Post by Static on Feb 3, 2006 14:49:26 GMT -5
(WELCOME TO WINDSOR is what the sign says. Besides all of the beautiful, large parks that overlook the waterfront and Detroit skyline, the gardens, and the 32 large-scale sculptures for public viewing, the biggest thing that greets you as you get off the Ambassador Bridge from Detroit to Windsor is the sign. It's about twenty feet tall and twenty feet wide, decadent and lit up with unncessary spotlights, hanging over otherwise beautiful Pitt Street like a plague. The street is four lanes wide, but two are used for parking cars. Thus, it's mostly used for bicycles these days. Gorgeous green trees surround both sides of the street. It's a very striking contrast to the city across the Detroit River.
That'd be Detroit. The Murder Capital of the USA, Motown, the Motor City. The many faces of Detroit are getting played out in spades this week, as 100,000 of the sleaziest dirtbag reporters from around the globe, as well as football fans from Pittsburgh and Seattle converge to watch the Super Bowl on Sunday. It'll be watched by a billion pigs worldwide, making this week the first time in a long time that the world's collective eyes have been squared on tha D. While normally home to muggers, drugs, panhandlers, and "marginal neighborhoods," Detroit has gone to great lengths [talkin' millions and million] to ensure that those 100,000 see Motown, and not the Murder Capital.)
STATIC: And Windsor, getting an unintentional boost. Big ups to Rex Caliber for flying me here, by the way. Good luck this week.
(Static, walking down the street. The mask, still slashed, looks a hell of a lot prettier in the sunlight. The mild winter is allowing him to wear jeans and an inside-out sweatshirt today.)
Hey, thanks, American government. Thanks to your Puritan President, my hometown's going to be raking in the dough from now until the fifth. Two and a half million, AMERICAN, because your citizenry wants to take a walk on the wild side. I'm talking legalized prostitution, all-nude strip clubs, and a 19 year-old drinking age. Booyaka!
But I'm not exactly reveling in the scene, oh no. If I were, hell, I would've been in town a week ago to bask in the filth of the biggest corporate party on earth. No, trendy young journalists, athletes, and socialites just aren't my bag. Ditto bars where they serve girly drinks and so-called "singles only" clubs where it's a hundred bucks to get wasted and there's no cover for girls wearing halter tops.
(Suhneeeeer.)
STATIC: Later tonight, this beautiful street will be filled with them. Two-faced pigs. Mostly Americans, they like to play the morality police by day, like journalists who'll decry the antics of a guy like Terrell Owens. By night, they're over here, getting their dicks wet from some nubile 20 year-old trying to pay her way through med school. Guh-ross.
That kind of shit always bugged the hell out of me. No, I don't have a problem with what they're doing. What anyone chooses to do to themselves is their own business. All I'm saying is, don't go on television and talk all high and mighty if you're truly a scumbag.
Hmm. Monday Night Fights, with the Doomriders. Oh, the most devastating team in NAPW. Three-time king of the deathmatch, "Sick" Billy Kryenik! Trailer park insanity, Tommy DEATHROW! And of course, Ms. Illusion TanaKryenik. She's got PROBLEMS and she'll make sure you NEVER FORGET IT.
Pfft. I'm not usually the type to get all pissy about getting my ass beat, hell, I'm usually the one administering the beatdown. But this is the CRIMES--and the DUDES. Already established as the two greatest tag teams that NAPW has to offer, perhaps two of the greatest teams in history. When you guys wrestle ten-minute draws, it means that one of the idiots blew himself up with C4. And hey, not knocking C4 here, but when we wrestle ten-minute draws, it's a proclamation. We're artists, practicing our art form. You just threw up on our canvas, and on Monday, we'll knock you back down to size. Like Detroit with the Super Bowl, NAPW IS the Dudes and the Crimes. You're the Windsor, leching off of us.
Now that I've gotten all high-and-mighty, time to knock myself back down to size with some good old fashioned boozing. Hey, at least I'm telling you about it.
(Wink. Fade out as Static spits on a parked SUV.)
That'd be Detroit. The Murder Capital of the USA, Motown, the Motor City. The many faces of Detroit are getting played out in spades this week, as 100,000 of the sleaziest dirtbag reporters from around the globe, as well as football fans from Pittsburgh and Seattle converge to watch the Super Bowl on Sunday. It'll be watched by a billion pigs worldwide, making this week the first time in a long time that the world's collective eyes have been squared on tha D. While normally home to muggers, drugs, panhandlers, and "marginal neighborhoods," Detroit has gone to great lengths [talkin' millions and million] to ensure that those 100,000 see Motown, and not the Murder Capital.)
STATIC: And Windsor, getting an unintentional boost. Big ups to Rex Caliber for flying me here, by the way. Good luck this week.
(Static, walking down the street. The mask, still slashed, looks a hell of a lot prettier in the sunlight. The mild winter is allowing him to wear jeans and an inside-out sweatshirt today.)
Hey, thanks, American government. Thanks to your Puritan President, my hometown's going to be raking in the dough from now until the fifth. Two and a half million, AMERICAN, because your citizenry wants to take a walk on the wild side. I'm talking legalized prostitution, all-nude strip clubs, and a 19 year-old drinking age. Booyaka!
But I'm not exactly reveling in the scene, oh no. If I were, hell, I would've been in town a week ago to bask in the filth of the biggest corporate party on earth. No, trendy young journalists, athletes, and socialites just aren't my bag. Ditto bars where they serve girly drinks and so-called "singles only" clubs where it's a hundred bucks to get wasted and there's no cover for girls wearing halter tops.
(Suhneeeeer.)
STATIC: Later tonight, this beautiful street will be filled with them. Two-faced pigs. Mostly Americans, they like to play the morality police by day, like journalists who'll decry the antics of a guy like Terrell Owens. By night, they're over here, getting their dicks wet from some nubile 20 year-old trying to pay her way through med school. Guh-ross.
That kind of shit always bugged the hell out of me. No, I don't have a problem with what they're doing. What anyone chooses to do to themselves is their own business. All I'm saying is, don't go on television and talk all high and mighty if you're truly a scumbag.
Hmm. Monday Night Fights, with the Doomriders. Oh, the most devastating team in NAPW. Three-time king of the deathmatch, "Sick" Billy Kryenik! Trailer park insanity, Tommy DEATHROW! And of course, Ms. Illusion TanaKryenik. She's got PROBLEMS and she'll make sure you NEVER FORGET IT.
Pfft. I'm not usually the type to get all pissy about getting my ass beat, hell, I'm usually the one administering the beatdown. But this is the CRIMES--and the DUDES. Already established as the two greatest tag teams that NAPW has to offer, perhaps two of the greatest teams in history. When you guys wrestle ten-minute draws, it means that one of the idiots blew himself up with C4. And hey, not knocking C4 here, but when we wrestle ten-minute draws, it's a proclamation. We're artists, practicing our art form. You just threw up on our canvas, and on Monday, we'll knock you back down to size. Like Detroit with the Super Bowl, NAPW IS the Dudes and the Crimes. You're the Windsor, leching off of us.
Now that I've gotten all high-and-mighty, time to knock myself back down to size with some good old fashioned boozing. Hey, at least I'm telling you about it.
(Wink. Fade out as Static spits on a parked SUV.)