"MOX" by Jon Moxley

BOOK TITLE: MOX

AUTHOR: Jon Moxley

YEAR: 2021

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Wrestling Memoir

GRADE: B

Jon Moxley’s road to the top of the pro-wrestling world was paved in blood, both his own and his opponents’. He grew up in a poor neighborhood that could have served as the first stage of Final Fight. He trained in a wrestling gym so torturous that it might as well have been located in Guantanamo Bay. He developed a psychotic persona to go along with the level of violence required for death matches. He joined the WWE and became part of one of the most dominant trios in wrestling history: The Shield. Sick of the creative black hole the company became, he let his contract expire and reinvented himself in places like New Japan and All-Elite Wrestling. This is just a summary of what he went through, but to read about it through his words is a vicarious experience like no other. Every exhaustion he feels, you feel. Every splatter of blood he spills, you feel that too. Every burst of raw anger he feels, it tugs at your soul as well. Jon Moxley definitely has a fascinating enough story to justify a nonfiction book.

Because he’s not a professionally-trained author, it becomes apparent right away that he writes exactly how he talks. Swear words, pop culture comparisons, brutal imagery that could be read in his voice, it’s all there. Normally, an author would receive a lot of grief for this sort of thing, but he won’t get it from me. I for one enjoy this conversational tone, because he’s got a colorful personality to back it up. It would be one thing if he talked like an IRS accountant. But since he’s a violent brawler with a hard edge to him, that makes his writing style even more exciting to read. That kind of personality is necessary when describing the bloodshed he went through in his ultra-intense matches. Can you imagine if a comedic, lighthearted style in the vein of Carl Hiaasen or Sherman Alexie was applied to this kind of narrative? It wouldn’t make sense.

While this book was a master class in showing personality and being an all-around tough guy, it’s not without its flaws. Remember how I said that Jon Moxley isn’t a professionally-trained author? Well, that means he’s going to make a lot of typos when he writes and he’s not going to notice them. There are instances of question marks and periods being together. He swaps between using F’n and the actual curse word. Some of the misspellings make sense because of his rough personality, but it’s so inconsistent that no sane editor would let it slide. You know what else the editor wouldn’t let slide? Starting a sentence midway through it without typing the actual beginning. That’s how he introduces an interlude where he talks about one of his favorite songs: no capitalization at the beginning because there is no beginning, only a middle. Had the editor done a better job of cleaning up these discrepancies, I would have readily given this book a perfect five out of five. But the constant typos bumped it down a notch for me.

Okay, so MOX isn’t a perfect book. Not many people outside the wrestling bubble would get excited about it. Maybe the typos would be too much for them to handle. But you know what? I love the book anyways. I love it so much that I wanted it to win Best Pro-Wrestling Book of 2021 from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awards. And guess what? I got my wish! And if you pick up this book wanting an exciting story, you’ll get your wish too! Four out of five stars! Maybe seven if it was written in the Tokyo Dome. I bet Meltzer’s heard that joke so many times that he just shrugs it off nowadays.

Goodbye WWE

***GOODBYE WWE***

I’ve been watching WWE television since 1991 with a brief vacation from the product during the Attitude Era. I’m sorry to say that now I’ll be taking a permanent vacation from the product here in 2018. I tried to hold on. I tried to see the silver linings. I tried to remain faithful purely out of habit and hope. But Raw and Smackdown have gotten so unbearable to watch that I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t care about the wrestlers as characters, the ones I do care about are being made into walking punch lines, and all of this under a three hour and two hour show respectively just makes watching WWE a miserable experience.

That’s not to say that I’m abandoning wrestling completely. This is the same form of entertainment that inspired me to write a novella called Occupy Wrestling, which isn’t doing so well in terms of sales or ratings, but it’s still my baby and I love it. There are certainly other wrestling shows outside of WWE. New Japan Pro-Wrestling constantly gets praised by hardcore fans, but the one promotion I really want to start watching is Lucha Underground, which is presented in the form of a dark fantasy serial drama rather than a pure wrestling show. I want some dark magic in my wrestling, damn it! I want necromancy! I want creatures! I want death (fictional, of course)! And the best part about this? Lucha Underground is on Netflix and I can binge watch it anytime I want. All I have to do is figure out how my brother’s TV works, because his is the only one that has Netflix access.

