NEXT WEEK
Adamle and me.
AND
Forget everything you know about slip covers.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Conversations with Batman: Fallopian Tube Love
NEXT WEEK
Adamle and me.
AND
Forget everything you know about slip covers.
The Wrestling Diaries
This week, I take a stroll down Recollection Boulevard to September 2005. Why Recollection Boulevard? You see, I would take a trip down Memory Lane, but Memory Lane is for the poor, the ugly, and the uneducated. Conversely, Recollection Boulevard has a beautiful rose garden, pristine tennis courts, and a reinforced cage for street urchins. Thankfully, this cage prevents the urchins from begging for stale sesame crackers while I am trying to spend quality time with my lady friend, my other lady friend, her lady's lady friend, and some attractive stranger I met near the water fountain. Let me tell you, when two slate statues make eye contact with each other as they relieve themselves in a pond of pennies, you've got yourself some romance. Forget your fast cars and your blatant disregard for the safety of yourself and your fellow passengers, Nicholas Luscious Hogan. Elaborate water fountains are the ultimate panty remover.
On this edition of The Swerved: Special Edition, I look back on the many tidbits and secrets found from the diaries of popular professional wrestlers. Everything you think you know about the muscly men and women of World Wrestling Entertainment and Total Nonstop Action is false. Go ahead and throw your preconceived notions out the window for they will do no good. Before he asks the question, Booker T knows if you can dig it or not. He simply asks the question to break the ice. Due to their unmentioned inexperience in the boudoir, D-Generation X would prefer if you would not suck it. If you are going to physically express your love for Shawn Michaels or Hunter Hearst Helmsley, hold hands to start. Last of all, Batista does not stand alone. While you may not accept this fact, have you ever seen Batista stand alone with your own eyes? If you witness Batista riding a subway, space constraints prevent him from standing by himself. Do not get me started with Batista at a standing-room only concert. He is not as special as he claims to be.
As you direct your judgemental glares to these forgotten secrets of yesteryear, consider yourself lucky. Even though I have been to the diary well three times in my illustrious, professional wrestling analytic career, I will never visit that well again. The task is too dangerous. The risks are too plentiful. Death is but a single page turn away. The day that I borrow another diary of a professional wrestler is the day that I am no more. Truck driving is not the safest job in the world, though it is not as difficult as borrowing diaries. I scoff at the supposed plight of farm workers, airplane pilots, and policemen as well. Yes, a malfunctioning tractor or unpredictable farm animal may run over an unsuspecting farm hand. In turn, diary borrowers may strain their index finger as they attempt to pry open the diary's heavy front cover. Airplane pilots may perish in a horrific ocean crash which leaves zero survivours. On the other hand, A jagged key that opens a diary may slightly scratch a diary borrower‘s delicate epidermis. A policeman may get shot in the face by a stray bullet during an intense standoff with a manic criminal. Likewise, the printing on the diary page may be messy, which makes reading a definite challenge for the diary borrower. In the future, the plight of the diary borrower must be put into song for it is the most stressful task of all.
Until that day arrives, let us bask in the warmth of diary secrets. This feels so wrong, yet so right. One moment later, this feels so wrong for a second time. Let’s keep this meeting quiet. I don’t want to wake up the neighbours.
The following piece contains excerpts I have recently uncovered from the diaries of select professional wrestlers. Please do not ask how I got these entries because I am not particularly proud of the means through which I attained them. Although, be aware that my body is currently in sharp pain. Furthermore, I had to listen to a karaoke rendition of "Sk8erboi" sung by Torrie Wilson and Candice Michelle for the entire time. Whether you think this was a good or bad experience is up to you. As for me, I am confused. In addition, do not inquire about further entries from a particular person's diary. I cannot help you because 1) I do not have them at the moment and 2) you do not the have the expressed written consent of Major League Baseball. Nevertheless, please enjoy these intriguing snippets of what I consider be an excellent look into the lives of those in the business.
(Unlike the casual wrestling audience, I do not view professional wrestlers as larger-than-life superstars. Wrestlers are not any different than you and I. Do not be fooled by their glistening pectoral muscles or their willingness to cup another man's junk during gorilla press slam attempts.
We all make millions of dollars by play fighting with other grown men. If you don't partake in this activity yourself, leave our world. We all appear in cliché action films supported by no-name actors who wish to use said films as a springboard towards artist, erotic thriller serials on Showtime. We all mask our recreational drug use through complex, underhanded methods in order to keep our precious spot at the top. Don't lie to yourself. Last week, I took some horse steroids, ate a bale of hay, placed third in a steeplechase, produced liquid glue to help construct children's macaroni collages, then fathered several illegitimate colts and fillies. We are cut from the same sports entertainment cloth.)
This first excerpt comes from the "The Con-Man" himself -- Rob Conway. His diary was labelled "The Con-Journal." Well, he can't win them all, but I applaud his efforts. Good show, incredibly shiny guy.
(Rest in peace, Rob Conway’s sequined pageboy cap. I shall bury you in the dirt next to the other members of the Wrestling Headwear Hall of Fame. You will rest next to the greats, such as Buff Bagwell's magical top hat, heel John Cena's white bucket hat, Vince McMahon's jet black do-rag, and last but not least, Godfather's fedora with a feather on it. When the Godfather desired to discipline his hos for being too respectable and ambitious, he would not slap them with the back of his hand. In times of trouble, he would tickle them with his hat feather. Oh, the sacrifices that peacock made to complete the Godfather's wardrobe. Cristal on the sidewalk for that peacock. One day, may he regain his job as the NBC logo.)
Dear Diary,
Just look at me. Ain't I a sight to see? Just look at me. I'd like to know where that hat with the sequins went. I hardly wear it anymore. I loved that hat as it made me look like a flamboyant limousine driver. "Not only will I take you to the airport, but I'm also... gonna make couscous!" Yeah, that would've been great. A while ago, I used to be in a tag team with somebody who looked like that Jude Law person if you squinted hard enough. I used to call him Sly Captain and the World Wrestling Entertainment of Tomorrow. Now, he's on some Friday night show. I didn't even know there was television on a Friday. With him by my side, I was a 20-time World Tag Team Champion, beating powerhouse combinations like Sgt. Slaughter and Rhyno, Val Venis and Rhyno, and Tajiri and Rhyno. We totally revolutionized tag team wrestling. I wish the best for Almost Jude Law, but I wish better for myself (naturally, because I "con"). First we were from France, then we were from Quebec. Because we were moving west, our next hometown would have been the Pacific Ocean. Man do people hate that ocean. I've been told that a lot of Americans are furious that the Pacific Ocean made some very poor decisions for the country. In one of his 2004 campaign speeches, John Kerry was like, "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, large body of water!". Now that I think of it, he was wearing a hat that was exactly like mine during his speech. That magnificent bastard.
