(FADEIN to a what appears to be a small server room. A large stack of servers sits in a rackmount, piled in tightly. Looming in front of their glowing blue eyes is none other than Harold A. Lumbourgh, otherwise known as HAL. He seems to be struggling with something. He's wearing dirty jeans, Converse All-Stars, and a t-shirt which appears to say something in binary.)
HAL: "C'mon, you bastard... the private information store clearly has plenty of room left, the queues are empty, but Exchange just won't start... it's like the offline defrag ripped something out and didn't put it back... "
(He suddenly seems to notice the camera and becomes annoyed.)
HAL: "Oh well isn't that just perfect. I'm in the middle of an Exchange 2007 troubleshooting session and you just think I'm gonna drop everything for your whims. I swear, users have NO consideration. You just don't care, do you.
"Fine, then. The users can just deal with their cached email for all I care. I'm sure they'd hate to receive pertinent information at this point, would they.
"Jeff Jorgenson... the Greenhorn. Psht. Might as well call you The Nub for all I care. Cause that's what it sounds like. Like I have time for every Tom, D*ck, and Leroy Jenkins around here who feels like just running into a room full of whelps, but... I digress.
"The truth is, Jorgenson, I shouldn't hate you. You aren't TRYING to be a nub. It's just what you are. Not everyone has the innate knowledge to know how much faster the clock cycles are on the new i7's as I do, and there you are, going out and purchasing cheap-o AMD's like it's going out of style, AMIRITE?
"Son, the fact is, you're just a haggard P3 living in a Core 2 Quad world, and no amount of twenty-sided die is going to roll you a save here... cause me, I am epic and you are fail... I am lolcatz and you are a forced meme... need I go on?
"So go ahead and do your best.. I'll be right here, ready to swap out this failed Microsoft server with another brilliant Linux distro featuring the always wonderful qmail..
(FADEIN to a quiet basement. The man named Harold A. Lumbourgh, otherwise known as HAL, sits behind a Dungeon Master screen. Several other various fat nerds sit around in a circle. HAL describes the scene.)
HAL: "You've dome, finally, to the Cave of Proving. Only a single enemy remains. You tremble in your boots. You know you cannot stand against him. For he is the future, and you... you are nothing."
NERD ONE: "Wait, Harry... what?"
HAL: "You stand before the great... HAL... and you know... before you even begin... that it's.. over... "
NERD TWO: "Hey man! You said if we let you DM you'd stop with this nonsense! Nobody cares about f*cking Jeff Jorgenson! Nobody cares about YOU!"
(At this, HAL throws the board down and flips the table over. The other nerds cower before his enormous frame. He breaths heavily, cheetos covering his "No I Will Not Fix Your Computer" Thinkgeek.com t-shirt.)
HAL: "You guys just don't get it, do you?! I'm sittin' here playin AD&D 3 and you're back on version 2.0! Psionics are a thing of the PAST, MAN.
"So go back to your EverQuest, cause we've all moved on to WoW. Kil'Jaeden's DEAD, man.
"Jeff Jorgenson thinks he doesn't have to take me serious. Well I'm as serious as a semiconductor, my friend. And not that ancient 45 nm process you're used to. I'm a CLAY SUPERCOMPUTER BABY.
"So go ahead, Jeff. Say something, I dare you. Cause you and I both know... just like these guys...
"... you're about to get pwned."
(FADEOUT as they all burst out laughing, apparently in on the joke.)
(Fade in on the youtube loading screen. Jeff Jorgenson is seated on his couch, looking perplexed.)
Jeff "Greenhorn" Jorgenson: I haven't been in this business forever, so there are still things I haven't seen, heard, or experienced. HAL... I have no idea what I just watched. I have no idea what you were talking about. The only idea I seem to have is that you spend far too much time doing something that isn't training.
