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September 2005 | June 2005 | March 2005 | February 2005 | |
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September 5, 2005 |
Raven’s Log | Stardate: Whatever the date is.
Yeah yeah yeah, I know it’s late. Sure, it’s only been 3 months since the last journal entry, but better late than never … I think!?!
The winner of the Ms. Raven Effect contest is … First, I have to make a point. This was a monumental flop. You people are mad at me for not announcing a winner in forever, but, that’s what you get for not competing as aggressively as you should’ve. Here was the perfect opportunity for me to be a sleazy perv and ogle pictures of hot, preferably naked, women or, and the ‘or’ is important, to ogle women as more than just sex objects, but as intelligent creative visions of originality. You people chose to participate in much much smaller numbers and since you competed so poorly, I have put just as little effort in deciding the winner. Let me rephrase that, I picked the winner months ago, I decided to put as little effort as you did into letting you know who won. I decided to show as much or as little interest as I presumed that you gave it. So, nyah nyah nyah nyah. See, the ones who did the work were forced to suffer due to everyone else who didn’t do the work.
For every girl out there who thinks they know me, you really don’t. You get journal entries and the occasional interview but you don’t know me. You all believe I’m only fascinated by hot naked women (who wouldn’t be) but, without intelligence, creativity and humor, I am only stimulated for the very short term. And that is why envy’s piece was so fantastic and why she’s one of the co-winners. For anyone who hasn’t read it, Vic will provide a link. My other co-winner, Cangothuk, sent the most amazing original photos that showed drama, art and tasteful nudity. I would show her pics if she’d let me, but somehow I believe they’re for my eyes only. Its amazing to me that all you people are so self conscious (actually that’s not that amazing). What is also amazing is your unbelievably snobbiness towards others who aren’t self conscious. Like they should be penalized for either not having baggage or rising above said baggage. This site should be populated by people who aren’t afraid to blaze their own path and who don’t care what others think. Yet, it seems the ones who don’t care what others think are always being shit on by those who say they are above that. Case in point, some people jumped all over my banging whores and the whores themselves. Why? If thats what I want to do and thats what they want to do, God bless ‘em. By calling these women ‘whores,’ I never specify if I just meant sluts or actual professionals (I meant sluts). But, if you are offended by that verbiage, when I never singled you out, then obviously I hit a nerve. As Sinnaya said, “If somebody felt offended when Raven called women that he is banging whores, then that means you are identifying yourself with that sort of woman. Nobody called you whores. If its bothering you so much, it means that you took it personally (I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings by this, but maybe) you have some points in common with them.” As Angry Chairr, goes on to defend whores as the backbone of government, “I’m ashamed any of you would want to disparage their good (albeit fake) names.” Hear hear! Evenflowed wrote, “Whores are the glue that hold together the gears of our society. And girlcreeture responded rather brilliantly “Really, I think the glue comes from somewhere else.” Ba-zing! Ultimately, (besides my last journal entry obviously being tongue and cheek) I have nothing but the utmost respect for women who sleep around. I use the word whores because that is the most descriptive term. If men can do it, why can’t women? They have the balls to do what they want, regardless of what society thinks or how badly it condemns them. I would be a hypocrite if I said its ok for men to sleep around and not women and I will never be a hypocrite. It shows a lot more sack to be a whore than to make fun of one because you’re too scared society will mock you for fulfilling your sexual needs. Of course, some women choose not to sleep around at all because they just don’t feel like it which is completely fine too and obviously this portion is not addressed to you.
Odds and Ends
A/V Club. Brotherhood of the Wolf DVD. Phenomenal. A great example of storytelling with drama, emotion, originality and Matrix-like highspots.
Someone for some reason sent me some pictures of our posters and I guess he was sending me only the hot ones or some of the hot ones or whatever. But I thought that skadi, mir8lle, girlcreeture, Fantastic Terror, Deathangel 557 and sidd tripp were super hot, now this is not an all inclusive list, this is just a bunch of random pictures somebody had sent me. I am amazed that none of you entered my contest. Or if you did, I can’t remember it. because the contest started so long ago. Also I would like to see sidd tripp’s holy grail movie.
For those upset at ECW Hardcore Homecoming that I didn’t stay longer for the Q and A, well, I’m sorry but if that’s not good enough, tough titties, because:
A) I came out after the last match and signed for an hour against the back wall.
B) Nobody told me there was a Q and A until that night during the show and that is when they were telling me that it was cancelled. This is how the conversation transpired.
Them: “Hey, the Q and A was cancelled”
Me: “What Q and A?”
Them: “The one after the show.”
Me: “So, I gotta do a Q and A?”
Them: “No, its cancelled.”
Me: “O O O-kay?”
C) I was exhausted, beat up, tired and had nothing left.
Some people were mad I wouldn’t take a photo with them. First of all, if I take a photo with one, I’d have to take one with everyone and that includes every moron who can’t or doesn’t know how to work their camera. That includes everyone who wants me to hold something or sign something in a particular marker color, not the marker color I have in my hand. It also includes everyone trying to squeeze in next to me when there is no room or table between us. Smaller show - no problem. That big a crowd, that many people wanting pictures - grow up. If I have a limited time, a chance to sign x amount of autographs or only take a small percentage of x amount of pictures, I would rather accommodate more people. Besides, I don’t even actually have to come out if I don’t want to. I do it for 2 reasons.
1) To sell stuff. Hey, I am trying to make a living here. And …
2) because I like seeing the joy it gives people.
But, have a little respect, people. What we do in the ring hurts. Its tiring,. Coupled with the travel, it’s exhausting and, bottom line, it is a job. I guarantee that if a couple of hundred people show up after your job ended and wanted you to sign autographs and take pictures, (even if you were making money) that it would get old real fucking quick. Also remember, I’m just a flawed human being like you, if not more flawed, so sorry if I show human emotions. Remember, there is a very good reason why I am still in therapy.
Working stiff rant: I hear the boys say all the time, ‘Ooh, let’s work stiff.’ What a bunch of marks. Anybody can hit somebody for real. There is no art in that. The art in this business is to make it look as real as possible without actually hurting the other guy. Although impressive that people can take punishment, there is not one iota of art to it. This is an artform. I love Rhino’s stuff: it looks stiff as hell, but doesn’t hurt a bit. That is what we should all aspire to.
Charlie Luciano, hang in there, I’m proud of you.
P.S. Eventually, I will give out the prizes for the Ms. Raven Effect contest, except it’s been so long I forgot what they are. Vic will remind me I’m sure and I will definitely get around to it sooner or later.
P.P.S. Sorry to anyone who hasn’t received their merchandise yet. We had a major backup and somebody got fired. So I want to give everyone a heads up. Any merchandise that hasn’t been sent out yet will be sent out soon. And expect on future orders a good 2 -3 months between ordering it and receiving it. I’m working on finding someone that will get it done in a shorter time, but well see how that goes.
