Post by Maxx on Sept 17, 2018 18:59:01 GMT
Dear editor,
please accept my resignation effective immediately.
My name’s Josh Temple, and up until recently I wrote a weekly amateur “special to” freelance column for your website, Wrestle Press.
I was one of the few of your freelancers going to newer federations, and while I’ll always be an advocate for supporting new federations, and new talent, I’ll always appreciate the valued reporting your website does for the wrestling community at large, and value the quality articles covering the bigger federations.
I don’t blame people for not taking notice of Wild Wrestling Unleashed at first. After all, it just had its pilot episode, the talent there is still unestablished, and it is, as such, an unproven commodity. I wouldn’t even have known to attend WWU’s first event at the Wildhouse at Knots Berry Farm in California, had I myself not been invited by email from a friend from college.
The show was first rate, and I’m not really upset you chose not to run my review. I get it. It wasn’t the best review I’ve ever written, I was a bit distracted, and, frankly, there aren’t as many hits to collect from a fledgling organization as there are for the biggies, and that’s not why I’m resigning.
I’m resigning because I’ve discovered that what I previously thought was my purpose on earth has been a sham.
You’re wasting your time covering anything other than the Goddess in control of the Heavens and the Earth who has chosen to bless the Wildhouse with her presence.
You’re skeptical. I was skeptical.
I was skeptical after the show, too. I was skeptical in spite of seeing her in action, winning a match she had every possible reason to lose considering the competition she faced, from the overwhelming offense of an entire stable of competitors called the Zaibatsu, to an intergalactic space traveler with super powers called the Space Lord, to that one MMA guy I recommended no one sleep on but they did anyway, Jaguar. WWU has so many good reasons to tune in, and so many worthy competitors for their title belt.
I wasn’t convinced about the hype surrounding this “Goddess” at first. MY friend had sent me what amounted to a seemingly rambling account of his first encounter with her on a beach, and how she’d, implausibly healed his broken leg and wandered off as aimlessly as she’d wandered into his life.
After the show, as he and a collection of her followers stood in wait backstage for the new Epic Champion I asked him how he knew she was a real Goddess, and not just hanging on to some wrestling gimmick.
I mean, come on… this is pro wrestling.
All of these characters are just gimmicks, right?
Abattage isn’t a real monster, Gabbi the Caramel Goddess isn’t REALLY in porn films, and Harry Hanson just pretends to be a drooling mass of testosterone-laden perversion... Right?
My friend isn’t the gullible type, either, before you ask. He was the one who brought me to one of my first indie wrestling shows, took me back stage, took me to party with his friend who was a wrestler. He knows the difference between a gimmick and reality.
I asked him backstage how he knew this, Maxx, was a real goddess, and his expression changed serious, wide-eyed and faith-filled as he responded without self-effacement, “seeing is believing, brother.”
So, at first glance, yeah, no she is a glorious specimen of physical fitness. I could see it outright. It was an unmistakably noticeable fact which stood out from thirty seats back in the nosebleeds during the mess of a match that ran through the Pilot episode.
I tagged along with her entourage as she left. I smirked as her followers begged her to hold her newly won title for her. She never said a word in those first moments. There was, admittedly, an unnerving, almost otherworldly calm about her in spite having exerted herself in a spectacular match from the beginning to the end. The more time I spent among her and her followers, the more I wanted to understand this certain belief they all held about her, that she wasn’t just some supremely talented wrestler who’d arrived out of nowhere to pick up a title win it what seemed like her first wrestling match ever, but that she was, in fact, a deity walking among them incarnated into flesh.
I took the chance and as we made it to one of her follower’s homes, (they’d argued and fought over the chance to room the Goddess for hours before proximity won the fight,) I asked her where she received her training, where she’d wrestled before WWU.
She only smiled. It was a calm, serene, distinctly unnerving smile, and all she would answer with was, “all will be revealed at the appointed time. Come. Follow me.”
And I did.
