Emperor Fuckshit

I liked that for some reason.

This out straddles the line between entertaining and stupid. That's always a fun dance to dance. On a line. Or something.

Looks pretty interesting, but I have the racist, stereotypical market locked up

←

Don't worry. Your guys are evil. Mine are just very confused.

<p align="center"><img src="http://img19.photobucket.com/albums/v56/jed123/Untitled-3_copy.jpg" alt="The image “http://img19.photobucket.com/albums/v56/jed123/Untitled-3_copy.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." width="500" height="98"></p><p align="center"><b><font size="6">HARTFORD WRESTLING GREATS</font></b></p><p align="center">&nbsp;</p><p align="center"><font size="6"><b>Present...</b></font></p><p align="center">&nbsp;</p><p align="center"><font size="6"><b>&quot;YEAH! REALLY GOOD!&quot;</b></font></p><p align="center"><b>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</b></p><p align="center"><b><font size="5">Main Event:</font></b></p><p align="center"><b><font size="5">(Hartford World Title)</font></b></p><p align="center"><i><font size="5">'Blue Chip' Tony Castino vs. Yoshi Bin Santos</font></i></p><p align="center"><b>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</b></p><p align="center"><b><font size="4">(Hartford World Double Wrestlers Titles)</font></b></p><p align="center"><font size="4"><i>The Musical Connection vs. Tribunus L. Finance &amp; Chester</i></font></p><p align="center"><b>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</b></p><p align="center"><i><font size="4">Tommy 'Black' Black vs. 'The Heel' Micky O'Neill</font></i></p><p align="center"><b>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</b></p><p align="center"><b>And...</b></p><p align="center"><i>Yuri Father vs. Little Pete</i></p><p align="center"><b>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</b></p><p align="center"><b><i>And Much, Much More (But No More Matches)...</i></b></p><p align="center">&nbsp;</p>

