Post by Awesome Stick Labor on Jun 23, 2017 7:19:23 GMT
Prologue
"ENTER: LINDSEY GRAWN"
June 7, 2017 - 12:30 PM
Inside his office at his Corpus Christi villa...
...we find James Gilmore lounging about behind his desk, slowly savoring a can of Pepsi as he listens to a few random tunes from his computer's massive music library. The weather in South Texas was piss-poor, as usual, with a never-ceasing onslaught of heavy rainfall with the occasional lightning strike thrown in for good measure, but that didn't stop the Islander alum from checking the news and seeing what was going on in the world around him.
"Surely, I THINK I can win this darn thing," Gilmore thought to himself as Brian May's rendition of the theme to "Star Fleet" played...
"Tell the people back at Earth Control.
Send Star Fleet Legions to save our souls!
Always daring and courageous,
only they can save us!
Star Fleet, Star Fleet..."
...but the subtlety of his meditation was short-lived when he heard his door chime go off, prompting him to put his feet down and sit up straight in his swiveling black leather chair.
JAMES GILMORE: Come in!
The door swings open, revealing quite a sight in Gilmore's eyes. She was aged 25, sporting a black leather designer handbag along with an attractive set of business-wear including a short black dress with a not-TOO-revealing white formal shirt and patriotic-themed bowtie. Showing off her femme-fatale figure to great effect, James' guest pulls back her blonde hair, turning it into a ponytail before speaking to him in a thick East Texas twang.
LINDSEY GRAWN: Howdy...my name's Grawn, Lindsey Grawn.
The last name "Grawn" perked Gilmore's curiosity, causing him to raise his left brow before standing up.
JAMES: Grawn? Does that mean you're related to Mr. Ricky Grawn?
Lindsey giggled at first, giving off a slight wink of her blue eyes.
LINDSEY: He's my uncle.
Gilmore closed his eyes for a moment, not letting Mr. Grawn's niece's stunning figure distract him, before extending his hand. Lindsey does the same thing, and the pair engage in a very professional handshake.
JAMES: Ah, that explains the tough talk. I'm--
The younger Grawn cuts James off before he could finish.
LINDSEY: I know who you are--James Gilmore, replacement Republican challenger to fill the Corpus Christi Mayoral vacancy despite having no political experience whatsoever.
James couldn't help but chuckle, knowing full-well that he was going to be in good company. He watched Lindsey as she pulled up a chair and sat down across from him.
JAMES: Wow...ya did your homework. I'm assumin' you majored in Political Science, right?
LINDSEY: That, plus Criminal Justice from the University of Michigan. I also minored in Linguistics, but I'm assuming you don't know what that is because you majored in History.
JAMES: I know what linguistics is.
Lindsey giggled once more, daring him to tell her how much he knew about the subject in question.
JAMES: Ah, linguistics...it's the scientific study of language, its meanings and its context. In a nutshell...it means you've got a very talented tongue. Care for a Pepsi--it's the real-sugar kind.
Lindsey smiled, giving off just a slight tinge of seduction as Gilmore quickly reached down and pulled a blue soda can from his personal cooler. He set it upon the oak-finished desk as she nodded.
LINDSEY: Impressive...most impressive. For a moment there, I was thinking you were one of those dumb progressives who only fantasize about fucking Shia Lebouf up the ass without giving him a reach-around. But...I was wrong. You're better than those petaQs I used to bed with.
"Jeez," thought James as he peered his eyes upon the potential temptress.
JAMES: Damn...and you're a Trekkie too! You got moxie, Miss Grawn...I like that from a lady.
LINDSEY: That, plus the notion that you think I've got nice tits.
She inched closer to Gilmore, revealing her cleavage only slightly as she studied him from top to bottom.
JAMES: Whoa...meeee-owwwww....
LINDSEY: What's wrong? Having trouble keeping it down?
James, looking pretty aroused, can only muster a sheepish grin as a psychedelic tune from the late 1960s began to play...
"One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small,
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall..."
