Post by freak on Mar 13, 2010 0:30:10 GMT -6
Jack Clinton's heard enough from at least two of his opponents that it's become time for him to respond. He would much rather have waited until everyone had a chance to respond but considering that there were some rather pointed comments made by two of them that he has no choice but to address them.
A couple of nights ago I threw down a gauntlet and dared any of my opponents to come out and try and talk me down. And apparently, on paper at least, it looks like two of my opponents decided to take me up on that offer. But considering that the two were James Jackson and Paco Mexicano Guevara, you would wonder why I'd waste my time responding, right? Well, I'll tell you. Because there's such cases of diarrhea of the mouth going on here that it would be heresy not to respond.
Let's start out with James Jackson. Another sleep inducing promo by a man who claims I put him to sleep. Maybe I'd take him a little more seriously if he actually wasn't the cowardly jackass I know he was. Yeah, I know what your record is against me this year. I don't give a shit. I really don't. Even the best lost matches they shouldn't have lost. Hulk Hogan lost to Billy Kidman. Ric Flair lost to the damn Spirit Squad. David Arquette was a damn world champion at the expense of Diamond Dallas Page for Christ's sake. It goes on and on and on.
I was looking for you for two years, James. For two years you kept ducking me. I climbed the ladder in UHW after you vanished into thin air and when you came back, you never gave me the matches that I wanted against you. Why? What were you afraid of? Since you claim to be a better wrestler than me based on one win you got against me this year, what stopped you from facing me when I was the top dog in UHW? What stopped you from facing me when you were the top dog? What stopped you from facing me when you and I were free of whatever rivalries we may or may not have had with other people? I'll tell you what stopped you- your cowardice. That little yellow streak running down your back stopped you from stepping up to the plate and taking me on earlier. And now the chicken's come home to roost.
I don't even understand why I still have to keep sharing a ring with you. I'm tired of you. You bore me. I was after you for two years to step in the ring with me and eventually I got tired of waiting. And when I finally DID get you in the ring it was about as well received as a fart in church and about as smelly. And when I left the ring that night, I was pissed off. Not so much about the fact that I lost the match...but about the fact that I'd been waiting for you to grow enough hair on your ass to step in the ring with me for two years and I felt like Geraldo opening Al Capone's vault. I don't want to have my time wasted with you anymore. So kiss my ass goodbye as I leave the ring with the briefcase at WrestleStock...because if I have anything to say about it, it's gonna be the last time you see it across from you in a wrestling ring.
And now, it's time to deal with Tweedledumber. A guy who calls himself "The American Lab Rat." Perhaps it's fitting that he calls himself that because he has the intelligence of one. Why would you even call yourself that? I mean, when I first came around I called myself "The Freak of Nature." With good reason. "The Nature Boy." "The Hurricane." Hell, even "The Reject," "The Prince of Punk," or whatever the hell Shannon Moore is calling himself these days is better than "The American Lab Rat," for the love of God. That's why I call you Paco Mexicano, Tyler, because your name just makes my skin crawl.
There are other things about you that make my skin crawl, too. One of course being that condescending attitude that you carry yourself with. Are we all supposed to be impressed that you decide to recycle a gimmick that's been used a few thousand times before? And by people who were much better wrestlers than you could ever hope to be? And if that was ALL that it was that pissed me off about you perhaps we'd be getting somewhere. But you decided to run your mouth just a little more than you should have...and you decided to go into depths about something that you know little to nothing about, something that's quite the sore spot with me. So I'm gonna address them right now.
You wanted to bring up the downfall of the Army of the Gods. Something that I worked hard to build up and was sabotaged from the inside by one person and the outside by Matt Effing Margera. But of course you would never realize that. You were too concerned about your buddy Emo Kid's hurt feelings. Well, I really don't know what he told you, but if you're gonna accuse me of things that just aren't true, I'm gonna set the record straight.
First things first, Emo Kid was supposed to come in a package deal with you. We were originally going to bring in two people and it was suggested that I bring in both Emo Kid and you, Paco. But something happened along the way and you vanished into thin air. But I thought that it couldn't hurt to bring Emo Kid into the fold. I thought that with Wench, Chris Angel, Alex Draven, and myself, he would rise to the occasion and we would rule SNW as the new power source in the company.
