Monday, October 29, 2007

Where in the World is World Wrestling Entertainment?

Where in the World is Umaga?





This is more Bloggery than B

The Horror

Attention children and adults--I have several creepy tales for you. They are stories of darkness and gloom. Gather the princesses, fairies, little cowboys, and borderline Indians around. As the rest of the planet knocks on the doors of strangers for raisin boxes and mint floss, why not spend Halloween with The Swerved, the 5th halloweeniest wrestling blog ever to be forced upon the internet? Grab that extra pair of underwear for you will soil the one you already have on your mid-region. Pop that corn that you pop and sit back. I will place a flashlight under my face. I will turn the flashlight on. The illuminated portions of my facial features are frightful. Cower in fear at my cheekbones. They are higher than you initially suspected.

Professional wrestling is a scary business. Every personality and wrestler has a tan that glows jack-o-lantern orange. The shiny metallic tights of United States, Intercontentinal, and Out-of-Statetinental champions send unknowing audiences into freaky convulsions. Look up to the rafters and you will witness the pyrotechnic light show of death that hovers over our arenas. Look to the stage and you will see ghoulish men with face paint crawl down the aisle to the ominous hum of the devil's song. He's coming to get you. He is not joking. Good Ol' JR is cuckoo. Jim Ross is the haunter of your dreams and the creator of your nightmares.

Throughout my television watching career, I have seen horrors in the ring, the kind that the common man cannot even imagine. Though, do not feel sorry for me. I may be scarred for eternity but I live to see the days. Let me relay my experiences to you, the reader. May you use this information to ward off the the crazies and weirdos who run rampant throughout life.

Vince McMahon and His Ass (and His Ass)

One buttock can be a trick or a treat, depending on the quality of the buttock and the gender of its owner. In my opinion, human existence improves with every display of the attractive female form. If modern rap videos would show sexified girls with only one buttock exposed, the war would be over by now. Although, the display of a male buttock is offensive. How can we, as a distinguished society, allow exhibition of a half-naked guy? How can women, who are in no way obsessed with Oprah and shoes, gain arousal from this sight? The horror of one buttock is painful. The horror of Vince McMahon's twin powers activate vomit from my mouth and brownies and lemonade from my Hershey and Country Time factories.

As of late, Vince McMahon has stopped showing his backside. His unwillingness to do so fills me with equal parts joy and fright. When and where is Vince McMahon's Kiss My Ass Club going to strike next? I'm living in fear, people. I've boarded up my windows with wood; I have put ten deadbolts on my door. Call me insane if you wish, but when you least expect it, Vince McMahon is going to drop his Dockers, and you will be met with a face full of pasty gleam. Just look at the ass' path of terror. William Regal has blurred vision in one eye now. Shawn Michaels has to wear chaps. Are you the hunted? Am I? I don't want to stick around to find out.

D-Generation X Shoving Opponents' Faces into Asses

Shawn Michaels and Triple H loved to shove the mugs of Kenny, Johnny, Mitch, Nicky, and Mikey up their DX-ian posteriors. They also enjoyed placing opponents, such as Vince McMahon, into the butts of others, such as The Big Show. Little people got into the fun too as the midget version of The Spirit Squad mooned it up for the viewers at home. What's with WWE wrestlers and their fascination with butts? Apparently, butts are hilarious, scary, and in need of pie in the world of Stamford. I am afraid. I am so cold. I am very afraid and very cold. It's as if I've been forced to watch Georgia Rule in a meat locker.

Please, WWE. I know your favourite sleeping garment is that pair of pajamas with the trap door opening on the fanny, but keep it to yourselves. No ifs, ands, or asses.

Mae Young's Prosthetic Breasticle Display at the 2000 Royal Rumble

Brian Kendrick also known as Spanky is wrong. Sliced Bread #2 is a not a twisty-flippy-interverted-turnbuckle-assisted-DDT maneuver. In actuality, the greatest thing since sliced bread is the female bosom. Invented in 1977 by Zachariah Bosom, the lady boob is a moon landing, a cure to a deadly disease, and a microwavable breakfast food in one. At its peak, mammaries provide food and shelter for the needy. Sometimes they will provide water but you can't will it to make water. Like a watched pot that does not boil, a watched breast does not irrigate the village soil in time for the harvest. Though, these fleshy sandbags can bring forth an apocalypse of Calypsonian proportions too.

Let us turn back the hands of time to the month of January in the year of 2001. The then-World Wrestling Federation held their annual Royal Rumble from Madison Square Garden in the York that is new. Mae Young was one of seven or so entrants in the Miss Rumble 2000 swimsuit contest. Other participants included Jacqueline, a woman who once had numerous classic matches with Disco Inferno, and emergency medical technician Barbara Bush (B.B. for short), a lass with double-d hearts of gold. When Mae Young undressed, she undressed more than she should have. The crowd groaned with disgust at Young's floppy ones. At home, I ran so fast from the living room that I travelled to Pluto by accident. Let this be lesson to all the eager pre-teen and teenage fellows out there who want nothing more than to see female nudity. Don't wish too hard, friends.

