Sometimes the messenger can be almost as important as the message itself. When we first fired SSM back up, the first question everyone asked was “Where is Eddie Allen”? So much so that I had to quickly address it. That wasn’t enough for some people and they went looking. That search was indirectly responsible for finding an answer that I didn’t even want. In this case the messenger was Eddie’s good friend from high school and a SSM content collaborator in his own right. The man, the myth. Curly.
I was told that if I didn’t come over to his house that I was going to have four visitors at my own door. Nothing like a little peer pressure from three former high school friends. I walked in to them watching old episodes of Kentuckiana and a bit of spirited yelling. It must have freaked me out a little because all three of them asked me what was wrong and why I was shaking. I told them I wasn’t shaking, but in a few minutes I would be.
Curly isn’t the person you want to give you any serious news. His delivery is not one of doctor telling you about your terminal cancer, but more yelling like someone who doesn’t like a call you’ve made as a ref at a game. He asked me what the fuck was going on with Eddie, and when I told him I hadn’t talked to him in three years or so he just blurted back that “Well…….now he’s retarded!” Wait. What?
Before I can go any further I have to explain something else. If you read “last things first” you know that I said I had threatened Eddie Allen in code much the way gangsters do in all those movies we love so much. Turns out Eddie had been threatening me for years, and I only just today picked up on it. He always told me that if things went sideways he had a nuclear option. I assumed he meant if his wife ever caught him doing what we used to do. I thought it was a divorce reference. But he used it when talking about wrestling too. Also when we were in The Electric Heimann together. He never elaborated. He never had to use the Nuclear Option. Until he did.
I’ve now heard from a couple of different people that Mr. Allen has suffered a stroke and claims he doesn’t remember the last five years. I’m not a fucking doctor, but I’m pretty fucking sure that’s not how a stroke works. You can lose your long term memory or short term, but it’s not going to cut out a part of your life with such surgical precision as to only cover your fake trolling career as a Wrestler/Singer/News Anchor/Sportscaster/Writer/Actor. That’s precisely what he is claiming the stroke did. It wiped out his memory of Eddie Allen. Eddie is his real first name. Allen never was. It was his stripper name, if you will.
It’s a trolling masterstroke. I already have people who tell me that it’s legit, and he really is fucked up. They aren’t buying it as an act. That’s the genius of it. Who the fuck is going to call him out? You might ask yourself what kind of monster would fake something like that? Andy Kaufman. The guy we both worshiped. Eddie had already faked cancer quite publicly just to fuck with a wrestling promoter. Faking a stroke and having extremely selective memory loss is right up his alley. It’s absolutely in his wheelhouse. The only one who ever broke character for him was me. I’m not around anymore. Simply put, I’ve been nuked at my own game. Game. Set. Match.
Chris Moon gleefully fired me from SSM after a nice talk about this. He is the president after all, and I have brought much shame to this fake media site. We can’t go back at him because it would look like we are attacking a man who has suffered a terrible twist of fate. I haven’t seen him with my own two eyes, but I’ve heard from several people that they saw him and he didn’t look “right”. I have zero doubt in his ability to carry on with this act forever, I just literally don’t know if it’s true or not. I never will. You never will. That’s the great joke, and why I have to take my sideshow act back to my old site again. More out of the respect of being out done than any other reason. I have to admit. I haven’t laughed this hard in a really, really long time.
I just don’t know if I’m laughing at tragedy, or genius. Fucking irony.