Just di-ar-y,
Rob Conway
(Three years ago, the WWE tag team division was no better than it is now. Between Conway and Grenier as La Résistance and a thousand random, makeshift teams, I choose a slow, painful demise via experimental cosmetic surgery in a dirty, abandoned, Venezuelan fruit stand. Why yes, my dream is to look one-half Beetlejuice. Why didn't you ask me this question sooner? Off the top of my head, I can count about five decent tag teams in the company today. Actually, four is the more accurate number. Don't tell me that Curt Hawkins and Zack Ryder are watchable because I will never believe you. They may be the WWE Tag Team Champions, but do wrestling fans even pay attention to them? One of them wears long tights; the other does not. World Wrestling Entertainment sure does love to develop their tag teams.
What will they do next? Will they make Curt Hawkins grow sideburns? Will they let Zack Ryder carry around a packet of yogurt everywhere he goes so the other wrestlers will know that he is the only man on this planet who publicly eats yogurt?)
This next journal entry is from Jeff Jarrett, one of the many people who will help launch TNA on SpikeTV, October 1st in the year 2005. Personally, I would love to see some competition for the industry sorely needs it. Therefore, best of luck to the company and the network. Spike is really making the case that TNA is THE alternative. More wrestling, you say? I don't even know what that is, but it sounds innovative.
(Total Nonstop Action has come a long way these past few years. Back then, Jeff Jarrett ruled the company as the reigning champion of the National Wrestling Alliance and the unofficial champion of white pants wearers across the galaxy. Fast forward to 2008, I have no clue what is going on during Impact. Who is this guy with the thing? Who is this other guy with the other thing? Why does Kevin Nash appear to be the love child of Los Angeles Lakers Coach Phil Jackson and a cumulous cloud? I couldn't tell you the number of times that I mistook Kevin Nash for an accomplished National Basketball Association coach or a puffy cloud on a overcast afternoon. The number is rather large.)
Dear Diary,
I'm running out of people to attack with silver guitars. I have hit pretty much everybody there is to hit in TNA. So, yesterday, I decided to hit myself with it and the guitar was still intact, except for the part that my head went through. After that, I was wearing the shattered guitar like a neckerchief and everyone was commenting on how great it looked. I saw myself in the mirror at the end of the day and started to shake my head forwards and backwards so it would twirl around like a hula hoop. That was fun, so I'm going to continue to wear it. I don't even need to be NWA World Champion again. I can just wear this instrument on my shoulders for the rest of my career. People will see me on television and want one of their own. The response should be very sweet. I think I want a feud with Samoa Joe in which he's jealous about my neck guitar. Why shouldn't he be? No submission move will win him a neck guitar anytime soon. Plus, fans will be able to hear Don West scream, "He's wearing a guitar, Mike Tenay!" Next, Mike will run down the history of it: "Emanating from Mexico, this guitar has wrestled in the United States, Japan, and many other countries all around the world. He has battled the likes of the Tambourine Kid, Ultimo Kazoo, and the team of Super Piccolo and Xylophone IV." That's Total Nonstop Sweetness right there.
That's N-E-C-K G-U-I-T-A-R,
Jeff Jarrett
(Although I don't follow Japanese professional wrestling, I continue to hear good things about the Tambourine Kid and Ultimo Kazoo. Since the buzz emanates from Japan, the buzz mostly consists of cutesy giggles from shy yet mischievous schoolgirls and early 1990s karaoke songs from creepy, elderly businessmen. I am told that the Tambourine Kid's finisher is a breathtaking top turnbuckle Tiger Driver called "The Tracy Partridge Tambourine Jamboree." I think I love you, Tambourine Kid. Other professional wrestling analysts who are not as fantastic as I am claim that Ultimo Kazoo has a tremendous workrate. In my opinion, Ultimo Kazoo has to have an impressive workrate because he is the last kazoo. Without Ultimo Kazoo, Edge and Christian would not have existed.)
WWE RAW interviewer Maria Kanellis is a charming gal. Judging from what I have seen from her, she seems to be likable enough and the company puts her to reasonably effective use. What I don't understand is her personality off-screen, especially from the words she has written in this diary entry. She comes off as cold and distant. What happened to the Maria whom I adored? You stole her soul, hardcover Hello Kitty notebook; I hate you for it. I hope your pages turn a tan-like yellow and become incredibly dog-eared.
That's right. I said it.
Dearest Diary,
I find this task rudimentary at best.
Respectfully yours,
Maria Kanellis
(Rudimentary is big word for a naked girl. For your mastery of the English language, you shall receive a jelly bean. Sadly, you will receive a black jelly bean. I hope you like your jelly beans how you like your men -- soft and chewy, yet often inedible. Are you sure you want to talk and be distinct from the other naked girls? Wouldn't your job be easier for you if you stood there and said nothing to nobody? Wait, isn't that your job at this moment? Ever since I was a handsome little girl, I wanted to pose for Playboy Magazine, but you know what? I knew I was better than a Playboy Magazine spread. In the end, I posed for North American Fisher Magazine instead. Silver carps were strategically placed on my thirty-three private areas. Match point, Maria. Your move. Ninth down. Fourth period. Bottom of the third.)
At first, John "Bradshaw" Layfield did not strike me as a man who likes to play with Bratz dolls and talk on his candy cell phone. Today, I admit I was in the wrong. I sincerely apologize for this assumption as I have now found out that he is more than a wrestling God. Truly, Bradshaw is a mentor of sorts for people from all walks of life. If I had to guess what influences his way of thought and action, I'd have to say that it could be Farooq. Although, I always thought Farrooq was more of a guy who enjoys making amazing cupcakes in his deluxe Easy Bake Oven. By the way, wasn't that what the A.P.A. was about? I thought beer was just a cover-up for fruit smoothies and the door to their office was built with care and tenderness.
(Deep down, Bradshaw is a pre-teenage girl. You know what JBL did behind the tinted windows of his limousine? Bradshaw, Cody Rhodes, and Ted DiBiase Jr. played People’s Court: Bratz Dolls Edition. In most cases, Jasmin looked to sue Sharidan for unpaid rent, stolen property, or irreparable damages to her whorish appearance. According to my sources, Bradshaw liked to mix it up sometimes. In response, my futures rise just thinking about these wonderful little plays, if you get my Tokyo Drift. Forget those WWE Divas with their stupid hair, faces, eyes, noses, teeth, breasts, arms, legs, torsos, pelvises, butts, and backs. Give me People’s Court: Bratz Dolls Edition any day of the year. Remember, the marquee reads World Wrestling Entertainment, not World Wrestling Swimsuit Competitions Whenever We Feel Like it.)