P.P.P.S. Sorry I took so long to get this journal entry out, but I blame my ADD for it. I was gonna call it ADHD, but that takes too long.
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June 9, 2005 |
Raven's Log | Stardate: 6.9.05
Time flies when you're too lazy to write
Yeah, yeah, I know its been a while. Remember, how I said I wasnt going to fall behind anymore? Well, who told you to believe everything you read? In fact, the only thing that got me off my lazy keister and writing is the blog from Joey Styles commenting on my crucifixion angle. See, I'm not lazy when it comes to things I want to do, but I'm really not a big fan of writing or else I would've done so much more than just one comic book in that field. For some reason, I just don't find writing to be all that fun, which is kind of sad because its one of my 3 best skills. My two other best skills I actually enjoy that is if movie/TV watching and banging whores count as skills. Because then I've got three mad crazy skills. However, unless I'm hired as a Nielsen family or a gigolo, the only lucrative one is the one I don't enjoy doing. Some other skills include, but are not limited to, being late, not getting enough sleep and conversely sleeping 10 hours a night, as well as not hitting the seat while urinating, flatulence, both lengthy and loud, blowing my nose while eating, making fun of Disco, poor handwriting, reading comics at Waffle House, bragging about my IQ and cock size, both very large as well as other esoterica I don't believe I can make a living from. And last but not least, starting projects I never finish, like guitar lessons, the A/V Club, the Ms. Raven Effect contest (which will be completed either at the end of this entry, because I already know who's won or the next one depending on how long this
There was a blog about Styles responding to an interview with me about the crucifixion angle. He said the apology was justified because I had horribly offended Christians and equated it to doing a bit where I tattooed numbers on The Sandman and marched him and all the babyfaces into a gas chamber. He said Paul claimed the idea was all mine, which it was. He also said it was tasteless and stupid, so I would like to respond. First, let me say that Joey Styles is a brilliant commentator and I would put him as one of my 4 all-time favorites, along with Gordon Solie, Jim Ross and Lance Russell. Secondly, if he is a man of integrity, he will continue to judge my work as objectively as I judge his, no matter how much I write in the following passages. Thirdly, I hope he doesn't break an ankle falling off his pedestal. Now, his initial point is that I was wrong in justifying the apology and later he decries me doing the angle at all, where actually that is two different points and shall be defended separately. First, for argument's sake, let's say the angle was a bad choice, which I don't remotely believe, but let's say it was. I still would have to maintain the apology was a poor choice: strictly because we were the rebel promotion. The fans knew and came to expect us to cross the line. They came to be entertained, aroused, enlivened and to see things the other two weren't doing, to put the art back into wrestling and to put the intelligence back into wrestling. They expected us to push the envelope and were upset if we didn't. By that reasoning alone, if we did push the envelope too far, the last thing they would want is for us to apologize for it. In fact, no matter how offended they potentially may have been, there is no way they would've wanted us to say, "Oops I'm sorry, we tried to be controversial and now we're sorry because we were too controversial." According to you, those assumptions would be incorrect. However, I'm reasonable enough to understand that that, is a point of contention neither of us can prove 100% accurately unless we poll our constituency, so let's take what the main thrust of your argument is, that we horribly offended Christians, and move onto that. First of all, you say it is tasteless and stupid, I maintain it is neither. The definition of stupid is something marked by a lack of intelligence or care; the angle wasnt. The angle was actually quite creative. My character has said time and time again that he is a martyr for society's dysfunction, and has, since day one, put his arms out in a Christ-like pose to symbolize this. By crucifying the Sandman, I was using artistic license, to literally make the Sandman feel as my character was feeling figuratively. I wasn't mocking Christ, there would be no point: he wasn't in my angle, nor did he have anything to do with it, other than symbolically. I assume that appropriating his iconography emblematically, to convey an artistic point, is probably light years less offensive than all the wars that Christians themselves have started in Jesus' name to "convert the heathens." I'm sure Christ himself would be much less offended by what I did artistically, than what some of the people have done in his name, by forcing entire societies of people to convert at gunpoint, at least I hope so. This is merely an assumption by me. To quote a friend, Vic, who has a double B.A. in English Lit and History from UCLA and is now currently going to law school at Arizona State University, "the use of religious imagery as allegory or metaphor is common in art and culture" and comparing it to a Holocaust bit, Styles' analogy doesnt hold up at all. "There is a difference between appropriating religious iconography/symbolism to draw a point and re-enacting historical events for the purpose of being offensive." I wasn't trying to offend Christians. I was trying to offend Sandman fans. Martin Scorsese wasn't trying to offend when he made "The Last Temptation of Christ," nor was Kevin Smith in "Dogma," but thats not what church higher ups chose to believe even after admitting that they had not seen the films. If you missed my point or didn't look for it or it wasn't obvious enough for you, then I feel bad. But this had nothing to do with insulting Christians, and I didn't feel I should have to apologize for my artistic choice. I don't feel Baron Von Raschke owes me an apology, for a choice he made, to play a Nazi, even though I'm Jewish. If I would've thought that artistically there was material in a bit similar to your Holocaust idea, I would've used it. To quote another friend, envy, "Comparing the crucifixion of Christ to the Holocaust is like comparing a banana to a pomegranate: it is assumptive, suppositionary, and irrelevant. It is also subjective and irresponsible." Not to come across too farcical, but even though Jesus died, he did come back: you can't say that for the Holocaust victims. Besides Jesus supposedly died for our sins, the Holocaust victims died for the whims of a madman. What irks me more than anything is your position, Joey Styles. You sit on your soapbox pontificating from your high and mighty perch, but if you were so offended, why didn't you quit right there instead of drawing a paycheck for the next five or so years? Why didnt you quit in the name of all Christians you claim were horribly offended. That doesn't sound like conviction to me. At least when I told newspapers and radio hosts I was sick of WCW and proceeded to bury them publically, I stuck to my convictions. So when Eric Bischoff called me on it, in front of a locker room and said, "If you're unhappy with the company, theres the door," I stuck to my guns and quit. It is well known Paul E., while not coming up with the angle, approved of it lock, stock and barrel. you may have deluded yourself into thinking Paul E. knew nothing about it, but if you were aware that he was in on it, I guess your righteous anger only applies when money doesn't change hands. Furthermore, I may have used religious imagery iconography to convey a point that sadly you missed, but at least I'm not using the Lord's name in vain as a catch phrase. I don't know how many times a show you yell, "Oh My God!" for something as trivial and mundane as a high spot. Hey, personally, it doesn't offend me, I could care less, but it sounds slightly hypocritical to me, and the three Christian pastors I actually went to see upon writing this response agreed as well. Ultimately, we'll see what kind of conviction you really have. You have buried and lambasted the WWE for so long, even going so far as stating on November 1, 2004 concerning the Hassan/Daivari/9-11 angle that, "I sincerely hope this latest tasteless attempt to capitalize on the worst tragedy in American history backfires in disastrous proportions on WWE. I strongly encourage any WWE stockholders who find this desperate attempt at ratings as offensive as I do to sell their stock immediately." But with the ECW PPV, do you still hope people sell their stock? And, by inference, if you want people to sell their stock, would you want people to not order the ppv as well? Or would you? Since you are going to be on it! Joey Styles, what a brilliant tactic! You must be appearing on the live show to publically tell everyone to sell their stock! Then again, maybe you wont be on it. Maybe you'll stand by your convictions since WWE never apologized for the UnAmericans response to 9-11 because in a quote you say, "I will never forget everything I saw on September 11, 2001 and I will never forget that WWE saw the worst tragedy in American history as fodder for a pro wrestling promo. WWE never apologized for the promo. My anger towards WWE is justified." Joey Styles, if I personally found things as offensive as you and publically proclaimed it, I don't know if I'd be able to look in a mirror if I worked for that company. I claim to be a man of conviction and I stand by my beliefs, just as you claim to. So I guess if we see you at the ECW PPV working for the WWE, we'll know where your convictions lie, right near your wallet. Just like all those years ago with the crucifixion angle.
