Post by Admin on Jul 24, 2023 23:00:49 GMT -5
LIVE FROM THE SILVER STATE BALLROOM at the historic ELDORADO CASINO in RENO, NV JULY 26, 2023 |
INT. SILVER STATE BALLROOM — THE RING.
A camera cranes over the ballroom, directed over the ring and up the ramp to the entrance. The animated UPRISING logo on the video screen goes dark. After a beat, Sleep Token’s 'Chokehold' begins to play. The crowd immediately hard turns into boos when Gorgo’s face flashes across the giant LED screen.
She walks out fresh off her victory over Chris Mosh at Vertigo. Leather leggings hug her thick legs all the way down to a pair of Chelsea boots. Up top, a black VILAROFIT t-shirt drapes down her long frame, its sleeves expertly trimmed to match a men’s muscle shirt.
At ringside she quickly ascends the steps, stopping only briefly to look out at all the scowls and middle fingers, before walking down the apron and stepping into the ring.
After taking a moment to climb a turnbuckle and soak in all the animosity flooding her way, she drops down and reaches through the ropes to take a microphone from a crewmember.
She runs her thumb across the throat while staring into the hard camera, directing the production truck to fade out her music. The thundering roar of the angry crowd rushes in to fill the void in the sound mix. False confusion plays over her face as her eyes sweep around the ballroom. After letting them go on for several seconds, she slowly raises the microphone, but the Reno crowd just gets louder. Quick shots around the building shows fans cupping their hands around their mouths as make-shift megaphones, others flashing rude gestures, and even a few anti-Gorgo signs.
She places her hand on her chest, as if taken aback by the response.
GORGO
Wait, wait. Are you people booing me because someone told you I’m the bad guy? Is that what’s going on here? Do you not see what I bring to this company? I put you into those seats you’re not currently using because you knew the moment you heard my music, you wanted to see ME. I promise you blood. I promise you violence. I give you everything you hope for and more and yet you boo me?
(shakes her head)
No, I don’t think so. I move the needle every time I walk into this ring, so I don’t think I’m going to let you disrespect me tonight. You are all going to stand there and listen to everything I have to say…but first, allow me to introduce to you the Founder and CEO of VilaroFit and my best friend, MARISOL VILARO!
The catchy beat of 'Shake it Off' by Taylor Swift soon begins to play over the loudspeaker, which adds more fuel to the fire, as the audience hates on the pop hit. As the hook drops, walking out from the back in all of her glory is none other than the Fitness Guru herself, Marisol Vilaro, who soaks in the reaction in full sarcastic flare.
Wearing a pair of designer jeans, a black designer flared lace top, and a Chanel handbag on her shoulder with matching pumps, her hair is done up in curls much like it had been done in Vertigo. The Catalonian native blows a smug kiss toward the audience and camera before strutting down to the ring like she owns the place, each step full of confidence and grace, totally apathetic to the nastiness of the crowd.
A brief spat breaks out with a handful of front-row ticket holders, but soon Marisol is heading up the stairs and down the apron. Gorgo walks over and sits on the middle rope while pushing up on the top, giving Marisol a clear path through. In the ring, Marisol twirls around to the loud adverse reaction before demanding her own microphone from the stooge mic jockey on the floor.
With microphone in hand, Mari stands side by side with her best friend. This is an alliance from hell, and the world saw it in plain sight at Vertigo. As she waits for the boos to die down the Fitness Queen places her hand on her hip in annoyance, rolling her eyes at the crowd, before assaulting their ears with that loud obnoxious tone that comes so natural to her voice.
MARISOL VILARO
What's the matter, don't like us? You don’t like what happened to Chris Mosh at Vertigo? Well too damn bad! What’s that American saying? In order to create an omelet you must crack a couple of eggs, and Chris Mosh was the first egg. You see, the One Percent was created BY ME as a vehicle to help him reach his goals. I really tried to help. I gave him everything. I dealt with Jax. I made sure he had title opportunity after title opportunity. I took shot after shot not only on social media but in the ring physically and what did I get for it? Not even one thank you. I mean, really Mosh?! You thought you did it alone? You couldn’t do anything on your own. You don’t know how.
