Bookmark and Share


Feedburner YouTube Facebook Twitter
RAVEN'S BLOG ARCHIVE
2017 | 2016 | 2015
2014 | 2013 | 2012 | 2011
2010 | 2009 | 2008 | 2007
2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003

BACK TO MAIN



Raven's Log | July 20, 2007

I thought the following was interesting and it saved me from writing a few extra paragraphs. What? I’m fucking lazy. You write this shit. Oh you will, will you? Why don’t you say it to my face? “Sweetie, you’re talking to yourself again. Why don’t you get back to work, your TV set’s getting lonely.”

This was posted on www.imdb.com from RhinoKev. And YES, I do write my own shit too, this just seemed like an appropriate lead-in. It seems a little self indulgent, and complementary, but bear with me, and I can promise it’s not all Rah Rah Raven.

“I knew Scott Levy from college at the University of Delaware. He is a year older than me and I had many friends at Theta Chi (his fraternity) and attended many parties back there in the 1980s. People called him “Scotty the Body” even back then. The dude had incredibly ripped arms and always wore his hair really short – practically a crew cut. Scott wanted to sponsor me as a pledge at Theta Chi but by that time I was a junior and while you want to seem like a tough guy (which was the only type of people Theta Chi took). I was more talk than action, and Theta Chi was ALL about rumbles. Scott sensed it and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t get a bid, but come out to Rush Week anyway.” He was a tough guy alright and you didn’t mess with him. If you ever run into him, ask him about his fight in college with Greg Burnshaw… Just don’t ask Greg Burnshaw about it (if you are reading this Greg much love and no offense. You were always cool with me).

Scott is from Florida, and the story that was passed around the dining hall was that his father was the editor in chief of the National Enquirer. I never called him on it. He wasn’t exactly a friend but a guy I had talked with maybe fifteen or twenty times in college. He was very intelligent and graduated on time, unlike most students. I have more stories about him but if I disclose them he would probably hunt me down and strangle me. He was a misunderstood guy, as people looked at how massive he was and drew automatic conclusions about him being a meathead. Not true at all. He wasn’t a saint, though, but he did things his own way.

Have to give him credit for that.”

Editor’s Note: or, actual work as performed by me Raven, and me alone. No one else helped me, I did it all by myself. Yay me, I rock. It only took 14 years for me to do a follow up blog to my scathing and topical essay on the Thatcher administration and her policy of the more unemployed the better. Or something like that. Anyway, hooray, here we go, hooray, lets rock this like a Dr. Seuss pajama jammy jam, hooray for Captain Spaulding, hooray for Hollywood, hooray for lunch, I’m famished. Excuse me while I eat brunch. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Wooo-Hooo. And away we go . . . . Let me begin the following by saying, this blog, (not a journal mind you, we don’t use that term anymore), may seem a little self absorbed, but what the hell. Besides, as I readily admit, I’m no fucking saint. I’m no badass either, and I am certainly not the greatest person. I spent a lot of years as a complete prick, sometimes as a partial prick, but mostly I used my prick. That is until I met the most wonderful person I’ve ever known, my wife. People can change, I know I have. Maybe not enough, but it’s the journey, not the destination. But it’s not the band Journey. I’m convinced of that. In fact, I’m convinced for whatever reason, that they have played absolutely zero part in my spiritual growth. As far as musical growth, bwahahahaha. In fact musically, we are all dumber for having listened to them.

Now I found the above comments by RhinoKev interesting on a couple of levels. First, curiously, I can’t, for the life of me, put a face to this person. Second, at 220 lbs, I wasn’t that massive compared to big guys like Don Muraco, but in the normal college world, I guess I was pretty big, or at least by junior year. Ironically, I graduated high school at 160 lbs after two years of heavy lifting. I started out at 129 lbs with 17 inch thighs and 11 inch arms. I graduated high school smaller than nearly anyone in the business at that time including Jericho, the late Benoit, Pillman, and every other cruiserweight or light-heavyweight that was told they were too small. Let me tell you, it sucked. Third, I’ve probably been in over a hundred fights. All with people bigger than me, except a handful. Never with people I thought I could bully, b/c I hate bullies. Being a skinny kid the first half of my life, no wonder. Yet it’s ironic, after bouncing at clubs where you’d fight every night, to being an ex marine, to barbed wire and ECW, a percentage of the boys tend to think that I’m not tough at all, which is fine with me – always has been. Worrying about what you think about yourself is hard enough – why worry about what others think?

