Each year, ten trillion people suffer serious injuries from trademark and or finishing moves. Considering that the world does not hold that many people, the statistic is rather impressive and disturbing. Every time someone I know falls to such wrestling maneuvers, I pray on my knees, hoping that others will not succumb to a similar unfortunate fate. Casual fans think that the majority of devastating finishers occur within the context of a wrestling match, but they are far from correct.
Wrestling moves can happen anywhere to anyone. I bet they're happening in your community at this moment. To illustrate my point, I shall to pick a random situation. Let's say you're a professional wrestler in a wrestling ring. An individual who's a professional wrestler as well executes a professional wrestling move on you. What are you going to do? You can't call the cops because they're too busy being security guards for Randy Orton and Priceless, or Bill Goldberg if we all volunteer to enter a time machine to visit the year 1998. You can't call 9-1-1 because they're up to their ears in phone calls about important things. Some customer at a fast food restaurant does not have enough nuggets in his or her box of nuggets. This news is an outrage. As an average human being, a finisher means doom. I, for one, wish to put an end to these shenanigans.
Wrestling moves hurt. The thought of one gives me fourth-degree burns. Backyard wrestlers know the dangers, what with their experience hitting each other with random objects they found in their garage. I am not a professional wrestler myself, but I have been the victim of many a trademark and finishing move. Last week, I met the Undertaker, or a man who vaguely looked like he could undertake things. As I shook his hand, he climbed up onto a railing, walked around for a minute or so, then took it Old School on my shoulder. Before that happened, I thought the Undertaker-looking guy was taking me for an elevated, scenic tour of the park. When I noticed that I wasn't on the railing with him, I put two and two together. I made five until I recalculated the numbers. On the second try, I got five.
This outbreak of finishers on innocent and guilty people makes me want to quit this gig and follow my dream of becoming the first man to walk on the sun, live on the sun, then force reverse-global-warming to even things out so the sun becomes our second planet Earth. On second thought, I know when wrestling needs me. This time, they need me somewhat. I am here for it somewhat. Let's do or do not do this thing, depending on the weather and temperature.
Hear ye, Hear ye. Hunter Hearst Helmsley is coming for you. Whether he is slowly walking towards you with a sledgehammer in hand, or using an ambulance as his primary source of transportation on the way to your local arena, you cannot hide from Triple H. He is everywhere. He is the Ryan Seacrest of World Wrestling Entertainment. One day, he will try to put you into the patented Pedigree, but do not fret. First of all, do you have your Patented Pedigree Preparedness Kit ready, or did you eat all of the food, drink all of the water, and make the reflective blanket all crinkly, non-reflective, and what not? I hope your answer is the right one.
In order to escape from Triple H's thunderous thighs, you will need to find a set of wrestling ropes. I don't even care if you're nowhere near a wrestling ring at the time. You better find those ropes. If you don't feel like finding a set of wrestling ropes, you better bring your own. When Triple H tries to execute the Pedigree on you, approach those ropes. Walk backwards while in the Pedigree position, if you must. Next, back body drop that man up and over those ropes. Triple H may be The Game, but real life is not a game. Real life doesn't have invisible walls. Trust me. Years and years of watching WWF and WWE television has taught me that attempted Pedigrees next to the ropes are failed Pedigrees. Apparently, snobs from Greenwich are afraid of ropes because they act as a useful yet unstable barrier between themselves and the middle class. Think about it... while you're next to a set of wrestling ropes. Hunter will never suspect what’s about to happen next.
Whatever you do, try not to find yourself in the Pedigree and Rey Mysterio's 6-1-9 at the same time. With the Pedigree, wrestling ropes can be your best friend for life. Together, you two can watch movies, play video games, and paint each other's manly nails a manly colour, such as fuchsia. With the 6-1-9, those wrestling ropes might as well be the Linda Hogan to your Hulk Hogan. In every Rey Mysterio match, his opponent will always groggily stumble to the ropes, leaving him open for the 6-1-9. In other cases, Rey Mysterio will force his opponent onto the middle rope, thereby paralyzing the man to receive the Booyakaian move at full force. For Rey Mysterio, wrestling ropes act as his magnet. You cannot repel their power.
For the 6-1-9, get as far away from wrestling ropes as humanly possible. Discard any items or gifts that wrestling ropes gave to you in the past. Block wrestling ropes' phone number from your home and cellular devices. If wrestling ropes knock on your front door, turn off your lights and stay close to the ground. You don't want wrestling ropes to know you are home. Due to his diminutive size, Rey Mysterio is a sneaky fellow. He could give you the 6-1-9 at any location at any time of day. For example, he could fly through your window in a dream, then 6-1-9 you while you lean against a set of clouds shaped like wrestling ropes. Once you take wrestling ropes completely out of your life, you will take the 6-1-9 out of your life, too. It’s so hard to say goodbye to two things: yesterday and wrestling ropes.