...and Lindsey snapped back into her chair, immediately recognizing the tune in question.
LINDSEY: I love this song...Jefferson Airplane, "White Rabbit." Uncle Ricky used to play it for me all the time when I was younger.
JAMES: He's got good taste in music, what can I say. So...what brings ya in here?
LINDSEY: It's real simple...I help you become Mayor of Corpus Christi, traveling with you as your new campaign manager.
Keeping that sly, stupid smirk on his kisser, Gilmore is left to ponder for a moment as Lindsey reached into her handbag, looking for her files.
JAMES: Campaign manager? To me...that's just as good as an invitation. Perhaps we could talk about that...over lunch? I'll get pizza ordered in a jiffy.
LINDSEY: Sounds tempting...James.
Her blushing dimples and soft tone of voice continued to influence Gilmore, even as he tried to readjust himself and regain his composure.
JAMES: What happened to the last Republican dude that's tried to run for mayor here?
LINDSEY: To quote Freddie Mercury, he bit the dust. His opponent smeared him with a fake sex tape.
JAMES: And who's this nefarious guy I'm gonna be goin' up against?
Lindsey nodded her head, pulling out a manila folder and setting it on the desk; she pulled a photograph of a woman, in her mid-40s and sporting a stately complexion.
LINDSEY: Her name's Melina Gonzales--aged 47, originally from Venezuela but emigrated to Corpus Christi with her family as a child. She's lifelong Socialist Democrat, strong advocate for open borders, more gun controls, the works. She's also taken donations from the likes of George Soros, Madonna, Ashley Judd, Rosie O'Donnell...get the picture?
JAMES: Yeah...I get it. Sounds like someone Tristan "Nighthawk" McDaniel would vote for.
LINDSEY: Who's he?
JAMES: A grappler with a busted knee, voted for the likes of Bernie Sanders. Shoves moral codes down people's throats yet they don't apply to him with his reputation for breakin' people's arms. Meanwhile I get fined a hundred grand 'cuz of somethin' I said, yet another guy gets away with attempted murder...at MY expense.
The younger Grawn scoffed at the notion as James, after finishing it off, tossed his empty soda can into a pink recycling bin.
LINDSEY: How...degrading!
JAMES: It's all good...he's back in his sanctuary gym in Chi-Town, probably tellin' a sob story about how he misses the gig. Too bad his honor code didn't let him come out and save me, like the hero he said he was.
Gritting her teeth slightly, Lindsey stood up, sauntering towards Gilmore's collection of old history books.
LINDSEY: Well...got some bad news for you--Gonzales is wayyyy ahead of you in the polls. We've got some catching up to do, I'd say, if you're gonna pull this miracle out like a rabbit out of a pot.
JAMES: I believe you're lookin' for "rabbit out of a hat."
Noting the mixed metaphor, Lindsey giggled again as she continued perusing through her host's cache of books and pamphlets, most of which deal with the American Civil War save for one, The Oxford History of the French Revolution, which dealt with the subject and was given to James as a graduation present by his favorite professor, Dr. Sandrine Sanos. As "White Rabbit" entered its crescendo, Lindsey turned slightly, smiling at the ex-Islander as he looked through the dossiers on his opponent....
"When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low.
Go ask Alice
I think she'll know.
When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's 'off with her head!'"
...all the while, he eked out a smile back at Lindsey. He liked her from the start.
JAMES: Ya know...I like you Miss Grawn. You're hired--make yourself comfy, I'll get Pizza Hut on the horn.
LINDSEY: Sounds like a plan...and call me Lindsey.
Lindsey retreated to Gilmore's living room to make herself more comfortable, leaving the latter thinking about his election chances as Grace Slick uttered those two iconic lines to conclude the Vietnam War-era standard.
JAMES: Definitely...
"...feed your head!
Feed your head!"
TO BE CONTINUED...
"ENTER: LINDSEY GRAWN"
June 7, 2017 - 12:30 PM
Inside his office at his Corpus Christi villa...