Nathan Jones

The introductory vignettes for Nathan Jones, billed as 'The Collosus of Boggo Road", were scary--scary freakin' awesome with two cherries on top of a sundae made of gold doubloons. His maddened mindset was conveyed on-screen in perfect fashion. The camera panned around Nathan Jones, shirtless in the outdoor area of a prison like a crazed maniac who was unsure as to where he put his shirt. Right after that, Jones screamed in various places in the prison, such as a bathroom that did not have any toilet paper left. At the time, there was no wrestler on national television scarier than Nathan Jones. Then, he debuted and made holy statues weep clownish tears.

Santa Maria. A roundhouse kick at Wrestlemania 19 was his shining moment. One kick and he was gone. That's it?

Physical Activity and The Great Khali

I am not afraid of the 1-time World Heavyweight Champion. The Great Khali has hands like frying pans, legs like tree trunks, and a face like a large human being--he's majestic but most of all stationary sight. When Khali stands there being Khali, he is the gentle mouse. Perhaps the mouse has a nightcap on with a fluffy ball at the end of it. If the Great Khali could just stand there in the ring forever, I would donate all of my possessions to the needy in gratitude. Alas, Khali is a mobile wrestler. The Punjab giant puts opponents in his vice grip, brain chops people in the brainal region, and lifts his feet an inch off the mat for big boots. When Khali starts his physical rampage, my heart stops. No, Khali. Don't exert yourself at all. Please listen. You are making the villagers flee with slippers on their feet. That's cruel.

I do not care if Khali fails the fitness test as long as he passes the Stand There And Look Menacing Test. Khali is like that love of your life whom you met online. Their picture paints them beautiful, but they become queen (or king) of Ug Mountain when you meet them in person. I have never tried online dating because online dating is for those who are desperate, which I am not nor will I ever be, what with my alluring symmetry and all. In conclusion, a still Khali is bananas. A moving Khali is half-eaten apples with worms in them.

Brother Ray of Team 3-D

Brother Ray has a big mouth. Brother Ray has a tank top shirt that he made out of a regular t-shirt. I have no problem with Devon, though Ray is a different story in another book on a brand new shelf in a room that is not mine. As of now, Team 3-D are destroying TNA's X-Division week after week. They wish to make it an Ex-Division (Get it? I said division.) Brother Ray berates the amazing duo of Alex Shelley and Chris Sabin, then slams them through tables. Ray comes out and says derogatory remarks towards the audience and the under-200-pound wrestlers in the ring. In response, they do nothing but take it. Will his reign of destruction ever end? Brother Ray is the fat dragon up on the pointy mountain that must be slayed. I may be the slayer, but I need to get my slaying permit first. I hope to slay the fat one day.

Two can play at the insult game, Bubba. Listen up, your hairstyle is too short for your head. Your arms appear to be bigger than your arm bones. Your mother is promiscuous because she likes more than one brand of instant coffee. You strike fear and bacon into the souls of the innocent. Well, it's freakfast time, muthasucka.

Sid Vicious' Leg Break

The event was WCW Sin 2001; it was the day of the sun; the Sid was vicious; the opponent was Scott Steiner. Sid Vicious attempted to do what appeared to be a double-axe handle on Big Poppa Pump and failed. Over the television, I heard his leg snap like a million Slim Jims at once. I would not wish such an unfortunate accident on my worst enemy. I would rather share my ice cream cone with my worst enemy than break my leg like Sid. In fact, I would spoon with my worst enemy if it meant that my leg would be spared. From that event forward, I promised myself that my limbs would not suffer a similar fate. Today I wrap my legs in bubble wrap, tin foil, and sofa cushions; I add three leg braces onto each knee.

If The Ruler of the World cannot get through a match without suffering, how great of a chance do I have to endure through this lifetime without harm? I'm out. I want to become a recluse. The moment I leave this abode, I have a feeling that my leg will crumble. I can't let this happen. I have a full brain, not half of a brain. I am not taking the chance.

Mike Tenay Angriness

This past TNA Impact, I fainted at the vision of the ever pertrurbed Mike Tenay. He pouted in reply to the actions of one Jimothy Cornette as he let the travesty that is the Kurt Angle title victory stay official. Tenay, in his tuxiest of tuxes, screamed and yelled like he has never screamed and yelled in the previous few seconds. This was uncharacteristic of a TNA announce team member for they are always golf tournament silent.

