Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2007 0:55:01 GMT -5
(What do we say about domination? What do we say about manipulation and intrigue? Is it wrong to ever want to just let loose and kill a motherfucker? Is it wrong to ever want to just let loose and eat every slice of cheesecake in the world? These stories and more tonight at 11!! Hahahahaha!!! I was watching the man on the TV this morning. He was talking about how the old religious idiom of "Once saved, always saved" is a bunch of bullshit. He was saying that if you stray from the flock you need to repent, otherwise you're going to Hell. It doesn't matter how long you've been saved. If you stray, you must repent or you're going straight to Hell! And it, uh, it kinda reminded me of the world of professional wrestling. Because it doesn't matter how many great things that you've done. It doesn't matter if you've held the World Title. It doesn't matter if you won the big money feud last year. Because once you do the big J-O-B, you're going straight to Hell. Mid-card Hell, that is! That's why a match like the War match is so important. For all of Bobby Cairo's trials and tribulations he still wants to be the World Champion. The World Title holds a position of unparalleled prestige and significance even to a nutjob like Cairo. So that's why he's basically just going to sit down in a sturdy old metal folding chair in front of a black curtain and just talk. He's just wearing his street clothes, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, black sweatpants and a pair of Nikes, nothing fancy. And he's just gonna tell you what's going on in his mind right now. He's gonna talk about the War match. He's gonna talk about Lawnmower Jones and Lonnie. He's even gonna delve into some personal matters that might surprise you. I think it will be a nice change of pace because we're gonna get away from the insanity for once and just talk the way that human beings sometimes talk. Kind of like a candid heart-to-heart sort of thing. So.......enjoy!)
BOBBY CAIRO: It seems that the doomsday proclamation is upon us. Shadows converge, forming a blanket of darkness, as 20 men put their careers on the line in the War match. Why do we do it? Why do we sacrifice our health and our very well being in this match? We do it for the very same reason that any great competitor makes any great sacrifice. We do it to be the best. We do it to earn our rightful shot at the WCF World Championship. I've held the WCF World Championship. I know what it means to be the best that this sport has to offer. Will I bleed for the chance to regain that championship? You're damn right I'll bleed. Will I suffer in agonizing pain to regain that championship? You're damn right I'll suffer! I will spill every last drop of my own blood until I'm reduced to nothing more than a blubbering, spasming, incoherent mess of a human being! Oh wait, I already am! Hahahahahaha!!!!
(So what exactly is a billabong? Is that the full, official name of the standard bong that we smoke pot from? Is it some part of the female anatomy located alongside the fallopian tubes? I mean, seriously, what the heck is a billabong? Well, back to the point. Bobby is giving you some general knowledge here. He's telling you how important it is for him to win the War match so that he can earn a shot at the WCF World Championship. Pretty standard stuff so far, basically the same message that you will hear from all 20 competitors in the War match.)
BOBBY CAIRO: I have absolutely nothing to lose going into this match because misery and torment are not my handicaps. They might be handicaps for Skyler Striker, JJ Biggs or Mike Ragnal, but they're not handicaps for Bobby Cairo. When you step into that ring on Sunday, you're stepping into my dimension. You're stepping into my domain of decay. Your consciousness will become a prison when I reign over you completely! Do you know why I have such little regard for my health and your health and your baby mama's health? The reason why is simply because I realize how utterly pointless it is to feign over such nonsense! I am an accident of God! I am a mistake of creation! My immortal soul will forever rot in the harsh fires and pungent stench of eternal damnation! I am rotting right now! I am dissipating before your very eyes! My incarceration begins not with my death, but with my very creation! I am a servant of God and a slave of Satan! And you know something? I like it!
(You guys really think Memphis can win a National Championship? I mean, who have they beaten this year? Oklahoma? Kentucky? Gonzaga? Sure, they went undefeated in Conference USA, but the last time I checked Louisville and Marquette were no longer members of Conference USA! Those thrilling victories over UTEP and SMU just don't really do anything for me! Come on now, let's get serious. Ok, back to business. So, Cairo is telling us that he's prepared for War because the suffering and agony of such a match doesn't bother him. In fact, he rather enjoys it. Those are strong words, but one has to wonder if a man who has no experience in the War match can truly be prepared for such a wretched encounter. Nevertheless, Cairo is a tough man and it should be very intriguing to see how he performs in the big match...with all those marbles on the line.)
