#Wrestle Association R

[isak-dot-gov]

Hey, good luck with your exams. I hope they go well! Could you maybe do a Paige x Reader where R is in the WWE & they have been dating? Eventually, they hard launch & break the internet. Please & thanks.

Rumour Has It

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x WWE!Reader

Word Count: 1182

My Masterlist :)

................................................................................

Summer had become the perfect blend of adrenaline and quiet moments for you and Paige. On the surface, it was chaotic—travelling for WWE’s high-profile summer events while Paige juggled her basketball commitments and her own “world tour.” Yet in between all the noise, you both found pockets of time where the world shrank down to just the two of you. 

For months now, fans of both Paige Bueckers and WWE had been buzzing with speculation. It started subtly enough—someone caught a glimpse of Paige at a match in early June, sitting inconspicuously in the crowd with a baseball cap pulled low. A fan cam snapped her cheering during one of your matches, and the internet exploded with questions.

"Why is Paige Bueckers at a WWE event?"

"Is she a wrestling fan now?"

"Wait, she's at another match?"

The theories began to fly faster than any clothesline in the ring. Paige wasn’t a name typically associated with WWE fandom. Sure, basketball stars attended sporting events all the time, but this felt... different. Paige wasn’t just attending random events—she was there at specific matches, all involving you.

Some sharp-eyed fans picked up on the pattern by mid-July. If Paige was in the crowd, it meant one thing: you were scheduled to appear that night. Still, no one dared to fully connect the dots. You and Paige weren’t seen together outside of the arena, and you hadn’t been caught on camera in any compromising situations. Yet.

But the rumours persisted.

One night, as you waited for your cue backstage, scrolling through your phone, you saw a tweet that made you laugh out loud. It was a fan theory thread dissecting Paige’s presence at your matches:

@idkman-7:

“Okay, hear me out: Paige Bueckers has a crush on (Y/N). She ONLY shows up to matches when (Y/N) is on the card. She’s basically a WWE regular now. Tell me I’m wrong.”

You chuckled and showed your phone to your best friend and fellow wrestler, who immediately smirked.

"Looks like someone’s onto you," they teased, nudging your arm. "How much longer are you two going to keep this quiet?"

You shrugged with a grin. "Not much longer. We’ve got a plan."

The truth was, you and Paige had been dating for nearly two years. It started unexpectedly—an awkward introduction at a charity basketball game where you’d been invited as a special guest and Paige had been a star. She had no clue who you were at the time, and you had been starstruck by her talent on the court. A random conversation during the post-game dinner led to exchanged numbers, late-night texts, and eventually, a first date that neither of you wanted to end.

Your relationship was built on quiet moments—a shared love for competition, sarcastic banter over whose sport was tougher, and mutual support through the pressures of your very public careers. Despite being in two completely different fields, you both understood the strain of constant travel, the demand for perfection, and the weight of public expectations.

But now, the public was catching on. You’d kept it low-key for as long as you could, dodging questions, sneaking in and out of events without getting caught, and sharing private moments behind closed doors. Until this summer, when Paige decided to join you on your WWE tour. It had been too much fun to pass up, hopping from city to city together, sneaking in hotel room movie nights and attending each other’s matches and games.

Still, with all the rumours swirling, the time had come to stop hiding.

It was the night before your two-year anniversary, and Paige had just flown in from her latest tour stop. You’d finished your last WWE event of the summer tour and had the next few days off. Sitting together on the couch in your shared hotel room, Paige’s head rested on your shoulder as you scrolled through Twitter, watching the chaos unfold.

"Look at this one," you said, showing her a fan tweet that read:  

@nixxwwww:

"Yo, Paige Bueckers is at ALL of (Y/N)’s matches! Does she have a thing for wrestlers or what?"

Paige snickered. “If only they knew.”

“They will soon,” you replied, glancing at her. “We ready for this?”

Paige sat up and stretched, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I think it’s time. Two years… it’s kind of a big deal.”

You agreed, your hand finding hers. For two years, this relationship had been your secret safe haven from the madness of your public lives. But now, it felt right to share it with the world.

The next day, on the morning of your anniversary, you decided to pull the trigger. The two of you had agreed on the plan—simple but effective. You’d both post on Instagram at the same time, giving the world a glimpse into your relationship without the need for explanations.

Paige posted first: a candid photo of the two of you sitting on a beach from last summer’s vacation. Her head was resting on your shoulder, both of you smiling without a care in the world. The caption was sweet and understated:  

"2 years with my favourite person."

A few minutes later, you hit post on your own. Your photo was from just the night before—backstage after your latest match, with Paige jumping into your arms, laughing as you held her close. The caption read:  

"My person. 2 years strong."

It didn’t take long for the internet to implode.

Your phones were flooded with notifications within minutes. Twitter exploded with reactions, fans going wild over the reveal they never saw coming.  

@ch12334:

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW PAIGE HAD A CRUSH ON (Y/N)!! But wait… THEY’VE BEEN DATING FOR TWO YEARS?!?"

@shelbluvswbb:

"PAIGE AND (Y/N)?? No way. My entire timeline is screaming right now."

@lwfan21:

"Hold up. This is HUGE. A WWE star and a basketball phenom? Talk about power couple!"

Some fans were ecstatic, showering you both with love and support, while others couldn’t believe they hadn’t figured it out sooner. Paige and WWE memes flooded social media, along with hundreds of fan edits of your photos.

“Looks like we broke the internet,” you said with a grin, leaning over to kiss Paige’s temple as you scrolled through the reactions.

“We sure did,” Paige replied, looking equally amused. “Guess we’re officially out there now.”

And just like that, the secret was out. You and Paige didn’t need to hide anymore. You could attend her games openly, and she could sit front row at your matches without people speculating. Two years of love, laughter, and countless shared memories—and now, the world knows.

But as much as the world celebrated, nothing beat the moment when Paige laced her fingers through yours, her eyes soft and full of love. 

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss you softly, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t have to worry who was watching.

“I love you too,” you replied, smiling against her lips. 

And now, you could love her—freely and openly—with the entire world watching.

.....................................................................

Isak Speaks: Ok so I decided to borrow some of the people I followers' usernames because I couldn't come up with my own(hopefully that's ok lol)

[hungwy]

the Redditor who claimed The Chinese are dumb at geopolitics "because Mao killed off all the smart people so the only ones left are culturally and genetically stupid" (not an actual quote just a summary [yes he believes in intelligence-based eugenics]) is a senior associate at a law firm who loves wrestling, says "reeee", calls Japan incomparable to other nations in its greatness, and posts on r/wallstreetbets. Also seemingly a halo lore scholar

[ranticore]

just wanted to say i absolutely love ur characters. each and every one of them is such a joy to follow. genuinely cant say how many times i've reread ur books at this point. i love them and i would hate being around any of them (special mention to my boy erica for being both the coolest and lamest person alive and jean for. being jean)

thank you so much for sending this 🧡and also for so completely understanding eri's character

here is a snippet (might be used, might not) from one of the openings of the third book i've written:

��What is it that we call you these days, anyhow?” Erica went on, falling into step beside him. His fingernails were black, as if he’d been scratching coals. “And why am I needed?” “We found explosives at the Spurs barracks,” Félix said. Any remnant of resentment or anger that might have showed on Erica’s narrow, shrewd features was wiped away in an instant. He practically bounced on ahead, leaving Félix to wrestle with the mule who pulled one of the emptier supply carts. “Wait just a moment!” Félix called, finally getting the animal to pull into a trot. Erica mounted one of the steps at the back of the cart as it passed by. “What kind of explosives?” “The kind that explodes, how am I to know? You’re the expert.” Félix settled himself into the driving position, finally, wincing as the movement of the cart rattled up through his knee. “It was wrote on the box, 'N I T R O-'” “Nitroglycerin?” Erica looked elated at that. “Ah, I know you were sent for Jean but you should have asked for me first, Ortega. You’re less wrong than usual; of the two of us, he may be the physicist, but I am the chemist.” “I don’t give a fuck what it is,” Félix said, stubbornly, “and I don’t care to know. We only need to transport it.”

