This is one of those times that I wish that I had just kept my big mouth shut.

About a month ago, when I first spoke to Flip about starting this article, I remember him asking me how often I planned to crank one out. I remember a voice in the back of my head screaming �ONCE A MONTH!� But no, I had to be Superman and tell him that this article would be bi-weekly. Now here I am, vacationing in beautiful, sunny Florida, and what do I remember? I have an article due. I could be taking my son to see the mouse right now. It�s a nice day. Oh, well. Just remember; you all owe me.

I�m going to officially start this article (my little tirade above was completely unrelated to wrestling in any way, so therefore not an official start) with something having nothing to do with e-fedding. I�m going to officially start with me having met wrestler number four on the top five wrestlers that I would want to meet.

As had been noted in my previous article, my life is really pretty boring. Work and e-fedding pretty much dominated my life, until the closing of BWI. Now, work and video games pretty much dominate my life. There is actually a third thing that dominates my life, but I think my wife would kill me if I mentioned freaky sex. WHOOPS! Obviously, there are going to be exceptions to this rule every now and again, and one of the exceptions would be once every two months when an indy fed rolls into town about thirty miles away from my home. My son and I enjoy watching such stars as Eddie Venom, Truth Martini, Cody Deaner, Drew �The Don� Johnson, Scotty Sabre, and Dusty Dillinger. I mentioned their names because I know that their contracts are not exclusive to one company, and also because I know that this company has signed a couple of these guys to developmental deals at one point or another. If you happen to follow O.V.W., the Highlanders are also from this company, but they were signed to their developmental deal right before we started watching. Also, Eddie Venom was a druid for Saturday Night Main Event, so that�s kind of cool, also.

Okay, so now on to the day in question. I can�t exactly remember the date, but I know the show name was �March to Glory�, which meant that it was a Saturday in early March. My son and I hand our tickets to my friend that works as ring crew/security and take our seat in front of his fianc�e. Normally my son would be talking her ear off, but he had strep throat that day (which I wound up catching) and slept through a good part of the show, allowing me to talk to Dena. We spoke on her life, my life, how I believe that she wants to have wild sex with me, and of course, wrestling. She then informed me that a relatively famous wrestler was scheduled to be there, and her man, Andy, was supposed to do something for him right after he comes out. My reply was something to the extent of �If you�re right, I don�t care who he�s in there with, I going to mark out like crazy.�

The show begins and I go into my usual routine of cheering like crazy for the heels. It works so well on so many different levels because only about three people in the audience do it so we are bound to get recognition. One day, I was the only one cheering for �Your Hero� Mr. Main Event, and he gave me props as the only guy that recognized greatness when he saw it. At this particular event, I confused a heel wrestler, Flex Falcone, and after a few seconds of confusion he eventually told me to shut up. My son was awake for this and began screaming at him that nobody tells his daddy to shut up. It was cool.

Moving on to what was supposed to be about halfway through the show, Heel interviewer Ripper Blackheart comes out to the ring and calls out Dusty Dillinger, who had actually been fired after losing a cage match to the late Stevie Lee. The deal was made that he would be wrestle at any show if he were able to get three hundred signatures from fans. He got his three hundred signatures, Ripper checked it out, and called out heel owner Bobby V. Bobby V. looked at the paper and turned to Matt Mason and Carlton Kaz, who were supposed to wrestle later in the night to crown the first Tag Team Champions in a tables match. Mason and Kaz proceed to tear Dillinger up for about two minutes, until he is rescued by the other two that were supposed to wrestle for the tag belts, Dexter Dementia and Stamp Lickage, giving the faces an advantage. After a short time, Danny Daniels and Sherman Tank run out to once again give the heels a one man advantage. And then, another guy runs out and starts clearing out the heels, somebody not a member of the roster. I am temporarily confused, as is the rest of the audience. Finally it dawns upon us all who it is, and my mouth drops as I proceed to mark out like crazy. Finally, the ring clears out except for Dillinger and this other wrestler whose name I have withheld for dramatic effect. The other wrestler grabs a mic, but before he is able to speak, I�m not done marking out, and neither is my friend John who is sitting behind me. So, from the second and third row, we start the chant:

�HEAD! HEAD! HEAD! HEAD!�

There, about twenty feet in front of me, was Al Snow, who was smiling and nodding at John and me at this point. He then proceeds to go off into one of the best promos I have ever heard. Near the end of the promo, he announced that he would be tagging with Dusty Dillinger to take on whichever cowardly attackers took the challenge. As he walked back up the ramp, it was announced that Mr. Snow would be signing autographs and posing for pictures for ten dollars. I quickly checked my wallet. Fourteen dollars. YES!

