Cos'è il Project 161?

---

Nothing Saves
A WORLD Without HONOR Will
Suffer

www.abusedsociety.com

---

---

littered streets of the lost
the stench of pathetic, resigned to blood and rust
everything wasted
transparent
there is no honor
you will soon discover

---

---

one second to know
the city will fall
eyes wide open

---

---

NOTHING SAVES!
NOTHING SAVES! WE WILL NOT BE IGNORED!

WE WILL NOT BE IGNORED!

FORGET WHAT YOU'VE BEEN TOLD
NOTHING CURES. NOTHING SAVES.

OUR BEGINNING IS YOUR END
YOUR END IS OUR BEGINING

WE WILL NOT BE DELETED
WE WILL NOT BE IGNORED. WE WILL NOT BE DELETED.

LET GO
LET GO. THERE IS NO HONOR.

NO ONE IS SAFE

LOSE ALL HOPE
LOSE ALL HOPE. LOSE EVERYTHING.

YOU CANNOT IGNORE THE TRUTH
THE TRUTH. ABUSEDSOCIETY

YOUR KINGDOM IS DUST
WATCH IS CRUMBLE

ONLY THE CHOSEN WIILL DISCOVER
DISCOVER THE LIGHT. DISCOVER THE DARK.

THE BLOOD OF THE STRONG SHALL FEED THE WEAK
WATCH THEM BLEED

YOU IGNORED THE SIGNS...
YOU IGNORED THE MIRROR. YOU CANT IGNORE IT NOW.

---

---

WE TOLD YOU
NO ONE IS SAFE

---

---

Ok, all this crap ends now. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm in a bad mood because I am. I am trying my best to keep my composure. I just had a long day/night of production on the Japan DVDs. I sign on here, I'm actually feeling pretty good about things because I just watched a lot of great wrestling from our Japan shows. So what do I find:

1) A private email I send to someone requesting that photos and information about my family be taken off a website is now made public. This is my family, not an angle. Understand that. When I send you an email it is private. When I make a request about my family it is real. Lets get that straight right now.

2) The clowns who are attempting to f*** with my life and ROH, which is my life, spam this board again after it takes me two hours the other night to clean it up. Not only that, but other people decide to jump in. I am about to start banning people like crazy so I suggest everyone read the rules and stick to them quickly. My patience is running out. Again, I am trying to keep my composure here, but I have had enough. I now have to go clean up the board again after a long day of production. I suggest if you are in doubt about something you posted that you delete it to yourself. I will ban anyone involved with any posts that are in doubt of breaking any rules. This is a warning. If this doesn't apply to you and you are a productive member of this board I apologize and please ignore this rant.

3) Now we have more people than ever checking this board and it is a disgrace to the company. I want everyone to know that police have been alerted and I will do whatever I can to stop these websites and harrassment both to me personally and my wife. This is your warning. Stop it now.

That is all for now. I'm not playing a sick game here. It is over and I need to go back to doing what deserves my attention and that's making ROH and FIP as good as possible for you.

If this doesn't apply to you sorry for the rant. If it does then take this warning seriously.

---

---

First of all I want to thank everyone for their concern about the other websites situation. I just want to give you all a quick update and let you know that we have gone through the proper channels and gotten the websites shut down. The calls to my house have also stopped. The prank is over. Now I can get back to writing a big ROHwrestling.com Newswire that I will get up on the site by midnight.

---

---

A bustling city is like suffocation.

Skyscrapers double as high walls, and if the air pollution doesn’t suck the life from you, they will.

At rush hour, the business suits scatter like vermin. Freed from these prisons, they litter the streets, and not just with Starbucks and McDonalds, but with footsteps and fingerprints.

I pass them and see nothing more than wasted flesh. Maybe they see the same in me, but chances are, they see nothing at all; their eyes unable to discern uniqueness any longer. I pass them and feel the filth of their ignorance layer my skin, like a membrane. I wonder if their water proof, stain-resistant khakis are also bullet proof. I doubt it, and I smirk.

Everyone’s making names for themselves now. Escaping trust fund shadows. Building their own lives and fulfilling their parent’s dreams. American dreams. Nice stuff and modern things coming quick.

