The Amazing Rando

Michaels picks up the screwjob and gives it a teardrop suplex 8 years later...AND IT STILL DOESN'T STAY DOWN! KIP UP BY THE SCREWJOB!

I love the "HBK is God" sign FRONT ROW.

He'll do the Cabana with the Diva Search winner or some other stupid nonsense...then spit in her face.

I want Kurt Angle beaten VICIOUSLY to open the show (like, cut to the back during the opening match/interview) and have him screaming "EUGENE! YOU (BEEP)!" while Eugene is nowhere in sight. They spend the rest of the night looking for him, finally finding him just before the ME. He pleads innocence and Bisch tells him to go home. The Handicap Match Happens... Just when you think they are going to black, backstage...all you can see are the feet of Eugene slowly plodding away down the hall...when they suddenly turn to a perfect stride. Pull up, Eugene pulls his wild hair back and slicks it over, then throws his jacket to the wind as he jumps into a car being driven by Christy (now wearing something a lil more devilish than a cheerleader outfit) and the two drive off after a few words and a cigarette for Mr. Dinsmore. Yeah, I want to see some Usual Fucking Suspects breakdown and have Mr. Olympic Champion vs. Mr. Wrestling at Summerslam, with Dinsmore coming out early in the PPV and explaining himself. Or, coming out on Heat. Whatever.

Street Fights. Especially if the usage of the street or heavy use of backstage leads to something big, yet unexpected, and isn't just a "hey, let's go back here for a while and hit each other" scenario. Although, I don't like street fights where you have to make the pin in the ring. Although, KOTR 01 was a good one because they played up the exhaustion of Kurt having to pull/wheel Shane back to the ring, both men totally drained of energy. For the most part though, let them beat each other up and tell a good story with it (Yes, it is actually possible)

and fuck... any and all of my characters (i had two or three) apparently no longer exist. Well shit.

My old character(s) should still be around on there, so I'll look them up later tonight.

I just saw a Summerslam commercial on Nickelodeon pushing Hassan vs. Batista as the main event. ...I marked out.

"Do we listen to pop music because we are miserable, or are we miserable because we listen to pop music?" - High Fidelity

"Mad World" or "Killing Moon" from Donnie Darko "Don't You Forget About Me" from The Breakfast Club

If we wish to contribute, do our topics need to be wrestling related?

i also believe, at least in commercial radio, that audio clips of up to seven seconds can be used without fear of being sued. So that opens up the field for using things like Vince's "YOU"RE FRIED" and Austin's "What?" and other such things, if need be.