BOBBY CAIRO: Lawnmower Jones, you stupid son of a bitch! You interfered once again! I had those infernal idiots Vice and Howell exactly where I wanted them! Victory was within my grasp! How does it feel to be a scoundrel, Jones? How does it feel to be the lowest form of human existence? How would you like it if I pulled out a fully automatic assault rifle and blew you the fuck away? Live on WCF television, Bobby Cairo blows Lawnmower Jones the fuck away! Just think about the possibilities, Jones. We could get Charlton Heston and Martin Sheen and have a great debate about gun control after I splatter your brains all over the ring! I sure hope the fans in the front row are wearing their emergency ponchos because it could get very messy! Oh wait, I forgot...you don't have any brains, Mr. Jones. You run purely on adrenaline. You don't have a rational thought running through your mind because you have no mind! You are an animal and I ain't talking about some Batista bullshit! You fuck, you drink and you fight! And once upon a time you even mowed the lawn! But that ain't happening no more, now is it Mr. Jones? It's not happening because of me! I did it, you motherfucker! It was me all along, Jones! You know something else, LJ? I hope that your little bitch Lonnie drops dead! In fact, I'm going to cut an album with the members of some washed up boy band like 98 Degrees or Metallica. We're gonna record an album and we're gonna call it Die Lonnie You Motherfucking Bitch Die!!!!!! And then we're gonna release the first single and it's gonna be called Lonnie You Motherfucking Bitch Die You Stupid Bitch Die!!!!!!!!!!!
(Hostility, vitriol, venom, vile...Cairo has no shortage of those attributes. A leopard without spots is still a leopard. A tiger without stripes is still a tiger. Bobby Cairo has always been a man with the ability to appreciate modern fashion trends without forgetting that vintage class and glamour of yesteryear. But most importantly Cairo brings the goods. It doesn't matter how you dress it up. A man who knows how to fight will always bring the storm and the carnage to your front door. It doesn't matter if he's wearing a tuxedo. It doesn't matter if he's naked. It doesn't matter if he's wearing a Ric Flair robe with matching tights and boots. All that matters is that the man knows his own inner vital statistics. The victory of battles and the loss of the blood determines nothing. When the sun shines brightly within you and the fire burns brightly in all of the cities around the world, then and only then can you hold your head high and flip that middle finger to the opposition.)
BOBBY CAIRO: Think about it for a moment. Just think about Bobby Cairo as the WCF World Champion. The Man of the Hour as the WCF World Champion. That would really be something, wouldn't it? Seth Lerch would never let it happen. Seth Lerch is too busy promoting cartoon characters with fancy tights and snappy catchphrases into the man event! That's why I must take the control out of Lerch's hands. If I win the War, even Seth Lerch can't stop me from cashing in my title shot. God, that would be so awesome! It almost brings tears to my eyes when I think back to the night that I first captured the WCF World Championship. I don't even remember who I was wrestling, or how I won the match, or if I won the match. All I remember is holding the WCF World Championship tile belt above my head for the first time. It was a glorious feeling. I've fucked Maggie Gyllenhaal and that was only a slightly better feeling than winning the title! But that's kind of when things fell apart, right? That's when I stopped being motivated. It was almost like a malaise, like some Jimmy Carter shit. I stopped caring about dismembering other lifeforms. All I cared about was cocktail parties with celebrities and free porn on the internet and brownies filled with pot. Those were great times, but they weren't great for me. When I got my ass kicked and I lost that title, it should have been the best thing that ever happened to me. It was exactly the wake-up call that I needed. Unfortunately I got that wake-up call and I hung up the damn phone and went back to sleep. I know, bad Bobby bad! What were you thinking, Bobby? How could you throw everything away? Those were the questions that people would ask me during my hiatus from WCF. My parents? They wouldn't even talk to me. My sister? She pretended that she didn't even know me. Well, she was right. She didn't know me. I didn't know me. Nobody knew me.
