Ramaeno as Ramaeno Ramaelli in The Cornell-Verse

[Ramaeno]

The greatest trick the Devil ever played was convincing the world he didn't exist...

 

January 1, 2008

 

 

Dear Diary,

 

 

It's a quarter passed midnight at the Ramada in downtown Tokyo. My name is Ramaeno Ramaelli and I am The Devil's Advocate

[Ramaeno]

I'm talking about late 2007 now. Since when, I don't know. I don't know how long it's been or exactly when this all began nor am I entirely sure what point I'm specifically referencing here. My downfall? My spiral into the embrace that is the temptation of despair? I'm not John Bunyan but when and where did my Pilgrim's Progress begin and how, pray tell, did it bring me miles and miles away from my home, from my sanity into the depths of the criminal underbelly of Tokyo but is it limited to just Tokyo? What I've seen, I can't repeat, I wouldn't dare write, that is, what I've seen since I got that mysterious phone call at the end of the Summer of 2007 that brought me on the plane that took me to Nihon International Airport two weeks ago. I don't have many answers, and I'm just as confused as you are but I can tell you, without any doubt, whose fault it is, however inadvertant it may be.

 

You see, I hate Jim Force but I love him as well. I'll take you back now to a time when boy bands and teeny boppers were as common as clicks on youtune internet television. A moment before the internet phenom and a heartbeat before the Year 2000 computer bug paranoia took the planet by storm. When corporate culture was still figuring it'self out and entertainment industry CEO's and executives alike were sighing in relief as the still misunderstood and forever uncontrollable grunge era had died. I'd graduated university several years before I walked through the palacial corridors of the SWF corporate headquarters. It was a dream for me, little did I know it would turn into a nightmare. I'd gone to university with one goal, to earn the proper credentials to get me into the wrestling industry. You see, I knew wrestling was a boys club with a secret craft but as the media grew the secrets became harder and harder to keep and it was inevitable for a responsible company to adjust to the times. The SWF decided to open its doors a little bit to what was corporately responsible and for better or worse began to cast aside it's old ways and don the coat of corporate culture. Equipped with an encyclopedia like knowledge of the history of the business, I knew I could bring the proper corporate ediquette while maintaining a wrestling mindset. You see, the one thing I had when I took my chair amongst the devious, backstabbing, political creative personnel at SWF creative meetings was a LOVE for this business. A love and respect for this industry that no B horror movie writer (at best!) could ever have or ever comprehend. I can't tell you how many arguements I'd been in with ex soap opera writers who sat amongst me in that damned room. I'll never forget arguing with men who'd never watched wrestling in their entire life as they damned me for my ideas for my vision. I'd fought for my ideas and they hated me for it. I figured I'd be out of there just as soon as I walked in, but that all changed in the late '90s because at one of these meetings, Richard Eisen who many call the devil himself, and I'd have agreed with them until now, until I felt the real devil's chilling breath down the back of my neck. Richard Eisen watched me for over two years, arguing and being silenced and of course he could never go against his entourage of ass-kissers, it'd have been acceptionally dangerous for a man in his position to take a loan creative voice's side against an army of men he was personally responsible for hiring. He pulled me aside after one of those random meetings and told me, "This is it, kid. I've seen you going at it in there long enough. Truth is, I like your ideas. I like alot of them, ****, I might like all of them but you don't play the game. You don't play politics. I've been waiting for you to miss one day. Take one sick day, to give me the excuse to fire you but you haven't and you've impressed me but everybody else in there wants your head. You've got one chance. I'll give you full clearance. One storyline. You pen the whole damn thing. If it works, you'll get more chances and maybe one day clear that whole damn room out. You fail, you're going down. You get it?" I made a deal with a demon, not the devil, that day.

 

So I went home and for a week I didn't sleep. Amphetamines became my best friend. I was so desperate to show up all my enemies in that "damn" room. I looked at the entire roster. Spent hours watching footage. I'd thought of every possible out come. There was no room for surprises. When I came in to work for that week the room sat in awe of me. I'd not spoken up once. Not challenged any thought, any idea. The entire room was shocked. I saw Eisen at the head of the table, smiling that twisted smile he's now grown so famous for from his appearances on television. When I handed him my script at the end of the week, in his private office he didn't say anything. Thus, the ULTIMATE FORCE was born. Jim "Ultimate" Force was born from the pages of my script. He experienced unparalled success. The room was shocked and Eisen took credit for it. Merchandise sales went through the roof. He'd become one of the hottest stars a sure bet for a world title run but the mistakes I didn't calculate occuring inevitably made my undoing. The man himself began to ruin everything. No showing events, his interviews, always passionate but equally illogical, became more illogical. After months of amazing success, after months of starring at this face-painted muslce man on our television sets, knowing I created the next Sam Strong, the next Rip Chord, the next Christian Faith or all of them into one, my own creation began to go mad. There wasn't enough merchandise that could sell to stop the slamming that occurred in that board room.

 

"He's becoming our biggest merchandise salesman but he's also going insane."

 

"We can't have a commitable lunatic as the face of our organization! It's suicide!"

 

And

 

"Look, if there is anyplace that has a place for characters, it's here. But this is a wrestling organization, and he CAN'T wrestle!"

 

But Eisen liked money more than he liked any of us and as long as the dollars kept coming, my job stayed safe but eventually the money couldn't drown out the sounds of my enemies who clearly heard all of my arguments for all of those years and all of those meetings because they began to use MY OWN WORDS. MY OWN ARGUEMENTS!! against me.