“Naturally. Do we know why it is there?” Erica was speaking directly over Félix’s shoulder, suddenly, his tangled black mane brushing against Félix’s perfectly clean chestnut brown hair. It was a reasonable question and one at which Félix could only guess. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said, rather than admit ignorance. “They’re storing it all away from the townsfolk so that they don’t set it off by mistake.” “Evidently,” said Erica, “but why have it at all? This is not a mining town.” “It ain’t an army town, either,” Félix said, “but they managed to drum up a firing squad for those rangers.” Erica’s black eyes turned to the distant grey-brown line made by the sea on the western horizon. The sea had always struck Félix as something very ugly, as much as he would have liked to have believed in the romanticised vision of foam and waves in many of the books he’d read. His first association with it had always been the filthy armpit of Amhan bay, mud flats that seethed with salt flies and threatened to trap him as he dug for whelks and razor clams. He recalled the excited voice of Cypress exclaiming over the northern sea past Aberharain, how beautiful it was, how vast. Félix had been able to forget the truth and believe it then. He’d made quite a habit of forgetting the truth, where Cypress was concerned. Now he followed Erica’s gaze and glared at the ugly brown smear, and wrinkled his nose against the distant reek of rotten seaweed and mud. “I’ve heard of a fishing method,” Erica said, “whereupon a fisherman lights a blasting cap and drops it overboard.” Félix snorted. “Where’d you hear that? Jean? What he knows of the real world couldn’t fill a thimble. That goes for you, as well. I could tell you any aul bullshit and you’d believe it.” “I would try,” Erica said, a tiny, ironic little smile hovering about his lips. “Indulging in fiction could only bring me relief.” The shape of the fortress filled the end of the road again with its attendant smell of burning death, and opportunities for light-hearted conversation died with it. The open graves lining the bottom of the wall were still being fed with soil and bodies. Some of the rangers had tied cloths over their mouths, but most had just got on with the work, up to their elbows in mud. “The place was burned,” Erica remarked, as Félix steered the cart as close to the store-room entrance as he could go. “And the explosives remain miraculously intact. Are you certain you can read?" “They were put there after the fire ended, genius,” Félix said. He set himself back down on the ground, with as much grace as could be managed, and still felt it when his bad knee took his weight. The stray dogs had grown less cautious about the graves, and one now lay motionless with an arrow in its chest put there by the ranger on guard. Félix stepped gingerly over it.

[blowflyfag]

the Wrestler: Volume 25, 2009

R E M E M B E R  H I M ?

Long before there was “Captain Charisma” or the “Instant Classic,” Christian Cage campaigned in the East Coast Wrestling Association as a member of the THUG Life faction with Sexton Hardcastle, who is today known as Edge. Aside from a haircut and a few wrinkles on his brow, Cage has changed very little over the years. He was competing for championships on the U.S. and Canadian independent circuits then just as he’s fighting for the TNA World title now. 

[piece-of-hweat]

Little Nightmares Headcanons!!

(May change over time n stuff)

listed from youngest to eldest

RUNAWAY 9y/o

No clue, he/him

Really good at swimming (main reason why I draw him as a fish-person)

Loud, confident idiot (stares at Tommy-Innit)

Hates broccoli.

Lactose intolerant

Hates being wrong/failing

Very much a "act-before-think person"

Break dances epically

Competitive. Very competitive. (especially with Six)

Hates Six's guts

Has a collection of ships in bottles

Either Runaway or Mono are trans... I just want like... supportive brother arc please--

Plays with sticks

Knows one word in French. And it's piscine. He was the one who told Mono about the piscine joke.

Athletic

SIX - 9y/o

Aro/ace, she/it

loves ducks

Will bite (you and your belongings)

Won't scratch (she bites her nails)

Knows how to swim on the surface

Pupils are slightly slitted

Sharp canines

Growls and hisses when she’s really mad, or extremely not in the mood for anything

Had a duck and mouse plush at some point

Will tear Runaway into pieces if she could

There was a head-canon idea where Six has some form of DID, OSDD, UDD, etc. I don't really use this headcanon a lot because I myself don't have DID, so :/

Dark humor

NOONE - 10y/o

She/her

Animal lover <3

Clutches/fiddles with the ends of her clothing when nervous

Looks confused/concerned and scared 24/7

Likes drawing (probably has some animal doodles in her school books)

Listens to Mono's late night singing.

Allergic to nuts (once, at school, a group of students with pbj sandwiches "offered" Noone the sandwiches despite her declining. She was sent to the ER shortly after and was excused from school for the rest of the day and the day afterwards.)

Probably will get along with Six

Ticklish

Reads a lot

Laughs at Six's jokes.

Around the same height as Mono (taller than Raincoat)

Smartest (academically) in the group

LOW - 10-11 y/o

Bird nerd

Always liked reading comic books (especially the super-hero ones)

Percussion my beloved <3

Listens to your problems and gives you decent advice

Took up archery in school

Makes friendship bracelets

*insert epic secret handshake*

Ticklish

Probably makes music with Mono and Raincoat

Apple Juice lover

Plays with sticks

Very strategic

Probably plays chess or smth

Gamer /pos

Athletic

ALONE - 10-11 y/o

She/he

Listens to your problems and gives you… advice. Not good, not bad. Just advice.

Engineering <3 (probably would be really into those lego-machines)

Hits harder than a truck. Be careful, you might've shatter a bone.

Probably was a batter in baseball

Probably will win in a arm-wrestle against Mono.

Hits you lightly when laughing

Allergic to nuts

Apple juice lover

Doesn't talk much

G R E E N

Knows how to handle and discharge a gun properly. Do not ask her how or why she knows this. He simply does.

Person with the most amount of obscure knowledge (more people drown in freshwater than they do in saltwater. fear that creek in the forest behind your house. fear it. It will take your life one day)

Fascinated by wires and Mono's powers

Probably needs glasses

Reads a lot

MONO - 10-11y/o

Bi, He/him

Is British

Plays the violin (but it’s more like a guitar bc it’s big for him and he lost the bow)

Despite being taller than average, he walks around on his tippy toes

Barely knows how to swim (just fails around and barely stay afloat)

Dino-arms

Knows very limited amounts of Japanese and German (knows a couple of words in French, but only really remembers bonjour and piscine)

Punches hit like a truck, but it hurts Mono's hand a lot

Asthma

Very ticklish

stands awkwardly in the corner

Probably makes music with Raincoat and Low

Plays with sticks (uses them to direct magic)

Broken humor

Has negative associations with trains (doesn't like them)

RAINCOAT - 11-12 y/o

No Clue, She/her

Is Sisi

LOVES horses

Wanted to be an actress because MAKE UP, COSTUMES!! ACTING!! SINGING!! AAAAA!!

