The Million Dollar Rant On Ultimate Warrior [Archive]

Black Widow

06-05-2010, 11:35 AM

ULTIMATE WARRIOR has stepped up his feud with Ted DiBiase, by slamming The Million Dollar Man's career, lifestyle and religion.

Warrior was outraged after his fellow WWE legend claimed he didn't belong in the company's Hall Of Fame, saying his push exceeded his talent.

Now the former world champion has hit back, posting a 4,783 word rant on his website UltimateWarrior.com.

Warrior blasted: "What it all really boils down to is jealousy. Envy. I did better in the business than you, walked away from it on my own terms, with my integrity intact, and I've done better in my life away from it.

"You say the only time I had a great match was when someone was leading me around by the nose.

"Once and for all, let's stop the BS and put things in no uncertain terms - without guys like me, Ted Dibiase, you never would have worked a main event match.

"You were so smart about the business, Teddy, you were too stupid to figure out how it really works.

"Guys like you funded petty cash. Guys like me - and Hogan and Savage at the time - paid the mortgages and the travel bills and the production costs of the whole operation.

"Your profit making contribution was like hitting three cherries on a nickel slot machine. Mine was like hitting the Powerball Jackpot.

"I earned my limousine. Yours was provided as part of your silly gimmick.

"Reality check: My quarterly royalty checks were for more money than you made in a whole year.

"It was never about who could draw money with a guy like you - it was always about who could draw money with a guy like me. Guys like you were one-of-many. Guys like me were one-of-a-kind."

Both men are devoted Christians, with DiBiase turning his life around and becoming a Minister after a lifestyle that included cheating on his wife.

Warrior is not convinced by the change however, labelling his foe as "Satan's Pig".

He added: "Let's be honest, here, Father Teddy.

"It was never guilt that made you change your ways to become a man of God. It was gluttony - and your dark desire to continue getting away with it.

"You've never had the discipline, in your whole life, to restrain your appetites for anything - and you still don't. All you've done is substitute vices and indulgences.

"When you were in the business and your ego was powered by your gimmick and your fame and celebrity, you were gluttonous for sluts and salacious thoughts and living.

"When it was all over, the superficiality of celebrity was gone and you had nothing to cling to anymore to cover up your natural repulsiveness.

"Even the worst whores have standards.

"Once you were nothing, without the TV and the Million Dollar Man gimmick (which WWF footed the entire bill for), they wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

"You crawled home on your knees to your wife and God, all seemingly in the desire to be forgiven.

"But all you've truly done is use religion as an excuse and means to continue getting away with other forms of self-indulgent gluttony."

The Sun

Dear Teddy letters are good for the soul.
By admin

Dear Teddy,

Long time.

I apologize for my delay in getting back to you. Over the last few years, I’ve gotten ornery about handling nuisances that cut into my Bible reading time. A man of your religious stature understands, I’m sure.

Your recent interview was brought to my attention. Classic stuff, buddy. Another super inspiring sermon. Nothing but Joy to the World whenever you’re in the house. The foul, satanic breath. Your worm-infested heart riddled with hate and envy.

Teddy, you have to lay off the lard, man. Apparently, you believe we all gargle with Krispy Kreme batter like you do and have brains so suffocated in fat that we can’t see clearly and think properly. You wonder for the life of you who do I think I am? Really? Who do I think I am? Serious? What, do you have those circus mirrors in your house? You know, the ones that distort your image. Or is your delusion natural? Cause I think people would be much more amused to know: who do you think you are? Didn’t it cross your mind for even a second, when you made the snidely remarks you did, that listeners would stop and think, “you gotta be f’ing kidding me, who does this Dibiase guy think he is?”

Jesus Christ, Teddy, the peddling of your ministry’s afterlife fantasy does not make people entirely deaf, dumb and blind to reality here on earth. Decent and sensible human beings have figured you out. You didn’t really give us any choice. Over the years, you’ve made who you are easy to understand. People know when they are in the presence of a con man. You’re a hypocrite of the worst kind. Religion being subject to quite a bit of mystery and ambiguity, there’s nothing mysterious or ambiguous about who you really are. We see and hear an impostor — because that is exactly what you are.