...we find James Gilmore lounging about behind his desk, slowly savoring a can of Pepsi as he listens to a few random tunes from his computer's massive music library. The weather in South Texas was piss-poor, as usual, with a never-ceasing onslaught of heavy rainfall with the occasional lightning strike thrown in for good measure, but that didn't stop the Islander alum from checking the news and seeing what was going on in the world around him.
"Surely, I THINK I can win this darn thing," Gilmore thought to himself as Brian May's rendition of the theme to "Star Fleet" played...
"Tell the people back at Earth Control.
Send Star Fleet Legions to save our souls!
Always daring and courageous,
only they can save us!
Star Fleet, Star Fleet..."
...but the subtlety of his meditation was short-lived when he heard his door chime go off, prompting him to put his feet down and sit up straight in his swiveling black leather chair.
JAMES GILMORE: Come in!
The door swings open, revealing quite a sight in Gilmore's eyes. She was aged 25, sporting a black leather designer handbag along with an attractive set of business-wear including a short black dress with a not-TOO-revealing white formal shirt and patriotic-themed bowtie. Showing off her femme-fatale figure to great effect, James' guest pulls back her blonde hair, turning it into a ponytail before speaking to him in a thick East Texas twang.
LINDSEY GRAWN: Howdy...my name's Grawn, Lindsey Grawn.
The last name "Grawn" perked Gilmore's curiosity, causing him to raise his left brow before standing up.
JAMES: Grawn? Does that mean you're related to Mr. Ricky Grawn?
Lindsey giggled at first, giving off a slight wink of her blue eyes.
LINDSEY: He's my uncle.
Gilmore closed his eyes for a moment, not letting Mr. Grawn's niece's stunning figure distract him, before extending his hand. Lindsey does the same thing, and the pair engage in a very professional handshake.
JAMES: Ah, that explains the tough talk. I'm--
The younger Grawn cuts James off before he could finish.
LINDSEY: I know who you are--James Gilmore, replacement Republican challenger to fill the Corpus Christi Mayoral vacancy despite having no political experience whatsoever.
James couldn't help but chuckle, knowing full-well that he was going to be in good company. He watched Lindsey as she pulled up a chair and sat down across from him.
JAMES: Wow...ya did your homework. I'm assumin' you majored in Political Science, right?
LINDSEY: That, plus Criminal Justice from the University of Michigan. I also minored in Linguistics, but I'm assuming you don't know what that is because you majored in History.
JAMES: I know what linguistics is.
Lindsey giggled once more, daring him to tell her how much he knew about the subject in question.
JAMES: Ah, linguistics...it's the scientific study of language, its meanings and its context. In a nutshell...it means you've got a very talented tongue. Care for a Pepsi--it's the real-sugar kind.
Lindsey smiled, giving off just a slight tinge of seduction as Gilmore quickly reached down and pulled a blue soda can from his personal cooler. He set it upon the oak-finished desk as she nodded.
LINDSEY: Impressive...most impressive. For a moment there, I was thinking you were one of those dumb progressives who only fantasize about fucking Shia Lebouf up the ass without giving him a reach-around. But...I was wrong. You're better than those petaQs I used to bed with.
"Jeez," thought James as he peered his eyes upon the potential temptress.
JAMES: Damn...and you're a Trekkie too! You got moxie, Miss Grawn...I like that from a lady.
LINDSEY: That, plus the notion that you think I've got nice tits.
She inched closer to Gilmore, revealing her cleavage only slightly as she studied him from top to bottom.
JAMES: Whoa...meeee-owwwww....
LINDSEY: What's wrong? Having trouble keeping it down?
James, looking pretty aroused, can only muster a sheepish grin as a psychedelic tune from the late 1960s began to play...
"One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small,
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall..."
...and Lindsey snapped back into her chair, immediately recognizing the tune in question.
LINDSEY: I love this song...Jefferson Airplane, "White Rabbit." Uncle Ricky used to play it for me all the time when I was younger.
JAMES: He's got good taste in music, what can I say. So...what brings ya in here?
