It’s the prettiest picture; If all of your friends decided to jump off of a cliff, would you join them? Obviously a rhetorical question that has been used to distinguish the idiocies of immaturity and the clique-like format entailed, but it can be dissected to so much more than that.

In the literal sense…Children have gathered from all around the neighborhood. You’re glad they called to invite you but the truth is, you’re not at the top of their list. Fantasize however you like, but accept the fact that no tears will be shed in your absence. So instead of depriving them of attention well spent, you decide to follow.

You follow the crowd into jagged rocks that climb just as well as you do. The trail of people stretches far ahead of you, that you cannot even see who leads. When you look behind, the trail of people that follow fades quicker than the mountains, almost immeasurable. It is this realization that most classify as ‘pathetic’, until they reach the edge of the rocks.

The sound of gulls and crashing waves far below begins to shape in your ear, more and more it becomes a chant of encouragement. The reality of it is that no one cares if you jump. When you look over the edge you see the rocks jump up at you. The path you once climbed is still being followed, leaving you to know that once you jump, hundreds more will follow. Hundreds before you already did. This ignorant cliff wasn’t constructed overnight.

But the rocks, they still jump at you. They’re begging to break you, and you don’t care.

Does it look deep enough to survive the fall? The Ignorant Cliff and those who travel the path will attest that it is. They’re okay? Yes. The water is still blue, they say. The water is blue, how can you be afraid?

THE WATER IS BLUE.

It looks deep enough, so jump, they’re telling you. THE WATER IS NOT RED FROM THE BLOOD OF THOSE FACE DOWN. Just as long as people are floating, the thought crosses your mind. Everyone is jumping, and you consider that they may be waiting for you. The truth is, you need to stop considering what other people think. The truth is, no one thinks for themselves.

It seems so reckless. So dangerous. So deviant. All these rebellious little shits are lining to be the next to take that risky plunge. Survival? Hah�not guaranteed, but as long as you get a rush, who cares, right? The point they’re trying to make is that they aren’t afraid. The truth is that they are.

Is this the case of appearance versus reality? Simply it becomes comparing question; are these people jumping off of this cliff together, because they’re fearless? Or is it through their gathered action and courage-in-numbers that they’re jumping because they actually fear? We’re all frail, emotional creatures, as Hallmark will attest to you on an uncountable umber of occasions, so is it so hard to imagine that these kids jumping off of cliffs acting out their courage are actually scared shitless?

I’d bank on the second answer being the right one. When I asked before, ‘is this the case of appearance versus reality," that was a stupid question. Of course this is such a case, or else I would have titled this piece otherwise.

It doesn’t matter why these kids are there; whether it is to express their thirst for thrills or to mask their fears, it’s irrelevant. The question is poised, which method applies more effective thinking? And is it possible that both appearance and reality can hold an equal stake in the validity of a single entity? Is one’s rights certified in how they are perceived, or the actions they take in exerting their rights?

The truth is that there is no comparison, just surface and depth. Both may carry same such themes in one entity, but there are varying degrees of such themes.

Case in point, metal kids that say they hate rap. Honestly, do you expect any hardcore Mushroom Head or Monster Magnet fan to know the difference between organic hip-hop and commercial rap? You probably don’t even know.

Last week, I appeared lifeless. I was taken advantage of by a few friends, and for it I had to pay the physical price. My limbs were unable of being lifted and I had to wrestle a match; what the hell was I going to do? Pass out on the ground and feel helpless; that seems like a suitable solution. To them, I wasn’t supposed to win. I didn’t execute one move last week, aside from the school boy. You even heard those Initiative dudes commentating, they banked on Dime-A-Dozen psychbilly to take the win. You can imagine ole’ Famine’s plain ass going berserk, I heard he tore up the entire training area. But everyone else, it still must be rolling through their mind: how did a drug addict, high off of borderline Heroine, steal the win from me?

Appearance versus reality. I seemed helpless, last week. Just laying there, inanimate and innate in a perpetual state of relaxation. But I was aware. I was in control. I waited and when I struck, it was impeccable. It was perfection. It was destined. Beating Default was merely icing on the cake.

Yes, I admit. It was a cheap strategy. But is that really supposed to stop me? I’m a jackass, baby! And not one of those honorable jackass that you love to hate because they’re so damn callous and by-the-book; I’m a bored jackass. One with a short attention span and a penchant to worm his way out of things. And I’m dangerous.

I may not be popular, but this Cult Icon gig has gotten some eyeballs glued my way. At first it was an aimless wandering but now it’s focused carnage. When I first showed up as the Cult Icon, every aspect of it all seemed so ridiculous and random, the feeling crept on them. All of the sudden, people in the XWF were regretting going against me on cards because they were afraid of what types of over-dramatics I’d bring with me.

Is it okay to be fine with that? Feared to work with, because you’ll pull a stunt like pass out at ringside until the most opportune moment presented itself?

Damn right I’m fine with it. It all seems ridiculous, it all seems unorganized and unethical, but it’s all progress on the road to towards my name. I’m established in ICE, they know what to expect. But here, in the XWF, I’ve got a clean slate, and already I’m billed as a joke.

It’s all working towards the goal of a dominant name. It’s like a fucked up form of marketing. Advertising for the Cult icon’s ambitions. No one wants to be in the ring with a guy who’ll piss himself to get his opponent to release a really fucked up submission hold, so why not let everyone know ‘I am that guy.’