(The matter transforms the light and the light shines down upon the matter. What makes you ill? For a young man named Cairo, a horrible disgusting young man named Cairo, the illness was in the soul. A matter of life and death doesn't even begin to set the scene. So what do we say? How can one describe the soulsick? Well, we can start by telling them to "Get Bent!" or "Go to Hell!", but what if they are already bent? What if they are already in Hell?)
BOBBY CAIRO: It was in my darkest hour that I met a man named Bruce Wong. Mr. Wong was a luminance departure from every other human being that I've ever met. From the moment that I met him, he instantly understood that I was a troubled young man. It was almost as if he knew exactly what my problem was before I ever told him. He knew, and he was testing me to see if I knew. Mr. Wong taught me that the only way that one can live is to live without fear. You can't be afraid of failure. You can't be afraid of having your deepest, darkest secrets divulged to the entire world. You certainly can't be afraid of dying, but you guys already knew that one. I guess I would say that Mr. Wong taught me that life isn't life if you live by other people's standards and expectations. And sometimes people forget who they really are. Be yourself, that's what it comes down to. Took me long enough to figure out that one.
(The mysteries of life. The infinite possibilities of limitless dimensions. With all of the instability and unpredictability in the universe, isn't it amazing that human beings such as us can even sit here and have a conversation? It's almost miraculous. Of course, there are those of us who would rather not sit and chat. There are those of us who only understand the language of violence. To that end, we fight and we battle back and forth inside of the wrestling ring. Money is a motivating factor, fame is a motivating factor, sex with groupies is a motivating factor. But more importantly some of us just enjoy inflicting an undue punishment upon helpless and hapless foes. What do we say about such a phenomenon? Do we say that it's unhealthy or unjust, maybe even a little bit unfair? Or is it perfectly acceptable behavior? if we're glorifying it by putting it on television, then doesn't that make it ok? Or do we put it on television as a means of discouraging such behavior? Maybe we're trying to tell people "This is what can happen to you if you act like a dipshit, so don't do it!" But the mere fact that we're sending a message that can so easily be misconstrued, well that tells me that the message is not getting through. So how do we correct the problem? Do we reform our standards as a society? And if so, who makes that call? Is it a governmental decision? Is it a personal decision? It's certainly an interesting bit of food for thought.)
BOBBY CAIRO: Black and white is a state of mind. Gray is a state of mind. I remember when I was a young child in the late 1980s. I remember hearing The Cult for the first time. They had a lot of great songs that moved my young soul. I remember being very excited about sparkly blue toothpaste. It wasn't like regular toothpaste. It was exciting, fun and dynamic. I also remember one hot summer day. I was sitting on the grass in the front yard. I was wearing a white t-shirt and eating watermelon. The juice from the watermelon dripped down onto my shirt and left a big red stain. I remembering being worried that my mother would be very upset. I thought that she would beat me or get my father to beat me. In that moment, I became absolutely terrified. I had no reason to think such thoughts. Neither of my parents had ever raised their fist to me. If I remember correctly, I had been watching the TV the night before and I saw a movie where a mother struck her child. Pam Dawber or an actress of similar ilk played the mother. That was the first time that I can ever recall being betrayed by television.
(Insecurity is not a trait of the strong-willed. Victory is never guaranteed, even for the greatest warrior...the Ultimate Warrior. Maybe the stars need to properly align. Maybe one only needs the proper motivation. But what if one is so perplexed and confused, that only an extreme release of raw human emotion can possibly provide solace? Life often becomes a self-imposed disaster for many of us. Many problems that we face are real and vital threats to our safety and security. But just as many problems are delusions created by the sub-conscious mind as a test of the conscious mind. If we can pass those tests, then and only then can we begin to persevere. Perseverance is crucial. You cannot thrive until you have first persevered.)
