Post by Tomas Luger on Jan 9, 2010 16:42:42 GMT -5
Let’s be honest, I suck at this. I do. I’m not really all that gifted. I’m not the second coming of Iler, or Jade Diamond...hell, I’m not even the second coming of Scott Pandora. Speak of the devil, literally. ‘Ol Scotty P. is a legend. No, let me get that right. He’s a LEGEND. Just ask him. I’m one of many that can lay claim to the title “Beaten by a LEGEND”, I remember it well. We held hands, he looked deep into my eyes and the night, as I recall, ended in spooning. Okay, maybe I’m fuzzy on the exact details of our last match, point is, I lost, you won. Moving on. There’s an old adage, one that says, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”. I like that. It’s fitting. I clearly can’t beat The Epitome of Excrement, er, Excellence so why not join ‘em? I’ve been watching a lot of film on Scott Pandora recently. Not in ring footage, like you might expect. You can’t learn to wrestle from watching a guy like that. No, I’ve been watching his promos over and over and over. The dude has a way with a microphone. Might not be my way, or your way, but it’s a way. I’ve decided to adapt some of his philosophies into this here speakin’ piece ‘o mine. Let’s see,
Scott, how I do.
You start with something mundane, like sleeping, or standing in front of a window, or sitting down with one of the many TWD personalities. This is to show that you doesn’t need flash and window dressing, you’re a regular guy, that does regular things. Clever.
All you can see is the cover of a magazine, but oh what a cover. Juggs, only the biggest and best boobies. Pan back a little farther and you see the wide eyes and gaped mouth of one, Tomas Luger. Pan back even farther, and you can see the Champion of the Masses on the can taking a shit.
Now, you have to act really annoyed that this camera crew and director are bothering your daily routine. Nothing’s worse than having duty call when duty calls.
TL: Cripes! Can’t a guy get a little privacy, go wait in the other room, I’ll be out in a minute.
Fifteen minutes later.
Tomas Luger exits the bathroom, spraying Glade vigorously behind him. He walks over to the large window of the suite overlooking the city below.
Now, the trick is to pretend that the camera crew isn’t there at all, like you’re musing to yourself or you long lost invisible friend. This is to create the illusion that he’s speaking directly to you, whoever you are.
The first topic of conversation should be to address any past opponent or “old business”. If you’re berating an old foe, make sure you let him/her know that they are the absolute worst piece of shit you’ve ever seen in the ring. Make extra sure that you reaffirm yourself as the Epitome of Everything. If there was some sort of drama, make sure that the perpetrator understands that there will be no escaping your awsomeness. Let this scumbag know that they better run and hide and pray that he/she is not found by you, because if this perp gets caught up, watch out!
I don’t really have much old business, except a tragic crushing at the hands of the manimal, Jason Harnell. I’ll do what I can.
Oh! One last note. Make sure that your dialog comes in the form of a long, rambling, ranting, diatribe. Nothing sticks it to the bastard like a really long monologue.
TL: Jason, Jason, Jason. You may have won that last match up of ours, but rest assured that your one victory means nothing in the scope of things. Think big picture, J. What did you really accomplish? You beat me. I lost to you. That’s it. You don’t ascend the rankings of the TWD with this one win. You may be an old hand at this sport, but I’m a founding father of this federation. I may have made some allusions to the difference between us being fairly juvenile, but the truth of the matter is, the real difference between us, I’m established, and you’re not. Plain, simple, easy to remember. You may climb fast, but for now, you’re a nobody. Another veteran trying to re-establish himself. You may succeed, but your chances are fairly equal for failure. Meanwhile, I’m back and to no one’s surprise, stuck right back in the race to contend for titles, fame and fortune. That’s not a question, that not an assumption, it’s a guarantee. Face facts, Mr. Hartnell. You might not have any left in the tank come two months from now, and that small victory you got over me will be a distant memory when I’m the champion of this federation.
Now there has to be a break in the action. Something fairly innocuous to break up the action in lieu of a segue, because no one segues anymore. It’s a lost art.
Luger looks out the window some more, he wonders what the weather might be like in Indonesia, or Russia, or Pakistan. It’s certainly better than here.
After the break, it’s a real tasters choice. You could continue on for another twenty minutes about the same mindless dribble you were going on with, just to really beat a dead horse and super establish your point or you can move on to other topics. I’m gonna follow a nice lead and continue on with my current subject matter.