Marisol is disgusted, both at Mosh and the boos raining down on her. And then, to make matters worse, a VIP chant breaks out. The Fitness Queen can’t help but laugh a bit.
MARISOL VILARO
For example…take when you went one on one with the most awesome and devastating force this company has ever seen: GORGO!
Here comes another wave of boos but Mari raises her voice to shout over them.
MARISOL VILARO
You thought you had a chance? Honestly I saw some fire in you. You fought harder than I’ve ever seen you, but much like my other ungrateful ex-client Summer Page you fell before The Red Queen; and why, you might wonder? There is a long list of mistakes you made at Vertigo. That’s expected. But above all of your failures, one stands out above all others.
She stares straight into the camera.
MARISOL VILARO
You put your hands on me!
A burst of cheers rush at the ring from the seats, but quickly morph back into hisses and heckles when she continues.
MARISOL VILARO
That wasn’t gonna stand. In the past you might have gotten away with it, but it was my friend here—a TRUE friend—who reminded me of exactly who and what you are: a parasite who has done nothing but take-take-take from me without ever giving back in return. It’s over Mosh. It was over the moment I smashed you right in the head. So many people in this company claimed they were going to kill the One Percent but it’s me. I killed it at Vertigo with a chair to Mosh’s face and believe me when I say that the sound of steel meeting his skull was sweet music to my ears.
Her attention moves from the camera lens to the sold-out crowd. Glaring out at all those pathetic, fat faces, she points at Gorgo.
MARISOL VILARO
And you people should thank this woman for everything she gives you. On a personal note, I want to thank her for helping me find the true me and I really love this new me.
Gorgo raises her hand and gives a pageant wave to all those drunken reprobates with a smug little smirk cutting across her mouth. Mari turns around and they embrace with a hug, because of course you have to give the people what they want…which is apparently another reason to boo them out of the building.
Gorgo steps back and swings her eyes past the ring ropes to the first level of pissed off UPRISING apologists.
GORGO
I have to say that standing here, listening to this strong, confident woman bear her heart out to each and every one of you, I am inspired. She created the most dominant faction in the history of this business with what? Mosh takes credit for the cappuccino he bought at Starbucks and Summer is more interested in what people think about her body than wrestling. She dragged them kicking and screaming to the top of the mountain only to watch them both tumble all the way back down the moment she stopped holding their hands.
She turns around in the middle of the ring, looking out at all the people still booing her like it’s going to stop her from talking.
GORGO
Oh, I’m sorry, did I lie? Everything I said is FACT and that’s why you’re so angry, because the truth cuts quicker than the sharpest lie.
Marisol smiles brightly at the statements from her bestie as she soon put her microphone up to her lips.
MARISOL VILARO
I mean look at what happened in the main event, Summer let down her guard and Tolson took advantage. Had she listened to me she'd been a two time UPRISING Champion. Same with Mosh, had he listened he wouldn’t have had a chair go right upside his skull. They needed me! I never needed them!
The fans boo this as loud as they can, as she eyes the crowd with disdain.
MARISOL VILARO
Boo all you want. The truth of the matter is you all need me too. You know it and you hate it. I mean, you are all in worse shape than ever but that is okay because I am a miracle worker. If I can make Chris Mosh and Summer Paige world champions, imagine what my system can do for you! I can help you all have a new lease on life!
Gorgo lifts her microphone, but something makes her hesitate. Mari wonders if anything is wrong, even putting a hand on her best friend’s arm for support. Gorgo runs her tongue over her teeth before giving her head a shake.
GORGO
Before we go, there are a few things I need to get off my chest. Do you people remember when I was swinging that bat around, claiming I was going to, ahem, clean up UPRISING? Prior to that, I was approached by Rick Ravenswood—
The name draws a mixed reaction from the crowd. Even Mari looks confused as to where this is going.
GORGO
—with an interesting proposal. Mr. Ravenswood had eyes on buying UPRISING but being the smart little bird he is, he knew the shareholders weren’t open to the idea of selling the promotion to anyone, much less to him. He needed to devalue UPRISING and to make owning it not worth the ulcer it would inevitably cause.
Her eyes are directed straight at the fans, being sure to focus on one before moving to the next, and only occasionally stopping to look at the camera positioned on the ring apron or the hard cam in the stands.
