Post by Kurt Burton: Script Doctor! on Nov 30, 2007 20:27:01 GMT -5
All right, I’ve been working pretty hard to mend my ways. I don’t drink anymore, I’m working very hard on getting better. I also haven’t talked crap about anyone since I’ve gotten out of rehab, which is a good thing, because my mouth used to run like a duck with diarrhea. But sometimes, enough is enough, and that’s why I am addressing this man in this blog. I can’t take his crap anymore.
Sorry, my loyal fan base of three, but today in my blog you will get no wonderful story about two bit diners in towns you never heard of, or any diatribes about the fascism running rampant throughout our country. Today, you get a letter, a letter written to one man, who probably won’t even see this, but as I said before, I’ve got to get this off my chest. So, to this man, you know who you are, but to everyone else, you know that I’m not one to name names, so we’re going to call him Homo… partly because it sounds like his name, but also because he sucks more dick than a whore on two for Tuesdays.
So, you think you’re hot, don’t you. You think you’re the biggest thing in wrestling don’t you. Or do you not care. That’s right, you’re psychotic, so you don’t give one flying crap about what other people say about you. But is that really the case. I don’t think so, not with the way you act. You’re not psychotic Homo, you are merely Narcissistic. The psychotic thing, that’s just an act, I can see through it. You act crazy, but in reality, you use that to garner attention for yourself. You think that everything is about you, but I hate to break it to you, it’s not.
What might I be basing this conclusion on, you might wonder. Well I’ll tell you. You use your daughter… your DAUGHTER, in an elaborate scheme to cause Wayne and Vanessa to drop their guard against you. You used that little girl, who looks to you for love, and care, and affection, and you used her to further your career. You sick
. You know, I may not have shown myself as a paragon of virtue over my tenure within the WFWF, but I would never use a CHILD to get myself ahead. That is low, lower than anything I’ve ever done. But it’s okay, isn’t it, because she doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter to you anymore than my roommate’s dog matters to me. And that is sad.
But let’s not stop there, let’s talk about how even though you had the most prestigious prize in our business, you still decided to mix it up in title scenes that were far below you. Know, someone could say the same about me. Someone could say that my talent exceeds the tag title that I just won for the third time, but there’s a difference, I didn’t have a world heavyweight Championship hanging strapped to my waist. I had nothing, and I earned shots that I didn’t even ask for, they were given to me by the owner. But you Homo, you decided when you won the choice of the final entrant into the Hardcore Battle Royal… you chose yourself. Why? Because then you’d have two matches that night, and be crammed even further down our throats. Then we won’t even get started with the "I’m taking over the Tag Title" bull crap.
But the most recent, and the one that was the icing on this cake, the straw that broke this camel’s back, was what you did to my friend. He beat you. Fair, square, and in your own game. In your most trusted environment. Yeah, I bet you made you feel real warm and fuzzy inside, but instead of manning up, realizing that you are at the top, you’ll get another shot, you’ll live to fight another day, you couldn’t. You had to rain on his parade. In a match taking you to your limits Obo, you couldn’t handle that people were going to talk about him, not you. Yeah I’m going to drop that name, because I’m tired, and I don’t give a at this point.
But why now? I mean, you were one of the biggest jackasses I ever met when I left, but I came back, and you were intolerable. You know its bad when EBR, practically aing mute, had something to say about you. And it wasn’t flattering was it? But you loved it because somewhere during the course of your little pea brain, you missed the part where you differentiate between positive and negative attention. Was it because mommy didn’t pay attention, or was it because your Uncle Ted touched you in your naughty zone? Nobody gives a why you act like such a child. But it has gotten old, and I’m not the only one in the back who feels that way. SO Drop the act, and grow up. Or leave. You seem to be talking about that a lot lately.
