ORIGINAL DISCUSSION HERE

You know, the Rock was just out on the town, having a walk around, out meeting and greeting the people, the Rock's people. The Millions... and millions of the Rock's fans, and he overheard some jabroni crying in the street. "Whaaaaa, why is my life so hard? Whaaaaa why do my competitions suck? Whaaaaa? What can I do to make people like me?" Sounds like you need the Whaaambulance jabroni. Usually, the Rock would have just ignored you and carried on talking to his fans, but for some reason, the Rock decided to approach you in confidence, in private, and have a little heart to heart, see if perhaps the Rock could make things better. But this wasn't good enough for you, the Rock had reached out the hand of not friendship but of bygones. The Rock was prepared to help you out, help you pick yourself up and get back in the game. The Rock was ready to do all that for you jabroni, but you slapped the Rock's hand away, you thought you knew the Rock, that you knew the Great One, that the Great one had an axe to grind because you shot his daddy. Let the Rock tell you something Zevev... zypher... zipcode... what in the blue hell is your name anyway jabroni?

COMMISSARZVEREV: Its pronounced Zev...

It doesn't matter what you name is jabroni. The Simple fact of the matter is this, the Rock's daddy was a wiseguy and that's all he was going to be, picking up cigarettes from the gutter to smoke. Within 24 hours the Rock was already more than his old Man would ever be. Within 24 hours the Rock had been awarded so much compensation because you gone done fucked up that he could retire and never work another day in his life. But you see the Rock has a motto, 'Blood, Sweat, Respect - The first two you give, the last you earn.' You should remember that jabroni, perhaps you would benefit from it. 

So let the Rock lay it all on the line for you. Let the most Electrifying man in all of MR show you why you suck. There are two types of people in this world, the ones who like your money, and the ones who think you suck. That's it. The one's you think like you, the one's you think are your friends, they like your money, the rest couldn't care less if God himself came down from up on high, gave you a big fat Cuban cigar, lit that cigar, then slapped the taste of that big fat Cuban right out of your mouth. You think you are hated, that people are out to kill you, well let the Rock set the record straight jabroni, nobody gives a monkey's ass about you. You are street entertainment, like that guy over there spinning plates, or that guy over there pulling hankies out of his pockets or Destro's mom over there turning tricks.

Why is the blue hell do you have to pay people to judge your competitions? You say that your friends and enemies can't judge because you need someone impartial, yet you are paying some 10lbs of monkey crap in a 5lb bag $6 million dollars to read a story? Something tells the Rock that those people don't care about your competition, don't care about you, and only care about the money you are lining their pockets with. So lets look at your competitions and see if we can work out where you are going wrong. 

Competition 1: $40 million prize, won by Destro the Monkey's nipple for quite possibly the worst story the Rock has ever read in his entire life. There were half a dozen entries better than it. You changed the rules to suit your friend, you ripped the shit out of half the entries, and then you gave the prize money to your friend. Net result, people decided your competitions were rigged.
 

Competition 2: $28 million Prize, won by tiggy the man, your 'friend' and current CL. Now the Rock read tiggy's submission, and it was some surreal now age crap. It wasn't the worst submission, but it certainly wasn't the best, but because your 'friend' had unlocked some mystery code... apparently, she/he won the prize. Net result, people received apparent confirmation that your competitions were rigged.

Round about this time, it had come out that you had entered your own competition anonymously, paying some shill to regurgitate your monkey crap, so that you could win your own prize, and then when it all came to light, you had him killed for being a snitch. This confirmed to even the blind, deaf and dumb that something stank about your competitions, and not just the judges.

Competition 3: $10 million prize for taking the piss out of the man who spilled the beans. Won by your 'friend 'tiggy' again for something almost as badly written as Destro's winning disaster-piece. There was more duplicity and underhandedness, last minute judges and time extensions. Net result, people living under ground, on other planets and in the long lost land of Rocklantis now suspect that your competitions are about as honest as an election in a West African Dictatorship.

Competiton 4: $18 million prize, won by no one because of a bad outbreak of OCCitis that saw the whole thing swept onto another street. The Whaaambulance didn't arrive in time, and despite several offers of assistance to get it back on track, you through your toys out of the pram and cancelled it. People lost interest. Judges were compensated, a hasty winner was selected to try and save you face, a derisory $150k was offered, it wasn't paid, legal disputes were brought and everyone thought you were a monkey's ass. At this point the only people still entering your competitions were the people after your money.

Competiton 5: $20 million prize, won by 3 people who won $10 million each, with a runner's up prize for the Rock's daddy. 4 entrants, 4 prizes... Nobody wants that jabroni, as much of a chump that Coco the Clown is, he is right when he says that no one, and the Rock means no one wants that. People switch off, no one cares any more. 

Competiton 6: $14 million prize, won by BelleCorisca. Now her post was not to the Rock's taste, but it was certainly original. It didn't really meet to entry requirements in the Rock's opinion, but the none judge and Monkey's nipple, Destro, cast his vote, and then promptly died, leaving you to declare Belle the winner, despite having received no official votes. Nothing, anyone who was anyone gave up caring or entering back when the dinosaurs ruled the earth. 

Ad Hoc competition: $1 million to anyone who ignored the competition run by Detroit and instead enter yours instead. You alienated people who actually thought that you might have a modicum of decency by shitting all over a writing competition hosted by another city. You were that scared of the possibility that someone else might host a well run competition that you went out of your way to try and sink it, and cast dispersion on the hosts.

Competition 7: Prize unknown, winner, none yet, despite the closing date, extended closing date, and yet another closing date passing. You have one legitimate entry, one entry by yourself, entered under the name of your ancestor, a lot of begging by you for Narasimhaya to enter, and finally, wanting so much for you to know your damn role and shut your mouth, Narasimhaya cobbled together anything he could.

And that brings us up to date. Still with me jabroni, The Rock knows you have problems sticking with conversations that last longer than 2 minutes? So where does that leave us? Well since the beginning of time, there's been some questions that have remained unanswered. Why are we here? Are we alone in this universe? And the most asked question of all time is how can one man, CommissarZverev, be such a bonafide horse's ass? Every single issue you are having is an issue of your own devising. People, the Rock's people have lost interest in your competitions, and the only people who remain are the vultures, ready to peck the last dollars from your bloated, fat Cuban smoking ass.