Post by jessicabuck on Jul 3, 2016 13:43:18 GMT -6
I think it is time that we start being honest with ourselves. That honesty begins with me coming clean with a truth that maybe I have been trying not to admit, but can't on good authority keep it to myself anymore. You see, there are people who have this misconception that the world isn't fair; that they are in the position they are in because of some grave cosmic injustice done toward them. For the longest time, I let them believe this fallacy, because what did it hurt me? Though, now that I beat up a homeless guy in my debut, and look to beat a guy who is taking his ball and going home, Jokerdemonmotherloversisterbrother, and a guy who “represents” the working class, the cat needs to come out of the bag.
The secret of life is this: the world is just; the system is fair; those on top deserve to be there, while those on bottom have earned the rightful place on the bottom of my stiletto.
The American Dream? It is a lie we tell you, so can keep pumping our gas and busing our tables. When has the world EVER worked like the way the media describes it? Millenia of plague and famine taking out droves of poor, while the wealthy remain unscathed BEFORE the creation of America pretty much proves my point. That is where are Founding Fathers were smart. They had seen centuries worth of leaders and rulers come out, make their decree, only for arrogant, overzealous common folk being told the truth and form uprisings against their superiors. What were these people? Essentially, they were communists. Peasants who believed that because one person had something, that they were entitled to that same something, never taking into account why that person had power and wealth in the first place. Some people are born with minds for leadership; others naturally have a knowledge of finance and how to make money; others are cults of personality due to charisma or having an encompassing appeal to them. They have their power and riches because of natural selection, the fairest measuring stick of them all. Unfortunately, there is a whole 99 percent who believe that, even though they have shown no talent or skill in these areas, that they deserve the same kind of power. They ignore the fact that, if given control, that they would run any venture into the ground ...because people who labor, labor for a reason. That is what they are good at; that is what they were built for; that IS natural selection. That logic and reason didn't matter to them, because they were jelly before jelly was even a thing. Like petulant children throwing a fit before bed time, they revolted and created problems for those in power.
However, the people who built America were crafty, in that they learned from their predecessors mistakes. You can't build a nation, having to watch your back for some kind of uprising because the middle class are butt hurt that they are unremarkable. No, saying “this is the way it is and you are going to have to deal with it” was not the tactful way to go about it. So, when America was conceived, our found fathers lied through their wooden teeth. They told the working class that greatness CAN be achieved if they worked incredibly hard; that, in America, if you set your mind to it, you can even be President of the United States. Obviously, as I say this now, it sounds like a full of shit political promise ...BUT THAT IS HOW GULLIBLE THE 99 PERCENT IS. For as much as they are willing to revolt at the drop of a hat, all they really want is to be told that they CAN be equal. They desperately just want that carrot dangled in front of them. Like a dog, they just want something to chase ...even if that thing they are chasing is just their tail. And they shouldn't feel bad about this as, after all, they are still essential to the grand scheme of things. We are too smart, powerful, and good looking to wash our own dishes or cook our meals. We just have bigger fish to fry, which is why the Jericho Salazars of the world are incredibly important to us; why we need to make them believe that if they can dream, they can do it.
But, lets be brutally honest here, the system just doesn't favor them because they are replaceable cogs. If the guy who has to mop up my Eyes Wide Shut orgy mist slips on some stray jizz and breaks his leg, we replace him with another janitor from South of the Border who works for less, doesn't speak a lick of English, and won't fuck up (if he knows what is good for him.) It is a VERY essential vicious cycle, but one we have plenty of spare parts for. However, there are some parts that are incredibly hard to replace; parts that the system need to protect and favor because they are so valuable to the process. Obviously, you have your politicians that need to be in power, but more important to them are celebrities; yes, I am talking about myself. As much as we need great minds to come up with ideals, there is more of a demand for people that will sell you those ideals; convince you that yes, the American Dream is real, and YES, you can one day fuck someone that looks like me if you try REALLY hard. That is why I am so important to this current way of life. Because of my perfect ten body, and natural charm, I am indispensable in society. I am a cog that is not easily replaced.
