But in an odd turn of events, my career has stonewalled. For years I have gone along as being one of the best mat technicians, but never received my fair due. I can dare say no one in this world can throw a suplex quite like me, I can say no one can apply a submission hold quite like me. No one in this world can wrestle quite like Joseph Johnson. But alas, wrestling has transformed over the years. No longer are your skills as a matician relevant in this new world order. No longer will submissions, counters, technique, or true wrestling get you to the top. In this new era of sports-entertainment it matters not about ability, not even in a Hardcore environment. Wrestling is no longer the great equalizer where the best the world has to offer can settle the score between the three cables known as ring ropes. It has become a league of suck ups. A world where it matters more about how shit stained your lips are, rather than pure ability. I've witnessed it all too many times. I would go on a tear through organization after organization, never losing and following my journey as the Genocide of the current wrestling world. I would never lose a match, but I would never be given any opportunities. I was never granted championship matches and I was more overlooked than the cast of 'Six Feet Under.' I would systematically make my way through your anti-heroes, ending their own personal reigns, of tear of the community, one by one. Yet I would achieve nothing and move slower and slower up the ladder while men whose mouths reeked of ass soared to heights I could even dream of achieving. But did it matter? Did it really bother me that World Championships were being held by Perennial All-Pro Jobbers while I was watching from the sideline? No. I never needed gold titles to establish myself in wrestling. Hell, I was a martyr. I was Genocide, I was Explicit Content.... But about now? Do I care now? Do I want to be a World Champion now?

I wonder at times, was returning to wrestling the right thing for me? Did I make a mistake? There was a time that I breathed the business and I had more passion to wrestle than any man alive, but are those times now gone? When I first won a World Championship it was the year 2002 and I felt untouchable, but truth be told I was as green as Mr. Man on weed. I didn't appreciate it for what it was. I never realized how few and far between those Championships would come. Especially, when I won my second World Title only a month after I lost it. It sure didn't help matters when I won my third only two weeks later. And my fourth that same week. So there I was, a four-time World Champion only three months into my career, with three more to come and go in the same year, and one to follow that a year later. And I spoke of my titles and glory for the ages, using it as a tool to inflict my message upon those that dared not listen. I believed that all of the championships I held in the past were all I needed to prove that I was the greatest the world had ever seen, an eight-time World Champion in all, but I was wrong. People these days, dare not care of gold I held six years ago. All that oppresses the wrestlers of this day and age is what a man can do now, not what he's done in the past. Although, in a sense newcomers are hypocrites as well. A year after their last title run, they'll still drink that cool aid and speak ok their glories past. To say they are any different than me in that regard, is clearly apocryphal. I finally came to the startlingly conclusion, I must once again rise to the highest honor, etch my name in stone, and soar to the heavens as a World Heavyweight Champion. And my path back to destiny, inaugurated just two weeks prior to this day.

Two weeks ago I was an active member on the roster of the Asylum Wrestling Alliance. I was skyrocketing in terms of both popularity, and success. In the span of two matches I defeated every single man who had ever held their World Championship. I was ripping through the competition as a pro-founding member of the now deceased 'Genocide.' I spoke of war, of tyranny, of being a martyr. I spoke of a wrestling revolution and I spoke of becoming the next AWA World Champion. The opportunity was there, staring me blankly in the face and I in turn gazed back at it, fixedly, intently, and decisively. All I had to do was beat a retired old vampire in a Hell in a Cell Barbed-Wire Ladder Match to earn my opportunity to face the World Champion a month later. It was no big deal, nothing major, just another cage match. Yet only a week before said match was to occur, Joseph Johnson vanished from the AWA without a trace. I left behind my feuds, my successes, my tag team partner, and my golden opportunity.

So the question is asked, where is Joseph Johnson? Did he die? Did he retire? Is he in a place not of death, but of infinite and immortal suffering? Did he replace Prometheus, bound to a rock for an eternity while an eagle eats away at his liver, only to see it grow back that night and endure the same torture the following day? Did the particle accelerator actually live up to scientists fears, creating a black hole and sucking Joseph Johnson away into obscurity? Did he get abducted by aliens, studied by the men of Mars and asked if he liked their illustrious pyramids in Egypt? Wait, what if, could he have possibly found the lost city of Atlantis? Or no, wait, maybe Joseph Johnson simply ran away, a coward now living in a log cabin with a beard from here to there? Is it possible that all or none of these are true? These questions pose a most serious and lengthy explanation, but today, I can safely say that none of them are authentic, accurate, or dependable. Simply because, my friends, your hero Joseph Johnson is not dead, nor retired, he's not being tortured, nor bound to a rock, not sucked into obscurity, nor living on Mars like Jason O'Mara, he hasn't found Atlantis and it is guilelessly implausible to believe he ran away, absolutely outlandish even. Forget your theories, because in fact, I, Joseph Johnson, have done nothing more than leave for the nMw.