No one cares about all of your computer lingo. No one understands it. No one wants to hear about it. You know what they want to hear about? You know what they understand? Pro Wrestling! The wrestlers selling out the Omni in the 1980s didn't talk about their hard drives or RAM, they talked about their opponents and their professional wrestling prowess. The main event of an event at Madison Square Garden wasn't a tech support on a pole match, it was a contest between the best. That is what wrestling was about, and what it should be about.
I know the business has changed, but I don't think it has changed to the point where any of what you have said is relevant to our match. In fact, you seem like you are just ripping off a great in this business, my trainer Hacker. But while Hacker knew about computers, he wasn't consumed with them. He didn't talk about them endlessly, nor did he blow off his opponents to yammer on about endless technical terms and inside jokes.
Hacker may not have taught me everything he knew, but he sure taught me enough to beat a pale imitation. Hacker also taught me something important, to never write off an opponent. He told me you have to go out there every night and give it your all, and assume you are facing the best HAL possible. I have no idea how good the best HAL is, but I am not going to assume this is going to be a cake walk because you'd rather talk about everything other than professional wrestling.
While you were in the basement, I was in the gym. While you were at computer camp, I was competing for the state championship. While you were becoming a carbon copy, I was grinding away in community centers and armories, paying my dues. If I can't beat someone who thinks this is just a big joke, I don't belong in this business. And I know I belong in this business, so this is a match I intend to win.
It may be frustrating when someone bursts into the ring and costs you a win you have worked for, but that happens in wrestling. Things get personal. HAL doesn't seem to understand that, he lives in his own world. In fact, one of the only things he seemed interested in was "pawning" me. Well, you will have to work pretty hard to do that. You will also have to concentrate on something other than your mouse and monitor. You'll have to study your tapes... Well, I suppose someone like you doesn't watch DVDs of his opponents, he probably steals them off the internet, but study whatever you have to. Hit the gym. Run some laps, game plan.
(Fade in on Jeff "Greenhorn" Jorgenson adjusting his webcam in what appears to be a gym.)
Jeff "Greenhorn" Jorgenson: My sparring partner told me he saw my latest video and asked if I had seen what HAL had said. I said of course, I talked about it in the video. Just because I hadn't understood a word of it didn't mean I didn't listen to HAL. I was informed that HAL has spoken AGAIN, and I felt it was my duty to once again sit down and see what my opponent had to say.
Once again, it felt like a waste of my time. Is this guy even a wrestler? Was there a mix up and WFW booked a guy playing the WFW video game online?
HAL, you understand that this is professional wrestling? I suppose a professional wrestling can be a useless dork, an annoying spaz, a catch phrase spewing tool, but, that dork, spaz or two would still need to be a wrestler to qualify.
What joy do you get out of wrestling HAL? How could you possibly enjoy anything that involves actual, human passion. That requires physical as well as mental fitness. Something that demands you pay attention, that you keep your eye on the ball, and that you never underestimate your opponent.
The only part of your game seems to be attempting to make your opponents underestimate you.
Maybe this is a game, and you aren't a dork who cares more about whatever nonsense you spew than your matches. Maybe you just want us to think that. I guess that would be an advantage.
It would also be a massive disadvantage, considering how much work you have put into this. What happened to the joy of wrestling. HAL, don't you care about the roar of the crowd? The thrill of combat? Everything that makes this sport great?
Have you even mentioned a thing about this match? Do you even know you are booked in one? Do you know anything other than some computer terminology no one finds funny except for pale, ugly, overweight dorks in their parents' basements?
Do you have any clue the work ethic someone like me has? Someone who has clawed his way up, someone who loves this sport and loves the greatest fans in the world?
Beyond that... do you have any clue how that spirit of competition, the dedication and the will to win increases when you are screwed out of your first chance to shine on the biggest stage? All of my work went for naught when someone decided to inerject themselves into my first match here in WFW: NE. Do you think I am going to let anything get in the way of scoring the biggest win of my career?