That is why Shane Sayne, FatherUncleWarriorJokerWanker, and Jericho Salazar will not beat me at Overdrive. Firstly, as said, they were created limited, they have a ceiling in what they can achieve in general. Evolution never favored laborers that well as they will see on Sunday. No, it isn't a matter of class, but a matter of mentality. You cannot process the world in full if you have no scope in the first place. Salazar only sees things in his tiny microcosm. Does he THINK that he can see the big picture? Yes, of course he does, but that is only because of his poor upbringing and belief in the All-American that keeps people like him in the factories ...and typically, out of my wrestling ring. But like all Socialists before him, he is letting them make him arrogant; he is believing that he can actually make a difference; that he isn't one of those replaceable cogs that I have spares for in the closet. Salazar is beginning to think that he is an individual ...and that EVERYONE should work as hard as he does.
As I put on the shortest skirt that I had in my closet, I thought of ...and to be honest, I touched myself a little bit. You try thinking about proving a man's existence completely meaningless in a few hours and try not putting at least one finger in. It was gratifying sensation knowing that I was not just going to be beating up a bum this time, but three other men. But what sweetened the pot was that one of them was a bleeding heart who played a violin for himself because he “worked hard,” like that somehow made him special; that because he was stupid to believe promises hundreds of years dead men made that he deserved the same equal treatment as me. Or even more laughable, that because he goes into work everyday, gets paid minimum wage, and does overtime that he deserved MORE than me. That doesn't make you deserving, sweetheart, it makes you a fool. Again, it was going to be so much fun humiliating him in the ring that I rubbed it a little bit more. Somehow I was able to stop myself from indulging in the extreme gratification and focused on the matter at hand. With the short skirt on, a pair of high heels, and an Iron Maiden shirt that I cut up to the chest to reveal my mid-section, I walked out into the Chicago Summer Day.
“Ah yeah baby,” one of the construction workers began as he walked by with a wooden a plank as the others watched me pass by the site in awe. “I want to stick my jackhammer in you pothole.”
I gave a flirty smile and wink without saying anything else. The five men I walked by were transfixed on my rear end until I turned the corner. I felt the heat they were letting off; the desire they felt; the longing to get next to me, but what I initially fed off of was their hope. I loved that they thought that they had a snowball's chance in hell. I circled around the construction, making my way towards the hapless works again.
“Damn girl, the things I would do to DAT ASS!” A different worker yelled at me this time, but he was accompanied by hooting and hollering from the other four. Along with the wink and smile, I also waved to them. It immediately looked like the main one was hit with an arrow to the chest as he flustered that I gave him any kind of attention.
“Girl, I would bend you over and make you squeal for Jesus.” One worker said.
“Bitch, I am going to pull your hair and slap your ass so hard leaving a red mark.”
“I am going to pin you against the wall and choke you.”
Those were all uttered during my third go around ...this time I didn't pay them any attention. Due to the heat, I was beginning to sweat a bit, getting a nice glisten off of my legs and stomach. This time around, they were desperate; like dogs in heat they wanted it SO bad. They were even getting somewhat violent ...because the point of this exercise was sinking in now.
My fourth go around got the expected and intended results.
“Hey, you fucking cunt. Why don't you get down on your knees so I can shove my 8 inches down your throat so deep that you can't fucking breathe.”
“Yo Slut ...stop you fucking slut. Stop.”
“You God damn whore, I am going to give this to you, whether you want it or not. You will have no choice in the damn matter.”
I paid them no mind, but gave a wild smirk as I turned the corner again. THAT was how fragile the common blue collar worker psyche was; that was the mentality I was dealing with as it referred to my three opponents at Overdrive. It all begins as playful, turns into desire ...but that all leads to contempt and bitterness; it all leads to an overall understanding of their place in the universe. Something Jericho Salazar was feeling earlier this week. It wasn't anger towards me. Hell, even most of these workers that I was teasing weren't fueled by lust, but overwhelming frustration that women like me were on a whole other plain than me. This turned them angry and resentful ...and knowing that I was getting that kind of attention made me a bit horny. Not enough to pull one of those flat slobs aside and have my way with, but I was definitely very excited.
I took another lap.
“Come on please, baby, just look at me.”
“I will get you anything you want. Hundred dollar bills.”
“JUST FUCKING SAY SOMETHING TO ME! JUST STOP TORTURING ME!
Finally, I turned to them. They stared at me for a second, not knowing what to do. Instead of saying anything, I just blew them a kiss ...and it was as if they were pins that were hit by a bowling ball. Their tension finally eased, because I at least gave them some time of the day. The torture was finally over. They got something. Yes, it was scraps, but it was SOMETHING. For Blue collar workers, scraps are enough. For women like me, we want something more tangible; we DESERVE more than them.
As I am about to turn the corner again, I hand yanks my arm away from continually harassing the workers.