"I hate this business, I want to leave, I don’t know, it’s all bullcrap." Well you know, this business doesn’t care much for you anymore. You’ve risen, as high as you can go, and you turn and spit in this company’s face. Then go. I’m sure Wayne would have no problem taking a torch to your contract if it would let him know that Vanessa and Scarlet can be safe when they come to the building. Because who knows, your next cry for attention may involve them.
I think this all started around the time I came back. I mean, I know you used your daughter like a dog before I came back, I heard about that from Wayne and Michael. But everything else, it all started when I came back. And Shadow came back. And Kyzer came back. Hmm…maybe your just a little pissed that spotlight isn’t shining down on you anymore. Maybe your pissed because other people were getting the attention that you so desperately craved. I said it before, I’ll say it again, the world does not revolve around you. If anyone has that claim, its Wayne, Thunder and myself. We hold two championships and literally run the place, but you don’t see us acting like some spoiled priss who got a Corvette instead of a Ferrari. The spotlight isn’t on you, because you haven’t done anything groundbreaking.
But you have your shot, this week. See, from what I see, you and I have faced each other twice. I might be wrong, I am a drunk, and so my brains are kind of like your girlfriend, there’s a lot of good stuff missing. But if I’m right, we are even. I beat you once in a tag team match, and you beat me once in a garbage match. But now, you are facing me in a No Rules match. I don’t even know what a No Rules match is. I guess you can’t win by pinfall, because that’s a rule. Or submission, because that’s a rule too. So I guess that the only thing that we’ll do is just beat theing tar out of each other until one of us can’t get up. So it’s a battle, between your sadism and my masochism. Let’s see which one is stronger. But I’ll tell you, I am a drunk, which means that literally no matter how many times I fall down, I will get back up, so good luck. You take me down, you keep me down, that is an accomplishment. And the spotlight will be yours again.
Now I have spent the past two pages bitching about you, but I do also want to thank you. You see, I have my own little issues, that affected my life, inside and outside of that ring. But I went out, I got help, and I am proud of how far I’ve come in just a few months. But you see, if I didn’t get that help, I would have continued destroying friendships, destroying people, and destroying my life. And I want to thank you. Not because you pulled your head out of your ass and tried to help me, like even Yukio Blaze did. No I want to thank you because you are the bright shining neon example of what I would have become. Garbage doesn’t just describe your wrestling style Obo. It describes your value as a person.
SO in closing, I just have to say that if you finally acted on that threat lurking deep in the back of your mind, and you took your ball, and went home, I wouldn’t care. Not because I am a heartless bunghole like you, but because as a man, you have to be aware of your actions, and their effect on others. You have to take responsibility for your actions. And so I have no pity for you, no hatred, no like. You have officially crossed the threshold into my apathy. My anger has reached a point with you, that I just don’t care about you anymore. From this point on, you will never enter my mind again. So after our match on Loaded, you can grow up, get some lithium, or go kill yourself. I really don’t care which of the options you will choose.
I began to review the masterpiece of trash talk I had just laid out, when I could here the yipping at the door. He was home. Damn it. And just as I suspected, the door flung open after just a moment, and in walked Jimi, burn boy extraordinare. That damn yipping beagle clinging to his ankles, until the dumb beast finally thought, "Duh I can go in the door." Then it rushed through leaving a wake of terror in its path as it disappeared to god knows where.
Jimi: Kurt…
Kurt: What the do you want Stoner Boy? Did your dog crap on my bed again?
Jimi: No.
He stood transfixed, it looked like he honestly felt terrible about what had happened just a few days prior. Before I got another stutter filled apology, I had to act.
Kurt: Well, what do you want?
Jimi: Do you like, wanna play Mario Carts?
Kurt: Why the- Yeah… sure.
Jimi: Sweet! I get to be Donkey Kong!
He hurriedly switched on the N64, and to my shock the thing still worked. I was kind of hoping it wouldn’t. You know, valid excuse and all. But no, the son of a bitch turned on. And so now I was stuck. I mean, I can’t be a dick. I have got to do this, or I prove that everything I just wrote was a lie. I am a intellectually- disabled person. I selected my racer, and was ready for action.
