Because I will be attending two Indie Wrestling events this weekend, one of them an AWF show, this week’s True Story is AWF related. This time the story actually involves me.
One of the biggest and baddest wrestlers on the west coast scene is the Bad Man From the Desert Sands, Clutch. A big, burly 300-pounder brawler, who can fly and show some great athleticism when he wants too.
This particular night he was wrestling as the heel. I, and the Wrestlementary, were sitting front row at the ring corner across from the ramp. Clutch came out, circled the ring, ignored people and prepared for battle.
I don’t remember who his opponent was, but I vividly remember that Clutch cornered the guy in the corner of the ring where we were sitting, climbed to the second rope and started hitting the guy. Then stopped.
This pissed me off. I yelled at Clutch, “Hit him again!” I cheered him on. Clutch hit him again. “Harder!” I yelled. Clutch obliged me.
“Hit him again. Rip him apart!” I yelled. I’m a fan of Clutch, even as a heel I wanted him to win.
So, what did Clutch do? The big bad heel.
He jumped down from the ropes, looked right at me, and said “What the hell is wrong you with?”
Yes, he broke character to admonish me for encouraging him to kill his opponent. In fact that was my response: “Kill him!”
It was actually hilarious and cool. The Bad Man From the Desert Sands, the heel who is supposed to hurt and maim his opponent on his way to victory, stopped in the middle of the match to admonish me for very vocally wanting him to hurt and maim his opponent on his way to victory.
I love Wrestling.
Ace.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Thursday, January 21, 2016
This is a True Story – Crazy Cookbook
Have you ever meet someone who, if you called them stupid, you would actually be complimenting them? I know a few like this.
This True Story is about one of these type of people, a former client of my mother’s, who had ‘her own’ cookbook.
About two years ago, Thanksgiving time, this client told us that every year at the Holidays she ‘publishes’ her cookbook. My mother honestly believed she published a yearly cookbook. I had my doubts.
Turns out, what she meant by ‘publish’ is that every year she sends a list of her recipes by e-mail to her family members throughout the country. She honestly believed sending out a personal e-mail made her a ‘published’ cook.
My mother, being the nice, kind, gentle soul that she is, offered my services to this woman as a publisher to actually publish her cookbook. Doing this was not something I wanted to do, but something I somehow got railroaded into.
I figured it might be worth a shot, and could make some money. I had a long talk with this woman, broke down the expenses of self-publishing, and told her what the costs would be, and my fees. I wasn’t doing this for free.
I told her the first things she needed to do was gather all her recipes into a folder or something similar so we could look at what she had and see what I had to work with.
She couldn’t seem to grasp three simple concepts:
She also couldn’t seem to grasp the simple concept of original ideas and ownership.
After about three weeks she finally presented me with her ‘cookbook.’ I admit, from the beginning I never wanted to do this, and didn’t feel comfortable dealing with someone so stupid. ‘Her’ cookbook was simply a scrap book of recipes torn out of cookbooks by famous chiefs. Rachael Ray, Emeril Lagasse, Giada De Laurentiis, Paula Deen, Martha Stewart . . . nothing in this book of hers was hers.
Plus, she wanted to publish it ‘as is,’ meaning she actually wanted to use the pages, images and everything that she ripped out of those cookbook. Because she liked them.
I tried to explain to her that not only wouldn’t I do this, I couldn’t do this. All these recipes were the property of other people, we couldn’t legally publish them as belonging to her, and we sure as hell couldn’t use the pages from other books.
I wasn’t going to work on or put out a book that violated copyright laws, trademarks, intellectual property laws and out-and-out plagiarism with my name attached as publisher.
To this past Thanksgiving, she still doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t publish the book.
If you think I am being harsh on her, consider this: her seven grandchildren have started a rock band called The Rolling Stones. Honestly. They named themselves after her favorite band. Neither she, her son nor the grandchildren see a problem with using the name Rolling Stones.
Ace
This True Story is about one of these type of people, a former client of my mother’s, who had ‘her own’ cookbook.
About two years ago, Thanksgiving time, this client told us that every year at the Holidays she ‘publishes’ her cookbook. My mother honestly believed she published a yearly cookbook. I had my doubts.
Turns out, what she meant by ‘publish’ is that every year she sends a list of her recipes by e-mail to her family members throughout the country. She honestly believed sending out a personal e-mail made her a ‘published’ cook.
My mother, being the nice, kind, gentle soul that she is, offered my services to this woman as a publisher to actually publish her cookbook. Doing this was not something I wanted to do, but something I somehow got railroaded into.
