Post by Phil Atken on Oct 29, 2011 8:30:01 GMT -4
We find Phil Atken, Battle Royal loser extraordinaire storming around his Tokyo hotel room, glass of whiskey in hand. He is repeatedly banging his fist down on any surface he can find, clearly unhappy at the events of One Night in Hell. He bangs his fist on the television, on the wardrobe, on the table, on the mirror, on the shower door, on the clay model of a cat he bought from a nearby market that poops candy. He then eats said candy before continuing to slam his fist all about the joint, whisky flying as he does so.
Atken: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! This was not what was supposed to happen. This was not how things were supposed to start. I was meant to be walking into my first Asylum show with a title shot to my name. I was supposed to be viewed as the future of APW, the next poster child. I had it. I tossed Pence Weatherlight, I tossed him. That should have been my title shot. MINE.
But Arcadia and her giant floatation posterior had to ruin it. I HAD HIM. I had him out of the ring but oh no, Arcadia giant ass was there to save the day. Like a god damn ringside island.
Phil takes a swig from his whisky glass and goes to pour himself some more. Somehow his glass was nearly empty.
Atken: But it happened and I'm nothing if not a man who will face the facts. That's not to say that this is the end of the matter. I sat there and watched you walk out of the show was a shiny new title to your name. Doesn't really seem fair now does it? That you were rewarded for being elminiated in a Battle Royal but the very man you saved. I'm like a god damn elephant my dear Arcadia and one day I will deal with this... irregularity ...
Phil takes another swig from his whisky glass (in no way is he an alcoholic) and settles himself down at a rickety wooden desk that the hotel no doubt got from Ikea and has been super glued together on no less than eight separate occasions. He puts his drink to the side and clasps his hands together because he's saw on television that's what all the smarty people do.
Atken: Let's move on to more pressing and immediate matters. You know, next week when I meet Trevor Jennings for the first time, I want to walk up to him with a giant grin on my face and just give him a firm ole handshake. Sure, I will then immediately wash my hands because god knows where his have been but I just feel like I want to hug that dude. It's so rare for me to meet someone who has actually fallen for it. Mr. Jennings called me a liberal, and why did he call me a liberal?
Because I like money.
Phil slaps the rickety hotel table, almost destroying it as he does so. To go along with the slap he gives out a big ole belly laugh.
Atken: I come from a noble bloodline, hell my father is a god damn Lord. I could swim in my family's Scrooge McDuck-esque vault if it didn't mean I would suffer terrible internal and external injuries. I am a member of the ruling class Mr. Jennings, something you no doubt will ever understand. So let me just shatter that little image of me you built up, shall I?
You see, men like me, my father and our ruling class compatriates, we don't give a shit if gays marry, we don't really want to electrocute Mexicans, we'd happily all set up our own abortion clinics if we could turn a profit. All we care about is our money and our family's legacy. It's not just me Trev, it's your Republican heroes too. Cain, Perry, Romney, Bachmann... actually maybe not Bachmann, that girl is legit crazy. We don't care about morals, we care about money.
But people like you, you care about these issues. You care about morals. So, we pretend to. We say that gays is bad. We say that Mexican and the Polish are stealing your jobs. We say that every time a baby is aborted, Jesus weeps.
Why?
Well, to put it simply, while you go off and protest at a Family Planning centre, while you go and take a stand against healthcare for the poorest in your nation, while you wear a hat made of tea bags, while you go to your church and discuss silly things like morality, we take your money. We take it and we laugh. If the stock market crashes, my father still gets a multi-million dollar bonus. His friends still vacation on island you wouldn't even be able pronounce.
So next time you chow down on a tin of cat food, think about who really rules the roost Trevor. It's certainly not faux-moralists like you, it me and my kind. It's the ruling class Mr. Jennings. We're not liberals, we're not Democrats, Republicans, Conservatives, Labourites. We're not left wing, we're not right wing. We're capitalists, you idiot. We have two simple principles:
One, more money for us.
Two, fuck you.
Atken turns and looks slightly off screen, giving someone in the background the “okay” hand sign. Phil waits for a response for a few seconds, frowns and then looks back towards the camera.
Atken: Let me make something very clear to you Trevor, I am not your son. I'm neither a porn nor a drug fiend. I've always been a cigars and scotch man myself.
But you and your son, you're much more alike than either of you realise. You're both pawns. Your son is the pawn of a rich, military contractor – who as an aside, I imagine votes Republican.
And you? Well you're a pawn of morality. You espouse your belief in right and wrong and I must say, promising brutality in an Xtreme Rules match doesn't sound very Christian of you Mr. Jennings. Then again, neither does having a big ole wank to some "classic" porn. It's almost as though you are not only a moral crusader but also a giant hypocrite.
Phil shudders at the mere thought of a hypocrite in his mist.
Atken: I hate hypocrites. I'm an honest man, my reasons for being in APW have already been clearly defined but you Trevor, you say you're an example to be upheld. Now personally, I'd say that a man who finished up wanking on camera and was an abusive, absentee father is the furtherest thing from an example you could get. I may be flawed Trev, but I own up to my flaws. I throw my hands up and happily admit I'm not an example to the kiddies out there. I'm no hero but I don't pretend to be.
You do though, don't you Trevvy? You pretend to be a shining light and I just don't think I can let that stand. I don't think I can let even one child even think of being like you. I don't want little Johnny going home and saying to his mummy and daddy “one day, I want my son to abandon me, just like my hero, Trevor Jennings!”. No, I don't think I can let that happen.
Phil leans in closer to the camera, pondering his next words very carefully. He rests his chin on his clasps hands.