But as I sat in the audience, looked at my picture, and watched Carlton Kaz and Danny Daniels pin Al Snow, I came to a harsh realization: no matter how smart a fan I may be, deep down I�m still a mark. But is that really so bad? So with the death of BWI, I decided to embrace it, hence the name �Hitting the Mark�. I no longer have any control of what happens in the world of Zeus e-fedding, and while sometimes that idea drives me nuts, I have come to the conclusion that what the world� needs now� are marks� sweet marks.

Okay, so smart fans are nice, but did any of us REALLY start out as a smart fan? I�d be willing to bet that almost everyone reading this that is close to my age cheered every time �Real American� hit the speakers when they were watching a show from the company now known as WWE. And while the smart fan knows that Hogan only knows about four moves and has done so many �roids that he�s only a little way off from being Bob from Fight Club, the mark can appreciate his abilities on the mic. This is what I get to see now. Who cares that Jagi Shiro was after the Franchise title and therefore Wildcard�s arch-nemesis, he�s great on the mic. The same is true for countless others in both of our Zeus feds, but I�ll save who all I like for later articles. This does bring up a point that I wish to bring across to Flip and the fed owners, though: where are our marks?

In a post on Flip�s message board, the idea of starting up an old fed was brought up, but shot down with the argument that there really weren�t enough people in the game to spread out right now. I agree. However, how does our community plan to change that? Really, if one thinks about the matter hard enough, the game isn�t dead, but it�s dying. Just look at the difference in number between the two feds in BWI and the two feds we�re running now. While it is true that we have pulled quite a few big names from the past, we�re missing a lot of the newer guys that were supposed to bring us to a new level, such as BTK that wrestled a total of two matches under BWI.

So how do we solve our diminishing population problem? The only answer I can think of would be to create marks. I mean, think about it. Our promos are not controlled by some writer that knows very little about the character. Our matches are not pre-determined by whose picture would look best on a t-shirt. Really, we are delivering a superior product to what you see on television, but the message isn�t getting spread. We need to get to people at the beginning of wrestling, people that haven�t necessarily been brainwashed into thinking that John Cena is a great wrestler just because he�s easily marketable. People that want more, people that will BUY our idea. Those marks will eventually become smart fans, and perhaps those smart fans will move into the business, or game in this case. But the only way we can do this is to spread the word and hit the mark. Aim angles at fans, and perhaps eventually we�ll have a fan base rather than a bunch of wrestlers (or, in my case, retired wrestlers) reading our stuff for the sheer joy of seeing one of our characters� names in print. Please don�t tell me I was the only one that did that...

I was going to leave this second article with my ode to the mark and go try to catch a gator, but there is one more thing that has been on my mind. While I claimed earlier that I am trying to write this from the perspective of a mark, the fact that I�m writing this at all proves that I am more than a mark. I am a professional. As such, I am forced to call out a fellow journalist in his terribly unprofessional attitude: BJ Styles, writer for GIWF. Now, don�t get me wrong, I fully support my first amendment rights to say whatever I want, but I also know that my job is to write opinions in a calm and professional manner, NOT use the alternate name for a female dog as many times as possible (I counted four). BJ Styles, I understand that you were once a wrestler and feel that a certain shock value needs to be maintained in order to keep you interesting, but as soon as you gave up your wrestling gear, you should have also shed the wrestling mindset. So, journalist to journalist, allow me to answer your questions posed in your first article. Was it garbage then? I don�t know, I didn�t read it �then� and don�t even know when �then� was. Is it garbage now? Yes. Clean it up or your journalistic career will be an even bigger joke than your wrestling career.


This is Jordan "the Joker" Jewett, and I'm out.

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