I figured it might be worth a shot, and could make some money. I had a long talk with this woman, broke down the expenses of self-publishing, and told her what the costs would be, and my fees. I wasn’t doing this for free.
I told her the first things she needed to do was gather all her recipes into a folder or something similar so we could look at what she had and see what I had to work with.
She couldn’t seem to grasp three simple concepts:
- I have published books in the past.
- Self-publishing cost money, and I wasn’t fronting the money for this.
- When we covered expenses, she that thought was what I was paying her. I was doing work-for-hire here.
She also couldn’t seem to grasp the simple concept of original ideas and ownership.
After about three weeks she finally presented me with her ‘cookbook.’ I admit, from the beginning I never wanted to do this, and didn’t feel comfortable dealing with someone so stupid. ‘Her’ cookbook was simply a scrap book of recipes torn out of cookbooks by famous chiefs. Rachael Ray, Emeril Lagasse, Giada De Laurentiis, Paula Deen, Martha Stewart . . . nothing in this book of hers was hers.
Plus, she wanted to publish it ‘as is,’ meaning she actually wanted to use the pages, images and everything that she ripped out of those cookbook. Because she liked them.
I tried to explain to her that not only wouldn’t I do this, I couldn’t do this. All these recipes were the property of other people, we couldn’t legally publish them as belonging to her, and we sure as hell couldn’t use the pages from other books.
I wasn’t going to work on or put out a book that violated copyright laws, trademarks, intellectual property laws and out-and-out plagiarism with my name attached as publisher.
To this past Thanksgiving, she still doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t publish the book.
If you think I am being harsh on her, consider this: her seven grandchildren have started a rock band called The Rolling Stones. Honestly. They named themselves after her favorite band. Neither she, her son nor the grandchildren see a problem with using the name Rolling Stones.
Ace
Thursday, January 14, 2016
HEY, HIS JACKET!
This THIS IS A TRUE STORY is something that happened recently, this year in fact.
This year is only 14 days old as of this writing, but I have already had some weird things happen . . . this story is the best so far. And it didn’t even happen to me!
2016 got off to a great start. On the second of January, my best friend and business partner, Dave Parrish, and I went to the Lucha Wrestling Unleashed event at the AWF arena in downtown Glendale, AZ.
No better way to kick off a new year then spending time with friends, hot girls and pro wrestling!
Anyway, the highlight of the night came from a wrestler called El something Loco, I’m not quite sure what his ring name is. I know he’s loco, and his act is almost XXX, so I’ll call him El XXX Loco. His gimmick is that of an apparently ‘femme’ camp counselor, reminds me of Meatballs.
He comes out in camp counselor gear, does a strip tease into his ring trunks. Then, at some point later, does a second tease and pulls his tights’ straps out his trunk. All in an overly exaggerated ‘femme’ manner. It really gets the crowd going, and gets him heat.
That is not the story though.
At this last event, while shielding our eyes from his actions, this little shit El XXX Loco, rolled out of the ring toward Dave and I. We had no idea what was going on. Dave was flabbergasted when Loco walked up beside him . . .
No warning. Nothing.
Worse part is Dave had his jacket on the back of the chair.
Dave was in shock. I started yellow at the little XXX, “His Jacket! His Jacket!” El XXX Loco ignored me, and others yelling at him, slide the chair under the ring and rolled back into the ring for his match. Dave didn’t have his chair or jacket, both were now under the ring.
Dave’s chair was replaced rather quickly by someone who works for the promotion, but his jacket was never retrieved.
El XXX Loco was quickly taken out of the match after a few seconds and never even used the chair.
At some point Dave got his jacket back, probably when I was getting a soda, of course it was dusty and dirty.
Other wrestlers at these events have taken our chairs, but usually they ask, or warn us . . . but they’ve never stolen personal property!
EL XXX LOCO?! EL THEIF!!
Ace Masters
This year is only 14 days old as of this writing, but I have already had some weird things happen . . . this story is the best so far. And it didn’t even happen to me!
2016 got off to a great start. On the second of January, my best friend and business partner, Dave Parrish, and I went to the Lucha Wrestling Unleashed event at the AWF arena in downtown Glendale, AZ.
No better way to kick off a new year then spending time with friends, hot girls and pro wrestling!
Anyway, the highlight of the night came from a wrestler called El something Loco, I’m not quite sure what his ring name is. I know he’s loco, and his act is almost XXX, so I’ll call him El XXX Loco. His gimmick is that of an apparently ‘femme’ camp counselor, reminds me of Meatballs.
He comes out in camp counselor gear, does a strip tease into his ring trunks. Then, at some point later, does a second tease and pulls his tights’ straps out his trunk. All in an overly exaggerated ‘femme’ manner. It really gets the crowd going, and gets him heat.