“What the hell are you doing?” Syxx said as it seemed as though she had been looking for me all over the place.
“I am having a little fun.” I answered with a casual shrug.
“Well, while you were doing that, the uber has been waiting for us, so he can drive you to the venue. Remember the match you have.” Syxx was pulling me toward the uber frantically.
“Yeah, where I get to have the same type of fun, putting some silly underlings in their place. You know, reminding them what I am, and just how sad they are; their place on the cosmic class system ...and how that will never change.” I calmly let her drag me. I liked the caress and forceful nature.
“Yes, you have given me the Gods and clods speech before and normally I whole heartily agree, but you need to be ready for this match. Yeah, two them are push overs, but this Jericho Salazar has some beef against you.”
“Oh come on, Syxx,” I began with a playful smile. “We both know that his beef is with the system he is in. He is going to try to kick my ass because he thinks his lot and life is unfair ...which is stupid because the system doesn't just favor women like me, it protects women like me. This is a can't win situation for him and he is an idiot for seeing it any other way.”
“The least you can do is be prepared to wrestle, I had to pack your gym bag for you. It is all in the car.” Syxx stopped pulling me and then looked at me with a frantic expression. “Last week, you were handed a guy fighting for a ham sandwich, but this week, you are facing at least one competitor who has something to prove. It is his debut match and he has just enough confidence to be a pain in your ass. Going into Beach Mania.”
I looked up and held out my arms, getting even more people staring at my perfection. “The event that I am the spokesperson for.”
“Not if you are humiliated by some nine to fiver.”
“That isn't ...”
“Yes, yes, you don't think it is a possibility and neither do I, but if he DOES somehow put one over on you, that is it. You being on the Beach Mania poster, title shots, any other big deal I have in the works, that is all out the window. You think Demon Joker, Shane Sayne, and Jericho Salazar are below you? Prove it. Come into this match knowing believing that your career is on the line ...because if you lose here, that halts any momentum you might have had. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, but ...”
“Jessica, DO. YOU. UNDESTAND. ME?” Syxx asked with with a deathly serious expression etched across her face.
I sighed to myself before answering her pointless question. “Yes, I understand and will win this match.
“Good, now get your ass into the car.” Syxx commanded of me.
“Only if you stare at intently as I do so.” I said with a sly smirk as she rolled her eyes.
“Fine, but make it quick,” she answered exasperated with me.
She stopped to admire my tush as I strutted to the car, opened the door, and then bent over to get in. I heard some more hooting and hollering from the construction site. God, laborers were so impressionable.
The secret of life is this: the world is just; the system is fair; those on top deserve to be there, while those on bottom have earned the rightful place on the bottom of my stiletto.
The American Dream? It is a lie we tell you, so can keep pumping our gas and busing our tables. When has the world EVER worked like the way the media describes it? Millenia of plague and famine taking out droves of poor, while the wealthy remain unscathed BEFORE the creation of America pretty much proves my point. That is where are Founding Fathers were smart. They had seen centuries worth of leaders and rulers come out, make their decree, only for arrogant, overzealous common folk being told the truth and form uprisings against their superiors. What were these people? Essentially, they were communists. Peasants who believed that because one person had something, that they were entitled to that same something, never taking into account why that person had power and wealth in the first place. Some people are born with minds for leadership; others naturally have a knowledge of finance and how to make money; others are cults of personality due to charisma or having an encompassing appeal to them. They have their power and riches because of natural selection, the fairest measuring stick of them all. Unfortunately, there is a whole 99 percent who believe that, even though they have shown no talent or skill in these areas, that they deserve the same kind of power. They ignore the fact that, if given control, that they would run any venture into the ground ...because people who labor, labor for a reason. That is what they are good at; that is what they were built for; that IS natural selection. That logic and reason didn't matter to them, because they were jelly before jelly was even a thing. Like petulant children throwing a fit before bed time, they revolted and created problems for those in power.
