Stephanie McMahon Really Cares About Bad Press

 

Donate Your Blood Money

***DONATE YOUR BLOOD MONEY***

Have you ever done something for money you’re not necessarily proud of? Does it feel wrong to have that resulting wad of cash because of it? Maybe your paycheck comes from a far-right conspiracy theorist, overseas dictator, drug lord, or otherwise objectionable human being. Of course, if you need that paycheck to survive, then there’re no two ways about it. But…if you’re able to afford it and you’re not comfortable with your blood money…donate it to a worthy cause. If money is the root of all evil, then turn it over to the root of all that’s good in the world and watch the balance of power shift.

Suppose you’re a WWE wrestler and you’re being assigned to perform for the Saudi Arabian government. You can’t stand the oppressive way they treat women and LGBT people. You can’t stand the fact that there’s no freedom of speech. There’s no freedom of anything in that country, but you must perform there at the risk of being fired by the WWE. It’s money from the Saudi Arabian government, so it’s going to be a big fat payday…for a charity of your choice! It could go to RAINN (Rape and Incest National Network). It could go to HIV/AIDS research. It could be used to prevent LGBT suicide. Hey, it’s your hard-earned money. If you want to donate it to a cause that’ll make the Saudi government’s heads explode, that’s your call. WWE can’t tell you not to do that.

Suppose you’re a waitress at a restaurant Rush Limbaugh likes to frequent. You love the fact that he’s a high tipper, but can’t stand the shit he says on live radio whether it’s against women, people of color, the LGBT community, or god knows what else. What do you do with that big ass tip if you don’t feel comfortable with it in your bank account? What any normal person would, of course: donate it to a women’s shelter or a women’s health clinic! This was actually a true story that the Young Turks reported. I can’t imagine Rush was very happy with it and quite frankly I don’t give a shit.

I don’t want you all to think I’m just standing on my soapbox and spouting off my beliefs through a bullhorn, as much as I love to do that. Donating blood money can actually be something a protagonist does in a piece of creative writing. Suppose your main character is a space mercenary who gets a fat briefcase full of money from a disgusting Jabba the Hutt-esque crime lord. Said space mercenary could donate it to impoverished children in the galaxy. Suppose your main character is a streetwalker who takes a hefty paycheck from a client she fucking hates. She can donate it to a women’s shelter.

Part of that ongoing story arc is what the boss man does after the protagonist donates his money to a rival cause. Does he send goons after the protagonist? Does he sue the protagonist? Does he go after the charity with explosive devices? Boss men hate that sort of thing, so it’s going to make your story a hell of a lot spicier than before. Just think of how wicked it would be if Boba Fett donated his bounty hunting money to helping women escape from Jabba the Hutt. It’ll never happen, but just think of the world of possibilities!

To be honest, I didn’t really think this blog entry all the way through. It happens sometimes. I’ll have this big idea that only expands to…one full page of text. That’s okay. I said everything I needed to say. Remember: only donate your blood money if you’re in a stable enough position to do so. In this fucked up economy, pinching your pennies is paramount to survival. I get that. But if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable with such unclean money, the ASPCA is more than willing to use it to protect precious fur babies. I can only imagine that’s what happened to Michael Vick’s assets once they were seized and rightfully so. Dog murdering bastard! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER AND EMILIO & MARIGOLD***

Yard sales, house chores, concerts, illness, and general sleepiness have slowed down the process of putting together manuscripts for Beautiful Monster and Emilio & Marigold. But as Valarie Savage Kinney once said in a You Tube video, slow progress is better than no progress at all. E&M’s manuscript is complete and the first three chapters of Beautiful Monster are put together, which leaves twenty-five more to comb through for glaring flaws. Once the manuscripts are complete and I’m sure there are zero typos, I plan on sending them back to Hollow Hills for another few rounds of editing. My other beta readers have been wonderful, but Hollow Hills is the least expensive out of all of them. Plus, with two manuscripts instead of just one, being frugal is important. Sleepiness can kick my ass all it wants, but I’ll keep getting back up even if it fucking kills me!