Good at cooking and baking (stares at my Bakes-Cookies-for-Otto headcanon)

Has some experience with piano and choir, but nothing else really

Bestest big sister ever

Will totally paint your nails while you ramble about something

Really likes playing with hair (another career dream she had was a hair stylist)

Will tease you (/lh)

Really pretty voice <3

Typically the one breaking conflict up

Probably makes music with Mono and Low

Reads bedtime stories to others

Around the same height as Mono (shorter than Noone)

Also, secret funky art post on youtube

[baberoe-archive]

hiiiii everyone im going to make you look at art <3 okay <3

first up we got two photos from august sander's people of the twentieth century, a decades long project he never finished aimed at identifying and organizing the "types" of people in early twentieth century germany. in photos for this project he usually identified people along socio-economic and geographic lines. on the left we have officer, world war i, cologne (1914) and on the right we have boxers, cologne (1928). museum had a bunch of sander on display and they paired it with the shortcut to the systematic life: superficial life (2002) by tsui kuang-yu, which is outside the scope of this post but super interesting so i encourage everyone to look it up lol

up next: the junkers officer (1934) by george grosz, another artist associated with neue sachlichkeit/new objectivity. im not well versed in german art but recently i have been so intrigued by leftist art of the weimar republic and it felt simply serendipitous. unfortunately by the time i saw this the museum was closing in 15 minutes so i had to rush out </3 SAD

this is air war (1944) by ralston crawford. first time i heard of this artist! during wwii he served as chief of the visual presentation unit of the weather division of the army air corps in washington dc and southeast asia.

negro soldier (1945) by robert smullyan sloan. sloan was drafted in 43 and illustrated army educational materials and posters for war bonds. the wall label says the title was given by the artist, which makes me think sloan didn't personally know this guy, which makes me very curious about the circumstances of its production. no name is given to the sitter, but he served in the european-african-middle eastern campaign in the army and was awarded a good conduct medal. sloan has a drawing at the met (station hospital [1943-44] ), but unfortunately i can't find much else about him online that might help contextualize this painting.

i think it pairs really well with this horace pippin from 1943 called mr. prejudice. pippin served in wwi with the harlem hellfighters, and the soldier at center might be a self portrait. he has a pretty good amount of paintings about the war actually -- i normally associate him with landscapes for some reason, though i think thats just because the pippin at my local art museum is a landscape lmao. his illustrated war journals are digitized at the archives of american art if you want to check it out!

up next are some pieces of interest that i want to share but about which i otherwise have little to say

L: untitled (military maneuvers at an abandoned mine) (1940-42) by harry gottlieb

R: italy goes to war (1941) by arthur dove

L: christ before pilate (1949) by david aronson. wall text wants us to note the soldier's helmet is german

R: the funeral (1949) by francisco dosamantes

ending with this delightful 1914 the wrestlers by henri gaudier-brzeska, whom the label quotes as saying, "i went to see the wrestlers -- God! i have seldom seen anything so lovely... they fought with amazing vivacity and spirit, turning in the air, falling back on their heads, and in a flash were up again on the other side, utterly incomprehensible." something about wrestling/boxing that make men gay as fuck. beautiful

[problematic-faves-appreciation]

“I get uncomfy with fictional Nazi tattoos” - a Jewish queer. Your input was not on their post necessary.

TW: Nazi mention

[Context]

I can't let you get away with what you're trying to do: Villain fans getting a tattoo of, say, the Imperial crest (Star Wars), Voldemort's Dark Mark (Harry Potter), or the Emperor's Coven sigil (The Owl House), symbols they associate with their fictional villain faves, is not comparable to a bigot having a swastika and SS lightning bolts on their skin.

When I see people bearing the Imperial crest (tattoo or blog-wise; e.g., it's their icon), my mind goes to Star Wars fans viewing the Empire as "Team Bad Guy", and liking it because their faves — Darth Vader, Thrawn, Eli Vanto, Crosshair, Orson Krennic, Agent Kallus, Rae Sloane, etc. �� are/were on said "team." Like professional wrestling lovers who are heel fans. Furthermore, they're not any different from Pokemon fans who get Team Rocket "R" tattoos. What, do you think they "probably" endorse real life animal cruelty? Give me a break.

Maybe next time, they should not tag their post like this nor indirectly call these characters' fans "Nazi sympathizers" for woobifying them or whatever? Is that too much to ask?

*Sigh*

[the-red-company-if]

What would an ideal day off look like for each character if it's not too much? 😅

Liran: An ideal day off for Liran would undoubtedly be one spent around those he cherishes. It might begin with a leisurely breakfast with Seraphina. Later, he enjoys a calm, peaceful day, often reading or engaging in light, playful training with fellow Red Company members. As the evening rolls in, a hearty meal with the whole Company, and later stargazing alone or with MC, would be the perfect way to end the day.

Makena: For Makena, an ideal day off would be a balanced blend of solitary and social activities. The day would start with her tending to her beloved garden, hands covered in soil as she takes care of her plants. In the evening, she heads to the local tavern ‚Shivering Shandy‘, enjoying the spirited music and the infectious energy. Dancing to the rhythm, singing her heart out, being one with the crowd — this is her perfect escape.

R: R would start the day with an intense workout or a long ride on their horse. Not many people like to associate with R, so R would probably spend the day pursuing individual activities, two of their favourite activities is either to join underground fighting or to undertake a challenging hunt and they will only return when they captured their prey, either way, losing is not an option. The evening might see them at a quiet corner of a tavern, enjoying a meal and a drink on their own.

Ghost: Ghost's ideal day off is spent chasing pleasure in all its forms. A late morning start with an extravagant breakfast will start the day. Then they spend the afternoon lounging in a bathhouse, indulging in relaxing massages, and visiting stalls for some shopping. In the evening, they'd go to a tavern to dance, and flirt. When they have enough, they'd go home with someone from the tavern or go to a pleasure house, seeking their favourite kind of pleasure~

Joryn: Joryn's ideal day off involves some quality time with friends, their crew or a current lover. A day spent on the deck of a ship or in their favourite tavern ‚The Tipsy Mermaid‘, a bottle of good rum, good company, card games (only with bettings involved of course) would be their idea of perfect relaxation. Joryn is a social creature and enjoys the company of others in the streets and in the sheets.*hehehe*

Rothar: Rothar's ideal day off is still a structured one. They spend time maintaining their equipment, studying new combat techniques, or meticulously planning for future endeavors. However, they would also set aside some precious time for their child, cherishing those moments the most out of their day. Even on their days off, Rothar finds satisfaction in a job well done and in the simplicity of familial bonds.

Cassius: An ideal day off for Cassius involves spending time with MC, taking a break from his leadership responsibilities to just be a father. Whatever MC wants do to, he’s down for it.

Callista: Callista hates days off, ‚relaxing’ isn’t really in her vocabulary, as she often doesn’t know what to do with herself when she isn’t needed. She will often go patrolling anyway, do a small assignment or just sharpen her weapons. On rare occasions she will join Amahle on her outings.

Varian: Varian would likely use his day off to catch up on sleep often outside, in a quiet, shady spot under a tree. Do not disturb him.

Amahle: Amahle's ideal day off involves taking a break from the kitchen to enjoy some of her favorite culinary delights, prepared by someone else for a change!

