Hello to my friends and to people killing the business everywhere. I thank you small t-shirt wearing fucker with limitless access to independent wrestling done by people better than you for trying to imitate them and dwindle our crowds down to shit. I also applaud everyone out there that thinks they're Vince McMahon but promote shows that Ed McMahon wouldn't sit in the crowd at, even if he were comped. I thank everyone for exposing the business. I thank everyone for going on message boards and making the marks feel like they have more than a passing fucking clue. I also thank the retards who work five times as much as I do, but somehow end up five times worse. I also thank all the fat fucks who don't cover up their fat, have 1/10th the talent or charisma of Dick Murdoch, or who just don't take a powder, climb over the guardrail, and sit in the fucking crowd. I also thank the assholes who think that because Dusty Rhodes looked like he never saw the inside of a gym, that they don't have to either. I also thank the fuckers who look like absolute ass, and make me grabbing a stick and causing a riot with all my clothes on look like the guy who should be taking the bumps inside the ring. I also want to thank all of the know it alls who don't think they suck and don't realize that every time you work is a chance to improve.

I'm the shits. Really. I am. If you think I'm good, well, thanks, but I could be SOOOOO much better. A lot of wrestlers you the fans like, well, they're the shits too. My comparison is to Gary Hart. I am the shits compared to him. Juniors, look at Evan Bourne. Fat guys, look at Mark Henry. Hardcore dudes, look at Abyss or Necro. Indy jabronies, look at Kenny King, Austin Aries and Rhett Titus. Do you look, or in most cases work like these guys? No. Well then, you're the shits until further notice. We're all shitty, but, we entertain these people in our ability to presuppose that we can approximate on some level what they are and what the guys who can write "pro wrestler" on their taxes can do. When we don't, and now, more than ever, we really fucking don't, like 75% of the time, the marks don't wanna come back.

And fuck. For fucks fucking sake, please stop thinking that you're at Chikara or ROH when you're really in a VFW hall. Fat Bob and his fat wife and fat kids at that show don't want to see Mexican wrestling unless the dude looks or works like Rey Mysterio or Eddie Guerrero. And they damn sure don't wanna see bad Asian knockoff wrestling unless the guy look or works like Kabuki, Muta or Tajiri. Those are the guys who ever made lots of money for that crowd doing that shit. Fuck. Me. Running.

We need to curate and cultivate the fucking fans we have left. Somebody with no fucking clue may tell you that it's more important to do that shit when you have 20,000 fans, but I argue it's MORE important when you have 20 (and don't lie, we've ALL performed in front of 20 people that you think are more mental midgets than you for buying tickets to the show) or 200 people.  These 20 or 200 people really wanna believe. And, in keeping them and cultivating them with good wrestling that makes sense and doesn't offend, well, that's good. Why is it that I read results and it's these shows where the chintzy and rusted ladder matches, hatchet blade abort your mother and let her die and bad knockofff X division shit takes place. I can't think of a good fucking reason to do anything that fucking dumb with so few people in the crowd. Oh. I know. You're a mark for thinking you're a phony tough guy, or you think you're running IWA East Coast or Mid South or IWC. Well, you ain't. Fuck. Me. Running.

I still want there to be a wrestling business that is fertile and vital for when the recession ends and people wanna spend money. I mean, shit. I write about music as a hobby, and I still steal CDs. I can't imagine with On Demand now and movies costing $12 a fuckin' ticket going to do that either. But I can get behind people paying to watch babyfaces and heels credibly grapple over common sense issues. It's the goddamned American way. But if everybody doesn't do their part, well, I can't imagine too many fans wanting to stick around on the indy level to help watch, appreciate and develop the next level of stars. Look to your left and look to your right the next time you're in a locker room. Now imagine that guy on WWE Superstars jobbing to Koslov. Can you? Most of y'all reading this know the answer.

Shit. I miss the days when the worst guy in a locker room could at least get a dark match or could work hard enough to be a manager of flunkie for someone on TV if they worked hard enough. I miss the days when the kids paid attention and listened instead of passing the knowledge in one ear and right out the other because they were too concerned about what some 15 year old broad barely out of braces wrote about them on Facebook. This is a BUSINESS. This is not a hobby, or something stupid to do. I hate working now because the very second I see some bullshit go down, I wanna beat the piss or shit out of someone. I'm angry as hell, and really don't want to do more than what I am doing for fear of myself. I came into this wanting to be a professional and feel I may want to leave sometimes because of the striking number of amateurs involved.