<img src="http://img19.photobucket.com/albums/v56/jed123/Untitled-3_copy.jpg" alt="The image “http://img19.photobucket.com/albums/v56/jed123/Untitled-3_copy.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors." width="500" height="98"></p><p align="left"><b>The Diary of Georgiou Constantanidis</b></p><p align="left">Hello again to all my great fans! I have toured in a car up and down this great land of opportunity for wrestling men! The task has been hard but I have now a bunch of warriors, like great warrior grapes. They will not be fed to Lions (like old Christians) because Lions live to devour only meat. Instead they will be propped up on flames like a table on a phone book! Howdy Partner!</p><p align="left"><b>Roster:</b></p><p align="left"><b>Good Guys:</b></p><p align="left"><i><b>'Blue Chip' Tony Castino</b></i></p><p align="left"><i>This young man is the future of the wrestling industry! He can fly all over the ring, with his amazing speed and scary stamina, and great running! He often loves to breathe white powders in the dressing room! What a crazy tradition. The kids are going to love it - especially the girls. With his long, black hair and torn jeans, this young man really knows what's 'hip' with the youth of today!</i></p><p align="left"><b><i>Tommy 'Black' Black</i></b></p><p align="left"><i>Yo, 'jive' talkin' nigga. That's straight up, word. This 'funky-ass' 'mutha' be 'dropping' yo' ass before you can say 'yo, dawg'. He'll go 'funky' on yo' ass! Watch your hub caps around this young 'player'. But, hey, our fans go crazy for this loveable darkie, especially when he gets his 'groove' 'thang' on, with one of his 'bitches' ! 'World Lives'!</i></p><p align="left"><b>Note: </b>Most of these are new words for me. I got an old man at the hospital to write them. I think he is very funny! He will be helping from now on! If I make mistakes, e-mail these to me at:<a href="mailto:Georgiou@Internet.web">Georgiou@Internet.web</a>!</p><p align="left"><b><i>Little Pete</i></b></p><p align="left"><i>He's out to prove that, SIZE DOESN'T MATTER (LOL! Just a little sex joke there). He may be a runty little twat, but there's every chance of him causing quite an upset in the ring. Our fans sure hope so! Very Good!</i></p><p align="left"><b>Twats:</b></p><p align="left"><i><b>'The Foul Pole' Yoshi Bin Santos</b></i></p><p align="left"><i>Hailing from...well...not the US, THAT'S for sure, The Foul Pole, Yoshi Bin Santos, has little respect for your way of life. He'll try every trick in the book to make sure those American lads don't get ahead. Look out for his manager, <b>Ulrich Chi Singh</b> - a wily old veteran who will stop at nothing to make sure those American lads don't get ahead. Woah! What subversion.</i></p><p align="left"><b>Note: </b>&nbsp;I think this is a smart cunning strategy. Americans hate other nations, I believe, and this is a way of getting them to pay money to see a man who they don't like because he is very foreign, so they will want to see him lose so that he breaks his lively hood.</p><p align="left"><i><b>'The Heel' Micky O'Neil</b></i></p><p align="left"><i>This man is NOT nice. If he saw you in the street, he would beat you up. After that, he would steal your house keys, and your address, and rape your mother. Possibly he would tie up your father and make him watch. After that, he would slit your father's throat with a straight razor and give all your bodies an acid bath. Crazy!</i></p><p><b>Note: </b>I learnt this word 'heel' new today! It is very cunning, for wrestling promoters, because it is a way of saying 'twat' in code, so that no-one will know, and mothers do not say 'hellos, Mr Bozel, I would LIKE TO MAKE A COMPLANT'!</p><p><b><i>Yuri Father</i></b></p><p><i>Fight the system? This man IS the system! He'll make you all clean your rooms, and then mow the lawn. He'll probably make fun of your tastes in art and music, and call you a 'Gothick' or a 'Hippee'. He simply doesn't undertand your way of life, and will do everything to make you uncomfortable. And if he sees you with a girl, he'll tell her about your genitalactic problems!</i></p><p><b>Double Wrestlers:</b></p><p><i><b>The Hartford Musical Connection<br>(DJ Appeal &amp; MC Music)</b></i></p><p><i>Boopy-doop-boop. As we all know, music is excellent. I mean...radical. These young doodes couldn't agree more. They are part of some kind of band outside of the ring! DJ Appeal is well known for being quite a 'stud' with the ladies, as well. </i></p><p><i><b>The Wealth Connection<br>(Tribunus L. Finance &amp; Chester, 'The Amiable Negro')</b></i></p><p><i>Tribunus L. Finance is the world's richest man, and he knows it. He can even afford to keep his own personal manservant Chester, a Negro, who is somewhat amiable! Finance is, decidedly, a bad person. Often he will make you feel bad about your own desolate, poverty stricken existance. Boo to him! After all, I'm sure you're all quite happy living in squalor and desperation - you're 'real people' after all! Hooray!<b><br>&nbsp;</b></i></p><p><b>Talker:</b></p><p><b><i>Christopher Danger</i></b></p><p><i>Very extreme, causes dangerous situations.</i></p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>Well that is a very strong group of men. I hope that we are soon able to make a show! </p><p>Kalispera, wrestling fans.</p><p><b>--Georgiou Constantanidis</b></p><p><b>------------------------------------</b></p><p><b>OOC Note: </b>Dun-dun-dun! The loveable idiot is not loveable at all. He is a racist, out-of-touch, stereotype man. However, how can we expect a stereotype to come up with non-stereotypical characters? Who knows. The plot is thicker now!

The Diary of Georgiou Constantanidis

Hello, computer -- A/S/L? (LOL! Just a little intarnet joke there). Well imagine I am surprised. Let me tell you of these events (that have happened).

I was in Cyprus, at home, in my restaurant - I was cooking some sturgeon. It is a seafood restaurant. Very good prices, I give you special deal. The phone rings and it is my cousin Ernest. He says 'Georgiou, Quentin is dead'. Oh no big surprise. Well, I get on a plane and come to America.