Don West will never be able to sell me Angry Mike Tenay. Even if he swims in a pile of Angry Mike Tenays, even if he adds a Ken Griffey Jr. Rookie Card to the deal, I am not sold. I am going to make myself a necklace of Tony Schiavone portraits for protection. Be gone, evil spirit. You doth protest demonry. Show your face again and I will destroy it, Tenay. Let's go to Jeremy Borash in the back. He has an exclusive interview with the silver gun I plan to use to take Angry Mike Tenay down. Oh no. Somebody is fighting Abyss again. Abyss is so bloody that his blood is bleeding bloody blood. We'll return on Spike right after this clip of a lady gyrating to nothing...

Ron Simmons vs. Santino Matches

I bet Ron Simmons thinks he is all great with wrist tape constantly on his wrists. Ron Simmons probably wears his DAMN shirt to formal and informal gatherings without hesitation. Well, I have news for the former Farooq (Formrooq)--it's Friday the 13th every time he puts on his damn wrestling boots and wrestles the one and only Santino Marella. Is Farooq aware that Santino Marella is a former Intercontinental Champion? Has Farooq read the most recent issue of Santino Weekly where Santino Marella dishes about his solid relationship with Maria? Whether he has or he hasn't, Farooq better not interfere with Santino again. Their battles disappoint the parents of the universe. Let Santino live his Italian life, Farooq. Take solace in the fact that you drank beer and smoked cigars real good in front of that door to nowhere with Bradshaw at your side.

I cannot jumble the letters in DAMN to make a funnier or more efficient word. Therefore, I will just say NAM'D. You got Vietnamed in my new reality show for MTV. Have fun starting up restaurants with delicious foreign cuisine, Farooq.

Kip James' Teal Attire

The used-to-be Billy Gunn's bellbottom pants is reminiscent of the attire of WWE Diva Torrie Wilson. In a recent interview, Kip James admitted that he wears outlandish ring attire to get noticed. I believe that one must embody the gimmick in a physical sense as well as a verbal sense, so I agree with Kipwell. With that said, I do not agree with him that much. I tolerate his man pigtails whenever he sports them like any upstanding North American does, but I draw a double bold line at Torrie Wilson pants. This year, I have decided not to decorate my front door with a cardboard skeleton and cheesecloth ghosts as per the usual. For Halloween 2007, I'm putting up a blown-up image of Kip James in Torrie Wilson garb.

Help me. A picture of Kip James in women's clothing is on my house.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Where in the World is World Wrestling Entertainment?

Where in the World is Santino Marella?



I do The Mash. Perchance I do The Monster Mash.


An apple falls far from the tree. This is going to upset a lot of apple fans and tree fans.

My Cyber Sunday

This Sunday will be the most interactive day in the history of me. I am leaving this day up to you, the fans of The Swerved. You will determine my actions and decisions. I am tired of being an independent person. I will need your assistance, much like an elder needs a orderly to chew his potato chips for him. In no way will I sway your vote, but please vote for the first choice of each question. This is interactive. This is what we do when we cyber. I do not know what your teachers taught you in school, but when you cyber, you make a difference. I have counted about eight differences that you will make for yourself. Good work, Broseph.

WWE Cyber Sunday pales in comparison to My Cyber Sunday. WWE Cyber Sunday is the red-headed stepchild to My Cyber Sunday's strawberry beauty. You can take your online voting and shove it offline, World Wrestling Entertainment. Why should the public decide the nature of one measly Pay-Per-View when they can control a human for not only one day, but possibly the remainder of time as well?

Let the voting commence.

What company should sponsor My Cyber Sunday?

1)World Wrestling Entertainment
2) Total Nonstop Action
3) Ring of Honor
4) Milton Bradley's Karate Fighters

Wouldn't you like to see WWE sponsor this epic event? How about TNA? What about some ROH action? Should My Cyber Sunday be sponsored by a product and company that also sponsored the infamous WWF Survivor Series of 1997? There will be no screws nor jobs at this event. What will be present? Just a whole lot of voting. You decide.

What toothpaste should I use this Sunday?

1) Colgate
2) Aquafresh
3) Sensodyne
4) Lingerie Pillow Fight

What would it be like to see me use Colgate in the morning? How about Aquafresh? I have sensitive teeth, so will Sensodyne do the trick? When I need my whites to be the whitest, will a bunch of buxom girls play-fighting in their underwear do? I do not know how to tie my own shoelace, let alone choose a brand of toothpaste to use. Vote now. It's up to you.

What should I have for breakfast this Sunday?

1) Bacon and Eggs
2) Pancakes
3) Waffles
4) Steel Cage Match

I like edible things that come out of pigs and chickens. I like Aunt Jemima watching me eat. I don't like to let go of my Eggo. I don't think a chainlink fence is digestable, but I will try. So, what is it going to be? You have the power. Me want food.

What movie, by WWE Films, should I watch this Sunday?