This poses another discussion, why on Earth did Joseph Johnson leave a story of success and an unholy war between good and evil for an upstart company that most thought to be extinct until merely two weeks ago? It's no secret, certainly not a mystery, that I have fought a long time for a chance at another championship. It has been an unjust struggle, ludicrous even, to get these types of opportunities in the past few years. Wrestling companies seem not to reward talent anymore, especially in the AWA where people like Taxx and Starseed can hold gold while the real players like myself are booked in meaningless matches just trying to show the front office what we can do. But do they ever look? No, they hold their heads high with their nose right over us as their servants, their friends, their ass-kissing suck-ups roam free doing everything they want to without recourse. I had seen enough of the rampant favoritism in my days and I grew tired of it, but I had no out, until one day Andy Bello made my phone ring. And when I answered that phone, set up a meeting, and spoke to Andy, I knew that the nMw would not be a joke like most wrestling federations. I knew that the nMw would reward competitors like myself, the ones who don't need to cover their lips with another man's shit just to get ahead, the ones who don't need to hire a seven foot bodyguard to do their dirty work for them, the ones who don't need anyone's help to rise to the top. The Explicit Content ones....

Andy Bello had a plan. Pit a true established wrestler, like myself, that doesn't need any short-cuts against a man who would stop at nothing, show no morals, leave nothing to pure ability, and take advantage of every gyp that they can and make no bones about swindling an opponent out of victory. So Andy Bello signed it, Joseph Johnson vs. The Ripper for the World Championship in the first edition of nMw Anarchy. The ultimate test of good versus evil, truth versus fable, ability versus derelict. And now finally, the world can see which path is of true success. The world will see that the road less traveled by, will be all the difference.

Two polar opposites colliding in the ring, settling every score ever written and leaving nothing as they spar to become the nMw World Heavyweight Champion. On one side, we have Joseph Johnson, the technical king, the technique masterpiece who can bring it in so many ways he leaves his opponents with their heads spinning. I, Joseph Johnson... there's so much more to my game than just technique. I can use one of hundreds of my submissions, I can suplex a man seventy different ways. I can hit several suplexes in a row. I can do a Sambo Suplex, keep the hold and do a German, keep it sinched in and do a Tiger Suplex, keep it locked in and finish him with a Northern Lights. There's nothing I can't do when it comes to my home style. But there's still plenty I can do outside of my comfort zone. I can brawl with the best of them, I can wield dangerous objects, I can deliver the power of Rocky Marciano and the speed and agility of Muhammad Ali. I can bring it every year like the New York Yankees of old and stay perfect longer than the 2007 New England fucking Patriots. I can kick harder than Roberto fucking Carlos and put more spin on it than David freaking Beckham. And when I find myself on the top rope I can jump higher, further, and faster than Michael Goddamn Jordan. There's nothing I can't do inside of that ring, and that's what makes me the unanimous favorite in the inaugural Anarchy, because my opponent can't do any of this. My opponent cannot resist, he cannot fend for himself, his abilities are limited and questionable at best. His respect is absent and his class is vacuous. And these are just a few of the reasons that I can't slip. I can't falter in this quest to become the World Champion... because if I do, the world has another choke Champion, and that's something I am "disinclined to acquiesce," to ripoff one of my favorite movies...

I'm fighting for more than just myself. I'm fighting for marks, for businessmen, for psychiatrists, for the average wrestling fan, and for world order. And yes, I am also fighting for myself, to once put the word champion next to the name of Joseph Johnson. I have every tool necessary to complete such a task. To win in wrestling you need only nine things. Nothing more, nothing less. If you have those nine you shall never falter. I've lived by my code. I've wrestled by it, and I've never lost by it. And by following it again, I shall not lose.

Ambition... Defined as the earnest desire for some type of achievement or distinction, as power, honor, fame, or wealth, and the willingness to strive for its attainment. My ambition Jack the Ripper, is to elevate my name over the level of each of yours and to put myself at the pinnacle of my championship odyssey. Not for fame, nor wealth, nor power, but to once again bring honor to the name Joseph Johnson. Too long it's been that I've walked around without gold hanging from my waist. For three years it seemed like something I would never again realize, never again feel, but now I stand on the cusp of a championship reign to call my own, and it is my absolute ambition to seize it. Step by step, I will achieve.

Motivation... Defined as the psychological feature that arouses an organism to action toward a desired goal; the reason for the action; and that which gives purpose and direction to behavior. I've always been motivated to succeed inside the ring, but when it comes to a time like this I find myself a little extra motivated. Not that I need such a thing, going up against a man that possesses not even one of the nine codes of victory. As I've already stated, my goal is to walk out of the Garden in Boston one step closer to becoming a legend, and as a new champion. It is the reason for my action and it is that which gives me purpose. Step by step, I shall not fail.