Dear Diary,
This entry is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. OMG OMG OMG you guyz I had ice cream and it tasted so so good. I luv choco-choco-chocolate oh ya. I'm gonna rename my finish to The Clothesline From Baskin Robbins LOL. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Ew the Good Humor Man tried to git my number. Ew. Whateva. I don't want no scrubs. NO NO NO NO NAH NAH NAH. Ok I'm gonna go roller blade and then I'm gonna go to the mall. Hot pink tights for me and OJ y'all. Hahahahaha I should blade all around the store. Every1 would be like "He's the fastest shopper evar!". OMG so tru. My dog George W. Sprinkles says holla. I love her so much. I keep her in ma lap all the timez haha. Anyway I'm bouncin'. Toodles LOL!!!!!
Luv,
Jizzle B Lizzle
(Fifty years from now, your children's children will read about our time within the pages of scholarly textbooks. Their articulate teacher will lead a discussion regarding reasons as to why the people of 2008 chose to converse in this abbreviated, dumbed-down manner through speech and communicative text. After several hours of intense debate, your children's children will conclude that our generation spent too much time rolling on the floor, laughing in an uncontrollable manner until our posteriors voluntarily detached themselves from our persons. Since we tend to simultaneously lose our knowledge for grammar and spelling and our posteriors on a frequent basis, your children's children will surmise that the human brain has moved from the human head to the human buttocks. Good work, everyone. You have created a disturbing future. Get in the ROFLcopter now if you want to live.)
You might not believe that I received this final entry in the most legal of ways, but I did. For the true believers, I give to you Bret Hart's journal. Now, he does not say much, though what he does say is quite important and informative. Thus, you must read this entry a few times over to comprehend what he's talking about. While I believe that "The Hitman" should be remembered as a legendary wrestler rather than the man caught in the middle of the Montreal Screwjob (Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels were playing hopscotch; Bret cheated), I do not know why he chooses to reveal the truth behind the incident now... in his diary... which I obtained legally... for sure.
(I have expressed my opinion on the Montreal Screwjob before, yet I will reiterate it once more. Shawn Michaels, Vince McMahon, and Earl Hebner did not screw Bret Hart on that fateful November night. In addition, Bret Hart did not screw himself. Out of all parties involved at the 1997 Survivor Series, I blame Milton Bradley's Karate Fighters for the incident. Damn you, Milton Bradley. Get your monkeys out of my barrel. First, you have the nerve to rip off the concept of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. Then, you kick Bret Hart right out of the company with your plastic karate killers. Do not swing your spastic legs at me, Skullcrusher. You have brought great pain to the industry with your-skull crushing ways. You have done enough physical and emotional damage for one night.)
Dear Diary,
My reason for coming back and working on a DVD with Vince McMahon is simple. Maybe Shawn Michaels will never get it, and Earl Hebner too, but I think they'll understand the reason once I reveal it to the public. You see... I did it... for The Rock. I did it... for the people. It's that simple. Nothing more and nothing less. It's not a given that I'll be in Chicago around WrestleMania time, but I do hope to be in the WWE 2006 Hall of Fame with fellow inductees like Randy Savage. Also, Mark Jindrak.
Sincerely,
Bret Hart
(What do you get when you combine Mark Jindrak, a free-standing mirror, and Theodore Long? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. In Swerved City, the official home of this glorious site, Mark Jindrak's narcissist gimmick is the official currency of failure. For only one-hundred Jindrakian narcissist gimmicks, you can bring shame to your immediate and extended families for life. If that gimmick is "The Reflection of Perfection," I vow to be as imperfect as possible. Don't be afraid to chuck Swiss Army Knives at my beautiful, symmetrical face. That gimmick natural born thrills me and natural born kills me. I think Mark Jindrak should drink my expired milk backwash. No offense, Mark Jindrak.)
Monday, July 28, 2008
Conversations with Batman: Master Edgeward
NEXT WEEK
Classics for you.
AND
I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to be the center of attention. I wanted the glory. I wanted the fame. I wanted the pretty girls to come up and say, "Hi, I see that you're good at Centipede."
The Booker: Book Them
Yes, it's that time of the month again. My feminine cramps are cramping. I am hurting bad, but do not fret, World Wrestling Entertainment. On this installment of The Booker, I am going to book like no booker has ever booked before. I am going to book so well that is looks as though I am not booking. Brace yourselves for the sports entertainment experience of the century. Hold on to your hats, or hold on to your seats. What means more to you? Hats or seats? Hats love you unconditionally. Seats looked after your pet when you were away on vacation. Choose wisely.
While I commend the select few who wish to come aboard this extraordinary freight train I call the Super Awesome Floral Arrangement Express, I do question your decision. What are you doing indoors? If you have to take a break from the hilarity that is The Swerved for a week, I don‘t mind. The day is as bright as it can be. We are living in a beautiful world. Are you hurt by the sun by any chance? Tell The Swerved where the sun sensuously massaged you. Honestly, you could be more productive with yourself. To my understanding, summer comes around once per year. You don't need to spend every second with your nineteenth favourite professional wrestling analyst in the Northern Hemisphere. Maybe you should consider finding a more rewarding hobby, such as kite flying or scaring neighbourhood children with your pasty complexion as you saunter across your driveway in a dental floss bikini. Do it. Do it now.
To whomever is left in these trying times, I give a hearty welcome to you and yours. This edition goes out to those who need to be booked and the valiant heroes who have to book them.
Refresher Notes:
- World Wrestling Entertainment has been changed to Swerved Wrestling Entertainment. I don't want Vince McMahon's greedy fingerprints on my tremendous wrestling masterpiece. I think of myself as the Jackson Pollock of the wrestling industry, except I don't accidentally spill paint on a white surface and call it art; I make my masterpieces on purpose.
- Swerved Wrestling Entertainment's humble beginnings originate from the ground floor. For your viewing pleasure, my company dishes out new matches, feuds, interviews, and segments. For example, one wrestler who does not like another wrestler will wrestle that wrestler in a wrestling ring. What's the matter? Is this concept too revolutionary for you?
- Though some aspects of SWE and WWE may be similar, the companies do not exist within the same universe. The WWE Universe is full of rabid wrestling fans who can't get enough of the McMahon family’s adorable shenanigans. In turn, the SWE Universe is full of normal people.
- In SWE, wrestlers designated to one brand do not appear on another brand. Despite what you believe, there is plenty of Mike Knox to go around.
