JST

This shall be, as they say, interesting...

Who does Vince McMahon love? How apropos.

I also dabble into some "kinda" sci-fi, but I don't think I could take the criticism if it's bad. (cuz, y'know, it might not be... )

Keeping with title dominance: --- And this one I couldn't resist.

Survivor Series 96 had part of that with the Wild Card Match. You had "random pairings" of HBK, Sid, Amhed Johnson and Bulldog VS Owen Hart, Yoko, Razor Ramon, Dean Douglas. It was interesting at the time and I'm surprised they didn't further pursue it.

I haven't read the whole show yet, but I'd be remiss not to add my congrats to IL. Dude, you were always there, climbing up and now you're at the top. Nice work, sir. (Y)

Toronto Represents! article by: J.S. Trudel Following the events of Battleground and Downward Spiral, the Four Norsemen have managed to get on the bad side of Tod James Stuart. After being attacked two months in a row by the European foursome, Stuart has promised he would recruit a tag team partner for the upcoming Hell Freezes Over spectacular (Tuesday April 29th, check local listings), in the form of a man named Daniel Smith. As seen here earlier this week, Stuart advised his partner to partake in a little warm-up of sorts before getting to tangle with the Norsemen on the 29th. While phone calls to Mr. Stuart inquiring to know more about Mr. Smith went ignored, our cameras caught the in-ring debut of Daniel Smith at a live SWF house show in Philadelphia, PA. Click here to watch Daniel Smith's debut --- A flash of the SWF logo. We open to a shot of the rabid crowd from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The setting is the New Alhambra Arena, a location that has seen more than its share of wrestling history. "Hello everyone, and we and welcome to yet another SWF.com Exclusive!" shouts the interviewer over the crowd noise. "I'm Ben Hardy and alongside me is the Grand Slam himself; Mr. Mark Stevens!" "Great to be here, Ben and coming up we have the in-ring debut of a man we've actually heard not so much about!" replies Stevens, as if he never were away from a microphone. "A man by the name of Daniel Smith is set to make his debut in a few moments and all that we know, is that he's an acquaintance of one Tod James Stuart." "Stuart's been having some problems lately with the Four Norsemen, being victim of two vicious attacks in the past couple of months. He's promised some type of backup in the form of this Daniel Smith, and coming up in just a couple of weeks they're set to go up against Rikard Fleihr and Arne Andersen." "But for now, this is a match that is exclusive to SWF.com, we are live from the New Alhambra Arena, a.k.a. Viking Hall, a.k.a. the 'bingo hall', a.k.a. the legendary ECW Arena! Right now, let's take you to ring announcer Stephen DeAngelis!" Using the hard camera, we cut to a full shot of the ring where stands the aforementionned renowned announcer, along with the silver-haired and leather-clad opponent. "Ladies and gentlemen! This contest is set for ONE fall! Introducing first, currently in the ring. He hails from The Edge Of Reality!" utters DeAngelis, sounding as ominous as he can. "... Weighing in at 240 lbs, he is "The Paladin": Chaaaance - Siiiiiil-veeeeer!" The grappler of faith strikes a quick "last rites" pose, under a smattering of boos and "You look like a faggot!" call. "Aaand his oppo--...!" continues DeAngelis, before having the microphone taken from him. "Silence, sinner!" declares The Paladin. "It is not by your words that this modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah will receive the proper soul cleansing it so richly lacks! So much blood has flowed here, so much carnage and debauchery! I can still smell the depravity that has befallen this once reverred domain, it sickens me!! Shut - the - fuck up!! [clap, clap, clap-clap-clap] "Fear no more, my faithful! I am the downfall of whichever opposes me, and tonight! Daniel Smith! The mere fact that we know nothing about you will only be matched by the might which will I will strike - you - down! Come forth, and listen not to these hate-mongers! Embark on your quest that will never be, and humbly accept your imminent defeat!" "Goes without saying," says Ben. "but Chance Silver isn't doing his best to endear himself to the city of Brotherly Love." "These Philly folks can be quite particular, to say the least." replies Stevens. "They won't take kindly to being told what to do and think. At this point, they're ready for just about anybody to come out and quiet him up!" Stephen DeAngelis reclaims his tool of the trade, while The Beatles' "Helter Skelter" fires up over the bingo hall's PA system. "His opponent!" resumes DeAngelis. "Hailing from north of the border; by way of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. He