BOBBY CAIRO: I remember my initial sexual conquest. She was a woman named Theresa or possibly Melinda...maybe Erin. I went over to her parents' beachside estate one night. Her parents were over to a social gathering with their rich, white friends, so we had the place to ourselves. She was a vision of lustful perfection. Those long, luscious legs. Her succulent bosoms hanging out of her blouse like so many Kenny Rogers Roasters. Would I remember the restholds? Well, quite frankly, I wasn't very concerned with the restholds. All I knew, was that it was going to be an evening of passion and I could hardly keep it in my pants. So we did the deed and it was, as you might expect, quite outstanding. Confusing at times, but a lot of fun. Bobby Cairo had finally left his imprint on the female of the species. This occurred when I was 17 years old. After it was over, I went to Burger King and had dinner by myself. I figured that one "Home of the Whopper" deserved another.
(Fleeting are the opportunities to make a true impact in this world, to paint one's name among the stars and cast down thine enemies to the mud and muck below. What would it were for a devilish young man named Cairo to capture the glory above all others? Will Cairo become the conqueror or the conquered? Cairo's golden touch has faded since his earliest success but will the stars align once again? Only fate, God, and the hip-hop community know for sure. Cairo...out.)
BOBBY CAIRO: It seems that the doomsday proclamation is upon us. Shadows converge, forming a blanket of darkness, as 20 men put their careers on the line in the War match. Why do we do it? Why do we sacrifice our health and our very well being in this match? We do it for the very same reason that any great competitor makes any great sacrifice. We do it to be the best. We do it to earn our rightful shot at the WCF World Championship. I've held the WCF World Championship. I know what it means to be the best that this sport has to offer. Will I bleed for the chance to regain that championship? You're damn right I'll bleed. Will I suffer in agonizing pain to regain that championship? You're damn right I'll suffer! I will spill every last drop of my own blood until I'm reduced to nothing more than a blubbering, spasming, incoherent mess of a human being! Oh wait, I already am! Hahahahahaha!!!!
(So what exactly is a billabong? Is that the full, official name of the standard bong that we smoke pot from? Is it some part of the female anatomy located alongside the fallopian tubes? I mean, seriously, what the heck is a billabong? Well, back to the point. Bobby is giving you some general knowledge here. He's telling you how important it is for him to win the War match so that he can earn a shot at the WCF World Championship. Pretty standard stuff so far, basically the same message that you will hear from all 20 competitors in the War match.)
BOBBY CAIRO: I have absolutely nothing to lose going into this match because misery and torment are not my handicaps. They might be handicaps for Skyler Striker, JJ Biggs or Mike Ragnal, but they're not handicaps for Bobby Cairo. When you step into that ring on Sunday, you're stepping into my dimension. You're stepping into my domain of decay. Your consciousness will become a prison when I reign over you completely! Do you know why I have such little regard for my health and your health and your baby mama's health? The reason why is simply because I realize how utterly pointless it is to feign over such nonsense! I am an accident of God! I am a mistake of creation! My immortal soul will forever rot in the harsh fires and pungent stench of eternal damnation! I am rotting right now! I am dissipating before your very eyes! My incarceration begins not with my death, but with my very creation! I am a servant of God and a slave of Satan! And you know something? I like it!
(You guys really think Memphis can win a National Championship? I mean, who have they beaten this year? Oklahoma? Kentucky? Gonzaga? Sure, they went undefeated in Conference USA, but the last time I checked Louisville and Marquette were no longer members of Conference USA! Those thrilling victories over UTEP and SMU just don't really do anything for me! Come on now, let's get serious. Ok, back to business. So, Cairo is telling us that he's prepared for War because the suffering and agony of such a match doesn't bother him. In fact, he rather enjoys it. Those are strong words, but one has to wonder if a man who has no experience in the War match can truly be prepared for such a wretched encounter. Nevertheless, Cairo is a tough man and it should be very intriguing to see how he performs in the big match...with all those marbles on the line.)