Fuck. Me. Running.

Maybe I'll just take it out on my work. It can only get better.

Fuck. Shit. Motherfucker.

- Me.

Know what I'm not digging so much these days? Japanese wrestling. The Japanese are on our shores so much these days, and are presented as being just as talented as the American guys that they don't have any mystique for me anymore. Kobashi's GHC title run kinda was my swan song. Sorry, but I can't differentiate all of these juniors. I know KENTA, and I LOVE Marufuji, and Dragon Gate guys are SOOOO athletic, but I don't see any stars, like SUPER stars or anything. With that said, I think that Dragon Gate project is a logical evolution of the end of the world, so, if we're going to go for it, they've got a really good shot of burning out crowds even further.

Watched the ROH TV. I'm of the same generation as all of these cats, and, well, try as we might, we can't walk and talk like the guys 20 years before us could walk and talk on small level regional TV, which ROH comes off like. Maybe it's just a matter of experience, but, nobody jumps off the TV as a home run hitter. Some may say it's presentation, I say it's a lack of experience. Guys in the 80s worked three to four times as many dates as the top indy guy does today. That would mean that they evolved three to four times as fast. Of the current ROH roster if that logic holds firm, Danielson, Castagnoli, Albright, Lynn, Jacobs, Aries and Rod Strong would be the guys most ready for consistent prime time viewing. And of that crew, JL is the only one with significant mainstream/territory TV time to fall back on. It's a noble attempt, but flawed.

The fed is better than ever. WWE is consistently awesome. I rather enjoy everyone as presently slotted, and think that the guys who take their craft seriously are being given the ball, and, well, the guys you haven't seen on TV since the middle of Bush's second term, well, that'll probably tell you something. I'm not crazy on the girls, as, there's not much depth, but, yeah. It's a shame nobody likes wrestling anymore. They've got some really deep and multifaceted characters right now (Orton, Edge, Jericho, Cena), and, if you deign to watch ECW, it's the best bell to bell wrestling show on TV in ages. Bourne, Swagger, Finlay, Christian (the best hand in he entire company by far), Mark Henry and a rapidly improving Tyson Kidd are very credible and solid.

TNA is a clusterfuck. It's a shame as they have guys who are really improving (AJ Styles), but, they've gathered a collection of guys who come off as past their prime, or not presented to young fans as refreshed or interesting. Booker T and Jeff Jarrett are awesome still, and Angle is a crazy man, but, I really think that the young guys down there need some sort of reason to have some passion and fire. They all look like they've been berated into believing they're midcard jabronies who are stupid and haven't the intellect or desire to improve, and their momentum is gone, but the TNA diehards still love them, which makes their crowd look like buffoons. It's a fun nostalgia show, but as far as something I watch and feel like I'm seeing the future, I don't know.

Of things WWE should directly jack from their "competition," the concepts of The Beautiful People (Maryse and a crew of chicks), AJ Styles (Evan Bourne as an athletic young babyface posited as a guy who's a blue chipper and winner against any odds), and Beer Money of Harris and Storm, the best fucking tag team anywhere in the entire known universe.

Elsewhere on the indies, Gabe Sapolsky routinely sucks off Chikara, so I won't here, but, Quack's booking is airtight, and the nerds follow along, and he gets that fanbase like Watts understood Negroes in '82 and Dusty understood rednecks in '86, and that's cool. I can't watch lucha unless Jack Evans, Teddy Hart and Konnan are involved, but i read the results, and see the growth, and, well, they have to be applauded. And anywhere where Mitch Ryder can fight Mexicans or ant people, and Eddie Kingston or Claudio Castagnoli can be giant killers of men, well, that's a winner.

As for me, enjoying my time in Maryland. The run there with York and Cobian has been a blast, and once I really get my groove, I wanna hit home runs there. I hit home runs at EWA, and have had some real big time fun with Bravura in the south, but have yet to really get my feet under me somewhere with that type of legend and renown. The responses have been getting larger and larger, and I can't wait to start really pushing some buttons. I have some new tricks up my sleeve I've been itching to use.