GORGO
So he made me a deal, a deal contingent on Larry Gowan selling off his 49% stake in the company. Question: has anyone seen Larry lately? No? That’s right. Because I did what was asked of me. On his watch I drove a multi-million dollar production truck into a river not more than three miles from here. On his watch I assaulted people with a deadly weapon. I gave Larry Gowan nightmares over what I might do next.
Gorgo stops when her eyes pass Mari. The Fitness Queen smiles awkwardly, as if all of this is news to her. Gorgo gives a little shrug of her shoulder before continuing.
GORGO
Why did I agree to all that? Partially because I was bored and it sounded fun to terrorize people, but mostly because I knew that neither Larry Gowan or Brad Jackson were ever going to give me what I want—a WORLD TITLE SHOT. A match I have earned through VIOLENCE and CONQUEST. And why is that? Gee, I wonder…
With her finger she draws a spiral in the air.
GORGO
I have been in this company for a YEAR and no one yet has been able to pin my shoulders to the mat or make me quit. And yet, while I’m having to play Deal or No Deal with Mr. Ravenswood, I watch as Larry Gowan’s favorite tv game show, “Who’s Turn Is It?” plays out every few weeks to find out who is next in line when the spreadsheet is sorted by who has been here the longest, not by who has earned it. By the way, that game show is apparently the one thing Ol’ Larry left behind on his way out the door.
A chuckle from Mari is cut off when she looks up into the stands, where the ever-present contingent of smart fans who don’t care about good guys or bad guys are cheering loud enough to be heard over the boos that thunder every time the Gowan-struck fans hear his name. Perhaps his supporters hope even now that his music might hit and the White Knight makes his return, because they are stupid.
GORGO
Listen, before you all start getting agitated again, I understand that life is a popularity contest, and I’m not winning it anytime soon. Case in point, the reaction I received when I came out here when in reality, you should all be licking my boots and saying thank you, may I have some more. That’s what Mr. Ravenswood should be doing right now. He promised that if I got him what he wanted, I would get what I wanted, and believe me when I say that I was very clear on what I wanted. I wanted my title shot and he told me yes. Unfortunately, Mr. Ravenswood never intended to fulfill his promise, because that’s what men like him do. They crave control and power, so he altered the terms of our deal.
Marisol nods her head while stepping forward with her mic at her lips with an intensely sour look on her face. Apparently something was eating at her and she began to speak in a loud tone.
MARISOL VILARO
That’s what these men do, Yelena. They set the terms of the deals. They decide who wins and who loses before the bell rings or one dollar of merchandise is sold. I’ll tell you what I see: decay everywhere. Some in this company would believe things have gotten better only because they fester in darkness like the roaches they are, and now that I am back again my light will shine down upon them and they will scatter.
But Jax—or should I say dad—lets talk. You lied to me and had no intention of ever telling me. I mean how could you do that to me. You were the only one I could trust in this place. I had enemies on all sides—hell, I even had betrayals from within but I thought you were different. I thought you quite frankly understood where I was coming from, and just got me. But in the end you proved to be another in a long line of those who would stab me in the back.
Marisol said with a disgusted look on her face, this had been festering for a bit, this wound had grown deep.
MARISOL VILARO
Not only that…not only have you caused me pain and trauma that I don’t nor have ever deserved, you have allowed Rick Ravenswood—I’m sorry…
She signs air-quotes.
MARISOL VILARO
…“The Board” to screw with me time and time again. First it was our deal regarding Vilaro Fitness items to be sold at shows. Second was not doing anything about what happened to me during my public workout.
But much like the One Percent being on the verge of death, this company is rushing toward that same fate and I will be damned if I let the company I help put on the goddamn map die slowly. I will not let my inheritance rot. I'd rather see it destroyed than to see it fall into hands that will see it suffer, because dad, you may have started this place but I will spearhead its end. I can bring this company to heights it's never seen but I can also send it tumbling into a grave with all of the other failed promotions. No longer are people going to get away with abusing me and trying to take from me. From now on I will be treated with the respect I damn well deserve!
Gorgo walks over to Mari. Both their mics lower as they say a few words back and forth, their faces giving nothing away. A few seconds pass before Gorgo turns back around ready to continue.
