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| Three Words; SwitchBlade vs. Sean Edmunds | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 20 2011, 09:40 PM (72 Views) | |
| SwitchBlade | May 20 2011, 09:40 PM Post #1 |
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[I need to get a new bottle of shampoo.] [An odd way to start a promo, you say? Sure, I could see where you might find that weird. I mean what does a shampoo bottle have to do with professional wrestling? Nothing at all. Or…is there? Now bare with me people, as I am a tired old man who might be ranting about something really stupid. You know how on the back of shampoo bottles they list instructions on how to use it? I mean it’s not as simple as apply to head and wash. No no, they have to add those three magical words, the same three words that apply to EVERY shampoo bottle in the entire world. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.] [Lather. Rinse. Repeat.] [These are three simple words, three instructions on how to have shiny, clean smelling hair that a standard society accepts. But again, what does that have to do with professional wrestling? Well, if you think about it, one could apply these instructions to professional wrestling! It might be a bit of a stretch, but hear me out. Give an old man a break.] [Lather. That’s the process where we apply the shampoo to our hair. An obvious step, otherwise why buy shampoo to begin with? In wrestling, this shares a similarity with the process of wrestling. We get in the ring, and we fight and tussle in order to ensure that the second step takes place, and that the end result will be a win, or in shampoo terms a clean head of hair. We all start with dirty hair, a…bad reputation when we’re new to wrestling. Our goal is to clean it up, to improve, and at the end obtain something shiny.] [Rinse. That’s when you wash the shampoo out of your hair. That’s when the shampooing process ends, and that’s where the wrestling analogy ends its matches. Whether by pin, submission, or some other means, there’s always going to be an end result to each match. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Sometimes your hair gets super clean, and other times you miss a few spots that remain dirty. Try again next time. Which leads me to…] [Repeat. The whole process starts over again, and we go back to lathering. In wrestling, we move on. We have another match, and we try to get another win. Another shade cleaner. From the moment we start until the moment we retire, our lives are all about the process of repetition. We do the same things over and over again until the very end.] [And that is how a shampoo bottle is like professional wrestling. Neat, eh?] [This lather, rinse, repeat process could also apply to certain types of wrestlers. Take for example my opponent at the next Warped show, Sean Edmunds. Oh Sean, what a cliché and generic example of a wrestler you are. You show me nothing new. I’ve washed my hands of the kind of filth you bring, yet I keep getting them dirty. I keep rinsing and repeating, yet guys like you keep popping up. You want a better analogy? It’s like a game of wack-a-mole. I knock one down, and three more heads pop up. You’re just another mole to wack back down. Another tiresome opponent who I once again have to prove that their shit certainly does stink.] [When I fought guys like Ryder and Korrupt, they brought something new to the table. They…they were unique. They have this charisma, this quality about them that got me excited for our matches. Sure they’re assholes and douche bags, but they were a different type of asshole and douche bag. You…you’re just asshole number 385. Another clone. Another copy that I have to knock back down to reality. It’s fine, I guess. I shouldn’t really complain. I mean beating you would mean I could move on in the tournament and have a chance at becoming world champion again. That’s what I need right now. I need a second title reign, something to occupy my time and keep me busy. Something to…keep my mind off of troublesome thoughts.] [Sean, I don’t know much about you. Hardly anything. There once was a time when I would care to find out. I would look your name up, check your records, see if I could find a weakness. Yeah, those were better times. Now…it doesn’t matter. Now I’m just trying to think of the quickest way out of the parking lot once I win. Another day, another dollar, right Sean? Oh wait, no, you’re the “future” of Warped. No, you have your beady little eyes set on the gold. Good. That’s very good. At least you have a goal, a finish line to cross. I crossed that finish line a long time ago. And I went back to the start and re-crossed it time and time again. And after awhile, the finish line doesn’t seem like a big deal. After awhile it loses its meaning. After awhile nobody gives a shit.] [I wonder if you’ll be different, Sean. I wonder if you’ll be the one who finally proves me wrong. Maybe there’s more to you than bland talking and mildly exciting wins. Maybe you’ll be able to beat me and move on. Maybe you’ll be world champion by the end. That would be quite the Cinderella story. Boy starts from nothing and wins everything at the end. He lives happily ever after, right? But then…another page is added. And another. And another. And it just keeps adding up, the book never ends, the story doesn’t stop. There’s no “The End” no “Fin” no “That’s all, folks!” No, you have to keep defending that title, Sean. You have to face off against countless wrestlers until you eventually lose it. And that’s exactly what’ll happen to you. You’ll get tired. You’ll want to sleep, but you can’t sleep. Those bags under your eyes get heavier. You travel from city to city with this huge responsibility to always be at your peak physical and mental performance. And does anybody thank you afterwards? Do they say “Hey Sean Edmunds, thanks for a great match!” “Hey Sean, good job out there”?! No. No, they just move on. They go back to their homes. And you keep driving. And after awhile all the motel rooms start to look the same. They look dirty. The sheets are filled with God knows what, and all you want is a nice clean bed of your own. But like I said, you can’t sleep. You have to train. You have to go to meetings, you have to sign autographs, you have to be interviewed on radio shows, you have to leave everyone you love behind because wrestling is your first priority, otherwise WHY BE WORLD CHAMPION AT ALL!] [That’s what being a world champion is all about. Sacrifice. Sacrificing everything just to hold a gold belt. Just to say you’re the “best” in professional wrestling. And you want that, Sean? More power to you, buddy. Better men have tried and failed. As for me…I still need it. Isn’t that sick? After all I said, after all the negativity, I still want that world title. I’m mentally ill, Sean. I just HAVE to be. Why else would I act this way? It’s not normal. This is not a normal human behavior to have. I need help. I really do. Why do I want that belt? Why do I want to be champion. Good Lord, why am I trying to be Superman around here?! WHY?!] [My head kills. It’s a migraine, the kind that the standard pills won’t relieve. I’ve had it for the past week, ever since my match with Rottentreats. He had the right idea. The whacky clown was right all along. He retired and left the business. He knew that was the right thing to do. He’s financially secure, he’ll go on to live his life the way he wants to. He doesn’t have to lather, rinse, and repeat. I envy him. And I pity you, Sean. You don’t know any better. You’re young. You’re naive. But you’ll learn….you’ll learn.] [I should really go buy some shampoo.] Edited by SwitchBlade, May 21 2011, 12:58 AM.
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