- Scott Levy
View the original Joey Styles piece by clicking here
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April 19, 2005 | April 12, 2005 | April 1, 2005 |
Raven's Log | Stardate whatever today is
Mars needs women
As of now, the contest is proceeding nicely and we have 2 strong frontrunners. Contrary to popular belief, it's not strictly about beauty. Its also about creativity and ingenuity, although, let's be honest, you're really a dark horse candidate if you don't find a way to make yourself sexually attractive. That may sound harsh, but then my sister could enter the contest if she was creative and ingenious and that would be wrong on so many levels.
The problem with most women is they fail to realize that there's always something sexually attractive about them. They're just too busy being insecure to find out what it is. There's beauty in flaw and imperfection. To use one of my favorite quotes, "scars are souvenirs you never lose."
So, instead of looking at your faults as faults, hide them and accentuate the strengths, much like Paul E. booked The Public Enemy. The world thought they were the single greatest tag team, but then opinions changed once they left ECW. Everyone is attractive in their own way, well, most everyone. I'm certainly not gonna bang whatever her name is from The Drew Carey Show, although, Drew Carey does owe me a favor because I saved him from Kane at the 2001 Royal Rumble. In fact, I tried to get him to book me on Who's Line Is It Anyway and the fat four-eyed bastard shot me down. So, whatever it was I said here today, blah blah blah blah blah.
I will have revenge on Drew Carey. Oh yes, I will.
P.S. Remember now, children, nobody has to enjoy what I like. I write it for me. So, if somebody decides they don't like it, there is no need to trash them unless you do it in a really clever, compelling entertaining way. Pettiness is only fun when it's funny. Although, how anyone could not have enjoyed the envy article is beyond me. In fact, between that and her pictures, she's one of the two front runners.
Raven's Log | Whatever the fuck today is
I've got nothing for the opening coda.
After exhausting myself typing the last entry and reducing my hand to a near arthritic state, I've chosen to allow envy, unbeknownst to her, to give this month's sermon. On a side note, once again, merchandise is delayed, but it will be going out presently. Take it away, envy:
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ms. raven effect 2005... the call back the pageantry... the splendor... by envy with contributions by Coribella, Hendrix, KittyKatt, nashfan, Ravenz_Gyrl & shegoesgothica. Mine was a window seat. I would have 12 wretched hours on this train to aimlessly stare at the netherworld of vacant farmland as my mind wandered off into the classic rock fog that would be tunneling into my brain from my trusty cd player... were it not for Ryan Adams, I would have never bothered to learn how to burn cds; man, what a saint, and yes, “I still love you, New York...” I was on my way to Tarkio, Missouri, of all places. Why Tarkio? Yes, I had wondered that myself, and then, well, I had bothered to look it up on mapquest. Tarkio was approximately in the center of the United States; at least on the map that I had looked at... or maybe it had something to do with Brewer and Shipley? You know, the folk duo that penned and recorded “One Toke Over the Line” — their only hit, which just happened to have been released on an album called “Tarkio”. They say that Tarkio is a Native American word meaning “walnut”. Uhmn, yeah... Anyway, I was riding the Amtrak enroute to the Big T Motel (Junction Highway 136, Tarkio, MO, 64491, 1-660-736-4174) for the Ms. Raven Effect 2005 Pageant. To answer the question you just posed: no, I’m not fucking kidding you. The postcard had arrived in the mail a week ago. Mine was all bent up, and well, lying on the table under the fifteenth Spring Planting 2005 catalog that Dutch Gardens has sent me in the past month... crimony, I already ordered fifty some-odd dollars worth of stuff from them... Yeah, so anyway, there was the postcard on the bottom of the endless gardening catalog pile. It was a classic VMO production. You know, that 1980’s punk graphic black and white iconography juxtaposed with Old English imitation font which is kind of hard to read. Of course, it was regarding my submission to the Ms. Raven Effect 2005 Beauty Contest. All applicants were invited to (at their own expense) come to the Big T Motel in Tarkio, Missouri, for a more formal and conclusive beauty pageant. At first I chuckled at the idea as I flipped through my new Dutch Gardens catalog, wondering if the only thing that was different about this catalog was indeed the graphic on the cover... Picasso calla lilies this time in place of Manhattan poppies... but then I thought to myself, there was that commercial on the USA network about X percentage of American workers piddling away their lives at work and never taking vacations (for Universal Studios, isn’t it? hmmn...) And I thought, hey, fuck the man—I went to art school—why let my dead end job kill my sense of—fucktheman... I know I’m not going to win, but, man, fuck the man... crap, I’m going to have to get someone to feed the fish while I’m gone... So, I left a fluorescent pink post-it note with “FEED CYRUS! once daily” on the fish bowl with the jar of fish food — that has now outlasted two fish (R.I.P. Zeke & Azrael) and is currently on it’s third — sitting front and center, packed my bag, and here I am... on the train... to Tarkio... I can feel the cold of the 25˚ weather coming off the window of the train... the expected high is 40˚. Man, Tarkio is one cold-ass place to be having a beauty pageant. I guess the nipple action should be pretty damned good. The train stops, somewhere, I have no fucking idea where I am (I believe I am in Lincoln, Nebraska), just that I have to get a rental car. It’s a good thing that I turned 25 last year and finally bothered to get a credit card or this would be fucking impossible... so, I need to get on I-29 going South... and then take the US-136 exit NO. 110 toward Rock Port and Phelps City... going west... Yeah, wow, do the radio stations suck out here... fuck... it’s a good thing I have a lot of batteries... Holy Shit! They have a Pamida! Oh my fucking god... they have a Pamida... I wonder if it is as low-rent as the one in my home town... okay, so the Big T Motel... oh lord, it’s an extended ranch-style one story dealio with bright phosphorescent green siding... holy crapcakes, batman. I’ve got to get a picture of this... The motel room was standard fare... do I really need to describe what a rundown motel room in an economically depressed area looks like? C’mon, you can look up the census info... Tarkio is a farm-hick whitebread town with a median income under $30,000.00 a year... this is not the Chateau Marmot... Belushi would not have been caught fishing in this town, let alone dead... As per the handwritten instructions on the follow-up postcard, I awaited the 7:40 am knock at the door. Sure enough, at 8:03 am there was a knock at the door. “Whew, thank god this is the last one,” the Disco Inferno muttered as I opened the door. “envy!” he announced enthusiastically as he read my forum screen name off of a 3 X 5 note card. “Uhmn, yeah,” said I. I could feel the blush rising to my cheeks. Goddamn psychosomatic involuntary reflexes... “I was wondering...” I said in a slow drawl as I fingered the lens cap of my camera. Disco gave me a weird look. “...if I could get you to pose for a photo.” “Uh... sure,” Disco shrugged. “Great, I just need to get something... by the way, you do have some car keys on you, right?” “Yeah, how the hell do you think we’re going to get to the secluded barn on the outskirts of town?” “Good,” I said, grabbing the articles necessary for the shoot. “What exactly is it that—” Disco began to ask. “I need you to stick the car keys halfway in your pocket... Good. Now, with