LINDSEY: It's real simple...I help you become Mayor of Corpus Christi, traveling with you as your new campaign manager.
Keeping that sly, stupid smirk on his kisser, Gilmore is left to ponder for a moment as Lindsey reached into her handbag, looking for her files.
JAMES: Campaign manager? To me...that's just as good as an invitation. Perhaps we could talk about that...over lunch? I'll get pizza ordered in a jiffy.
LINDSEY: Sounds tempting...James.
Her blushing dimples and soft tone of voice continued to influence Gilmore, even as he tried to readjust himself and regain his composure.
JAMES: What happened to the last Republican dude that's tried to run for mayor here?
LINDSEY: To quote Freddie Mercury, he bit the dust. His opponent smeared him with a fake sex tape.
JAMES: And who's this nefarious guy I'm gonna be goin' up against?
Lindsey nodded her head, pulling out a manila folder and setting it on the desk; she pulled a photograph of a woman, in her mid-40s and sporting a stately complexion.
LINDSEY: Her name's Melina Gonzales--aged 47, originally from Venezuela but emigrated to Corpus Christi with her family as a child. She's lifelong Socialist Democrat, strong advocate for open borders, more gun controls, the works. She's also taken donations from the likes of George Soros, Madonna, Ashley Judd, Rosie O'Donnell...get the picture?
JAMES: Yeah...I get it. Sounds like someone Tristan "Nighthawk" McDaniel would vote for.
LINDSEY: Who's he?
JAMES: A grappler with a busted knee, voted for the likes of Bernie Sanders. Shoves moral codes down people's throats yet they don't apply to him with his reputation for breakin' people's arms. Meanwhile I get fined a hundred grand 'cuz of somethin' I said, yet another guy gets away with attempted murder...at MY expense.
The younger Grawn scoffed at the notion as James, after finishing it off, tossed his empty soda can into a pink recycling bin.
LINDSEY: How...degrading!
JAMES: It's all good...he's back in his sanctuary gym in Chi-Town, probably tellin' a sob story about how he misses the gig. Too bad his honor code didn't let him come out and save me, like the hero he said he was.
Gritting her teeth slightly, Lindsey stood up, sauntering towards Gilmore's collection of old history books.
LINDSEY: Well...got some bad news for you--Gonzales is wayyyy ahead of you in the polls. We've got some catching up to do, I'd say, if you're gonna pull this miracle out like a rabbit out of a pot.
JAMES: I believe you're lookin' for "rabbit out of a hat."
Noting the mixed metaphor, Lindsey giggled again as she continued perusing through her host's cache of books and pamphlets, most of which deal with the American Civil War save for one, The Oxford History of the French Revolution, which dealt with the subject and was given to James as a graduation present by his favorite professor, Dr. Sandrine Sanos. As "White Rabbit" entered its crescendo, Lindsey turned slightly, smiling at the ex-Islander as he looked through the dossiers on his opponent....
"When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low.
Go ask Alice
I think she'll know.
When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's 'off with her head!'"
...all the while, he eked out a smile back at Lindsey. He liked her from the start.
JAMES: Ya know...I like you Miss Grawn. You're hired--make yourself comfy, I'll get Pizza Hut on the horn.
LINDSEY: Sounds like a plan...and call me Lindsey.
Lindsey retreated to Gilmore's living room to make herself more comfortable, leaving the latter thinking about his election chances as Grace Slick uttered those two iconic lines to conclude the Vietnam War-era standard.
JAMES: Definitely...
"...feed your head!
Feed your head!"
TO BE CONTINUED...
==BEGIN RECORDING==
FACEBOOK LIVE PRESENTS
"From the Desk of Lindsey Grawn, Campaign Manager for James Gilmore - #1"
Howdy folks, my name's Lindsey Grawn, and it'd be pleasure to meet you all except for the fact that you'll think of me as nothing more than a talking head instead of my client's campaign manager. Today's the 22nd of June, 2017, and I've got some thoughts I had on the state of the Imperial Wrestling Federation, and let me just say...they ain't good.