I didn't know Quentin very well, as he live in President Bush is Stupid for his life (LOL! Just a little politic joke there). I lived in Cyprus and I have a restaurant. It is very nice there, bring you're own drinks because my wife doesn't like alcohol and is worried that it will bend her mind into supple figments. Anyway, I was trying to get my peanuts open -- very hard (LOL! Just a little observation joke there). When I realised that I didn't know Quentin very well. I'm sure he is a nice man very good.

But, I am worried. Last time I was in America for the wedding, they hit me with oars and make me cook the food, they call me 'moustache twat' and 'shitty fuckwank'. It is very upsetting for me.

So, I come into the funeral, with the dead man, and Ernest is very nice to me. He says that he likes my suit and that I am a very good man. This is very different but it makes me very pleased. Anyway, he has something on his mind, so I say 'you are looking earnest' (LOL! Just a little pun joke there). And he laugh very hard and says that he needs to see me after the funeral.

After the funeral I put on my hat and I meet my cousin Ernest in the parking lot, and we look like those men from that film Blues Brothers, which is very funny (not the film) as we are almost brothers, but are cousins instead. He starts talking to me about this new business that Quentin opened -- it is some kind of fight competition for sweaty men. He says that he (Ernest) is too (more than sufficiently) ill (hip) to operate the company (fighting sweaty men competition). So, he tells me that Quentin wants to keep things 'in the family'. I realise that, even though I am from Eastern Europe, I am in the family and I am part of our excellent dynasty like a Greek mythology book, but not Turkish mythology because they are shit and kill footballs.

So, Ernest tells me that he wants me to come to live in America and operate this 'wrestling'. I say 'very good' I am a businessman sharp suit, looking snappy monsieur, NASDAQ. Ernest pats me on the shoulder, and then we walk away, and I stand on the spot thinking about that card game with the children and Alfonso Ribiero, but then I realise a bad truth:

'I KNOW NOTHING OF WRESTLING'

I am a businessman, give my compliments to the chef! I have no knowledge of wrestling. Tonight, I will buy tapes of this Parthenon. I will learn of wrestling. I will have big plan, very good, sweaty men.

First of all I change the name of the company. My dad always told me that the name of your company should tell all of your customers what your product is. So, I start bending my brain like David Beckham's balls (pun Nintendo) and come up with a new name:

Hartford - it is in Hartford.

Good - it will be very good.

Wrestling - It is wrestling!

Now we have a name, all we need is some wrestlers, a ring, a talking man, and some kind of building.

Kalispera, wrestlefans!

--Georgiou Constantanidis

-------------------------------------------

OOC: Yes, this is the story of an old European stereotype taking over a small wrestling fed in Hartford, CT. On the surface. Of course, this is all bollocks and its just an excuse for me to dick around and do as much stupid stuff as possible. Roster coming.

Edit: Fixed.

<p align="center"><img src="http://hartfordadvocate.com/images/homeheader_left.gif" border="0" alt="Hartford Advocate" width="310" height="72"></p><p align="center"><font size="5"><b>Local Entrepreneur Found Dead</b></font></p><p align="center"><i>Rope and Cable Magnate McCarthy Found Dead, Heart Attack Reportedly To Blame</i></p><p align="center"><i>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</i></p><p align="left"><b>L</b>ocal businessman, Quentin J. McCarthy III, 59, was found dead at his home last night, with a heart attack reportedly to blame.</p><p align="left">McCarthy owned and operated the famous <i>McCarthy Rope &amp; Cable</i> factory, located on Governor Street, just east of the centre of Hartford. He had recently sold the factory and gone into early retirement, acting on the advice of his trusted family doctor. Quentin had suffered from heart problems for a number of years, which many attribute to his supposed alcoholism.</p><p align="left">The deceased is survived by a brother, and by a cousin who was born in and lives on the Greek island of Cyprus. McCarthy leaves no wife, nor children.</p><p align="left">A hard-working man with traditional values, McCarthy was a well respected member of the Connecticut industrial sector. However, his story is also tinged with tragedy, as a series of failed business ventures ate into what would've been a considerable sum of wealth.</p><p align="left">A funeral is scheduled for Saturday, and McCarthy will be buried alongside his parents at Hockanum Cemetery. It is believed that the church service will be opened to the public, and particularly to former employees of<i> McCarthy Rope &amp; Cable</i>.</p><p align="left">Sometime before his death, McCarthy announced plans to open a small professional wrestling circuit, which was to be called Hartford Championship Wrestling. The rights to this name will be passed onto Quentin's Brother, Ernest McCarthy. However, Ernest's own health is questionable, and the company will likely be sold.</p><p align="left">&nbsp;</p>