is making his SWF in-ring debut… please welcome… Danieeeeellllll – Smiiiiiiiith!" With the Alhambra's spotlight landing on the small entrance area, it catches the impressive shape of a man crossing through the curtains with a look on his face determined to make an impact, while the crowd reacts with anticipation at what a man of his size is about to do. With short brown hair, ever-present 2-day stubble and a large muscular frame; he's clad in a pair of long dark blue tights with a pattern of interlocking white lines, outlined in black. The camera pans behind him to catch a "DS" logo in the shape of the DC Comics emblem at the back of his tights. Also noticeable is a sleeveless t-shirt that bears the logo of the Wrestling Clinic; Tod James Stuart's wrestling school. "I'm being handed the specifics," says Ben. "That mountain of a human being stands at six feet, seven inches. He tips the scales at a staggering 285 lbs. Like the shirt says, he trained at the Wrestling Clinic up in Toronto, under Tod James Stuart himself. He's been noted as being his fastest rising pupil so far, which in turn makes Stuart's decision to call him up not that surprising." Looking at Daniel's demeanor, you'd never know that this was his debut. Sending long approving looks at the raucous Philly crowd, Daniel psyches himself up with a loud grunt as he power-walks up the ring steps. Wiping his feet on the apron, he crosses the ropes while drilling holes into his first official opponent. Meanwhile, Chance Silver remains stoic in the face of the giant odds that he's meeting for now for the first time... "The SWF has seen its share of big men in the past, but I'm pretty confident this Daniel Smith will make a more than suitable addition to the roster." states Stevens. Once Smith is free of his t-shirt, referee Nick Soapdish orders the bell to be rung. With regained confidence, Chance Silver is once again preaching his beliefs mere inches in front of his opponent, going as far as planting an accusing finger in his chest. After a few seconds of working himself into a religious frenzy, Silver lets off with a mighty SLAP that connects with Smith's face, drawing several Ooh's and You-Are-Fucked from the crowd. Silver tries to snuff the rapidly rising fire in Smith's eyes by quickly connecting with a go-behind into a waistlock on his larger opponent. He tries to lift him up into a rear waistlock takedown, but Smith's feet remain firmly planted. Making full use of his strength advantage, Smith grabs hold of both of Silver's wrists and effortlessly manages to pry his hands apart! Silver can only look on in shock as Smith holds onto the right wrist only, spins Silver around and flattens him with a massive short-arm clothesline! Silver is knocked down and already loopy, but soon finds it within himself to get back up to his feet. Daniel Smith doesn't have that kind of time to wait, as he grabs Silver by the back of the neck as soon as he got to one knee, and muscles him the rest of the way up. Rearing back, he unloads on Silver with a series of five or six hard forearm shots that serve to further wear down his opponent. He follows it up with another set of strikes, this time a series of palm thrusts to the chest that serve to stagger Silver back into a corner. Once there, Smith doesn't let up. He turns around as if to have his back to his opponent, and then unleashes a vicious series of elbow strikes to Silver's head, alternating between left and right! "Look at those elbows!" utters Ben Hardy. "We're in the opening minutes of this contest and Daniel Smith is already turning Chance Silver's head into mashed taters!" After elbow #7, referee Nick Soapdish has fired up the five count and warns Daniel to break out of the corner. The brief respite only allows Silver to slump to a seated position in the corner. After hearing out Soapy's warning, Smith notices Silver's situation. He charges without mercy towards the corner and connects with a solid knee strike to the head! "I'm looking at my notes here, Mark." says Ben. "That whole sequence we just saw with the elbows and the knee, get this; he calls it 'Me Hitting You'. Imagine that!" "It's basic, it's simple and it gets the message across." states Stevens. "I don't think the rest of the roster should be looking forward to experience that." Lifting his hapless opponent back up to his feet, Daniel Smith grabs hold of Silver's wrist and sends him on a decisive Irish whip run to the opposite corner, landing hard back first. Two seconds later, Smith is charging after him and connects with another heavy corner clothesline! Further adding to his combo, Smith grabs Silver's arm once again and yanks him into another short-arm clothesline. He tops the whole thing off by almost caving his chest in with a massive