[Session #7] It's All in the DNA
Jul 30, 2013 1:54:23 GMT -5
Post by Jerry on Jul 30, 2013 1:54:23 GMT -5
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Desperate times call for desperate measures.
It was the social media event of the summer, and I was going to miss it because Dom Harter couldn’t keep his filthy hands off of my property. Maybe he had planned it all this way since the aforementioned event involved his personal life crumbling in front of the entire Twitter universe. I didn’t know, and didn’t care. All I knew was that I had to get my hands on a new iPad, and I’d do anything to make it happen.
It’s not like I had many options at my disposal. The old man was being tighter than ever with the funds and Tiffany refused to strip for the cash this time. Something about maintaining more of a professional image as her preliminary hearing was coming up in the Justice Young matter. My FGA contract surely didn’t provide an avenue; I barely had enough money from that to last me until the next show.
I don’t get royalties from t-shirt sales like these other guys do. The company hasn’t seen fit to promote its most talented tag team for some reason. Meanwhile assholes like The Murder, A.J. Fairchild, and even Michael Tomkins have their own FGA branded shirts; it’s downright criminal.
There was only one way to make it happen.
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
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- A little over two weeks ago…
:Sometimes a face can be too easy to read, and right now the expression on Chris Tryon’s face oozes complete annoyance. Perhaps it’s because it’s been two weeks since he’s been able to participate in his newfound hobby? Perhaps it’s because the slightly used iPad that Tiffany Lawrence Michaels procured for him didn’t come with the Apple care plan? Perhaps it’s the incessant clicking of a pen, held by the frail thin gentlemen behind the desk he’s sitting in front of?:
Click…click…click…click…
:Yeah, that would be it. Each click seems to result with an irritating shudder from the young rookie. His tormentor dawns thick eyeglasses, a buzzcut, and a short-sleeve white dress shirt with a black tie. Only a complete douchebag wears a short-sleeve dress shirt with a tie; he looks eerily similar to Michael Douglas’s character in the movie, Falling Down. The man appears to be studying a clipboard in his left hand as he ceaselessly continues the clicking.:
Click…click…click…click…
:Somehow Tryon keeps his cool, which is amazing since normally he speaks before he thinks; just ask Dom Harter. Chris clears his throat and straightens the front of his black t-shirt, revealing what could only be a custom made slogan: #NoOneCaresTomkins – a trend from the Twitterverse created by the brilliant mind of Chandler Scott. The man finally looks up from his clipboard, eyeing Chris with an uneasy glance before returning to the clipboard.:
Man: So, exactly what makes you feel that you’re qualified to be a donor?
:Chris’s eyes begin dancing, looking for an answer, before a smirk emerges on his face.:
Tryon: Are you kidding? Look at me. I’m in peak physical condition, a damn handsome man, and my intelligence is far above average. Consider me to be the opposite of… Well, you.
:That’s right Chris, insult the man who decides if you get to enter one of those back rooms with the Perfect Ten magazines in the back. At this rate, his bright idea on how to replace his iPad is sure to end in disaster:
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I know what you’re thinking, and quite frankly I could care less. I’ll admit it was humiliating walking into that clinic and being interrogated by some pencil pusher to ensure that I was fit to be a donor. I’m almost as shocked as you are right now at having my pedigree questioned. How could any woman in her right mind NOT want to have my seed as the source for a genetically superior offspring? Even couples where the man wasn’t experiencing fertility issues should scramble at the chance, knowing that my DNA was available in the system, to produce a more talented child than they could ever dream of creating on their own.
In any event, it worked. Not only did I have enough money to buy a new iPad, I was even able to buy the Apple care plan for two years just in case Dom Harter tried to silence the Pulitzer Prize worthy Twitter writings of Chris Tryon again. It’s obvious that you’ve become obsessed with me, Dom. Why else would you make your presence known during our match with the Marios?
You’re beginning to see the writing on the wall just like everyone else in this company. The Usual Suspects are an unstoppable force who will not fall short of becoming the first ever Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Champions. It’s going to take more than elementary mind games with distractions to eliminate us from our destiny. One way or the other, we will achieve what’s rightfully ours; destroying the parasites who are trying to lay claim to titles they have no business in competing for.