Again, long speech. You have to make sure that what you’re saying is sinking in, so it’s gotta be super in depth, but not really say much at all. Remember to make it like trash talk, without the trash.
TL: But I have to admit, Jason, that your path to the top seems solid. Running around backstage in a Santa hat, laughing it up with some of the regulars. The fans dig you, clearly. You’re like them. You like a good time. You like the holiday seasons. You like Santa hats. But let me ask you a question. Do you think this is a game, Jason? Let me answer that for you. No, it’s not a game. This is a job. Do you think terrorists wear Santa hats when they car bomb mosques? Do you think homicidal maniacs wear Santa hats when they’re hacking people to bits whilst they sleep? Do you think devil worshipers wear Santa hats when they eat babies and sacrifice goats and draw pentagrams? No, Jason, they don’t. They take their job seriously. They don’t dick around like you, they just go and get the job done. Now let me ask you something else. Do you think those childish tactics are going to carry you to the heavy weight championship? Do you honestly believe, in your heart of hearts, that masquerading around like an idiot, celebrating the season, and having a sense of humor are going to make you an elite class wrestler? Again, the answer is no, J. You’re little cutesy shit may work in the short term, but you are a far cry from greatness. You and greatness, not friends, Jason, not friends at all.
Again it’s time for another clumsy break in the action. It’s time to switch gears. Now we get to the meat and potatoes of this promo. The part where we talk about our current affairs. It’s time to get real with the person You’re going to be facing in the ring this week. You’ve gotta hit ‘em where they hurt too. The best trick is to use their own stuff against them. Watch their most recent video and dissect it a little. Watch the past Showdown and make a mockery of their effort and work.
There’s one more thing, it’s very important. No matter what, no matter if a hole opens up in the Earth and swallows us hole. No matter if frogs rain from the sky, locusts eat the crops and the moon turns red. No matter if strippers start handing out free blow jobs and lap dances, no matter what happens, you cannot have a sense of humor about anything. You have to be straight face, straight edge, and all business. Because remember this, if you remember nothing else-This is not a game. There is nothing fun about this shit. If you’re having fun, you’re a douche bag that should work at McDonald’s instead. Go fuck yourself if you think this is a laughing matter. You weird prick.
The reason behind this is to completely demoralize your future foe. You want them to doubt every fiber of their being. You want them to openly weep in front of their friends at the very notion of facing you in that ring. It’s a scare tactic, and a decent one.
Alright, break up, then back to the monologue.
Tomas scratches his balls and farts. It’s that kind of day, and that kind of mood.
TL: Now to this weeks opponent, Scott Pandora. You may be the Epitome of Everything, but you aren’t shit in my eyes. What do you really think your odds are at Showdown? I bet you give yourself five to one, ten to one. Vegas just called and it’s dead even, brother. There is no over under for you. Do you think I’m really gonna up and quit because you tell me to? You’re not my mother, you’re not my father, you’re not really a concern at all. You’re nothing. You may as well not exist. The fans wouldn’t mind if you simply ceased to be. I won’t lose any sleep if you disappear. I don’t think the moderators even realize you work in this federation. Do you still get paychecks? Does the payroll department know you’re still employed? I’ve got a suggestion for you, Scott. Just go away. Go away, and never look back. I’d like to tell you this federation would be a better place, but you’re barely a figure here, so it would really be business as usual with one less scrub wandering the halls and taking up valuable locker room space. So do us all a favor, and tuck tail.
Now it’s time for the last cut away in the dialog. This one doesn’t have to be any better or worse than the others, remember, it’s just because we have no idea how to have transition between topics. Remember, if you’re not very good at conversation, parlor tricks work just as well.
Tomas gazes distantly out the window. He yawns and smacks his lips, blinking groggily into the outside world.
After the break, it’s time to really hit ‘em. You’ve got to lay the boom down on your beleaguered quarry. Make them wish they were never born. Remember that you have to prattle on and on, to really make sure everyone understands just how serious you are in your dislike for your current match up. Remember, people, Quantity over quality everyday of the week. That’s the key. Pack as much as you can into these quotes. The more stuff you say, the more likely that whomever your facing will hear something that really upsets and/or terrifies them. Also, we’re nearing then end of the promo, so this is your last real chance to get out any last minute things you think they need to know. The only opinion that matters is yours. Period.
