Manifesto

How does one change the world?

It’s a question we grapple with on a daily basis, isn’t it? Injustice surrounds us daily. The world is full of exploitation and pain and misery and most of the time it seems like there’s nothing any of us can do about it. The world is a horrible place, and it’s easy to believe that we’re powerless to change anything about it. It’s easier to believe that than to believe that we can, in any case, since it requires effort for change to happen. It requires taking a chance, being the person to step out of the line and differentiate themselves, and the risk is there that rather than making a difference we’ll just end up being the alienated and estranged and, in the end, nothing will come of it. We’ll be an object of ridicule and the world will still be the same, shitty place it’s been the whole time. So instead we play it safe. We ride along without complaint. We don’t rock the boat. We listen to what the 24 hour news cycles tell us to think rather than thinking on our own. We blame the people in charge of our government for our economic and social woes while the Senators and Congressman who we’re blaming still maintain a 90% retention rate every election because, of course, while everybody else in Congress is a crook, your guy is ok. We sit quietly while racism and prejudice spread the fruits of hate throughout the world. We condemn Arab terrorists while quietly condoning the same actions when they’re carried out by Israelis. We hustle away quickly when we hear a cry for help. We keep our heads down. We accept the shit we’re handed on a day to day basis, and we do it with a smile because “that’s just the way things work.

Well fuck that.

I’m not saying that I’m going to make a difference, or that anything I’m doing is going to change anything. I’m saying that I’m tired of standing in line. Following the rules and being a good employee has only resulted in my still having no match for Paranoia, being paired up with people I can’t stand and made to pretend that somehow it was all my idea, and ending up an object of ridicule for the completely worthless yuppie shits that have wormed their way to the top of this company despite being A) unable to complete a thought using the basic conventions of the English language and B) obviously a parasite that is simply using this company towards his own ends with no regard for anyone that is currently working here. I’m being completely misused, and I’m just done with it. So now it’s time for things to change.

You, Too Magnificent, and you’re partner were the beginning of that change. The first thing people need to understand about this brand new day is that I’m done with worthless partners. My entire goddamn career I’ve been paired up with disappointments like you and I’m through with being drug down by you. I don’t care about your problems. I don’t care what other wrestlers on the roster make you crazy. I want nothing to do with your piece-of-shit career unless you’re somehow able to do something to help progress mine. When I said I wasn’t participating in the faction cage match last week, I was serious. I want nothing to do with these clusterfuck matches going forward, and the easiest way to be rid of them is simply to be rid of partners. Putting you two Motherfuckers down last week was the exclamation point at the end of that announcement. In the future, IWC bookers, if you put me into this situation again, you should expect similar results. The first people I’ll look to take out are the partners you’ve stuck me with, and then I may simply walk away from the ring and take a count-out or something. Or not, it depends on my mood I suppose.

That’s the second thing. It’s time for this company to start to bend to my whims from time to time. I’ve nearly been back in the company for a year now and I have yet to receive even a single chance to win the World Championship. Clearly you’re just dicking me around, so now it’s time for me to do the same to you. My primary motivation from week to week, from here on out, is to do exactly what I want when I want, and nothing and nobody will stop me. If I think it’s funny to bash in the cranium of Porno Lad while he’s walking out to main event a show, I’ll do it. If I want to chase down Katelyn Buehler or that annoying backstage interview bitch, throw them over my shoulder, and drive out of the arena with them for a night of my own amusement, I’ll do it. And you know what? You won’t do a damned thing about it. Despite Orlando’s misunderstanding of the way things work around here, the reality of the IWC is that the more anarchy I cause around this place, the better ratings will be. Steve Austin didn’t revolutionize the then WWF because of his amazing in-ring technical abilities, he did it by wrecking everything going on in the backstage area and being a general pain-in-the-ass to anyone who got in his way, mainly Vince McMahon. This is what I’m here for now, to take your pretty little plans and your great big dreams, IWC, and I will turn it on itself.

I will become the world’s ultimate spoiler.

Whatever you think you know, however you believe this place works, I’m going to wreck it. No one is safe from me. The minute you think that I’m your friend and ally, I’m going to chokeslam you through the stage or set your dressing room on fire. I’ve had what I wanted taken away from me enough times now that it only seems right I do the same to you. If bullshit like Josh Hudson sneaking into our arena and handcuffing me to a guardrail in the middle of a match and no one on the competition committee even batted an eye, then nothing I do should meet with any sort of consequence from the main office either.

And if any of the IWC “talent” wants to get some payback, they know where to find me.

So this is where you come in, Too Mag, because ultimately people will be stupid enough to take me up on that offer. You’re living proof, after all, since as we established you officially don’t even notice when you’re outmatched and have no chance of victory, as evidenced by your insistence on facing me after I victimized you and Cagero last week. You, then, have therefore volunteered to become the first warning to the rest of the roster what’s really going to happen to people who are foolish enough to come after me. You’re going to be the head shoved onto a post outside the gates of Castle AWOL as a warning to the other peasants. I’m not going to tell you that you’ve never faced anyone as violent as me, or tough as me, or as devious as me, but what I will tell you is that you’ve never seen anyone that can do what I do because I just…don’t…care what happens to you. You could end the match in a pool of blood, neck broken, gasping your last breaths as the EMTs come down from the back in a desperate and ultimately futile attempt to save the sad fucking shell of what passes as your “life,” and I would literally feel nothing. Not happiness. Not rage. Nothing at all, and that’s the beauty of it. I’m not going to go stamping through a store screaming at the top of my lungs if you beat me, and I’m not going to exult if I defeat you. I’ll walk out of the ring to my dressing room and plan the next move I have in store for later on in the show, and I won’t give the match another thought.

You’re a violent person. You’re tough. We’ve established this, Too Mag, and it isn’t news. We’ve faced each other before and pushed each other’s limits. I’m confident this time around, however, not because I’ve improved or that now I’m especially motivated to beat you, but simply because now my limits have changed. I’ve learned that pulling punches or restraining myself just delays the amount of time I have to endure your struggling before I put you down. I’ve put you through a ring, then I put you through the roof of the Hell in a Cell and the ring, and neither of those things have managed to let me rid myself of you. Some men would be discouraged by this fact, but I am no longer one of those men.

For myself, it just means I need to find something even taller to throw you off of.