You live a life so far removed from the actual word of God, Ted, it’s reasonable to believe your Bible is Mein Kampf. You practice the Seven Deadly Sins more than you do any of the Biblical virtues.

Your hatred for me is palpable. When you talk about me, you swell up with it (trust me, there’s a measurable increase in bloat). On the Self-Destruction DVD, no one showed more a face of hatred than you. There’s one particular moment where it practically oozes off the screen. And yet, you claim to live by beliefs that allow for no hatred of any man. In fact, you do more than that — you make your living preaching this belief to others.

What it all really boils down to is jealousy. Envy. I did better in the business than you, walked away from it on my own terms, with my integrity intact, and I’ve done better in my life away from it. This is the poison eating away at you from within. I think the word your kind use is covet — which, by the way, happens to be another one of the Seven Deadly sins. Which label we use to describe this malady you harbor doesn’t matter. They are all varying degrees of sick, mental disorder.

I did not know — but recently discovered — that you promote yourself at your Heart of David Ministry’s website as going from being a warrior to a king and use a little wrestling image of my Ultimate Warrior’s finishing maneuver. Interesting is one way to view this, I suppose. I think disturbing is a better way of putting it.

It sure seems to me as pure an example of covetousness as you can get. Hell, it’s more evidence than any of you losers who’ve maligned me have EVER provided to PROVE that I ever self-destructed, or live a self-destructive life today. It works for me. Others can judge for themselves your eerie fascination with the concept “warrior” and imagery immediately identifiable with Ultimate Warrior set alongside the context of your envious, hateful comments targeted at me.

I do hope though, Teddy, considering the serious and solemn nature of the religious message you preach, you aren’t being silly enough to believe being a wrestler and performing the feats that come along with the job parallel the physical, mental and spiritual challenges real, fighting warriors (Christian or otherwise) ever faced. You don’t, do you? I hope not. After all, promotion is one thing, vainglorious pride is another — another Deadly Sin.

Let’s get real, Teddy. You certainly never, ever came close to looking or acting like a warrior at any time during your life. On some level, it seems to me and I imagine many others, associating oneself with the concept “warrior” should or would have something to do with self-discipline, meaningful sacrifices, inner strength, digging deep within oneself to be the best one can be, integrity, honor, etc. More especially so in your case, now, since your goal as a man-of-the-cloth is to guide people away from the forces that lure them to be the worst they can be. And to do this you use the Bible’s inspiring stories of warrior-like individuals who practiced these honorable virtues, right?

That’s fine and dandy. But just where and how does the life you have lived connect to this ideal of “warrior”? Because there’s no doubt, whatsoever, you use “warrior” to portray yourself as having lived like a warrior would — in some way, somehow.

In what way?, how?

Your life filled with immoral, unprincipled and sinful behavior isn’t a rumor. It’s no secret. It’s not in doubt. You’ve revealed and confessed it all. Adultery, promiscuity, lying, cheating, alcoholism and taking drugs — you don’t consider these the behaviors of a warrior, do you?

On the physical level alone, let’s be serious, you were an undisciplined, fat tub of shit when you were in the business and you are a more undisciplined, even fatter tub of shit now. For Christsakes, Teddy, you sweat grease. Any man who has cellulite on the back of their thighs — as you did even in your best days in the business — is a fat tub of shit. Period. Isn’t gluttony another one of the Seven Deadly sins? As a man of God, aren’t you at least supposed to try to not be a pig?

I really think this is where you fail the best in being a fraud, a hypocrite — a real snake-oil salesman. In fact, you fail so successfully at gluttony, I think you missed the calling of what would have been your best gimmick. The one that truly fits: Satan’s Pig. You are the embodiment of Satan’s Pig. Your face, body, mind and spirit provide the perfect image of it. Amazing, isn’t it? After all these years of stumbling around to squeeze yourself to a gimmick, you finally come face to face with your best gimmick — the real you.

