Different than you claim, I appreciate plenty of what the business has done for me. I appreciate the opportunity Vince and his organization gave me and I’m on the record many times over the years saying so. Even when criticizing Vince’s vindictive attempt to rewrite history and defame both my personal and professional reputation, even while fighting for years through the legal system at huge financial and emotional expense, I have never withheld expressing my appreciation for certain things about my time with WWF. When you view the whole picture of what transpired between Vince and I, it is obvious that it is Vince who has refused to put appreciation in its proper perspective.
My success in the WWF was a two-way street. It is for everyone who works in the WWE today. Vince provided his contribution, yes. It was incredibly valuable. But so was mine. To say my one-of-a-kind contribution was not of at least equal value is going way too far. Yes, Vince certainly deserves credit, but I am certainly due mine — as is any other talent that works for him. Vince shouldered a heavy burden to build up his business, and that all by itself is something to admire and be inspired by. But the busted ass and backs of the talent built the foundation of that company. Without the talent the company would not exist.
The size of Vince’s business dreams and his labors, alone, did not make the company the success it is today. Vince has a tendency to forget that, and anybody who has ever worked for him knows he spends a lot of effort trying to make the world believe otherwise. The Self-Destruction DVD was his greatest attempt to force this skewed view of himself and his power down the throats of the people — the fans he claims to care so much about — who have subsidized all the wealth he possesses today.
In the DVD, talent do not parse their words. Almost all of you to a person imply that I owe Vince for everything that I have in my life and everything I am. To put it mildly — that’s fukking outrageous. I had a life filled with the pursuit of goals long before I ever met Vince McMahon. And when I worked for him, in the simplest of terms, we had a basic “goods and services for compensation” contractual agreement between us.
Nowhere in any of my contracts is there anything about either of us forever owing one another anything beyond the terms of the agreement. There is nothing in any contract I ever had with Vince that says I must continue to work there when mistreated or believe the terms of my contract were violated, or must always hold a positive opinion about their programming, or have to agree to be in the HOF simply because I worked there, or owe him or his company my loyalty forever.
I’ve never heard you say you owe all your life success to Vince — have you? Your good, old-school buddies — have they? Do they say, “I wouldn’t be anything or anywhere in my life if not for Vince and what he did for me.” No. None of them. You don’t, either. In fact, whenever any of you old-timers, and the new guys over the recent years, leave and go work somewhere else you all immediately trash Vince and his company, like they contributed nothing at all to who you are and where you are in your wrestling career, let alone your overall life.
Look at your hero, Hogan — whom you would never criticize for fear you may have to depend on him to feel pity for you one day and find you a measly payday down the road. Whenever he’s not cashing Vince’s checks, he claims he taught Vince everything he knows about the business and pisses all over the man like he contributed absolutely nothing to bring the business to where it is today.
And yet, when you all have crawled back, as every single one of you eventually do, you speak about Vince as if he is the almighty God whom you would not exist without. This is what you are doing today — for your sons. It will be interesting to see what hell-fire condemnations for Vince and WWE flow from your tongue when the mediocre careers of your charisma-less sons come to an end and they get discarded like soiled toilet paper.
Isn’t it another one of your beliefs that you will worship no false Gods? You do. How come you get to do so whenever you feel like it? Pray tell, enlighten us. You do because you are a hypocrite Christian without the true faith and strength that it takes not to. Repeatedly, you’ve sold your soul to false Gods just to make your sad, phony life work here on Earth. What a coward you are.
At your own damn website you have links to articles talking smack about WWE’s product, that it is inappropriate and crude and vulgar, that you can’t condone it or would not let your own kids watch it. Yes, these articles are dated some years back. But you know what? It was all a sham. The timelines tell the real truth. At the same time you were talking trash about WWE, to draw favor for your newfound pursuit of ministry, you were actually grooming your own sons to join the ranks right along with all the sinners. Not everybody has a price, Teddy. But you do — and it is cheap.
You’re hypocrisy is despicable. You should be ashamed, but this Biblical virtue is not one you want anybody to bring up while you’re sons are cashing in and you are busy passing your own sanctimonious judgments. It’s amazing. In my whole 50 years of life on this planet, I have never — NEVER — met a born-again Christian who was not a blatant hypocrite. If there is a heaven and it is going to be filled with the likes of you, I want to confirm my reservation in hell, right now. Eternal hardcore pain would be less brutal than spending eternity with spineless, back-stabbing, sissy suck-ups like you.
On a deeper level, a level you don’t have the mental or spiritual capacity to understand, I actually appreciate what was done for me in the business more than any of you who worked there at the same time I did. I paid serious attention to my experiences while I was there. I learned about more than achieving success in the sports entertainment business. I learned larger life lessons that have helped me succeed in my life beyond my time in the business.
I learned that hard work, self-discipline, sacrifice, creativity and belief in yourself pays. I learned that if you will give what it takes to not be denied, you won’t be denied. And by the time I succeeded in the business, this lesson was so deeply affirmed and ingrained within me I never lost sight of its power ever again. These are the virtues that make life work — no matter what challenges you face, no matter what goals or dreams you pursue. And when working in the business was no longer an option for me, I put them to work in the pursuit of other goals.