Jimi: You’re playing as Wario?
Kurt: Yeah, is there a problem?
Jimi: You could’ve picked Mario or Yoshi or Luigi.
Kurt: What kind of a loser wants to play as a boy dinosaur that lays eggs or a half rate knock off of a sibling?
Jimi: Well what the hell is Wario then?
Kurt: An improvement upon the original.
Jimi: What ever.
The race began, and Jimi was left trailing in my dust. Little did he know I was the master of the super accelerator. Jimi looked confused.
Jimi: How did you do that?
Kurt: I am the master of all.
Jimi pondered my statement. Well, it’s a good distraction as I extend my lead. Jimi did well coming back, and a triple mushroom on the third turn let him get to right within a hair of me.
I could swear on my life he made a damn monkey noise. But I let it slide of my back. I mean sure its intellectually- disabled, but whatever, nothing to get bent out of shape over.
His kart collided into mine, and I lost coins.
Kurt: That was a dick move man.
Jimi: SO was cheating at takeoff.
Kurt: It is not cheating if its programmed into the game man.
Jimi: Talk to the hand, I’m in the lead.
Did he honestly just say talk to the hand. What the? Is he a prepubescent girl? Don’t get upset man, you know the shortcut. There it is. I take the zoom pad, but veer off to the left, sending me over the hill , and about ten seconds ahead of Jimi, , but to my shock and dismay, he got the Thunderbolt.
Kurt: Oh no.
Jimi Oh yes.
He hits it, and the screen flashes with light, as I shrink to only a few inches. But that’s not the bad part. The bad part is I’m right in front of a lake. No control, sploosh.
Kurt: That was a super dick move.
Jimi: Like the shortcut wasn’t.
Kurt: You really suck.
There is the sound again. Thating monkey noise.
Kurt: ARE you making MONKEY noises?
Jimi: Yeah.
Kurt: Why the hell are you making monkey noises?
Jimi: Cuz it’s fun. I am getting into character dude.
Kurt: Well stop, its annoying and juvenile.
Jimi: And getting pissed off about it isn’t?
He was right.
Jimi: You need to chill man. You know, you used to be a fun guy to be around.
Kurt: Yeah I was drunk.
He shook his head, the dismay apparent on his face.
Jimi: No, you didn’t let stuff get to you. But now, you’re like all serious all the time. You know, you should be laughing your ass off right now. We are playing the most fun game in the history of video games, but you just want to bitch about how I’m playing. Plus, you like won you’re match, didn’t you?
Kurt: You know I did.
Jimi: You really gave it to CBT and EBR… right?
Kurt: Hell yeah we did.
Jimi: Then smile champ.
He had a point. I couldn’t stop moping ever since that night with Cynthia. That horror had just stuck with me.
Jimi: Smile?
Oh God, he had that intellectually- disabled Jack Nicholson smile.
Kurt: You know get off my back man, I’ll smile when I feel like it.
Jimi looked hurt. But what he failed to realize was that I had a red koopa shell in my reserve, and it was locked on, I fired it. Jimi spun out of control and into the lake.
Kurt: Like now.
I plastered the smile on thick. My coup de gras was coming up though.
Kurt: Wahaha… Waaario.
Jimi: You’re a dick.
I laughed hysterically, as Jimi struggled to get back into the race. We laughed, both of us, until the unspeakable happened. The game froze up. Pixilated death I always called. The screen was a garbled mess of colored blocks.
Jimi: Oh man.
I shared his sentiment. I was actually having fun.
Jimi: Well, I got to go anyways. Time for the gym.
Kurt: What is with you and the gym? You are always there.
Jimi: I like it, got to do something to burn off the munchies.