First of all, you got a Diamonds Champion that's apparently trying her darndest to "help" out a well-documented psychopath, but the key word here is "try" because, as you all SHOULD know, that man can only change himself but he won't. You liberals, though, will follow him like sheep only because he's prone to excessive violence. I'll have more on him in a bit. Yet then we have a Hall of Famer that goes out on national TV and plays a game of chicken shit because he had his poor little feelings hurt by the man who OWNS the IWF!
And yet...he talks about being the best PROFESSIONAL wrestler out there...
...and by definition, professional means you follow the rules and regulations set by your boss. Otherwise, your ass is grass, right?
Not according to this Hall of Famer. Liberal logic at its finest, yet you losers root for him like he's the second coming of Jesus Christ!
What RIGHT does Cable Arcane have in talking about rules and regulations when he starts bitching to Roberto Verona about not being allowed to enter Heir to the Throne!?! What does Cable do when the banhammer is smacked on his thick skull by the big boss man?! He plays the victim! He REFUSES to accept his Hall of Fame spot! What an UNGRATEFUL chauvinist pig he truly is--especially considering that LAURA HOWLETT HERSELF made his career into what it is today! His Championship reigns weren't earned, they were manufactured by the one who truly molded him into a star...
...and he won't admit that. Why? Because he lets his precious little feelings and safe spaces get the best of him INSTEAD Of sucking it up, swallowing his pride, and acting like a TRUE PROFESSIONAL! Newsflash--he's a Hall of Famer, so he needs to follow the guidelines set before by the promoter Verona, GROW THE FUCK UP, or pack his fucking shit and move to the Valentine Wrestling Syndicate! Oh wait...that company was folded because it's head honcho, a former IWF Hall of Famer by the name of Ana Valentine...was a well-documented slut who banged every single male wrestling star in the IWF locker room from Joe Everyman to...hell, even Alex Jones!
Meanwhile...the REAL victim of this storyline, this RIGGED SYSTEM, is my client, James Jefferson Gilmore.
James Gilmore has NEVER, EVER done drugs in his life, yet the fake news media networks like ESPN or CNN are jumping all over him as if he plagiarized his entire memoir on Jack Gaither called The Golden Road, which is the biggest load of bullshit I've seen since that Obama guy took office in 2009! James Gilmore has ALWAYS wrestled his matches the right way, followed the rules and regulations of the wrestling business as set forth by Mr. Verona, yet he gets laughed at in favor of a man who acts like a spoiled crybaby in need of a coloring book for his safe space just because he wants his precious Championship back! James Gilmore has built himself up from the ground, yet he is the most underappreciated, underutilized, and DISRESPECTED performer in this business!
Why's that, some might ask?!
It's real simple...he doesn't play the victim when life doesn't go his way! He doesn't fake cancer, beat innocent women like Fiona McFly, Sin, or Kathleen Conway, or try to KILL anybody a la that nonredeemable spawn of Satan known as Spike Kane! The man should be in PRISON for attempted murder, but instead...MY CLIENT gets fined $100,000 because he used an old, archaic term that's now a common first name, like Mick Jagger or Mick Mulvaney! James Gilmore will be out there WINNING, pissing off the critics who've snickered and laughed at him because he isn't "refined" like you THINK you are, and he WILL Make Imperial Great Again by winning the 2017 Heir to the Throne...
...but you won't cheer for him--because he is a real, conservative, tax-paying, law-abiding professional and not a FAKE one like Cable Arcane! How pathetic must you, the people, be for cheering on this clown!
Then again, those are just my final thoughts. Follow me on Twitter @reallindseygrawn. From Corpus Christi, Texas, God bless...
....and see you pipsqueaks at Bloody Assizes.
