You poor repressed child…

You poor repressed child…

Posted on July 3, 2024 at 8:16 pm by Bobbinette Carey

Poor repressed Michael best. Our thoughts are with him at this time, prayers and sorrows. It is so hard being a white guy who won a title at War Games! Well a title not the title..

But in a beauty pageant you have the winner first runner up second runner up… ect. This War Game id say I’d be Miss congeniality in that. I didn’t finish awful. I still scored pretty decently but I didn’t walk away with any titles or any flowers true. But Mike is the true victim here. 

 

The funniest thing is: Mike Best Best is who defeats Mike Best. Sure it says Christopher America beat Mike Best; but Mike Best’s own brain beat Mike Best. America got the better of you again. Tell me are you able to sleep with the stench of failure against America? Sure the injury is painful but nowhere near as painful as that 4 to 3. The record books will forever show you as second best War Games champion, that has to sting!

 

I’m on the receiving end of this tantrum that the man toddler is throwing. Why? I won’t give him the satisfaction he wants. He wants a challenge but on his terms. I’m surprised he doesn’t punch his fist through a wall with his tantrum. Mike’s like those nice guys who are mad that the woman chose the bear. They can’t understand because they’re such a “nice guy”…. It’s giving Andrew Tate vibes.

 

I guess we all see where Tyler gets his little tantrums from…maybe the Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

 

I myself tried to find a peaceful refuge away from wrestling and for a few months it worked! But her voice is there… in the back of my head… Makes me think of World War Hulk. Don’t worry I’ll save you the tldr: Marvel’s greatest minds thought they were sending Bruce Banner to a peaceful place where he would never have to be Hulk again and could know peace…

 

I was at peace. I had my peaceful planet and my happy ending. People can’t leave me alone. I notice everytime I come back I’m ripped away from my peace. I’m thrown into a warring planet where she lurks looking for an opening. Mike, my peace has been disrupted… Her voice gets louder and you instigate and taunt? You whine and cry because you want what you want.. You don’t know what you’re invoking. She becomes louder, a ringing in my ears. 

 

I’m over it! I’ll destroy this whiny privileged asshole! I’ll Fuck him up once and for all. Jesus fucking Christ if I have to hear him go on another God damn pitty party… Just get ready to square the fuck up. One armed having gimp ass, sit the fuck down!

 

The empty threats… the threat to kill me, the threat to use the “hard r,” if I don’t start doing what you want…it’s giving predator vibes, and not in the cat and mouse type; but more so than “we the jury find the defendant”…

 

Listen Micheal, now I know you got some big feelings going on inside. Clearly no one taught you how to properly process those. Sometimes when we have big feelings we say things out of anger, we explode instead of handling the real issues. I’m not the issue America is. You “respected me.” That’s what you said… It’s not like you don’t say anything you don’t mean? Making empty threats that you can’t possibly do single-handedly. (Pun very much intended.)

 

My hope is that someone please make you a lavender bubble bath with chamomile and give you a Vic rub down, put a Himalayan salt lamp on and have you center yourself. Because you’re a mess right now, which is your right. Your feelings are valid. But instead you misdirect those feelings and aim them at me. Let’s think about that, I’m not broken like you are. Let’s say you break a leg in the match … what you’re going to do be wheeled down to the ring? It’s shaping up to be pathetic for you’re proclaimed last year of wrestling.

I do have a question, How’s it feel to know that Ward is the one who pinned you? You pinned me at war games, so what? Ward my… whatever he is…pin to you. Again the bitter taste in your mouth of defeat cuz you lost not only to America you didn’t even come in second…or third for that matter you’re like the fifth…