I really hope you and your boy beat the U.K. Dragons next Saturday. It would be a shame if The Suspects won the titles against anybody else. As much as I despise you Harter, I hate the fact that we both are subjecting ourselves to lesser opponents that aren’t even proper members of this promotion. So a word of advice to you; forget about the Usual Suspects for one more show. I want you to be at your best when you prim your fauxhawk up with your greasy hair products, walk down that aisle, and do what needs to be done for this company. Save it from its own erroneous actions and stop all forms of “incremental degradation.”
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
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:Overcast cloud cover hides the sun on this dreary day in Clifton, New Jersey outside of M.A.Z.E. Laboratories. A triumphant Chris Tryon exits the building after receiving payment for making a deposit. He walks down the steps to a waiting car parked in front of a meter with an irritated Tiffany Lawrence Michaels standing by, wearing faded jeans, and a tight fitting Victoria’s Secret “Pink” t-shirt that seems to be the current rage among the superficial females these days.:
Tiffany: What took you so long? I’ve had to put in two dollars worth of quarters in this thing.
Tryon: Don’t blame me; blame the material that they have in those rooms. An upgrade, to say the least, is definitely needed. Anyway it worked.
:Chris pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and Tiffany’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.:
Tryon: Needless to say, there’s going to be quite a bit left over after I get my new iPad. Now let’s go, we’ve got to get this car back to that comic book guy before 6.
Tiffany: Whatever, he’s lucky I let him keep that tape in exchange for the use of the car. I still don’t get how that geek can afford a vehicle like this. Who knew there was so much money in comics?
:Before them sits a 2005 black Corvette that looks in almost mint condition.:
Tryon: There’s not, his dad is some big shot real estate guy. Don’t you watch Big Bang Theory?
:The couple enter the vehicle with Tryon taking the wheel. The engine starts with authority as we cut to the inside of the vehicle. Tryon quickly shifts and dangerously peels out onto the street. Tiffany is hanging onto the inside passenger door grip for dear life.:
Tiffany: CHRIS, SLOW DOWN!!!
Tryon: I told you, I promised him we’d have the car back to him by 6. It’s at least a 13 minute drive back to Bloomfield with the traffic on the Garden State Parkway.
Tiffany: YOU’RE GOING TO GET US KILLED!!!
:Tryon suddenly makes another shift as the speedometer quickly jumps to 50mph.:
Tryon: No way baby, I’m a fit, lit, clutch pounding pimp! Sit back and enjoy the ride.
:The vehicle makes a sudden swerve onto the toll way entrance ramp, resulting in a loud shriek from Ms. Michaels.:
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I’ve been called arrogant.
I’ve been called an asshole.
I’ve been called an entitled man-child who exploits people and refuses to take responsibility when the consequences arrive.
That one is my favorite. Thank you Alexia Brandt.
It’s been approximately two months since The Ususal Suspects graced this company and its fans with greatness. To be honest, those accusations and the actions of FGA management have me feeling unappreciated right now. Is this any way to treat the man who happens to be carrying the only legitimate tag team here?
The worst kept secret in this sport is that Frontier Grappling Arts is one of the hottest independent promotions in the nation. This company has spent the last two years filling a vacuum for true fans of this sport by showcasing the most talented young stars. This place has the potential to grow into something truly special and that’s why I agreed to sign on with my partner in May.
The Usual Suspects have initiated the process of FGA’s evolution to true progress and growing media attention. This is not arrogance talking, it’s simple fact. All successful national wrestling promotions have possessed tag team titles since the mid 70s; belts notably absent since this company’s inception. So we signed here, agreeing to legitimize the virtually non-existent tag team division. What thanks have Jason Marx and Chris Tryon received for this act of kindness?
The Motto…
KoolStorm…
Super Mario Wrestling Brothers…
We’ve been reduced to wasting our abilities by eliminating posers, trouncing lackeys, and wrestling a video game parody. There haven’t been any bigger opponents of FGA’s own “incremental degradation” than The Usual Suspects. We’ve discussed it for far too long now without any satisfying results from management. The time to protest is over; the time for action has begun.