Some nincompoop with access to video and Youtube needs to book me and my gang of heels against Brad Stutts and a revamped Fatback Enterprises somewhere down South. Give us the book, and we'll leave you all on the edges of your seats and have David Crockett yelling "Look at 'em Tony!" every five seconds. He's one of the ten people on this planet I have utmost confidence in that I could draw BIG box office with if this was 30 years ago and people gave a fuck about that shit. I had a dream about Stuttsy/Sweeney/Cicero/Edsel/Dollars/Richards v. Dowling/Bravura/Ortiz/Jordane/Legend/Smith, doing a year somewhere, different crews each month, and oh the fun we'd have. But that's a dream because that'd make money, and well, we know that's not the goal of this shit anymore.

I work with and routinely surround myself now with folks who do everything right. They have good bodies, are smart, work hard, don't do anything stupid, are respectful of the history and traditions of the industry, and yet are the guys sitting on the bench when they could be scoring the touchdowns. I admittedly have been somewhat undermotivated as of late (amazing how that works when my work is better than it's ever been), but, I feel the itch coming back. If someone gives me, or any of my crew the ball, we're going to turn you on your ear. We WILL increase your crowds. We WILL  have the most professional presentation of anyone on the show (Legend and Jordane look like they were clipped out of the pages of Muscle and Fitness body wise) We WILL draw heat (Bravura and Ortiz ARE Chris Adams and Gino Hernandez), or in the case of the little black guy with Koko Ware's ass, young Stephon, make little girls and old ladies cry, and be the hero of fat kids that get picked on everywhere.

Wanna make money and have good matches that don't result in anybody dying or getting hurt, holla. I'm here, sharpening my shit, ready to fuckin' roll. These people haven't seen shit like this in 30 years.

Fuck it. We're the best. Plain and simple.

- Me.

My balls are sufficently drained and I did an hour on the treadmill. I AM TIRED. Tme to write.

Boredom's clearly set in.

Check out my musical rantings and ravings at TGRIOnline.com and thecouchsessions.com. I highly advise if you're not a fan of house, electro, techno or hip hop, you'll probably be bored stiff in seconds. Shit. Then maybe you should go check them out. Join my misery. Please.

I'm going to SXSW in March. No top rope, no arm drags. Drop down, get it again. Thanks Kamala, for that musical interlude. If you perform "Push It" with the Bar Kays while I'm in Austin, I'll die a happy man on the spot.

I'm gonna start shooting some promos soon. Maybe they'll be so good that you'll decide to not pay your car loan or mortgage and come to a wrestling show. Not to sound like a douchebag, though I will, I tend to think that the average pro wrestling fan, blue collar hump that he is, probably shouldn't really care that Christian York is gonna kick Ruckus' ass on February 21st. And if they're really gonna spend their money based on the expectation of Ruckus winning, then they're even dumber than I thought. Wrestling fans during a recession are two levels below dogs and fleas on the evolutionary intelligence scale. Seriously. And I swear for you 21st century idiots that take everything we rasslers say as truth, there's an element of truth there. Obviously. So fuck you.

Y'know, if a bitch gave me herpes, and told me, before a doctor could, I'd probably, without really thinking seriously about it, break her face. Sad, but true. And don't gasp, YOU'D DO THE SAME THING, SO FUCK YOU. Not saying that I'm Chris Brown, and that anybody I'd date would ever be Rihanna, but, if it's me and some retarded skank that worked me, then fuck. I might just feel the need to break her face. I'm a peaceful guy sometimes, but herpes. Yeah. That's a facebreaker for sure. But being an international celebrity, you HAVE to know better. Just can't be Chris the hood n***a with the three kids by three different women from Newport News always. Just not okay. But on the flipside, Chris Jericho can punch bitches in the face on Youtube from here to kingdom come and I'd NEVER get tired of it. Sayin'.

Shane McMahon is the shit worst wrestler in the business right now. I know 20 fat kids in Under Armour who'd totally ace that segment tonight. And I know 100 more who'd nail that dropkick, too. But they're not Vince McMahon's son. If they were, he'd disown them.

My independent wrestling tastes in the last month have really changed. I've seen the light. I want to work with Armando Estrada, Jim Cornette and Percy Pringle, and tell them to get off my nuts, and that they're weighing me down.

I want to be the motherfucker everybody wants to see, but that promoters are too stupid to book. For the real heads, I'll say that Nick Gulas was a better promoter than that one dipshit you know. And there are a lot of dipshits.

Fuck. I've got some shows comin' up. Maybe I need to lay off the Sparks, vodka, late nights and white girls and concentrate on improvin...wait. Who am I kidding?

LOL. Maybe I should take YOUR favorite wrestler out and party.