1) See No Evil
2) The Marine
3) The Condemned
4) Gong Daddy Gong: The Adventures of Big Daddy V Banging A Gong

Is Jacob Goodnight good enough for this Sunday night? Is Sunday the day that John Triton rescues his wife? Is Jack Conrad Jack Conbad-to-the-Bone? Big Daddy V has a movie out and he doesn't even know it yet. WWE Films create nothing but masterpieces. Which masterpiece do you want me to view?

What should I do this late Sunday night?

1) Stay home
2) Party
3) Go to a bar/club
4) Lead pipe

Should I wear my "The Con Man" Rob Conway pajamas and become a homebody for the evening? Do you think Sunday is a night that's all right for partaying? Should I end the week on the dance floor with a shiny shirt on my body? On the other hand, lead pipe anyone? There are many activities to do on this great night. Please make the call now.

Who should I call to be my wingman on this hot and sultry Sunday city midnight?

1) Steve Austin
2) Mick Foley
3) JBL
4) Always (with wings)

We all know Steve Austin is a ladies' man; he is a gentleman who is always gentle with his women. Mick Foley was able to snatch Collette, a woman not afraid to wear an American flag tracksuit to one-up Sandman. Shaw "Bradjohn" Fieldlay is a man with a limo and a cowboy hat that he purchased with money. Women love money, but they also love to keep their lady business in check. What is a man without a wingman to do? This is your chance to decide the fate of the entire world almost.

What is My Cyber Sunday all about?

1) Vince McMahon getting to put Eric Bischoff in a dress.
2) Vince McMahon letting Eric Bischoff be attacked by an elderly woman's hoo-hah.
3) Vince McMahon putting Eric Bischoff in a back of a garbage truck full of eldery woman's hoo-has while Eric wears a dress.
4) Kevin Federline.

My Cyber Sunday has one goal and one goal only--to have many goals. In case you are not aware, I have acquired the assistance of one Vincent Kennedy McMahon to help me pull off this prestigious event. Vince would like this Sunday to have a concept, but what concept will it be? Should we embarrass Eric Bischoff, just as Vince prefers? Should we embarrass Eric Bischoff, just as Vince prefers? Should we embarrass Erich Bishoff, just as Vince prefers? Kevin Federline? There is a pattern here, but it's your choice to make.

What do I think of the name Cyber Sunday?

1) lol
2) lmao
3 wtf
4) Picture of a cat with accompanied text that relates to what the cat is doing in the picture. He is hasing cheezburger dis thymez.

I no brain not have. Me not of reaction any. Make response for I now. Oh, look. That stage is a computer and the aisle is a keyboard, dude. Shawn Michaels is praying at QWERTY. He's about to upload an attack of a violent nature. Gnarly. This is much more cybertastic than a Monday. I'll tell you that right now.

Monday, October 15, 2007

The Swerved Presents: Dream Match the 28th

Dakota Fanning w/ Tom Cruise vs. Rey Mysterio II

What you gonna say when she comes your way?
The oldest young person you will ever see
What you gonna say when she comes your way?

Dakota, Dakota, Surname Fanning (Hey)
Dakota, Dakota, that's her name-o
Dakota, Dakota, Surname Fanning (Hey)
Dakota, Dakota, transported by Tom Cruise

It's the return of Dakota Fanning
Her last name rhymes with Carol Channing's
She's getting all tangled up in Charlotte's Web
Protecting Wilbur from a crispy bacon death

Can Rey Rey fight back or even attack
Her eloquent speeches while she's sipping Cognac?
She sits by the fire, he tries to outfly her
Is he gonna fray her Sunday church attire?

This feud is getting pretty ridiculous
But it's entertaining for the audience
Dominic likes it too, yeah he better like it
Big smile on his face
So Rey better beat that little girl
In a potato sack race

Last match was a time limit draw
This calls for another cruiserweight war
Maybe Rey will Drop the Dime on the lady
The Cat in the Hat was bad, but this payback is crazy

Dakota, Dakota, Surname Fanning (Hey)
Dakota, Dakota, that's her name-o
Dakota, Dakota, Surname Fanning (Hey)
Dakota, Dakota, transported by Tom Cruise

The Question:
Who wins and how?






2 Wrestling 2 Confessions

I have something to tell you, Reader of Words and Sentences--I am ashamed to be a wrestling fan. A cameraman is standing right next to me as I am typing out this secret to you, but do not tell a soul. Surely, you may believe that I have no shame for I appear to be a confident and independent being, but you believe lies. You see, professional wrestling is the hideous article of clothing in my closet that I do not want to take out and put on my person. When I integrate wrestling into the outside world, the world spits it right back at me, and back into the closet it goes. The skeptics laugh and point at the superstars of wrestling. They mock their attire, their long greasy locks, and their uncanny ability to appear smelly over the television somehow. Since they do not care for the entertainment sport, they do not care for me. I am sick of their judgmental eyes, judging me as if each of their eyes were respective judges. Yes, I analyze and follow wrestling, but that is not a crime; I am no criminal. Just because wrestling steals my heart does not mean I steal things in life. Leave me alone, Earth. Leave me be. I deserve this cake. I deserve to have the ends and the middle at this metaphorical co-worker's birthday party.

