Love, Madness & Lucha Libre.
Jan 14, 2016 16:02:26 GMT
ISM Office, Buck U Productions, and 1 more like this
Post by Deleted on Jan 14, 2016 16:02:26 GMT
If there’s one thing for sure about the cluster-fuck of a tag-match that awaits my degenerate ass:
Somebody’s got a real hard on for my green friend from Fzorpon x-79b.
All those phallic threats with hockey sticks aside; didn’t somebody once said that Love and Hate are only two sides of the same coin?
It’s not that hard of a concept to get a handle on, especially after going through your fair share of failed relationships and intimate disasters. It’s easy to get it all muddled-up once you’ve gone past that point of no return, when agony and ecstasy feel as if they were one and the same in that manic state…
But then again, what makes it a real mindfuck, is that if it all gets put into proper perspective: You’re basically confused over the dual aspects of the same. Fucking. Whatchamacallit.
Before I digress any further, what I’m basically trying to say is; it doesn’t take a shrink to figure out Miss Guacamole’s fixation with The Intergalactic Conqueror.
I mean, this is coming straight off that thing with Woody. I think “psycho-bitch” might’ve been a slight understatement on my part.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m really being paid enough to deal with the kind of head-cases that these fried-chicken motherfuckers keep throwing my goddamn way….
That autistic sociopath with a government job, Brute… I mean, that guy looks like he’s fucking got his shit together when you put him right next to that little lady.
You understand what I’m getting at?
Maybe it’s New York. There’s just something about the Empire State, the Big Apple, all those lights and all the fucking rep… It just forces you to put on the best fucking show, whether you like it or not.
The city is an irresistible force unto itself; bigger than the Pollo Cousins and the family business, bigger than any fried chicken chain, bigger than lucha libre, bigger than diplomatic immunity, bigger than alien invaders….
Management wanted us to tear the house down, in fact, they’re forced to tear that house down because the City fucking demands it.
Why else would you tacitly encourage psychopathic tendencies in a fragile young lady? Why else would you ignore professional boundaries and allow bad blood to simmer? Why else would they put four mentally imbalanced, borderline criminally insane scoundrels in the main event?
This is not a story of good versus evil.
This is a story of four, very bad people, having it out with each other; and if you’re really fucking lucky, this won’t be the last time you’ll see something like this on the main event.
And why do I willingly get myself caught in the crossfire? Why am I willingly participating in this fuckfest of a spectacle?
I believe that this goes beyond an unhealthy crush, bigger than an obsession.
It’s what crotchety old men with faded photo albums and “purists” have always feared.
No more fucking Heroes.
I wonder what Zargnax is making out of all this?
Somebody’s got a real hard on for my green friend from Fzorpon x-79b.
All those phallic threats with hockey sticks aside; didn’t somebody once said that Love and Hate are only two sides of the same coin?
It’s not that hard of a concept to get a handle on, especially after going through your fair share of failed relationships and intimate disasters. It’s easy to get it all muddled-up once you’ve gone past that point of no return, when agony and ecstasy feel as if they were one and the same in that manic state…
But then again, what makes it a real mindfuck, is that if it all gets put into proper perspective: You’re basically confused over the dual aspects of the same. Fucking. Whatchamacallit.
Before I digress any further, what I’m basically trying to say is; it doesn’t take a shrink to figure out Miss Guacamole’s fixation with The Intergalactic Conqueror.
I mean, this is coming straight off that thing with Woody. I think “psycho-bitch” might’ve been a slight understatement on my part.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m really being paid enough to deal with the kind of head-cases that these fried-chicken motherfuckers keep throwing my goddamn way….
That autistic sociopath with a government job, Brute… I mean, that guy looks like he’s fucking got his shit together when you put him right next to that little lady.
You understand what I’m getting at?
Maybe it’s New York. There’s just something about the Empire State, the Big Apple, all those lights and all the fucking rep… It just forces you to put on the best fucking show, whether you like it or not.
The city is an irresistible force unto itself; bigger than the Pollo Cousins and the family business, bigger than any fried chicken chain, bigger than lucha libre, bigger than diplomatic immunity, bigger than alien invaders….
Management wanted us to tear the house down, in fact, they’re forced to tear that house down because the City fucking demands it.
Why else would you tacitly encourage psychopathic tendencies in a fragile young lady? Why else would you ignore professional boundaries and allow bad blood to simmer? Why else would they put four mentally imbalanced, borderline criminally insane scoundrels in the main event?
This is not a story of good versus evil.
This is a story of four, very bad people, having it out with each other; and if you’re really fucking lucky, this won’t be the last time you’ll see something like this on the main event.
And why do I willingly get myself caught in the crossfire? Why am I willingly participating in this fuckfest of a spectacle?
I believe that this goes beyond an unhealthy crush, bigger than an obsession.
It’s what crotchety old men with faded photo albums and “purists” have always feared.
No more fucking Heroes.
I wonder what Zargnax is making out of all this?