WWE's The More You Know

The following article was written in June of last year. If you are familiar with NBC's "The More You Know" public service campaign, you will have buckets of chuckles with this piece. If you have an request for a future edition of The Swerved: Special Edition, or if you have a specific topic in mind that you want addressed in a new article, please leave a comment or send over an e-mail. Also, remember to type in a language I can understand. I can read English, some French, and Great Khalese if I squint really hard.

-Stephen

*****

As sports entertainers, wrestling greats are meant to do two things and two things only. Firstly, they are to shock and amaze audiences with death defying feats such as the modified suplex and safe style headlock. Secondly, they are to be informative spokespersons of our days. You see, when I was little, I was a troublemaker; I didn't know who to turn to for advice. I would do such dastardly acts as crotching classmates on the top rope and putting substitute teachers through flaming, stacked tables. They called me, "The Kid Who Crotched Classmates On Top Ropes and Put Substitute Teachers Through Flaming, Stacked Tables." That nickname alone was the worst thing I've ever been called, so I needed help. Where did I get it? I went to the one person who could help me -- Duke "The Dumpster" Droese. He showed me the way.

The following re-enactment is not suitable for all readers. Grandparental discretion is strongly advised:

Stephen: So, I think I need anger management or something.
Duke "The Dumpster" Droese: It's time to take out the trash!
Stephen: Okay!

(Duke "The Dumpster" Droese was one of my favourite characters when I first started watching the World Wrestling Federation. First of all, he brought a garbage can to the ring. Why? Because whatever day WWF Superstars aired in your area, it was garbage day. At the same time, I wish he would've formed a tag team with another wrestler, like Marty "The Recycle Bin" Jannetty, since you need to balance that trashbaggin greatness out with something eco-friendly. There is no doubt about that.)

And, that's how I became a garbage man. In conclusion, I think I can safely say that wrestlers are, in fact, the greatest teachers of all.

Honestly, I believe these grapplers can guide us and the children of the future to a better tomorrow in the form of public service commercials. The television giant known as NBC may have invented the "The More You Know" campaign, teaching kids not to smoke crack or sausage, but World Wrestling Entertainment can take it one step further. Surely, they could take it two steps, but Vince McMahon is a modest Mc-Man. He and his company will only do what is needed for society.

(I'm going to invent an arcade game called Mrs. Mc-Man. An 8-bit representation of Linda McMahon will move around a maze, taking stunners badly everywhere she goes.)

Take these commercials seriously, for they may be the ticket to human salvation. Just remember, yes this is entertainment... but the hazards are real. No matter who you are, whatever you do, please. Don't try this at home. Try it at a friend's house. I bet they have a high-definition television there.

(The views of the The Swerved do not reflect the opinion of the wrestling industry, nor the opinion of World Wrestling Entertainment. If you want to execute wrestling moves on another human being, please do so at a relative's home. Just in case you knock out your little brother on the kitchen floor with a Tiger Driver, your Fun Uncle will make it all better with ice cream.)

The Commercials:

Vince McMahon is a no-pants billionaire. Any questions?

(Yes, one. Stephen Rivera of the The Swerved with Stephen Rivera. I had a two-part question, but I have condensed it into one. Here it goes -- how come he done got dead?)

Commercial #1: Vince McMahon on "Old Age"

"You're sixty years old with a chiseled body made of brawn and steel. You force your female employees to act in your overtly sexual skits. They feign interest in you while you fondle their unmentionables. You are the focus of your flagship show, leapfrogging over younger and more eager individuals who may benefit from the national and international exposure. You walk down ramps with your legs spread out and your arms flailing wildly like you really need to go to the toilet. Wrestling fans think you've lost your mind. What's wrong with you? Nothing, old man. You best believe it. Get your swerve on, gramps. Hit it while you can."

(I find it hard to defend a lot of the television Vince McMahon approves to air. He said he wouldn't deal with death, but he has exploited death many times over, including instances that have occurred quite recently; he assured the fans he wouldn't touch the issue of rape, yet Kane and Lita's relationship was one big forced love-a-thon and Heidenreich violently imposed his poetry bookmark between Michael Cole's back index a few years ago; Vince claimed he wouldn't refer to murder, but at the Great American Bash of 2004, Paul Bearer was encased in wet cement and periodically returns to house shows to remind others that you are only dead from murder every other week. With all that said, Vince McMahon charges viewers forty dollars a few times a month to see the same RAW, Smackdown, and ECW matches they've seen time and time again, but with the addition of a guy slamming his opponent on a different surface, like a car or a blanketed pad, rather than on a mat. He gets away with it too. That is something else.)

Mike "The Miz" Mizanin might be the greatest host of Smackdown ever, but he is also the greatest host of our hearts and minds. When I first saw him on screen telling the crowd what the jumbo screens already mentioned, I was hooked. "This guy is cool," I said. "This fellow has pizazz." To be cool and have pizazz is much needed in the wrestling industry, as in life. For job interviews, if you don't show pizazz or if you are incapable of having pizazzal qualities, you are out the door. Therefore, who better than this man to tell you what to do? Do you need more convincing? Well, this guy was on the Real World. Take it and love it.