BOBBY CAIRO: Lawnmower Jones, you stupid son of a bitch! You interfered once again! I had those infernal idiots Vice and Howell exactly where I wanted them! Victory was within my grasp! How does it feel to be a scoundrel, Jones? How does it feel to be the lowest form of human existence? How would you like it if I pulled out a fully automatic assault rifle and blew you the fuck away? Live on WCF television, Bobby Cairo blows Lawnmower Jones the fuck away! Just think about the possibilities, Jones. We could get Charlton Heston and Martin Sheen and have a great debate about gun control after I splatter your brains all over the ring! I sure hope the fans in the front row are wearing their emergency ponchos because it could get very messy! Oh wait, I forgot...you don't have any brains, Mr. Jones. You run purely on adrenaline. You don't have a rational thought running through your mind because you have no mind! You are an animal and I ain't talking about some Batista bullshit! You fuck, you drink and you fight! And once upon a time you even mowed the lawn! But that ain't happening no more, now is it Mr. Jones? It's not happening because of me! I did it, you motherfucker! It was me all along, Jones! You know something else, LJ? I hope that your little bitch Lonnie drops dead! In fact, I'm going to cut an album with the members of some washed up boy band like 98 Degrees or Metallica. We're gonna record an album and we're gonna call it Die Lonnie You Motherfucking Bitch Die!!!!!! And then we're gonna release the first single and it's gonna be called Lonnie You Motherfucking Bitch Die You Stupid Bitch Die!!!!!!!!!!!
(Hostility, vitriol, venom, vile...Cairo has no shortage of those attributes. A leopard without spots is still a leopard. A tiger without stripes is still a tiger. Bobby Cairo has always been a man with the ability to appreciate modern fashion trends without forgetting that vintage class and glamour of yesteryear. But most importantly Cairo brings the goods. It doesn't matter how you dress it up. A man who knows how to fight will always bring the storm and the carnage to your front door. It doesn't matter if he's wearing a tuxedo. It doesn't matter if he's naked. It doesn't matter if he's wearing a Ric Flair robe with matching tights and boots. All that matters is that the man knows his own inner vital statistics. The victory of battles and the loss of the blood determines nothing. When the sun shines brightly within you and the fire burns brightly in all of the cities around the world, then and only then can you hold your head high and flip that middle finger to the opposition.)
BOBBY CAIRO: Think about it for a moment. Just think about Bobby Cairo as the WCF World Champion. The Man of the Hour as the WCF World Champion. That would really be something, wouldn't it? Seth Lerch would never let it happen. Seth Lerch is too busy promoting cartoon characters with fancy tights and snappy catchphrases into the man event! That's why I must take the control out of Lerch's hands. If I win the War, even Seth Lerch can't stop me from cashing in my title shot. God, that would be so awesome! It almost brings tears to my eyes when I think back to the night that I first captured the WCF World Championship. I don't even remember who I was wrestling, or how I won the match, or if I won the match. All I remember is holding the WCF World Championship tile belt above my head for the first time. It was a glorious feeling. I've fucked Maggie Gyllenhaal and that was only a slightly better feeling than winning the title! But that's kind of when things fell apart, right? That's when I stopped being motivated. It was almost like a malaise, like some Jimmy Carter shit. I stopped caring about dismembering other lifeforms. All I cared about was cocktail parties with celebrities and free porn on the internet and brownies filled with pot. Those were great times, but they weren't great for me. When I got my ass kicked and I lost that title, it should have been the best thing that ever happened to me. It was exactly the wake-up call that I needed. Unfortunately I got that wake-up call and I hung up the damn phone and went back to sleep. I know, bad Bobby bad! What were you thinking, Bobby? How could you throw everything away? Those were the questions that people would ask me during my hiatus from WCF. My parents? They wouldn't even talk to me. My sister? She pretended that she didn't even know me. Well, she was right. She didn't know me. I didn't know me. Nobody knew me.
(The matter transforms the light and the light shines down upon the matter. What makes you ill? For a young man named Cairo, a horrible disgusting young man named Cairo, the illness was in the soul. A matter of life and death doesn't even begin to set the scene. So what do we say? How can one describe the soulsick? Well, we can start by telling them to "Get Bent!" or "Go to Hell!", but what if they are already bent? What if they are already in Hell?)
BOBBY CAIRO: It was in my darkest hour that I met a man named Bruce Wong. Mr. Wong was a luminance departure from every other human being that I've ever met. From the moment that I met him, he instantly understood that I was a troubled young man. It was almost as if he knew exactly what my problem was before I ever told him. He knew, and he was testing me to see if I knew. Mr. Wong taught me that the only way that one can live is to live without fear. You can't be afraid of failure. You can't be afraid of having your deepest, darkest secrets divulged to the entire world. You certainly can't be afraid of dying, but you guys already knew that one. I guess I would say that Mr. Wong taught me that life isn't life if you live by other people's standards and expectations. And sometimes people forget who they really are. Be yourself, that's what it comes down to. Took me long enough to figure out that one.