you right hand — the other right hand — hold this issue of Cosmopolitan magazine... and take this frappacino with your left...” “It’s flat.” The Disco Inferno pointed out. “That’s because I bought it in Lincoln, Nebraska... oddly enough there isn’t a Starbucks out here in Tarkio, Missouri...” I explained as I checked the shutter speed and flash test on the camera. “Oh... At least it’s mocha...” “Okay, now I just need you to turn towards the car and fumble for the keys in your pocket... yeah, keep holding the magazine and the drink...” I instructed as I made sure everything was in focus. “Like this?” “Perfect... just hold that like that for another couple of seconds...” (click...jjjurvk... click... jjjurvk.) “Just one more...” (click...jjjurvk). “Great, thanks... and as a token of my appreciation—” I handed the Disco Inferno a congratulatory 3-pack of Otis Spunkmeyer blueberry cheesecake muffins and a bottle of Corona... Once in the car it was awkward post-paparazzi-bliss conversation time... “So, Raven tells me that you enjoyed ‘Disgraceland’?” “Uhmn, yeah... well, the theme music actually... and well, the idea... not so much the actual wrestling... but the sentiment of the performance...” I muttered half-coherently as I gazed dreamily at the Disco Inferno’s profile as he stared ahead at the road, his eyes darting from side to side, presumably to check for deer... “What the hell took you so long?” A backlit figure called from the opening in the barn door as we pulled up in Disco’s 2002 hunter green Ford Taurus rental. Disco simply laughed as he got out of the car. “She got you to take the damned picture, didn’t she?” Raven mused in mock anger as he glanced at his wrist as if to indicate an imposition of time. Disco shrugged, handing Raven the 3X5 note card with my name on it, and then wandered into the barn with his plunder. “envy,” said Raven having read the note card, giving me the once over and letting out facetious maniacal laughter, “so, where the hell was my showering of love and patronizing praise in Belleville? Cori and Tiesha managed to show up in New York to bask in my eternal glory and manliness — to shower me with love and affection and otherwise stroke my enormous ego, where the hell were you, slacker?” “I’m shy... it’s part of my charm,” I said, knowing full well that I had considered saying seventeen other things back when I had been thinking about the fact that this face to face moment was going to occur... but that had been on my drive to the hotel, and well, I have no nerve or ability to stick to the script. Raven rolled his eyes, shook his head, and shut the barn door behind me. I was handed one of those “hello, my name is” stickers. “ee cummings that, would you,” said I to the guy dressed in the druid costume with the sharpie marker. The Druid cocked his head. “All lower-case letters... e - n - v - y.” Apparently no one else ever came across ee cummings and his experiments in typography, syntax, and punctuation in the twelfth grade... or bothered to remember it... “Raven is allergic to shellfish, pass it on.” The Druid whispered to me as he applied the name tag to my left breast, copping a feel as he did so. That Druid sounded an awful lot like Erik Watts... The Druid then pointed off into the distance at a bale of hay on which a cluster of girls were gathered. Hendrix, Smaddy and Ravenz_Gyrl were the only ones I actually recognized (and only on the basis of recently posted photos and avatars...). Upon closer inspection I discovered Coribella, TIESHA, nashfan, KittyKatt, edgecrusher, ravens_shadow, and shegoesgothica, along with a bunch of other stripper-looking chicks whose names I did not recognize. “Wow, I thought this was beneath you,” I mentioned as I sat down next to the flaxen-haired Ravenz_Gyrl. “That was just a clever ploy on my part. Had you all known I was entering — none of you would have bothered to send in your photos.” she laughed as she played with a strand of her blonde hair which dazzled in an arrant ray of light. And on some level, I’m sure I knew she was right. She was one fucking hot looking chick. It’s not fair, I tell you; I cry fowl... damned Dutch ancestors... and their bastard genes for baby-fine curly hair... which doesn’t sparkle and glisten in the sun... “These are all strippers, huh?” was my retort which came an eternity later. “Ah, some of them are rats.” the Gyrl sneered. “Are there really still rats? I mean it doesn’t seem like there are any actual territories left?” Hey, I was trying to make conversation, work with me. “Yes, those are definitely rats... rats rats rats!” Interjected Coribella as she and TIESHA made some less than flattering facials at all these chicks I didn’t recognize. “Uhmn, yeah...” I muttered quite softly to myself as I felt a wave of pre-headache dizziness hit me... either that or some tick with Lyme disease had bitten my sitting-on-a-clump-of-hay ass and it was starting to kick in. Cori, nashfan, and TIESHA began chattering, and I kind of drifted off into the mental fog of why-the-fuck-did-I-come-here? Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? I could be at home right now painting or watching some god awful movie on cable that I’ve seen four hundred and three times... What the hell is it that propelled me to get on a train and ride some quantity of space across the country to come to some low rent motel in podunk-the-middle-of-nowhere-ville? What the hell was I thinking? Seriously? And why does anyone think anyone else wants to sit on hay or straw or whatever the hell this is? Something keeps poking me... Obviously my Disco Inferno photo-op high had dissipated. An eternity later the proceedings began. “Ladies, ladies — girls. Hey, no cat-fighting, save that for later in the talent show... or make sure that you’re in range of Sapolsky’s camera flunkies.” Said Raven from his position in the center of a banquet table, laughing at his own banter. “Now, everyone line up for your turn at the changing area... and no, even though we should have rigged it up, there are no cameras in the stalls. So, you will not be filmed as you strip to all of your naked glory to put on swim wear for my entertainment... although you should have been... also for my entertainment...” The swimsuit competition was to be first. Each of us had been instructed to bring a swimsuit and a robe of some sort; presumably so that this could be kind of like one of those awful WWE swimsuit competitions. I was starting to feel nauseous. Why had I come here? Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? Why did I enter this contest? Are they putting LSD in my water? I owned neither a swimsuit or a robe, so, of course, I had to go out and buy this shit... and there’s nothing like shopping for a swimsuit at the end of February... people look at you like you’re bat-shit insane. The swimsuit had been the most annoying acquisition conceptually. I don’t swim... ergo I don’t own a swimsuit... and then I actually took the time to think about how absurd I wanted this to be... and then I had to make that relevant to my figure... let’s face it, I’m not anorexic. In the vain of I think the historical notion of Syd Barrett having been so gorged out of his mind on psychedelics that during a performance in concert he detuned his guitar on stage is a hysterically amusing notion — I had considered wearing something silly and just walking out there with a bathing suit on a hanger. I mean, hell, I have no designs as far as winning by conventional means is concerned, let alone at winning... So, there we sat all covered up in various styles of robes, again on the prickliest and most uncomfortable bales of hay as the competition was to begin... The setup was then unveiled: the contestant was to walk across a stretch of barn that had been done up like the floor of a stage, climb the steps of one of those kiddie playground ladders and then plunge into one of those clear-plastic see-thru carnie-style dunk tanks, which was about half full with