Ground Zero….Las Vegas….. Marcus Ward lifts Nick Blum off the canvas and carries him toward a large orange ladder, opened up in the middle of the ring…. "Oh my...what is he planning. He's intertwining Nick Blum in the ladder, his legs are scisorred between the one rail, the other rail is between his head and arm, his back is twisted and resting on one of the steel rungs. What is his plan?!" the words of the Longdogger echo as the audience stares down in horror and fascination. Marcus Ward signals one more time before turning and gripping Nick "The Hitlist" Blum in Total Control. A Human Torture Rack, intertwined in a ladder, all the pressure being forced on a steel ladder. ….on a steel ladder… "That's a twisted and brutal way try and force this submission...though it certainly is deserving of the Hardcore title..." observes Longdogger Pete. …twisted and brutal… Riley roars, "There's no escape for BLUM! He's all wrapped in the ladder so has no leverage, and Ward isn't going to get tired because he isn't supporting any weight, just racking him on the ladder. It's the human ladder rack!!!!" …no escape… Blum screams and screams, clutching for something his body twisting and slamming and grinding on the unforgiving steel of the ladder. Ward tightens his grips on the head and legs, wringing the submission right out of Blum, who quickly shouts to the ref that he's had enough. …had enough… DING! DING! DING! Hateful boos erupt and grow only louder as Marcus Ward is handed his newly won title. Ward simply taps his head with forefinger and then swiftly kicks over the ladder that has Nick Blum intertwined in it, ignoring the officials attempting to untangle his battered body. ………. The images from Ground Zero fade away on the image of Marcus Ward…Hardcore Champion…before changing to a lone set of eyes, closed. Suddenly, they snap open and turn to slits of rage as the camera zooms out to show them belonging to none other than Devon Walters. The brothers are somewhere between the Nation’s Capital and the City of Brotherly Love. How quaint. Sitting next to him, his brother stares at the concrete, his voice low… “I know. I know.” Matthew raises up his head, running his hand through his hair as his eyes glue themselves to the lens in front of him. “Mr. Blum, rest assured that what is about to happen isn’t about you. Oh no. We saw your body crash into the canvas, wrapped and warped in steel. We saw you scream as you gave up your chance to become a champion. Was it worth it, Mr. Blum? Was it worth the pain, the suffering…was it worth all of that…to still be a loser? …Sorry about my attitude, but it just doesn’t seem worth it. Not for that. Your career could have been ended in an instant because of what Mr. Ward did to you. Sadly, though you knew that the consequences of your actions could lead to your own downfall, you went ahead anyway…for a chance at glory. You put it all on the line to be called a champion…. …and you failed miserably.” Matthew rubs his hands together and squints as the sunlight momentarily strikes his eyes. “You failed, Mr. Blum. But you only failed in victory…Mr. Ward, although victorious, failed on so many levels that I was left with a sick taste in my mouth. You nearly break a man’s knee…and then another man’s neck and back. For what? Total Control? What, exactly, do you have control of, Mr. Ward? You have control of a small leather belt with gold plates on it. Wow. Color me impressed.” Matthew’s dry sarcasm draws a small smile from his brother, “But what else? Are you in control of your transportation? You could be driving, sure, but one nail in the road, one stupid animal…and………..it’s over. Are you in control of the government that tells you what is right and what is wrong? Are you in control of the businesses that could buy and sell you in an instant? Or maybe it’s more cryptic than that…maybe he’s in control of his destiny! That’s it!” Matthew raises his finger in mock eureka, “Maybe he’s in control of his destiny!” Devon nods, agreeing, but Matthew's tone quickly changes. “I don’t think so, Mr. Ward. If you were in control of your destiny, then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be standing across the ring from my brother in just a few days. Maybe, just maybe, if you were in control of your destiny….total control….you would see that once you reach the top, there is no place to go but down. …Think about that. Look into the mirror tonight…look into that shiny championship belt…and ask yourself what you are in control of…chances are, it’s going to be far less than you think. Chances are, you are going to be very disappointed, and even more so when you find yourself carrying more than that championship belt on your shoulder. And as it lays across your shoulders, it won’t be screaming and screaming, twisted and wrapped around a ladder in total control…no no…Mr. Ward…it will be in control of you.” Matthew almost laughs to himself as the camera zooms in on the older Walters brother’s face. “And whether you like it or not….that is karma.”

Remember what I said on Storm (the second promo) .... Yeah, expect a board promo sometime tonight.