Seraphina: Seraphina's ideal day off involves a relaxing day with Liran or alone spent in the local marketplace, engaging in trading, picking up unique trinkets, and enjoying the vibrant atmosphere. She appreciates the variety of goods and stories each vendor has to offer.

Olaf: On his day off Olaf partakes in friendly wrestling matches or arm wrestling bouts. His day wouldn't be complete without a hearty meal shared with friends, with plenty of stories and laughter.

Ayo: On a day off, Ayo loves going on a fishing trip. The patience and tranquility required for fishing gives them time to reflect and relax. Plus, a successful catch means a hearty meal!

Hadrian: For Hadrian, an ideal day off involves an early morning of organization and planning, followed by a relaxing afternoon with a good book and a soothing bath.

Lola: Lola's perfect day off involves visiting nearby towns, chatting with locals, and perhaps enjoying a lively festival or market.

Roshan: An ideal day off for them would be spent enjoying a calm and peaceful day wandering around. Whether it be feeding the strays, watching the local children play, or simply enjoying the tranquillity of nature around them, it's these simple moments of peace that bring Roshan genuine happiness.

[ranseur]

just fyi in case you weren't aware - brandon sanderson has talked about still being a practicing member of the mormon church despite the homophobia/human rights stuff the church supports

hi anon i wasn't aware of this! i'm surprised actually because his portrayals of queer characters in his books didn't give me the impression he was homophobic or against human rights, himself.

looking into it more- i see that he addressed his relationship w the LDS church in a recent AMA on reddit. to summarize, it seems like he's saying that he is pro-lgbtq+, that while he is still learning how to be better, he stays with LDS with the hopes that the community's stance on lgbtq+ people will change. and how he contributes to that shift is that many members of LDS read his books (i guess because he is a member) and through his books they see his nuanced portrayals of lgbtq+ characters. (https://www.reddit.com/r/books/comments/vtua7m/comment/ifa50ab/) that said, it does make me uncomfortable to learn his tithes potentially go towards harmful things that I am against. though it seems that based on his comments the homophobia is something he genuinely wrestles with, and openly denounces. I think if someone chooses not to read his books due to his faith, that's a very fair choice. on the other hand I respect Sanderson for admitting that his faith and political beliefs don't always align and for learning the progressive beliefs that he currently holds. i'm atheist and ex-christian; so i can sympathize with people who have complex relationships with their spiritual leaders and their personal faith. (personally I chose to leave and never look back) granted i haven't had a lot of time to think about this; but i'm wondering, and hoping this is fair to ask: if Sanderson's personal beliefs don't align with what other mormons believe, would it be fair to hold their beliefs against him by association? and if it is fair, then would I have to start holding every religious person accountable for any uncouth things that their religious text says or their leaders are responsible for? or could a person denounce those things, and be left to practice their faith in their own way? this is not an easy conversation to have- so its very fair if you won't agree with me but i hope i didn't come across as unfair. i think Sanderson isn't malicious, unlike Rowling who sucks, and i don't think he specifically supports or ignores the homophobia and anti-human rights that the church supports. also, sorry if this was long- im not good at being succinct.

[colonelcrusto]

Ring of Horror: ECW Zombie

He rose from the dead. Consumed flesh. Preached to the masses. No, he's not Jesus. He's Timothy R. Calkins Jr, aka Tim Arson, aka The ECW Zombie, a gimmick now immortalized in the Wrestling Bollocks Hall of Fame. Though Calkins didn't begin his career undead. He got his start in 2001, trained by total legend Johnny Rodz. Under the ring name Tim Arson, he made his in-ring debut on a USA Pro Wrestling show against—some dude called Stormin' Norman, who may or may not exist.

For the next several years, Arson predominantly stayed with USA Pro Wrestling, occasionally branching out to work other East Coast Indies. Then, in 2005, Arson would travel to America's Step-sibling, Puerto Rico, to compete in the World Wrestling Council's Bruiser Brody Memorial Cup Tour. And that's a touchy subject right there. Not Arson taking part in the Brody Cup. But the fact that the cup existed at all. Bruiser Brody was an icon. A legit scary wild man who you believed could and would go into business for himself whenever the mood so happened to strike. He was a massive draw in the Terrorty days, particularly in Puerto Rico, where he worked for WWC. Which is where he was murdered. Stabbed to death in the showers by living scumbag José González (Invader 01). A crime González was never charged with, a crime many believe involved, on some level, other living scumbags, WWC owners Carlos Colón Sr. and Victor Jovica. The idea of holding a Memorial tour for a man you more than likely had killed is disgraceful, disgusting, and downright despicable.

Though it shouldn't be held against Tim Arson for competing in it. He wouldn't win the cup. But he'd stick around the Free Associated State of Puerto Rico for a while. Having a considerable run throughout the first half of 2006. Along with Rico Suave (Not the song), Arson won the WWC Tag Team Titles from TNA Originals, America's Most Wanted (Wildcat Chris Harris and The Tennessee Cowboy James Storm). June 12th, nine days after winning the WWC tag belts, Tim Arson went head-to-head with Matt Striker on WWE Heat. He lost. But Tim Arson wasn't about to let a little old loss keep him down. Instead, he was going to die and return from the grave the very next night.

Tuesday the 13th, the world premiere episode of the all-new WWECW on Sic-Fi. Because when you think wrestling, you think the Sci-Fi channel. It's been said the Network wanted content that would appeal to their audience—Meaning horror/sci-fi gimmicks and angles—Asking for names like The Undertaker and Kane. Of course, Vince McMahon wasn't going to give away big money names to a third-rate brand airing on the same station that once aired Stan Lee's Who Wants to Be a Superhero? That is unless those names were Kurt Angle and Big Show. So, with no Undertaker, no Kane, no Boogeyman (not yet, anyway,) the WWE needed to find some other genre-inspired grapplers if they wanted to appease their new Sci-fi overlords.

Reports from the time claimed WWE's initial plans were to feature The Sandman (the wrestler, not the Neil Gaiman comic book character. That would've been really freaking weird. Probably not any "weirder than Robocop helping out Sting at WCW's Capital Combat. Though in 2006, Gaiman's creation didn't have the notoriety it does now since the Netflix series. But of course, ECW Wrestler Raven did wear a Neil Gaiman Sandman shirt back in the original ECW, so there's that.) in a segment with a little green man (Not Hornswoggle), a Martian, presumably from Mars. The Sandman would've caned the ever-loving fluff out of the visitor before drinking beer…? Probably. That was pretty much The Sandman's shtick in WWECW. Entrance. Beat up some cartoon with a cane. Drink beer. This Martian whooping never occurred. Allegedly Sci-Fic channel didn't like the prospect of an Alien (which they saw as their bread and butter) getting its extraterrestrial ass kicked on one of their shows. So the Martian was out. And the Tim Arson was in.

Either Paul Heyman or Tommy Dreamer pitched the idea of The Zombie. They might not been able to use extraterrestrial visitors, but they still had to use genre characters and gimmicks. No one was opposed to a zombie having its dead ass kicked, so The Zombie was a go. Arson was backstage that night for this very reason. Not to be The Zombie, but to be there if needed. He was an extra. Sometimes, they get to be security and get beat up by the Real wrestlers. And sometimes, they get to be fans and get beat up by the Real wrestlers. And sometimes… Mostly, they're there in case the Real wrestlers need to beat up some non-wrestler types. They may work a dark match or get jobbed out on TV, but mostly, they're there to get beat up. And when The Sandman needed someone to beat up, someone suggested Tim Arson.