GORGO
Now, I’ve been a little distracted lately. My brother is in a wheelchair, Mari is launching her new VilaroFit gym company, it’s just been a very busy time in my life but now, after Vertigo, I am completely untethered, so I think it’s time we revisit this discussion.
Pablo Picasso said, “Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.” I think the man was on to something. I know that I cannot “destroy” UPRISING. At least not without committing some heinous crime in this ring on live television that would also most assuredly send me to prison.
She raises a finger in the air with a sly smile.
GORGO
However, we can tear down all of the so-called Pillars of UPRISING and nothing anyone can do will stop us. You can’t even fire us, Mr. Ravenswood, not unless you and Jackson agree to terminate our contracts, but we all know that given how much you two hate each other, that isn’t happening any time soon.
The apron-perched cameraman focuses on her as she walks over to stare into the lens.
GORGO
Ricky, every human is afraid of something. Death, poverty, the safety of their children as they go bouncing into a school that might be the location of the next shooting, the government, loneliness, war, famine, plague. From this moment forward, I will be the nightmare that keeps you up at night until you give me what I have earned.
Behind her, Mari is standing on a middle turnbuckle, sarcastically trying to get the fans to cheer, but of course leading only to more boos. Gorgo ignores them. She’s talking to an audience of one.
GORGO
Mr. Ravenswood, when we met, you looked at me and saw a person because that is what I wanted you to see. I make these people boo me because that’s what I want to hear and then let them think that it was their choice to make. I am the uncontrollable, the vicious and the evil. I am the indifference of humanity choking on its own excrement.
I am an unfeeling, unmitigated monster who wants nothing more than to make everyone else in this world feel the way they did when dear ol’ dad was alive. I will make these people believe, and I will make you believe, Mr. Ravenswood, that monsters exist…and to be successful (smile slowly crawls up her checkers), all I have to do is feed the hunger already awoken inside of me. There are no more barriers to cross. I feel good. I feel lethal. It’s time to make you take notice.
Mari stands arm to arm with Gorgo and points her manicured, multi-colored index finger nail at the hard camera.
MARISOL VILARO
In case you didn’t get it, Mr. Rick Ravenswood, there are two paths in front of you. One path leads to a better you with the Vilaro System. The other leads to the end of your short career as a wrestling promoter at the hands of Marisol Vilaro and Yelena Gorgo.
FADE TO BLACK.
CUT TO:
INT. SILVER STATE BALLROOM — THE RING.
OPENING CONTEST
THE STRAIGHT SHOOTER vs PRISCILLA WINTERS
The Straight Shooter turns around at the sound of the bell just in time to catch Priscilla Winters rushing at him. She hammers on him with some precise strikes to drive him back towards the corner only for him to snatch her arm and haul her in close. He takes her over with a vertical suplex – NOPE! He’s got her hoisted up when she breaks out and hooks his head. Thunderous DDT and she pops back to her feet, soaking up the excitement of the crowd. The Straight Shooter doesn’t stay down long and that gloating almost costs her as he nails a stiff lariat. He runs up the ropes and lauches off with a flying dropkick only to crash and burn. Winters sails in with a knee to the face and then she’s unloading Winters Fury with some BRUTAL repeated elbow strikes in the corner. Williams turtles up but the damage has clearly been done. Winters looks to end things early and she drops for the cover, but she doesn't hook the leg quickly enough and Williams kicks out at two and a half! Priscilla looks frustrated as she unloads a few more strikes before darting in for an attempted suplex only for The Straight Shooter to slip free. He goes for the tornado bulldog but Priscilla counters to a back suplex mid-move and bridges that for a pin.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
WINNER (VIA PINFALL): PRISCILLA WINTERS
CUT TO:
STATIC
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
Welcome back to "A Guide to Doing Wrong Right," and this week we'll be talking all about lies, damned lies, and statistics.
You know, they say that all lies are created equal, but you look at me and you look at Christopher Mosh and you can see that statement is not true.
I lie all the time.
Silly little lies.
Like "Marisol Vilaro is very definitely not a cult leader," which is a very obvious lie intended for humorous purposes.