He shot me a smile and a wink as he headed off through the door again. I peeled myself off the couch, and walked back over to the computer. My blog was still up. Should I post it? Nope. I exited out, and I didn’t save it. A guy like Obo, I guess is much like this game. He may be annoying and bothersome, but, nothing to get myself worked up over. And definitely not worth stooping to his level.
Sorry, my loyal fan base of three, but today in my blog you will get no wonderful story about two bit diners in towns you never heard of, or any diatribes about the fascism running rampant throughout our country. Today, you get a letter, a letter written to one man, who probably won’t even see this, but as I said before, I’ve got to get this off my chest. So, to this man, you know who you are, but to everyone else, you know that I’m not one to name names, so we’re going to call him Homo… partly because it sounds like his name, but also because he sucks more dick than a whore on two for Tuesdays.
So, you think you’re hot, don’t you. You think you’re the biggest thing in wrestling don’t you. Or do you not care. That’s right, you’re psychotic, so you don’t give one flying crap about what other people say about you. But is that really the case. I don’t think so, not with the way you act. You’re not psychotic Homo, you are merely Narcissistic. The psychotic thing, that’s just an act, I can see through it. You act crazy, but in reality, you use that to garner attention for yourself. You think that everything is about you, but I hate to break it to you, it’s not.
What might I be basing this conclusion on, you might wonder. Well I’ll tell you. You use your daughter… your DAUGHTER, in an elaborate scheme to cause Wayne and Vanessa to drop their guard against you. You used that little girl, who looks to you for love, and care, and affection, and you used her to further your career. You sick
. You know, I may not have shown myself as a paragon of virtue over my tenure within the WFWF, but I would never use a CHILD to get myself ahead. That is low, lower than anything I’ve ever done. But it’s okay, isn’t it, because she doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter to you anymore than my roommate’s dog matters to me. And that is sad.But let’s not stop there, let’s talk about how even though you had the most prestigious prize in our business, you still decided to mix it up in title scenes that were far below you. Know, someone could say the same about me. Someone could say that my talent exceeds the tag title that I just won for the third time, but there’s a difference, I didn’t have a world heavyweight Championship hanging strapped to my waist. I had nothing, and I earned shots that I didn’t even ask for, they were given to me by the owner. But you Homo, you decided when you won the choice of the final entrant into the Hardcore Battle Royal… you chose yourself. Why? Because then you’d have two matches that night, and be crammed even further down our throats. Then we won’t even get started with the "I’m taking over the Tag Title" bull crap.
But the most recent, and the one that was the icing on this cake, the straw that broke this camel’s back, was what you did to my friend. He beat you. Fair, square, and in your own game. In your most trusted environment. Yeah, I bet you made you feel real warm and fuzzy inside, but instead of manning up, realizing that you are at the top, you’ll get another shot, you’ll live to fight another day, you couldn’t. You had to rain on his parade. In a match taking you to your limits Obo, you couldn’t handle that people were going to talk about him, not you. Yeah I’m going to drop that name, because I’m tired, and I don’t give a
at this point.But why now? I mean, you were one of the biggest jackasses I ever met when I left, but I came back, and you were intolerable. You know its bad when EBR, practically a
ing mute, had something to say about you. And it wasn’t flattering was it? But you loved it because somewhere during the course of your little pea brain, you missed the part where you differentiate between positive and negative attention. Was it because mommy didn’t pay attention, or was it because your Uncle Ted touched you in your naughty zone? Nobody gives a why you act like such a child. But it has gotten old, and I’m not the only one in the back who feels that way. SO Drop the act, and grow up. Or leave. You seem to be talking about that a lot lately."I hate this business, I want to leave, I don’t know, it’s all bullcrap." Well you know, this business doesn’t care much for you anymore. You’ve risen, as high as you can go, and you turn and spit in this company’s face. Then go. I’m sure Wayne would have no problem taking a torch to your contract if it would let him know that Vanessa and Scarlet can be safe when they come to the building. Because who knows, your next cry for attention may involve them.