Interestingly, is that most people fight only people they are bigger than, or people that they know they can take. Even more interesting than that, is you never see two big 260 plus-pound, motherfuckers fight each other. They always seem to talk it out. Why is that? Yet they never talk it out when it’s obvious they’d win. Toughness doesn’t mean you’re a great fighter, toughness just means you’re willing to man-up when it’s necessary. Whether, it’s being willing to get up after you’ve been knocked down, or as simple as taking the heat for your own screw ups, whether you are blamed for them or not. It’s real fucking easy to let someone else be blamed. Finally I find most fascinating, that the guys who are “physically tough” are usually the least tough emotionally, but that is a whole ‘nother topic. Of course the toughest guy is the one who knows he is and has no need or desire to prove it no matter what anybody says, which brings me to my next point…

Sandy Barr was as tough a man as I ever met. To take what life threw at him and keep going would have broken just about anyone else.

Sandy Barr was the best.

I wrestled him numerous times in Portland. They weren’t four star matches. Hell, they weren’t even one star matches, but we had a blast. He was 50 years old, hell he might have been 60 for all we knew, but he was in the same shape and he looked exactly the same as he did at 40 . . . and 30 … and 20. He showed me pictures to prove it. Only difference was the hair color, but definitely not the hairstyle.

We had our own special rapport, he thought I could draw, and I was convinced he looked like Moe on the Three Stooges. I would wear my “Just Say Moe” shirt on TV, with a picture of Moe on it, and he would be amused, or pretend to be, or…it didn’t matter. He always made me feel special, which contrary to my image, I didn’t always feel. He was just one of the sweetest, dearest, kindest, even-tempered, give you the shirt off his back, never a harsh word for anyone, kind of guys I’ve ever met. Unfortunately, instead of being rewarded for that, he was given a streak of bad beats that no parent should ever have to live through. There has never been a person on planet earth who less deserved the run of shit that Sandy Barr lived through. Between his son, Art’s, tragic death, to, let’s just say, it’s a laundry list from hell, only Sandy could have made it through with such class and dignity. If you knew him you’ll agree, if you didn’t, you missed out.

Sandy was the best.

This next part was supposed to go up two weeks ago, but hey, better late than . . . . really late (?)

Moderators, this is my site, named after me. It is also Vic’s site, but once again, it’s named after me. Therefore, how dare you kill a thread without the express written consent of Major League Baseball, or of course, me. I just said I’m anti-censorship and some yutzes decide they’re in charge. Aaarrgghh! I will marinate them and their little dog Toto’s brains in oatmeal and feed it to their grandmothers as morning mush. Give a little power and they think they’re Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge.
Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge were grade A, number one with a bullet to the back of your head, pussies. Ironically, the exact opposite of what was discussed. See, it’s just like a Seinfeld episode where everything ties together at the end, except without a puffy shirt, or Newman, or the funny. And maybe you learned a little something, but I’m betting against. I mean come on, I didn’t learn a thing.
The only censoring that will occur is if someone is lying for personal gain, or to inflict pain, or if I feel like it . . . bwahahahahaha. Mainly it will occur if something is completely irresponsible, like yelling “fire” in a crowded theater. Or, “Shark”, at the beach, or perhaps …. in front of James Woods. Or, something extremely offensive to my family for no apparent reason. However, if it’s got a point, justify it and we’ll see, but those times hopefully, will be few and far between. I know the moderators meant well and that I can always forgive.

The Boss . . . fucking up communists since Joe McCarthy sucked dick . . . or was that Roy Cohn? Eh, who gives a shit, they’re both a couple of assholes.

<< back to top | comment on entry | archived blogs


Powered by Disqus
BACK TO MAIN BLOG PAGE | BACK TO THERAVENEFFECT.COM MAIN PAGE



TheRavenEffect.com | The Official Website of Pro-Wrestling Superstar Raven | Booking Info
Site Content © Copyright 2014 Raven. All Rights Reserved. All other trademarks, logos & copyrights are the property of their respective owners.
Add Raven on Facebook | YouTube | Twitter | Sitemap: Info | Media | Schedule | Blog Site Designed & Developed by VictorMoreno.com.