings the In This Moment song “Out of Hell”, “Your struggles make you beautiful.” When you experience failures in your life that lead to emotional numbness, overcoming them is a sweet victory. But sometimes in your battles with the world, you have to lose a few. Nobody likes to lose, especially to an opponent as invisible as a mental wound.

The word “zombie” can also be a slur in and of itself, but know that when I use it, I don’t intend for it to be. In fact, giving a dark fantasy name to a modern world struggle is a good way to ignite anybody’s imagination. The thing about zombies in dark fantasy media is that it takes a lot to kill them. No matter how badly they’re beaten, they keep getting up and feasting on their opponents even more. If you’re experiencing a loss in your battles with your mind and body, know that it’s only temporary. You will have your victory in due time and when you do, it’ll be one well-earned. How’s that for being “weak”, Mr. Ignoramus?

We may be drowning in our own sorrows, but drown as we may, we know what fresh oxygen feels and tastes like. Our little victories aren’t little at all. To say otherwise would earn you the “ignorant” and “spoiled” slurs I spoke of earlier. If you’re an author who’s trying to wake up long enough to write a story, don’t beat yourself up for your story being imperfect. If you’re a mother dragging yourself along to get everything done in addition to tending to your children, then be proud of yourself no matter what the outcome. If you’re working nine to five in a call center and you fucking hate your job, don’t allow the negativity of customers to put you in a deeper slumber.

Waking up from the zombie-like state is a great victory no matter who you are. But when we wake up, it won’t be because of negative attitudes. It’ll be because we engaged this mental monster with our hearts and souls. We’ve got ears, say cheers! If for some reason you think I sound like Kevin McCarthy right now, know that I’m one of the zombies I talked about this whole time.

　

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

It’s a new week of contests and the prompt is “The Last Goodbye”, which was something I personally harvested from my new Disturbed CD called “Immortalized”. Most of my prompt ideas come from CD’s I’ve purchased recently and being the music hunter I am, that’s a lot of goddamn prompts. I’m happy that Ryan Stone used one of mine this week. He’s an awesome guy! This week’s story will be something I originally intended to do independently, but since it fits the prompt, I’ll write it for the contest. It’s called “The Happy Slasher” and it goes like this:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Lisa Roberts, Sheriff
Cletus Jung, Serial Killer

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: After this story is over, only one of these two characters will be saying their last goodbyes while the other perishes.

　

SYNOPSIS: In the wild west, Lisa has been investigating a string of murders in her desert town of Tombstone. She’s ready to call it a night and heads toward the saloon for a frosty beer. After a few chugs, she passes out on the ground and wakes up bound and gagged in Cletus’ dungeon. Cletus reveals himself to be “The Happy Slasher” and the reason for his string of murders is all because he asked Lisa on a date and she “rudely” turned him down. This loser in love now plans to butcher Lisa with an overly sharpened machete.

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

The most recent story from this series I edited was “The Beautiful People”. I thought it was going to be a miserable experience and it turned out to be yet another cakewalk. The next one I plan on doing is “Conform”, which is about two necromancers who try to control a single zombie (we’ve come full circle with the zombie theme). It’ll have a new title, but the story will be the same albeit improved.

　

　

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

For a novel that barely had the chance to take off, I’m sure taking a liking to drawing pictures of Blood Brawl characters. The next one I plan on doing is of Balrog Deathtrap, a Halfling monk who serves as the main villain of the demon town Aragon. Yes, his race says he’s a Halfling, but his hideous features will dictate otherwise. Hehe!

　

***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

RICH BRENNAN: Do you think Renee Young was giving you a hard time about not being a real Canadian?
KEVIN OWENS: I don’t know, Rich, does anybody give you a hard time about looking like Millhouse from The Simpsons?

Common Values

***COMMON VALUES***

I’m going to go ahead and ask the million dollar question. In order for a relationship to work, do the two people involved have to have things in common or is it really true that opposites attract? I’m not just talking about romantic relationships; I also mean business, family, and friendly relationships. I’ve heard arguments for both answers to that question, but I still can’t make heads or tails of it all. Then again, my relationships in life are limited to my family and internet friends, so it could be that I lack the necessary experience to make this judgment call. But I’m going to try and do it anyways, just for the sake of argument. That, and I’m desperate for journal topics.

Let’s say you’re someone who believes that the two people have to have at least one thing in common with each other. When you have that one thing the two of you share, you can give each other some great conversations and even better feedback on how to make that activity better. You both like online gaming? Great! Then buy a copy of Diablo III and rock out with your cock out. You both like soccer? Awesome! Go to soccer matches together and hold hands. Having something to bond over keeps the relationship from getting stale.