Atken: I think I'll have to be a responsible adult for once. I think I'll have to be the man to show every Asylum viewer that a father like you could never be a hero. I will have to expose you as the fraud you are. Not out of some moral sense of right and wrong but rather because it is good for the business.
And what's good for the business is good for my wallet.
Atken: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! This was not what was supposed to happen. This was not how things were supposed to start. I was meant to be walking into my first Asylum show with a title shot to my name. I was supposed to be viewed as the future of APW, the next poster child. I had it. I tossed Pence Weatherlight, I tossed him. That should have been my title shot. MINE.
But Arcadia and her giant floatation posterior had to ruin it. I HAD HIM. I had him out of the ring but oh no, Arcadia giant ass was there to save the day. Like a god damn ringside island.
Phil takes a swig from his whisky glass and goes to pour himself some more. Somehow his glass was nearly empty.
Atken: But it happened and I'm nothing if not a man who will face the facts. That's not to say that this is the end of the matter. I sat there and watched you walk out of the show was a shiny new title to your name. Doesn't really seem fair now does it? That you were rewarded for being elminiated in a Battle Royal but the very man you saved. I'm like a god damn elephant my dear Arcadia and one day I will deal with this... irregularity ...
Phil takes another swig from his whisky glass (in no way is he an alcoholic) and settles himself down at a rickety wooden desk that the hotel no doubt got from Ikea and has been super glued together on no less than eight separate occasions. He puts his drink to the side and clasps his hands together because he's saw on television that's what all the smarty people do.
Atken: Let's move on to more pressing and immediate matters. You know, next week when I meet Trevor Jennings for the first time, I want to walk up to him with a giant grin on my face and just give him a firm ole handshake. Sure, I will then immediately wash my hands because god knows where his have been but I just feel like I want to hug that dude. It's so rare for me to meet someone who has actually fallen for it. Mr. Jennings called me a liberal, and why did he call me a liberal?
Because I like money.
Phil slaps the rickety hotel table, almost destroying it as he does so. To go along with the slap he gives out a big ole belly laugh.
Atken: I come from a noble bloodline, hell my father is a god damn Lord. I could swim in my family's Scrooge McDuck-esque vault if it didn't mean I would suffer terrible internal and external injuries. I am a member of the ruling class Mr. Jennings, something you no doubt will ever understand. So let me just shatter that little image of me you built up, shall I?
You see, men like me, my father and our ruling class compatriates, we don't give a shit if gays marry, we don't really want to electrocute Mexicans, we'd happily all set up our own abortion clinics if we could turn a profit. All we care about is our money and our family's legacy. It's not just me Trev, it's your Republican heroes too. Cain, Perry, Romney, Bachmann... actually maybe not Bachmann, that girl is legit crazy. We don't care about morals, we care about money.
But people like you, you care about these issues. You care about morals. So, we pretend to. We say that gays is bad. We say that Mexican and the Polish are stealing your jobs. We say that every time a baby is aborted, Jesus weeps.
Why?
Well, to put it simply, while you go off and protest at a Family Planning centre, while you go and take a stand against healthcare for the poorest in your nation, while you wear a hat made of tea bags, while you go to your church and discuss silly things like morality, we take your money. We take it and we laugh. If the stock market crashes, my father still gets a multi-million dollar bonus. His friends still vacation on island you wouldn't even be able pronounce.
So next time you chow down on a tin of cat food, think about who really rules the roost Trevor. It's certainly not faux-moralists like you, it me and my kind. It's the ruling class Mr. Jennings. We're not liberals, we're not Democrats, Republicans, Conservatives, Labourites. We're not left wing, we're not right wing. We're capitalists, you idiot. We have two simple principles:
One, more money for us.
Two, fuck you.
Atken turns and looks slightly off screen, giving someone in the background the “okay” hand sign. Phil waits for a response for a few seconds, frowns and then looks back towards the camera.
Atken: Let me make something very clear to you Trevor, I am not your son. I'm neither a porn nor a drug fiend. I've always been a cigars and scotch man myself.
But you and your son, you're much more alike than either of you realise. You're both pawns. Your son is the pawn of a rich, military contractor – who as an aside, I imagine votes Republican.
And you? Well you're a pawn of morality. You espouse your belief in right and wrong and I must say, promising brutality in an Xtreme Rules match doesn't sound very Christian of you Mr. Jennings. Then again, neither does having a big ole wank to some "classic" porn. It's almost as though you are not only a moral crusader but also a giant hypocrite.
Phil shudders at the mere thought of a hypocrite in his mist.
Atken: I hate hypocrites. I'm an honest man, my reasons for being in APW have already been clearly defined but you Trevor, you say you're an example to be upheld. Now personally, I'd say that a man who finished up wanking on camera and was an abusive, absentee father is the furtherest thing from an example you could get. I may be flawed Trev, but I own up to my flaws. I throw my hands up and happily admit I'm not an example to the kiddies out there. I'm no hero but I don't pretend to be.
You do though, don't you Trevvy? You pretend to be a shining light and I just don't think I can let that stand. I don't think I can let even one child even think of being like you. I don't want little Johnny going home and saying to his mummy and daddy “one day, I want my son to abandon me, just like my hero, Trevor Jennings!”. No, I don't think I can let that happen.
Phil leans in closer to the camera, pondering his next words very carefully. He rests his chin on his clasps hands.
Atken: I think I'll have to be a responsible adult for once. I think I'll have to be the man to show every Asylum viewer that a father like you could never be a hero. I will have to expose you as the fraud you are. Not out of some moral sense of right and wrong but rather because it is good for the business.
And what's good for the business is good for my wallet.