Let’s be honest, here, Father Teddy. (What irony, having to instruct a man-of-the-cloth to be honest.) It was never guilt that made you change your ways to become a man of God. It was gluttony — and your dark desire to continue getting away with it. You’ve never had the discipline, in your whole life, to restrain your appetites for anything — and you still don’t. All you’ve done is substitute vices and indulgences. When you were in the business and your ego was powered by your gimmick and your fame and celebrity, you were gluttonous for sluts and salacious thoughts and living. When it was all over, the superficiality of celebrity was gone and you had nothing to cling to anymore to cover up your natural repulsiveness. Even the worst whores have standards. Once you were nothing, without the TV and the Million Dollar Man gimmick (which WWF footed the entire bill for), they wanted nothing to do with you anymore. You crawled home on your knees to your wife and God, all seemingly in the desire to be forgiven. But all you’ve truly done is use religion as an excuse and means to continue getting away with other forms of self-indulgent gluttony.

There are pedophiles impersonating priests. And then, Teddy, there is you — a reprobate impersonating a preacher. Little difference. Both scum. Both evil.

Let’s move on before I have to stop and take a shower…

Vince did not consult with you about extending an HOF invitation to me. You attempt to create the impression you had say-so or input. You didn’t. Stop with the self-importance — and quit trying to fool others with it. Vince doesn’t ask or care what your opinion is about anything.

The HOF event is for the fans. They buy the tickets. They have every right to criticize the event if they felt it was not the caliber of Hall of Fame there has been in previous years. Your induction didn’t impress or excite them, and they spoke their minds about it. Get over it. Bashing them only makes you more an ass.

You say the only time I had a great match was when someone was leading me around by the nose.

Once and for all, let’s stop the bullshit and put things in no uncertain terms: without guys like me, Ted Dibiase, you never would have worked a Main Event match in the WWF.

You were so smart about the business, Teddy, you were too stupid to figure out how it really works. Guys like you funded petty cash. Guys like me — and Hogan and Savage at the time — paid the mortgages and the travel bills and the production costs of the whole operation. Your profit making contribution was like hitting three cherries on a nickel slot machine. Mine was like hitting the Powerball Jackpot. I earned my limousine. Yours was provided as part of your silly gimmick. Reality check: my quarterly royalty checks were for more money than you made in a whole year. It was never about who could draw money with a guy like you — it was always about who could draw money with a guy like me. Guys like you were one-of-many. Guys like me were one-of-a-kind.

To hear you tell it, you were a master of leading people around by the nose in the ring. One of those guys who could have a match with a broomstick. That’s you, man. Mr. Magic. I guess Vince was too stupid to see the great matches and big money that would come out of a run between Ultimate Warrior and Million Dollar Man. That’s why we only worked together once, maybe twice. Or maybe it was because you couldn’t find my nose.

It’s interesting, for being such a ring general as you fancy yourself to be, there’s no list of all-time great matches with your name or gimmick on it. Not anywhere. Ultimate Warrior shows up more than once on quite a few. Fifteen minutes after you left the business, thoughts of you ceased to exist. Fifteen years since Ultimate Warrior’s last time in a WWF ring, people can’t quit talking about him. Fans can’t remember a god damn thing about you (unless it’s forced upon them like at the HOF). The Ultimate Warrior — they can never forget.

Only idiots like you buy into your lying anymore. That’s why you can get away with making the outlandish claims that you do — none of the idiots who interview you challenge your statements.

The lies don’t fit with the facts. I worked on three different occasions with Vince, and he tried a fourth time in 1998 to get me to return by sending me a fax in the middle of the night — in the middle of our first litigation — that offered me a contract for more money than he was paying any other talent at the time. (I guess he had not had enough of leading me around by the nose, yet.)