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:The inside of the Suspect’s meager apartment hasn’t changed much since the last time we viewed it. Noticeably new is a small round oak dining table that garnishes the previously vacant space behind the black leather sectional. The sound of keys can be heard jiggling the lock free, followed by the door opening to the entrance of Chris and Tiffany. Tryon appears to be cradling the box containing his brand new iPad as if it were a newborn baby. Tiffany smacks him on the shoulder.:
Tiffany: That’s the LAST time I ever let you drive me anywhere!!!
Tryon: Quit your whining, I made great time…
:Chris pauses, noticing that the place seems eerily quiet.:
Tryon: Hey, where’s the old man?
Tiffany: How should I know? I don’t keep tabs on him.
:Tryon walks over to the door leading into Jason’s bedroom, opening before knocking as ususal.:
Tryon: He’s not here…
:Tiffany seems to spot something out of place on the dining table, walks over and grabs a scribbled on sheet of paper.:
Tiffany: “Hey kid, I had to make a trip out west to Seattle to see an old friend. I left you some spending money on your dresser. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, and don’t you dare spend that money on a damn iPad. I’ll be back in plenty of time for our match with the Marios. I left some DVDs of their matches on the player, you need to study them. Things are going to start getting tougher from this point forward. – Marx”
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Funny relationship I got with the old man. I know I completely disrespect him on Twitter, at home, on the road, in the locker room… Well, you get the picture. At the end of the day, all that is just good natured ribbing. Perhaps sometimes I take it too far --- Who am I kidding, sometimes he’s just too damn sensitive. Nevertheless when we step through those ropes, all of our differences seem to vanish and we become a fucking machine hell bent on victory to achieve one goal – the mid-Atlantic tag team titles.
Our next match has been built up as something different. The Suspects have actually been labeled as the underdogs by the so-called experts in what they call our first true test in FGA. That’s an interesting concept, considering the fact that one of our opponents hasn’t earned a clean win since I’ve been a member of this roster. Contrary to popular belief, we enter Richmond, Virginia to do more of the same; destroy two posers who stand in the way of our greatness, our titles, and our destiny.
The moment I say this will result in cries of arrogance and disrespect from everybody in that locker room. I’m assuming that even my tag team partner is going to chastise me for looking past Bad Attitude. Nothing could be further from the truth; I’m relishing the moment I get to step in that ring and finally silence my doubters. Circle your calendars for Saturday, August 3rd. The Usual Suspects make a statement when we face Mike Tomkins and Adam Stryker.
I, along with the rest of this locker room, have endured Tomkins’ delusional and hypocritical comments on social media for far too long. It’s becoming obvious that Ben Hanson dropped you on your head one too many times. You’re in the midst of an identity crisis, Tomkins. One minute you claim to be the man who built FGA into the company it is today, the next minute you claim that you’re the forsaken son who’s come home to burn it to the ground; interesting comments from the man that’s signed up to represent this company in the upcoming FGA – Frontier show.
You and Stryker are both busy these days aren’t you? While you’re signed up to represent FGA, he’s signed up to represent Frontier. You’re both wreaking havoc in that cesspool of a company, PWX, and you’re also on a quest to become the first ever triple crown winner in FGA by inserting yourself in the Pride title hunt. This is your weakness. Just like you both pointed out the increasing demands Heather Halliwell has undertaken between PDW, Exodus, and FGA, Bad Attitude has finally bitten off more than they can chew. The burden that you’ve placed on yourselves by entering this tournament along with every other piece of your “master plan” is only going to take its toll on you. Everybody has a breaking point and Bad Attitude will be running on fumes come Richmond.
The Usual Suspects have one sole purpose that hasn’t changed since we made our debut; becoming the first ever tag team champions in FGA. It’s this single minded focus that gives us the edge over Bad Attitude. We’re not signed up with other companies; we don’t have other titles to defend. We just continue to make good on our original promise despite our growing number of non-believers and haters.
So light your cigarettes and drink your beer Stryker; Tomkins pound your chest and advertise how great you were in 2012 as the first FGA Heavyweight Champion. History repeats itself in Richmond, Virginia, for us. It’s business as usual. You can claim yourselves as legends; you can list off all of the meaningless titles from your past and proclaim your past success. Meanwhile Chris Tryon and Jason Marx continue to do what we do best: The Usual Suspects give FGA a real attitude adjustment and we eliminate more unworthy competition from this tournament. It’s just gotta be that way sometimes.