(The mysteries of life. The infinite possibilities of limitless dimensions. With all of the instability and unpredictability in the universe, isn't it amazing that human beings such as us can even sit here and have a conversation? It's almost miraculous. Of course, there are those of us who would rather not sit and chat. There are those of us who only understand the language of violence. To that end, we fight and we battle back and forth inside of the wrestling ring. Money is a motivating factor, fame is a motivating factor, sex with groupies is a motivating factor. But more importantly some of us just enjoy inflicting an undue punishment upon helpless and hapless foes. What do we say about such a phenomenon? Do we say that it's unhealthy or unjust, maybe even a little bit unfair? Or is it perfectly acceptable behavior? if we're glorifying it by putting it on television, then doesn't that make it ok? Or do we put it on television as a means of discouraging such behavior? Maybe we're trying to tell people "This is what can happen to you if you act like a dipshit, so don't do it!" But the mere fact that we're sending a message that can so easily be misconstrued, well that tells me that the message is not getting through. So how do we correct the problem? Do we reform our standards as a society? And if so, who makes that call? Is it a governmental decision? Is it a personal decision? It's certainly an interesting bit of food for thought.)
BOBBY CAIRO: Black and white is a state of mind. Gray is a state of mind. I remember when I was a young child in the late 1980s. I remember hearing The Cult for the first time. They had a lot of great songs that moved my young soul. I remember being very excited about sparkly blue toothpaste. It wasn't like regular toothpaste. It was exciting, fun and dynamic. I also remember one hot summer day. I was sitting on the grass in the front yard. I was wearing a white t-shirt and eating watermelon. The juice from the watermelon dripped down onto my shirt and left a big red stain. I remembering being worried that my mother would be very upset. I thought that she would beat me or get my father to beat me. In that moment, I became absolutely terrified. I had no reason to think such thoughts. Neither of my parents had ever raised their fist to me. If I remember correctly, I had been watching the TV the night before and I saw a movie where a mother struck her child. Pam Dawber or an actress of similar ilk played the mother. That was the first time that I can ever recall being betrayed by television.
(Insecurity is not a trait of the strong-willed. Victory is never guaranteed, even for the greatest warrior...the Ultimate Warrior. Maybe the stars need to properly align. Maybe one only needs the proper motivation. But what if one is so perplexed and confused, that only an extreme release of raw human emotion can possibly provide solace? Life often becomes a self-imposed disaster for many of us. Many problems that we face are real and vital threats to our safety and security. But just as many problems are delusions created by the sub-conscious mind as a test of the conscious mind. If we can pass those tests, then and only then can we begin to persevere. Perseverance is crucial. You cannot thrive until you have first persevered.)
BOBBY CAIRO: I remember my initial sexual conquest. She was a woman named Theresa or possibly Melinda...maybe Erin. I went over to her parents' beachside estate one night. Her parents were over to a social gathering with their rich, white friends, so we had the place to ourselves. She was a vision of lustful perfection. Those long, luscious legs. Her succulent bosoms hanging out of her blouse like so many Kenny Rogers Roasters. Would I remember the restholds? Well, quite frankly, I wasn't very concerned with the restholds. All I knew, was that it was going to be an evening of passion and I could hardly keep it in my pants. So we did the deed and it was, as you might expect, quite outstanding. Confusing at times, but a lot of fun. Bobby Cairo had finally left his imprint on the female of the species. This occurred when I was 17 years old. After it was over, I went to Burger King and had dinner by myself. I figured that one "Home of the Whopper" deserved another.
(Fleeting are the opportunities to make a true impact in this world, to paint one's name among the stars and cast down thine enemies to the mud and muck below. What would it were for a devilish young man named Cairo to capture the glory above all others? Will Cairo become the conqueror or the conquered? Cairo's golden touch has faded since his earliest success but will the stars align once again? Only fate, God, and the hip-hop community know for sure. Cairo...out.)