This harsh world has left my insides to suffer and perish. My conscience is filled with secrets to the brim. Where am I to unleash these underlying thoughts and truths? Should I take it to a friend, who will understand completely yet play Halo 3 on my X-Box for 5 straight hours afterward, assuring me that the next game will be his "last try"? Should I take it to the church, where I will be forgiven, but forced to drink wine and eat bread when I have a craving for coffee and crackers instead? Should I take it directly to the Lord, who will listen though look down on me because he is not willing to get off his Sealy Posturepedic cloud? On fourth thought, I will do the next best thing--I will reveal my wrestling-related secrets on this wrestling-related blog in hopes that negative two people will read it. Many a justice will belong to me.

We are gathered here today to join together writer and reader in holy secret-keeping. With this ring, I thee confess. If there are any objections to this confession, I will Indian Deathlock your teeth.

1) I coined the name Cyber Sunday. WWE used the name to title its Pay-Per-View event where fans could decide matches and match stipulations through online voting. When I told them the name, I intended that it should be utilized to title a event in which somebody has cyber sexual relations with a hot fudge sundae. WWE did not keep their promise.

2) What happened to TNA's "adrenaline rush"? You mean, TNA lets it go at its own pace now? Can I have a second? I have something in my eye: tears.

3) Through inside sources, I know why the heart of ECW covers up his melon with a bandana. Tommy Dreamer's hair is being fired by World Wrestling Entertainment in a gradual fashion; he does not want anyone to know about this fact. By this time next year, he will be bald, yet his pants will be ever the more velour.

4) After watching episodes of TNA Impact several times over in slow, fast, and regular motion, I have come to the conclusion that Pacman Jones' leapfrog is not a leapfrog at all but a veiled and failed attempt to get opponents to give him piggyback rides. Somebody tell him that he's trying to mount others in an incorrect manner. Piggyback? On the back? It's the Backman Jones. Piggybackman Jones.

5) The following truth is top-of-the-pops secret popcorn: I heard that Beth Phoenix is otherwise known as The Glamazon. Bonus hidden truth: The Glamazon is a glamourous version of This week only, you can save 20% off on all paperback books covered in pink ribbons and perfume.

6) I will never buy Lilian Garcia's new CD entitled ¡Quiero Vivir! An entire album dedicated to Lilian Garcia moaning in pain at the hands of Charlie Haas accidental rope slingshots will be a very poor album.

7) When Chuck Palumbo comes down the aisle, how does his motorcycle move the steel steps up against the barricade and back against the steel ringpost like that? I want a telekinetic motorcycle. No fair, curly hair.

8) Santino Marella and I have a lot in common. For one, I also regret that Santino used to get his jollies from watching Britney Spears. It's "Crossroads" Britney isn't it, Santino? You disgust me.

9) I find it almost impossible to watch Team 3-D matches because they give me migraines. For me, they appear on screen as a blurry mess of various red and blue shades. Until I find my pair of 3-D glasses, I will have to deal with this problem.

10) Mike Knox of ECW stole my gesture. I too have one arm weaker than the other; one arm goes up while the other just hangs there in mid-air. I can only do letter K poses whenever I attempt to pose in the shape of the letter X. Is Mike Knox mocking me?

11) My favourite gimmick bout in 2007 WWE is the Punjabi Prison Match. My mind rests easy with the knowledge that pandas all over the world are watching with envy. Take it and love it like one of your own, Bai Yun of the San Diego Zoo.

12) I am not a fan of the Irish Whip. It is a move that entails one wrestler holding the hand of another before running. It is as if the wrestler is asking his opponent, "Do you want to go on this romantical journey into the fields of ecstacy with me?" Every time the opponent gets whipped into the turnbuckle, I imagine that his answer is yes. Every time that the opponent refuses, I think that he is not ready for that kind of commitment yet.

13) I am so used to the WWE Spinner Championship that I find it difficult to appreciate pictures which feature previous non-spinning incarnations of the title belt. For instance, when I observe an image of the WWF Winged Eagle Belt, I spin my head around to trick my mind into believing that the faceplate is twirling too.

14) I am romantically involved with Bears Mahoney, also known as the stuffed animal that Balls Mahoney gave to Kelly Kelly as a gift. When The Miz punted Bears into the audience, it was the end of its WWE career. Why? To tell you the truth, we both asked for our releases from the company. We would not have been able to see each other while on separate brands (Bears was with ECW, I was with not-ECW.) This relationship will not work if we are kept apart.

15) HBK took my Halloween costume idea-- I too want to be a Texan Crocodile Dundee, especially if a Texan Crocodile Dundee wears knee braces under his jeans like Shawn does.