TL: Here’s the problem I have with you, Scott. It’s not so much that you’re a terrible wrestler, and it’s not really that you’re an awful person, it’s just that you’re not particularly important to this federation. You like to claim that you’re the only reason the doors stay open around here, but that’s the farthest thing from the truth and everyone knows it. Why do you, honestly, think that the moderators don’t consider you for title contention? It couldn’t be because, you as Champion equals no one cares. Clearly the fans don’t pack in by the droves just to see you, and I know the feeling is mutual, as you’ve made it clear that you’re not in it for the fans. You’re one, and only, claim to fame is that you came and beat up a bunch of guys with a glass bat. Ooooo, scary. No one knew who it was, and then the big reveal. OMFG! IT WAS SPARROW (Now known as Scott Pandora, because that one of a hundred personalities is dead)!!!!!! Then what happened, Scott? What happened after that big reveal? No one cared. You faded into obscurity. Then you tried again to gain relevance by aligning yourself with Kingpin. How’d that go? Good? Then you faded into obscurity. So let’s add up the score-Bunch of attempts to be awesome plus one see through (literally) gimmick equals NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT SCOTT PANDORA!!!! And I’m the one that should quit. Have you considered, in your infinite wisdom, that the mods aren’t booking you down? You bitch about the talent level you’re matched up against, but have you ever thought, maybe, just maybe, you’re actual talent isn’t living up to the image you’ve built up in your head? Have you ever considered the possibility that we’re all being booked down to you? Seriously, which makes more sense A) You, and only you, are being picked on by the powers that be, for unknown reasons, and being forced to wrestle match after match against undercard talent, when you’re clearly the superior entity in this fed; or B) The match makers are booking solid, up and coming talent against the name value of Scott Pandora and that you are never, ever, going to get a title shot because you don’t have the gas left to be the champion. I’ll give you a minute, mull it over.
Now for the ultimatum style ending.
TL: Well, come Showdown it’ll be alright. Don’t worry, I’m sure the whole world will see just how truthful your allegations are. When we match up one on one, I’m sure you’ll pull another big reveal and show the whole world that you’re the best there ever was, is or will be, by....losing to me? Take a cue from my playbook, and give up. I’ll show you what I mean at Showdown. Come the tenth, I’ll let you pull back the curtain once more and let you show the whole world just how pointless you really are.
And there it is! Viola! I’ve turned hours upon hours of study into a solid promo that even Sparr..er..Scott Pandora could be proud of. So, let me thank you, Mr. Pandora, for giving me a blueprint for success. Without your hard work, I couldn’t reap these kinds of benefits. Of course then again, with all the imaginary success you’ve had recently, maybe I shouldn’t be ripping your style. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe I wanted to know what it’s like to be a delusional nut job. After watching you work, I’ve realized that your promos are just narcissistic masturbation. And only you, Scotty, can make me balk at masturbation.
Scott, how I do.
You start with something mundane, like sleeping, or standing in front of a window, or sitting down with one of the many TWD personalities. This is to show that you doesn’t need flash and window dressing, you’re a regular guy, that does regular things. Clever.
All you can see is the cover of a magazine, but oh what a cover. Juggs, only the biggest and best boobies. Pan back a little farther and you see the wide eyes and gaped mouth of one, Tomas Luger. Pan back even farther, and you can see the Champion of the Masses on the can taking a shit.
Now, you have to act really annoyed that this camera crew and director are bothering your daily routine. Nothing’s worse than having duty call when duty calls.
TL: Cripes! Can’t a guy get a little privacy, go wait in the other room, I’ll be out in a minute.
Fifteen minutes later.
Tomas Luger exits the bathroom, spraying Glade vigorously behind him. He walks over to the large window of the suite overlooking the city below.
Now, the trick is to pretend that the camera crew isn’t there at all, like you’re musing to yourself or you long lost invisible friend. This is to create the illusion that he’s speaking directly to you, whoever you are.
The first topic of conversation should be to address any past opponent or “old business”. If you’re berating an old foe, make sure you let him/her know that they are the absolute worst piece of shit you’ve ever seen in the ring. Make extra sure that you reaffirm yourself as the Epitome of Everything. If there was some sort of drama, make sure that the perpetrator understands that there will be no escaping your awsomeness. Let this scumbag know that they better run and hide and pray that he/she is not found by you, because if this perp gets caught up, watch out!
I don’t really have much old business, except a tragic crushing at the hands of the manimal, Jason Harnell. I’ll do what I can.
