So it probably comes to you with no surprise that I Chris Burden have decided to lay down my promo in a blog format. You see since joining SCW my promotions or "promo's" have been lackluster compared to my colleagues. So today for all you fool hearted fans I've decided to put my fingers to the keys and instruct each and everyone of you how to make a promotion. Let's just call this a dummy course.
How To Promo For SCW: for dummies.
Written by, Chris Burden.
My opponent for the week is CJ Sharpe. Clever name I know. According to the brochure he's been on a quite the hot streak in tag team action. Typically in a cliche setting I would want to direct my focus on him. After all hyping the match encourages attendance. Attendance spawns revenue. Revenue makes Sin City Wrestling expand and lines each and everyone of our pockets. Seems like the most logical route right?
WRONG!
That's coming off way too strong. Clearly only a novice would behave in such a fashion you fucking idiot. No, no, noooooo! Instead you enter into the realm of character development. What's that you ask? Well it's simple. You choose a remote location, preferably somewhere exotic. Palm trees, waterfalls, naked ladies, white sand, cold beer. You know? Bring a friend or a family member - that's most important. Now from here you want to contrive a boring little dialogue back and forth. Please make sure it pertains to absolutely nothing. Meanwhile the viewer will continue to give zero fucks.
Now if one fuck is given you've failed. I've provided and acceptable demonstration below.
"Sup sweet checks?" Chris, the epitome of awesomeness broke speech with those impeccable lips. Lips so luscious that women lined in droves across the nation to kiss.
"Not much babe." The current girl Mikah; that Chris Burden buried his dipstick in every night. The same girl that's been in an orgasmic coma and unable to address Sin City Wrestling for over a month.
And that's it!
You see how uninteresting that was? I bet you nearly fell asleep. I highly recommend you read that to your children as a bedtime story every night.
Character development use to be an art form you see. There was once a time when wrestlers used it to break kayfabe. They would shed the gimmick typically off camera to allow others backstage to venture into the depths of the man or woman that's behind the proverbial mask. Now it's a reenactment of your atypical soap. Us little douches never break character, we're beyond gimmicks. The douche you see - exactly what you get. Some like I, bigger douches than others.
NOW!
Here is where we get to the shit show. Where I address my opponent CJ Sharpe. We let it all out. The mudslinging begins. I'm a pro at this some below I will give an example of precisely what I think of Mr. Sharpe. It's vulgar and rude so parental warnings are advised.
You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As we say in Texas, I'll bet you couldn't pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.
You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.
You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.
I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?
Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.
You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid, set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.
You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.
And what meaning do you expect your delusionally self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?
You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile, one-handed, slack-jawed, drooling, meatslapper.
On a good day you're a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.
You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.
You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.
I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Hydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid, so stupid it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid. You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know.
I'm sorry. I can't go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.
The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of your of what you wrote, because, well... it didn't really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really,stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective...
Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right".Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.
Now I finish strong. I'll throw in a terrific one liner to conquer all.
"I didn't fight my way to the top to become a vegetarian."
Boom! That's how it's done son. Now I recommend throwing together another bland character development scene for good measures. However I don't have the time.
Until we meet again.
Toodles,
Chris Burden.