You won’t get necromancy in WWE. You know what you’ll get? Toilet humor. Unfunny kid jokes. Terrible storytelling. Lackluster pay-per-views. NXT call-ups who fail on the main roster. The list goes on and on until the end of time. I’m not even going to get into Most Disgusting Promotional Tactics this year, because those award nominations are peanuts compared to a boring product. I kept watching throughout the years because I hoped things would change and eventually get better. I’m still waiting for that change. I’m still waiting for Vince McMahon to step down and relinquish control to someone else. Nope. Not happening. I’ve waited too long and now it’s all over.

So what do I do now that WWE Raw and Smackdown are no longer going to play on my TV? I’ve already mentioned the possibilities of watching New Japan and Lucha Underground. But what about non-wrestling shows that I’ve missed out on over the years? James’s TV is capable of digging up those old shows and I can watch them anytime I want. I could finally watch “A Room With No View” from Millennium and cry my eyeballs dry while wanting to heal Landon Bryce. I could binge watch Outlander and cry even harder when Jamie Fraser gets raped at Wentworth Prison by Captain John Randall. I could watch Gilmore Girls and cry happy tears instead of sad ones. I could watch Dragon Ball Super and take back my anime fan card. I could watch Game of Thrones and bypass the slow-paced books altogether. Or I could cry my ass off once again watching a dark comedy show known as BoJack Horseman. Goddamn, that’s a lot of crying! Could my 2007 record be broken by one of these shows?

As long as I’m looking for hobbies outside of writing, reading, and fucking around on my computer, what else could I do to keep my brain from sinking into a depression? I could play the keyboard and get my musical magic working again. I could play videogames with my brother even though noobs are shunned by the gaming community. I could do some more photography, but with different subjects. I could carve things out of my five million soap bars. I could make plans to travel the world even though plane rides are a literal pain in the ass. So many possibilities, all of which could keep me entertained long enough to avoid overeating out of boredom. Yes, eating out of boredom is a real thing and it’s one of the reasons I’m still overweight.

Shit, man, there are a lot of things I could be doing that are better than watching WWE. I could shove a cactus up my ass. I could have my cat Piper perform a lobotomy on me with her claws. I could jam a screwdriver up my dickhole. I could listen to “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat over and over again while having a cute girl tell me how much she loves my mediocrity, although that’s not fair to Paul Mauriat since that’s actually a relaxing song. I could do Tope Suicidas down the staircase, to reference wrestling once again. I could perform a circumcision on myself with a steak knife. I know I’m exercising my hyperbole muscles when I say these torturous things are better than watching WWE, but certain podcasters like Jason Solomon and Greg Morgan would actually agree with me if they read this.

I’m only one and a half pages into this rant and already I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Goddamn, that was liberating! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Or in this case, if you feel like dying, turn off WWE Raw!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER RELOADED***

I figured these blogs would be a good opportunity to track my progress on Beautiful Monster since I can’t post the chapters online. I’ll go ahead and say that the prologue is finally written and I have twenty-seven more chapters to write, including an epilogue. I like the fact that I could stretch Windham’s introspection out into 1,500 words, but I fear he’s still an emo kid of sorts. I’ll try to tone that shit down in the oncoming chapters. Chapter one is where Windham will get captured and taken to Shelly’s bedroom for sex slavery. Windham can bypass the dungeon altogether, because Shelly is head over heels in love with him. Sound familiar?

***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I asked myself the question. I wrestled with myself. Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Are people going to embrace it or are people going to stab me in the fucking heart? And I said fuck it, I trust them. I’m putting it out there. And if it happened to me, it probably happened to someone else. Hopefully, this song will help anybody that this has happened to. I want you to know that you’re never alone. This is a song called Hush.”

-Chad Gray, lead singer from Hellyeah-

***POST-SCRIPT***

In case you follow my posts about concerts and are curious, no, I haven’t been to a Hellyeah show before and I might not get the chance now that Vinnie Paul Abbot is dead. That makes me sad. Who’s cutting onions around here? I’m not crying, you’re crying! I’m not watching Outlander, you are! I’m not watching A Room with No View, okay, you get the point by now. Rest in peace, Vinnie Paul.

"YES!" by Daniel Bryan

BOOK TITLE: YES!: My Improbable Journey to the Main Event at Wrestlemania
AUTHOR: Daniel Bryan (with Craig Tello)
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Nonfiction
SUBGENRE: Pro-Wrestling Memoir
GRADE: Pass


In this David vs. Goliath life story, little Aberdeen, Washington boy Bryan Danielson gets hooked on wrestling from watching The Ultimate Warrior, Bret Hart, Chris Benoit, and Dean Malenko on TV. He became so passionate about it that after graduating high school, he got in his car and traveled to San Antonio, Texas to learn how to wrestle. He went from wrestling in Wal-Mart parking lots to the Tokyo Dome, from high school gyms to reputable American arenas, from English carnivals to his ultimate destination, the New Orleans Superdome, where he won the WWE World Heavyweight Championship by defeating three future Hall of Famers in one long, grueling night.