It’s been a long few days between Madison Square Garden and the Hershey Park Arena, but the Walters’ brothers got there, and early. They sit alone outside the closed up amusement park, staring past the gates at the chocolate wonderland as security rides past, checking them out along with a hapless SWF cameraman, whose wobbly motions behind the lens seem to indicate his disapproval of being called out for duty so late. “Who told you?” Matthew asks the cameraman, whose inaudible respond leaves Matthew sighing to himself and shaking his head. “They always have to be watching us, don’t they? What is the point…” Next to him, Devon lays across a bench, his long legs hanging off the edge as he looks to be trying to sleep. Matthew pulls a small piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it, taking a moment to read through it in the parking lot light before turning back to the camera. “It seems they decided my brother would be facing….Martin Hunt? I am not very familiar with this guy, and apparently neither is my brother. We talked about this on our way down through Pennsylvania and neither of us are too sure exactly what we will be doing Wednesday night.” Matthew crumples the paper up and tosses it toward a garbage can, almost missing. Devon stirs and rolls over, his back now facing the camera, apparently trying to sleep. “Why does my brother have to fight this guy? Give me some good reasons! What did he ever do to us? Do they think it’ll be entertaining? Is that it? Do they think it’ll be fun to watch two people mindlessly attack each other, all for the thrill of victory? Well let me say this…there is no thrill in victory. This camera right now can look into my eyes and the eyes of my brother and know that with victory, there always comes a price. It may be the price of pain in the body of the defeated. It may be the price of bloodshed, of insanity, of having to walk away from a destroyed man and hear the cheers of a crowd that could give a damn how the lives of anyone involved are affected! How would you feel, Mr. Cameraman, if I stood up right now and beat you until you could barely walk, and tomorrow you went to your bosses crying and complaining and all they could say was ‘well, he sure kicked your ass!’? You wouldn’t like that too much, would you?” Matthew stands up, eying down the cameraman as he moves closer and closer. His anger seems to be growing with every step. The camera shakes and moves backwards, trying in vain to retreat. “STOP!” The camera stops, still slightly shaking. Matthew gets close to the lens. “You wouldn’t like to be laying face down in the middle of this parking lot and have security drive past here and cheer me or worse…ignore you as you lay here unconscious! You wouldn’t like that at all! I can see that fear in your eyes, the same fear that would be in anyone’s eyes if the possibility of no one caring about them existed. We all look for attention, don’t we, Mr. Cameraman? You would do anything, even come down here in the middle of the night with your little camera, if it meant your bosses might give you a raise or a promotion, or treat you just a little better than before! Well I don’t look for that kind of approval and neither does my brother. We look for balance, not recognition. We look for harmony, not the cheers or jeers of the crowds. We look to make it known, that as long as there are people out there making the wrong decisions in life, they are going to have to deal with the consequences of those actions!” Matthew turns his back on the camera and walks back over to his place on the sidewalk next to the bench his brother sleeps on. “So come Wednesday night, it seems Martin Hunt has a choice. He can call it all off, he can walk away…no harm, no foul…or he can look into my brothers eyes and attack, knowing full well that once he does…there is only one choice for my brother to make… …and whether he, or anyone else, likes it or not…that is karma... ...Now shut that thing off, I’m going to sleep.” With that, the camera slowly fades out as Matthew lays his back against the concrete, staring at the stars as the scene goes to darkness.

What about: Frankie Goes To Hollywood Wham! Limp Bizkit ???

I have CEP2 and am all up for editting if it needs to be done and can't be done with typical means (whatever those may be). 20 minutes in... very good for a first try with no real breaks. "Uhs" and things happen, though sometimes it more seems like he's riding the mic and other times pulling away. Again, if you put yourself in front of it more often you will gain an involuntary volume and distance for the microphone to make everything come out as good as possible.

I know it's not wrestling, but VGmix is great as far as background music/intro/exit music for various things. Also, you can always APPEAL TO THE MASSES and see if anyone on the board, or anywhere else, knows enough about mixing and music in general that they can put something together.

I did go into my stats just now and add in a few little details to help better understand the two characters. I know that there are many things that don't make sense, so I hopefully cleared some of that up. I was hoping to get it clearer and clearer over the next few weeks and give my character some real direction....which I still will be doing, but now it will at least give everyone else a heads up on why they act the way they do in promos and during matches.

I'm incredibly willing to get involved in this somehow.

^^^^ Everything with Will Smith in that film was hilarious.

I just saw that episode the other night....one of my favorites. Though "Chaos Theory" and "The Blood Drops" leads the way as far as CSI goes (I think it's "Blood Drops", the one with the four getting shot in the coffehouse)

The big one was Smurfs and Communism... but I can't remember any of the details off hand.

still... it seemed out of nowhere (the Lance Storm thing)

what about the night Lance Storm won damn near every WCW belt by himself?