The problem was that things weren't working out from the beginning. And do you know why? Because your boy Emo Kid wasn't carrying the weight we expected him to carry. And if anything I was the one keeping him in the group. If he tells you differently then he's a liar. I tried and I tried and I TRIED not to give up on him despite everybody telling me that he wasn't working out. I told myself that he would eventually come to and be the star we all knew he was. And he never did that.
It wasn't because I wanted glory for myself that I threw Emo Kid out of the group and disbanded it shortly thereafter. I don't need to have anybody by my side to shine. That was the whole point of the Army of the Gods. We formed the group because we were superstars than shone so brightly on our own that when we were together it was almost like a supernova. That's how bright our aura was supposed to be. And instead look at what happened. Alex Draven and his trust issues. Wench and her double crossing ways. I didn't need to throw Emo Kid out of the Army of the Gods to get to the main event. I was already there. By having him with us we hoped that he'd get there too, just like I had. Just like Chris Angel had. Just like Wench had. All he needed to do was show us what he had and he didn't get the job done. And after so long of trying and trying even the most patient people get tired. So don't you dare come at me and say something like I kicked Emo Kid out of the Army just because I wanted more for myself. I kicked him out of the Army because he was dead fucking weight. Just like you.
I would LOVE to see you try and spit in my face when we get in the ring. I'll grab your jaw and rip it right off your damn face and ram it up your ass. Then I'll take it out of there, jam it back into your skull, and force you to chew on whatever shit comes back with it. Just try me. You've already burned the bridge, rebuilt it, and torched it again with that ridiculously false statement you just made regarding one of the sorest spots for me in my career here...why not go for the gusto? Come on, Paco, I dare ya.
And as for the rest of you guys, do you see what's happening to me right now? Do you see how pissed off I am because of the ignorance of James Jackson, the out and out libel coming from Paco Mexicano Guevara, and your continued silence? Do ya? I hope so. Because slowly and slowly this is going to build. And two weeks from now, inside the ring, it's going to come to a head in an explosion that is going to be big enough to engulf Cowboys Stadium in rage...all it needs is just one more spark. And if you don't believe it, well...start. Because it's coming...and it'll only be the beginning.
FTB.
A couple of nights ago I threw down a gauntlet and dared any of my opponents to come out and try and talk me down. And apparently, on paper at least, it looks like two of my opponents decided to take me up on that offer. But considering that the two were James Jackson and Paco Mexicano Guevara, you would wonder why I'd waste my time responding, right? Well, I'll tell you. Because there's such cases of diarrhea of the mouth going on here that it would be heresy not to respond.
Let's start out with James Jackson. Another sleep inducing promo by a man who claims I put him to sleep. Maybe I'd take him a little more seriously if he actually wasn't the cowardly jackass I know he was. Yeah, I know what your record is against me this year. I don't give a shit. I really don't. Even the best lost matches they shouldn't have lost. Hulk Hogan lost to Billy Kidman. Ric Flair lost to the damn Spirit Squad. David Arquette was a damn world champion at the expense of Diamond Dallas Page for Christ's sake. It goes on and on and on.
I was looking for you for two years, James. For two years you kept ducking me. I climbed the ladder in UHW after you vanished into thin air and when you came back, you never gave me the matches that I wanted against you. Why? What were you afraid of? Since you claim to be a better wrestler than me based on one win you got against me this year, what stopped you from facing me when I was the top dog in UHW? What stopped you from facing me when you were the top dog? What stopped you from facing me when you and I were free of whatever rivalries we may or may not have had with other people? I'll tell you what stopped you- your cowardice. That little yellow streak running down your back stopped you from stepping up to the plate and taking me on earlier. And now the chicken's come home to roost.
I don't even understand why I still have to keep sharing a ring with you. I'm tired of you. You bore me. I was after you for two years to step in the ring with me and eventually I got tired of waiting. And when I finally DID get you in the ring it was about as well received as a fart in church and about as smelly. And when I left the ring that night, I was pissed off. Not so much about the fact that I lost the match...but about the fact that I'd been waiting for you to grow enough hair on your ass to step in the ring with me for two years and I felt like Geraldo opening Al Capone's vault. I don't want to have my time wasted with you anymore. So kiss my ass goodbye as I leave the ring with the briefcase at WrestleStock...because if I have anything to say about it, it's gonna be the last time you see it across from you in a wrestling ring.
