|
|
FRONT PAGE | PAGE 2 | PAGE 3 | PAGE 3.2 | PAGE 4 | PAGE 4.2 |
---Thinking of an answer to that question took me to a dark place. I remember going to sideshow-style matches in the Tampa Bay area back in the mid 80's. Watching wrestling was like watching a great football game, but wrestling had one great advantage. It was always there, new masked men verses those hometown heroes. There was no off-season. Flash forward to twenty-odd years later and I can still watch even the "fakest" of matches with a child's wide-eyed delight. My heroes were always the oddest of guys, "One Man Gang," the 350 lb non-wrestler who would decimate his opponents by simply pounding down on them. "Wow, I can do that," I thought to myself. Then again, I would see little Mexican-styled wrestlers (luchadores) and how fast they were, "wow, he didn't just do that, did he?", there he goes off the ropes again and again. Those guys were superhuman cartoon characters showing off their high flying skills. Sometimes they would miss the target and you could tell they were regretting it. Then once the big bad "Heel" would get their hands on them, it was all over but the crying. "Oh, no!", surprise, the "Face" would pull off some stunt that got him the pin and won him the hometown's admiration and respect. To this day, I can remember how cold the flat soda was, how great the over-boiled hotdogs tasted smothered in mustard. I can remember the night-before anticipation as I counted the hours till my dad and grandpa would rush me off to the matches. Six blocks north, two blocks east, past Hercules Trucking where they warehoused the ring. The musky building once held the local YMCA till the neighborhood went industrial on them. Then the truckers, bikers, and strip clubs moved in. The only family places in this part of town were the old church and the warehouse ring. I'm glad I ended up in wrestling heaven. So, to answer the question - do I like wrestling more or less than playing the Raw Deal game? The game takes me back to where I will always want to be, "safely beating down on the good guy," and thanks to its invention, I can now appreciate the good guys too. I am now more than ever obsessed with watching it on TV and fallowing the storylines as I try and figure out which great maneuvers and events will make it into the game mechanics. That's all for now.
Living In A Communist Paradise: Carmelo’s Tale
Believing in freedom, and wanting democracy.
Another rebel goes to jail.
Imprisoned behind coral walls, Carmelo awaits nightfall.
Escaping throw sugarcane fields,
Unto a dark dirt and gravel road.
That nights last bus took him into town.
His wife with newborn child awaits his arrival.
Dirty and tire on the back seat he rested.
Two hours later, knocking on his door.
Sweaty, grimy and still in his prison close,
His wife and baby boy greeted him at the door.
Inside on the dinning room table,
A small homemade vanilla cake sat.
A single candle in its’ center flickered.
The wife with tears of joy and worry,
Scared to ask how,
Just kissed him and smiled.
"Do you think I was going to miss my sons first birthday?"
"It’s not midnight yet."
As a family they blew out the candle.
Carmelo and his baby boy ate cake together.
"Take a shower, have a rest."
All he could give was an hour of himself.
Enough to know that he had done the right thing.
"I must return. I can’t shower. They’ll know."
The walk back was long and hard.
Hours passed and Carmelo walked,
Tired but with a smile on his face.
Through sugarcane fields he trekked.
He returned through the kitchens’ backdoor.
Handing the night guard a piece of homemade birthday cake.
"Hurry to bed, the work whistle sounds in an hour."
[This is the answer to the question.]
[This is the answer to the question.]
[This is the answer to the question.]
[This is the answer to the question.]
email: SimplyJack at Netzero dot Net
Copyright © 2000. All rights reserved.
Born-On-Date: May 13, 2000.
Revised Last: January 20, 2005.