And then there’s the other school of thought in which like protons and electrons in chemistry, opposites attract. There actually are couples out there who practice this idea. You’ve got liberals getting together with conservatives, geeks with cheerleaders, rebels with conformists, introverts with extroverts, the list goes on and on. The argument I’ve heard in support of this is that nobody wants to have a relationship with someone who is exactly like them since the two people would get tired of each other quickly. While those two would have a lot to bond over, maybe too much bonding can lead to a lack of privacy.

After going over the two schools of thought, I’m riding the fence with this one. I want to have at least a few things in common with the other person, but not everything. That’s why I have such a hard time talking to the barbers at Hair Masters. Disgust for small talk aside, when I hear about their interests and values, I find out that we have nothing to bond over.

How am I supposed to talk about how “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” turned me into an emotional wreck when the hairdresser wants to read books about World War II? Can I even get one word edgewise about how lethal Kevin Owens’ pop-up power bomb is when the other person would rather watch the Seattle Seahawks run around and pounce on other teams? What if I want to talk about Dimebag Darrell’s shredding techniques to someone who listens to country songs about losing their goddamn truck? That kind of polarity can make me feel lonely.

Of course, I could take some initiative and actually introduce the other person to my values and interests, but I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing myself on them. When I was a middle schooler in Chehalis, Washington, I tried relentlessly to get my friends to share my interest in those Dick Tracy cartoons from the 1960’s. You know the ones, with racial stereotypes like Go-Go Gomez, Hemlock Holmes, Joe Jitsu, and Sketch Paree. Since Chehalis is swarming with rightwing nut jobs, they probably would have eaten that shit up with a spoon. But apparently, the Dick Tracy trend never caught on. Oh well. At least I learned not to force my values on other people.

So, ladies and gentlemen. Where do your loyalties lie in this debate? Should your friends and paramours have similar interests or do opposites really attract? Share your experiences with me and let’s have a fucking conversation. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***BOOK REVIEWS***

The next time I post a book review on my social networking sites, Good Reads, and Amazon, it will be “So…I Met a Vampire” by Paul McAvoy. I’m only 63 pages into it, but the book itself is approximately 180 pages and the writing style is so fast-paced that I can blow through it probably by tomorrow afternoon. If not, then the day after. I always close my commitments to fellow indie authors. Never forget that.

　

***BLOOD BRAWL***

I don’t really know when chapter three will be written, but when it is, it’ll feature a chase scene between Ivan Blackstone and the female rogue who will later be identified as Justine Dupree (not the biggest spoiler I can give). Really, wouldn’t you run too if an orc in a trench coat and hood was chasing you down the streets with a big ass scythe? Especially if you thought he looked like the Grim Reaper from a distance and knew his name was Ivan fucking Blackstone.

　

***MOVIE OR TV SHOW REVIEW***

Though it’s not the freshest thing in my mind right now, my next movie review will be about Kung Fu Panda. This movie has everything I could ever want: martial arts action, animal warriors, and a story where a complete nobody becomes a conquering hero over the course of the movie. Uh-oh! Did I just give away a spoiler? Come on, you knew that shit was coming from miles away. It’s not about IF the hero conquers. It’s about HOW. Never forget that.

　

***WRESTLING OR MMA MATCH REVIEW***

I’ve been giving out passing grades like it’s fucking Christmas lately. Though the season of giving is drawing near, I’m afraid I’ll have to play the role of The Grinch when it comes to a UFC fight between Jake Ellenberger and Rory MacDonald. There was a lot of trash talking before the fight actually happened. In fact, Jake Ellenberger said that Rory MacDonald is “faker than the food he’s named after”. A guy with “berger” in his last name is making a fast food joke about someone named MacDonald. The irony is killing me, but not nearly as much as the boredom resonating from this god-awful fight.

　

***DRAWINGS***

Technically, the short story “Bleed For Weed” is a contemporary drama, not a dark fantasy story. It will be included in American Darkness 2: Black State, not Poison Tongue Tales. When I draw Riff De La Luka, can he really be considered a “dark fantasy warrior”? Of course he can, because I fucking said so!

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Women are always trying to make their men feel better about sex. ‘Oh, it’s not the size of the boat that matters; it’s the motion of the ocean.’ That may be true, but it’s hard to sail to England in a rowboat.”

-Jeff Foxworthy-

WWE Payback: John Cena vs. Rusev

MATCH: John Cena vs. Rusev in an “I Quit” match for Cena’s United States Championship
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Payback
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass


Ever since arriving in the WWE in early 2014, Rusev has been an unstoppable force. With his manager slash girlfriend Lana as his mouthpiece, the two of them represented the Russian federation and Vladimir Putin in their quest to show how “weak” the United States of America is. With an undefeated streak that extended all the way to Wrestlemania of 2015 and a United States Championship reign, Rusev made a convincing case as to why he should be taken seriously. His endless victories were over the likes of Sheamus, Dolph Ziggler, Mark Henry, The Big Show, and the biggest American patriot of them all, Jack Swagger. He also caught the attention of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter in the form of two positive awards for 2014: Most Improved and Best Gimmick (alongside Lana as Russian nationalists).

