Moronic Ramblings

Dear Sports Entertainment (a.k.a Professional Wrestling),

We are done. I don't know how else to put it. I can't take the disappointment anymore.

It had been about a year's passing since we decided to give each other a try again. Initially, I approached the evening with much anticipation and trepidation. I wasn't sure where my allegiances would lie or how my anxious bones would react. Would they yearn for the good times that we once had? Would I be reminded of the lonely, desperate, and despondent nights you had rescued me from? Would I once again be filled with the exuberance of a middle aged woman at a Tom Selleck autograph signing?

Unfortunately, the flame has died down. I don't feel you are giving me enough anymore. It is time for me to move on.

I will always cherish the moments we shared together; Steamboat vs. Savage, Hogan at MSG, the Cold War story lines, the rosacea of Brother Love, The Bezerker and his "Hus!" and Rick Flair and his "WOOOOOO!!!"

Regretfully, I will also never forget the turmoil I endured towards the end; The Boogeyman, Cryme Tyme, the shameless exploitation of a one-legged wrestler, and not to mention an octagon ring.

The pain is too much for me to bear. I will always love you, but it is time for me to move on.

Always,

Wesley

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Check out this show coming in December.

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So here's a delicious piece of irony: Michael Richards goes on a racial tirade towards a heckler at the L.A. Laugh Factory. I get home last night, flip on the tube and which Seinfeld episode does TBS decide to air? Yup, the one where Jerry gets sick from eating the black and white cookie.

The scribbling of racial tension was on the wall from the get go.

"Ahhh ahh ahh...I don't like brown people, Jerry. Mmm...GIDEE-UP."

So, I haven't been doing much performance as of late (I use the word "performance" instead of "comedy" because I'm still wondering if I am funny in front of total strangers.)

HOWEVER, if I want to get back up and perform more, I have to AT LEAST stop looking like a bag of rabbit turds that has been flung off of the Chrysler Building

Mmmm...what's wrong with this picture?

a) I'm wearing a Misfits t-shirt like a 16 year old from Lodi, NJ who's pissed at his Dad for throwing out his Slipknot albums.

b) I look like Beaker, the no-neck sidekick to Bunsen Honeydew.

c) It appears that that instead of telling jokes, I am whistling the intro to "Winds of Change" by the Scorpions.

d) All of the above.

Either way, I should worry more about actually WRITING something than being concerned about the constipated appearance I seem to give. Man, I'm so fucking vain.