- Take a gander at the archive section of The Swerved for previous installments of The Booker. Use the search term "creative perfection" and you will find them. - Each monthly installment of The Booker concludes with that month’s Pay-Per-View. With that said, I cannot do this series forever. Eventually, I will have to pull the plug. I do not want you to think that WWE is capable of entertaining you this much. They have trouble understanding my English. Due to a crippling fear of laces, they still wear Velcro shoes.
July 28, 2008
Presented by Mick Foley's fringe leather jacket. Mick Foley’s fringe leather jacket: Davy Crockett Tested. Davy Crockett Approved.
SWE Championship Match
William Regal (c) vs. John Cena
World Heavyweight Championship Match
Undertaker (c) vs. Umaga
SWE United States Championship Match
MVP (c) vs. Shawn Michaels
Match for the Vacant World Tag Team Championship
Cryme Tyme vs. LAX
ECW Championship Triple Threat Match
Samoa Joe (c) vs. AJ Styles vs. Jeff Hardy
Best-of-Seven Series for the Vacant SWE Tag Team Championship: Match 1
Paul London and Brian Kendrick vs. Shannon Moore and Jimmy Wang Yang
Chris Jericho vs. Rey Mysterio
Big Show vs. Edge
- Lance Cade is still in rehab with an alcohol problem. He is rehabbing the wrong way. You do not stop drinking alcohol by drinking alcohol.
- In the ring, William Regal, the new SWE Champion and King of Everything Kingly, sits victorious on his throne. He requests the lowly peasants to be silent. In response, the WWE audience jeers him for they are low income trailer trash, not lowly peasants. Get it right next time. Regal announces that he has vanquished the mighty Triple H and brought an end to all sledgehammer production and distribution practices under the ring. He summons Katie Lea and Paul Burchill to ring. Regal honours Katie Lea with a tiara and places a bejeweled crown on Paul's head. As Katie and Paul stand proud, Regal demands the crowd to bow down before his kingdom. In conclusion, Katie Lea and Paul Burchill are the Peach and Luigi to William Regal's Mario Mario. If you ask nicely, they will celebrate this new alliance through driving various carts shaped like baby carriages. If you ask nicely again, they will shoot turtle shells at each other. It's-a me, cartoon vehicular manslaughter.
- Backstage, John Cena confronts the newly appointed prince and princess. Cena pokes fun at Burchill by putting on a Burger King Crown. You are no Burger King, Jonathan Cena. You are not even the lovable drunk of Falafel Town. Cena tells Burchill that Regal's destruction of Triple H was impressive, but his reign won't last for long. In reply, Paul Burchill breaks an overhead brick with his head and obtains a Fire Flower. He throws fireballs at Cena to make him go away. Good work.
- Several minutes late, Chris Jericho arrives at the building. Wrestlers are often truant, yet the world loves them. Most of the fan admiration for Jericho stems from his need to wear sparkly vests and clothesline long distance runners. If I was to enter a dentist's office two weeks late, no one would cheer me. The dentist would berate me for my choice to devour a whole bag of Oreos without brushing.
- On a special edition of the Highlight Reel, Chris Jericho speaks of Rey Mysterio's biggest accomplishments. Rey Mysterio is a former World Heavyweight Champion, a former SWE Tag Team Champion, a multiple-time Cruiserweight Champion in WCW and SWE, and a Mexican. Mysterio usually forgets that last accomplishment. Thus, he had to tattoo that tidbit on this abdomen. My abdominal tattoo reminds me to eat food everyday. If I don't eat food, I will not eat food. Jericho brings out Mysterio to a thunderous ovation. Rey thanks everyone for their support and encouragement over the years. He claims that the best is yet to come. He is right because Jericho smashes an official Highlight Reel stool over his head and storms out of the ring. Masked children everywhere are scared, angry, frustrated, sad, or happy. I cannot tell because they are wearing masks.
- Grey curtain promo time, kids. Natalya, the SWE Women's Champion, cackles at the failure that is Mickie James. In a sarcastic manner, Natalya inquires about the condition of Mickie's back. Whenever Mickie is ready to fight her, Natalya will make sure to finish the job. Jim Neidhart must be proud that his daughter dislikes efficient chiropractic procedures.
- Your Lord and Saviour Jack Korpela interviews Cryme Tyme about their upcoming parking lot confrontation with LAX. Shad tells Homicide and Hernandez that Cryme Tyme is out for blood. Red Cross represent. What's up, my donors? A limping JTG declares war on the Latin American Xchange. Many wars have been fought in parking lots. Some wars have been fought in two-storey parking garages. According to a few history books, one Spanish-American War was fought in a parking space for small vehicles only. I predict that this war will be the most famous one.
- In the parking lot, LAX jump Shad and JTG. Man, LAX are ghetto ninjas. They ram Shad into the side of a truck, then slam a car door against JTG's shin cast. For your health and safety, JTG, stop rolling up your pant legs. Better yet, wear pants made out of titanium for extra protection. Homicide and Hernandez drape the Cuban flag over Cryme Tyme's lifeless bodies.
- Once more, William Regal sits on his throne with the SWE Championship around his waist. With Prince Paul to the left of him and Princess Katie Lea to the right, Regal listens in on the Triple H chants which echo throughout the arena. In reply, he screams that Hunter is no more, but the fans do not seem to care. As long as he is the King of WWE, Regal stresses that Triple H will not usurp him. To the fans' dismay, William Regal begins to read a list of goals that he plans to accomplish as king. For one, Regal promises that Prince Paul and Princess Katie Lea will be champions. Next, Regal tells the audience that Hunter's name shall never be uttered again. If someone references Hunter, Regal will make sure that man, woman, or child never speaks again. As Regal proceeds, John Cena appears and attacks the King of WWE on his throne. Before he can inflict significant damage on Regal, Burchill lays waste to Cena with a neckbreaker. Cena should have waited for a little bit longer. Regal may have granted John unlimited use of his royal snow cone machine or something.
- Your Lord and Saviour Jack Korpela interviews Chris Jericho about his attack on Rey Mysterio. Jericho is not too happy with Mysterio's move to RAW. He does not want one of Smackdown's biggest superstars to take over his show. After all, RAW is Jericho. He urges Rey to take his masked self back to Fridays where he belongs. Correction, Y2J. Mysterio belongs back in WCW circa 1999, sporting devil horns and suspenders. Apparently, the Devil is a twelve-year-old child whose favourite clothing brand is OshKosh B'Gosh.
- A video hypes the feud between LAX and Cryme Tyme. JTG should return with a bionic shin.