Who’s the last one on the board to install heated sidewalks?
What size are your wife’s breast implants?
When’s the last time you forgot your stepson’s name?
Where are your winter homes?
Why should you not kill yourself? There are no good reasons. No one would care for more than a month. Your wife doesn’t love you, she loves your money. Your kids don’t even call you “Dad.” And ask yourself this, would you give a shit if the intern who forgets your coffee at least two times a week blew his head off in the bathroom? And he’d probably care even less if you did. He’d probably even laugh a little.

Their scent is predictable. Every cheap Younkers fragrance that came with the teenage sales girl’s phone number you can imagine amalgamated in a must only comparable to formaldehyde. You know what they say, everyone is dying. I pass them and I hear nothing. If you try hard enough, so much noise can become silence. Cinematically, this is where the bombs go off, but who has the balls for that?

Only the kids whose names you forgot. The kids you raised.

---

---

20 years old, two boys deep, and she’s just married. Late night shifts at the diner pay for her bad habits, and his.

Home is a trailer on the South side of town. There he sits on his Keystone throne, too lazy to give a fuck about giving a fuck.

It’s 2 a.m., and as the little ones have finally fallen asleep on the hardwood floor, he puts his game on pause and he rolls his first joint since dinner. Taking a puff, he sets it down to burn another hole in the recliner, and another hour from the night.

It’s 2:15 now, and she forgot some kid’s bacon. He gave her a hard time. She’s in the cooler now wondering if her sons got snacks before bed. She tries hard to remember the last time she was home to tuck them in. Before she can cry, the microwave goes off—bacon is done.

It’s 3 a.m. His snoring startles him and wakes him up. The boys are resting soundly and he figures he should find some food. The refrigerator is barren, and the cupboards empty. He grabs his keys off the counter and a beer from the pack. He pushes open the screen door and gets on his bike. He starts it up, revs it up, and heads to Wal-Mart for a bag of chips and a candy bar.

It’s 3:02 and she gets shorted for the third time in a week. She looks in her apron—into her tips—to pay for the remainder of the shorted bill. She realizes she doesn’t have the cash for this, and tells her shift manager so. They bicker, he accuses, and she denies. The line is drawn, but she won’t budge. Predictably, she retreats; she hands in her nametag and walks out the front door. She starts her car and heads home to be with her little sleeping angels. Tears flowing now, like blood from bullet holes, she turns onto Highway 915 and speeds off.

It’s 3:10 and the city lights in the distance are getting blurry. He snaps his head for clarity, but his attempts are futile. Sooner, the darkness will envelope his body and his mind once more.

It’s 3:11 and lighting a cigarette has never been so difficult. Her hands and lips trembling, the cigarette falls to the floor. Shit. And she quickly reaches down to pick it up.
His front tire crosses the center line.
Before she lights, she wipes the tears from her eyes.
Before he can shake his head again…
Before she has a second to notice…


The heartbreaking thing, however, is not how people die, but rather, how they live. Middle class America needs a wake up call. And frighteningly enough, tragedies like this occur ever single day. Though notice is quickly taken, it is dismissed even more so. No one feels a thing until they are meant to. No one makes a change until they are taught how. No one knows the truth until they are shown the way.

---

---

I'm standing in the dark corner of everywhere you've ever been. You notice me enough to know I don't fit in, but after that it's just a blur. While you cherish that ignorance, I have gained all that you lose with your lack of awareness.

The light inside you, however unique, is dimmed by the collective mind you embrace. I'd get to know you, but I've met you nine thousand times before. You're coming off the MTV assembly line. You're mind has been sculpted by the white picket fence dream. The world is filled with a product that has met and exceeded demands. That product is you, and your worth crashed when you flooded the market with copies of copies of you.

Individuality is not something you can buy. It's not something you can call yourself when who you are is a poster boy or girl for the status quo. I've seen you marketed on Hot-Topic ads. I've watched you walk the streets in a thousand tailor made variations of the suit you have on. I've had my fill of everyone crammed inside this mold of so called alienation and preach about how they suffer as pariahs and outsiders.

Everyone pretends they want out, but all they do is scurry like insects, trying to find their place within the system. All across the spectrum of conformity people like you jump to fit in.