==END RECORDING==
FACEBOOK LIVE PRESENTS
"From the Desk of Lindsey Grawn, Campaign Manager for James Gilmore - #1"
Howdy folks, my name's Lindsey Grawn, and it'd be pleasure to meet you all except for the fact that you'll think of me as nothing more than a talking head instead of my client's campaign manager. Today's the 22nd of June, 2017, and I've got some thoughts I had on the state of the Imperial Wrestling Federation, and let me just say...they ain't good.
First of all, you got a Diamonds Champion that's apparently trying her darndest to "help" out a well-documented psychopath, but the key word here is "try" because, as you all SHOULD know, that man can only change himself but he won't. You liberals, though, will follow him like sheep only because he's prone to excessive violence. I'll have more on him in a bit. Yet then we have a Hall of Famer that goes out on national TV and plays a game of chicken shit because he had his poor little feelings hurt by the man who OWNS the IWF!
And yet...he talks about being the best PROFESSIONAL wrestler out there...
...and by definition, professional means you follow the rules and regulations set by your boss. Otherwise, your ass is grass, right?
Not according to this Hall of Famer. Liberal logic at its finest, yet you losers root for him like he's the second coming of Jesus Christ!
What RIGHT does Cable Arcane have in talking about rules and regulations when he starts bitching to Roberto Verona about not being allowed to enter Heir to the Throne!?! What does Cable do when the banhammer is smacked on his thick skull by the big boss man?! He plays the victim! He REFUSES to accept his Hall of Fame spot! What an UNGRATEFUL chauvinist pig he truly is--especially considering that LAURA HOWLETT HERSELF made his career into what it is today! His Championship reigns weren't earned, they were manufactured by the one who truly molded him into a star...
...and he won't admit that. Why? Because he lets his precious little feelings and safe spaces get the best of him INSTEAD Of sucking it up, swallowing his pride, and acting like a TRUE PROFESSIONAL! Newsflash--he's a Hall of Famer, so he needs to follow the guidelines set before by the promoter Verona, GROW THE FUCK UP, or pack his fucking shit and move to the Valentine Wrestling Syndicate! Oh wait...that company was folded because it's head honcho, a former IWF Hall of Famer by the name of Ana Valentine...was a well-documented slut who banged every single male wrestling star in the IWF locker room from Joe Everyman to...hell, even Alex Jones!
Meanwhile...the REAL victim of this storyline, this RIGGED SYSTEM, is my client, James Jefferson Gilmore.
James Gilmore has NEVER, EVER done drugs in his life, yet the fake news media networks like ESPN or CNN are jumping all over him as if he plagiarized his entire memoir on Jack Gaither called The Golden Road, which is the biggest load of bullshit I've seen since that Obama guy took office in 2009! James Gilmore has ALWAYS wrestled his matches the right way, followed the rules and regulations of the wrestling business as set forth by Mr. Verona, yet he gets laughed at in favor of a man who acts like a spoiled crybaby in need of a coloring book for his safe space just because he wants his precious Championship back! James Gilmore has built himself up from the ground, yet he is the most underappreciated, underutilized, and DISRESPECTED performer in this business!
Why's that, some might ask?!
It's real simple...he doesn't play the victim when life doesn't go his way! He doesn't fake cancer, beat innocent women like Fiona McFly, Sin, or Kathleen Conway, or try to KILL anybody a la that nonredeemable spawn of Satan known as Spike Kane! The man should be in PRISON for attempted murder, but instead...MY CLIENT gets fined $100,000 because he used an old, archaic term that's now a common first name, like Mick Jagger or Mick Mulvaney! James Gilmore will be out there WINNING, pissing off the critics who've snickered and laughed at him because he isn't "refined" like you THINK you are, and he WILL Make Imperial Great Again by winning the 2017 Heir to the Throne...
...but you won't cheer for him--because he is a real, conservative, tax-paying, law-abiding professional and not a FAKE one like Cable Arcane! How pathetic must you, the people, be for cheering on this clown!
Then again, those are just my final thoughts. Follow me on Twitter @reallindseygrawn. From Corpus Christi, Texas, God bless...
....and see you pipsqueaks at Bloody Assizes.
==END RECORDING==
Well howdy there pardner.