However, the people who built America were crafty, in that they learned from their predecessors mistakes. You can't build a nation, having to watch your back for some kind of uprising because the middle class are butt hurt that they are unremarkable. No, saying “this is the way it is and you are going to have to deal with it” was not the tactful way to go about it. So, when America was conceived, our found fathers lied through their wooden teeth. They told the working class that greatness CAN be achieved if they worked incredibly hard; that, in America, if you set your mind to it, you can even be President of the United States. Obviously, as I say this now, it sounds like a full of shit political promise ...BUT THAT IS HOW GULLIBLE THE 99 PERCENT IS. For as much as they are willing to revolt at the drop of a hat, all they really want is to be told that they CAN be equal. They desperately just want that carrot dangled in front of them. Like a dog, they just want something to chase ...even if that thing they are chasing is just their tail. And they shouldn't feel bad about this as, after all, they are still essential to the grand scheme of things. We are too smart, powerful, and good looking to wash our own dishes or cook our meals. We just have bigger fish to fry, which is why the Jericho Salazars of the world are incredibly important to us; why we need to make them believe that if they can dream, they can do it.
But, lets be brutally honest here, the system just doesn't favor them because they are replaceable cogs. If the guy who has to mop up my Eyes Wide Shut orgy mist slips on some stray jizz and breaks his leg, we replace him with another janitor from South of the Border who works for less, doesn't speak a lick of English, and won't fuck up (if he knows what is good for him.) It is a VERY essential vicious cycle, but one we have plenty of spare parts for. However, there are some parts that are incredibly hard to replace; parts that the system need to protect and favor because they are so valuable to the process. Obviously, you have your politicians that need to be in power, but more important to them are celebrities; yes, I am talking about myself. As much as we need great minds to come up with ideals, there is more of a demand for people that will sell you those ideals; convince you that yes, the American Dream is real, and YES, you can one day fuck someone that looks like me if you try REALLY hard. That is why I am so important to this current way of life. Because of my perfect ten body, and natural charm, I am indispensable in society. I am a cog that is not easily replaced.
That is why Shane Sayne, FatherUncleWarriorJokerWanker, and Jericho Salazar will not beat me at Overdrive. Firstly, as said, they were created limited, they have a ceiling in what they can achieve in general. Evolution never favored laborers that well as they will see on Sunday. No, it isn't a matter of class, but a matter of mentality. You cannot process the world in full if you have no scope in the first place. Salazar only sees things in his tiny microcosm. Does he THINK that he can see the big picture? Yes, of course he does, but that is only because of his poor upbringing and belief in the All-American that keeps people like him in the factories ...and typically, out of my wrestling ring. But like all Socialists before him, he is letting them make him arrogant; he is believing that he can actually make a difference; that he isn't one of those replaceable cogs that I have spares for in the closet. Salazar is beginning to think that he is an individual ...and that EVERYONE should work as hard as he does.
As I put on the shortest skirt that I had in my closet, I thought of ...and to be honest, I touched myself a little bit. You try thinking about proving a man's existence completely meaningless in a few hours and try not putting at least one finger in. It was gratifying sensation knowing that I was not just going to be beating up a bum this time, but three other men. But what sweetened the pot was that one of them was a bleeding heart who played a violin for himself because he “worked hard,” like that somehow made him special; that because he was stupid to believe promises hundreds of years dead men made that he deserved the same equal treatment as me. Or even more laughable, that because he goes into work everyday, gets paid minimum wage, and does overtime that he deserved MORE than me. That doesn't make you deserving, sweetheart, it makes you a fool. Again, it was going to be so much fun humiliating him in the ring that I rubbed it a little bit more. Somehow I was able to stop myself from indulging in the extreme gratification and focused on the matter at hand. With the short skirt on, a pair of high heels, and an Iron Maiden shirt that I cut up to the chest to reveal my mid-section, I walked out into the Chicago Summer Day.
“Ah yeah baby,” one of the construction workers began as he walked by with a wooden a plank as the others watched me pass by the site in awe. “I want to stick my jackhammer in you pothole.”
I gave a flirty smile and wink without saying anything else. The five men I walked by were transfixed on my rear end until I turned the corner. I felt the heat they were letting off; the desire they felt; the longing to get next to me, but what I initially fed off of was their hope. I loved that they thought that they had a snowball's chance in hell. I circled around the construction, making my way towards the hapless works again.
“Damn girl, the things I would do to DAT ASS!” A different worker yelled at me this time, but he was accompanied by hooting and hollering from the other four. Along with the wink and smile, I also waved to them. It immediately looked like the main one was hit with an arrow to the chest as he flustered that I gave him any kind of attention.
“Girl, I would bend you over and make you squeal for Jesus.” One worker said.
“Bitch, I am going to pull your hair and slap your ass so hard leaving a red mark.”
“I am going to pin you against the wall and choke you.”