water, and set up awful damned close to the judging table. In spite of my why-the-fuck-am-I-doing-this feelings of awful, I believe I was the only one who sincerely giggled when this contraption was unveiled. “Okay ladies,” Raven cackled over the intercom, “when I call your name, you come up to the X on the floor over there. When the music hits, you disrobe and walk, sashay, saunter -- whatever -- over to the slide, climb up and jump in the pool. Disco will be waiting with a towel... or do the rest of the thing wet...” And so, the pageantry began. The first girl up was some stripper that I was too busy giggling over the introduction of to catch her name. She looked reminiscent of one of those chicks from the phone sex lines that are advertised relentlessly in the middle of the night. Anyway, hers was a shiny gold brazilian cut bikini, which we all discovered as Eddie Money’s “Walk on Water” blared over the loud speaker and she disrobed... so cheesy, so late eighties / early nineties pop rock... just like a stripper anthem... dear god... anyway, she danced her way over to the slide and well, I think you get the gist... Raven sat approvingly at the table with a pile of note cards and a pen before him... surely there was some sort of ratings system. So, there were a lot of stripper looking chicks... you know, somebody made themselves a little ditty out of bottle caps and dental floss, there was a menagerie of JC Penney looking fare, from fluorescent pink spaghetti straps to Hawaiian print, to print on the front and black in the back numbers... Coribella wore one of those 1920’s-ish looking numbers, full-on black and white stripes and all... Hendrix went for the understated simplicity of a black one-piece with a photograph of Martha Stewart affixed to the front with a safety pin. Before sliding into the pool she carefully folded the Martha Stewart pic into an airplane and sailed it off in Raven’s general direction... KittyKatt was more daring with her skin-baring thong bikini, which, of course, was well received by our judge... nashfan was slightly more conservative with her iridescent purple Brazilian cut bikini, but likewise well received, and the body glitter was an added bonus... Ravenz_Gyrl went for a black one-piece, which had “Golden Palace.com” written on the back (which was later explained to me as being an homage to the women of Carmen Electra’s Naked Women’s Wrestling League), and, of course, was likewise well received... shegoesgothica would have stolen my thunder, had I not caved in to the whim of actually acquiring a bathing suit, as she went out wearing a little black dress with silver accessories and displayed a distinct lack of conformity by refusing to slide into the pool... she did climb the steps of the ladder, only to climb back down, bow, and walk off... I was last, I’m always last, so, this wasn’t really a huge surprise or hulkering disappointment... but I was distinctly beginning to wane on the idea of hearing Eddie Money one more time... it was one of those things that had been funny the first 10 or 12 times, but now 20 times later was seeming like overkill... or like Celine Dion... whichever... “envy.” My name crackled over the loud speaker, and I could feel the fear and anxiety tightening in the back of my neck and shoulders as a cold rush hit my head. I was wishing, somehow, that I would just faint and wake up in the hospital or some skeezy motel room or in the woods or something three days later... but no such luck... I’ve never been able to faint on cue, let alone faint... One last sigh and roll of the eyes as I stepped on the X and Eddie Money came blaring over the speakers with “Walk on Water”. Okay, one more sigh... fortunately, there was a light behind Raven, so, his face was obscured in a blinding silhouette. My post-Valentine’s day clearance rack $4.00 red and black lacy robe slid neatly off my shoulders and fell to the floor. It clashed very nicely with my periwinkle colored throwback swimsuit. It was one of those retro kind of dealios, with the horizontal layering on the delineated bust and flat fabric everywhere else, spaghetti straps and all... it looked like it stepped right out of some awful 1950’s beach movie... I shrugged, sneered, sighed one more time, and proceeded to the slide... Jesus Christ, I haven’t been on a slide since I was 12... man, that was 13 years ago... Atop the slide I paused for a moment and considered the absurdity of the moment, bad strip-club pop rock, stripper looking girls, not-so stripper looking girls, fat girls, skinny girls, pretty girls... and me, and this dirty water... this dirty water... let’s just say it wasn’t exactly clear, with body glitter floating in it... sequins sunk to the bottom... I sighed, and surely rolled my eyes one last time... here goes nothing... ...and cold... oh my teeth-chattering-jesus-mother-fucker cold... “O-o-oh m-my f-f-fucking god-d-d, I’m-m g-g-going to freez-z-ze to d-d-death...” my teeth chattered as the Disco Inferno handed me a large white towel monogramed with the Radison logo... “I’m almost surprised,” said Ravenz_Gyrl as I shivered in the line for the changing stall (which was a bed sheet strung up on wire). “A-about what?” I stammered through chattering teeth. “I thought you’d do something weird... I don’t know like a plastic bag or something made out of seaweed and fishing net... we actually had bets... the over-under was leaning towards a sea theme... I just lost three dollars.” “Sorry.” Ten minutes later it was time for the talent competition. As the Disco Inferno explained (this was read from a series of 3X5 note cards which he tossed over his shoulder ala David Letterman with the Top Ten cards) we had been divided into groups on the basis of our talents... or, in other words, all the people using the stripper poll would be going first, and then the stage would be cleared for the rest of us. So, everyone was re-situated as it related to their talents... and I had a feeling I was last, again. Those using the stripper poll went first. There was some Whitesnake, there was some Warrant, there was some bad techno music, there were nipple tassels, there were school girl outfits, there were riding crops and S & M costumes... and there was KittyKatt, who showed off her skills as a trained dancer, stripping to Faith No More’s “Epic”. Her imitation of a fish out of water was both priceless and quite erotic. Next was all other dancing not involving a pole or stripping. To the credit of multiculturalism, there was actually a Hawaiian chick who showed up who did some hula dancing. Some other girl showed off her break-dancing skills, and there was an aerobics instructor who got the Disco Inferno to come up on the stage and do a step routine with her to the tune of an Olivia Newton John song... nashfan did a bang up job with her flaming baton routine... I was impressed, I’m telling you, I have never actually seen a flaming baton routine before... Next up were people with musical talents. I believe we Ms. Raven Effect contestants put the casting specials of American Idol to shame. Oh my god was some of that singing bad... that was bottom of the barrel rancid shit-sacking, baby! I’m glad I didn’t know any of those girls... oh my god, I’m going to have that fucking Britney Spears song stuck in my head now... Anyway, shegoesgothica, still dressed in her little black dress from earlier played the guitar, and damn, she was good. Like Charo-good, but not playing flamenco music... I wish I could read notes... but I’d also like to win the lotto... I’ve got to work on parring down my list of unrealistic goals... as Pink Floyd says: “envy is the bond between the hopeful and the damned”... Then it was time for what was kindly termed “performance art”. I shit you not, there was actually a mime... damn I wish I’d thought of that! Hendrix, damn her creative mind! For Hendrix an easy-bake® oven on a roller cart was wheeled out, and she proceeded to dance and sing along with the “Macarana” as she baked