To stop this runaway train known as Rusev, who is north of 300 lbs. and has backgrounds as a rower, a sumo wrestler, and a Muay Thai kick boxer, it would take someone who was not only known for winning big matches, but also for winning them consistently over the course of a 13-year career. That man was the 15-time World Champion, proud American patriot, and future Hall of Famer, John Cena. Cena couldn’t get the job done at WWE Fast Lane due to him passing out in Rusev’s submission hold The Accolade, which is really just his own version of a Camel Clutch. At Wrestlemania of that year, however, John Cena not only pinned Rusev, but handed the Russian nationalist his first defeat and took away the United States Championship.

By being undefeated for a lengthy period of time and beating the best in the world, Rusev made the United States Championship a legitimate award once again. John Cena continued that tradition when he issued a weekly open challenge for the title every night on Raw. So what kind of match would finally end the rivalry between two legitimate badass athletes who are so proud of their respective countries? How about an “I Quit” match at Payback. The rules of that match are exactly how they sound: there are no pin falls, submissions, count-outs, or disqualifications. The only way to win the match is to get your opponent to say “I Quit” when the referee holds a microphone to his face.

The match at Payback could very well be a top contender for Match of the Year and could catapult John Cena vs. Rusev in the Feud of the Year as well. Considering the fact that neither athlete would ever say “I Quit” (John Cena has a spotless record in this kind of match), they would have to do some horribly violent things to each other that not only hurt physically, but broke their spirits.

And boy did they ever torture each other. Rusev put on a martial arts clinic with his Muay Thai kicks and bullied John Cena around throughout much of the opening part of the match. But then as the match started taking place around the arena, Cena and Rusev were really turning up their game. They put each other through tables, threw each other against electrical equipment, rammed each other into barricades, there was even a spot when John Cena threw Rusev into the pyrotechnics area and ignited the fireworks. And Rusev still wouldn’t say “I Quit”! So John Cena suplexed Rusev through a metal barricade and bent the damn thing in half. Guess what: Rusev still wouldn’t quit!

The action returned to the ring and a desperate Rusev loosened to the top rope and bound it across John Cena’s face as he went for The Accolade. While Cena didn’t say, “I Quit”, he did pass out. However, passing out does not constitute a victory like it did at Fast Lane when it was one fall to a finish. The Russian nationalist would have to wake Cena up and try again. Except this time Cena was ready. He dropped Rusev on his stomach and applied his own submission hold, the STF, with the rope bound across the anti-American’s nose.

Referee Mike Chioda held the microphone to Rusev’s face and asked if he wanted to quit. Instead of giving a definitive answer, he started rambling on in a foreign language, either Russian (like his gimmick says he is) or Bulgarian (his actual native tongue). The only one who could translate what he was saying was his manager Lana, who promptly told the referee her boyfriend said “I Quit” and mercifully ended the match with John Cena still the United States Champion.

The ending to this match was shrouded in controversy since Rusev was rambling in a foreign language and didn’t make himself clear as to whether or not he actually quit the match. Lana basically had to throw in the towel for him, which made Rusev angry enough to want to dump his girlfriend and be on his own. The angry Bulgarian was supposed to compete at the Elimination Chamber event on the WWE Network for the Intercontinental Championship, but he fractured his ankle and put himself on the injured reserve list, though he still made appearances to harass Lana.

As for John Cena, the United States Championship is still a symbol of excellence and an example of American pride. He would eventually be defeated at the Elimination Chamber pay-per-view, but not for his championship. Instead it was a non-title match versus another brash up-and-comer, the NXT Champion Kevin Owens. Cena made Owens work hard for his victory and forced him to pull off flashy high risk moves that don’t normally come from a guy Owens’ size. Putting over Kevin Owens was a brave move on the part of WWE management and considering everything John Cena has been through not only with Rusev, but also his entire career, it was a worthy victory.

The future looks bright for both athletes despite a monumental loss for John Cena and an ankle injury for Rusev. High profile matches are written in the stars for these two deadly athletes and nobody is more deserving. Congratulations, you two, on putting on a badass match at Payback!