elbow drop. He maintains the lateral press for the first pin cover of the match. "One!" "Two!" "Th-No!!" "That sequence, he calls it the 'Domi Special'! Named of course after Tie Domi, a Torontonian known for some roughhousing of his own." says Ben. "Pretty fitting, too, because Dan Smith is just tossing Chance Silver around like a ragdoll!" replies Stevens. But he hasn't said his last word tonight as he rolls the shoulder up!" Smith has Silver up to his feet again and backed into another corner. Pushing Silver's face backwards, Smith raises his massive paw and lets loose with a loud overhand chop that the Philly faithful meet with an approving hoot. Upon request of the crowd, Smith lets loose with a second overhand chop! Silver really wants to collapse to the ground and hold his stinging chest, but the might of Smith is holding him prisoner to his vertical doom. He sets him up for another Irish whip, and successfully sends him on another forced trip to the opposite corner. Smith dashes forward for another crushing corner charge, but he's suddenly met with a pair of boots to the face! "There's still some life in The Paladin!" declares Ben. "As he gets the feet up and starts unloading with massive right hands!" Silver tries to capitalize by staggering the big man with a series of roundhouse rights to the head. He sets up Smith for an Irish whip to the ropes, surprisingly managing to send his larger opponent on the intended run. Silver bends down for an attempt at a back body drop, but he's met with a nasty kick to the shoulder that'll stop any momentum. With Smith's right hand ready, he traps Silver in the dreaded goozle. "He's going for what he calls the Miracle On Yonge Street!" says Ben, working off his notes once again. "Which is your standard chokeslam, but he adds that extra bit of pressure by falling with all of his weight into a seated position. If he hits this, it'll be over for sure!" "Not quite, Silver's still got some left in him!" says Stevens. Silver is frantically firing forearms blows to Smith's chest in order to prevent the move. But he might as well have been throwing forearms against concrete as Smith stops his momentum once again with a heavy knee lift to the midsection. He neutralizes Silver with a double underhook and then effortlessly lifts him up with an overhead suplex, and forcefully drops him down, converting the move into a modified powerbomb! "That's shades of Scott Steiner, right there." observes Mark Stevens. "Another athlete who was known to throw people around back in the day." "Quite right indeed, as Daniel Smith is actually a huge fan of Scott Steiner's work circa 1991 to 1993. Word is, he was even practicing on a version of that leaping headscissors takedown back at the Wrestling Clinic in Toronto." replies Ben Hardy. "That'll be the day when a near-300 pounder busts out the Frankensteiner..." With Silver contorting in pain on the mat, Smith raises to his full frame and addresses his opponent with a quick throat slash. "You're dooooone!" bellows the deep-voiced Canadian. As Smith has Silver's carcass in his hands, he runs his opponent's near arm through his own legs and hooks the near arm, the recognized position of the pumphandle. He lifts Silver up on his shoulder, and with no wasted motion, forcefully drives the back of his head and upper back to the mat. "Daniel Smith looks to finish Chance Silver and that could be it right there!" states Ben. "If I'm not mistaken, that's the Spirit Breaker! That move led Tod deKindes, now Tod James Stuart, to many victories against some top quality opponents here in the SWF. The move is effective enough on its own, just imagine having it done to you by a guy like Dan Smith!" "The cover!" Smith hooks the leg, and holds down Silver's head with his free forearm for good measure. Nick Soapdish swoops into position. "One!" "Two!" "Three!!" The bell rings. The victorious theme song begins. The cynical crowd cheers. The unworthy woe has been thoroughly vanquished. The announcer makes it official. "The winner of this contest; is Daaaanieeeellll - Smiiiiith!!" "An impressive debut for Daniel Smith, as he handles the onslaught of Chance Silver and disposes of him in short order!" says Ben Hardy. "Silver did what he could, but he just couldn't get enough offense going against the big guy. I'm looking forward now to seeing what kind of team he'll make with Tod James Stuart." replies Stevens. "Just a reminder, Tuesday April the 29th is the date for the next big-time event as SWF presents Hell Freezes Over! Alexander vs Luchador for the title! Annie and Taiga go at it once again! And that man in the ring teams up with his trainer Tod James Stuart to take on Fleihr and Andersen of the Norsemen! That and more, we'll see you there! Good night, everybody!" SWF © Fade.