Arson was put into tattered and torn clothes, his pockets were stuffed with dirt, and his face was caked in cheap makeup. Tim Arson, one-half of the (at the time) reigning WWC Tag Team champions, was no more. Now, there was only The Zombie. Lumbering to the ring before a confused and embarrassed crowd, The Zombie not only got into the ring. He got on the mic. The Zombie got on the mic and cut a zombie promo. He groaned, and he moaned into the mic, never speaking a single word. The crowd was as dead as The Zombie was meant to be. They could not care less about what they were seeing. All it was was confirmation that ECW was never coming back. They had checked out. Even Not Metallica's Enter Sandman hitting and the beer-swigging, cane-swinging Sandman making his way through them could get the crowd back.

Tim Arson took his less-than-thirty-second beating like a champ. Then, it was back to Puerto Rico to defend his tag titles four days later. A successful defense. Before the year was out, Arson and tag partner Rico Suave would drop the belts to Chris Joela and Huracan Castillo. Win them back from Joela and Huracan. Then, lose them again to, you guessed it, Chris Joel and Huracan Castillo. The remainder of Arson's time in Puerto Rico would be as a singles competitor. He'd continue to work in Puerto Rico, doing shows for IWA Puerto Rico, before the call of the American Independent Wrestling scene grew too loud to ignore. But they weren't calling for Tim Arson. They were calling The Zombie.

Working both gimmicks, Arson would take bookings as himself and The Zombie for a few years until giving up on himself. Not in that he stopped believing in himself and got all sad and mopey. He just stopped taking bookings as Tim Arson and started working as The Zombie full-time. Until 2014, The Zombie was a regular at shows promoted by Victory Pro Wrestling" and National Wrestling Superstars. Sadly, Timothy Calkins died in January 2015, putting an abrupt end to his career and life at just 38. Tim Arson was a solid worker and, in another era, would have had a place on the undercard in any territory. As The Zombie, he was a joke, but not all jokes are bad. He took this literal dead-on-arrival gimmick and gave it life—Carving out a nice little niche for himself in the already very niche world of wrestling. And if The Zombie were with us today, Tony Khan would've snatched him right up. Try and deny you wouldn't hand over hard-earned cash to see the All Elite Zombie. It'd be a helluva lot better than anything else AEW's done.

[zooterchet]

The Failures of the Pashas (The Three Swords)

Joe Chill: Joseph Chilton, was a successful Macedonian mercenary, for generations, during the Punic Wars; the wars against Carthage, over the control of the white bloodline, held as sport and rape by "blacks", those of Sub-Saharan blood. A "Chinee", a Chinese prostitute incapable of Islam, a true Sunni, held bed to Joseph Chilton, and birthed Joseph Chill, a "junior"; the opposite of his father, a Rosecrucian, the order of Centurions. Mithras, the seizure of women as prostitutes, for a night, a guaranteed orgasm, and a child and lands and pastures, to make them women off of the street, having lost their fathers through war. An inclusion into Rome. Jesus, tucked in his right thumb, called an "imami", the slur for a homosexual, and broke rules, within law non-legalized, the code of the Gauls. You called him "Jesus"; prizefights, police badges, and wine bets, the origin of the athletics leagues, breeding the constable. The origin of the military tribunal, to kill him.

Adolf Hitler: Adolf Hitler, was the son of a military engineer, having outed a Catholic Cardinal for pederasty, the conversion of one of the Hitlers to Rabbinical order; however, the Rabbinical having Romalian blood, an "Azaz", angels, having jumped and bounded, in a living agony, despite having all the attributes of the Stasi, the Huns and Uighurs and Boers and Amish and Americans and Germans, the sacred points against Napoleon Bonaparte. A "Sheriff", the term for a political deacon, hired by any international actor, a politician, under Realpolitik's rules, out of embassy, those of Bismarck. Fire marshal, the mark of the Swastika, on the left pectoral or breast, breast if a woman, the father of Adolf having slain one, his son gay, under Calvinist code, not replied in type print of law, but in fact of transvestite observation. A homosexual dominatrix. Adolf, tucked his in his elbow at court's oath, called a "Jewish doctor", under code of testimony, and created a movement of beer swillers, killing Ernst Rohm, the "Boelyn", an innocent panda fighter, the creator of all of German culture and ales. You called him "Fuhrer"; creator of film arts, cinema, and psychiatric film, the creation of the movie part to determine medicine, a cop's drama. The origin of the castration clinic, having been stolen of semen by prostitute.

Ted Bundy: Theodore Charlebois, was removed from the Bombardiers, Philip J. Morris, and born through the McMahons, the World Wrestling Federation, the sales of cigarettes and Atavan, for pilots and from cats, a High House of Enver Pasha; that of the Harpoon brewing fortune, microbrews and state universities, all of the State Police, the Reserve Officers Training Corps, and the COBRA cop and teacher funds and court date appraisals, at his fingertips. He was CIA from birth, a child soldier, as marked on his DMV license, but was a whaling expert; spotting his market declined, he wrote nautical penmanship as "Buddy", the blood of Booth, the actor's stage wright, hunted by Israeli intelligence services, "Meir", since birth, "Fillmore Lodge"; the Rotary Association associated with strip malls, malls, and prison labor, a proper cop among the households of United States Presidencies, the intelligence adjuncts of the United States. The criminal guilds, this one being CRASH. He supborned a book on Spider-Man, early in the publication's run, teaching writers how to write backwards, a past news edifice, instead of forwards, and intended pattern of treaty, and therefore, to create a predictable pattern, a procedure drama. This was a pedophile, by judgement of his family, the Charleboises, and he was expelled, hunted by MI-6 assassin Alice O'Neill, Army intelligence Jeffrey Dahmer, Catholic friar Steven Charlebois, and Los Angeles police detective Richard Ramirez. Ted Bundy mastered print, and with it, the Grand Ol' Party turned to pederasty, with international scandal breaking out at dozens of murderers running through prostitutes circuits at the writer's duels, luring them into his realm, the written pen. In the end, he was seized, having killed a child for NAMBLA, and was put to death, by his conjugal liaison, a beautiful temptress in his mind, however the sex unsatisfying. It was his first, and last sex, having refused to see a hooker. His mark was the "Spider", a Hopkins, the middle and ring fingers tucked in, but he wasn't a Ludlow; he was a Charlebois, the name meaning "Cain"; the first murderer, the Inquistor's Oath.

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: March 2024

THE LOCKUP

BY BRIAN R. SOLOMON

WHEN YOU’VE BEEN following this great sport as long as I have, you start to get a real sense for when something just works … when someone has something special, and is destined to make it big. Sometimes, it might take a very long time. And it might even seem like it’s never going to happen. But for some, it just takes longer, and, if they have the right combination of determination, skill, and luck, it happens.

LA Knight is one of those people. I’ve known it for years, but it’s nice to see the rest of the business finally catch up.

The year 2023 was a watershed moment in the 20-year career of WWE’s newest phenomenon. This marked the time when Knight finally broke through and did something that is so refreshing to see, but is so rarely allowed to happen in today’s industry: He got over organically. The fans made him into a superstar; not the office. He’s not a corporate product.