Because I will not let someone who doesn't care about this sport, who doesn't care about the fans, and who damn sure doesn't care about his opponent get in my way!
Your pointless ramble will come to an end when the Greenhorn gives you something to worry about other than video games, message boards and acne. I will make you respect this business, and respect me.
(FADEIN to a quiet room where none other than Harold A. Lumbourgh sits, having just finished a workout. He's wearing a tanktop that barely covers his enormous, musclebound frame. Noticeably absent are his glasses and nerdwear. He wears typical workout windbreaker pants. The gym around him is the latest in technology, with push-button weight changing and all-cable technology.)
HAL: "So I'm a pale imitation, am I, Jeff? Just a joke version of your buddy Hacker? Who, I suppose, is some kind of, uh, legend in your mind?
"Y'know, Jeff, you talk about how important it is to keep from being overconfident, but then you go ahead and explain how while I was learning about all my fancy nerd lingo, you were off fighting for state championships. Like anybody cares.
"Let me tell YOU something, you nobody. I don't care who trained you. I don't care what you think about the new Core i5's. And I CERTAINLY don't care that you are enough of a knuckle-dragger to think I would ever stop training my body OR my mind.
"What you call obsession I call a quest for truth. There is beauty in the baud... simplicity in the technology. Simply because you are incapable of understanding does not make it irrelevant.
"Quite the opposite, in fact.
"You talk about respecting your opponent and then you call me a big joke. I got a word for you, pal: hypocrite. You might have to go ahead and check out Dictionary.com and look that one up.
"Go on then, Jeff. Mock me from your ancient gym.
"You talk about pale, fat, underage nerds like they don't pay our salary, buddy. At least I know who my fans are, you arrogant jerk. Sure, maybe most of my fans have more than 4 level 80 toons in WoW, and sure, they probably even dressed up as Sylvannas... but hey: I'd rather they did something they cared about than sit back and mock what they don't understand.
"Jocks like you will never get it. You talk about passion but you have none. You can't see the beauty of an electron pulse traveling down the copper. The elegance of a resistor. The savage caress of a sine wave.
"And all those nerds out there, building you a better gym, a better car, a better way to deliver clean, efficient fuel.. you mock them.
"You assume this, you assume that. Perhaps you are simply incapable of scientific thought. Because you know nothing of me, you assume I'm some lifeless geek who cannot be reasoned with.
"You talk about the spirit of competition and dedication and all this snazzy stuff like I'm supposed to care.
"You, my friend, are nothing but a halfwit playing with a genius. And your buddy Hacker? He's just a Script Kiddie who downloaded AOHell and thought that made him leet. Well it doesn't. He's just a nobody like you.
"And when it comes time for Almost Live, you are going to learn a valuable lesson: just because you SAY you shouldn't underestimate your opponent doesn't mean you're smart enough to avoid doing it. I think you've proven that with your incoherent, illogical thoughts.
"At Almost Live, you will feel the embrace of Control-Alt-Delete. You will know that your process has crashed and burned, and I will reap your memory and return it to the source.
"See, Jeff.. it's not underestimating when you KNOW you're dealing with an idiot.
"It's just epic pwnage."
(FADEOUT to his smirk as he starts working out again.)
(Fade in on Jeff Jorgenson. The scene appears to be the back of his van, with the glow of the computer screen visible in the weak dome light.)
Jeff "Greenhorn" Jorgenson: I see that I finally got your attention. It is nice to be insulted, degraded, and mocked for a change. It sure beats hearing incomprehensible garbage.
HAL, I'm glad to have an opponent who finally realizes he's in a wrestling match.
Sure he is a wrestler with some distractions, but that is natural.
You say I don't know who pays my salary, who the fans are, and a million other things... but I do. I know my fans. They don't talk about pawning people. They don't talk about computers they talk about classics. In fact they don't use any of your lingo, they don't think about what you think about, and are about as far from you as possible.
