Post by Marcus T on Oct 12, 2009 2:07:22 GMT -5
-----The Definition of World Champion---
The world champion... Champion of the world. Beholder of people hearts. The leader, the provider, the standard.
What does it takes to be a world champion? It will cost you more than you know. It will cost you more wrestling moves than most can perform. It will cost you more time in a yea.
The definition of a World’s Champion does not include you talking loud and saying nothing. A champion moves so loud his voice becomes quiet. So much so you would think he was a mute and is using body languages to communicate with the world.
The name may glow in bold lights. His aurora may make him glow. Once you step into the square circle and the bell rings, he will become your darkest moment.
No matter how many interviews you can cut dogging him out, he will still dog you out.
The world champion is the before, never the after.
When beaten so much, he still take a stand until he no longer has a pulse. Some call it the heart of a champion. To understand how that heart beats you must have once proven that your world title run was at a great effort.
Marcus T fulfill every single aspect of what a world champion is suppose to act like.
Marcus T fulfills every single aspect of what a world champion should look like.
Marcus T fulfills every aspect of how to work as a world champion.
You may have gotten his attention in the past. He may name drop you in a promo. You might have been on the wrong end of a sneak attack. All that does not mean you are world title worthy. It just means you had moment to think that you where.
Moderators this is what you fail to understand. You are just money bags to me. No matter how much you act out on tv. No matter what you say, you will never get any thing done with out the world’s champion.
The World champion is the one who drives in the most people. When his cup is full it spills over into others cup in order for them to wet their whistle. I am the provider, the producer, and the laborer. You three are just a bunch of managers, making sure all sides are on one page.
If the world champion breaks the rules, so will the mid to low carders.
When some one step out of line, you word only becomes law when I deliver it to the locker rooms. You don’t directly take actions in your own hands, you talk to the locker room leaders and make sure they understand what you need out of those who sheeply follow them.
You three arrogant morons just fail to understand, you are easily replaced. Just as Kersh, just as Martin. No body cares about you, just make sure the stocks don’t fall and properly manage the money, make sure the show meet rating specs.
If the wrestlers leave you are left with NOTHING! This same crop could go SIN and get the same results. Want to pressure that? I doubt it!
Now get some marination on that.
-------------------------------------------Parting Shots------------------------
(She sits on my couch wondering what is her next move. Her dad has laid down the gauntlet. She is trying to make the decision. The preverbal fork in the road now lies ahead of her. I sit behind her, on top of the couch arm, chewing gum. I care, I really do. That is why I will take a step back. Let her make this decision on her own. Now is the best time for her to make this decision, sooner or later we would come to these cross roads. Crying is only part of this process, it does not make any thing any harder or any easier, it just the pain of having your heart broken showing on the surface.)
BBMT: You know you don’t have to do this.
Amanda: Marcus cut it out. I hate when you talk in riddles.
BBMT: Your dad is making you choose between two things you love more than anything in this world try to find away to walk in the middle.
Amanda: I don’t know Marcus.
(I roll my eyes. I tried to be the nice guy once more. Now I will have to act a fool. I have let this go on far to long. The people sticking their noise in my business as if it is there’s to tend in the first place. How distasteful.)
BBMT: Well... This is what happen when you let people into this house. All your chicken headed friends telling you I am no good. Telling us we should get married so you can walk off with half. Your pops don’t know a thing that goes on over here. It is all good over here. We are people, yet everyone else who are not us want to see us fall.
Amanda: I know.
BBMT: Like hell you do. Here let me help you with your decision. If your love run as deep for me as you acting as, then this should not be a problem. You should stand up for your man and tell everyone to back the hell up. If you can’t do that, if you can’t stand up for me rather I am in right or wrong, then what the hell are you doing here?
(Here face expression shows a sign of shock.)
Amanda: What are you trying to say.
BBMT: Two words.... GET OUT!
(Scene fades blue.)
-----------Paradise Lost.---------
You show up to my island. Looking for a sign of relief. Your clothing torn. You looked like you needed a good bed to sleep in, a nice hot meal to place in your belly. I let you get all of that. I let you bask in the sun light, skinny dip with the honeys who made sure you where doing “ok.” At night you foamed at the mouth at the hula girls shaking their perfect made belly’s around a open fire made in the sand, all right before you virgin eyes. You swam with the Dolphins and laughed all day.
That was a great two week vacation, right? It was nice of me to care for you for those two weeks, wasn’t it Colt? You could not ask for anything better.
Ok now that you have soaked in that reality that I GAVE YOU! It is time for you to go back to your cell and bask in the pale moon light. It is time for you to go skinny dipping with the deepest darkest parts of your mind. That ship wreck of a career still sitting in the same spot you once left. As long as you have Saber as your anchor expect to go no where fast, why do you think I ditched him off to “Cheeks?”
Now the devil dances on your soul before your virgin eyes.
For the past four months I had to sit back and watch every one crawl to the top. All of them fail to live up to the hype. So instead of waiting on my number one contender I went down and got the second, third, forth and so on and so on. Next in line to climb up is you Colt. You nearly lost your grip on the mud that was created by the shit storms last night. Before you could fall back down I grab you by the wrist with one hand. You look up at the god that I am, the sun is shines bright behind me and my shades reflect the look on your face and you notice the disappointing site that I see. I raise you up and never allow your feet to greet the canvas that I stand on. You did not clean your feet on the welcome mat, so I can’t allow you to walk around at the top with dirty feet.
I take a good, hard, long look at you and toss you back down to the root of the trees that hides the base of my mountain. The cloud now cover up what you once got a glimpse of. Now reality set into your empty soul and you notice that once more you must climb up the hill once more.
This is what I now call hamburger hill and human flesh with asses for buns make up the meal. I promise there is more where that comes from.