***BEACH BALL Z***

I’m sure you all have noticed that in between edit jobs for E&M and BM, I’m writing more short stories for the Poison Tongue Tales and American Darkness trilogies. The next short story on deck will be a Dragon Ball Z parody called “Beach Ball Z”. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Zoku, Martial Artist
2. Jeeta, Martial Artist
3. Nameless Audience Members

SYNOPSIS: In the finals of the Dragon Fist Tournament, Zoku and Jeeta square off at the world famous Preparation H Pavilion. Despite the warriors’ efforts to put on an intense, violent fight for the crowd, the audience is preoccupied with bouncing a beach ball around and getting a Twitter trend going on called #BeachBallZ. While Zoku has a lax attitude towards the distracted fans, Jeeta feels overwhelmingly disrespected and pops the beach ball mid-match, much to the crowd’s booing dismay.

FUN FACT: This story was inspired by true events that took place during a WWE Tag Team Championship match at Summer Slam between The Hardy Boys and Cesaro & Sheamus. Some idiots in the crowd were playing with a beach ball during what was an intense and brutal match, so Cesaro ran out in the crowd and popped the motherfucker. Good on him!

***WRESTLING PROMO OF THE DAY***

(RE: Jake “The Snake” Roberts)

“The first thing I want to be done around here is to get that piece of crap out of my ring! Don’t just get him out of my ring; get him out of the WWF! ‘Cause I’ve proved, son, without a shadow of a doubt that you ain’t got what it takes anymore! You sit there, you thump your bible, and you say your prayers and it didn’t get you anywhere! Talk about your psalms, talk about John 3:16! Austin 3:16 says I just whipped your ass! All you got to do is go buy a cheap bottle of Thunderbird to get back some of that courage you had in your prime!”

-Stone Cold Steve Austin after winning the 1996 King of the Ring tournament-

Toll Free Call

VERSE 1

It’s a toll free call in a free country

Please give us all of your hush money

Don’t lawyer up or try anything funny

Or we’ll be Elmer Fudd to your Bugs Bunny

VERSE 2

It’s a toll free call from Synchrony Bank

“Of course!” said a Young Turk named Cenk

Preying on the poor like it’s some kind of war

It’s really getting old, let’s go ahead and snore

VERSE 3

It’s a toll free call from Washington State

The kind that will stimulate your rage and hate

Don’t you wish you could reach through the phone

And snap the robo caller’s pencil neck bone?

VERSE 4

It’s a toll free call from the Russian president

Or a North Korean dictator that hell has sent

Or a Saudi Arabian prince who wants to convince

You to vote against your wishes in words not minced

VERSE 5

Rip the goddamn cable right out of the wall

And never ever get another toll free call

Tell your phone company they can suck a big one

If they want to go to war, then have some bloody fun

Nation of Genocide

VERSE 1

Summer sun, waterless desert

Dead bodies resting forever

A nation built on oppression

Let’s hear your confession

Not a bunch of what-abouts

You’re worthy of the shouts

Graveyard on your conscience

Relax in your highest office

CHORUS

Nation of genocide!

I’ll never choose your side!

Nation of racial pride!

My free speech will not hide!

VERSE 2

Business deals, cheap entertainment

Marginalization and detainment

Dungeon torture, decapitation

Welcome to the murder nation

CHORUS

Nation of genocide!

I’ll never choose your side!

Nation of racial pride!

My free speech will not hide!

BRIDGE

You can call it social progress

I call it blood and gore offence

The only reason you hold office

Is filthy money in your pockets

VERSE 3

Not a nickel or the thinnest dime

You won’t get a penny of mine

Not a quarter with a buffalo’s ass

Your economy must collapse

EXTENDED CHORUS

Nation of genocide!

I’ll never choose your side!

Nation of racial pride!

My free speech will not hide!

Nation of ignorance!

Defend your values with vigilance!

Nation of Armageddon!

A fake smile is your secret weapon!

Building My Life Around Mental Health

***BEFORE I BEGIN***

I know in the last blog entry I told you all that this current one was going to be about the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awards for 2018, particularly their Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic category. That was a lie. Truth is, I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m on an island with that one, so I’m not going to write it. Spoiler alert: the big winner of that award was WWE’s business relationship with Saudi Arabia. If you followed the news around the time Jamal Khashoggi was murdered, you’ll know why this promotional tactic was pretty fucking bad. Plus, there’s that whole thing about human rights abuses and suppressing women’s freedom.