16) I am the Last Man Standing. How did I do it? I stood within a group of women only.

17) I got in a feud once. Good thing I was able to eat more pizza than that guy.

18) I plan to win the 2008 Royal Rumble. You can only be eliminated if both of your feet touch the ground. I'll saw off my feet by January. I'll be good to go.

19) Jimmy Wang Yang is my buoy. Turn my ship left? Yes-haw.

20) I saw a fisherman use a suplex to catch a fish once. It was not necessary. He splashed around in the water for ten months trying to catch that thing. Is he aware of the concept of bait?

Monday, October 08, 2007

The Swerved Presents: Dream Match the 27th

Son of The Mask vs. Randy Orton

His Dad was beaten just the other day
Randy put the boot to him in the cartoonish way
He saw his Pop's face drop to the ground
Next to the bottom crib rope, where the son was found
He tried to get the mask as Randy tried to get it too
Randy said "SMMMOKIN' is probably bad for you, son.
SMMMOKIN' is probably bad for you."

And there's Orton and the Son and the Loki Mask
There's that little dog as well, I think his name was Max
If Jamie Kennedy appears,
Don't tell me when, '
cause I hate to kick it old school, man
You know I hate to kick it old school
You know I hate to kick it old school

The Question:
Who wins and how?



F-U, pectoral muscle tear.


I recover from Canadian Tanksgiving, a day in which everybody is thankful for army tanks.

Triple H vs. John Cena - Rap Battle

This week, we go back to a Pit article from March of 2006 when we were younger, brighter, and had yesterday hopes and dreams that have been crushed by the obstacles of today. During that period, the feud between one Triple H and one Jonathan Cena was fantastic in more ways than three-and-a-quarter. To the delight of the professional wrestling audience nation, Triple H tapped to Cena's STFU at Wrestlemania 22. Cena would go on to hold the twirling, twirling, twirling gold for most of the days up until now. I will miss Cena as the WWE Champion. My memories of his non-existent rap battle with Triple H will be forever etched in my Etch-A-Sketch brain. I got stairs. I still got stairs. Now I have a face made out of stairs. Alright, there we go. Rap battle. Oh, it's a rap battle on stairs.

Bask in the aged deliciousness, nation. We will speak again very soon.



Triple H is a 10-time world champion, "The King of Kings", and one the greatest wrestlers ever to step foot in a wrestling ring. Yet, has he ever faced someone the likes of John Cena? While Mr. Helmsley may be excellent in his own right, John Cena often wears a hat, so who has the advantage here? Wrestlemania 22 is the grandest stage of them all, and I believe Triple H and John Cena will make the Chicago crowd come alive. It is the feud of the century, somewhat like The Rock vs. Steve Austin, except not.

(If Steve Austin had to face The Rock in a rap battle, he would win one hand down [I am confident about my prediction, but not that confident.] Why do I think Austin will win? According to The Rock, Austin listened and may still listen to The Backstreet Boys, who are the hip hop overlords of our time. That's enough for me.)

These two competitors are matched up fairly well. Triple H has the patended Pedigree, a move which not only violently drives his opponents straight to the mat, but forces them to house their heads in the warm crevice of a grown man's groinal area. John Cena has the FU, a fireman's carry slam worthy of a fireman. Additionally, the STFU is a new submission move of his, recently added to his arsenal of shaking all mad-like and having a belt that spins. How did WWE come up with the name STFU? They included the letter U to the stepover-toehold-facelock name to insinuate a vulgar phrase aimed towards Cena's adversary. This is completely different from my original idea, which involved the U being included for the purpose of proposing the construction of Stepover-Toehold-Facelock University. Now my future kids won't be able to get that kind of education.

(Stepover-Toehold-Facelock University has a wonderful horticulture program, and their tuition fees cannot be beat. As you can tell, I am a big supporter of STFU. I hope their basketball team goes all the way this year. Go Fighting 5-Counts!)

The feud between them should be very exciting. Will they brawl and be pulled apart by WWE officials? Will Triple H continue to speak ill of Cena? Will Cena proceed to stand there and take it? In the immortal words of Hulk Hogan... "Most likely maybe, I assume."

(Has that catchphrase worn out its welcome or what? Dang.)

But, what I do know is that Triple H and John Cena are going to rap. Triple H is from Connecticut; one would think that he would not be proficient in freestyling, but little do you know that Greenwich, Connecticut was originally named "Big Pimpin' USA". I bet John Cena and Randy Savage have tea parties, so that's where his rap skills come from.

Anyway, if I'm positively sure of one thing, that thing is this: on the road to Wrestlemania 22, they... are about... to... kick it.

(Vicky Vale, Vick-a-Vicky Vale. Vicky Vale, Vick-a-Vicky Vale. If I do not become the billionaire writer I want to one day be, I have my rap skills to fall back on. On the streets, they call me MC Electrolyte because I make parties conducive to bumpin'. I should have been the guy to show up on the Heat before Wrestlemania 19, rapping at cardboard cut-outs. I spend my Sundays rapping at cardboard cut-outs... in the park... by myself. This hobby should become a lifestyle.)