cookies. Motherfucker! I have no chance! How can I compete with baked goods and singing and dancing? Damn it all... Coribella then screwed me... well, that’s being ridiculously and ricoculously harsh, but, when we get to my “talent”, you’ll see why I felt so jaded and plundered... Hey, I’m egotistical and self-centered damn it... Anyway, Coribella was old school all the way... so far back, in fact, that this could have possibly been construed as feminism if it wasn’t such a wink-wink bit of naughty fun... Coribella (damn her thunder-stealing ass... I mean that lovingly, of course) did her impersonation of Andy Kaufman reading The Great Gatsby. Nothing could have crushed my bleak dark horse hope of winning more than having the essence of my “talent” already done... motherfucker will I come across as a retread... Anyway, I had some time to chill the fuck out and forget about my gaping inevitable loss as Ravenz_Gyrl was next up. Ravenz_Gyrl walked up to the house mic, she had one hand behind her back, and in a stunning display of acting (timid, that is) she grabbed the mic and let it screech with feed back. She cleared her throat and announced that she was straight edge, which meant that she was better than everyone else. That she does not believe in promiscuous sex. She then removed her hand from behind her back, and the spotlight shone so glaringly on the cucumber that she held in her hand. “This is a brand new, fresh from the produce section of the local Tarkio Missouri Hy-Vee cucumber...” she then proceeded to give the cucumber head. After 5 seconds of this she stopped and announced that: “I would use a condom, but I know where my cucumber has been, and it is my best friend.” She then deep-throated the cucumber. OhMyFuckingGod! That was fucking brilliant, god damn it, it’s not fair... I have to follow that? And, yes, I had to follow that... “envy.” So, most of the eyes in the room were on me, it’s not exactly like you can get girls to stop being catty and force them to focus or something. It’s a third of the way over... at least that’s what I told myself as I walked on the stage, carrying a single sheet of square white paper over to the microphone. “If I explained my talent... well, that would ruin it. You know, like how a joke isn’t funny anymore if you have to explain the punch line... so, you either get it, or you don’t...” I then stood on stage and recited Don McLean’s “American Pie” from memory as I folded an origami crane from memory... I was quite proud of my ability to confuse and diffuse the excitement of the room. Next up was the “short dissertation on what you would do with the title of Ms. Raven Effect 2005” portion of the contest. There were, of course, the usual responses: world peace, betterment of the community, save animals, save the environment, save the planet, inspire little girls... The hula dancer promised to spread her native culture... The aerobics instructor pledged to make us all more fit... so, anyway, the honor roll: nashfan asserted some mixed feelings. She was torn between “using it to inspire other dorks from high school to show up all the cheerleader bitches.” Or possibly applying it in some meaningful way as far as animal welfare was concerned — particularly getting stray animals in shelters adopted and publicly promoting that people spay and neuter their pets... and perhaps the title could help land her in one of those tv spots with Bob Barker... shegoesgothica had a more universal approach akin to the superlative aspects of feminism. She declared that she would share the title with all her fellow tre.com forum females (sorry guys), and “relinquish all bragging rights.” shegoesgothica was modest enough to suggest that it would be questionable if she was awarded the title, I believe she said it was an “unfathomable” act, but that she would be honored nonetheless. Hendrix was more vague about what she would actually do with the title as it’s holder, but pledged to auction off the “glorious” prizes on ebay, giving all of the proceeds to animal-related charities. KittyKatt was a charmer with her dissertation. She offered to sleep with the title... and you know what she meant... “But really,” she said with with light laughter and a wink, “I’d plaster my pic all over the net with a sign saying ‘He likes me! He really really likes me!’”... Coribella was her usual snarky self, and, hallelujah!—she didn’t steal my thunder this time... Anyway, petty cattiness aside (it’s all in good fun), Coribella promised that, “What I would really like to do to help the world, is to make sure that every child, in every third world country, has an unlimited supply of automatic weaponry. Thank you.” She smiled, nodded, and waved to the crowd... Ravenz_Gyrl: “As Ms. Raven Effect 2005 I'd promise to be Raven's ultimate ring rat. I'd do things to him that he's never had in the 17 years of ring rats that have been handed down to him through generation to generation. I'd promise to only use my tongue ring on Raven's body and no other and also live in his backyard in a dog house and do house cleaning while he's gone. I also wish for world peace and wish the other ring rats the best while they are bouncing to hotels and purchasing gifts for their favorite wrestler at Linen's and Things to only have it returned days later...” (Evidently this last comment was an inside thing in that “some ring rats would constantly bitch about buying stuff for Stevie Richards and he'd return them to get the money”, at least that’s what Ravenz_Gyrl said.) When she was finished she erotically touched her breasts, licked her lips, winked, and blew Raven a kiss... And then, it was my turn... the end of the line... “envy.” This doesn’t get any easier, does it? Not even after my third call to the stage did my feelings of fear, anxiety, and apprehension subside... crimony. “What would I do with the title of Ms. Raven Effect 2005?” I sighed, and attempted to act relaxed. “Well... nothing. I mean, honestly, in the highly unlikely chance that I won it, well, I would assume that it would show up for some duration of time as my custom title or rank on the forum. I would still have no avatar, so, unless you’re going to post the pictures that I sent you -- then, only the people in this room will have any clue... so, yeah, I’m sure for like 3 days, if I won, the girls on the forum that didn’t come here would pepper me with fake congratulations which would eventually dissipate into petty jealously... but really, that’s it... well, and then the guys that post way too much -- like James Fiend, jesus christ have you created a monster, would pretend to act like I was hot or something... but really, when it comes down to it, it’s just a title, which is actually just an afterthought or rather excuse for you to either get a better idea of what all us girls look like, or to jack-off to the photos we sent you, so, it’s not really perfunctory, it’s just a nicety... so, I guess, if I won—what you thought I was done talking?—if I won, I’d be happy, I think, or tickled or touched, or something like that... not really proud, but like fulfilled...” That’s it... --- ms. raven effect 2005... the call back the pageantry... the splendor... the soundtrack: “New York, New York” — Ryan Adams from Gold, Lost Highway, © 2001. “One Toke Over the Line” — Brewer & Shipley from Tarkio, Kama Sutra Records, © 1970. “Down by the Water” — PJ Harvey from To Bring You My Love, Island Records, © 1995. “Photographs and Memories” — Jim Croce from You Don’t Mess Around With Jim, ABC Records, © 1972. “Walk on Water” — Eddie Money from Nothing to Lose, Sony, © 1990. “Epic” — Faith No More from The Real Thing, Warner Brothers, © 1989. “Green is the Colour” — Pink Floyd from More, Capitol, © 1969. “American Pie” — Don McLean from American Pie, Capitol Records, © 1971. “Miss World” — Hole from Live Through This, Geffon Records, © 1994. “Celebration Day” — Led Zeppelin from Led Zeppelin III, Atlantic, © 1970. |
Still nothing for the closing coda either.
