TJ Perkins

We all need each other, my brothers.  Not one of us can do the good work before us alone.  And tonight I'm on my knees to thank the gods of wrestling kink for my brother in this struggle, John Savage of the always splendid Rants Roids n Rasslin, because I'm telling you Brother John has gone and changed my life.  How else would I have come across the man who is steaming my blood this very second ... TJ Perkins, 25, 5'10", 172# ... were it not for RRnR's latest posting about Pro Wrestling Fusion in which he introduced me to the new and improved Perkins and his August 2009 brush-up against PWF champion Chris Jones (no slouch in the hotness department either).

TJ Perkins.  I could write an ode on that man's back alone.  I could toss out a couple dozen sonnets easily on just the man's suntan.  And have I ever told you all how weak in the knees it makes me when a wrestler chews gum while he's fighting?  Don't get me started.  Perkins has the face of a skate-punk demigod and the torso of a Bob Mizer wet dream.  Now please, somebody, get that man out of those baggy britches and into some tight velvet briefs.  I need to see those thighs (say amen, somebody), I need to see that butt curving outwards like cumulus clouds, I need to see the man's iliac furrow descending through his elastic waistband.   Oh, sweet Jesus, take me now because I've seen heaven in the way Perkins looks to his left and then looks to his right before he pile-drives Jones to the mat.

Sure, I'd seen "Pinoy Boy" in his earlier incarnations, and frankly I was not impressed.  But seeing him now, at 25, in the full flower of manhood, I see what a miracle a gym membership, the right haircut, and ten years' ring experience can work.  It's a match like this one--against a fine and crafty competitor like Chris Jones--that we see how timing is everything, how all that is spectacular in a man can wait until just the right moment to shine through, how a journeyman wrestler with a decade working on the mats can suddenly become glorified in one spectacular card.

Thank you, John Savage.  Thank you, TJ Perkins.  Thank you, gods of wrestling kink, for giving me this shining moment of my life.


  1. Best sermon o' the day, my man. I was hearing the Wurlitzer heat up behind your boomin voice. Bless you. Bless TJ. Bless us all.

  2. Thanks, David. I grew up in fundamentalist churches and went to Christian schools. All that's long behind me now, I'm a free-wheeling atheist now, but the old-time religion flares out from time to time still. Praaaaise his holy name!


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