3: Part 2

The Swerved. Today, these two words are two of the most important words in the wrestling business. Specifically, the last word is more important than the first because it is longer. Nevertheless, The Swerved's three glorious years on the internet has proven its staying power. You cannot get rid of it for it will be around as long as I say so. The Swerved is the Funaki of the world wide web. Whatever site you run, yours is the TAKA Michinoku to my Funaki. Sorry.

Over the years, trillions of visitors have graced the site with their presence and undivided attention. While the majority have been men, some of them were women. To those ladies, I say thank you very much for visiting The Swerved. You could have done something productive with your time, such as watch Oprah, but you chose to come here instead. My quest to face Oprah Winfrey is not over yet, though. Soon enough, you will be able to enjoy Oprah and The Swerved at the same time as I face her in a bare-knuckle, open-toed-shoe fight in uncharted waters. Believe you me. You're next, Dr. Phil.

World Wrestling Entertainment may never listen to what I have to say. Total Nonstop Action may never heed my warnings. Despite my advice falling on the deaf ears of these industry heavyweights, I will not quit. I will not rest until I get the word completely out of whatever container holds words. If I have to use a comically large megaphone to get my voice heard, I will. If need be, I will use two to make it appear as though I am talking into a pair of large, empty, ice cream cones.

Behold The Swerved as it brings you into a future in which cars are flying, skateboards are hovering, and laughs are plentiful. I call this future the year 1991. Be prepared to head into the unknown, or don't bother to get up at all.


More Thank Yous
Thank you, CM Punk, for being the straight-edge superstar that you are. Judging from the way you once looked at a bucket of KFC that sat atop the RAW announce table, I think you have two addictions: competition and crispy legs and thighs. Everybody has their vices. I forgive you.

Thank you, Eric Young's business suit, for living in the shadows of Chris Jericho's business suit. The more you constrict a professional wrestler’s movement, the more serious he will become. Sheamus' fancy vest, striped shirt, and dress pants is a distant third in the serious department. The pageboy hat is making him look like the ghost of Oliver Twist.

Thank you, Cody Deaner's mullet, for existing. Many people think that a mullet is business in the front and a party in the back. As for me, I believe a party never ends with a mullet for it is the Cristal of haircuts.

Thank you, Cedric the Entertainer, for bringing your clown car or clown limousine to World Wrestling Entertainment. Apparently, your clown limousine had the power to draft The Bella Twins from ECW to RAW. In comparison, my clown limousine can only store numerous clowns, such as those who belong to the upper class.

Thank you, Vladimir Kozlov's karate jacket, for leaving nothing and everything to the imagination. You have made Vladimir's top half ready for karate. Meanwhile, his bottom half is ready for some kung fu loving.

Thank you, Dr. Stevie, for easing the minds of the TNA roster while owning a closet full of half-shirts. In the past, I went to psychiatrists who owned a closet of full shirts, but they were disappointing. They weren't as learned as they thought they were. They never knew how cold you could get in the stomach area while wearing a half-shirt.

Thank you, The Bella Twins, for looking like one another. As long as you continue to look like one another, WWE will employ you. Do not dye your hair. Do your change your ethnicity. If you have to sneeze, hold it in until WWE is not paying attention. When either of you sneeze, you look different than the other one. That’s bad.

Thank you, AJ Styles, for doing that thing with your hood when you make your entrance. Every time you do that thing with your hood, it's as if you're playing peek-a-boo with the audience. Peek-a-boo, AJ Styles. The gay community can see you.

Thank you, Zack Ryder's entrance theme. The other day, I asked the radio to tell me everything it knew. In response, the radio told me that Ashlee Simpson didn't steal my boyfriend. I wasn't aware that my sexual preference changed overnight, but thank goodness. That's a load off my mind. Tonight, we're going to see AJ Styles do that thing with his hood.

Thank you, WWE's "Did You Know?" bumper segment. Did you know that WWE loves to toot its own horn, no matter how insignificant those horns may be? Oh, you didn't know? Well, you better call somebody.

Thank you, Tony Atlas' laugh. You are similar to Michael Cole's laugh, except Tony Atlas doesn't die a little on the inside when I hear you.

Thank you, Elijah Burke, also known as TNA's D'Angelo Dinero. You are the angel of money, which means you are probably sitting on a cloud right now, spreading Philadelphia Cream Cheese on dollar bills.

Thank you, Theodore Long, for going on a hellacious ride with the Undertaker on a recent episode of Friday Night Smackdown. With your trip in mind, I don't think I want to ride with the Undertaker to Hell anymore. I would rather take an airplane, or some sort of express shuttle.

Thank you, Slam Master J, for being called Slam Master J. If you were called Suplex Master J, I would most likely think you are not cool. People in my 'hood call me Collar-and-Elbow Tie-Up Master J.

Thank you, Smackdown, for a great decade. Good thing you debuted in 1999 and not a few years later. You were named at a time when The Rock's catchphrases were good. I would never help you celebrate a decade of Friday Night How's Your Lips? I would not know where to begin.

Thank you, professional wrestling contract signing. Never has signing a sheet of paper been so dramatic. If the pen stops working in the middle of a signature, watch out. It's going to be wild.

Thank you, Kane, for continuing to wear the same pair of tights for over seven years. Every day, you denounce the stereotype that deranged bald men never lose their luggage at the airport.

Thank you, jokes about Chris Masters that pertain to his fluctuating muscle mass and hair volume. Chris Masters keeps on changing. He must be one of those interactive masterpieces, like those framed pictures with the moving fish and waterfalls in it. You can get them at the mall.

Thank you, Undertaker's druids, for being quite helpful to the Undertaker. He doesn't even give you form-fitting cloaks, yet you never hesitate to give him a hand. I bet you have to bring his groceries home all slow and ominous, too.

Thank you, Smackdown fan who did the cutthroat hand gesture, then flung your hands forward to inform others to forget about your cutthroat hand gesture. Actually, I'm flinging my hands forward now. Ah, forget about this thank you.