And now, it's time to deal with Tweedledumber. A guy who calls himself "The American Lab Rat." Perhaps it's fitting that he calls himself that because he has the intelligence of one. Why would you even call yourself that? I mean, when I first came around I called myself "The Freak of Nature." With good reason. "The Nature Boy." "The Hurricane." Hell, even "The Reject," "The Prince of Punk," or whatever the hell Shannon Moore is calling himself these days is better than "The American Lab Rat," for the love of God. That's why I call you Paco Mexicano, Tyler, because your name just makes my skin crawl.
There are other things about you that make my skin crawl, too. One of course being that condescending attitude that you carry yourself with. Are we all supposed to be impressed that you decide to recycle a gimmick that's been used a few thousand times before? And by people who were much better wrestlers than you could ever hope to be? And if that was ALL that it was that pissed me off about you perhaps we'd be getting somewhere. But you decided to run your mouth just a little more than you should have...and you decided to go into depths about something that you know little to nothing about, something that's quite the sore spot with me. So I'm gonna address them right now.
You wanted to bring up the downfall of the Army of the Gods. Something that I worked hard to build up and was sabotaged from the inside by one person and the outside by Matt Effing Margera. But of course you would never realize that. You were too concerned about your buddy Emo Kid's hurt feelings. Well, I really don't know what he told you, but if you're gonna accuse me of things that just aren't true, I'm gonna set the record straight.
First things first, Emo Kid was supposed to come in a package deal with you. We were originally going to bring in two people and it was suggested that I bring in both Emo Kid and you, Paco. But something happened along the way and you vanished into thin air. But I thought that it couldn't hurt to bring Emo Kid into the fold. I thought that with Wench, Chris Angel, Alex Draven, and myself, he would rise to the occasion and we would rule SNW as the new power source in the company.
The problem was that things weren't working out from the beginning. And do you know why? Because your boy Emo Kid wasn't carrying the weight we expected him to carry. And if anything I was the one keeping him in the group. If he tells you differently then he's a liar. I tried and I tried and I TRIED not to give up on him despite everybody telling me that he wasn't working out. I told myself that he would eventually come to and be the star we all knew he was. And he never did that.
It wasn't because I wanted glory for myself that I threw Emo Kid out of the group and disbanded it shortly thereafter. I don't need to have anybody by my side to shine. That was the whole point of the Army of the Gods. We formed the group because we were superstars than shone so brightly on our own that when we were together it was almost like a supernova. That's how bright our aura was supposed to be. And instead look at what happened. Alex Draven and his trust issues. Wench and her double crossing ways. I didn't need to throw Emo Kid out of the Army of the Gods to get to the main event. I was already there. By having him with us we hoped that he'd get there too, just like I had. Just like Chris Angel had. Just like Wench had. All he needed to do was show us what he had and he didn't get the job done. And after so long of trying and trying even the most patient people get tired. So don't you dare come at me and say something like I kicked Emo Kid out of the Army just because I wanted more for myself. I kicked him out of the Army because he was dead fucking weight. Just like you.
I would LOVE to see you try and spit in my face when we get in the ring. I'll grab your jaw and rip it right off your damn face and ram it up your ass. Then I'll take it out of there, jam it back into your skull, and force you to chew on whatever shit comes back with it. Just try me. You've already burned the bridge, rebuilt it, and torched it again with that ridiculously false statement you just made regarding one of the sorest spots for me in my career here...why not go for the gusto? Come on, Paco, I dare ya.
And as for the rest of you guys, do you see what's happening to me right now? Do you see how pissed off I am because of the ignorance of James Jackson, the out and out libel coming from Paco Mexicano Guevara, and your continued silence? Do ya? I hope so. Because slowly and slowly this is going to build. And two weeks from now, inside the ring, it's going to come to a head in an explosion that is going to be big enough to engulf Cowboys Stadium in rage...all it needs is just one more spark. And if you don't believe it, well...start. Because it's coming...and it'll only be the beginning.
FTB.