Vince is a pretty intelligent guy. A creative guy. A guy who doesn’t put up with bullshit. Back then, he didn’t need to monkey with talent that had to be lead around by the nose. Back then, talent who couldn’t lead themselves — literally, in all ways — didn’t make it to the top in the WWF. It wasn’t like today, where they babysit a guy from the camps all the way to the championship belt.

When you claim that I had to be lead around by those nose, all you do is disrespect your own abilities, the other veteran talent you admire, and the business you seemingly hold in such high esteem. All you do is make the business overall look like a joke, like anyone, any idiot, without any skills whatsoever, can make it to the top in the business.

Truth is, it was I that lead you all around by the nose. In fact, I might be the best damn worker the business ever had in its whole history. Hell, I should get an induction into the HOF just for this alone. Ultimate Warrior can get his own separate induction, later. I worked circles around the “work” of the business so well, I succeeded at a greater level than anyone of you could even dream of. Not bad for guy who wasn’t born and raised in the business and had only ten hours of training before I set foot in a ring. Instead of being bitter about it, Teddy, you should be embarrassed.

If you have to lie to make yourself feel better about your own failings as a sports entertainer and a man, then I guess that’s what you have to do. I hate to see it. I’m sure it’s not easy to accept the fact, that in your life, you’ve failed in so many ways, most importantly, at being or becoming a man. I almost want to forgive you. But I guess I haven’t gotten far enough along in my Bible reading to develop the compassion it would take. I have gotten far enough along, though, to know that a preacher who compulsively lies is nothing but a fraud and a hypocrite, and might spend a long, long time burning in hell — that is, if you believe in that kind of thing.

Different than you claim, I appreciate plenty of what the business has done for me. I appreciate the opportunity Vince and his organization gave me and I’m on the record many times over the years saying so. Even when criticizing Vince’s vindictive attempt to rewrite history and defame both my personal and professional reputation, even while fighting for years through the legal system at huge financial and emotional expense, I have never withheld expressing my appreciation for certain things about my time with WWF. When you view the whole picture of what transpired between Vince and I, it is obvious that it is Vince who has refused to put appreciation in its proper perspective.

My success in the WWF was a two-way street. It is for everyone who works in the WWE today. Vince provided his contribution, yes. It was incredibly valuable. But so was mine. To say my one-of-a-kind contribution was not of at least equal value is going way too far. Yes, Vince certainly deserves credit, but I am certainly due mine — as is any other talent that works for him. Vince shouldered a heavy burden to build up his business, and that all by itself is something to admire and be inspired by. But the busted ass and backs of the talent built the foundation of that company. Without the talent the company would not exist.

The size of Vince’s business dreams and his labors, alone, did not make the company the success it is today. Vince has a tendency to forget that, and anybody who has ever worked for him knows he spends a lot of effort trying to make the world believe otherwise. The Self-Destruction DVD was his greatest attempt to force this skewed view of himself and his power down the throats of the people — the fans he claims to care so much about — who have subsidized all the wealth he possesses today.

In the DVD, talent do not parse their words. Almost all of you to a person imply that I owe Vince for everything that I have in my life and everything I am. To put it mildly — that’s fucking outrageous. I had a life filled with the pursuit of goals long before I ever met Vince McMahon. And when I worked for him, in the simplest of terms, we had a basic “goods and services for compensation” contractual agreement between us.

Nowhere in any of my contracts is there anything about either of us forever owing one another anything beyond the terms of the agreement. There is nothing in any contract I ever had with Vince that says I must continue to work there when mistreated or believe the terms of my contract were violated, or must always hold a positive opinion about their programming, or have to agree to be in the HOF simply because I worked there, or owe him or his company my loyalty forever.

I’ve never heard you say you owe all your life success to Vince — have you? Your good, old-school buddies — have they? Do they say, “I wouldn’t be anything or anywhere in my life if not for Vince and what he did for me.” No. None of them. You don’t, either. In fact, whenever any of you old-timers, and the new guys over the recent years, leave and go work somewhere else you all immediately trash Vince and his company, like they contributed nothing at all to who you are and where you are in your wrestling career, let alone your overall life.