They threw a house party that night, but the woman of the night didn’t seem interested in taking part. She vanished and I mingled among the faithful who all had similar stories to my friend about encountering this woman who seemed to radiate an aura of peaceful serenity that filled everyone in her presence, and that she’d worked miracles.
I asked them if she’d told them she was a goddess, and they’d just taken to heart the act.
“She doesn’t need to say it. I just know it. In my heart I know it. That’s where she speaks to me.” It was like a broken record after a while, and I was getting on some of their nerves.
I’ve spent time in churches before. It’s like a cult. I was an invader setting out to expose their god as a fraud, so there was bound to be pushback. Polite pushback. I discussed at length in the living room with my friend and a collection of the “deity’s” followers how they could be so sure, how it wasn’t just an act they were putting on, all of it.
I don’t believe in ghosts, or aliens, or the bigfoot, or the Loch Ness monster. I hated the X-Files, and I don’t watch Supernatural or Twilight. I was just along for the ride, if I’m honest.
At about midnight, as the party died down, and people passed out, and the discussion got lighter, I was invited by someone to speak to the Goddess one-on-one, in private.
Hell yes, I thought. Here’s a chance to break this story of an up and coming new talent in the wrestling world before she gets massive, the talent was undeniable after all, from what I’d seen in the ring, anyway. Here was a chance to become a staff writer for your magazine.
But I saw her turn my bottle of water into wine.
There were no words.
All actions.
She didn’t need to speak.
I sat there and felt loved, truly loved for the first time. She knew me, she knew everything I’d ever done, or would do, and I recognized how misled I’ve been by the materialism of this earth up till now.
It was then I knew I’d die for her. And I needed others to know her as I suddenly knew her.
So that’s why I’m resigning.
I’m running her official twitter feed now full time, while others clean and polish her belt, and will be spreading the message wherever she goes.
There is no want, among us, those who follow her. Our clothes and our food needs are met, somehow, inexplicably, each day.
And she moves with purpose and grace, day to day.
Soon, she moves on to her first title defense against Hannah Kristiansen.
And wherever she goes,
I will follow.
please accept my resignation effective immediately.
My name’s Josh Temple, and up until recently I wrote a weekly amateur “special to” freelance column for your website, Wrestle Press.
I was one of the few of your freelancers going to newer federations, and while I’ll always be an advocate for supporting new federations, and new talent, I’ll always appreciate the valued reporting your website does for the wrestling community at large, and value the quality articles covering the bigger federations.
I don’t blame people for not taking notice of Wild Wrestling Unleashed at first. After all, it just had its pilot episode, the talent there is still unestablished, and it is, as such, an unproven commodity. I wouldn’t even have known to attend WWU’s first event at the Wildhouse at Knots Berry Farm in California, had I myself not been invited by email from a friend from college.
The show was first rate, and I’m not really upset you chose not to run my review. I get it. It wasn’t the best review I’ve ever written, I was a bit distracted, and, frankly, there aren’t as many hits to collect from a fledgling organization as there are for the biggies, and that’s not why I’m resigning.
I’m resigning because I’ve discovered that what I previously thought was my purpose on earth has been a sham.
You’re wasting your time covering anything other than the Goddess in control of the Heavens and the Earth who has chosen to bless the Wildhouse with her presence.
You’re skeptical. I was skeptical.
I was skeptical after the show, too. I was skeptical in spite of seeing her in action, winning a match she had every possible reason to lose considering the competition she faced, from the overwhelming offense of an entire stable of competitors called the Zaibatsu, to an intergalactic space traveler with super powers called the Space Lord, to that one MMA guy I recommended no one sleep on but they did anyway, Jaguar. WWU has so many good reasons to tune in, and so many worthy competitors for their title belt.
I wasn’t convinced about the hype surrounding this “Goddess” at first. MY friend had sent me what amounted to a seemingly rambling account of his first encounter with her on a beach, and how she’d, implausibly healed his broken leg and wandered off as aimlessly as she’d wandered into his life.
After the show, as he and a collection of her followers stood in wait backstage for the new Epic Champion I asked him how he knew she was a real Goddess, and not just hanging on to some wrestling gimmick.