Quite the opposite! LA Knight is someone the office didn’t necessarily see all that much in, but the people felt otherwise. He won them over, and now it’s paying dividends, as WWE has a new main-event fan favorite on its hands. 

Yes, I’ve heard all the knocks. As this magazine goes to press, LA Knight just turned 41 years old. Guess what? That’s the same age as Asuka, Finn Balor, and Damien Priest. Cody Rhodes, who’s arguably made himself into WWE’s hottest fan favorite main-eventer in the past couple of years, is just three years younger than LA Knight. So are Sami Zayn, Charlotte Flair, and none other than Roman Reigns himself. Sure, Knight has a finite number of years ahead of him as a major, viable wrestling superstar. But you can rest assured he’s primed to make the most of those years. The idea that he’s somehow “too old” for the position he’s in is ludicrous.

[While some critics deride LA Knight for his similarities to Steve Austin and Dwayne Johnson, Brian R. Solomon suggests the rising superstar doesn’t get enough credit for making those influences his own.

PHOTO BY JERRY VILAGRANA]

It’s funny how one of Knight’s greatest strengths–his ability to tap into the best aspects of what made the stars of the Attitude Era get over–has also been called out by some as a negative. From when I first came to be acquainted with his work years ago, I enjoyed how he seemed to be a hybrid of the best elements of “Stone Cold” Steve Austin and The Rock. If that makes him derivative, then he’s no more derivative than Ric Flair emulating Buddy Rogers, Hulk Hogan emulating “Superstar” Billy Graham, or Dusty Rhodes taking from Thunderbolt Patterson.

In other words, nothing exists in a bubble. The greats of today build themselves on the templates created by the stars of the past. That’s nothing new. And in 2023, a wrestler with the swagger and charisma of the Attitude Era actually stands out from the pack.

Most importantly of all, LA Knight believes himself to be a star, and that belief has spread to the people. He’s willed it for himself, because he knows he’s earned it. That’s what happens when you’ve been scratching and scraping for 20 years to achieve something that means the world to you.

[Eli Drake poses for a photo backstage at a taping of David Marquez’ UWN Primetime Live in September 2020. By that time, WWE brass certainly already had their eyes on the man who would go on to main event against Roman Reigns.

PHOTO BY JUSTIN COTTERELL/UNITED WRESTLING NETWORK]

Since the days of WWE’s Ruthless Aggression–back when TNA and Ring of Honor were in their respective infancies–the man known to his parents as Shaun Ricker has been making his way in the business, and he’s been learning every step of the way. He got his start in the 200s at Ohio’s Heartland Wrestling Association under the watchful eye of legendary trainer Les Thatcher. At the time, HWA served as a developmental system for WWE. Ricker actually made his WWE debut on an episode of Heat in 2006, teaming with another young unknown, Jon Moxley, in a handicap match against The Big Show.

In what would be the start of a pattern, he wasn’t quite able to break through. And when WWE ended its relationship with HWA in 2009, Ricker moved on, hitting the West Coast and becoming a standout of the California independent scene. 

Part of that campaign meant becoming a regular at David Marquez’ Championship Wrestling from Hollywood, then a flagship member of the NWA. This TV exposure started to show what he could do, and earned him a tryout with NXT in 2013. But his first run there would turn out pretty uneventful, consisting of half a year of house shows and dark matches. It just wasn’t his time yet. 

In 2015, the future LA Knight got his first big break in TNA/IMPACT, where he also took on the name many fans first knew him under: Eli Drake. He spent the next four years there, honing his skills against some of the best in the business, and even holding the IMPACT World championship for five months. For most performers with his age and experience, that might have been the peak. For him,it was just the precursor.

After leaving IMPACT in 2019, Drake reached a whole new audience as one of the cornerstone stars of Billy Corgan’s new incarnation of the NWA, where he held the NWA World tag team title with James Storm. But the pandemic put a crimp in things and halted much of the NWA’s production in 2020. By the time it started back up again, Eli Drake had been snatched up by WWE, sent to NEXT, and given a whole new name.

Even then, success was far from a sure thing, as fans know all too well. Saddled with the unfortunate Max Dupri persona–and even shoehorned into the role of manager by Vince McMahon, who just didn’t see him as a top player–the man rose above it all, proving that even Vince can be wrong sometimes.

Thankfully, Paul Levesque believed in LA Knight and, gradually, Knight took the reins. A feud with Bray Wyatt, in which Knight was positioned as nothing more than a stepping stone, instead proved the catalyst for his dramatic transformation into a superstar on the rise.

Tired of getting so close but falling short of where he knew he belonged, LA Knight took control of his own destiny. After all these years, the taste of success is that much sweeter. Now, everyone is saying his name, and likely will be for some time to come. 

[cavenewstimes]

AEW Gives Behind The Scenes Look At Adam Copeland's Debut

Read More Wrestling Inc.  By /Oct. 4, 2023 3:57 pm EST The first week of October has belonged to one Adam Copeland. The wrestling world has been unable to get enough of “The Rated R Superstar” ever since he showed up at AEW WrestleDream, officially joining AEW and effectively ending his 25-year association with WWE. And with every single detail of Copeland’s AEW debut seemingly being documented,…

[nicklloydnow]

“In 1972, Lancelot wasn’t coming off as cleanly as Walker Percy would have liked. He was under intense, self-imposed pressure to produce another critically successful novel. A relatively new empty-nester, he was also drinking more heavily than usual, and was in something of a crisis of faith. Writing to his friend Shelby Foote, he said, “I’ve been in a long spell of acedia, anomie and aridity in which, unlike the saints who write under the assaults of devils, I simply get sleepy and doze off.” Percy being Percy, he inserts a wry, self-deprecating note into his reportage, but his travail with the affliction was very real.

(…)

Acedia made its way into modern parlance as sloth, a word we now associate with the supposedly benign vices of laziness or idleness. Percy knew better. In these couple of instances, he does indeed mention laziness and sleepiness, but he does so in the context of acedia’s more classic associations: as a complex, subtle, destructive habit of the soul—with a possibly demonic origin—that neglects the weightier matters of love of God and neighbor for more immediately gratifying pleasures. Moreover, he interprets acedia not just as an arcane spiritual malady of early monastics. Rather, it is a widespread, distinctly modern phenomenon that “has settled like a fallout,” as he says in The Moviegoer, and it is capable of imposing itself upon the modern person regardless of his or her affiliation with the religious life.

A wily demon, acedia is difficult to pin down. It’s a trickster, a shapeshifter, a boggart. It goes out of focus when you try to look directly at it. The term itself defies translation: despondency, sloth, lassitude, ennui, melancholy—each displays an aspect, none the full image.

The desert monks who first wrestled the demon acedia to the ground did so by grinding through their prayers in the pitiless heat of the Egyptian wilderness. In doing so they became superbly intimate with their failures. Evagrius had a theoretical bent and began cataloging the modes and patterns of failure he and his fellow monks encountered. Eventually he placed acedia at the center of a spectrum comprising the “eight thoughts,” the fountainhead of the seven-deadly-sins tradition. On the one side of the spectrum, he said, lie our animal or material vices; on the other, the vices of the intellect. Acedia, he said, is “the complex thought” because it stands at the center of the spectrum and thus assimilates aspects of both the material and the intellectual into itself.