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Desperate times call for desperate measures.
It was the social media event of the summer, and I was going to miss it because Dom Harter couldn’t keep his filthy hands off of my property. Maybe he had planned it all this way since the aforementioned event involved his personal life crumbling in front of the entire Twitter universe. I didn’t know, and didn’t care. All I knew was that I had to get my hands on a new iPad, and I’d do anything to make it happen.
It’s not like I had many options at my disposal. The old man was being tighter than ever with the funds and Tiffany refused to strip for the cash this time. Something about maintaining more of a professional image as her preliminary hearing was coming up in the Justice Young matter. My FGA contract surely didn’t provide an avenue; I barely had enough money from that to last me until the next show.
I don’t get royalties from t-shirt sales like these other guys do. The company hasn’t seen fit to promote its most talented tag team for some reason. Meanwhile assholes like The Murder, A.J. Fairchild, and even Michael Tomkins have their own FGA branded shirts; it’s downright criminal.
There was only one way to make it happen.
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- A little over two weeks ago…
:Sometimes a face can be too easy to read, and right now the expression on Chris Tryon’s face oozes complete annoyance. Perhaps it’s because it’s been two weeks since he’s been able to participate in his newfound hobby? Perhaps it’s because the slightly used iPad that Tiffany Lawrence Michaels procured for him didn’t come with the Apple care plan? Perhaps it’s the incessant clicking of a pen, held by the frail thin gentlemen behind the desk he’s sitting in front of?:
Click…click…click…click…
:Yeah, that would be it. Each click seems to result with an irritating shudder from the young rookie. His tormentor dawns thick eyeglasses, a buzzcut, and a short-sleeve white dress shirt with a black tie. Only a complete douchebag wears a short-sleeve dress shirt with a tie; he looks eerily similar to Michael Douglas’s character in the movie, Falling Down. The man appears to be studying a clipboard in his left hand as he ceaselessly continues the clicking.:
Click…click…click…click…
:Somehow Tryon keeps his cool, which is amazing since normally he speaks before he thinks; just ask Dom Harter. Chris clears his throat and straightens the front of his black t-shirt, revealing what could only be a custom made slogan: #NoOneCaresTomkins – a trend from the Twitterverse created by the brilliant mind of Chandler Scott. The man finally looks up from his clipboard, eyeing Chris with an uneasy glance before returning to the clipboard.:
Man: So, exactly what makes you feel that you’re qualified to be a donor?
:Chris’s eyes begin dancing, looking for an answer, before a smirk emerges on his face.:
Tryon: Are you kidding? Look at me. I’m in peak physical condition, a damn handsome man, and my intelligence is far above average. Consider me to be the opposite of… Well, you.
:That’s right Chris, insult the man who decides if you get to enter one of those back rooms with the Perfect Ten magazines in the back. At this rate, his bright idea on how to replace his iPad is sure to end in disaster:
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
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I know what you’re thinking, and quite frankly I could care less. I’ll admit it was humiliating walking into that clinic and being interrogated by some pencil pusher to ensure that I was fit to be a donor. I’m almost as shocked as you are right now at having my pedigree questioned. How could any woman in her right mind NOT want to have my seed as the source for a genetically superior offspring? Even couples where the man wasn’t experiencing fertility issues should scramble at the chance, knowing that my DNA was available in the system, to produce a more talented child than they could ever dream of creating on their own.
In any event, it worked. Not only did I have enough money to buy a new iPad, I was even able to buy the Apple care plan for two years just in case Dom Harter tried to silence the Pulitzer Prize worthy Twitter writings of Chris Tryon again. It’s obvious that you’ve become obsessed with me, Dom. Why else would you make your presence known during our match with the Marios?
You’re beginning to see the writing on the wall just like everyone else in this company. The Usual Suspects are an unstoppable force who will not fall short of becoming the first ever Mid-Atlantic Tag Team Champions. It’s going to take more than elementary mind games with distractions to eliminate us from our destiny. One way or the other, we will achieve what’s rightfully ours; destroying the parasites who are trying to lay claim to titles they have no business in competing for.
