Friday, March 25, 2005

The Last Word from The Ultimate Warrior

The Last Word from The Ultimate Warrior

We were all waiting for it. We can all let this go back to being what it should have been in the first place. He's arrived with the last word on the entire Terry Schiavo matter.

Here is the Ultimate Warrior's commentary on the events surrounding Terry Schiavo.

I enjoy reading Warrior's commentaries. It's tough to slog your way through them sometimes all the time. Calling his commentaries a little wordy is like saying Kojak's a little bald. Warrior has one of those computers built without a 'delete' key.

A sample passage:

Outside of this, I have the customary ignorance and half-ass know-how to offer like everyone else. None of us spouting off our own queer three-cents have the factual details of what happened 15 years ago when this woman suffered this tragedy, or since. And up against an emotionally sensitized clock, none of us ever will. Whatever truly happened in the courts for the last seven years, whatever doctors and medical experts have determined about Schiavo’s short and long term prospects, and what the bedrock constitutional legal realties are none of us will ever, veritably, find out -- not from any of the frothy televised mouthpieces anyway. Not with all the immediate, on-the-fly spinning, mistranslated half-truths and photo-optic powerplays going down. Sure, Michael Schiavo is a cad and scoundrel. There’s nothing to doubt here. He should have saw through to a conclusion Terry’s end-all fate before he got on with his life. It’s 'death till us part' -- 'till I’m a vegetable' doesn’t meet the standard. If he’s a knave though, what do we call the conniving cowards bleeding blood from this Republic’s laws? How about President, congressmen and senators.
Look at that!!!! That's ONE PARAGRAPH!!!!! Holy Crap! This is the interweb! There are nekkid pictures one (1) click away. Honestly! He needs to break some of that text up! Otherwise, I'm gonna get bored and go back to looking for nekkid Keira Knightley captures, and forget this bullcrap wrassler commentary.....

But I digress.

I like Warrior's commentaries foremost because they show that he's put some thought into whatever he's thinking about. But I appreciate that from just about anybody. If you can put your viewpoint into words without resorting to sneering at and calling the other side names, I appreciate it. And I'll read it.

Whether I agree with Warrior's thought processes or not, that's a different story altogether. I don't need to be the choir to anybody's pulpit (to be frank, if I agreed 100% with anybody, I'd be worried. And if I'm looking to agree 100% with somebody who calls himself Ultimate Warrior years after his wrestling career has ended, I should probably not be allowed to participate in the democratic process at all). Suffice it to say, I appreciate it when somebody takes the time to enunciate their ideas.

Because I'm so bad at doing so myself, sometimes.

But let me tell you this. I especially appreciate it when somebody comes from out of the blue (like the Warrior) to give their thoughts. Mostly so that I can tell whether I'm within shouting distance of the Edge of Reason, or not.

But when it comes to the Warrior, mostly I like reading what he's writing because the reader-in-my-head reads everything he writes in the same style he always cut his old WWF promos. His words aren't so much spoken as they are growled and thrust at you from a snarling, painted face. Every line is read spastically, with no resemblance to the normal speaking cadence you and I have come to know, where you pause at commas or at the end of a sentence....pauses come to the Warrior simply when he runs out of breath....

The warrior paces as he talks, he stalks each line, he pounces at you to make his point. His arms pump and gyrate in time to whatever drumbeat he's hearing. He's a bottle of barely contained passion, piss and vinegar.

And he's wearing tassles. Never forget that. As he's yelling his points, he's growling, he's spitting, his head is shaking from the strain he's putting into shoving each word out from his diaphragm and through his neck. He's wearing tassles. Pink, orange and yellow tassles. Tied just above the biceps on each arm.

Kind of like what you find hanging off the handlebars on a five-year-old girl's bicycle.

And no matter how crazy, how loony, how just completely bongo-off-the-wall the ideas being spewed here are, I enjoy what's being said because of the image in my head.

Perhaps I would read more political thought if I knew the writers were wearing tassles and facepaint. At least then their vitriolic, self-righteous chest pounding would be amusing.

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