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Continuity & Reality
Topic Started: Nov 17 2015, 10:55 PM (75 Views)
SaviourSelf
Seasoned Professional
Posted Image

-Alex LeBlanc is sitting in all black, the black jacket hiding the Derek Carr jersey on underneath it and sitting loosely above the dark denim jeans that form to his legs and come to an end above the surgically repaired ankles and the Nike Zoom Airs that adorn his feet. LeBlanc is sitting at a wooden table outside of 4505 Divisadero Street in San Francisco, 4505 Burgers and BBQ to be exact. As he sits there with a Smoked Meat Plate of brisket, pulled pork shoulder and pulled smoked chicken in front of him, LeBlanc waits for the PRW camera to blink and offers the cameraman some food as he waits for his cue.-

Alex, commencing: You know, San Francisco is a dirty, grimy city. You wouldn't know it because everyone just imagines Golden Gate Park or the "Full House" Row Houses, the trolleys and all the bullshit, but the reality of it is that you have actual street hookers walking down the center of town in broad day light around here. You have drug deals going down in the Mission District while kids are just getting out of school. San Francisco, is a double-fisting, heavy-drinking, take no prisoners sort of town, full of martinis, vice cops, steaks, chain-smoking and a 1920s "I-don't-really-give-a-fuck" mentality. That part of the town is up my alley.

-Alex picks at the BBQ plate in front of him and takes a bite, swallows and then continues.-

Alex: For example, this place, this place is in one of the "seedier" parts of town. There's 4 strip clubs, 8 bars, and a "nightlife" district within earshot of where I'm sitting right now. That said? If you walk two blocks over, the Headquarters of Google is right there. Changing times, ladies and gentlemen.

You see, 4505 Burgers & BBQ, Divisadero Street, hell...San Francisco as a whole is suffering from this hoarde of neck-beards and man-bun wearing idiot-savants who came to this city with their vapes and their dot-com bullshit, buying artisanal coffee and putting up pop-up stands that lie just a few hundred yards from here.

Essentially, the city itself is being leeched by this invasion of what's new and hip. The triumph of the "Flavors of the Weak", if you will. The more I sit here and watch it though, the more I realize that moving here and establishing my gym and my life here was the right plan, naturally fitting, if I do say so myself.

-Alex leans back in his chair and looks around, chuckling a bit.-

Alex: It's always fun when the nouveau rich try to come down and establish themselves as the new status-quo. It's always entertaining to watch the newly-minted try to plant their flag, but it often doesn't work and it's often transparent. In this city, you can tell who the invaders are just by looking around. You can look at their messenger bags and their Vineyard Vines "try-too-hard" dress shirts or the J.Crew "take-me-seriously" cardigan sweaters and just tell that it's a front.

It's the same way in PRW, when you have established norms and standards, established protocols challenged by men who think that because they finally got some small modicum of success, they can call the shots, make the rules, change the game and assert their position.

New money and new success suddenly walk around like they belong, they puff their chest, get some bass to their voice and they sound off like they finally found their balls, but the reality is that when you look one of these little gutter-punks in the eye, when you look one of these peasants in the eye, you see nothing but a scared child staring back at you. You see a little kid wearing clothes that don't quite fit, standing in shoes that won't ever fill.

-Alex takes the knife that's on the table and he picks it up between his fingers and starts turning it, looking in the reflection of it.-

Alex: That little gutter punk? That's Patrick Slaughter. He's the kid who went to the store, got the new duds, bought himself some nice dress shoes, bought that Acqua di Gio from Perfumania, pumped himself up a few times and then went in front of his peers and said, "I'm the man now! Look at me! Respect me!"

...But when you looked in his eyes, and you looked deep into his soul and you saw Patrick for what he was, you realized that deep down, he didn't believe his own hype. Better yet, you saw that for all the strength he portrayed, the leadership he tries to display with his Onslaught and the badass persona he tries to script, the man just doesn't have it.

If you listen deep enough, you can hear the doubts that keep Patrick Slaughter awake enough. If you read between the lines of his last interview, you could hear Patrick Slaughter say, "You know what? I'm not nearly as good as Alex LeBlanc".


-Alex turns back at the camera and puts the knife down and shrugs, almost mocking apologetic.-

Alex: And that's okay! That's fine! Not everyone can be a legend, Pat. Somebody has to be the also-ran, somebody has to be Steve Bono. Someone has to be Don Strock. Someone has to be Marino's backup. There's nothing wrong with that!

But where you, and the nerds in this city go wrong is that you people think you OWN something. You believe you're better than you are. You have this dangerous belief in yourselves that you're the newest, best and brightest thing to come down the pike. You have this mindset like you're the new "Chosen Ones', the elected few to carry us forward. You have this belief in yourselves like you're in control somehow. Like you're God's "Special Little Snowflake" or some shit...

-Alex chuckles to himself, grabs the knife and then stabs it down, spearing it down into the meat so that the knife stands straight up, emphatically.-

Alex: Me, and people like me, Patrick... we're the Rainmakers, we're the storm that washes you away, Snowflake. We're the established norm, the status-quo. We're the standard-bearers, the torch carriers and the methods set. We're continuity when people like you try to bring chaos and disruption. We're the great equalizing force. We're old money, old scotch, old world, but same results.

-Alex just laughs, leaning forward toward the plate.-

Alex: Obsessed with your story? No, Patrick, I'm just the regulator. I'm Checks & Balances when you decide it's time to follow YOUR obsession and venture off into a Brave New World. I'm the man tasked by the world, and this industry, to keep you in your lane, and continue to show you whether it be by nurture or by force that you just aren't as good as me.

You're going to learn, Patrick, that you're not on my level. You're going to learn that when you were busy counting sheep in desolate hotel rooms with Takato, I was counting accolades, championships and victories. You're going to learn that just as I was back then, I'm miles ahead of you and everyone else.

Be it by book or by brick.

-Alex stands and goes to leave, but he stops for a minute and lets Slaughter hang on this one last statement.-

Alex: I'm the man, Patrick, who keeps you from chasing windmills and pursuing dreams you're never going to achieve..

You're obsessed with the glass ceiling I placed over your head and shattering it once and for all.

-Alex clicks his tongue and pulls a cigarette, lighting it.-

Alex: I'm the man whose always added the panes.
- 4x PRW Undisputed Champion
- 2x World Tag Team Champion
- 8x Cyanide Champion
- PRW Intercontinental Champion
- PRW Triple Crown Champion
- PRW Grand Slam Champion
- PRW Hall of Famer
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