- The Latin American Xchange show up in a grey curtain interview to brag about their one-upmanship of Cryme Tyme. Hernandez informs Cryme Tyme that they don't know the streets from the suburbs. Homicide chimes to mention Shad and JTG's love for gold. If they love gold so much, LAX wants to challenge them to a match for some golden goodness. To twist the knife further, Hernandez and Homicide chant "Money, money. Yeah, yeah." For the record, I would not take LAX seriously in this type of promo, but they are wearing Cuban flags as capes. Therefore, I must take accept their words as factual. Anyone who wears a cape has merit.
- Backstage, SWE Women's Champion Natalya talks strategy with Beth Phoenix for their upcoming tag team match. Natalya and Beth in the same room may be confusing for some, but not for me. Natalya is the one with female body parts. See what I did there? Give me medals for being smart. I will wear them so people will know I am smart.
- To promote himself as Intercontinental Champion, Ken Kennedy proves that is a worthy title holder. He tells the audience that CM Punk is not a proud North American, South American, African, European, Australian, Antarctican, or Asian like himself. In a video montage, Kennedy travels across each continent by standing in place while a map of the world scrolls behind him. Kennedy concludes the segment by kissing a baby from all seven continents. You know what? I'm sold. Your method of walking in place is quite intercontinental of you.
- Your Lord and Saviour Jack Korpela interviews CM Punk about Kennedy's antics. Punk apologizes to Ken for his own misbehaviour. The next time they meet, Punk will simply take the title from him like a man. Well, can you walk in place in an intercontinental manner? I don't think so.
- John Cena starts off this edition of Monday Night RAW by flailing his arms and saluting nobody in particular. If John Triton flailed his arms and saluted nobody in particular in The Marine, maybe Kate Triton would not have been kidnapped by T-1000. I would never let my lady friend get kidnapped by a liquid silver cop. He is liquid, silver, and a cop -- two of three things I am not. Cena wastes no time to challenge Regal to a match. When Hunter's theme plays, the crowd goes ballistic, only to be disappointed by the arrival of the king. Regal laughs at the fans' stupidity, then accepts the challenge for the upcoming Pay-Per-View. For tonight, Regal advises Cena to find a tag partner who is worthy to compete in a match with the King of SWE. Sadly, T-1000 is not eligible. He is liquid, silver, and a cop.
- Your Lord and Saviour Jack Korpela interviews Intercontinental Champion Mr. Kennedy. With his head wrapped in gauze, Ken admits to CM Punk that he will unable to defend his coveted title for the next few weeks. Kennedy blames his head wound on Punk’s microphonic brutality. In his current state, Mr. Kennedy is the Caucasian equivalent to Hadji from Jonny Quest. That is all.
- In the dark shadows of a hospital room, Cryme Tyme lick their wounds. Shad raises his voice and tells LAX that they will have their vengeance. To fill the void that Cryme Tyme left for SWE, I am selling stolen vengeance for a hundred dollars. On crutches, JTG declares that they will show Homicide and Hernandez how they do it in the streets at the Pay-Per-View. Wait, how do they do it in the streets? On my old neighbour street, fun loving criminals played Jacks.
- Chris Jericho walks down the hallway to the ring. I will never become a professional wrestler. I despise hallways. Don’t get me started on tunnels.
- On tonight’s Highlight Reel, Y2J repeats that RAW is Jericho. Rey Mysterio never defeated The Rock and Steve Austin in one night. Rey Mysterio was not the first Undisputed Champion. Rey Mysterio never unmasked Juventud Guerrera, which then unleashed the legend of The Juice upon the world. If Mysterio wants to be on RAW, he must go through Jericho first. Straight from the crowd, Mysterio runs in and knocks Jericho out of his own segment with a springboard dropkick. Wait until the juicy, juicy, juicy Juice hears about this one. He will say something incomprehensible and juicy.
- Your Lord and Saviour Jack Korpela interviews Rey Mysterio. The masked one (Rey Mysterio, not Jack Korpela, who wears a mask of emotionless sorrow) tells Y2J that RAW may be Jericho, but SWE is Mysterio. Whatever lets you sleep with a mask on at night, Rey.
- In the backstage area, Santino compliments Deuce and Domino's retro ride. Initially, they are flattered. One moment later, Santino spits on their automobile and declares his love for Italian scooters. I am right with you. Only the ritziest poor people drive Italian scooters. High class.
- CM Punk prepares for his rematch against Mr. Kennedy with several sips of Pepsi. What a hardcore druggie. To set a good example for the kids, I drink from unmarked bottles under my sink. I am worldly like that.
- Your Lord and Saviour Jack Korpela interviews Mr. Kennedy, who scurries out of the arena in his ring gear. Ken informs Korpela that he's still not ready to defend his Intercontinental Title. Six out of seven continents do not approve of Ken's cowardice.
- Chris Jericho speaks with Charlie Haas to give him pointers against Rey Mysterio. Haas says, "I will beat his ass real good a whole lot." In his spare time, which is plentiful because Heat is defunct, Charlie Haas is a wordsmith.
- LAX utilize the versatile grey curtain promo to send a Get Well Soon video to Shad and JTG of Cryme Tyme. Homicide and Hernandez encourage the audience to send in their videos, too. The Cryme Tyme is now.
- One minute prior to the main event, Regal and Burchill sneak attack Jerry Lawler at the top of the ramp. Katie Lea gets some shots in with her new scepter. Princesses prefer brawling over technical wrestling. John Cena sprints to the ring to even the score.
- In the final segment of the show, a shrouded figure addresses King William Regal with sledgehammer in hand. The familiar voice says, "The kingdom is about to crumble." Is that you, X-Factor-era X-Pac?
Triple H vs. William Regal: 89%
CM Punk vs. Mr. Kennedy: 89%
LAX vs. Cryme Tyme: 86%
Mickie James vs. Natalya: 48%
- Human beings exist.
- Umaga wanders to the ring in search of the Undertaker. He holds up his Samoan thumb to the sky and screams. Over the speaker system, he hears the Undertaker’s druids chant a haunting song. The druids kissed a girl. And they liked it. Umaga stomps around ringside and finds a fan dressed like the Ministry version of the Undertaker. He stares at the man, then beats him senseless. Umaga doesn't care for the goths. Every time he passes Hot Topic, he shakes his head in disappointment.
- In a grey curtain interview, Jamie Noble calls for peace between himself, The Great Khali, and Vladimir Kozlov. While they come from different worlds, they are one in the same. Jamie is right, you know. If I burn my retinas with lava hot branding irons, the three of you kind of look alike in the facial region.
- London and Kendrick argue with Shannon Moore and Jimmy Wang Yang in the locker room. Because they are giant men, the gargantuan that is Funaki stands between the two teams. Somebody is on the horse steroids.
