Dead Horses YAY!

There is not a single thing in this world I enjoy doing more than beating a dead horse! Seriously. So allow me to begin by saying THANK YOU!

Thank you, my dear Simon. For giving me this opportunity to whale away.

A few days ago I suggested that you should perhaps do a little homework before you open your mouth. Sadly, I see that you didn’t take me up on my friendly advice. It would have saved you from yourself. Because after seeing what you last said, I now understand that you don’t know shit about me.

I want to say that that’s okay, just brush it off like it doesn’t bother me. But in all honesty, I’m hurt by this. My ego is vast. I Google myself almost daily. I check the Discord just about every 20 minutes, just to see if someone has mentioned my name. I quit and return to HOW time and time again just so people can talk about how much they love having me back. In fact, here is a little secret just between us friends. I quit so often because after a short period of time the adulation I feel when I first return wanes. I’m once again, just ole Bobby Dean. Doing what Bobby Dean does. Ho-hum, by golly.

When my welcome wears thin, I pack my shit. Wait a week or two, or a month or three. And then I’m back, and suddenly I’m walking through the doors and everyone treats me like Norm from Cheers! Unlike you, I want to be liked by my peers. So I soak it up as long as I can before I’m once again just another fly on the wall.

I suddenly realize there is another thing I like to do outside of beating horses! It is to get lost in a tangent! We were talking about how you have no fucking clue who I am, and how much that stings.

Let’s clear the air for a minute. No, I was not bullied as a child. Nor was I fat. I didn’t give off the Uncle Creepy vibes when I got my start. The nickname “Beautiful” Bobby Dean wasn’t some ironic moniker that I gave myself. You know, like a 6’-9” 400 lbs guy named “Tiny”.

*Whack*

This is getting to be redundant (which makes me giddy!). It’s not even just you, Simon. It’s a lot of people in the HOW locker room. They’re so fixated on my weight they refuse to open their eyes. Here, let me link you to my bio, https://howrestling.com/wrestlers/bobby-dean/. You don’t even need to read the full thing, but do me a small favor; pop in there and just pay attention to one little line. It’s really rather fascinating, you see, under the “Weight” category you will no longer see 368 ½ lbs. Nor will you see 333 lbs. Nor even 299 ½ lbs.

You get the point I’m trying to make here right? Or shall I make my obvious point even more so?

Does it even matter? Honestly. I could run down the list, refuting point after point after point. But it doesn’t change a thing. After our match together at Refueled XLIX you and I will likely never interact with the other again. Come Saturday night, I’ll have secured the victory, and my advancement in the tournament you don’t want to win. And by Sunday, you’ll likely be gone again, because who could continue claiming to be this beast of a man, after having lost to ME!?

I’ll be sad to see you go, but hey! You were right about one thing. You were 100% correct when you said we have nothing in common. And nothing makes me happier knowing how right you are! Well, nothing except beating dead horses, of course.