I think this all started around the time I came back. I mean, I know you used your daughter like a dog before I came back, I heard about that from Wayne and Michael. But everything else, it all started when I came back. And Shadow came back. And Kyzer came back. Hmm…maybe your just a little pissed that spotlight isn’t shining down on you anymore. Maybe your pissed because other people were getting the attention that you so desperately craved. I said it before, I’ll say it again, the world does not revolve around you. If anyone has that claim, its Wayne, Thunder and myself. We hold two championships and literally run the place, but you don’t see us acting like some spoiled priss who got a Corvette instead of a Ferrari. The spotlight isn’t on you, because you haven’t done anything groundbreaking.
But you have your shot, this week. See, from what I see, you and I have faced each other twice. I might be wrong, I am a drunk, and so my brains are kind of like your girlfriend, there’s a lot of good stuff missing. But if I’m right, we are even. I beat you once in a tag team match, and you beat me once in a garbage match. But now, you are facing me in a No Rules match. I don’t even know what a No Rules match is. I guess you can’t win by pinfall, because that’s a rule. Or submission, because that’s a rule too. So I guess that the only thing that we’ll do is just beat the
ing tar out of each other until one of us can’t get up. So it’s a battle, between your sadism and my masochism. Let’s see which one is stronger. But I’ll tell you, I am a drunk, which means that literally no matter how many times I fall down, I will get back up, so good luck. You take me down, you keep me down, that is an accomplishment. And the spotlight will be yours again.Now I have spent the past two pages bitching about you, but I do also want to thank you. You see, I have my own little issues, that affected my life, inside and outside of that ring. But I went out, I got help, and I am proud of how far I’ve come in just a few months. But you see, if I didn’t get that help, I would have continued destroying friendships, destroying people, and destroying my life. And I want to thank you. Not because you pulled your head out of your ass and tried to help me, like even Yukio Blaze did. No I want to thank you because you are the bright shining neon example of what I would have become. Garbage doesn’t just describe your wrestling style Obo. It describes your value as a person.
SO in closing, I just have to say that if you finally acted on that threat lurking deep in the back of your mind, and you took your ball, and went home, I wouldn’t care. Not because I am a heartless bunghole like you, but because as a man, you have to be aware of your actions, and their effect on others. You have to take responsibility for your actions. And so I have no pity for you, no hatred, no like. You have officially crossed the threshold into my apathy. My anger has reached a point with you, that I just don’t care about you anymore. From this point on, you will never enter my mind again. So after our match on Loaded, you can grow up, get some lithium, or go kill yourself. I really don’t care which of the options you will choose.
I began to review the masterpiece of trash talk I had just laid out, when I could here the yipping at the door. He was home. Damn it. And just as I suspected, the door flung open after just a moment, and in walked Jimi, burn boy extraordinare. That damn yipping beagle clinging to his ankles, until the dumb beast finally thought, "Duh I can go in the door." Then it rushed through leaving a wake of terror in its path as it disappeared to god knows where.
Jimi: Kurt…
Kurt: What the
do you want Stoner Boy? Did your dog crap on my bed again?Jimi: No.
He stood transfixed, it looked like he honestly felt terrible about what had happened just a few days prior. Before I got another stutter filled apology, I had to act.
Kurt: Well, what do you want?
Jimi: Do you like, wanna play Mario Carts?
Kurt: Why the- Yeah… sure.
Jimi: Sweet! I get to be Donkey Kong!
He hurriedly switched on the N64, and to my shock the thing still worked. I was kind of hoping it wouldn’t. You know, valid excuse and all. But no, the son of a bitch turned on. And so now I was stuck. I mean, I can’t be a dick. I have got to do this, or I prove that everything I just wrote was a lie. I am a intellectually- disabled person. I selected my racer, and was ready for action.
Jimi: You’re playing as Wario?
Kurt: Yeah, is there a problem?