WWE NXT R Evolution: Adrian Neville vs. Sami Zayn

MATCH: Adrian Neville vs. Sami Zayn for the former’s NXT Championship
PROMOTION: WWE NXT
EVENT: R Evolution
YEAR: 2014
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass


I’m not what anybody would call an “smark” when it comes to professional wrestling. The only way I know about a wrestler’s popularity is through how many positive awards they have won from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter (or at least have been nominated for). Whenever an award winner or nominee enters NXT, I’m always excited to see their debut whether it’s KENTA aka Hideo Itami, Bryan Danielson aka Daniel Bryan, or Kevin Steen aka Kevin Owens. Such was the case for the two NXT Championship contenders Adrian Neville and El Generico aka Sami Zayn.

These two wrestlers in particular have a lot in common. They’re both high-flying cruiserweights who defy gravity just for fun. They’re both technical geniuses when it comes to mat wrestling and martial arts. They’re both popular outside of the United States thanks to the advent of the internet. They both gained most of their experience in smaller promotions. Most importantly, these two ring warriors are the best of friends. There is one thing that separates them, however: prior to this match, Adrian Neville was a successful and long-reigning NXT Champion while Sami Zayn consistently lost important matches. So what does Sami Zayn do about it? Two things. He wrestles more aggressively and he puts his career on the line in this match.

The buildup to this match with Sami Zayn as the ultimate underdog was efficient enough to make Zayn and Neville’s feud worthy of another award from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter. With all this pressure on both men, you know they’re going to have to deliver an exciting and unforgettable match. It can’t just be good; it has to be excellent. It has to launch someone into an early Hall of Fame nomination. It has to be a permanent fixture not only on the audience’s DVR’s, but also their memories. And goddamn, did these two over-deliver.

If there was any slowness in this match, it was brief, yet important when it comes to building further drama. The rest of the match was one fast-paced, explosive, deadly battle. We got to see both wrestlers use their favorite moves and make them look good all over again. Whether it was a spike hurricanrana from Adrian Neville, an exploder suplex from Sami Zayn, an over the top rope splash to the floor from both men, a diving outside corner DDT from Zayn, or a sit-out jackknife power bomb from Neville, you’re getting your money’s worth in this match.

These two men hurt each other in the most creative and death-defying ways possible. They flew through the air and slammed each other to the ground with earth shattering force. It was amazing the mat nor the ground had body-shaped holes in them afterwards with this cartoonish display of physics. And just like a cartoon, they kept getting back up after every painful shot.

While the action was certainly a thrilling aspect of the match, the drama was just as capable of bringing people to the edge of their seats. The NXT commentators and Adrian Neville prior to this match questioned Sami Zayn’s willingness to take shortcuts to win big matches. Sami was the ultimate baby face in that he never gave in to the urge to cheat in any of his matches. Even when it mattered the most, Sami stayed true to his moral code.

When the referee was unconscious for the first time in the match, Sami checked to see if he was okay. When the referee got knocked out again and the championship belt was introduced to the ring, Sami struggled with himself as to whether he should use it as a weapon while no authority members were looking. He ended up tossing the belt and winning the honest way: by T-bone suplexing Neville into the turnbuckle and finishing him off with the Helluva Kick. When Sami Zayn went for the final pin, he got the 1-2-3 that evaded him for so long in the match and the NXT Championship was finally his.

When Sami Zayn won the title, it was the greatest victory in his wrestling career. The entire NXT roster, both heels and baby faces, celebrated with him and hoisted him high on their shoulders. He even continued to do the right thing when he extended his hand for a frustrated Adrian Neville to shake. Neville held that championship for a majority of 2014, so it was understandable that he kicked Sami’s hand away. But that kick was only to give way to an even bigger show of sportsmanship: a hug. Batista once said it to Eddie Guerrero in 2005 before the latter died: friends don’t shake hands; friends hug!

The ring was clearing of NXT superstars, Adrian Neville among them. All that was left was for Sami Zayn’s other longtime friend Kevin Owens to come out and congratulate him. These two grew up together in Ring of Honor and the independent circuit. They even won the 2010 award for Feud of the Year from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter. Zayn and Owens did everything together. And then the unthinkable happened. Just when spirits couldn’t get any higher, Kevin Owens slammed Sami Zayn to the steel ramp and then power bombed his longtime friend against the edge of the ring, which is said to be the hardest part of the wrestling structure. Kevin Owens gave no further explanation for his actions while his best friend was wheeled out of the arena in an ambulance.

The high octane action and the mind-blowing drama come together to make a special match for NXT fans. They jumped out of their seats for the high flying moves, cheered like animals during the martial arts kicks, punches, and throws, cried like babies during Sami Zayn’s celebration, and cried even harder when Kevin Owens beat the crap out of him. Everything about this match was done to perfection by professional wrestlers with over a decade of experience. All of this hard work built up to this memorable moment. It will live within the fans forever, either as a haunting ghost or as an excited spirit.