Acedia causes the soul, hovering between a person’s animal nature and rational intellect, to shrink from contemplation or the possibility of contemplation. Reluctant to ascend to pure intellection, it becomes possessed of lethargy and stupefaction. Aridity and ennui take hold, giving rise to restlessness, mania, indolence, somnolence, discouragement—whatever will do to turn the face away from the fire of God’s love. The habit of acedia terminates in the failure of all hope. Acedia in extremis eventuates in despair and in some cases suicide. Thomas Aquinas says acedia pulls apart the constituent parts of the human being and then causes us to mistake the physical, transitory part of human existence for the whole. He calls this mistake “animal beatitude.”

The fundamental paradox of acedia lies in the fact that contemplation must be a possibility in order to experience it. Acedia is so dangerous because it involves a denial of the possibility that God has in fact saved us in the Incarnation. And it is so subtle because it manifests not as rebellion but by sedimenting into the habit of despair. Aquinas’s animal beatitude is not defiance of God but a loss of concern for salvation, a kind of spiritual disintegration. One might even notice one no longer cares about one’s salvation, but one doesn’t care that one doesn’t care.

(…)

Binx tells the reader early on in The Moviegoer that he used to read only “fundamental” books, such as War and Peace and Schrödinger’s What Is Life?—books that he thought would give him mastery over the world. Percy identifies two types of modern people: the theorist and the consumer. Theorists master the world according to abstract generalizations, eliminating the individual person. Consumers, Percy says, participate in “the goods and services of scientific theory”; but as passive, second-tier actors with regard to the ascendant philosopher-kings of modern science, they remain latently dissatisfied. Binx might be said to have renounced the life of the theorist only to have taken up the life of the consumer. Having been involved in scientific research on kidney stones in pigs, he instead became enchanted by the wonder of the world around him, gazing at dust motes in shafts of late-afternoon sunlight. Binx’s renunciation of the life of a theorist resulted from his encounter with something that was calling him beyond everydayness. But he failed to heed the summons of the search and instead slouched into the life of the consumer, pursuing money and women and hiding his despair from himself. Only years later does he notice the failure. The novel turns on his waking himself up from acedia, from the death-in-life of everydayness, and embarking on the search.

The product of both theory and consumption, Percy says, is “sadness and anxiety.” Aquinas says in reference to acedia that “no one can remain in sadness”; we can’t bear it, so we resolve it in some other action. One route we take away from sadness and anxiety is harm—of ourselves and others. Percy says that the denizen of the modern world, whether theorist or consumer, “can become so frustrated, bored, and enraged that he resorts to violence, violence upon himself (drugs, suicide) or upon others (murder, war).” But acedia, or everydayness, presents an opportunity not only for violence but also for real contemplation. Those cast out from both theory and consumerism have the opportunity to open themselves to the risk of something more. “In the old Christendom,” Percy says, “everyone was a Christian and hardly anyone thought twice about it. But in the present age the survivor of theory and consumption becomes a wayfarer in the desert, like St. Anthony; which is to say, open to signs.”

Acedia, once overcome, gives way to prayer. “Prayer,” Evagrius says, “is the elimination of sorrow and dejection.” In a way, then, acedia is the threshold of contemplation, provided one is willing to sit with it rather than flee from it. Spending the night at his mother’s cabin, Binx says he is “locked in a death grip with everydayness, sworn not to move a muscle until I advance another inch in my search.” When he does advance, it is by overcoming his “invincible apathy”—another daughter of acedia.

(…)

What does all this have to do with acedia? As the ultimate antidote to acedia, Thomas Aquinas recommends nothing less than the Incarnation itself. Acedia is a malady that pulls apart the animal and rational parts of our nature and pits them against each other. As the archetype of humanity, the incarnate Christ, fully God and fully man, not only perfectly joins body and mind and thus heals our deformed, schizoid human nature but also bears in himself the fullness of God’s sacramental presence in creation.

(…)

Percy maintained throughout his life that, “to the degree that a society has been overtaken by a sense of malaise, the vocation of the artist...can perhaps be said to come that much closer to that of the diagnostician.” The artist’s work, in other words, is not an autopsy but a diagnosis made in the hope of recovery—an attempt, he says, to “give the sickness a name, to render the unspeakable speakable.” Even when he is at his bleakest, Percy manages to counter despair with the possibility, however elusive, of hope. The fact that Lamar is speaking about—even confessing��his vengefulness and violence indicates as much; and the novel closes on the possibility of dialogical counterpoint, maybe even absolution. What will Percival the psychiatrist-priest say in response to Lancelot’s confession? The novel doesn’t tell us. But there are signs, even amid the darkness of Lancelot’s infernal vision, that Lamar could still move into the realm of contemplation. The question is whether we, the readers Percy is ultimately addressing, are able to recognize those signs.

Percy believed that the world is strewn with such signs, if only we are looking for them, and know where to look. It is all too easy to miss—or even blind ourselves to—the signs of the transcendent shot through the world of the everyday, and therefore to miss everything. But it is exactly in that world that we find Walker Percy, a voice in the wilderness crying out like a prophet, “He that hath ears to hear let him hear.””

“There often seem to be two camps of Percy readers: those who still treat him as Gospel Prophet of the Apocalyptic Modern World and those who think he is overrated, too outdated, or otherwise done to death. As a convert driven away from evangelicalism toward Catholicism largely through reading his (and other Catholic) novels, I am particularly interested in the rather strong opinions longtime or cradle Catholics tend to have of him. As image bearers of the One True Church, Catholics need to understand what people coming in from the outside see worth clinging to in Catholicism.

While I generally try to be understanding of people’s differing tastes, when I see Catholics criticizing him, misunderstanding him, or trying to dismiss his value, I am almost tempted to shake them, demanding: don’t you understand what a good thing you have here? (I am also tempted to throw in some profanity for good Percy-character measure.) Yet I suspect that in the case of Walker Percy, it may be a situation where if you have to ask what is so great about him, you might not understand the explanation. If you are uncomfortable with the aspects of his writing that are meant to evoke discomfort—and are leaving it at that—perhaps you are missing the point.

(…)

On a certain level, perhaps I can understand how some people might not appreciate Percy’s style. He was writing with such an intense focus on such a particular period in American culture that, if you are not looking hard enough, it can be hard to see the swamp for the moss. At certain times in my relationship with Percy, I have wandered off, unable to see how his obsessions with the banal sorts of evil that weigh us down every day could translate to my life—or perhaps I was simply too close to them.

For it seems to me that most of the charges our current culture might like to weigh against people like him—too comfortable with language about things like race and gender that now can grate against our postmodern sensibilities; too comfortable with making us uncomfortable with how difficult it is to truly face our lower natures—reflect the very people in his novels whom we are meant to see as lacking something vital.

(…)

I like to think it is this reality-centered aspect of Percy’s work that makes him particularly well suited for a time like Lent. It is why I feel this almost magnetic pull toward his books each year as winter gives way to Mardi Gras, reminding me of the physical and spiritual scenes that await. If we are uncomfortable with Percy for moral or aesthetic reasons, Lancelot is an ideal litmus test for getting us in tune with our own failings. In my case, the novel makes me squirm as it forces me to consider in an almost Dostoevskian sense how easy it can be to descend into evil once the word is stripped of its gravity or essence.