Dedication... Defined as the act of binding yourself intellectually or emotionally to a course of action. No man is more dedicated to victory than I. I am in the gym every single day dedicating myself to my cause. My cause to wrestle and wrestle to win. I've broken a lot of bones, torn quite a few muscles, and taken more hits to the head than I care to remember, but I've kept going. I've been criticized by few and by many, but I've never given up. I have binded myself to my career and to my desire to win. Moment by moment, I shall prevail.

Sacrifice... Defined as the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim. I sacrificed more than I probably should have. Whether it be my body or my mind, I had no trouble parting with it. I've sacrificed friends, family, and relationships as well. I sacrificed a lot of Explicit Content, even Shaun Cabalar at times, to keep my drive going. I left my ex-wife and had Shawn Payne murder her, just to keep my mind running, but don't boo for me this, I was given the purple heart for my actions... So many girlfriends have come and gone. I never had an issue with sacrificing them. The only sacrifice I regret is my brother, not Eric Johnson, but my real brother. But in turn, sacrificing my relationship with him has helped get me to where I am today. Piece by piece, I shall never die.

Optimism... Defined as a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome. I'm not exactly being optimistic here, I'm actually being realistic because I know without a shadow of a doubt I am going to defeat Mr. Bestie. I've looked at all the scenarios and I just can't help but be a little favorable to my side and expect a victorious outcome. Ring by ring, I shall not waiver.

Education... Defined as the act or process of imparting or acquiring particular knowledge or skills, as for a profession. I've studied wrestling my whole life. I've studied the basic single match before and now I'm doing it again. Don't for one second think you can trick me. I have seen all and done all. I know all. There is nothing new that I am ever going to see in this business. Nothing new you can throw at me. I've mastered the art of wrestling to it's fullest extent and I expect whole heartedly to use that to my advantage. Without knowledge no order can ever exist. And don't think I'm like these other people who rot their mind away on drugs. I've never touch them and I'm never going to. Wave by wave, I shall never surrender.

Perseverance... Defined as the act to hold firmly and steadfastly to a purpose, state, or undertaking despite obstacles, warnings, or setbacks. Setbacks? I've had quite a few. Not any that I feel the need to share with you again. I've said it once, I've said it plenty and enough. We all know what I've had to go through to get here, the paranoid ex-wife, the bastard child... Maybe I didn't mention that one, but no worries you'll hear it soon enough, the injuries, all the drama of the High Definition/Explicit Content war. I persevered through everything that God himself has thrown before me and I stand here today as the Preeminent being in all of sports entertainment and poised to take my next step into a new era of Excellence by embarking one step further on my journey to legend and championship. Level by level, I shall never lose.

Courage... Defined as the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear. Easily the biggest quality of all necessary for a match of this eminence. You need courage. I’ve wrestled in 28 various and dangerous gimmick matches. In those matches I compiled a 25-2-1 including a perfect record in Ladder Matches, but hell, I’ve done so much more than that. Whether it be a Cage Match, Tables, TLC, Last Man Standing, Hardcore, Circular Cell Macthes, Hell in a Cell, Freezer Room Brawls, Suspended Chambers, and last but not least the most dangerous match in my life: The Glass Box Match. Yeah, I won all of those, but what did I really accomplish in them? Well, I’ll tell you. I’m a man who’s wrestled in a Suspended Steel Chamber held 50 feet over the ring, I’m a man who threw another man off of it. I’m a man who threw another man off a building and paralyzed him for life in an Anywhere Falls Match. I’m a man who speared another man through the wall of a Glass Box match and sent him into retirement because of substantial internal bleeding. I'm a man who has never, ever, lost a tag team match, a ladder match, a cage match, a hardcore match, a table match, or a damned Glass Box Match, and when it comes to these kinds of matches, I’ve done more damage to a human mind than a lobotomy. I guess you could say I’m a man that isn’t afraid. Why? Because I’ve got courage. And tread by tread, the Ripper cannot beat me.

Respect... defined as an esteem for or a sense of the worth or excellence of a person, a personal quality or ability, or something considered as a manifestation of a personal quality or ability. Now, most people would be telling me right now, "Joey, you can't respect a man such as Ripper." And honestly, they would be right, you can't respect such a low form of competition. But Ripper has succeeded in the past and I am sure when you put his bodyguard on the outside this match may pose a small threat. And that, I can respect. I can respect the sheer size and strength of Cyrus, and I can can respect the arrogance and lack of order, lack of ordinance that Ripper will surely display. But his ability? No, that can never be an aspect of which I can respect.