I really hope you and your boy beat the U.K. Dragons next Saturday. It would be a shame if The Suspects won the titles against anybody else. As much as I despise you Harter, I hate the fact that we both are subjecting ourselves to lesser opponents that aren’t even proper members of this promotion. So a word of advice to you; forget about the Usual Suspects for one more show. I want you to be at your best when you prim your fauxhawk up with your greasy hair products, walk down that aisle, and do what needs to be done for this company. Save it from its own erroneous actions and stop all forms of “incremental degradation.”
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
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:Overcast cloud cover hides the sun on this dreary day in Clifton, New Jersey outside of M.A.Z.E. Laboratories. A triumphant Chris Tryon exits the building after receiving payment for making a deposit. He walks down the steps to a waiting car parked in front of a meter with an irritated Tiffany Lawrence Michaels standing by, wearing faded jeans, and a tight fitting Victoria’s Secret “Pink” t-shirt that seems to be the current rage among the superficial females these days.:
Tiffany: What took you so long? I’ve had to put in two dollars worth of quarters in this thing.
Tryon: Don’t blame me; blame the material that they have in those rooms. An upgrade, to say the least, is definitely needed. Anyway it worked.
:Chris pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and Tiffany’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.:
Tryon: Needless to say, there’s going to be quite a bit left over after I get my new iPad. Now let’s go, we’ve got to get this car back to that comic book guy before 6.
Tiffany: Whatever, he’s lucky I let him keep that tape in exchange for the use of the car. I still don’t get how that geek can afford a vehicle like this. Who knew there was so much money in comics?
:Before them sits a 2005 black Corvette that looks in almost mint condition.:
Tryon: There’s not, his dad is some big shot real estate guy. Don’t you watch Big Bang Theory?
:The couple enter the vehicle with Tryon taking the wheel. The engine starts with authority as we cut to the inside of the vehicle. Tryon quickly shifts and dangerously peels out onto the street. Tiffany is hanging onto the inside passenger door grip for dear life.:
Tiffany: CHRIS, SLOW DOWN!!!
Tryon: I told you, I promised him we’d have the car back to him by 6. It’s at least a 13 minute drive back to Bloomfield with the traffic on the Garden State Parkway.
Tiffany: YOU’RE GOING TO GET US KILLED!!!
:Tryon suddenly makes another shift as the speedometer quickly jumps to 50mph.:
Tryon: No way baby, I’m a fit, lit, clutch pounding pimp! Sit back and enjoy the ride.
:The vehicle makes a sudden swerve onto the toll way entrance ramp, resulting in a loud shriek from Ms. Michaels.:
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I’ve been called arrogant.
I’ve been called an asshole.
I’ve been called an entitled man-child who exploits people and refuses to take responsibility when the consequences arrive.
That one is my favorite. Thank you Alexia Brandt.
It’s been approximately two months since The Ususal Suspects graced this company and its fans with greatness. To be honest, those accusations and the actions of FGA management have me feeling unappreciated right now. Is this any way to treat the man who happens to be carrying the only legitimate tag team here?
The worst kept secret in this sport is that Frontier Grappling Arts is one of the hottest independent promotions in the nation. This company has spent the last two years filling a vacuum for true fans of this sport by showcasing the most talented young stars. This place has the potential to grow into something truly special and that’s why I agreed to sign on with my partner in May.
The Usual Suspects have initiated the process of FGA’s evolution to true progress and growing media attention. This is not arrogance talking, it’s simple fact. All successful national wrestling promotions have possessed tag team titles since the mid 70s; belts notably absent since this company’s inception. So we signed here, agreeing to legitimize the virtually non-existent tag team division. What thanks have Jason Marx and Chris Tryon received for this act of kindness?
The Motto…
KoolStorm…
Super Mario Wrestling Brothers…
We’ve been reduced to wasting our abilities by eliminating posers, trouncing lackeys, and wrestling a video game parody. There haven’t been any bigger opponents of FGA’s own “incremental degradation” than The Usual Suspects. We’ve discussed it for far too long now without any satisfying results from management. The time to protest is over; the time for action has begun.