Those were all uttered during my third go around ...this time I didn't pay them any attention. Due to the heat, I was beginning to sweat a bit, getting a nice glisten off of my legs and stomach. This time around, they were desperate; like dogs in heat they wanted it SO bad. They were even getting somewhat violent ...because the point of this exercise was sinking in now.
My fourth go around got the expected and intended results.
“Hey, you fucking cunt. Why don't you get down on your knees so I can shove my 8 inches down your throat so deep that you can't fucking breathe.”
“Yo Slut ...stop you fucking slut. Stop.”
“You God damn whore, I am going to give this to you, whether you want it or not. You will have no choice in the damn matter.”
I paid them no mind, but gave a wild smirk as I turned the corner again. THAT was how fragile the common blue collar worker psyche was; that was the mentality I was dealing with as it referred to my three opponents at Overdrive. It all begins as playful, turns into desire ...but that all leads to contempt and bitterness; it all leads to an overall understanding of their place in the universe. Something Jericho Salazar was feeling earlier this week. It wasn't anger towards me. Hell, even most of these workers that I was teasing weren't fueled by lust, but overwhelming frustration that women like me were on a whole other plain than me. This turned them angry and resentful ...and knowing that I was getting that kind of attention made me a bit horny. Not enough to pull one of those flat slobs aside and have my way with, but I was definitely very excited.
I took another lap.
“Come on please, baby, just look at me.”
“I will get you anything you want. Hundred dollar bills.”
“JUST FUCKING SAY SOMETHING TO ME! JUST STOP TORTURING ME!
Finally, I turned to them. They stared at me for a second, not knowing what to do. Instead of saying anything, I just blew them a kiss ...and it was as if they were pins that were hit by a bowling ball. Their tension finally eased, because I at least gave them some time of the day. The torture was finally over. They got something. Yes, it was scraps, but it was SOMETHING. For Blue collar workers, scraps are enough. For women like me, we want something more tangible; we DESERVE more than them.
As I am about to turn the corner again, I hand yanks my arm away from continually harassing the workers.
“What the hell are you doing?” Syxx said as it seemed as though she had been looking for me all over the place.
“I am having a little fun.” I answered with a casual shrug.
“Well, while you were doing that, the uber has been waiting for us, so he can drive you to the venue. Remember the match you have.” Syxx was pulling me toward the uber frantically.
“Yeah, where I get to have the same type of fun, putting some silly underlings in their place. You know, reminding them what I am, and just how sad they are; their place on the cosmic class system ...and how that will never change.” I calmly let her drag me. I liked the caress and forceful nature.
“Yes, you have given me the Gods and clods speech before and normally I whole heartily agree, but you need to be ready for this match. Yeah, two them are push overs, but this Jericho Salazar has some beef against you.”
“Oh come on, Syxx,” I began with a playful smile. “We both know that his beef is with the system he is in. He is going to try to kick my ass because he thinks his lot and life is unfair ...which is stupid because the system doesn't just favor women like me, it protects women like me. This is a can't win situation for him and he is an idiot for seeing it any other way.”
“The least you can do is be prepared to wrestle, I had to pack your gym bag for you. It is all in the car.” Syxx stopped pulling me and then looked at me with a frantic expression. “Last week, you were handed a guy fighting for a ham sandwich, but this week, you are facing at least one competitor who has something to prove. It is his debut match and he has just enough confidence to be a pain in your ass. Going into Beach Mania.”
I looked up and held out my arms, getting even more people staring at my perfection. “The event that I am the spokesperson for.”
“Not if you are humiliated by some nine to fiver.”
“That isn't ...”
“Yes, yes, you don't think it is a possibility and neither do I, but if he DOES somehow put one over on you, that is it. You being on the Beach Mania poster, title shots, any other big deal I have in the works, that is all out the window. You think Demon Joker, Shane Sayne, and Jericho Salazar are below you? Prove it. Come into this match knowing believing that your career is on the line ...because if you lose here, that halts any momentum you might have had. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, but ...”
“Jessica, DO. YOU. UNDESTAND. ME?” Syxx asked with with a deathly serious expression etched across her face.
I sighed to myself before answering her pointless question. “Yes, I understand and will win this match.
“Good, now get your ass into the car.” Syxx commanded of me.
“Only if you stare at intently as I do so.” I said with a sly smirk as she rolled her eyes.
“Fine, but make it quick,” she answered exasperated with me.
She stopped to admire my tush as I strutted to the car, opened the door, and then bent over to get in. I heard some more hooting and hollering from the construction site. God, laborers were so impressionable.