The Diary of Quentin J. McCarthy III

Let me tell you something about 'Vince McMahon'. Well, I guess I don't need those inverted commas - that's his real name. Anyway, this is something you haven't read about Vincent Kennedy McMahon in all of these TV interviews, and 'broadgrammes' about the life of this 'genius'. They're fluff pieces, they're lies, is all they are.

Vincent Kennedy McMahon is nothing but a lying, cheating scumbag!

Yeah, that's right. This ain't no A&E Biography now, you facehead. This is real. This is all about the events of summer 1952. These events are shrouded with mystery...they've been covered up by 'the man'. Well this ain't no A&E Biography (those words sound familiar...), fuckenstance. This is a mindfuck, an eye-opener, a big slice of truth cutting into your brain like a pizza slicer. That mound of pink, quivering flesh? That was medulla oblongata. That jerking spasm of blue-ish jelly? Your pituitary gland. Are you fucking ready for this? You're not on the couch with Regis & Kelly anymore, Vincent.

First of all - he didn't make it. That model of the UFO? His mommy made it! He didn't so much as glue the pieces together! You see, Vince McMahon needs everything handed to him on a plate. His fortune, his big rassling company, all of it. Daddy bought it, or Mommy made it. Snivelling son of a bitch couldn't do a day's honest work to save his life. And when that judge slapped the rosette on that grotesque, that smirking, that fucking leering Unidentified Flying Object...well, Vincent, something died inside of me. A little part of me died. How does that feel on your conscience? I bet it feels like ten million copies of the Complete Works of Tolstoy balancing on a coffee table with a missing leg - pretty fucking uncomfortable. I just hope that rosette and that book token keeps you warm in Hell. Or cold in hell. Whichever.

I'm an old man, now, Vincent. The same age as you, actually, except I'm older. That's what happens when you work night and day with your hands -- creating your own fortune. Not that you'd know anything about that. Well now, I've sold my life's work, I've sold McCarthy Rope and Cable. But unlike you, I'm not happy when I'm not working. I can't just sit around here getting fat off the proceeds. Oh no. I've got another venture in mind.

Are you ready for some competition, Vince? Are you ready to get beat at your own game. I'm going to topple you of that mountain, Mr McMahon. McCarthy is coming. And eventually I will look into your blood stained face and you'll whisper 'it is over yet, Quentin? Can you make the pain stop?' NO! There's no respite for men like you, McMahon. The natural order is about to turn itself on its head.

This isn't for me, you know. No, it's for those balloons - they were all in perfect proportion, you asshole. They were life, they were the Universe.

You took what was rightfully mine. Now Quentin J. McCarthy III is coming for your first place.

--Quentin J. McCarthy III

Barry.

Primarily because I'm a Boston fan, but also because Bonds' achievements are more legendary.

Also being top of Ks lists and so on doesn't the carry the aura of re-shaping the Big Three on sports' most famous leaderboard.

Oh, and Clemens is a douche.

Fave Chilli Peppers Song?:

Californication

Fave Muse song?:

Dunno. Feh.

Fave Radiohead Album?:

The Bends

Pearl Jam or Nirvana?:

Nirvana

Favourite Chill-Out album?:

Anything reggae

Favourite Solo Artist?:

Um...

Pop or R&B?:

Neither

Indie or Metal?:

Indie

Rap or Rock?:

Rpck