Maybe he'd get that stick out of his ass and figure this shit out.

Cause I wanna try to make no money with him.

- KONG

Hey. Bet that got your attention. Shit. It got mine too. It was not a good way to wake up this morning after passing out from a really hard workout and chilling out with some on demand PPV porno.

Back to what you're here for. I'm just checking in.

Got some crazy shit on the boil with the pro wrestling. Not that anybody much cares for it anymore if it's not done by World Wrestling Entertainment. I wish I wouldn't've been an untalented, heat stealing, spotlight craving douchebag like three years ago. I'd be sitting pretty on South Beach right now getting head from Aly and AJ (shit. I'm being real here. It'd either be them or some diva you wouldn't know. Same level of relative stardom.) with a TNA deal or a developmental or something. Not saying I'm that good, but, if I knew then what I know now, I would've been dangerous. Now, I'm merely frightening to the hundreds of people who still give a shit about us that don't do lucha or are on HD Net.

But fuck wrestling. And fuck wrestling fans. You sit on your fucking hands and don't pay for a goddamned thing anymore (tickets included) and lead to me getting paid in stacks of pennies to "entertain" you. Well fuck. Times is hard. And my feelings is hard too.

So yeah, a lot of us suck balls. Agreed. Thank fucking Vince McMahon for 24/7 for making it brutally obvious. That fat fucker that competitively jobbed to Chris Adams on World Class this week had ten times the clue of a lot of people y'all think are "good." But what does it mean to be "good" now anyway? The guy who is "good" couldn't lace the boots of the best jabronies back in the day. Rocky King could probably still work circles around a lot of locker rooms. Real talk.

So yeah. I'm finally the motherfucking shit in a lot of people's eyes. Earned it and everything. And you know what. I don't care. because goddammnit, by the standard which I have no other option by which to compare myself to now, I suck donkey nuts. And because work that will advance my situation is hard to find, I'm still going to be better than your favorite manager, but, in attempting to become better than my favorite manager, I'm gonna fail.

Then why fucking do this? 'cause I'm hooked. And an idiot. And I'm too stupid to quit. I'm going to be acting a fool 3-12 times a month probably 'til I'm 80000 years old. I'm not gonna quit, I'm not gonna give up, I'm not gonna get a family and have my awesome legacy of being your disposable entertainment go to shit. HA! I can't, and I refuse.

Wrestling stinks. The fans stink. About 90% of it sucks and blows at the same time worldwide. It bores the shit out of me. My deal right now, stay in that 10%. Cause I swear. If I fall into the 90%, I'll fucking kill myself, because then, my life is literally defined by a shitty job, a lack of sleep, DC and Baltimore nightlife, 90 minute gym workouts, and at present, a low carb diet.

Fuck. Fake fighting, as much as it may blow my fucking nuts right now for the most part, is keeping me from going completely and totally insane in our completely terrifying universe.

I'm gonna go watch Sandra Romain shove a foot into Belladonna's vagina.

That's more over right now to me than Randy the Ram.

KONG out.

This is the year.

I want some dirty punk rock bitches that like tattoos, The Runaways and drinking beers, wearing heels and being naughty. I want some club hopping chicks who shake it hard, fast, sexy and often, and can party all night long. I want a woman who lives after midnight and sleeps all day to look hot when the lights go out. I think I deserve that, and know exactly what to do with it.

This is the year.

I want to be the tree that falls in the forest and causes the ground to rumble, the skies to open, and for the whole world to know what happened.

This is the year.

I want to grate cheese with my abdomen.

This is the year.

I want my words to open shut eyes and drain raw emotions out of people until their souls bleed with passion.

This is the year.

I want you to know me, fear me, lust for me and wish you could breathe my air.

This is the year.

So it is written, so it shall be done.

If you lived in my head right now, you'd be drunk on power, high on life and scared shitless because you knew the world wasn't ready.

If Rome is burning, I'm the motherfucker furiously dancing to Nero's fiddle.

This is the year.

- KONG

So I make my Maryland Championship Wrestling debut this Saturday night in Dundalk. www.marylandwrestling.com. To say I've never been less excited would be, well, the perfect statement. I've kicked my own ass for the better part of five years to get back there. And, now that I am, I'm not excited. Try as I might, just can't get it. Maybe it's the fact that I live in Maryland and am annoyed it took so goddamned long. Maybe it's the fact that I feel like the prodigal son coming home. Maybe it's that I'm 100% sure I'm NOT getting cheered. Maybe it's the fact that Maryland fans are the absolute shits and are wannabe Philadelphia hacks that think that they're owed everything. Maybe it's all of that.