SWF Mobile Exclusive! A few short hours following the events of Downward Spiral, the crew of the SWF Mobile service caught commissioner Landon Maddix seated at his desk and already in the middle of filling out some paperwork in front of intrepid interviewer Ben Hardy. "…And that'll do it." says Landon, apposing his autograph at the end of his stack of papers. "Just make sure to get those results to the online people and they'll get the next card up. Man, I'm already looking forward to seeing Luch go for that title. Don't care who wins, just as long as there's an ass in every seat!" "I'll get on it, boss!" reports the loyal Hardy. "Ben, I don't say this enough, but you're doing a HELL of a job!" claims the commissionner, unable to shed his cheery mood after the stellar show that was 'Spiral. "Aw, gee thanks, sir." says a blushing Hardy, glad someone is recognizing his efforts. "LANDON!!" echoes a sudden voice coming from the hallway outside the office. The origin of the booming cry of fury soon manifests itself in the form of Tod James Stuart, who offers the office door a mighty shove and then rushes through the threshhold. Still clad in his wrestling gear, he's holding a large icepack to his ribs that he soon tosses down in frustration. "WE GOTTA TALK!" "Ben, I think you better go." says a still-calm Maddix. "I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS SHIT!" bellows a vengeful Tod. "What the hell happened to your door? Hey Ben." "Long story." offers Landon. "I'M SICK AND--…" resumes Tod, but then cuts himself off to catch his breath and regain his bearings. "Hey Tod! You seem upset about something." says Landon in an effort to start over this exchange from the beginning. Tod starts pacing around the office, doing his best to maintain a controlled breathing pace. Many thoughts can be seen going through his mind. "This isn't what I had in mind, Landon…" begins Tod. "Remember when I first talked to you about giving this a more serious shot? Doing this the right way? I'm grateful for the chance, I really am… Getting jumped from behind is NOT what I had in mind! I'm NOT going back to being the punching bag I was last year! These Norsemen are so intent on proving that I'm below their level, but I'm not, Landon. I have to beat them. I need to beat them! I'm better than them, I know it. But you keep putting me against each and everyone of them separately and we both know that's a losing proposition with a group of guys like them. And thereby lies our conundrum!" "Hey man, you're the one who signed on for the match. I can't say I approve what they did to you, but you had to expect that coming from them. Especially two months in a row." says Landon, trying to find reason and common ground. "So, what, next month you want Olaf? Or Tolland?" "No. I don't care about them. I want both Fleihr and Arne. I'm gonna end it once and for all." Upon the ludicrous request, the commissioner's eyebrows scrunch into a quint, followed by an eyebrow raise. "…You are kidding, right? I mean, I like the image change and all, but your win-loss record hasn't been stellar lately. Now you wanna take on two guys by yourself?" Tod's angry demeanor then converts to a pensive smirk as he sends a glance to his commissionner. "You been online lately, Landon?" asks Tod. "If you have, you'll notice I mentionned a little something about going back to the well. Tonight, I thought I wasn't gonna need him. But I guess I'll have to bring in the big guy sooner than I thought. A good friend, you could say…" "You mean…?" "No. It's not Taylor. It's not Frost. It's not Danny Williams. If he's got anything in common with them is that he's getting a little impatient about getting in the ring and tossing a few people around. Namely a couple of Norsemen. That, and he happens to share a name with one of 'em. Just give me Fleihr and Arne, Landon." "…I don't like it. But fine. If you tell me you'll have a partner, then it's official." says Landon, then switching to his promoter voice, visualizing the invisible marquee in front of him. "Next month; in Halifax, Nova Scotia! At Hell Freezes Over, it's gonna be you! Tod James Stuart! And your partner! Taking on the Four Norsemen combination of Rikard Fleihr and Arne Andersen!" he concludes, before laying a final warning to his competitor. "Don't mess it up. You're no good to me if you keep getting your ass handed to you." "You won't be disappointed." says Tod with a grateful smirk. "Lemme use your phone." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Landon Maddix retrieves his cellular phone and hands it off to Tod James Stuart. He then leaves Tod by his lonesome, allowing him a bit of privacy. Dialing on the contraption, Stuart awaits a few seconds before getting an answer. "Dan The Man!… Good news. The GTA Fight Team is officially a go. Next month in Halifax, you get to tear some Norseman heads… But um, I think you're due for a little warmup first…" --- © SWF 2008