When getting from day to day becomes the most difficult obstacle—too familiar to anyone with depression or other chronic (physical or spiritual) ailments—larger mysteries can become nearly impossible to take seriously. Trapped with his own thoughts and a vague recollection of his capacity for evil, Lance just wanted to figure out the endless puzzle of living from one moment to the next. As he said of someone else, “All he had to do was solve the mystery of the universe, which may be difficult but is not as difficult as living an ordinary life.”

He did not know what words “meant” anymore; he just wanted love and a tall glass of something good. Spoken as a true citizen of Louisiana, Lance felt that “one of the biggest discoveries” of his life was this: “It was simply that there is such a thing as a beautiful day to go out into, a road to travel, good food to eat when you’re hungry, wine to drink when you’re thirsty, and most of all, 99 percent of all, no: all of all: a woman to love.”

(…)

Despite the long-windedness of some of his characters, Percy has a unique way of cutting through the fat to proclaim certain truths about human nature that are simultaneously peculiar to his time and relevant to all times. His anti-heroic heroes’ frequent inability to abide by such truths is merely a reflection of how impossible it is to live in a state of grace without constantly returning to its source—how frequently our own natures (not to mention our culture) impede our ability to recognize that grace, much less remain open to it.

That brokenness, as it dwells alongside a certain measure of conviction that we are made for something better, makes these books uncomfortable inasmuch as they are supremely relatable—far more so, arguably, than Flannery’s freaks or Waugh’s statuesque pilgrims of a bygone age. In all cases, however, it is that underlying conviction that Catholicism makes reality possible that ultimately redeems our pathetic attempts to attain it. Despite his characters’ crooked paths toward this truth, Percy never wavers.

(…)

A great strength of so much of the best Catholic literature is what might be termed a “proof by contrast”: the reality of the Church is demonstrated primarily by the obvious incompleteness or misunderstandings of opposing points of view. In this sense, I can understand the less aggressive approach to evangelization that I have tended to encounter among many Catholics. It is almost as if their apologetics could be summed up in another familiar Percy quote: “What else is there?””

[aboutanancientenquiry]

Religion, Empire, and Torture

The Case of Achaemenian Persia, with a Postscript on Abu Ghraib

Bruce Lincoln

How does religion stimulate and feed imperial ambitions and violence? Recently this question has acquired new urgency, and in Religion, Empire, and Torture, Bruce Lincoln approaches the problem via a classic but little-studied case: Achaemenian Persia.

Lincoln identifies three core components of an imperial theology that have transhistorical and contemporary relevance: dualistic ethics, a theory of divine election, and a sense of salvific mission. Beyond this, he asks, how did the Achaemenians understand their place in the cosmos and their moral status in relation to others? Why did they feel called to intervene in the struggle between good and evil? What was their sense of historic purpose, especially their desire to restore paradise lost? And how did this lead them to deal with enemies and critics as imperial power ran its course? Lincoln shows how these religious ideas shaped Achaemenian practice and brought the Persians unprecedented wealth, power, and territory, but also produced unmanageable contradictions, as in a gruesome case of torture discussed in the book’s final chapter. Close study of that episode leads Lincoln back to the present with a postscript that provides a searing and utterly novel perspective on the photographs from Abu Ghraib.

Source: https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/R/bo3775652.html

Faculty 

Caroline E. Haskell Distinguished Service Professor Emeritus of the History of Religions in the Divinity School; also in the Center for Middle Eastern Studies and Committee on Medieval Studies; Associate Faculty in the Departments of Anthropology and Clas

PhD (University of Chicago)

Bruce Lincoln emphasizes critical approaches to the study of religion. He is particularly interested in issues of discourse, practice, power, conflict, and the violent reconstruction of social borders. His research tends to focus on the religions of pre-Christian Europe and pre-Islamic Iran, but he has a notoriously short attention span and has also written on a bewildering variety of topics, including Guatemalan curanderismo, Lakota sun dances, Melanesian funerary rituals, Swazi kingship, the Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre, Marco Polo, professional wrestling, Persian imperialism, the theology of George W. Bush, and comparative demonology. His most recent publications include Between History and Myth: Stories of Harald Fairhair and the Founding of the State (2014) and Discourse and the Construction of Society: Comparative Studies of Myth, Ritual, and Classification, 2nd Ed. (2014) and Politique du paradis: Religion et empire en Perse achéménide (2015).

Source: https://divinity.uchicago.edu/directory/bruce-lincoln

This is a very interesting book and I will reproduce in separate posts two reviews of it. For the reconstruction of the Persian religious imperial ideology and the exploration of the role of this ideology in the legitimation of the use of gruesome torture against the enemies and critics of the Great Kings, the author combines the use of Persian and Greek sources, with first in the latter category obviously Herodotus.

[vitusxaydin]

"Oh yeah? How many siblings are we talking? One-on-one fights or royal rumble?" Vitus asked, amused at the mental image of a younger Darrius, running around his house, dodging the flailing limbs of a host of siblings. He was grateful to have not been in a fight in years. His twenties were dotted in them, as if someone had punched morse code into his memories—gaping holes filled with violence he'd never wanted and had to figure his way out of on a dime. Merrock held the exact opposite association: calm, quiet, he couldn't imagine getting into one of those fights here. "Aw, damn. I was hoping this town would have something juicy hidden beneath the floorboards. But I guess, yeah, in a place this small, nothing ever really stays a secret."

The small details Darrius released about his family made Vitus smile, soft and slow. He marveled at what it must feel like, to have that sense of closeness with his folks, to reminisce so fondly about wrestling with siblings. "What your mom doesn't know won't hurt her. But, god, please don't ever say wuddur like that again. That just hurt me, Darrius," he said, chuckling. "It's wawtuh. Drop the R and soften that T, and then you'll make me proud." His brows crawled up his face in pleasant surprise as Darrius started rattling off museum names. "Damn, it sounds like you got to do a little bit of everything while you were there. Did you go during Cherry Blossom season too? DC is beautiful that time of year. Definitely would've given you the full experience."

"I was okay with wrestling my siblings," he admitted, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "But I was always really, really good at yelling for mom whenever I didn't want to wrestle, too." At that, another grin slid over his face. Having been raised as the baby of the family did have some perks, even if he didn't want to admit it. When Vitus talked about being more ofa freeze kind of person, too, he nodded, compeltely understanding. Not everyone wanted to use fists over words, end up in a fight instead of talking things out. "For what it's worth, if you took the self defense classes, you could still kick my ass," he offered with a lopsided, easy-going smile. Darrius was good in the gym, for what it was worth, but not so much on the metaphorical mat. Letting out a loud laugh when Vitus asked for the nitty gritty behind the scenes sort of things with the town, Darrius shook his head, "so the thing is, I actually think the town is too small for it to be like, secret?" A shake of his head before he continued, "this stuff was just blasted on the front page of the paper, like someone's marital affair was a war declaration."

"What, and drop my Chicago accent so that my mom disowns me entirely?" he asked on a soft gasp. Actually, he had done that on his own almost immediately upon leaving Chicago, for whatever reason. Either an attempt to adapt, or maybe Darrius really was part chameleon, and it just came naturally to him. "But you can definitely teach me. Maybe give me some of the most important phrases, too, like… wuddur for water? Is that still a thing in the New York area?" At least if he mocked it a little bit to Vitus, he didn't think he was going to find himself punched. "I did! The African American History and Culture national museum -- and the one for art, too. Also just the American art museum, of course. Air and Space, Natural History, God, it was so many. Saw all of the monuments, too."