Call To Arms In Philly & NYC

The time has come to rise. And if not now, then when? You could tell me, “Kid, you’re still young, with years to worry about the rest of your life,” but I have never listened. I’m not about to start now.

Whether it be on the whims of your imagination or, by the black flag draped across your face, rise with us in Philadelphia; in Manhattan. At this point, all we can know is war. There is not a second standing by for sympathy. We’ll scream at the top of our lungs, or bleed a gallon onto the New York City streets, if only for a flash of revolution.

I have been waiting my entire life for an opportunity to change the world. Some might think its blasphemy, but moments in time happen differently for everyone. If it’s your dream to ride through the storm to find the world stopped on its axis, the stars so close you can touch them, and the population of the world reduced to dust; if that is your glory, then I ask you to release your inhibitions to the hounds, and charge the motherfucking lines with us!!

This is your Age. This is your Fall. Let go and burn the establishment to the ground! Take back your birthright! Redeem the freedom! We are a generation of thinkers. And our minds are more powerful than any army; than any brainwashed bastard children who have grown into ignorant adults who now live life like they are already dead.

You are alive. Live life with no regret.


Here we are; up too late to get up too early. No one is really an insomniac, but why can’t we sleep? I’m not even thinking of anything aside from why I’ve got nothing to think on. The kids who’ve got it down are the ones I envy. The ones with a sense of pride in their purpose.

The problem with me is that I’ve thought so much, for so long that thinking has become redundant. I could come up with a million ideas, and none of them would be new, or grandiose; and not a one would change the fucking certainty of death. We’re the kids who depress ourselves with the feeling that living has lost its luster. When I stopped believing—or caring to believe—in God, that was a death in its own right. When we get old enough to realize that it’s all a pile of shit, we give up hope that life has any real incentive, besides of course, the little rewards we choose to value in life itself. So, over the course of time everything loses it’s silver lining because it’s so easy to figure out that all of it—the love, the lies, the hopes, the dreams—they really mean nothing in the end. For some, this realization is suicide. For us? For us, it’s escape.

Jesus was a man who had an edge. His fate, he knew. And thus, he had the freedom to truly live. Because the story of Jesus exists, we can all be messiahs. We can be the ones to save ourselves. And if I can save just me, and if you can save just you, then we can save the world. But only if we do it together. Scoff if it’s your natural reaction. I will understand. I will not exile you. I will not forsake you. But I will trample over your lifeless corpse when the time comes, and I will not feel guilt for leaving it behind. We are not gracious, or sinless. There is much to be learned about falling apart; it’s not an exact science. But what we have figured out is that it’s better than believing in the overdramatic, quasi-tragedies of our useless generation. Once you let go and realize that truth is what you make it, then you can really begin to appreciate anything that matters in life; whatever that matter may be.



Pass out. Who remembers 9th grade? There first day your life really changes is something you should look forward to. I recall being afraid. They say everyone you meet changes your life. I don’t know who “they” are, but they’re wrong. I hopped on the L for the first time ever a few weeks ago. If I met anyone on that 15 minute train ride, I don’t remember any names or faces. It was early in the morning; the sun was just peeking out. It must have wanted to go back to sleep too, because I swear it hung on that horizon for a few extra, fleeting moments. I could almost feel it willing itself to light up the sky. I closed my eyes.

There are some feelings you never want to feel after the first time you feel them. Insignificance is one of those. Maybe mediocrity isn’t a tragedy; at least not as much as it was back in 9th grade, but it is something, or there wouldn’t be a term to describe the stagnation. Maybe you reading this have never felt mediocre. And, chances are, if you haven’t, then you probably haven’t ever felt a thing in your life. You, the simplest one of all, with your lack of questions and your apathy for answers…fuck you. Simple enough?

Yeah, so we’re all dead; what else is new? So stop giving a fuck? Is that it? Why fall in love if your heart is unbreakable? Why turn your back if your skin is impenetrable? Why dream when the truth is much worse? Because it’s fucking life, that’s why. And unless you have a better understanding of the afterlife than I, seek solutions. Seek resolve. Our mission is to enlighten the ones who walk behind—there’s hope for us all.

What’s more sincere; ignorance, or honesty? It’s time to decide.



As Jimmy, Lacey and I wheeled the beaten and broken Mark Briscoe onto the entrance ramp last Saturday in Edison, the beauty of the moment overcame me. Through the spotlight all I could see were bewildered faces and desperate eyes searching for meaning in the silent hysteria that our actions had caused. I could feel the tension as it cascaded over my skin in harmonious waves. Immediately, I knew all the questions you were asking yourselves inside. And I know the answers you’re seeking won’t be what most of you want to hear, but the truth remains that Ring of Honor has asked us to prove ourselves before we can take a stab at power. We’ve taken that advice to heart.

The first casualties have been tallied. We aren’t out to devour innocent souls, but if this is how it has to be, then we’ll work the system before the system can get its hands on us. Necro just got out of the hospital where he was recovering from surgery. His elbow in bandages, his eyes slightly glazed, but his heart is beating stronger than ever. Jimmy, Lacey, or I would all have fought Jay Briscoe to the same end had the chance been ours. We are many things, but none of those things are what they make us.

We are here to spread a message pertaining to the perception that is life. Personal gain is not on the agenda. We’re here to show you that you don’t have to be dictated to. Not by them, not by us, and not by God. We aren’t the ones making rules, but sometimes reality is compromise. And not compromise like the traditional give and take, but rather take and take until there is nothing left, and hearts have to reprogram. We compromise the approach and they compromise their ideals. Once the transition is complete the Fall can really begin, and the bottom will become visible to the naked eye.