Look at your hero, Hogan — whom you would never criticize for fear you may have to depend on him to feel pity for you one day and find you a measly payday down the road. Whenever he’s not cashing Vince’s checks, he claims he taught Vince everything he knows about the business and pisses all over the man like he contributed absolutely nothing to bring the business to where it is today.

And yet, when you all have crawled back, as every single one of you eventually do, you speak about Vince as if he is the almighty God whom you would not exist without. This is what you are doing today — for your sons. It will be interesting to see what hell-fire condemnations for Vince and WWE flow from your tongue when the mediocre careers of your charisma-less sons come to an end and they get discarded like soiled toilet paper.

Isn’t it another one of your beliefs that you will worship no false Gods? You do. How come you get to do so whenever you feel like it? Pray tell, enlighten us. You do because you are a hypocrite Christian without the true faith and strength that it takes not to. Repeatedly, you’ve sold your soul to false Gods just to make your sad, phony life work here on Earth. What a coward you are.

At your own damn website you have links to articles talking smack about WWE’s product, that it is inappropriate and crude and vulgar, that you can’t condone it or would not let your own kids watch it. Yes, these articles are dated some years back. But you know what? It was all a sham. The timelines tell the real truth. At the same time you were talking trash about WWE, to draw favor for your newfound pursuit of ministry, you were actually grooming your own sons to join the ranks right along with all the sinners. Not everybody has a price, Teddy. But you do — and it is cheap.

You’re hypocrisy is despicable. You should be ashamed, but this Biblical virtue is not one you want anybody to bring up while you’re sons are cashing in and you are busy passing your own sanctimonious judgments. It’s amazing. In my whole 50 years of life on this planet, I have never — NEVER — met a born-again Christian who was not a blatant hypocrite. If there is a heaven and it is going to be filled with the likes of you, I want to confirm my reservation in hell, right now. Eternal hardcore pain would be less brutal than spending eternity with spineless, back-stabbing, sissy suck-ups like you.

On a deeper level, a level you don’t have the mental or spiritual capacity to understand, I actually appreciate what was done for me in the business more than any of you who worked there at the same time I did. I paid serious attention to my experiences while I was there. I learned about more than achieving success in the sports entertainment business. I learned larger life lessons that have helped me succeed in my life beyond my time in the business.

I learned that hard work, self-discipline, sacrifice, creativity and belief in yourself pays. I learned that if you will give what it takes to not be denied, you won’t be denied. And by the time I succeeded in the business, this lesson was so deeply affirmed and ingrained within me I never lost sight of its power ever again. These are the virtues that make life work — no matter what challenges you face, no matter what goals or dreams you pursue. And when working in the business was no longer an option for me, I put them to work in the pursuit of other goals.

Sadly, most of you expected success in the business should be based on who you knew, who you blew, how much ass you kissed, and how well you acted two-faced and stabbed others in the back. When it didn’t work that way, you got angry, whined and complained. But little good that did, when the only audience you voiced your grievances to where the other do-nothing-about-it talent in the same predicament. More unfortunately, your focus on entitlement stifled your ability to learn the greater, empowering lessons your career in the WWF could teach you.

You used the incredible opportunity of your success to become weaker. I used my opportunity to become stronger. You developed lazy, destructive, mindless habits. I developed greater hunger. When you were drowning your payoff sorrows in booze and swapping spit with filthy whores, I was in the gym at 2 and 3 in the morning, kicking my ass and improving my body to make my gimmick even better. When you were passed out, I was making notes in my journal, writing down ideas to discuss with Vince and make my gimmick the best it could be. When you were hung over and dragging ass in the morning after a night of debauchery, I woke up inspired by the challenge to kick the ass of another day even after only 2-3 hours of sleep and another lousy can of tuna.

You grew lazier, softer, less confident, and less creative during your run. I grew bolder, harder, more brazen, more imaginative. You let the business beat you down. I used the hard work, challenges, struggles, and obstacles to empower myself.