Or "No, Tolson, you are definitely not being haunted by a malevolent nature spirit, there's certainly not wood randomly in the back of this tweet full of pictures of you showing off your titties just like there's something made out of wood in every other picture of you showing off your titties," which is a lie of omission, because I was asked politely to not call attention to it and I've been very good and I don't think I've brought it up in literal years.
Was it Tolson that had the nature spirit problem or was it one of UPRISING's other notorious titposters? I can never remember.
Usually I'm not this bad at telling humans apart, but I swear to fuck y'all tumbled out of the same Tijuana Bimbo Factory, because if you gave me a dozen photos from a dozen different long-haired tanned boobie-ladies that I worked with over the years, I'd have problem telling them apart if they didn't have accounts or names attached to them.
Seriously, the only way I can tell them all apart in person is through scent and flavor.
Kalinda extends a good foot or so of long, forked tongue and blows a raspberry.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
And by flavor, I mean that I draw air across my tongue. I don't go around licking random co-workers. I'm a necromancer, not a fucking Bushwhacker.
Anyway! There's other kinds of lies, and the quality of a lie lies (see what I did there) with the intent in which it's spoken.
There are good lies and there are bad lies, there are effective lies and there are ineffective lies, there are lies that are meant to be used to deceive and those that are meant to control, there are lies used to attack and there are lies used to defend, there are lies used to absorb and there are lies used to deflect.
When Chris Mosh says things like "I never meant to run Kalinda over with a car," what he's doing is making an ineffective lie. A lie meant to control. A lie meant to defend. A lie meant to deflect.
Because the reason I keep saying dear Pisstopher Moshbin is an idiot is because of just how absolutely batshit, coke-snorting, pooch-screwing ridiculous it is.
It's like the aurora borealis showing at the wrong time of year, in the wrong part of the country, at the wrong time of day, located entirely within his kitchen.
And it's like Trump's tax returns, he's never going to willingly let you see them.
Dear Moshtopher just so happens to be driving around in his car, during the show, in the parking lot, during one particular match, at the right time, in the right place, when the brawl just so happens to spill outside, and he's tearing ass down the road, ready and eager to make chunky salsa out of any small children that also might just so happen to come out from the "no parking" area outside of that particular arena garage door chasing their commemorative Page Sisters beach ball, and his just so happens to be fiddling with the radio because he always cries when the Clockwork Quartet's "The Doctor's Wife" plays and doesn't see a BRIGHT PINK FUCKING DRAGONESS standing in the middle of the street.
He hit me.
Nevada traffic law states that pedestrians have the right of way.
Pedestrians that had only just crossed the road.
If Joshy-Moshy didn't have his eyes on the road, he's criminally at fault, if he was driving fast enough where he didn't have enough reaction time to not hit me and thus going several times the legal speed limit, he's criminally at fault, if he was doing an Ace Sky and accidentally gave himself the Jace Parker Davidson Angry Pirate Special, he's criminally at fault, if he just… you know, fucking ran me over on purpose, he's criminally at fault.
He's a well-off white dude who ran the fuck over a person of color who was menacing two rich which women.
I get it.
The District Attorney isn't going to stop spinning on his office chair and pull his thumb out of his ass long enough to prosecute that one on his own, and unless Mosh confesses, he's going to keep sittin' and spinnin' unless Mosh opens his mouth and makes a confession.
Mosh may be dumb, but he's not that dumb.
Rule 1 of committing crimes is shut up.
Rule 2 is to shut up and to do what your lawyer says.
Rule 3 is to shut up and not talk about crimes you've committed on the internet.
So I get it.
But that's the thing. There's lies and then there are LIES, said in the special voice.
And this lie Mosh keeps telling is the worst kind of lie.
Because it doesn't make anybody look good.
The lie is stupid, it makes Mosh look bad for telling it.
The lie is so stupid, it makes Mosh look bad for even entertaining the idea that somebody else is going to actually accept it as the truth.
And that's the thing about these kinds of lies, they're not meant to be believed.
This is what's known as a "dogwhistle," something that most people don't actually hear, but are rather intended to be "heard" with a particular meaning by a certain group of people.
What Mosh is doing is sending a message to his peers, meant to reinforce his view of the world.
To folks like dear Moshua the world is divided into two groups.
The people like Mosh, whom the law protects but does not bind.