One step at a time…
Soon the walls will start to shake…
In hope and in time…
Value is what you’ve made…


Rally in Boston and Edison

Who am I to talk about God? About giving up? About giving in?

No one’s here because I told them to be. No one hears what I have to say because I’m some messiah for the misunderstood. Time has evolved humankind. There is no escaping. This is the Age of the Fall. And whether it’s embraced, or cast aside, this Age will stake its claim alongside every other era in history. It’s time for awareness.

This weekend’s shows will be another shout to the Enders…

Fiends in Boston and Edison, may you rise up and shed your fear. Show your strength by taking your place in the mosaic of revolution. Wear black bandannas. Guise your faces and let the world see the beauty in belief. Don’t be afraid to stand out. For if you give in to that fa├žade, then where is our heart? Cross the line in the sand and pick up your feet. Never blur the clarity of the division we’ve made, because if we don’t stand out, there is no hope.

Our collective voice must be heard clearly through the muffled array of typicality. By all means, enjoy your time spent at a professional wrestling show. But don’t forget to stand your ground, and let them know who we are.

We’re here with a voice
We’re here with a mission.

Friday, October 5, 2007: Boston, Massachusetts
Saturday, October 6, 2007: Edison, New Jersey

The time to live is now.



This is probably unexpected. What? The woman has something to say? The mindless follower of the group? The ROH whore? What is a whore, anyway?

I make the accusation most everyone in this society is a bigger whore than I have ever been. So I manipulated the feeble minds of a couple men to gain an important business advantage by using my sexual superiority…its much less an evil than what most of you commit every day. Besides, I’ve really only proved my point. I forced myself into this company using these all too familiar tactics, and now I’ve forced myself into the spotlight. ROH is the beginning, and it is the platform for our revolution.

This is my call out to you weak-minded, conforming, chauvinistic women. Existence precedes essence, however, so an individual is not born a “woman,” but becomes one via societal pressures and standards… and the women you have become are not women to be proud of.

Historically women have almost always been considered deviant and abnormal, with maleness as the ultimate ideal. From the talmud to the bible to the qur'an women have been run into the ground as second class citizens. Many centuries ago one male, vengeful god was venerated, and women came to be seen as the property of men. The Old Religion of humankind, in which the ultimate creator was the FEMALE Earth Goddess, became labeled as “evil.” Witchcraft, as it would come to be known, was banished, and suppressed into the night, along with any remaining free spirits.

Women continue to be exploited and devalued today through the patriarchal political system we have set up. Our modern institutions such as marriage, childcare and domestic work all exploit and devalue women, as they keep them in the control of men. Why are women still earning less pay than men for the same jobs? Why do the rich men at the top of our system hold us down and hold us back?

Men cannot take all the blame, however, as women also exploit and devalue themselves. Women often seek to conform to the most simplistic, plastic stereotypes of female sexuality. Every day you wake up and thoughtlessly go on about your business, primping and preening to be sure you look your best. You spend thousands of dollars at the mall to ensure you have the latest look of the season. You ravage the latest magazines full of diet tricks and fashion advice, hoping for the quick and easy solution to all your life troubles. Maybe some breast implants will help your cause. Perhaps you also need some liposuction, a face lift, a tan and a Brazilian wax job. Day after day you subject yourselves to the most torturous beauty (shallow) regimens all under the false pretenses of self service.

The Age of the Fall is comprised of social outcasts…but none are more outcast than women. We cannot seem to find our place in this universe and claim it. Left up to men (and more recently ourselves as well), we are sexual objects, breeders, possessions. And what do we do to stand up and fight against this? Most of you accept this horrible fate at the very least, while many of you perpetuate and encourage it. It was such a short time ago that our mothers were beginning to see the light, supporting feminism and individuality —‘burning their bras’ and picketing outside of Playboy. Now we are getting implants and wearing the infamous bunny logo as a symbol of our so-called “liberation.” We are not liberated. We have conformed to male ideals. You now have a chance to redeem yourselves and your entire gender. Stand up and claim your rightful place in the world as a respectable human being. Join like-minded strong women in the quest to destroy this society and its senseless standards. Join us, we are The Age of the Fall. - Lacey



Feeble souls have taken their toll on my conscience. I feel obliged to respond.

We are not birds. We are not in a nest. This is not some psychobabble construed by years of pills and failure to confront abandonment issues. I am not a prophet, nor will I claim to be your savior, your messiah, or your martyr. Simultaneously, I won’t sit here and tell you that we are all the same, that we are all scum, created equal, or worthless. I’m not a movie line, nor a cardboard cut out. It makes sense to me, though, that the majority of the skeptics who have brought themselves here merely take a few seconds to skim across these words in hopes of finding a phrase or a paragraph they can mock and dispel. Because the truth is, the same as we all believe in something (or nothing), we have to withhold some disbelief, because if we didn’t then faith would be nothing more than a fleeting wretch…oh wait…it already fucking is.

The Age of the Fall is a generation of middle of the road motherfuckers with a chip on our shoulder. Our army outnumbers any the world has ever seen. We all have different pasts, and if there is no action now, we will all end up with the same stagnant, dire future. Blame capitalism. Blame democracy. Or even blame your mother and father. I don’t give a fuck. But when you wake up tomorrow and your breakfast tastes like shit, and your entire day is spent wondering who you could fuck or kill, remember that self-worth is often overlooked or ignored. If you haven’t already, ask yourself, “Is this where I want to be; is this who I want to be?” When you get a real answer from your conditioned-to-avoid brain, come back and tell me how you feel. No, really. Come back; tear down your own preconceptions and remove your fashionable fucking labels. Now figure out what side of the line you are on. There is no right answer. No wrong answer. Just a way back in, or the way out.