(Because MTV has kept the program on for so long in different incarnations, I'm starting to think that maybe The Real World is reality and my life is a reality show. Who wants to see a guy write on a notepad while eating a spoonful of peanut butter every morning? Everybody does.)

Commercial #2: The Miz on "Investment"

"HOO-RA. Think about it."

(I've thought about it, and I'm not feeling it. HOO-RA would cost me 7.6% interest every year on my investment. That is not sound. This is not reasonable.)

I'm not the biggest fan of horror movies because I don't wish to pay money towards something I can already get for free. If I wanted to get scared, I could just stroll into the rural areas of North America. "Look at these ugly people in their ugly convience ugly store of ugly. They are the opposite of not ugly." Yet, I do have an exception for horror movies starring Kane. I'm willing to pay many a dollar for that kind of entertainment. There's something intriguing about Kane walking around without pyro going off behind him. I often suspect that pyro goes off when he goes into the washroom or buys discount shoes.

(Kane is an angry being since those Dr. Scholl's shoe inserts do not come in Size 15. Lastly, for the sake of saying, Kane also uses his See No Evil Hook for a shoehorn. That is why he is a morose, tall, bald, and shirtless man too.)

Commercial #3: Kane on "Movies"

"You're watching See No Evil with that special someone. When Jabob Goodnight emerges from the hotel shadows, she's gripping your arm in fear. You can smell her pretty hair. The scent is reminiscent of strawberries, but with an added touch of kiwi or lime. As the movie continues, bodies are dismembered and blood is flying everywhere. This time, your lady can't watch. Instead, she's getting a little friendly with you. Possibly, she's getting a little too friendly. She rubs your thigh and blows into your ear. Your body gets tense. The sensation is uncomfortable, but somewhat alluring. You're not sure what's going to happen. What do you do? Lean over and lovingly say to her, "Stop blocking the screen, woman! He's gonna tombstone that bitch! I know it!" It's then and there that you break up with her. Why? She failed to appreciate a WWE film. You are better off without her."

(I tried to watch The Condemned at my local movie theatre, but by the time I got there, it was "condemned" from the multiplex for poor ticket sales, so to speak. In all, the box office returns were "Stone Cold", if you will. Jack Conrad failed to "stun" the competition. There was no "rattle" in that "snake". Rochard Rieper from the Lou Thesz Press gave it a "Hell no!" Get? Hey, what are you doing? Don't touch me. I said not to touch me. Fine. I'll show myself off a cliff.)

When I think of Randy Orton, I think of legendary killing greatness. Also, I think of wisdom. Since he's the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in WWE history, I expect he knows a thing or two about a thing or two. Say, if I asked him about the quality of Tupperware containers, he'd probably RKO each one to figure out which is the most durable. He's championship material any day of the year because he cares about the state of day-old leftovers.

(Randy Orton the Stalker is not as Good Times as much as Randy Orton the Cake Jumper Outer is Good Times. Randy Orton the Cake Jumper Outer is the deity I pray to on sorrowful nights. Randy Orton the Cake Jumper Outer is Great Times.)

Commercial #4: Randy Orton on "Behaviour"

"Just because you're cocky doesn't mean you're a bad person. In a recent study, 24 million Americans feel they are mistreated by their peers. Do you know what that means? You guys aren't doing a good enough job. Get it together, Hollywood. You better piss in that dude's sandwich, or I will."

(Let me tell you about a humourous event that I was involved in on one crazy Saturday night. To be funny, one of my cohorts urinated in a glass, dropped a bunch of ice cubes and a straw in the glass, and gave it to me in attempt to pass it off as Mountain Dew. What did I do? I put the straw to my lips and inhaled a bit. As the questionable beverage was mere inches from my lips, I reached into that dude's body, ripped out his bladder, and threw it out onto a highway during rush hour. We laughed and laughed.)

If you watched RAW recently (and I hope to the Lord almightly Rob Conway that you did), you saw the accidental incident involving the collision of one Charlie Haas and one Lillian Garcia. Mr. Haas aggressively bounced off the ropes in the presence of a sensual young woman, and she went flying. Then, Lillian collapsed to the somewhat padded ground, and screamed and moaned. I wasn't there, so it wasn't audible calls of sultry delight; it was most certainly moans of pain. What did Haas do after that? He pumped his fist in the air and went "YEAH!" You see, that's a man right there. No wonder he's married to Jackie Gayda. He probably bounces off his sofa ropes at home and knocks her through sliding doors. I wish I were that masculine.

(Jackie Gayda crashed through a sliding door about a year ago and ended up pregnant. Many months later, their very, very, very fine Haas welcomed their first child -- a daughter. Charlie Haas is The World's Greatest Tag Team Partner in addition to The World's Greatest Impregnator.)

Commercial #5: Charlie Haas on "Chivalry"

"When you see a woman with a microphone announcing your name, run towards her and knock her on her ass. That's what the ladies love."

(Lillian Garcia is so tempted by Charlie Haas' wicked ways that she recently injured herself in a ski accident on purpose so he couldn't injure her first and steal her heart. She is smitten.)