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:The inside of the Suspect’s meager apartment hasn’t changed much since the last time we viewed it. Noticeably new is a small round oak dining table that garnishes the previously vacant space behind the black leather sectional. The sound of keys can be heard jiggling the lock free, followed by the door opening to the entrance of Chris and Tiffany. Tryon appears to be cradling the box containing his brand new iPad as if it were a newborn baby. Tiffany smacks him on the shoulder.:
Tiffany: That’s the LAST time I ever let you drive me anywhere!!!
Tryon: Quit your whining, I made great time…
:Chris pauses, noticing that the place seems eerily quiet.:
Tryon: Hey, where’s the old man?
Tiffany: How should I know? I don’t keep tabs on him.
:Tryon walks over to the door leading into Jason’s bedroom, opening before knocking as ususal.:
Tryon: He’s not here…
:Tiffany seems to spot something out of place on the dining table, walks over and grabs a scribbled on sheet of paper.:
Tiffany: “Hey kid, I had to make a trip out west to Seattle to see an old friend. I left you some spending money on your dresser. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, and don’t you dare spend that money on a damn iPad. I’ll be back in plenty of time for our match with the Marios. I left some DVDs of their matches on the player, you need to study them. Things are going to start getting tougher from this point forward. – Marx”
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Funny relationship I got with the old man. I know I completely disrespect him on Twitter, at home, on the road, in the locker room… Well, you get the picture. At the end of the day, all that is just good natured ribbing. Perhaps sometimes I take it too far --- Who am I kidding, sometimes he’s just too damn sensitive. Nevertheless when we step through those ropes, all of our differences seem to vanish and we become a fucking machine hell bent on victory to achieve one goal – the mid-Atlantic tag team titles.
Our next match has been built up as something different. The Suspects have actually been labeled as the underdogs by the so-called experts in what they call our first true test in FGA. That’s an interesting concept, considering the fact that one of our opponents hasn’t earned a clean win since I’ve been a member of this roster. Contrary to popular belief, we enter Richmond, Virginia to do more of the same; destroy two posers who stand in the way of our greatness, our titles, and our destiny.
The moment I say this will result in cries of arrogance and disrespect from everybody in that locker room. I’m assuming that even my tag team partner is going to chastise me for looking past Bad Attitude. Nothing could be further from the truth; I’m relishing the moment I get to step in that ring and finally silence my doubters. Circle your calendars for Saturday, August 3rd. The Usual Suspects make a statement when we face Mike Tomkins and Adam Stryker.
I, along with the rest of this locker room, have endured Tomkins’ delusional and hypocritical comments on social media for far too long. It’s becoming obvious that Ben Hanson dropped you on your head one too many times. You’re in the midst of an identity crisis, Tomkins. One minute you claim to be the man who built FGA into the company it is today, the next minute you claim that you’re the forsaken son who’s come home to burn it to the ground; interesting comments from the man that’s signed up to represent this company in the upcoming FGA – Frontier show.
You and Stryker are both busy these days aren’t you? While you’re signed up to represent FGA, he’s signed up to represent Frontier. You’re both wreaking havoc in that cesspool of a company, PWX, and you’re also on a quest to become the first ever triple crown winner in FGA by inserting yourself in the Pride title hunt. This is your weakness. Just like you both pointed out the increasing demands Heather Halliwell has undertaken between PDW, Exodus, and FGA, Bad Attitude has finally bitten off more than they can chew. The burden that you’ve placed on yourselves by entering this tournament along with every other piece of your “master plan” is only going to take its toll on you. Everybody has a breaking point and Bad Attitude will be running on fumes come Richmond.
The Usual Suspects have one sole purpose that hasn’t changed since we made our debut; becoming the first ever tag team champions in FGA. It’s this single minded focus that gives us the edge over Bad Attitude. We’re not signed up with other companies; we don’t have other titles to defend. We just continue to make good on our original promise despite our growing number of non-believers and haters.
So light your cigarettes and drink your beer Stryker; Tomkins pound your chest and advertise how great you were in 2012 as the first FGA Heavyweight Champion. History repeats itself in Richmond, Virginia, for us. It’s business as usual. You can claim yourselves as legends; you can list off all of the meaningless titles from your past and proclaim your past success. Meanwhile Chris Tryon and Jason Marx continue to do what we do best: The Usual Suspects give FGA a real attitude adjustment and we eliminate more unworthy competition from this tournament. It’s just gotta be that way sometimes.
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