- Maria interviews Batista regarding rumours of a new member of the Smackdown roster. Batista admits that he could use new competition. Look, nobody wants to face you and your imaginary machine gun. In my closet, I have an imaginary bazooka, but you don't see me using it in a careless fashion. Stop wasting your imaginary machine gun bullets.
- Ken Doane and Johnny Jeter, also known as The Cobras, present their next instructional video. This time, they relay tips on self-defense. Ken Doane insists that when you are confronted by a thief, you must defend yourself by placing a female in front of you. If the thief tries to attack you with a blunt object, employing a helpless woman as a shield will protect yourself from brunt of the blow. Next, Johnny Jeter advises children on personal safety. If a strange man tries to lure you into his white van with a bag of candy, get a friend or younger sibling to obtain the candy for you. To cap off the segment, Doane and Jeter urge you to refrain from premarital relations. They could have told me sooner. Now I must return my "Premarital Relations" pennant.
- Backstage, Montel Vontavious Porter speaks with Smackdown General Manager Vickie Guerrero. MVP wants Vickie to ban Shawn Michaels' Superkick because the move endangers all. He reminds her that the Superkick took out one of Smackdown's finest referees -- that guy with the hair. After serious consideration of Porter’s proposal, Vickie declares that starting tonight in Shawn's match against Chavo Guerrero, his Superkick will be banned. Why, lady? Sure, Shawn Michaels pays for his restaurant meals with Superkicks, but that's why the move is cool. The Superkick exchange rate is decent at worst.
- With his HBK brand straw hat, Shawn Michaels marches down the backstage hallway and encounters an ecstatic MVP. With a smile on his Porterian face, MVP wishes Shawn the best of luck in his match tonight. While Porter shines his United States Championship belt, Shawn slaps him in the face. Watch out, Shawn. The Superslap may be banned next.
- In Vickie Guerrero's general managing office, the team of London and Kendrick and Moore and Yang cannot stop arguing. Finally, Vickie shuts them up by announcing her plans for the SWE Tag Team Championship. In a best-of-seven series between the two teams, the team that can win four matches will win the belts. Pleased by the news, Paul London and Brian Kendrick perform a jig. Meanwhile, Shannon Moore and Jimmy Wang Yang do-si-do. Vickie stresses that she does not tolerate old-timey celebratory reactions in her office. Why not, Vickie? Your announcement is the cat's pyjamas.
- Hornswoggle and Finlay share a father-son moment in the hallway. Remember when I was a little person in a leprechaun costume and you were an Irish brawler without feeling in one of your legs, father? Good times, great memories. Hornswoggle's breaks his stride. He stares down at the enormous shadow in front of him. When he looks up, Umaga snarls. Finlay attempts to communicate to Umaga that they have no problem with him. The Samoan Bulldozer reacts to Finlay's civility with violent fisticuffs. Finlay welcomes the fight before various SWE offices break them up. Do you remember when you fought against the employed half of Three Minute Warning, father?
- Maria interviews SWE United States Champion MVP. She mistakenly names him the Most Valuable Primate. That primate sure can skateboard. Porter confirms that Shawn Michaels' Sweet Chin Music is banned from the squared circle. Without Shawn's most effective weapon in his arsenal, Porter asks Maria what HBK has left. Maria does not have an answer because she is dead as a character on the inside.
- The Cobras come at you with another informative instructional video. Ken Doane teaches how television viewers can use household items as deadly weapons. Doane demonstrates this notion by throwing an entire couch at a couple of unsuspecting burglars. Outside the home, Johnny Jeter explains that items in the wilder can be an asset to a fighter. He shows this notion at work by building an entire couch out of wood, then throwing that couch at a couple of unsuspecting wilderness burglars. You will not steal this mound of peat moss. At the conclusion of the video, Doane and Jeter announce that they are coming to Smackdown in three weeks. In addition, they stress the importance of recycling. When karate masters turn in their empty bottles to the local depot, they receive five cents more than the average person. It pays to be green.
- Chavo pleads with Vickie Guerrero to cancel Bam Neely's rematch against the Big Show. Vickie informs Chavo that she is a fair general manager. Therefore, the match will not be cancelled. With that said, Vickie tells them that neither Chavo nor Bam will be harmed. I knew it all along. Vickie Guerrero will cover Chavo Guerrero and Bam Neely in helmets and bubble wrap.
- In the back, Big Show exercises his hand for a chokeslamming. Put a few slivers of low fat butter on those skillets.
- Edge arrives at the arena. Edge is an hour and a half late to the show. Plus, he has no last name. I do not trust him two times over.
- Vickie Guerrero gathers up La Familia and treats them to an encouraging speech. Due to the size difference, Edge doesn't think he should or needs to take on the Big Show. Vickie stresses that the Big Show is bald. Hair often factors into a person’s estimated height, so Big Show is not as big as Edge believes him to be. Edge is somewhat pleased.
- In the locker room, Shannon Moore and Jimmy Wang Yang react to the match. What? The match is done. They have horrible reaction time.
- In The Cobras' final instructional video, Ken Doane and Johnny Jeter discuss experimental methods to increase your self-confidence. Doane informs viewers that they will feel about themselves by sucker punching somebody weaker than them. During this segment, Doane suggests that an elderly person on a respirator might do the trick. Johnny Jeter chimes in to state that viewers should try new things, such as sparring in the dark with a grizzly bear. I forget the last time that I sparred with a bear, let alone one in grizzly form. Doane and Jeter introduce their motto: “To be a Cobra, you must fight like a cobra, think like a cobra, and love like a cobra.” Check, check, check. Before they bid farewell, The Cobras claim that reading is essential. If you want to love like a cobra, reading is key.
- Batista stares at the big high-definition Titantron above the entranceway. The screen plays a mysterious, epileptic hype video. Who could this be? The strobes, the strobes. I don't know where I am. My brain is melting.
- In front of the grey curtain, Shawn Michaels sends a message to Montel Vontavious Porter. He may not have Sweet Chin Music, but he still has his fists. No kidding, Shawn. I don't have my fists anymore, yet I have two Sweet Chin Musics for hands. Michaels tells Porter that he will see him at the Pay-Per-View.
- Backstage, The Great Khali and Vladimir Kozlov engage in a heated discussion. Khali tells Kozlov that Noble is a stand-up guy who deserves their friendship. Kozlov refutes Khali's opinion and doubts Jamie Noble's good nature. Come on, already. Noble used to have a cousin in Nunzio, but then he didn't. Noble can't even hold on to his family members. Why must you punish him further?
- Umaga cannot bottle his Samoan rage anymore. With the urn in his hands, he tries to break it. Before he can do so, Undertaker's theme plays. Umaga throws the urn to the canvas and circles the ring in search of the Deadman. When he returns to the center, an Undertaker-y hand breaks through the canvas and grabs Umaga by the leg. With the might of one undead living zombie thing, the hand pulls Umaga into the grimy depths of the wrestling ring underworld, which is appromixately three feet tall in height. What a tiny underworld. I've seen better. Am I correct, Kansas?