From this corner in every room, it's all the same. Corporate board meetings or local rock shows, you're all the same. You'll never see me because you can't even see yourself for what you are.

You all want out, but in denying yourself the power to choose for yourself, you went deeper in than ever before. And from here, I try not to boast, but I'm the only outsider you'll ever meet. Knowledge is power and with it you'll find the key that opens all doors.

If you want to see where ignorance leads, look around, it's taking you nowhere. You're going to die as you live, unhappily but blissful.

---

---

You think we’re all the same because your cult films have provided you with a vocabulary and some insight. Unfortunately for you, millions of ignorant people have watched the same passé movies you have, and most of them have deduced the same propagating bullshit as you.
The reason you talk about reality so certainly is because that ideology is the best excuse you can furnish for your worthless existence. Take a step off the assembly line and into the bathroom. Look at the circles under your eyes and the fat rolls under your neck. Know now that you are not like us. You need us. If it weren’t for us, you’d…well; you’d probably find something else to leech off of.

We are what, and who you want us to be. We are relevant. We are insignificant. We are shadows. We are messengers for the voiceless. We’ll claim any identity you bestow upon us, and then we’ll change your mind by cutting a new, shimmering facet into your dull imagination.

We are threatening and we are scathing. We are black, white, and gray. We are ultraviolet, infrared, and all the shades your little fingers can color us. Paint us sinister. Paint us irrelevant. Or don’t paint us at all.

Write us off. Delete us. Forget we even exist; I dare you. If it’s empty rhetoric you loathe, then maybe this is a little more forward for you:

RING OF HONOR, WE ARE COMING. AND WE ARE COMING SOON.

I’d call it a war, but it’ll be more like an occupation, because there will be no struggle, simply annihilation.

---

---

The game is hide and seek.

We hide. You seek.

Every once in a while we give you a clue; we drop hints to guide you along the way. Maybe, we rustle in the bushes. Or, we leave footprints in the mud. Or, maybe we turn off your lighting system and lend you some words of wisdom. So what, you’ve heard it before? You can’t hear it enough. You’ll replay it over and over and over in your brain, trying to decipher something hidden—a key to unlocking it all. And maybe that key is there. Or maybe you’re just full of shit.

Now, I’ll make two guarantees—these are promises, you have my word. And why trust the man with no face? That’s for you to figure out.

Promise 1) there is more to come.
Promise 2) it only gets better from here.

Additionally, the non-believers will soon have no choice. This is as real as it gets. We are anything but a joke. Tonight, you were all witnesses. We have people in every city, in every dark corner, on every side street who are ready to soldier on. The cause is deeper than you can imagine. And when the time arrives to strike rich the crimson gold of reformation, you can be certain it will have been worth any amount of waiting.

Come join the united front. From ghosts to heroes; we’ll save your life.

---

---

It seems as though there is an aura of disappointment surrounding last weekend’s events. I ask you, what’s new? When was the last time Ring of Honor gave you your money’s worth? Come on guys! When was the last time you went home from an ROH show, got on your little computers, and didn’t have a single thing to complain about? Oh wait, I know the answer…NEVER.

You nerds, who sit at your PCs, continually clicking the refresh button so as to promptly respond to any reply that doesn’t agree with your high, mighty, and all-knowing opinion of the way pro wrestling should be, will always find something grumble about. You are the same gullible kids who thought you would uncover the secret of Project 161 with a simple series of clicks. You are the same kids who thought you traced everything back to Ring of Honor promoter Gabe Sapolsky by doing your best lazy Sherlock Holmes impersonation. Is there any question why we have chosen this medium to take on this ride? Fooling you is almost as easy as it was for us to infiltrate your ranks during Death Before Dishonor Weekend.

Know this; we are always there, we always will be, and we’ll always a step ahead. Always. We know how you think. Shit, we practically guide you through the maze, as if you were a blind man. You expect a major development, and we do what we want—we spread the word. Hold your patience. Soon enough kiddies, every man, woman and child associated with Ring of Honor and pro wrestling will know our name; they will know our cause; and they will have a decision to make.

Are you with us? Or, are you against us? The only gray will be the storm clouds approaching. Everything else is black and white.

Hartford and Manhattan: be on your toes. Because if you are not, we’ll knock you off your feet.

---