I think it goes without saying that most of us hope to grow into one of those respectable old folks that is still hip to the times and carries his or herself in a manner that commands respect. Myself, I hope to be one of those old guys who can still at least get it partially up and can hit on 20-somethings freely, knowing that they’ll just take it because they’ll believe I’m an old man who doesn’t know any better.
I was told there was going to be a wrestling section on the revamped OMGJeremy, so the first thing I did was brainstorm.
Growing up in the South (as a PROUD SOUTHERNER) I was offered a variety of food and drink items on a regular basis. Most of these were good. We’re talking about your fried chicken, watermelon, grape soda, SOME BBQ, Cheerwine, and other assorted Southern delicacies. This was quite pleasing, as they were always being offered and seemingly readily abundant. There are however a few Southern staples that don’t please me. There are a few food / drink items that downright disgust me. The big problem is that those were just as readily available and were being offered to me just as often. But one item stood out above all others… and it was a beverage. In fact, I don’t think it even deserves to be called a beverage. It’s swill. The foulest swill. It haunted me throughout my childhood. One sip and I turned into Jim Carrey, my face contorting wildly, jaw jutting out further than my bone structure allowed. Much like Jim Carrey, this was no laughing matter either.
I was plagued my entire goddamn childhood by SWEET TEA!
If we can use his songs as a true basis for the kind of man he was, Conway Twitty fucked around a lot. In his various works (gospel excluded) he was either running around on what seemed to be a steady girlfriend/wife, or he was caught and crawling on back to her. Conway Twitty was a man always moving. He was a man never afraid to take chances. He did what he wanted with no regard for anyone else… except for when he got caught and he dragged his sad ass back on his knees bawling for forgiveness.
Many would wonder what motivations Conway had to be a man like this. What insatiable lust for for women, power, and sex caused him to work his way through more than likely ALL of Tennessee’s ladies? It wasn’t lust, nor power, or a sense of great arrogance that pushed him to do these things. As we find out, Conway was a man who did what he did because he was driven by fear.
How do I know this? Because I’ve damned listened to “The Rose.”
The worst part being an adult is having to interact with the magnificent array of truly disturbing people that crawl out from god knows where to stand next to you and breathe in your general direction, or shoot spittle from their crusty lips while asking you inane rhetorical questions about the weather. I am pretty sure you are all too aware of the types of people I am talking about. The ones that sit way too close, the kind who talk to themselves behind you in line for the grocery, or perhaps even the kind that go full retard and threaten to OMG CUT YOU THEY ARE NOT LYING THEY WILL with their car keys if you do not immediately get out of their way so they can buy their precious princess that bend-n-flex Barbie doll that you happen to be blocking with your cart.
Many Southern stereotypes are not true, but there is one that holds quite a bit of water. It is said that Southern folk like their sweet tea, and I am here to tell you that for the most part that is very accurate. Most Southerners are the sweet tea swilling maniacs that they are painted to be. As a child I can’t recall a time I went to visit a relative (pick ANY relative of mine) and they didn’t have some sweet tea prepared or in the process of being prepared. So as a Southern Man, I guess you probably assume I just love that sweet tea.
I do not.
I make no bones about my upbringing in the white ghetto. While my family wasn’t what I would call “trashy,” we were certainly not middle class, either. This mostly relegated my childhood to some of the darker corners of inner-city Indianapolis, where I was greeted by all sorts of wild, sometimes horrifyingly wonderful ways of life.
Very rarely do I make a DVD purchase just based on the front cover. In fact, I have only put my faith in a film based on the cover-art twice, the first time being for High School GhostHustlers. Of course a bunch of half-dressed Japanese schoolgirls with a Ghostbusters gimmick on a cover can’t make for a bad picture. The second time… well that is what this article is about. While looking through the over-priced goods at a local Best Buy, I happened upon a DVD that grabbed me. The cover wasn’t all that fancy, nor did it advertise any stars that I recognized, but it did have one thing going for it: it had the word “Goddamn” in the title.
Though we’ve calmed down in our old age, it refreshes me to see that we can still start a damned good shit-storm here at OMGJ.
I am of course referring to the recent article I posted on my experiences at a local wrestling show, put on by the NWA / YWA (also known as NWA Carolinas). The article itself was pretty straight-forward, as I just expressed my thoughts about what was a very shitty wrestling show. The real fun started when some wrestlers from the YWA came across the article and proceeded to make English teachers across the USA cry. When all was said and done, 100-some comments later there was laughter, apparently big grown men yelling at a screen, and mass confusion. Jeremy Gregory (of OMGJeremy.com fame), demanded that I write a recap article, if for no other reason than just to straighten things out for his old confused ass.