- Vickie Guerrero informs La Familia that one member must wrestle the Big Show to soften the big man up for Edge at the Pay-Per-View. The R Rated Superstar himself shows his smarts by claiming that he just ate a large sandwich and cannot wrestle or swim tonight because he is still full. Bam Neely reminds the group that his name rhymes with NHL hockey legend Cam Neely of the Boston Bruins, so he is automatically exempt from competing. Since Hawkins and Ryder were majorly released from SWE, Chavo Guerrero is the only man left. Out of all members of La Familia, Chavo Guerrero resembles the Pringles guy the best.
- Maria interviews Jamie Noble. He apologizes to The Great Khali and Vladimir Kozlov and promises that he will never bother them again. With a slow shuffle of his feet, he walks away, head low to the ground. Somebody take this boy to McDonald's. Get him a Happy Meal. This month is Hot Wheels month.
- Batista hangs around the locker room and discovers an Evolution t-shirt on the floor. How did he do that? Batista's gigantic arm veins have taken him back to the year 2004. This line in the sand is sandy.
- MVP, the SWE United States Champion, shows up backstage to sign autographs for his adoring backstage fans. He announces to the crowd that he plans to take out Shawn Michaels tonight before he takes him out at the Pay-Per-View. Montel Vontavious Porter is the highest paid superstar on the Smackdown roster because professional wrestling makes zero sense.
- In anticipation for Ken Doane and Johnny Jeter’s tag team debut, SWE treats its loyal viewers to The Cobras' entrance video. Doane and Jeter chop, kick, and thrust baddies to a knockoff version of Joe Esposito's "You're The Best Around." The theme is called "You're Pretty Good Against Men Without Limbs." Cheers.
- A disoriented Umaga staggers to the ring for his match. Umaga stares at his hands. In his mind, he wants to know whether his fingers are actual fingers or sausages. He cannot tell because he is woozy.
- In a special cemetery promo, the Undertaker urges the Samoan Bulldozer to rest in peace. Don't worry. The grey curtain found its way to the cemetery. The Undertaker gives quality directions.
Undertaker vs. Umaga: 87%
MVP vs. Shawn Michaels: 85%
Paul London and Brian Kendrick vs. Jimmy Wang Yang and Shannon Moore: 59%
- Colin Delaney is in pain again.
- Disco Inferno, the Extreme Championship Wrestling General Manager, introduces the new champion. As Samoa Joe walks down the ramp, Disco dances to music under the shine of the extreme mirror ball. In the ring, Samoa Joe waits for Disco to stop dancing. Eventually, Joe gets Disco to cut the music by threatening him with some jazz. He acquires an upright bass to the fans' amazement. Of course, Disco sprints out of the ring. I may be afraid of heights, but jazz music makes me mess my pantaloons in fright. Samoa Joe calls himself "The Samoan Submission Machine" to a brand new audience. While most wrestling fans understand the name, others believe that he is an actual machine. One fan attempts to submit some of his hard earned money into Joe. He puts a dollar in Joe's mouth for a bag of Fritos. When that fan does not receive the bag, Joe kills him. From the back, John Morrison and The Miz appear to run down the champion. The Miz challenges Joe to a match for the title later tonight. Joe accepts, then coughs up a bag of Fritos to eat. You sly fox, you.
- On his Disco Phone, Disco Inferno brags about his newest acquisition. In the history of general managers, Disco is the most general.
- With the extreme grey curtain behind him, AJ Styles claims that he will become the ECW Champion more sooner than later. What AJ does not know is that wrestlers who desire to become ECW Champions more sooner than later are rather popular with the gay community.
- In the ring, Disco Inferno announces to the public that the newest member of the roster will debut tonight. For his second order of business, Disco calls out the ECW Champion. Once Samoa Joe shows up, Disco informs him that the new ECW acquisition will be his tag partner in the main event. Joe tells Disco that he does not need a tag partner. In response, Disco informs Joe that he has two choices: have a tag partner or disco dance for the masses. Samoa Joe decides to welcome his tag partner with open arms. Aw, nuts and or bolts. In my dreams and yours, Samoa Joe is an elegant dancing queen.
- Big Daddy V and Matt Striker bow down to the Pope Todd Grisham before they berate Matt Sydal and Kelly Kelly. Big Daddy V curses them and their All-American good looks. V desires hip clothing. He wants to model boxer shorts near a lake with five other half-naked men. No fair.
- Backstage, The Miz asks John Morrison if he has his back. While he is reluctant to answer, John assures Miz that he supports him. John Morrison sports the Rachel Green haircut. He doesn't need to have anyone's back.
- In the first segment, Samoa Joe confronts Jeff Hardy. Joe says that he doesn't need or want any help for he will be the ECW Champion for a long, long time. Jeff Hardy replies that he did not come to ECW to help anyone. When Joe inquires about his true desires, Jeff stares at the title. I know what Jeff wants. He wants to face Mike Knox. Everybody does.
-While Sydal and Kelly walk up the ramp, Big Daddy V and Matt Striker greet them via grey curtain promo on the Titantron. They warn Matt Sydal and Kelly Kelly of their ultimate doom. Shooting Star Press wishes are faulty.
- Backstage, The Boogeyman offers Kane some worms. You are working for a lost cause. Big Red Machines are fruitarians.
- Disco Inferno requests the company of one Jeff Hardy. The fans dig Jeffrey's grand entrance and rock on with their hole-infested arm sleeves. Unfortunately, they do not react to AJ Styles' sudden appearance well. Styles asks Disco for a rematch against Samoa Joe. He is taken aback when Disco informs him that he must win tonight's match to gain a shot at the ECW Champion. To his surprise, Jeff Hardy will be AJ's opponent. To the victor goes the gay community.
- All by her lonesome, Big Daddy V and Matt Striker corner Kelly Kelly. V grabs her by the hair and drags her down the ramp. Just as Big Daddy V is about to hit Kelly with Matt Striker's scholarly ruler, Matt Sydal leaps from the top turnbuckle and bashes him over the head with a steel chair. Sydal and Kelly use their All-American quickness to flee. They are safe to model fitted jeans on a black-and-white ranch for another day.
- Disco Inferno flicks the arena lights off and on to stop them from fighting. Since a number one contender has not been decided, Joe must defend his ECW Championship against Jeff Hardy and AJ Styles. How convenient. This match involves sacrificial, glorious road justice.