I liked very much. My experience with RP'ers has been reading horribly uninspired (and mostly badly written) promos where the subject is nigh invincible and basically live out a kid's fantasy to be a wrestling character. But not this one. It's the incorporating of the little flaws in the speech and actions while still maintaining a certain edge. Well done.

Curt Slim Rims?

Absolutely not. I am Mr. Slim Citrus (or Mr. S£im Citrus, if special characters are allowed) on every message board I post on. This is not negotiable. Where DID that come from? I mean, I can't say I've seen a whole lot of CITRUS, S listings in the white pages, ya know?

Incontheivable. Edited for character accuracy.

YouTube Broadcast Yourself ™ From: TodJamesStuart Joined: 2 weeks ago > About this video: Tod James Stuart addresses the situation regarding Battleground and beyond. Category: Wrestling, Sports Tags: Tod James Stuart TJS Insert flashy SWF logo here. Followed by a brief clip of The Beatles' "Helter Skelter". Once the grainy image comes on, we see what looks like the interior of a modest apartment in downtown Toronto, Ontario, Canada. More precisely, we're at a computer desk overlooking what looks like a living room. A few Wrestling Clinic t-shirts, pairs of socks, blue wrestling tights and several boxer shorts appear to be drying on an improvised clothesline that goes the entire length of the living room. Or den. Bedroom? Ah, the joys of mediocre quality flash videos... The song fades to a stop as the 150$ office chair rolls into view, carrying none other than Tod James Stuart. Barefoot, clad in camo shorts and a Mats Sundin royal blue t-shirt. "Hi there!" utters the canadian, reclining in his seat. "You'll forgive me for not dressing up. It's laundry day. Live with it." he says before clearing his throat. "I am here today from the comfort of my apartment and I was asked to address what happened at Battleground, between myself and what people call the ELITE of the SWF, the most DOMINANT faction in this company, the GREATEST collection of talent ever assembled, the--really, can I stop here? I'm gonna be sick... Last month at Battleground, I embarked on the first step back up the ladder. Had my KICK-ASS theme song playing, had a decent match with Rik Fleihr... but then I get accused of getting racked in the head a little too often! I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot the type of company a man like Fleihr keeps..." We fade to a clip of Battleground. Nearing the end of the match, Tod James Stuart has Rikard Fleihr firmly in his sights as he locks on the deadly Silent Scream. Fleihr was quickly fading, and a tap-out was imminent, lest he risk passing out due to oxygen deprivation. His rescue came at the hands of Arne Andersen who, assisted by his allies, would not give Tod the satisfaction of defeating their leader and friend. Tod would stave off doom with the aid of a steel chair, but the damage had already been done... "A win by disqualification is nothing but a glorified moral victory." continues a pensive Tod. "I'm here to defeat people. Pin them or make them submit. I don't do moral victories. Rikard Fleihr, I needed to beat you that night. I needed to beat you to prove to the people out there, the rest of the SWF and to myself that I'm still worth a damn. The second your buddy Arne came in and got in the way of that, I suddenly found myself having a big problem with the Four Norsemen. Next show is Downward Spiral. Take Two, as I'm set to go against the big ol' Enforcer. Now you're probably wondering: 'Tod! You're one man, and they're five and a half!' If you count all those "tucking in" rumors I heard about Helle... After my match last month, the intrepid SWF cameraman caught me mentionning a little something about 'going back to the well'. And so I did... Let me assure you right away. Next month, at Downward Spiral, we will not have a repeat of Battleground. 'A bold claim to make!', you say! Go on. Go ahead and tell me I'm screwed. I got just the thing to make sure it won't happen again." A cell phone begins to ring next to Tod. He picks it up and looks at the display. "That would be my fellow Torontonian. Gotta take this one. Later." concludes Tod as he flips his phone open, answering his call. "Dan The Man! Just the guy I was expecting..." Fade into the SWF logo. ... Comments: 5 Comment on this video!