I saw the business for what it was. I succeeded on the terms it offered at the time. I kept its history and reputation of how it treated talent at the forefront of my mind at all times, and I prepared for the day I might have to make my life work without it. When it came, I was ready. It’s not my fault you weren’t.

Truth is, Vince let us all know upfront that he would try to get every single bit of juice out of you, the talent, personally and professionally. It’s the nature of the business and the writing is on all the walls, the whole time. Vince makes it clear from the start, he’s going to get it all, every single drop — even if he has to fuck you to do it.

All along the way, up the mountain to the top, at its peak and when the downside of the mountain lies in full view, Vince shows you the signs of what will come down the road. And there were the stories proving it. Guys like you, Teddy, who had been in the business for years, grew up around the business, had fathers, mothers, and uncles or brothers in the business, spent practically all your time talking about it. You exchanged story after story, telling about the unfairness of it all and how it had happened to so many others. The road agents never shut up about it.

From the moment a young guy gets in the business, in the locker rooms and traveling up and down the road, he hears horror stories about how guys get screwed more than he hears anything else, and how unexpected and undeserved it all was. It’s common locker room knowledge — if you let it, the business will suck you in, chew your guts up and spit you out, not dead, barely alive. (So much for the “not dead” thing anymore.) Every talent that’s ever been in the business knows Ripley’s Believe It or Not was not the first promotion exploiting tragedy and freaks. A wrestling promoter and his wrestling card was.

You and your buddies, Teddy, bragged about how it wasn’t going to happen to you. You convinced yourself to not believe it. It was all a big party for you and it was never going to end. You and your undisciplined buddies were too busy enjoying the cheap whores, the cheap thrills, and cheap ideas to pay attention. Nothing mattered as much as having all the silly, superficial stuff that would one day be worthless. Down the road wasn’t here yet — it was never going to arrive. The future didn’t concern you — hanging out in the bars that night did. Superstardom was yours forever — the groupies promised you so. You would never have to live without the business because you believed the business could never live without you.

You, not Vince, were going to write the script of your career’s final chapter. No sir, no one was ever going to bring you to your knees. But when the time came, you and your equally experienced colleagues dropped quicker than a toothless, junkie prostitute.

Sure enough, when the day came, you weren’t prepared. I was. When the lights went down, you stood in the dark whimpering. I saw the light at the end of another tunnel, turned, and in one step and one deep breath, began another chapter of my life. You didn’t know how to live without the business. I did. You needed the business to have self-worth. I didn’t. You didn’t believe you could achieve success at anything else. I never doubted it. You were not only afraid to fail, you were afraid to even try. I wasn’t. No matter how the business would treat you — you would stay and put up with it. There was no position you would not assume. There was no shit you would not eat. Not me, brutha. I was out of there. I wasn’t bred to be one of you. For that, and nothing else, you want to crucify me.

Out of fear of growing into a greater, better man, moving on in your life and going it alone, doing the work, engaging the self-belief and self-discipline to make your life work at something different than pro-wrestling, you allowed the business to own you — body, mind and soul. Not to prosper, just to survive. Your character as one of the boys was more important to you than your character as a man.

And so it has gone on. Over the years, you’ve continued to compromise and weaken your integrity to a degree, Teddy, that it no longer even has a pulse. You know it — and you know everyone else knows it, too. And no male — not one single male on this whole god damn planet — can compromise his integrity without surrendering his manhood.

Look in the mirror, Teddy. You’re a V-man. A Vagina Man. You and Hogan and Flair and Piper and Hart and all the others — V-Men. Behind the gimmicks you were all studs, real tough guys. But without them and the lights and production and business and the angles and the money and all the smack talk to back you up, you never possessed the BIG Balls it takes to step into the ring with The Main Event of Life.

I did. I still do.

I’m going to leave it at this, for now. I’ll come back in Part II and answer your question about who I think I am.

You’ll make the time to read it, I’m sure.

Your Founding Father of Life Intensity,

Always Believe,

Warrior