But what it mainly is, is that heeling those fools really isn't going to make my dick hard, so to speak. I thrive on heat. I thrive on making babies cry, I thrive on ensuring that exactly what the crowd paid to see doesn't happen. I want those assholes to have to pay a heapload of fucking money to get their desired response, hoping and praying that their last $20 they're going to get from plowing fields or donating their blood plasma or being blue collar humps isn't going to be spent in a waste. They're gonna have to kill me to ensure that whomever I'm managing doesn't win. That's how I think. For the uninitiated reading this, there's not a fucking thing that a wrestling fan can do that will scare me or make me cry. I've been hit, kicked, punched and threatened with stabbings, shootings and the death of various members of my family. I've kicked into damn near unconsciousess and shaved bald toothless redneck midgets with twice the common sense of the average wrestling fan. I've incited riots and been hit in the head with steel chairs by legends, but, undaunted, I came back to tell the tale. Calling me "Ding Dong" or "Teddy Long" or "Stymie," or telling me that "I suck,"or any of that garbage, well, it ain't workin'. You're not getting a rise, you're not going to make me "flub my promo," yadda yadda ya. I'm not bush league, I'm not a goof. And when you see what I've got with me, I think it'll make perfect sense.

I legitimately believe that I am the best wrestling manager you'll ever probably get to see with your own two eyes. I create entertainment and accentuate the skills and talents of my charges. I am not a "heel you love to hate," I am a hated man. If you need a reason to hate me, give me five minutes and I'll give you ten. I'm not there to sign your autographs, I'm not there to "make your kid's day," I'm not there to get the "brother, I hope you know I'm just kidding when you're out there, I really actually like yous" from the crowd.

I treat wrestling like my second job. I'm going to work, then I'm going home. Can't promise much more than that, but we'll see.

I'm excited by the opportunity, and love who I've got slated to work with. Other than that, the lot of you can go to hell. Quickly.

Thanks.

Kiss my ass.

- Me.

I have been cutting promos into mirrors and on inanimate objects for the last two weeks now, for three hours a night. I've done 9 60 minute broadways against my treadmill in the last 12 days. I've also travelled 700 miles in pursuit of wine, women and song in one weekend. And succeeded. Like I seem to do every day as of late. Some wine, some women, some song. It's a beautiful deal.

I have found that cold, warmth, pain and pleasure are all things I can control with my mind. If I don't think something is there, though it physically may be, it's not. I focus, and suddenly, I'm past it.

I also have composed the poem "I Wanna Get It In and Befriend Paris Hilton." I pass out every night now. I rest, but never sleep.

I am going to be a fucking rock star. It has been decided. Fucking rock star.

If you think for one minute I'm not fucking ready to rip up some shit, you're wrong. Deluded. I'm turned up to 11 these days. I see nothing in my head but open roads.

I welcome people that think they can jump on board.

One helluva ride is coming.

Yeah.

Can't sleep. I've got a rock concert on Guitar Hero from a prison in an hour where I think Slash of Guns and Roses is going to challenge me to a battle. I'm still on easy, but, I've jammed out on the Sex Pistols and Foghat pretty solid, and am getting my fingering down. No whammy bar or any of that shit yet, I'm still getting it down. But, it's Slash MAAAAAAN, in a prison that looks like Alcatraz. That's awesome.

I don't sleep anymore. I just had an hour long text convo with a friend, and later realized that we were texting, an probably because they didn't want to wake anybody up. And I had no idea what time it was. Kinda weird, but then again, totally normal for me.

2008 is catching up with me, finally. I'm SOOOOOOO tired. Just thinking about the 'rasslin, I have, in the past year, attacked an entire security force (AND WON!), been vociferously called a NIGGER for six months straight over three territories, shaved a midget bald, been hit with chairs by Balls and Axl, incited multiple riots, booked a tremendous angle in Blue Ridge Summit, PA that ended up with an ambulance getting called to the building by the marks, been a part of an intergender death match, gotten my ass beat multiple times in steel cages, and wrestled in four matches, ONCE AS A BABYFACE...(footage does not exist of this...but it DID happen). I have logged over 26,000 miles in a brand new car, a powder blue Toyota Yaris named Bocephus, that runs on wine women and song. Bocephus looks like a man that has seen too much he wasn't supposed to, and lived to tell the tale. I suppose I have as well, and when I do fall asleep from all of this, MAN am I gonna be tired.