Nah. I hate stumbling onto a dreaded 404 page, and didn't want to bestow the same fate to others. Thanks for the feedback.

I remember Stevens during my first run here. I'm fine with anyone, just as long as it's not too "gimmicky".

I'm in if Landon got my booking request.

Not much to say except I'm looking forward to reading other matches, and that I hope my comeback effort will be up to par.

The Wrestling Clinic 31, Finch Ave. E Toronto, Ontario, Canada --- Bodies slamming against the mat, in succession. "Good job, Danny! Adapt the pace!" The grunts and groans of physical effort seemlessly flow into the symphony of the resounding mat, as we fade into what looks like a converted warehouse riddled with plastic folding chairs. Some chairs have an assortment of gym bags, athletic gear and fresh clothes strewn all over them. The chairs are set up as to surround a square motif of crash mats, which in turn surrounds a wrestling ring. Welcome to the Wrestling Clinic. A dozen students are seen surrounding the ring, watching with great interest what's happening in the ring right now. Inside, a large young man clad in warmup gear is seen pinballing around three other students, two guys and one girl, with a variety of power and technical moves. In a perfect display of wanting it more than ever, the three smaller pupils shrug off the pain of body colliding with mat and waste no time getting back to their feet. Only to be dispatched to the canvas in succession once again by the bigger man controlling the pace of this free-styled practice. "Daniel, you hesitate and you get clipped in the knee!" yells the booming voice of the instructor. "Soon as that happens, that momentum goes out the window." The camera pans several rows, all the way to the last row of chairs in order to locate the origin of the voice. There, we find the man shouting out trainer's advice and general encouragement to his students. A man who looks on with pride at what his teachings have created so far, with a certain touch of regret… "Get a good shot, Mr. SWF Camera Man." says the non-shouting voice of the instructor. "These are the men and women you're gonna see on top of the wrestling world sooner than later. Daniel, Tara, Antonio, Matthew, and all the others you see around that ring there. One day, they're gonna own any professional wrestling ring that they'll ever set foot into. But today's not about them. That's not why I asked you guys, the SWF camera crew, to come here today." The camera, which had went back to the ring upon the man's request, goes back into a closeup of the instructor. A man who may seem unfamiliar to most, but the older SWF fans will remember him. Back to his medium length dark hair, clean shaven face, his demeanor hasn't changed since his forced retirement five years ago. Clad in a 'Wrestling Clinic' t-shirt and warmup pants, the man speaks into an SWF camera for the first time in five years. Spending his time staring at his feet, rubbing his hands together or crossing and uncrossing his arms; this is more of a vehicle for him to express himself, rather than maintain a conversation with the SWF faithful. "I asked you guys here because of many, many things I had on my chest. My name is-"…the man stops, letting out a short dry chuckle at what he's about to say. "I guess I should say that for over five years, the SWF knew me as none other than Tod deKindes. The angry german warrior! The sole-surviving member of X-Force 9! The fastest rising wrestler in the SWF, like that term's been never used to death… One of the least-regarded members of the SWF roster… As time went on, more and more definitions and nicknames