Jimi: You could’ve picked Mario or Yoshi or Luigi.
Kurt: What kind of a loser wants to play as a boy dinosaur that lays eggs or a half rate knock off of a sibling?
Jimi: Well what the hell is Wario then?
Kurt: An improvement upon the original.
Jimi: What ever.
The race began, and Jimi was left trailing in my dust. Little did he know I was the master of the super accelerator. Jimi looked confused.
Jimi: How did you do that?
Kurt: I am the master of all.
Jimi pondered my statement. Well, it’s a good distraction as I extend my lead. Jimi did well coming back, and a triple mushroom on the third turn let him get to right within a hair of me.
I could swear on my life he made a damn monkey noise. But I let it slide of my back. I mean sure its intellectually- disabled, but whatever, nothing to get bent out of shape over.
His kart collided into mine, and I lost coins.
Kurt: That was a dick move man.
Jimi: SO was cheating at takeoff.
Kurt: It is not cheating if its programmed into the game man.
Jimi: Talk to the hand, I’m in the lead.
Did he honestly just say talk to the hand. What the
? Is he a prepubescent girl? Don’t get upset man, you know the shortcut. There it is. I take the zoom pad, but veer off to the left, sending me over the hill , and about ten seconds ahead of Jimi, , but to my shock and dismay, he got the Thunderbolt.Kurt: Oh no.
Jimi Oh yes.
He hits it, and the screen flashes with light, as I shrink to only a few inches. But that’s not the bad part. The bad part is I’m right in front of a lake. No control, sploosh.
Kurt: That was a super dick move.
Jimi: Like the shortcut wasn’t.
Kurt: You really suck.
There is the sound again. That
ing monkey noise. Kurt: ARE you making MONKEY noises?
Jimi: Yeah.
Kurt: Why the hell are you making monkey noises?
Jimi: Cuz it’s fun. I am getting into character dude.
Kurt: Well stop, its annoying and juvenile.
Jimi: And getting pissed off about it isn’t?
He was right.
Jimi: You need to chill man. You know, you used to be a fun guy to be around.
Kurt: Yeah I was drunk.
He shook his head, the dismay apparent on his face.
Jimi: No, you didn’t let stuff get to you. But now, you’re like all serious all the time. You know, you should be laughing your ass off right now. We are playing the most fun game in the history of video games, but you just want to bitch about how I’m playing. Plus, you like won you’re match, didn’t you?
Kurt: You know I did.
Jimi: You really gave it to CBT and EBR… right?
Kurt: Hell yeah we did.
Jimi: Then smile champ.
He had a point. I couldn’t stop moping ever since that night with Cynthia. That horror had just stuck with me.
Jimi: Smile?
Oh God, he had that intellectually- disabled Jack Nicholson smile.
Kurt: You know get off my back man, I’ll smile when I feel like it.
Jimi looked hurt. But what he failed to realize was that I had a red koopa shell in my reserve, and it was locked on, I fired it. Jimi spun out of control and into the lake.
Kurt: Like now.
I plastered the smile on thick. My coup de gras was coming up though.
Kurt: Wahaha… Waaario.
Jimi: You’re a dick.
I laughed hysterically, as Jimi struggled to get back into the race. We laughed, both of us, until the unspeakable happened. The game froze up. Pixilated death I always called. The screen was a garbled mess of colored blocks.
Jimi: Oh man.
I shared his sentiment. I was actually having fun.
Jimi: Well, I got to go anyways. Time for the gym.
Kurt: What is with you and the gym? You are always there.
Jimi: I like it, got to do something to burn off the munchies.
He shot me a smile and a wink as he headed off through the door again. I peeled myself off the couch, and walked back over to the computer. My blog was still up. Should I post it? Nope. I exited out, and I didn’t save it. A guy like Obo, I guess is much like this game. He may be annoying and bothersome, but, nothing to get myself worked up over. And definitely not worth stooping to his level.