Oh! One last note. Make sure that your dialog comes in the form of a long, rambling, ranting, diatribe. Nothing sticks it to the bastard like a really long monologue.
TL: Jason, Jason, Jason. You may have won that last match up of ours, but rest assured that your one victory means nothing in the scope of things. Think big picture, J. What did you really accomplish? You beat me. I lost to you. That’s it. You don’t ascend the rankings of the TWD with this one win. You may be an old hand at this sport, but I’m a founding father of this federation. I may have made some allusions to the difference between us being fairly juvenile, but the truth of the matter is, the real difference between us, I’m established, and you’re not. Plain, simple, easy to remember. You may climb fast, but for now, you’re a nobody. Another veteran trying to re-establish himself. You may succeed, but your chances are fairly equal for failure. Meanwhile, I’m back and to no one’s surprise, stuck right back in the race to contend for titles, fame and fortune. That’s not a question, that not an assumption, it’s a guarantee. Face facts, Mr. Hartnell. You might not have any left in the tank come two months from now, and that small victory you got over me will be a distant memory when I’m the champion of this federation.
Now there has to be a break in the action. Something fairly innocuous to break up the action in lieu of a segue, because no one segues anymore. It’s a lost art.
Luger looks out the window some more, he wonders what the weather might be like in Indonesia, or Russia, or Pakistan. It’s certainly better than here.
After the break, it’s a real tasters choice. You could continue on for another twenty minutes about the same mindless dribble you were going on with, just to really beat a dead horse and super establish your point or you can move on to other topics. I’m gonna follow a nice lead and continue on with my current subject matter.
Again, long speech. You have to make sure that what you’re saying is sinking in, so it’s gotta be super in depth, but not really say much at all. Remember to make it like trash talk, without the trash.
TL: But I have to admit, Jason, that your path to the top seems solid. Running around backstage in a Santa hat, laughing it up with some of the regulars. The fans dig you, clearly. You’re like them. You like a good time. You like the holiday seasons. You like Santa hats. But let me ask you a question. Do you think this is a game, Jason? Let me answer that for you. No, it’s not a game. This is a job. Do you think terrorists wear Santa hats when they car bomb mosques? Do you think homicidal maniacs wear Santa hats when they’re hacking people to bits whilst they sleep? Do you think devil worshipers wear Santa hats when they eat babies and sacrifice goats and draw pentagrams? No, Jason, they don’t. They take their job seriously. They don’t dick around like you, they just go and get the job done. Now let me ask you something else. Do you think those childish tactics are going to carry you to the heavy weight championship? Do you honestly believe, in your heart of hearts, that masquerading around like an idiot, celebrating the season, and having a sense of humor are going to make you an elite class wrestler? Again, the answer is no, J. You’re little cutesy shit may work in the short term, but you are a far cry from greatness. You and greatness, not friends, Jason, not friends at all.
Again it’s time for another clumsy break in the action. It’s time to switch gears. Now we get to the meat and potatoes of this promo. The part where we talk about our current affairs. It’s time to get real with the person You’re going to be facing in the ring this week. You’ve gotta hit ‘em where they hurt too. The best trick is to use their own stuff against them. Watch their most recent video and dissect it a little. Watch the past Showdown and make a mockery of their effort and work.
There’s one more thing, it’s very important. No matter what, no matter if a hole opens up in the Earth and swallows us hole. No matter if frogs rain from the sky, locusts eat the crops and the moon turns red. No matter if strippers start handing out free blow jobs and lap dances, no matter what happens, you cannot have a sense of humor about anything. You have to be straight face, straight edge, and all business. Because remember this, if you remember nothing else-This is not a game. There is nothing fun about this shit. If you’re having fun, you’re a douche bag that should work at McDonald’s instead. Go fuck yourself if you think this is a laughing matter. You weird prick.
The reason behind this is to completely demoralize your future foe. You want them to doubt every fiber of their being. You want them to openly weep in front of their friends at the very notion of facing you in that ring. It’s a scare tactic, and a decent one.
Alright, break up, then back to the monologue.
Tomas scratches his balls and farts. It’s that kind of day, and that kind of mood.