Because you know when he has to wrestle me, he’s going to be tripping about submissions. Dudes don’t want to get pissed on. And I’m bored enough to whip your ass in soggy pants. I’ll even make it a point to do shit like Huricanranas and Sunset Flips and Head-Scissor Takedowns, just to give you the full experience.

The fucked up sort of maneuvers I need to make for the better of the Cult Icon Business. No one expects these crazy tactics to play out, but take a step back and examine the long-run. Companies have been doing it all the time, what I’m doing is no different.

It’s all a fucked up form of self-promotion, that Appearance versus Reality thing:

Shaolin Monks? Tiny Asian dudes that can fuck you up, and they don’t even punch you. You punch them. These guys look so harmless, but are capable of some serious damage.

t.A.T.u? Those Russian lesbian pop-singers? At least I thought they were lesbians. Apparently their talent manager was also a psychologist, and figured writing songs for and about two teenage chicks in a forbidden love. Good idea, only the red-head was fucking ugly.

Myspace? Oh fuck, don’t get me started on that piece of shit website. It seems like a really cool way for friends to "stay in touch" when it’s really a place where douche bags gather to bitch about their hectic life, talk about how cool everyone thinks they are, and post pictures of what they want to look like. It’s a place for nerds. People who can’t pick up women use it as a tool to get underage chicks, almost as a dating service. Myspace is for homos. I don’t care if you use it because it is easy to keep in contact with your friends, because the chances are that you are a blogging bitch and need to take your griping elsewhere. Get a journal like a healthy human being, stop being pretentious and thinking other people enjoy that you got fired from your barista job at Starbucks. Rip the stolen photos of super models off your page in an effort to convince new people to look at your truthfully hideous self and join the rest of humanity in trying to live a normal life by pissing on Myspace! You fucking suck, Myspace users!

The Mullet? This one’s tricky. How could something so hideous, rock out so fucking hard? Granted, it is hands down, the trashiest and most eyebrow-raising hairstyle of today. Fuck mohawks and pompadours, this thing sticks out further than Kanye West "acting black" at the NAACP awards. It takes balls to rock the Mullet, and that’s a fact. While it may be revered by most, those who wear such dues should be shown respect merely for the fortitude to wear one. C’mon, would you?

President Bush? Ah, too easy.

Hm... Tom Cruise, perfect. (please don’t point out that I’m just skimming through Us Weekly, looking for topics to blab about) Dude’s supposed to be this larger than life marquee-name, huge action star and major acting chops. Did you know the guy’s about 5’8?’’? Weighs probably 150? He’s Honkey Lighthouse than I am, and that’s saying a lot.

What’s the theme here? It’s that no matter what you think of appearance, the reality that drives it is so much more interesting.

The truth is that, I’m the man here in the XWF. Ever since my first win, I've been dominant. The so-called champions of this federation, I've already beat them. Yet, I can't get a shot at those titles. Just shows that either management or the champions, are scared of me.

And now, while a bunch of losers on Massacre get to fight over MY rightful title shot, I get Hunter Ryan?!

Sure, he's a tag team champion, but so what! Sure, he hangs with the World champion, but he's a punk. I've beaten some of the best in the XWF, over the past few months, and I promise you that Hunter Ryan doesn't rank high on my list. I've already looked over his career, and it's mediocre. Everything he does is mediocre. And I'm truly insulted that the XWF thinks that this loser can dethrone me. Brad Pierce couldn't beat me. Zach Rizza couldn't beat me. Famine of the Vile couldn't beat me. C'mon people. Let's stay in reality here. Hunter Ryan is a second rate wrestler in a second rate group, going against a first rate superstar.

Basically. It seems like the XWF Gods of Booking want me to lose this Thursday, but I see it differently. But the truth is, It’s just another obstacle. Another mountain for me to climb, and celebrate when I finish.

Because I will beat him, rather easily I might add. I mean, who really thinks Hunter Ryan can beat me. Wishful thinking. You guys have been watching “the Little Princess” too much. This isn’t a fucking Cinderella story. There isn’t one mother fucker who is going to topple me.

And these fuckers think they can keep a white man down? All this bullshit reverse racism in the Pro-Wrestling world is a crock of nonsense![/end bullshit]

Hunter is so tough! Ooh! Cut me a break. The Ryan Brothers along with Famine think they're hardcore? Bitch, I conduct my own stem-cell research from my privately funded Planned Parenthood clinic. Those emo punks sitting on titles? I sell inside stock tips to some of the largest conglomerates in the world that buy for even bigger. Truth is, I’m actually cooler than all of you.. including Hunter.

It doesn’t matter if you’re Famine of the Vile, recycling the same in-ring promo every week because he thought of "another funny line" to add on, or if you’re Hunter Ryan, who latches onto his brother and other losers, just so he can get ahead in this business.

These fucking kids, it’s high time they learn. They’re all about putting on shows and making everyone watch, form opinions, leave feedback… Some boring routine that they don’t even know the value of, they just want to know how popular they are.

You stupid fucks, haven’t you realized yet? It’s not what you are. It’s what you do.

And this Thursday night, losing is what Hunter Ryan will do. Cause in this world, his appearance, and reality.. are one in the same.