Triple H's Keys to Rap Supremacy:
1) Use your microphone as a weapon, cupping your hand over the cover. This will act as your "verbal sledgehammer".
2) Wear suits to prove that you're from the streets.
3) Eat Wendy's.

(4) Don't put too much weight on your quadriceps. It will strain your angelic voice.)

John Cena's Keys to Rap Supremacy:
1) As you rap, continually execute the F-U on the Big Show. You will be cheered.
2) Love it when a plan comes together.
3) Continue to look like the offspring of Kevin Bacon and Matt Damon.

(4) Get your father to drop the beat.)

My name is Triple H, there's a Hunter in my first name
Press select, then start if you wanna play with The Game
I'm sure Mr. John Cena will take this privilege
To play with his Nintendo and blow on my cartridge

(As a child, the only Nintendo Entertainment System wrestling game I got to play was called M.U.S.C.L.E., but I'm not particularly proud to admit it. You could punch, jump kick, and fall on your butt. You could be a viking. Gameplay is not what it used to be.)

Hunter Hunter bo bunter
Banana fana fo funter
Fe fi mo munter

Stephanie and I are having a baby
I also planted seeds in Chain Gang ladies
I'm gonna have some sons, I'm gonna have some daughters
They will stroll out the womb, then angrily spit out water

(I think Triple H meant to say that his children would spit out milk, not water. They will not spit out milk to be intimidating; they will simply be raised to be lactose-intolerant. Triple H McMahon and Stephanie McMahon-McMahon are my sworn enemies 4-lyfe.)

One, two
Hunter is the greatest wrestler alive today
Three, four
I'm okay, but not compared to HHH
Five, six
Triple H is a ten-time champion, and that makes him the best
Seven, eight
Everything he says to undermine my character has validity
Nine, ten
Hopefully if I'm luckily, I will pull out an upset victory

It's all about control, and if you can take it
It's all about my beard, and if Cena can face it
He can't be a man like the one Levesque
If he wants to hang with me, he better grow some big breasts

(Triple H has been with Chyna, who has implants, and Stephanie McMahon, who has implants. If he is coaxing women to increase their chest size to that of his own chest, he has an crippling ego problem. Triple H is a B cup if I ever saw one.)

Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows
Everything that's wonderful when I pump my shoes up
Brighter than a lucky penny
When Hunter is near the rain goes, disappears, and I feel fine
Just to know that he's mine

(Cena used to pump his shoes up before executing the Five Knuckle Shuffle. I do not understand why he did so because pumping air into your shoes does not magically give your knuckle immense power. What is the correlation, sir? This is an act that is quite similar to a man putting air into his car tires before flying a plane.)

I'm a man with a plan that will make Cena lose
At Wrestlemania 22, I will put on ruby tap shoes
There's no place like home when I'm a world champion
He's not Batista or Benoit so I'm not gonna lose again

He's a new boy in your neighbourhood
His name is Triple H and it's understood
Hunter's there just to take good care of me
Like he's one of the family

He's "Paul In Charge"
Of my losses and victories
He's "Paul In Charge"
Of my finite popularity

And you'll want
You'll want
Paul in charge of me

(I have come to the conclusion that the more Hunter acts French and snooty, the more I like him as a wrestling personality and human being. Triple H as Jean-Paul Levesque is free to hoard my fridge for whatever snacks he may need. If Jean-Paul Levesque needs a more comfortable chair, I will retrieve one for him or make his chair in a woodshop--no questions asked. If he wants to sit back and watch Grey's Anatomy, I will change the channel and put in a tape to record the first of what will be a season-long complication for him. Conversely, 2007 Triple H will need to use a coaster. I'm sorry.)

Gonna beat Cena real bloody, hook the Pedigree
He won't even see the ref count one, two, three
This is how we do it in the W-W-E
I'll put "Vanilla" on "ice" on Pay-Per-View TV

Dental plan
Hunter needs braces
Dental plan
Hunter needs braces
Dental plan
Hunter needs braces

(I want to be objective, but Cena just served Triple H big time right there. The worst thing a man can tell another man is that the alignment of his teeth is askew. He might as well slap the beard right off of Triple H's face while he's at it.)

Vince McMahon will pull down his pants
Shane McMahon will do a shuffle dance
I will stand proud with the title in my hand
As Linda plays me off air with her Motorhead jug band

What's Hunter gonna do with that sledgehammer?
That sledgehammer in front of the cameras?
While I’m a get, get, get, get, him crunk,
Get him love crunk off my hump
What's he gon’ do with all those promos?
All those promos on Monday nights?
While I’m a make, make, make, make him face
Make him face, make him face
Cause of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps

(I like to think that John Cena has lady lumps to be proud of, but I don't think he got them in an honest and or pure manner. Does the Wellness Policy check for smuggled lady lumpage? The punishment for having smuggled lady lumps should not be three strikes; the committer should be fire immediately. Zero tolerance, I say. There will be no corruption.)