TL: Now to this weeks opponent, Scott Pandora. You may be the Epitome of Everything, but you aren’t shit in my eyes. What do you really think your odds are at Showdown? I bet you give yourself five to one, ten to one. Vegas just called and it’s dead even, brother. There is no over under for you. Do you think I’m really gonna up and quit because you tell me to? You’re not my mother, you’re not my father, you’re not really a concern at all. You’re nothing. You may as well not exist. The fans wouldn’t mind if you simply ceased to be. I won’t lose any sleep if you disappear. I don’t think the moderators even realize you work in this federation. Do you still get paychecks? Does the payroll department know you’re still employed? I’ve got a suggestion for you, Scott. Just go away. Go away, and never look back. I’d like to tell you this federation would be a better place, but you’re barely a figure here, so it would really be business as usual with one less scrub wandering the halls and taking up valuable locker room space. So do us all a favor, and tuck tail.
Now it’s time for the last cut away in the dialog. This one doesn’t have to be any better or worse than the others, remember, it’s just because we have no idea how to have transition between topics. Remember, if you’re not very good at conversation, parlor tricks work just as well.
Tomas gazes distantly out the window. He yawns and smacks his lips, blinking groggily into the outside world.
After the break, it’s time to really hit ‘em. You’ve got to lay the boom down on your beleaguered quarry. Make them wish they were never born. Remember that you have to prattle on and on, to really make sure everyone understands just how serious you are in your dislike for your current match up. Remember, people, Quantity over quality everyday of the week. That’s the key. Pack as much as you can into these quotes. The more stuff you say, the more likely that whomever your facing will hear something that really upsets and/or terrifies them. Also, we’re nearing then end of the promo, so this is your last real chance to get out any last minute things you think they need to know. The only opinion that matters is yours. Period.
TL: Here’s the problem I have with you, Scott. It’s not so much that you’re a terrible wrestler, and it’s not really that you’re an awful person, it’s just that you’re not particularly important to this federation. You like to claim that you’re the only reason the doors stay open around here, but that’s the farthest thing from the truth and everyone knows it. Why do you, honestly, think that the moderators don’t consider you for title contention? It couldn’t be because, you as Champion equals no one cares. Clearly the fans don’t pack in by the droves just to see you, and I know the feeling is mutual, as you’ve made it clear that you’re not in it for the fans. You’re one, and only, claim to fame is that you came and beat up a bunch of guys with a glass bat. Ooooo, scary. No one knew who it was, and then the big reveal. OMFG! IT WAS SPARROW (Now known as Scott Pandora, because that one of a hundred personalities is dead)!!!!!! Then what happened, Scott? What happened after that big reveal? No one cared. You faded into obscurity. Then you tried again to gain relevance by aligning yourself with Kingpin. How’d that go? Good? Then you faded into obscurity. So let’s add up the score-Bunch of attempts to be awesome plus one see through (literally) gimmick equals NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT SCOTT PANDORA!!!! And I’m the one that should quit. Have you considered, in your infinite wisdom, that the mods aren’t booking you down? You bitch about the talent level you’re matched up against, but have you ever thought, maybe, just maybe, you’re actual talent isn’t living up to the image you’ve built up in your head? Have you ever considered the possibility that we’re all being booked down to you? Seriously, which makes more sense A) You, and only you, are being picked on by the powers that be, for unknown reasons, and being forced to wrestle match after match against undercard talent, when you’re clearly the superior entity in this fed; or B) The match makers are booking solid, up and coming talent against the name value of Scott Pandora and that you are never, ever, going to get a title shot because you don’t have the gas left to be the champion. I’ll give you a minute, mull it over.
Now for the ultimatum style ending.
TL: Well, come Showdown it’ll be alright. Don’t worry, I’m sure the whole world will see just how truthful your allegations are. When we match up one on one, I’m sure you’ll pull another big reveal and show the whole world that you’re the best there ever was, is or will be, by....losing to me? Take a cue from my playbook, and give up. I’ll show you what I mean at Showdown. Come the tenth, I’ll let you pull back the curtain once more and let you show the whole world just how pointless you really are.
And there it is! Viola! I’ve turned hours upon hours of study into a solid promo that even Sparr..er..Scott Pandora could be proud of. So, let me thank you, Mr. Pandora, for giving me a blueprint for success. Without your hard work, I couldn’t reap these kinds of benefits. Of course then again, with all the imaginary success you’ve had recently, maybe I shouldn’t be ripping your style. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe I wanted to know what it’s like to be a delusional nut job. After watching you work, I’ve realized that your promos are just narcissistic masturbation. And only you, Scotty, can make me balk at masturbation.