BBMT:
Forget the Credentials.
Yours don’t count!
The world champion... Champion of the world. Beholder of people hearts. The leader, the provider, the standard.
What does it takes to be a world champion? It will cost you more than you know. It will cost you more wrestling moves than most can perform. It will cost you more time in a yea.
The definition of a World’s Champion does not include you talking loud and saying nothing. A champion moves so loud his voice becomes quiet. So much so you would think he was a mute and is using body languages to communicate with the world.
The name may glow in bold lights. His aurora may make him glow. Once you step into the square circle and the bell rings, he will become your darkest moment.
No matter how many interviews you can cut dogging him out, he will still dog you out.
The world champion is the before, never the after.
When beaten so much, he still take a stand until he no longer has a pulse. Some call it the heart of a champion. To understand how that heart beats you must have once proven that your world title run was at a great effort.
Marcus T fulfill every single aspect of what a world champion is suppose to act like.
Marcus T fulfills every single aspect of what a world champion should look like.
Marcus T fulfills every aspect of how to work as a world champion.
You may have gotten his attention in the past. He may name drop you in a promo. You might have been on the wrong end of a sneak attack. All that does not mean you are world title worthy. It just means you had moment to think that you where.
Moderators this is what you fail to understand. You are just money bags to me. No matter how much you act out on tv. No matter what you say, you will never get any thing done with out the world’s champion.
The World champion is the one who drives in the most people. When his cup is full it spills over into others cup in order for them to wet their whistle. I am the provider, the producer, and the laborer. You three are just a bunch of managers, making sure all sides are on one page.
If the world champion breaks the rules, so will the mid to low carders.
When some one step out of line, you word only becomes law when I deliver it to the locker rooms. You don’t directly take actions in your own hands, you talk to the locker room leaders and make sure they understand what you need out of those who sheeply follow them.
You three arrogant morons just fail to understand, you are easily replaced. Just as Kersh, just as Martin. No body cares about you, just make sure the stocks don’t fall and properly manage the money, make sure the show meet rating specs.
If the wrestlers leave you are left with NOTHING! This same crop could go SIN and get the same results. Want to pressure that? I doubt it!
Now get some marination on that.
-------------------------------------------Parting Shots------------------------
(She sits on my couch wondering what is her next move. Her dad has laid down the gauntlet. She is trying to make the decision. The preverbal fork in the road now lies ahead of her. I sit behind her, on top of the couch arm, chewing gum. I care, I really do. That is why I will take a step back. Let her make this decision on her own. Now is the best time for her to make this decision, sooner or later we would come to these cross roads. Crying is only part of this process, it does not make any thing any harder or any easier, it just the pain of having your heart broken showing on the surface.)
BBMT: You know you don’t have to do this.
Amanda: Marcus cut it out. I hate when you talk in riddles.
BBMT: Your dad is making you choose between two things you love more than anything in this world try to find away to walk in the middle.
Amanda: I don’t know Marcus.
(I roll my eyes. I tried to be the nice guy once more. Now I will have to act a fool. I have let this go on far to long. The people sticking their noise in my business as if it is there’s to tend in the first place. How distasteful.)
BBMT: Well... This is what happen when you let people into this house. All your chicken headed friends telling you I am no good. Telling us we should get married so you can walk off with half. Your pops don’t know a thing that goes on over here. It is all good over here. We are people, yet everyone else who are not us want to see us fall.
Amanda: I know.
BBMT: Like hell you do. Here let me help you with your decision. If your love run as deep for me as you acting as, then this should not be a problem. You should stand up for your man and tell everyone to back the hell up. If you can’t do that, if you can’t stand up for me rather I am in right or wrong, then what the hell are you doing here?
(Here face expression shows a sign of shock.)
Amanda: What are you trying to say.
BBMT: Two words.... GET OUT!
(Scene fades blue.)
-----------Paradise Lost.---------
You show up to my island. Looking for a sign of relief. Your clothing torn. You looked like you needed a good bed to sleep in, a nice hot meal to place in your belly. I let you get all of that. I let you bask in the sun light, skinny dip with the honeys who made sure you where doing “ok.” At night you foamed at the mouth at the hula girls shaking their perfect made belly’s around a open fire made in the sand, all right before you virgin eyes. You swam with the Dolphins and laughed all day.
That was a great two week vacation, right? It was nice of me to care for you for those two weeks, wasn’t it Colt? You could not ask for anything better.
Ok now that you have soaked in that reality that I GAVE YOU! It is time for you to go back to your cell and bask in the pale moon light. It is time for you to go skinny dipping with the deepest darkest parts of your mind. That ship wreck of a career still sitting in the same spot you once left. As long as you have Saber as your anchor expect to go no where fast, why do you think I ditched him off to “Cheeks?”
Now the devil dances on your soul before your virgin eyes.
For the past four months I had to sit back and watch every one crawl to the top. All of them fail to live up to the hype. So instead of waiting on my number one contender I went down and got the second, third, forth and so on and so on. Next in line to climb up is you Colt. You nearly lost your grip on the mud that was created by the shit storms last night. Before you could fall back down I grab you by the wrist with one hand. You look up at the god that I am, the sun is shines bright behind me and my shades reflect the look on your face and you notice the disappointing site that I see. I raise you up and never allow your feet to greet the canvas that I stand on. You did not clean your feet on the welcome mat, so I can’t allow you to walk around at the top with dirty feet.
I take a good, hard, long look at you and toss you back down to the root of the trees that hides the base of my mountain. The cloud now cover up what you once got a glimpse of. Now reality set into your empty soul and you notice that once more you must climb up the hill once more.
This is what I now call hamburger hill and human flesh with asses for buns make up the meal. I promise there is more where that comes from.
BBMT:
Forget the Credentials.
Yours don’t count!