were tacked on that I never wanted. On June 22nd, 2003, everybody got their wish. Including myself. I went through one of the most physically exhausting matches of my life with a guy I love to death and I credit him for getting me out back then. I went through a grueling Career Match with Taylor Nicholas Thompson, I beat him up, he beat me up some more and in the end, well… everything came into place. "Everybody had what they wanted. Taylor had the distinction of pinning his sworn rival into retirement. The fans were thrilled at not having to see my smug-ass on their TV screens any longer. And me, despite losing, I was happy on so many levels. My body was broken and sore. My mind had nothing left. I was empty. I finally had a way out from that. In short, the SWF was finally rid of Tod deKindes, and I was finally rid of them. My name… is Tod James Stuart. I'm just a guy from Toronto, who happens to love professional wrestling. Tod deKindes was just some stupid college kid's idea of a joke that got taken way… wayyy too far. After that June night in '03, I thought I had put that joke long behind me. I was free to finally take on some projects on my own. I started this school, which I'm damn proud of. My girlfriend gave birth to an awesome baby girl. My professional wrestling itch had been scratched. I no longer had any reason to be angry at the world. "…But if I'm anything like anyone, itches tend to come back. Once I retired, I was determined to stay retired. Heh, that didn't last long… I'm not upset at the fact that I broke my own word and came back. I'm upset at the fact that I came back, and I didn't give myself as much as I should've. Hell, I faced a laundry list of new SWF guys I'd never faced before. This is in no way a slight against them, but they might as well have faced a punching bag with a bad haircut. No… I thought about my last match, that four-way back in November, and that sure as hell is not how I'm gonna be remembered. So, what I did, I got my ass into gear. I hit the gym like a motherfucker. My girlfriend made me some of her best kick-ass carb-free meals. I went into that ring." he says, pointing off camera to his students. "And I mixed up with each and everyone of these guys, just to see if I still had it! The drive, the guts, the fire inside! Well, guess what… "I look at my little girl… and that fire couldn't be brighter. So, if I'm gonna come back. I'm gonna do it right. My name is Tod James Stuart. I'm a guy from Toronto, who happens to love professional wrestling…" In order to ensure that he'll get his point across, Tod guides the camera lens carefully up to his face and looks eye-to-eye to us. To me, to you, to the viewer. "This time, I do it right." Tod's look of determination fades into the same title card we saw at the beginning; The Wrestling Clinic 31, Finch Ave. E Toronto, Ontario, Canada ---

With my massive amount of "ring" rust, you may even have a fighting chance. Or two!

I didn't need to see Moolah doing squats.

Flash grenade? Pussies. Four words: Head on a PIKE.

In the same vein, I've been looking for "Mr. McMahon's Utopia" forever. If memory serves me right, it was a PPV intro for either one of the shows where Austin defended against Dude Love. Help?

There's gotta be a way to have both ways. While I certainly agree with the competitive aspect of this place, one goal should also be to produce entertaining shows, right? Sorry Rando; looking back at some of my old (old, oooold) posts here, I realized I had attention-whore (with a hint of butthole) tendencies which may have turned some people off and indirectly in some way hastened my departure. Carry on.