That is not the story though.
At this last event, while shielding our eyes from his actions, this little shit El XXX Loco, rolled out of the ring toward Dave and I. We had no idea what was going on. Dave was flabbergasted when Loco walked up beside him . . .
and YANKED the chair out from underneath Dave!
No warning. Nothing.
Worse part is Dave had his jacket on the back of the chair.
Dave was in shock. I started yellow at the little XXX, “His Jacket! His Jacket!” El XXX Loco ignored me, and others yelling at him, slide the chair under the ring and rolled back into the ring for his match. Dave didn’t have his chair or jacket, both were now under the ring.
Dave’s chair was replaced rather quickly by someone who works for the promotion, but his jacket was never retrieved.
El XXX Loco was quickly taken out of the match after a few seconds and never even used the chair.
At some point Dave got his jacket back, probably when I was getting a soda, of course it was dusty and dirty.
Other wrestlers at these events have taken our chairs, but usually they ask, or warn us . . . but they’ve never stolen personal property!
EL XXX LOCO?! EL THEIF!!
Ace Masters
Thursday, January 7, 2016
My The Coke Be With You
One more Star Wars related post for this first week of the New Year from me, and this one is a True Story.
Are you one of the millions of people who waited in the long lines for tickets to see Star Wars: The Phantom Menace? It was, after all, the first Star Wars film in sixteen year. I saw it opening day, with my dad (a fellow huge Star Wars fan). In fact until his death in 2010, I saw all the films with my dad.
I don’t feel that just because someone waits in a line for hours, or days, dresses up as characters from the film, makes them more of a fan then those who don’t. I never waited in line to see any of the film, and I didn’t for The Phantom Menace.
My dad and I bought are tickets weeks in advance. :-D
We arrived at the Harkins Theaters about a half-hour early, enough time to get drinks, popcorn and good seats. It was an early morning Friday showing, either nine or ten. When we arrived, there was a long line for the box office, people waiting to buy their tickets.
Yeah, I admit, the first thought going through my head was, “losers.”
As we walked up to the theater, people were getting pissed, many upsets that we, and others, were getting in before them because they had waited so long in line. I just decided to go into jackass mode.
I pulled out our tickets, held them up and started mocking the people in line. I let everyone in line who was pissed off know we bought advanced tickets. “We get to see the film, and you get to wait!” I remember shouting.
People weren’t happy about it.
In fact, someone from behind me beaned me with a full can of coke. At first I was pissed, until I saw the can of coke on the ground. It hadn’t burst. I picked it up, held it out and popped it. It fizzed up of course, but there was still a good amount of soda left.
Someone, probably the thrower, yelled, “ASSHOLE,” from the crowd.
I just held up the soda, tickets, said, “Thank you.”
Yeah, maybe I was being an asshole, but I had tickets to the movie, a free coke and saw the movie why they were still waiting in line.
Ass Hole, err, Ace Masters.
Are you one of the millions of people who waited in the long lines for tickets to see Star Wars: The Phantom Menace? It was, after all, the first Star Wars film in sixteen year. I saw it opening day, with my dad (a fellow huge Star Wars fan). In fact until his death in 2010, I saw all the films with my dad.
I don’t feel that just because someone waits in a line for hours, or days, dresses up as characters from the film, makes them more of a fan then those who don’t. I never waited in line to see any of the film, and I didn’t for The Phantom Menace.
My dad and I bought are tickets weeks in advance. :-D
We arrived at the Harkins Theaters about a half-hour early, enough time to get drinks, popcorn and good seats. It was an early morning Friday showing, either nine or ten. When we arrived, there was a long line for the box office, people waiting to buy their tickets.
Yeah, I admit, the first thought going through my head was, “losers.”
As we walked up to the theater, people were getting pissed, many upsets that we, and others, were getting in before them because they had waited so long in line. I just decided to go into jackass mode.
I pulled out our tickets, held them up and started mocking the people in line. I let everyone in line who was pissed off know we bought advanced tickets. “We get to see the film, and you get to wait!” I remember shouting.
People weren’t happy about it.
In fact, someone from behind me beaned me with a full can of coke. At first I was pissed, until I saw the can of coke on the ground. It hadn’t burst. I picked it up, held it out and popped it. It fizzed up of course, but there was still a good amount of soda left.
Someone, probably the thrower, yelled, “ASSHOLE,” from the crowd.
I just held up the soda, tickets, said, “Thank you.”
Yeah, maybe I was being an asshole, but I had tickets to the movie, a free coke and saw the movie why they were still waiting in line.
Ass Hole, err, Ace Masters.
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