And then everyone else, who the law binds but does not protect.
So when Mosh hops on the ol' Twittergramophone and goes "I'm totally going to be a big boy and pee in the potty and beat Kalinda clean all on my own," he doesn't actually mean that. He's doing the same damned thing, he's putting a set of rules out there that he hopes I will accept and thus be "bound" by, and then he's going to break them.
Because fucking seriously, Mosh, I'm old enough to be your mother. I wasn't born yesterday.
Hell, now that I think about it, I'm probably old enough to where I'm on par in age with some of my co-workers' grandmothers.
Fuck, if some of your forebearers had the same problems keeping their fucking pants on and making illegitimate kids that you do, I'm old enough where I could be some of y'all's fucking great-grandmother.
I'm a supervillain.
I know lies when I see them.
So when Chris Mosh insinuates "Hey, I'm going to have a good clean fight, so you better have a good clean fight too!" I'm not fucking falling for it.
Because people who want a fair fight are idiots, and people who accept idiots at face value in wanting a fair fight are bigger idiots.
And if Mosh actually DOES come down to the ring tonight and fights fair?
Then he's an even bigger idiot than I ever imagined him to be.
You can have all the strength in the world, all the agility, all the durability, all the skill, all the talent.
You can have all that and still end up chewed up and spat out by your opponent, because the rules are for suckers.
I know that the rules are never going to protect me, and I always make damned sure that they never bind me.
But do you know who is going to be bound tonight?
Chris Mosh.
Tonight you're going to wish that you waited another three seasons before wrestling me, because I'm going to make you suffer.
I'm going to make you hurt.
I'm going to make you wish that you did more with that car when you had the chance.
Because I'm going to wrap my tail around your neck, and I'm not going to fucking let go until you've turned pinker than I am now, and bluer than I used to be.
Try not to piss yourself, Piss Wizard.
Welcome back to "A Guide to Doing Wrong Right," and this week we'll be talking all about lies, damned lies, and statistics.
You know, they say that all lies are created equal, but you look at me and you look at Christopher Mosh and you can see that statement is not true.
I lie all the time.
Silly little lies.
Like "Marisol Vilaro is very definitely not a cult leader," which is a very obvious lie intended for humorous purposes.
Or "No, Tolson, you are definitely not being haunted by a malevolent nature spirit, there's certainly not wood randomly in the back of this tweet full of pictures of you showing off your titties just like there's something made out of wood in every other picture of you showing off your titties," which is a lie of omission, because I was asked politely to not call attention to it and I've been very good and I don't think I've brought it up in literal years.
Was it Tolson that had the nature spirit problem or was it one of UPRISING's other notorious titposters? I can never remember.
Usually I'm not this bad at telling humans apart, but I swear to fuck y'all tumbled out of the same Tijuana Bimbo Factory, because if you gave me a dozen photos from a dozen different long-haired tanned boobie-ladies that I worked with over the years, I'd have problem telling them apart if they didn't have accounts or names attached to them.
Seriously, the only way I can tell them all apart in person is through scent and flavor.
Kalinda extends a good foot or so of long, forked tongue and blows a raspberry.
KALINDA KRIEGSDOTTIR
And by flavor, I mean that I draw air across my tongue. I don't go around licking random co-workers. I'm a necromancer, not a fucking Bushwhacker.
Anyway! There's other kinds of lies, and the quality of a lie lies (see what I did there) with the intent in which it's spoken.
There are good lies and there are bad lies, there are effective lies and there are ineffective lies, there are lies that are meant to be used to deceive and those that are meant to control, there are lies used to attack and there are lies used to defend, there are lies used to absorb and there are lies used to deflect.
When Chris Mosh says things like "I never meant to run Kalinda over with a car," what he's doing is making an ineffective lie. A lie meant to control. A lie meant to defend. A lie meant to deflect.
Because the reason I keep saying dear Pisstopher Moshbin is an idiot is because of just how absolutely batshit, coke-snorting, pooch-screwing ridiculous it is.
It's like the aurora borealis showing at the wrong time of year, in the wrong part of the country, at the wrong time of day, located entirely within his kitchen.
And it's like Trump's tax returns, he's never going to willingly let you see them.