What makes this life story so amazing is that nobody expected the now christened Daniel Bryan to make it as far as he did. There are hundreds of thousands of wrestlers all over the world and only a select few of them achieve universal fame and fortune. Daniel Bryan is way under six feet tall, only slightly north of 200 lbs., and has more facial hair than a Serengeti lion. Against much bigger opponents, Daniel seemed like the ultimate underdog. He took a lot of beatings and suffered many horrific injuries along his path to success, but that’s what paying your dues in the wrestling industry is all about. Not only had Daniel Bryan paid his dues, but he paid 100% interest.

Daniel is the kind of person you want to see succeed and part of it is because of his personality. If you were to approach this man on the streets, you would find him to be a friendly, laidback, humble human being. He knows wrestling doesn’t owe him anything, in fact, he owes wrestling everything. Underneath all of that modesty is a fiery passion that pushes him through the worst obstacles in his life. Whether those obstacles are amassing a ten match losing streak on a boring WWE sideshow or losing his father and crying relentlessly because of it, Daniel Bryan will not stay down for anything. He’ll tell you everything’s okay one minute and burst into passionate flames the next. It’s part of his Gemini Syndrome, or his dual nature as most people call it.

If you’re in an absolute hurry to get through this book, don’t worry, it’s a fast read. It may not feel that way with Craig Tello’s play-by-play introductions at the beginning of each chapter, but over time you get used to having an extra writer there to narrate the action. Daniel Bryan’s own writing style is no-nonsense and to the point, which is a style most fast-paced writers employ. However, with too little description and liberal use of the word “very”, it’s easy to tell that Daniel Bryan doesn’t write for a living. I’m not saying this is a badly written book, because it’s not. But if you’re expecting a celebrity memoir, you’ve got one.

I’ve been a Daniel Bryan fan ever since I started paying attention to the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awards in 2008. I hadn’t seen one Daniel Bryan match prior to NXT in 2010, but apparently he’s famous in the online community for being the Best Technical Wrestler, Most Outstanding Wrestler, and having a Match of the Year. The first two awards he won multiple times over many years and eventually became the Most Outstanding Wrestler of the Decade for 2000-2009. It also helps matters that Daniel Bryan is an environmentally conscious animal lover who rubs shoulders with poor people. The fact that a mere hungry man like Mr. Bryan can accomplish so much through hard work and passion is a story that epics are made of. We love the underdog story and always will.

"Death Clutch" by Brock Lesnar

Here’ s a question for all of you wrestling and MMA fans out there. Have you ever wondered why Brock Lesnar doesn’t have a Twitter account or a Face Book page? It’s because like Bentley Little and Ted Kaczynski, he makes himself a little bit difficult to find. Don’t worry, it’s not because he’s making bombs. He’s a 300 lb. freak who can cause explosions with his fists alone, so he wouldn’t need bombs. Lesnar bills himself as a private person who enjoys a boring life in the woods. He hates the media, he hates cameras flashing on him and his family, basically the man just wants to be left alone. On the back of “Death Clutch”, he specifically states that his memoir is the only real access you’ll ever have to his personal life and that you shouldn’t expect another invite. You’d think being a hellishly strong athlete would be the life people could only dream about. You’d think being a former WWE and UFC champion would be the golden ticket to paradise. Lesnar’s life is anything but paradise. The road to getting the NCAA Division 1 wrestling championship was lined with massive bumps and potholes in the form of horrible losses, expensive classes, and disappointing outcomes. Being a WWE superstar was no better since it requires constantly traveling and being far away from your family a lot. Transitioning to the UFC wasn’t a piece of cake either since that was when Lesnar battled an intestinal disease that not only kept him out of action for so long, but also threatened his life. But despite all of these deadly obstacles, Lesnar came out a survivor. As I’ve mentioned earlier, his many accolades prove it. An NCAA Division 1 wrestling champion. A multiple time WWE champion. A King of the Ring and Royal Rumble winner. A UFC heavyweight champion and submission of the night winner. Considering Brock Lesnar started out as a mere farm boy with shallow pockets, that’s not a bad way to earn six to seven figures a year. You show me someone who can duplicate these accolades and I’ll show you the next Brock Lesnar success story.

　

***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: Who did Paul Heyman vote for in the 2008 presidential election?
A: Barack Lesnar.