I mean, come on… this is pro wrestling.
All of these characters are just gimmicks, right?
Abattage isn’t a real monster, Gabbi the Caramel Goddess isn’t REALLY in porn films, and Harry Hanson just pretends to be a drooling mass of testosterone-laden perversion... Right?
My friend isn’t the gullible type, either, before you ask. He was the one who brought me to one of my first indie wrestling shows, took me back stage, took me to party with his friend who was a wrestler. He knows the difference between a gimmick and reality.
I asked him backstage how he knew this, Maxx, was a real goddess, and his expression changed serious, wide-eyed and faith-filled as he responded without self-effacement, “seeing is believing, brother.”
So, at first glance, yeah, no she is a glorious specimen of physical fitness. I could see it outright. It was an unmistakably noticeable fact which stood out from thirty seats back in the nosebleeds during the mess of a match that ran through the Pilot episode.
I tagged along with her entourage as she left. I smirked as her followers begged her to hold her newly won title for her. She never said a word in those first moments. There was, admittedly, an unnerving, almost otherworldly calm about her in spite having exerted herself in a spectacular match from the beginning to the end. The more time I spent among her and her followers, the more I wanted to understand this certain belief they all held about her, that she wasn’t just some supremely talented wrestler who’d arrived out of nowhere to pick up a title win it what seemed like her first wrestling match ever, but that she was, in fact, a deity walking among them incarnated into flesh.
I took the chance and as we made it to one of her follower’s homes, (they’d argued and fought over the chance to room the Goddess for hours before proximity won the fight,) I asked her where she received her training, where she’d wrestled before WWU.
She only smiled. It was a calm, serene, distinctly unnerving smile, and all she would answer with was, “all will be revealed at the appointed time. Come. Follow me.”
And I did.
They threw a house party that night, but the woman of the night didn’t seem interested in taking part. She vanished and I mingled among the faithful who all had similar stories to my friend about encountering this woman who seemed to radiate an aura of peaceful serenity that filled everyone in her presence, and that she’d worked miracles.
I asked them if she’d told them she was a goddess, and they’d just taken to heart the act.
“She doesn’t need to say it. I just know it. In my heart I know it. That’s where she speaks to me.” It was like a broken record after a while, and I was getting on some of their nerves.
I’ve spent time in churches before. It’s like a cult. I was an invader setting out to expose their god as a fraud, so there was bound to be pushback. Polite pushback. I discussed at length in the living room with my friend and a collection of the “deity’s” followers how they could be so sure, how it wasn’t just an act they were putting on, all of it.
I don’t believe in ghosts, or aliens, or the bigfoot, or the Loch Ness monster. I hated the X-Files, and I don’t watch Supernatural or Twilight. I was just along for the ride, if I’m honest.
At about midnight, as the party died down, and people passed out, and the discussion got lighter, I was invited by someone to speak to the Goddess one-on-one, in private.
Hell yes, I thought. Here’s a chance to break this story of an up and coming new talent in the wrestling world before she gets massive, the talent was undeniable after all, from what I’d seen in the ring, anyway. Here was a chance to become a staff writer for your magazine.
But I saw her turn my bottle of water into wine.
There were no words.
All actions.
She didn’t need to speak.
I sat there and felt loved, truly loved for the first time. She knew me, she knew everything I’d ever done, or would do, and I recognized how misled I’ve been by the materialism of this earth up till now.
It was then I knew I’d die for her. And I needed others to know her as I suddenly knew her.
So that’s why I’m resigning.
I’m running her official twitter feed now full time, while others clean and polish her belt, and will be spreading the message wherever she goes.
There is no want, among us, those who follow her. Our clothes and our food needs are met, somehow, inexplicably, each day.
And she moves with purpose and grace, day to day.
Soon, she moves on to her first title defense against Hannah Kristiansen.
I feel no fear. For I walk in the presence of a Goddess on earth. My life has meaning now.
And the life I lived before has been erased.
And wherever she goes,
I will follow.