Secrets. White lies. Sometimes it’s all we have or at least what we perceive to have that’ll hold ourselves or the world around us together. In some instances, they may even hold the key to a brighter future. One of victory. One of peace. One of hope. And for Flight Officer, Maude Garrett, nothing could be further from the truth as she sits trapped in a gunner’s hatch suspended beneath the belly of a Boeing-B7 Bomber, while her top secret package lies somewhere up above in the heart of the vessel amongst a crew of misfit soldiers that (with both good and bad reason) do not trust her. But just as she spins her tales and pleads with the crew, professing the legitimacy and importance of her person, her secrets, and her mission, so too does she with the audience, who watch and listen with bated breath. But as both characters and audience follow the wild escalation of her adventure, the question beckons to be asked, are the revelations made along the way and the means by which they come abo...
Within a vast sea of eclectic personalities, all strange, deranged, and nostalgic in their own right, it’s truly a wonder that one manages to easily stand head and shoulders above all the rest, both in and out of the ring. And I’m not talking about The Rock, The Hulkster, or even The Unseeable Cena. No. Because even with all their charisma combined, I can surely say that their legacy does not hold a candle to the most revered, beloved, and reviled personality of them all, the infamous head honcho that everyone loves to hate, Vincent Kennedy McMahon. Yes. Always walking ten feet tall and with every inch of the Biggest-D-Swagger the world has ever known, Mr. McMahon single handedly birthed, grew, and perfected the multibillion dollar WWE empire that many know and love today, producing unforgettable stories, legendary bouts, and larger than life superstars that rival (perhaps even best) the ancient myths of old world gods and monsters. Or so the rum...