They care about the beauty of grappling, not some modem. They care about wrestlers, not their pointless hobbies. Why would anyone care about THE STAMP COLLECTOR? Or a guy who loves riding horses. Actually, he wouldn't just love riding horses, because you love technology a lot more than that. A man would have to want to have sex with horses to match your passion for your internet diversions.
And I can honestly say no one wants to cheer for a beastiality hobbyist.
So the question remains, why did you waste so much time with your little "nerd" friends, your rambling on about this and that computer device or term, and other things that have nothing to do with our match? To show you have a personality? First of all if your entire personality is based around one tiny subset of human activity, that is pretty sad and no one could possibly care about you. Especially in the wrestling ring. I too am single minded, but at least it is about the sport I compete in, professional wrestling.
Only one truth matters in that ring, and that is the truth of which man can push his body further. Which of us is capable of drawing on that crowd, drawing on our experience, and taking every muscle fibre in our body and channeling that energy into the strength to overpower, out wrestle and out think the other man.
I think my mind is more focused.
I've already had my run ins with frustration in WFW NE. I have re-dedicated myself.
Your fans, should they exist should worry if you have.
But as for me, when my music plays, and charge out of that curtain, I am one with the people. I've been driving the roads of this country from show to show, and now I feel like I've found a home. I feel like I've found an audience. People who love this business as much as I do. People who remember what wrestling was, when it wasn't a bunch of computer loving dorks and violence obsessed golems. When wrestlers were wrestlers, and not geeks. When they cared about wrestling.
The fans still care about wrestling.
They want to see wrestlers who care about it too.
And HAL, I care about wrestling. I don't care about stupid references, terms, jokes, or whatever. None of that matters in the ring.
(FADEIN to a darkened room where only the faint blue glow of a monitor lights up the face of Harold A. Lumbourgh, better known as HAL. He seems to be typing furiously, his eyes narrows in concentration at the screen. He barely slows down typing as he speaks, quietly but surely.)
HAL: "You just don't get it, do you, Jeff. Despite your young age, you are but a relic of an obsolete culture. A fossil to be left behind for more educated evolutionary steps.
"The fans care about the beauty of grappling? Maybe 50 years ago, Jeffy. Y'know how many times your typical fan checks Facebook in a day? 1200.
"Heck, the only reason they know so much about you is because people like ME have admin access to Wikipedia. WE define the truth now.
"You talk about my personality as a one-dimensional point. You say nobody cares.
"It's sad, Jeff. In a way, I pity you. The whole world is passing your kind by and you lack even the knowledge to know. After all, if you aren't checking Slashdot, Digg, and Reddit, how would you even know? Who would even tell you?
"So you criticize what you cannot understand. You call me a nerd... and you call us all nerds. You look down upon us. Your kind always has.
"The ignorant and unwashed masses. Probably voted for Dubya. Twice.
"Well whether you like it or not, the times, they are a-changin'. The world is connected now. We are all one voice, connected by twisted pairs of copper and sliding into RJ-45 jacks. Sending pulses down the line.
"You can push yourself as hard as you want. I am the next evolutionary step. I will always be one step ahead of someone like you. Because I can embrace change. I can ride the wave.
"Still you cling to this old lifestyle, this purity of the sport. A sport you barely know. Yet you criticize me.
"No amount of obsession will save you, Jeff. No amount of simple-mindedness and ignorance about a sport you claim to understand.
"I don't care who you trained under.
"I am the future of this sport, and you are its past. I am an OC3 connection, and you are 56K dial-up. I am HD, and you are 480i.
"I know you can't understand the words I'm saying. And I know you think that simply because I'm smarter, more advanced, another evolutionary step, that I can't get it done in the ring.
"But much like the embrace of technology that has changed the way in which we live, I, too, shall surpass your expectations and understandings. For all your posturing, you are just a man who thinks muscles and sheer will can save the day.
"A true champion... the next evolutionary step, though... it's not here... "
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