When Chris Jericho returned to World Wrestling Entertainment, he came back with a vengeance. Sparkly vests did not get more sparkly than Y2J's vest. People constantly lost their wallets before Jericho's extravagant wallet chain appeared on screen to guide them to a life of responsible wallet ownership. Sadly, the Chris Jericho we knew then is no more. Forget about flashy clothes and accessories. Bring on the business suits, no matter if we are conducting actual business or not. As wrestling fans know, WWE is a classy bunch. Therefore, I applaud Chris Jericho's efforts to represent the company in an honest and open way. Although, he shouldn't be breaking any codes with his current persona. I would suspect code-breaking behaviour from someone geeky like Evan Bourne, or a character actor wearing glasses and a headset from every other action-thriller in movie history, but not Chris Jericho. Not Chris Jericho.
I won't allow today's Jericho to break any codes, let alone your code. As a world-famous professional wrestling analyst and representative of the common man, I understand how hard you worked for that code. You put your code in a bank. If you are an elderly person, you stored the code in your mattress because you think banks are evil. I know you, but Chris Jericho doesn't. He wants to break your code at any cost. Since I am so generous, I will tell you how to avoid the Codebreaker. Whenever you get the chance, change the password to your face. Your code shouldn't be "password," nor should it be the name of your dog (Password the Dog). Believe me when I urge you to add some numbers and random letters in there. Chris Jericho is a super serious wrestler, but he doubles as a face-hacker. If you are not careful, he will shatter your facial bones while calling you a derogatory name from his pocket dictionary. You face will not be strong until it is password strong.
If I pay a surgeon to surgically add five-hundred fingers to my hand, I can count the number of divas who use the DDT as their finisher on a single hand. Truly, the differences between WWE Diva DDTs are minimal. Am I to believe that Mickie James' DDT is better than Maryse's DDT because Mickie does an awkward yet aggressive shriek beforehand? In turn, am I supposed to be impressed by Maryse's DDT over Mickie James' version because Maryse flips her head back? A DDT is a DDT, ladies. I'm aware of the fact that many of these women are models, but I was raised to treat models as the smartest and most creative people in the world. After all, beauty equals talent and intelligence. They can do better. As an aside, I want to emphasize that my parents raised me right. Thanks for making my face symmetrical, folks of mine.
As a member of the Attractive Legion of North American, I'll let you in on a little secret: the Woman's Special DDT is not as lethal as you think. Of course, the move is successful in a WWE Diva match, but that does not mean it is flawless. If a WWE Diva approaches you in the street and tries to give you the Woman's Special DDT, threaten her by introducing a younger and prettier version of her into the fold. That WWE Diva will be shocked to see her, providing you with an opportunity to escape her tanned and tone death grip. Next, that younger and prettier version of her will put her down with a DDT. Your problem will be solved. That WWE Diva's problem will be created. Oh, reality.
Sometimes, I go to bed at night by calmly inserting myself between the sheets in a gentle fashion. Now and again, I visit Mr. Sandman by rolling onto the bed from a standing position, then draping the covers over me to create a human burrito. On rare occasions, I opt to sleep with authority. I want to let those bed bugs bite. As I look upon the WWE talent roster, I see no man, woman, or leprechaun-sized man who behaves like a child for some reason who can help me in my quest for a spirited slumber. On second thought, I notice one gentleman. In this world, which is the only world we have, Mark Henry is the strongest gentleman alive . Mark is a power wrestler by day, but serves as a power tucker by night.
Mark has no reason to attack me with his finishing move for I have never been critical of him, nor his ability to store tonnes of water in his beard as if his facial hair was an Egyptian camel’s hump. Unless I say something negative about Tony Atlas' massive sleeveless shirt collection, I don't expect to feel the mat-shattering wrath of the World's Strongest Slam in my lifetime. If you follow my advice, neither will you. How you will make things not painful for yourself? By covering the entire world in comfortable beds. That way, if you find yourself in the clutches of one Mark Henry, the World's Strongest Slam will become a forceful way to put you to bed instead. Please believe me when I claim that you can cover Earth in Sealy Posturepedics; I have no reason to trick you. Eventually, you will run out of beds. Perhaps you will have to blow up an inflatable futon or two. I have a few bean bag chairs that I could lend you. In lieu of a mattress, maybe you will have to carpet parts of the world twice or thrice over in thick but soft carpeting. Nevertheless, CM Punk will be so jealous that Mark Henry put you to sleep first. He'll look like he doesn't bathe more than usual. Punk’s fans tell me that he smells like lilac on a warm summer’s day. I remain skeptical.
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