P.S. Still taking last minute entries, the more exotic, interesting and nude the better.
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Raven would like to note that the preceeding account of the Ms. Raven Effect Pageant was a work of fiction. It didn't actually go down like that. Seriously. |
Raven's Log | Whatever the fuck today is
The contest finals are being pushed back because of lots of late entries, my exhausting but tremendous trip to the U.K., and resin8's 2nd point on pg. 9 of the responses to the journal entry, and shame on her for not reading the other posts, plus her first point is very contrary to the spirit of the contest or as Lynyrd Skynyrd said, "boo boo boo." However, Equilibrium is brilliant, which I mentioned ages ago as one of the year's best movies, whatever year I mentioned it. She tried to nick (British slang for robbery) my stuff. Egads, pilfered by someone who is trying to be a spoilsport on my well designed plans at getting hot chicks to send me pictures ... I mean, a way to reward my lovely and loyal listeners with a bogus ... I mean, well deserved title, phone call and perhaps even an ...
Raven, while typing this, all by himself with no help from Vic or adult supervision, passed out from sheer exhaustion at the arduous, and, some say, crippling task of typing over 3 sentences informed me upon awaking that ...
Apparently, the person helping Raven has been sacked and replaced by me. Who am I, you ask, well ...
i decided to sack him as well and, now, fully recuperated, plan to take a nap.
P.S. envy sent the most amazing letter and I would like to print it soon if she'll allow it, and if she doesn't, she will be sacked too, or, at least, she wont get me in the sack ... aww, who am i kidding? Her picture she enclosed was hot. However, we will need more pictures because of its head shot/close up type nature.
I typed this by myself, I typed this by myself, I typed this by myself nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.
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March 17, 2005 |
Raven's Log | Whatever the fuck today is
"That was Zen, This is Tao"
This journal entry is being written off the top of my head because I'm going to England for eleven days and I don't have time to write one, so Vic and I are just going to wing it. First off, you're a bunch of malcontents. How come we ain't getting no entries in our stupid contest? Here we go to all the trouble of having a lovely little contest and we are getting very few entries in it. Does no one want to be Ms. Raven Effect 2005? What's the matter? Aren't I good enough for you people? Whatever. I would like to thank Vrekasht for the lovely necklace she sent me and mod NineSixTwo for the picture and a special thanks to Lizzie for the autographed Page and Plant lyrics (not Diamond Dallas Page, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant). I shave, not wax and I get my nails done for five dollars at the Oriental nail salon across the street. I used to paint my nails myself; it was a time consuming laborious task, but I took pride in my lousy work. Of course, then I found out it was only a measly five bucks to get it done professionally and now I take pride in their work. Once again, you people have astounded me with phenomenal information. Much to my chagrin, Cocoa Puffs cannot actually be used as a lethal weapon. However, the article discussing this is beyond fascinating. Everyone should read it, the address is http://www.bayarea.net/~pvc/steve/puff.html and thank you Vrekasht for bringing it to my attention.
I thought envy said it best while watching the "One Night in Chyna" video, "Was that an oboe? Where did that clapping come from ... What backwoods crap is this?" or put even more succinctly by my close personal associate, Vic, "Bizarro camera angles, whips and cigarettes and off cue moaning -- sounds more like an experiment in Dadaist filmmaking."
For those of you who'd like me to discuss the ECW DVD, I shall. I thought that Paul Heyman's words throughout the DVD really explained the heart of the matter. His words for me were especially touching because I've always known how I felt about our relationship, but I never truly knew what he felt. In fact, we talked on the phone after I watched it for the first time in years and it was one of the more important phone calls I've had in my life. It finally gave me closure on one of the most important chapters of my career. Suffice to say, without Paul E. I couldn't have done what I did and vice versa, he feels the same way. It truly is a waste that they're not using him and more unfortunate for the fans that they're paying him enough to sit home instead of doing something else creatively in wrestling. I thought the DVD did as phenomenal a job as it possibly could have in the three hours or whatever the hell it was, I thought there was far too much Dudleyz and Tazz. However, since the Dudleyz and Tazz work for the WWE and Raven, Sabu and Shane Douglas don't, I guess I can see why. I didn't watch the second DVD of the matches because I've already seen 'em all. However, if someone can give me a good reason why I should rewatch them, perhaps I shall. In fact, someone said, there is a good alternate commentary with my all-time favorite sidekick, Stevie Richards (tied for first place with Lodi) or is there not? As far as the Dudleyz and Tazz, even though they drew more money and more people during that time frame, they weren't as influential and because they weren't as influential, in my opinion, it wasn't as important. In fact, part of the reason I left the first time, was because their influence had started to wane dramatically. I thought it was interesting that as the Dudleyz talk about their most important day, them leaving, it was only as an aftethought that they mention the return of Raven and its pretty well documented by Dreamer and everyone else that the two biggest pops in company history were the return of Raven and the return of Sandman. Although, personally, I found my pop was way bigger than Hackie's (Sandman). Probably the 3rd biggest and another personal favorite was the pop for Gordy when he first appeared. I was in the ring waiting for him and the pop was just unbelievable. It started and built to a crescendo that was so loud that I had goosebumps sitting in the ring waiting for him. Enough reminiscing.
I saw "National Treasure" the other day. Really good movie. "Carnivale" is tremendous this season. "24" rocks the monkey wrench and I'm tired of dictating.
