WWE loves their initials. As of this very moment, about one out of every one performers use some sort of abbreviation for their name or nickname. I don't see what's wrong with calling a person by their full moniker, but if you're going to present a bunch of letters together, they better sound good in sequence. Fortunately, the wrestling world is full of ingenuity, staying away from three-letter names such as ABC or QQQ. The WWE loves initials so much, they are a three-letter entity in and of itself. Also, the WWE proposed marriage to the concept of acronyms the other day. The decision is pending, but appears favourable.
Why are three-letter initials so prevalent in wrestling and the world in general? I guess it's because they're so fun to say...
Hey, look at that -- Xtreme Foosball League. I'm a creative genius. I bet it'd be funny if Vince McMahon created something with the name XFL, but instead of the players using a foosball, they'd use something like a football. Also, instead of foosball players, Vince would employ real football players. Isn't that something? Yeah, that's terrific. I'm laughing out loud at this idea. I'm also laughing in quiet.
Let me present to you some of wrestling's most infamous three-letter initials in the modern day:
Never has the initials of a human been so devastating. Randy Orton's full name is Randall Keith Orton; when you abbreviate his name, it becomes RKO; Randy Orton's finishing move is the RKO. Therefore, when Randy Orton defeats an opponent with the RKO, he's defeating the grappler with the essence of his being. Although one may perceive the RKO finisher as the "Randy Knockout," that phrase makes no sense at all. If it's not a technical knockout out, why would the knockout be randy? Why would a knockout be aroused?
Do you want to know why I'm not a professional wrestler? If I hit a person with the SKO (my "real" real name is Sontel Kontavious Orter), I would simply be attacking the man with letters. Because I am who I am, my name in Latin doesn't translate into an actual wrestling move. While I'm positive that I could hurt my opponent by throwing comically large S, K, and O letters at him, only the letter K has a 30% chance of wounding my adversary due to its jagged nature. Sadly, the S and O are smooth and childproof. On the other hand, because Orton is Orton, his name in Latin somehow means "Grab A Dude By The Neck, Then Jump, Then Fall Down". That's why he gets paid the big bucks and I'm stuck here... throwing letters at him.
I've always thought John "Bradshaw" Layfield was a fantastic speaker of words. If his words could wrestle, his words would be whatever the textual equivalent of Chris Benoit is. Thankfully, he has found his niche as the colour commentator on Friday Night Smackdown with Michael Cole. While JBL excels at the English language, Michael Cole does not. If Michael Cole's words could wrestle, his words would be whatever the textual equivalent of Michael Cole is.
Way back when JBL was wrestling and jiggling his way to the top of WWE, his persona gave birth to many ingenious moniker parodies. There was a time when I thought wrestling signs with the words "Just A Big Loser" were clever. After the 10,000th instance I saw the sign in the audience, I changed my mind. Today, the trend still hasn't stopped; I have to remind myself that if these fans couldn't hold up such signs, they would be displaying signs with "Cena" and "John Cena" instead. I'm very happy that they know a wrestler's name, but would it kill them to be a tad more creative? Sometimes when I see a sign that simply says, "Batista", I feel the need to add words beneath the name to make the sign more dynamic:
Possibility Uno: Batista is Coming
Possibility Dos: Batista is Here
Possibility Tres: Batista Just Left (You Missed Him When You Bought Those Nachos) [Maybe He'll Come Back If He Wants Some of Your Nachos]
I have never been successful changing a stranger's sign at a WWE live event, but that's probably because I always forget to bring a marker. I end up attempting to change a fellow fan's sign by eating a blue popsicle, then using my tongue to write. I am 0 for 234 attempts.
I'm often saddened when I watch an old tape involving the Greenwich Snob Hunter Hearst Helmsley. I grew up with that version of Hunter and I am unwilling to let that period of my life go. When I see him today in all of his stringy-haired, wrinkly-foreheaded, H-y, H-esque, H-ish glory, I yearn back to a time when Paul Levesque had a spring in his step and a ribbon securing his ponytail. Where did the ribbon go, Triple H? Did you lose it? When you lost it, did you lose your sense of wonder and whimsy too? For shame, Hunter. Let's get ready to suck the life right out of a young man's childhood -- my childhood.
I'm sure Triple H hated playing that character, but I loved it. I never met a person from Greenwich, nor a Hunter or a Hearst or a Helmsley, but if I did, I think I'd be pretty disappointed if the man, woman, or child didn't neatly fold his or her red coat first before gracefully bowing to me. I don't know about you, but if someone I just met did that for me, I'd probably take a bullet for him or her. It would be a bullet made out of a Flintstones chewable, but a bullet nonetheless.
Chris Jericho's World Wrestling Federation debut in 1999 was a lovely one. There was a countdown, the lights went out, his name appeared amongst footage of busy streets and a scantily glad woman leaping. Soon enough, he showed up with a pineapple-tail (akin to a ponytail, but on top of the head, rather than at the back), which bewildered The Rock. "Pineapples are strictly for juice and sometimes pizza," said The Rock in a memorable moment I made up in mind this very sentence.
Jericho was deemed The Millenium Man and I agreed because historians determined that the beginning of the 21st century was the "C'MON, BAY-BAY!" time period where man put one foot on the defeated 20th century while flexing in a cheesy manner.
Though, I never understood what Chris Jericho's initials stood for...
1) Y2J = Year Two Jericho? (What unit of measurement is a Jericho? Would it be like half of a nanometer? I'm no not good at the geometry.)
2) Y2J = Year To Jericho? (I did not know the year belonged to him. Would he mind if I used some of that year? I simply want to borrow it. I'll bring it back if he needs it. When another year goes on sale, I'll buy it, but I need to use that year now.)
3) Y2J = Year too, Jericho. (Whenever Chris would walk into a room, his first question would be, "So, 1984 is just a novel by George Orwell, right?" Soon after, somebody would correct him by saying, "Year too, Jericho." It makes sense to me, but I bet it'd throw a few people off.)
These three letters made Extreme Championship Wrestling what it was in the mid to late 1990's. The first thing I think about when I hear the name ECW is Rollerjam on The Nashville Network. If ECW is mentioned once more, I think RVD, but those jammers sure knew how to roll. Don't you forget it.
Like JBL, many signs have parodied Rob's initials. One time, a fan held up a sign which read, "Rob has VD." When I saw that, I let out a chuckle. A second later, I furiously wrote a letter to Rob Van Dam, urging him to see a doctor about his terrible condition of the groin. Looking back, I'm glad I never sent that letter. I did what my life coach Mr. Kevin told me to do instead: I wrote that letter, sealed it in a fancy envelope, left it on my night stand, and thought about the decision before a productive fifteen hours of sleep. My life coach told me if I still felt the same the next morning, I could send the letter, but it turns out my feelings waned.
To this day, Rob Van Dam doesn't know he has a venereal disease. Even if the news of his condition is in jest, that's some sad fake news right there. I'm crying fake tears. In wrestling, fake tears are scripted tears. I am crying tears as per the script indicates.
Q: Did you know that the World Wrestling Federation, now the sports entertainment juggernaut known as WWE, had to change its name due to a young panda bear accidentally killing another panda bear with the letter F of the WWF logo?
A: Sure, but the E is just as deadly. If you stuck a stick in the side of the letter E, you would have made yourself a fine pitchfork.
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