***BUILDING MY LIFE AROUND MENTAL HEALTH***

If I wanted to, I could elevate my career to newfound levels of fame. I can take certain Skillshare classes on marketing, I can hook up with the right people, I can make an Author Tube platform, I can do all of these things that any sane independent author would do. But the truth is, if I do all of those things and achieve my highest level of fame and fortune, it might come at a steep price. For years now, I’ve built my entire life around two things: staying mentally healthy and knowing when I’m too tired to carry on. Stressing myself out will derail both of those plans.

Taking good care of my mind is the biggest reason why I don’t do a lot of things normal adults should be doing. I don’t apply for fast-paced jobs, I don’t drive a car, I don’t put myself out there socially, because if I do any of these things, my mind is toast. I’ve probably talked about this subject before, so excuse me if any of this sounds familiar to you. Stress plays a huge role in how a mentally ill mind can function. Too much of it can lead to long-lasting damage. Playing it safe sounds like a cowardly strategy, but I’ve been in those stressful situations before and I don’t need another schizophrenic episode. In a way I’ve learned to fear them. I had a lot of schizophrenic episodes during my WWU days. It might have had more to do with my caffeine intake and isolation than actual schoolwork, but I’m still weary about going back to college for any reason.

I know full well that taking risks is the key to success. But what does success look like and what is it worth when the cost is paid? Does it mean being famous? If that’s the case, then it’ll mean I’ll be looked at under a microscope by the entire world. Every review and every criticism will be felt on a magnified level. Escaping fame and getting out from under the microscope is damned near impossible. One bad criticism could result in a firestorm of public shaming. If that’s what fame and fortune will lead to, then I want no part of it. I’ve been publicly shamed before and with a schizophrenic mind it hurt like a motherfucker.

But what else does success look like? Having a shit ton of money? Okay, great, but what am I going to do with all of this money? People give billionaires a hard time for not being able to spend all of their money in their lifetime and rightfully so. I don’t need things like yachts and summer mansions. I don’t need an island in the Caribbean. To be honest, I don’t really know what I’d like to spend copious amounts of money on. Travel? Great, but where to and for how long? Books and CD’s? Perfect, but I do that enough already. Donations? Again, I do that enough already. Concerts? Well, you know where this is heading.

So basically in order to be successful in my line of work, I have to sacrifice my mental health for rewards I have no idea what to do with. Maybe I can use all of my earned income to repair my mental health. I could go down to California and visit Cuddle Sanctuary for platonic spooning. I could go to Las Vegas and buy real sex. I could go on a “Secret Journey” like the Police song says and become a holy man. But wait a minute…I sacrifice my mental health just so I can have enough money to repair it. You talk about a catch-22. Holy shit!

I’m not at all saying that I’m against the idea of fame and fortune. But if I’m going to achieve it, I’m going to have to be careful and realistic about what I want and how I get it. I need to do a lot of soul-searching and a lot of online research. This isn’t something I’m going to take lightly and if I need encouragement from others, I’m going to take it. But until then, I’ll just keep chugging along and satisfying the demons in my head for yet another year. Maybe when I earn enough money, I can buy a cure for schizophrenia! Heh, we all know one doesn’t exist.

In the end, I’m not ashamed of building my life around mental illness. It gets boring sometimes, but it’s better to be bored than in constant psychological torment. At least with boredom I can relax and let my mind wander to lighthearted places instead of dark ones. Apparently, I’m not alone in thinking this. I’ve met people on the Face Book group Writing About Writing who also don’t see fame and fortune as their end game and they too struggle with mental illness. Don’t take this as a sign that I’m completely giving up. Take it as a sign that I’ll be more cautious in my climb to the top. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying…actually, this would be a good time to slow down and take a breather.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Upon a secret journey, I met a holy man. His blindness was his wisdom. I’m such a lonely man. And as the world was turning, it rolled itself in pain. This does not seem to touch you. He pointed to the rain. And on the days that followed, I listened to his words. I strained to understand him. I chased his thoughts like birds. You will see light in the darkness. You will make some sense of this. You will see joy in this sadness. You will find this love you missed. And when you’ve made your secret journey, you will be a holy man.”

-The Police singing “Secret Journey”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

On a high note, I only have one more chapter of Emilio and the Scratching Post to write and then it’s off to critiqueville. I might write it tomorrow. I might write it the day after. Or the day after. Or the day after. Either way, I’ll be thankful to see my story in yet another Hollow Hills publication. Wish me luck!