I'm too tired to think of a coda.
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February 23, 2005 |
Raven's Log | Stardate: 2.23.05
Where the fuck is my lifetime supply of Red Lobster and socks?
Your responses to my last journal entry brought forth some of the most ludicrous inane postings ever. I've decided to let you people do most of the work on this journal entry. What I mean by that is ... well, you'll see. In no particular order:
- I am not allergic to shellfish. That is just a vicious rumor invented and perpetrated by the Druids.
- Cori - "Coriholio" - funny.
- James Fiend - "he hypothetically cares" - very funny.
- The poncho is a Terry Funk homage and not to be used at a Gallagher concert, you jackasses.
- Goldy has obsessive compulsive Red Lobster disorder.
- James Fiend during his viewing of 'One Night in Chyna' - "At exactly 1 minute 54 seconds, I just started shouting "X-PAC SUCKS, X-PAC SUCKS!!" - very funny.
- James Fiend, once again - "I think I'll sign up for the "Raven bashing idiotic fans is good and justified and entertaining" side of this biblical interpretational war. Would that make this side's "parallel" Catholic, since we aren't the ones protesting (protestants)." - Outfuckingstanding.
- baby dick fuck - very cool.
- "TiVo rocks the monkey wrench" - no idea what it means, but I know what I like.
- What about the fact that Vic has turned our site into some personal nookie factory?
- Peppermint Girl wrote - "Attila (the hun) drank himself to death - ok, ok, he choked on his own blood only after he drank enough not to notice his nose was bleeding" - Very educational and informative.
- ninraven - "Raven's journals are hilarious, totally my kind of humor, I work in a kitchen and all we ever do is make fun and rag on everyione. You should hear some of the stuff. Like the other day, this one new guy had missed work and wrote his schedule wrong, but we like him, so we just ragged on him all through lunch and if he didn't know we were joking, he probably would've grabbed one of the knives and stabbed all of us.
I love the fact that Raven is so comfortable with us, he can be like that with us. Some wrestlers just have so lame journals or entries or used to ... I haven't read them in years and they were updated once in a blue moon, so I didn't really care about them and would never dare to insult fans in a joking manner.
Really, Raven's right though. We, even his loyal fans, can criticize him sometiomes and he can do the same to us though its always in a loving way, though I am tired of explianing this and if people don't get that he's not serious or sarcastic in a way, it's no use. You just won't be able to enjoy the journals.
So, really, it's their loss.
Anyway, whatever, I feel stupid for pointing out the obvious." - I couldn't have explained it better.
Yes, you can discuss my tattoos, I could care less. Where's this nonsensical dictum that you couldn't come from?
What about 'The Lion in Winter?' Is no one gonna watch that? My God, what is wrong with you people, its brilliant. One of the greatest movies ever made. In fact, no more journal entries forever 'til you people watch it. Yeah, yeah, I know, it seems like forever since the last journal entry. Wotta a revolting development.
Part of the reason there hasn't been a new journal entry is because I haven't been able to wade through the responses to the last one. Holy crap, we're all dumber for having read your responses. Lame. Really fucking lame. Really fucking lame responses. From the girls who think they're being controversial, who are really just kind of childishly annoying, to the relentless drivel on Red Lobster, there has been a complete lack of anything interesting or informative. The Red Lobster bit could've been funny if:
a) There was something else intelligent happening.
b) It wasn't so overdone.
Now, there is nothing i like better than a joke that is overkilled. I really do, because first, its kind of funny, then its not funny, then its really funny, then its really really funny. But, this was so relentless, it actually went back to unfunny, which I didn't think was possible. No, I didn't wake up drinking a glass of haterade, that is just my opinion. You are entitled to your opinions too. If my matches suck, I know I will hear about it and, no, it won't bother me, unless you are wrong, which, odds are, you probably are.
I have a giant Ted Dibiase sized head. In fact, it is a size 8. I never wear hats because
a) They don't fit.
b) They make my head itch.
However, there is an exception to the rule. The ECW hat that came with the DVD. That thing fits and doesn't itch and it's black and it says ECW on it. So, since mine is wearing out, if anyone has one they don't intend to wear, send it to me and I will wear it.
There was a blog (thread) about my legacy and I thought Discipline had the best response concerning how I will be viewed by future generations. "If one were to listen to Jasmine St. Claire, then his legacy will be that of a locker room nudist with a large cock." I don't think I've ever heard anything so beautiful. Speaking of beautiful prose, some poster was mentioning thst he is a big Clifford Odets' mark, America's greatest playwright. Well, guess what, he's my uncle. He is. Well, actually, my great uncle. He's my granny's brother. Just another member of the insane Raven family. What most impressed me about the man, is he fucked both Marilyn Monroe and Cary Grant. Apparently, he worked on top for both promotions. Or maybe he was on the bottom for one of them - bwahahahahahaha.
Some schmuck named Gabe, not Sapolsky (he's my buddy), booked me for a show this sunday. I got two other offers for the same date, including one at a casino where I could've played poker run by the Youngbloods, not the group who sung one of my all-time favorie songs, 'Get Together,' but the Indians, whose older brother, Jay, was in some classic tag matches before dying way too young. Anyhoo, I called this guy Gabe, 905-682-4721, and he swore he wasn't gonna cancel. Me being loyal, I gave my word to him first, told the Youngbloods I couldn't do their show, even though my gut was saying, this guy's gonna cancel. Well, he did cancel and didn't even have the balls to come and tell me. I just sorta realized it when he wouldn't return my calls and never sent a plane ticket. So, no one ever go see a show by this guy. Also, you probably shouldn't call the guy and complain. I mean, where would you get his phone number to do that? Oh crap, did I accidentally give out his number earlier? Ooh my, what a mistake. Geez, I hope no one bugs this guy morning, noon and night. That would be terrible. I mean, that would only be fair, but no sirree, I could never condone that. Whatever you do, don't call and bug this guy for fucking me out of a payoff and screwing me out of taking someone else's gig.
'It hurts my brain when people write like five year olds. They should at least write like ten year olds.' - Cori.
P.S. We here at TheRavenEffect.com have decided that since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then we would like to be the beholder. With that in mind, we will be staging the first ever TheRavenEffect beauty contest. All one needs to do to enter is send a picture of herself (sorry, this is for women only), clothed , unclothed, or preferably in a bathing suit. The winner will receive a phone call from yours truly, a t-shirt, autographed pictures, and the title of Ms. Raven Effect 2005. If this sounds like a sexist ploy for me to meet hot chicks, then shame on you for figuring it out. Anyhoo, all entries must be submitted to me by March 31st. You can mail them to me at my P.O. box, where I haven't received anything cool in a while (hint hint), or I'm sure Vic will suss out some internet way of getting them to me which is far outside the scope of my knowledge. Raven, Door 457, 3232 Cobb Pkwy, Atlanta, GA. 30339.