 

They won. And after that computer bug turned out to be nothing but an invisible ant at best. After all the teeny boppers became slightly older and those boys who'd earned all their affections were now memories, Jim Force and I were both out of a job. He knew his character was my creation, but something was wrong with that man and Jim Force the man lived no longer. He was The ULTIMATE FORCE, all the time. We were friends. He knew he was popular and would always have a job in this industry but the fan reaction had changed him. Seeing legions of people disposable unto his very words had warped the man and instead of riding that popularity out in the wrestling ring he took it to the internet and to the political ring. Well, as we all know now, he is back to what made him famous, wrestling for Sam Strong in the USPW. And me?

 

Well my story doesn't plunge into the depths of despair that quickly. You see, alot of people knew what I had to offer and knew I was responsible for the Jim Force phenom. I'd instantly got a job at Holyweird Grappling Company. J. K Stalkings Jr. signed my contract and checks personally. I'd become a top booker. No more politics, no more bull****. I'd had alot of success at HGC. I'd felt like some of the storylines I'd penned would earn me a place in the halls of wrestling history. I'd been sure that I'd have a career in the industry I loved, forever. But that all changed when Tommy Cornell took control. I wasn't the top dog at HGC. No, not at all but I was directly under the top dog and when Tommy took over, I was gone. And so were so many others. I have no gripes with Tommy. I learned the first day I stepped into the SWF Headquarters in New England that Pro Wrestling is and always will be a cut-throat business. It was his now and he wanted to have complete control, if I were Tommy I'd have done the same thing. You see, it's hard to go to war with a giant and if what was once HGC and is now TCW fails it falls on his shoulders. He is the owner. He is the star. It is all his responsibility and he wants to be sure if it doesn't work that he did everything he could. I respect him and I have alot of friends that still work there.

 

In the wrestling business you learn how to travel. To adapt. Living in New England but growing up in the Tri-State area it was easy for me to pack up and head out to the South West to work for HGC. I loved it out there. Different way of life, but when I got fired from the new TCW I had a wife. I had responsibilities. There are so many out of work wrestlers in the real estate and car sales business. I tried that out in Cali for awhile but the big paychecks at HGC created a lifestyle for my family that selling real estate, insurance and cars could never duplicate. I needed to get back in the business but knew not where to turn. My phone rang in the mid 2000's and it was John Campbell a man who I never got to work with in the SWF but whose reputation in the industry was as large as anyones.

 

For me, returning to the Tri-State area, where I'd grown up, was like a homecoming. For me, working at DAVE was one of the greatest and worst experiences at my life. You see, DAVE was a wrestling company first with the emphasis on wrestling not company. It was a living relic of what the industry was. It hadn't been swallowed by the American corporate machine. It was the greatest wrestling company to work for. Creativity blossomed there and everyone knew what we were up against. Not just the SWF monster but the TCW money machine as well. All of those boys wanted it and I wanted them to succeed more than I ever wanted anything to succeed. You know, when you love something so much, you can't see it's flaws, and DAVE was incredibly flawed. We all loved what we did and what we were doing too much to see that what we wanted to achieve was impossible. There was nothing anyone could do and my boyhood dream seemed to be rapidly coming to an end as the valiant ship that was Danger and Violence Extreme began to sink.

 

Out of a job and going through a divorce. It was the hardest time of my life. I begun working insurance again but I contemplated suicide more than I contemplated sales. It's a terribly existence to consider yourself a failure everytime you look in the mirror. I thought I'd had alot to be proud of. But noone cared. Wrestling can be brutal like that. Just look at some of the legends of the industry and how they struggle to eat, have a roof to sleep under. It's a terrible business in that way. I got an offer from a European wrestling company. If I thought DAVE was a homecoming story, being an Italian immigrant, Europe would have made my forebearers proud. I went to check out a company called UCR but the entire promotion was in shambles with no direction. They wanted me bad but as I boarded the plane to come back to the states after listening to their offer, I didn't have the heart for the business anymore.

 

This passed summer, living out of a beach house in the South Eastern united states and selling used cars at a dealership owned by an ex wrestler I will not name here, I was desperate. I called Jim Force. He'd begun getting decent paychecks some time ago and worked for the very viable USPW. Owned by Sam Strong and featuring some of the most popular wrestlers in the world, the USPW seemed like a perfect fit for me and I was sure that Jim would repay me the favor I paid him almost a decade ago when I turned him into a star. Well, that didn't happen. Jim changed phone numbers more often than a pimp in New York City. I have no idea who he has trouble with and what it's about but the man is always on the run from something or running into something absolutely ludacris. I can't understand how he shows up at cards half the time. I left him unreturned e-mail after e-mail, I began to feel as though my sanity was completely gone as though I'd begun to turn into the Ultimate Force character that I created. Then the phone rang...

 

 

For ten years, he's been watching you. For ten years he has thought of you as the most creative man to work behind the scenes. You know not of who I speak, but he knows you. He has seen you, he has seen everything. Check your email at 9'oclock tonight. There is a ticket for a plane. Board it. Your room, your expenses are all paid. When you get where you're going there will be 4,000 euros waiting for you. Do not disappoint him. No one disappoints HIM.

[Wallbanger]

He's Back!!!!!