Word life, this is basic Hunternomics
While John is using home economics
"Hey Hunter, I baked you a cake, hon!"
If I want some bitch, then I'll come get me some

(This time, Triple H turns the tables and serves Cena. He's passing up cake, for Peter's sake. Too many people are being served these days. This is getting dangerous. I don't want the young ones to see this carnage. I want a peaceful neighbourhood, gentlemen. What are you doing to my stomping grounds?)

Check this out, I'm gonna rhyme with orange
Aw crap

(In actuality, dorange rhymes with orange. You won't find dorange in the dictionary because it is too awesome to be confined to the pages of a dictionary. Dorange is a adjective used to describe a paragraph that entails a blog author trying to come up with a stupid made-up word to rhyme with orange. For instance, this series of sentences is a dorange paragraph. I could go on and on about the word dorange, though I do not want to bore the audience. Maybe I should talk about something else. Should I not go on? Should dorange not dorange dorange dorange? Danny Dorange and Roadkill was a good oddball ECW tag team. Dorange.)

Monday, October 01, 2007

Appropriate Wrestling in Inappropriate Places Again

Snitsky Invades Rowan & Martin's Joke Wall





They have 3 ropes. Can't they fire the bottom rope? I get it. It's springy. Big deal.

Triple H's Beach Party Domination

Game Hunter Assassinating Hearst Game Helmsley Wrestling Aristocrat Game The is having a party. Autumn calls for chills and falling leaves, but Triple H does not want the summer to stop. Due to injury, he sadly missed out on all those gnarly waves and beautiful bikini babes. As of now, he wishes to make up for his lost sun-filled moments with a shindig of epic proportions. Don't you think it's about time that he revisit those dog days of July and August we so much enjoyed, which no doubt passed him by with the quickness? Sure you do. You have no choice.

Your local beach may be desolate and full of used hypodermic needles, but here at Triple H's Beach Party Domination, the only litter that you will find will be a basket of kittens -- sex kittens that is. There will be no surf, there will be no sand, but there will be bucket loads of fun in store for you.

Are you invited? If you have a face that is capable of being driven to the canvas, or a back that is magnetically attracted to the mat, absolutely positively yes. This is going to be peachy keen. Gee whiz, Hunter. You sure know how to throw a party.

Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
We're gonna play The Game

Triple H is the kind of guy who will wear a floppy hat with a sunflower on it for laughs. If you don't laugh at his humourous appearance, he will bury you in the sand and unleash a whole bunch of crabs on you. The crabs will walk sideways towards our face. Then, they will claw your eyes out... sideways.

Get yourself a tag team partner
This party's gonna be boss
Here's a song you two can sing now
One, two, three, and a loss

When Triple H takes a moonlight walk on the beach, he likes to spend a minute or two to appreciate life with a clam dig. He scoops up a clam, puts it in a Pedigree, and leaves it for dead. The rules of clam digging do not apply to him.

Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
We're gonna play The Game

If Triple H was the second scoop of a three-scoop ice cream cone, he'd find a way to make it to the top. It's much safer up there.

Here's a lad and here's a lassie
Coming down the bend
They're gonna help Triple H out
And he'll beat them again

Triple H tried to surf once, but failed. He said the waves were not large enough or talented enough to keep him up. His argument seems valid to me because I want to live.

Look up at those real bright lights
They're so shiny and white
Triple H has never seen one
Not on Monday or a Sunday night

Triple H thinks beach balls are too colourful and charismatic for their own good. He challenged one to a push-up contest once. Despite his torn groin, Triple H won decisively, dressed in his uncharacteristic biker shorts.

Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
We're gonna play The Game

One day at the beach, Triple H swam out into the deep waters of the ocean. The lifeguard yelled at him for doing so. Triple H came back and nailed the lifeguard with a Harley Race-like knee (where did he attain a replica of Harley Race's knee, anyway?) I don't know why the lifeguard had to shout. Hunter had floaties on, daggone it.

There is no one left to beat now
What's a Hunter to do?
You seagulls best better take flight now
Hunter's comin' for you

While children were building sandcastles, Triple H built a sledgehammer made out of tightly packed sand. He beat those sandcastles with that sandhammer. In turn, he struck those children with the sandhammer and sand went everywhere. Aw, it's in the netting of their bathing suits. Why, Hunter, why?

Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
Triple H is dominatin'
We'll never win at this
We'll never win at this
Nobody wins at this

Game over!

Triple H took all my Frisbees. I guess he likes Frisbees a whole bunch. He loves disc, he loves disc, he loves disc.