Sadly, most of you expected success in the business should be based on who you knew, who you blew, how much ass you kissed, and how well you acted two-faced and stabbed others in the back. When it didn’t work that way, you got angry, whined and complained. But little good that did, when the only audience you voiced your grievances to where the other do-nothing-about-it talent in the same predicament. More unfortunately, your focus on entitlement stifled your ability to learn the greater, empowering lessons your career in the WWF could teach you.
You used the incredible opportunity of your success to become weaker. I used my opportunity to become stronger. You developed lazy, destructive, mindless habits. I developed greater hunger. When you were drowning your payoff sorrows in booze and swapping spit with filthy whores, I was in the gym at 2 and 3 in the morning, kicking my ass and improving my body to make my gimmick even better. When you were passed out, I was making notes in my journal, writing down ideas to discuss with Vince and make my gimmick the best it could be. When you were hung over and dragging ass in the morning after a night of debauchery, I woke up inspired by the challenge to kick the ass of another day even after only 2-3 hours of sleep and another lousy can of tuna.
You grew lazier, softer, less confident, and less creative during your run. I grew bolder, harder, more brazen, more imaginative. You let the business beat you down. I used the hard work, challenges, struggles, and obstacles to empower myself.
I saw the business for what it was. I succeeded on the terms it offered at the time. I kept its history and reputation of how it treated talent at the forefront of my mind at all times, and I prepared for the day I might have to make my life work without it. When it came, I was ready. It’s not my fault you weren’t.
Truth is, Vince let us all know upfront that he would try to get every single bit of juice out of you, the talent, personally and professionally. It’s the nature of the business and the writing is on all the walls, the whole time. Vince makes it clear from the start, he’s going to get it all, every single drop — even if he has to fukk you to do it.
All along the way, up the mountain to the top, at its peak and when the downside of the mountain lies in full view, Vince shows you the signs of what will come down the road. And there were the stories proving it. Guys like you, Teddy, who had been in the business for years, grew up around the business, had fathers, mothers, and uncles or brothers in the business, spent practically all your time talking about it. You exchanged story after story, telling about the unfairness of it all and how it had happened to so many others. The road agents never shut up about it.
From the moment a young guy gets in the business, in the locker rooms and traveling up and down the road, he hears horror stories about how guys get screwed more than he hears anything else, and how unexpected and undeserved it all was. It’s common locker room knowledge — if you let it, the business will suck you in, chew your guts up and spit you out, not dead, barely alive. (So much for the “not dead” thing anymore.) Every talent that’s ever been in the business knows Ripley’s Believe It or Not was not the first promotion exploiting tragedy and freaks. A wrestling promoter and his wrestling card was.
You and your buddies, Teddy, bragged about how it wasn’t going to happen to you. You convinced yourself to not believe it. It was all a big party for you and it was never going to end. You and your undisciplined buddies were too busy enjoying the cheap whores, the cheap thrills, and cheap ideas to pay attention. Nothing mattered as much as having all the silly, superficial stuff that would one day be worthless. Down the road wasn’t here yet — it was never going to arrive. The future didn’t concern you — hanging out in the bars that night did. Superstardom was yours forever — the groupies promised you so. You would never have to live without the business because you believed the business could never live without you.
You, not Vince, were going to write the script of your career’s final chapter. No sir, no one was ever going to bring you to your knees. But when the time came, you and your equally experienced colleagues dropped quicker than a toothless, junkie prostitute.
Sure enough, when the day came, you weren’t prepared. I was. When the lights went down, you stood in the dark whimpering. I saw the light at the end of another tunnel, turned, and in one step and one deep breath, began another chapter of my life. You didn’t know how to live without the business. I did. You needed the business to have self-worth. I didn’t. You didn’t believe you could achieve success at anything else. I never doubted it. You were not only afraid to fail, you were afraid to even try. I wasn’t. No matter how the business would treat you — you would stay and put up with it. There was no position you would not assume. There was no shyt you would not eat. Not me, brutha. I was out of there. I wasn’t bred to be one of you. For that, and nothing else, you want to crucify me.
Out of fear of growing into a greater, better man, moving on in your life and going it alone, doing the work, engaging the self-belief and self-discipline to make your life work at something different than pro-wrestling, you allowed the business to own you — body, mind and soul. Not to prosper, just to survive. Your character as one of the boys was more important to you than your character as a man.
And so it has gone on. Over the years, you’ve continued to compromise and weaken your integrity to a degree, Teddy, that it no longer even has a pulse. You know it — and you know everyone else knows it, too. And no male — not one single male on this whole god damn planet — can compromise his integrity without surrendering his manhood.
Look in the mirror, Teddy. You’re a V-man. A Vagina Man. You and Hogan and Flair and Piper and Hart and all the others — V-Men. Behind the gimmicks you were all studs, real tough guys. But without them and the lights and production and business and the angles and the money and all the smack talk to back you up, you never possessed the BIG Balls it takes to step into the ring with The Main Event of Life.
I did. I still do.
I’m going to leave it at this, for now. I’ll come back in Part II and answer your question about who I think I am.
You’ll make the time to read it, I’m sure.
Your Founding Father of Life Intensity,
Always Believe,
Warrior
That sounds just as brutal now as the first time I read it.
the ether is strong with this one