Dear Moshtopher just so happens to be driving around in his car, during the show, in the parking lot, during one particular match, at the right time, in the right place, when the brawl just so happens to spill outside, and he's tearing ass down the road, ready and eager to make chunky salsa out of any small children that also might just so happen to come out from the "no parking" area outside of that particular arena garage door chasing their commemorative Page Sisters beach ball, and his just so happens to be fiddling with the radio because he always cries when the Clockwork Quartet's "The Doctor's Wife" plays and doesn't see a BRIGHT PINK FUCKING DRAGONESS standing in the middle of the street.
He hit me.
Nevada traffic law states that pedestrians have the right of way.
Pedestrians that had only just crossed the road.
If Joshy-Moshy didn't have his eyes on the road, he's criminally at fault, if he was driving fast enough where he didn't have enough reaction time to not hit me and thus going several times the legal speed limit, he's criminally at fault, if he was doing an Ace Sky and accidentally gave himself the Jace Parker Davidson Angry Pirate Special, he's criminally at fault, if he just… you know, fucking ran me over on purpose, he's criminally at fault.
He's a well-off white dude who ran the fuck over a person of color who was menacing two rich which women.
I get it.
The District Attorney isn't going to stop spinning on his office chair and pull his thumb out of his ass long enough to prosecute that one on his own, and unless Mosh confesses, he's going to keep sittin' and spinnin' unless Mosh opens his mouth and makes a confession.
Mosh may be dumb, but he's not that dumb.
Rule 1 of committing crimes is shut up.
Rule 2 is to shut up and to do what your lawyer says.
Rule 3 is to shut up and not talk about crimes you've committed on the internet.
So I get it.
But that's the thing. There's lies and then there are LIES, said in the special voice.
And this lie Mosh keeps telling is the worst kind of lie.
Because it doesn't make anybody look good.
The lie is stupid, it makes Mosh look bad for telling it.
The lie is so stupid, it makes Mosh look bad for even entertaining the idea that somebody else is going to actually accept it as the truth.
And that's the thing about these kinds of lies, they're not meant to be believed.
This is what's known as a "dogwhistle," something that most people don't actually hear, but are rather intended to be "heard" with a particular meaning by a certain group of people.
What Mosh is doing is sending a message to his peers, meant to reinforce his view of the world.
To folks like dear Moshua the world is divided into two groups.
The people like Mosh, whom the law protects but does not bind.
And then everyone else, who the law binds but does not protect.
So when Mosh hops on the ol' Twittergramophone and goes "I'm totally going to be a big boy and pee in the potty and beat Kalinda clean all on my own," he doesn't actually mean that. He's doing the same damned thing, he's putting a set of rules out there that he hopes I will accept and thus be "bound" by, and then he's going to break them.
Because fucking seriously, Mosh, I'm old enough to be your mother. I wasn't born yesterday.
Hell, now that I think about it, I'm probably old enough to where I'm on par in age with some of my co-workers' grandmothers.
Fuck, if some of your forebearers had the same problems keeping their fucking pants on and making illegitimate kids that you do, I'm old enough where I could be some of y'all's fucking great-grandmother.
I'm a supervillain.
I know lies when I see them.
So when Chris Mosh insinuates "Hey, I'm going to have a good clean fight, so you better have a good clean fight too!" I'm not fucking falling for it.
Because people who want a fair fight are idiots, and people who accept idiots at face value in wanting a fair fight are bigger idiots.
And if Mosh actually DOES come down to the ring tonight and fights fair?
Then he's an even bigger idiot than I ever imagined him to be.
You can have all the strength in the world, all the agility, all the durability, all the skill, all the talent.
You can have all that and still end up chewed up and spat out by your opponent, because the rules are for suckers.
I know that the rules are never going to protect me, and I always make damned sure that they never bind me.
But do you know who is going to be bound tonight?
Chris Mosh.
Tonight you're going to wish that you waited another three seasons before wrestling me, because I'm going to make you suffer.
I'm going to make you hurt.
I'm going to make you wish that you did more with that car when you had the chance.
Because I'm going to wrap my tail around your neck, and I'm not going to fucking let go until you've turned pinker than I am now, and bluer than I used to be.
Try not to piss yourself, Piss Wizard.
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