>You wanna talk about hypocrisy? Let’s talk about Hangman Adam Page. Mr. ‘Workers’ Rights.’ Mr. Cowboy Socialism. You’re a fraud, Hangman. You’re not a worker, you’re not a cowboy. You’re a fuckin’ trust fund baby whose daddy made millions poisoning people with tobacco. You grew up wiping your ass with hundred-dollar bills, and now you come out here in boots and fringe like you’ve been out digging ditches with the common man. Spare me the cosplay bullshit. You’re about as working-class as Vince McMahon.
>You didn’t say a goddamn word when the real workers, the guys and girls hauling steel, hanging lights, busting their backs just so you can play cowboy on live TV, said they were being underpaid. Not one fucking word. Because you don’t actually give a fuck. You just like the aesthetic of caring, the image of it. You’re a poster boy for phony activism. You’re the son of a rich asshole pretending to be the people’s champ, and it makes me fucking sick.
>Tony, pay your people. You’ve got millions to lose football games, millions for every ex-WWE stiff that couldn’t draw a dime, but the backbone of this show, the crew that makes this whole circus run? They’re left begging for scraps?
>This is what AEW really is. Not a revolution, not ‘for the boys,’ not ‘for the workers.’ It’s a vanity project run by a billionaire’s failson, populated by guys like Hangman Page cosplaying as labor heroes while actual labor gets spit on. And everybody else in the back is too busy kissing Tony’s ass to say it out loud. But I’ll say it. I’ve always said it. I am the voice of the voiceless. And if that makes me the villain? Good. Because at least I’m not some fake-ass cowboy in daddy’s shadow, collecting a paycheck while the real working class gets fucked.