But I'm addicted to this life. Addicted. It kinda sucks because when you want somebody around, you want somebody that's down for the whole ride. Not the before, not the after, not the spotlight, but everything. The ups, the downs, the weirdness, the strangeness, the learning, the growth. I understand why celebrities date other celebrities, why wrestlers date other wrestlers, why rock stars date other rock stars. It's easy to. They know this terrain, they know this life, they can handle it. It's hard, especially on my level, to live without somebody giving you immediate gratification, positively or negatively. It's hard to just sit at a desk and be docile, and get by, because you know that your days and nights once you leave are so vastly more interesting than that.

But I'm stuck. I'm a small time superstar with enormous aspirations. I'm focused on too much at the same time. I'm lonely, and sorta grasping right now, but, when you push the engine so hard, you need some sort of propeller to keep things moving, or somebody or something to make you stop.

Celebrity, or the pursual thereof, is difficult because with greater exposure and greater surrounding by it, it's the hours when you have to live within and inside yourself that are hard. you can climb to the top of a mountain, but, the hardest part is when you have to climb back down. I get why so many celebrities crash and burn. They want to be up, out, and relevant 24 hours a day. The true key is reaching peace when the lights go off. I see now how the ones that die, die. They can't take the silence. It's painful, it's not easy. You crave the limelight, the attention, and struggle with how to always get more, bigger lights, brighter lights, more excitement, more greatness.

I'm going to be an enormous celebrity one day. And I'm just trying to figure all of this out now, before it happens. Because at this rate, I pray it's any day now. LOL.

- KONG

So I watched "The Wrestler" and then proceeded to watch some recent wrestling. Bad idea. Randy "the Ram" Robinson is more "over" than anybody in the business right now. Know why? He's believable, looks good and does exactly what he's supposed to do in the ring. If you're unbelievable, look like shit and do shit you're NOT supposed to do, take a look at yourself. You're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. We have a lot more problems than we have solutions. And to be believable, you don't have to punch somebody in the mouth. The marks all know this shit is fake. So, by punching assholes square in the mouth, you look like a mark for yourself, and not for the business you're trying to do. Snug, not stiff. Wrestling is emotional. You are playing with people's emotions. If you wanted to "wrestle," please go to the Olympics. Please. I like fucking around with people a whole lot more. This is not to say that "technical" or "lucha style" wrestling have no place. They do. But there are people watching. And I know they want to care. So in between your slick transitions, slow down a little, and let the shit register. The marks paid money, of which we all have very little, to be entertained. Why is this business in the shitter? Because we actively do shit to ensure that the marks don't care.When WE were marks, the guys before us sure did that. Hell. Fucking MICKEY ROURKE, who is more over than all of us, does. Ernest Miller, who is widely considered to not be able to carry the jock of a lot of us, sure did. So yeah. Fuck you if you're not.

Fat kids. Dusty, Abby, Jerry Blackwell. If you don't have the charisma or cardio to be them, quit. Or lose some goddamned weight.

Skinny kids. Sean Waltman. X-Pac. As good as he is? Probably not. Put on some weight. Do I care how? No, not really. But, if you don't care about shrunken nuts, go for it. And learn how to work. because when the time comes for you to make some money, you're gonna have to shrink for a bit, and know how to sell. Real talk.

Also, if you can't talk, don't. Let the people on your show who are SUPPOSED to talk, talk. Realize your strenghts, hide your weaknesses. The booker doesn't have to do that for you. And bookers, the whole entire fucking show is NOT WWE. Again, the marks know that we're not all Hunter or Santino. So please, it's okay to take the mic out of our hands, and let us work and get over. Those of us worth a shit, can, and those of us who can't, need to learn. That is ultimately the purpose of your show.

We CAN put this back together again. But we've sure done a lot of shitty, ignorant, retahhhhhded, stupid, inane and completely pointless fucking shit to get us where we are. Some of us will likely be dead or retired before we get it back, but, let's do what we can. If you don't, please, I beg of you, get the fuck out.

Again, Mickey Rourke, who has not paid due one, but will win somebody's award for portraying what we're SUPPOSED to be, is better than all of us, COMBINED, right now. I am not okay with this.

- KONG