Samoa Joe vs. AJ Styles: 87%
Can Triple H dethrone King Regal? Who is the newest member of Friday Night Smackdown? What can't Big Daddy V let Sydal and Kelly model swimwear under a waterfall in peace? All these questions and more will either be answered or further questioned in the next installment of The Booker.
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Swerved Presents: Dream Match the 46th
Yeah
You can't help but ride me before you graduate
Can't help but wear corsages and cummerbunds in this one
Uh-huh, yeah
Excuse me for a second while the driver opens the door
This isn't his first gig, he's driven kids to proms before, yeah
Don't mind the driver's silence, he just thinks you're a bore
You think you're all cool cause you're dressed as a classy whore, uh-huh
Before he leaves the curb, your parents better take another group photo
Leave the ugly friend to the side who has to attend solo
This moment is one that's made to be on the mantle
Next to your perfect attendance certificate, this moment holds no candle
Today you're glamorous, you must be a princess
Tomorrow you'll be pregnant, Maury can I get a witness?
This one is for John C. and his motor vehicle brutality
You can't see me run you over in an dark, deserted street
Right now, I'm about to roll to the swank party
I think I saw your biggest fan on the way, he failed to get his GED
Call the cops, you better tell them that I'm looking for the kill
If I don't waste you, John, a stretch Hummer will
The Question:
Who wins and how?
*****
NEXT WEEK
Oh, book what you've done. You've made a fool of everyone.
AND
The world will look up and shout, "Save us," and I will whisper... "No."
The Sad World
Before I present this week's piece, let me tell you a little story. Now that I think about it, perhaps this story is not as little as it seems. You see, I take pride in my work. As much as I am an entertainer, I am an informative teller of brutal, hard-hitting facts. In the professional wrestling industry, I weed through the milk chocolate lies in order to get to the creamy nougat truth. At the end of day, I take a celebratory bite from that scrumptious bar of honesty with the knowledge that I making the wrestling world a better place. Due to my tireless effort to discover the truth, some people claim that I am the Murder and Scully of professional wrestling analysis. Also like Murder and Scully, the sexual tension between myself and I is quite apparent yet never addressed, but that is another tale for another time.
In my most recent search for truth, I risked my life to answer the biggest wrestling question of all. With nothing but the clothes on my sexy back, I engaged in battle against Mother Nature's deadliest obstacles. I ran through frozen tundra without shoes. I wore a suit made out of bacon for some reason and swung from brittle vine to vine over crocodile-infested swamps. Finally, I crawled over dry desert hills as the hot sand burnt my sculptured, statuesque body. A curse on the man who invented the sun. Two curses on the man who made the sun hot. You have scarred twelve of my twenty-four abdominal muscles.
As I prepared my charred self for a possible desert burial, a massive mountain appeared in the distance as a beacon of hope, a signal of life. With newfound strength, I pulled myself through the blistering sands towards that very mountain. Inch by inch, I climbed the steep, jagged face to the summit. At the top, I gasped for air and cursed the skies with a furious shake of my fists. "Why must I ascend this mountain? I am not going for a world record. I am not in a vacation commercial to promote the rugged lands of Arizona," I said.
After I yelled and screamed at the clouds above, I felt the ground rumble beneath me. When I attempted to scramble from the summit, the ground split into two. Up from the soil emerged a behemoth man with a glowing staff in his mighty hand. He looked down upon me, stroked his lengthy white beard, then pointed his narrow finger in my direction.
"Who goes there? Who disturbs the sleep of Pandlordor, the God of All Knowing?" he said, with a booming voice that echoed throughout the plains.
With a frightened stutter in my voice, I said, "Sup? What's crackalacking, good sir?"
"What is it that you desire? Say it now or let the lone desert wolves devour your shivering tongue."
I was not sure what to do next. Do I ask him the question? Do I compliment his hair or something? Do I bargain with the wolves to keep my tongue? I need my tongue for later. As I tried to figure out my next move, the God of All Knowing made the decision for me.
"I know all. So, I know what you wish. Do not waste the time of Pandlordor, the God of All Knowing. Ask your question and you shall receive your answer."
I pushed my exhausted body off the ground. Despite significant pain, I stood tall and made eye contact with the God of All Knowing. His eyes shined rays of sparkling gold on the dusty surface below.
"God of All Knowing; I present to you a great query -- why is Jim Duggan so sad? Sure, Ted DiBiase and Cody Rhodes were mean to him, but not that mean. I am afraid. I cannot stand the sadness in his eyes. Tell me why he is so."
The God of All Knowing massaged his mighty temple and said, "This man you speak of must be sad. He must never be happy again."
"Why? Why must you put him through such hardship?"
With a gentle sigh, he said, "This man you speak of must be sad. His cascading tears power my cellular phone. I have infinite evening minutes. I strive to use every single one. I am the Pandlordor, the God of All Knowing. It has been done."
In reply, I scratched my head with a confused expression. I said, "Hold the cellular phone with infinite evening minutes for a second. You power your phone with a grown man's eye water? Where did you buy that phone anyway?"
After a depressed sigh, the God of Knowledge said, "Silence! You will not speak ill of my mobile communication decisions. Take a gander at the topographical features of this land. Does this mountain look like an ideal place for an Apple store to you? I do not think so. I will work with what I have, thank you very much. I am Pandlordor, the God of All Knowing. Pandlordor out."
As he attempted to sink back into the earth, I kicked his glowing staff right out of his hand. When the staff fell and broken into shards, the God of All Knowing slammed his fists to the ground in anger. I was frightened, but refused to back down.
"So, you're just going to stand there and let Jim Duggan be sad? By the way, have you ever heard of a cell phone charger? And you call yourself the God of All Knowing."
Without hesitation, the God of All Knowing guffawed at my comment.
"You slay me, mere mortal. Uh yes, I do call myself the God of All Knowing. Do you have a problem with that? What are you going to do about it, home slice?
I clenched my fist and wagged my finger back at him. No, I did not think so, girlfriendly God.
"From this day forward, I vow that Jim Duggan will never be sad again. If it takes me my entire life to make him happy, so be it. Say goodbye to your precious evening minutes, Foolmaster General."
1. For Hacksaw, I will stage a hand shadow puppet show in which I will recreate historic moments from his memorable World Championship Wrestling run as an American member of Lance Storm's Team Canada. Due to my amazing shadow puppet skills, we will have to pretend that the entire team was composed of a bunny rabbit, a bird in flight, a barking dog in flight, and an Elix Skipper in flight. Remember the day when the barking dog in flight won the Saskatchewan Hardcore International Title? That was a day, alright.
2. Since Duggan is a connoisseur of the finest arts, I will change the depressing ending to William Shakespeare's Hamlet to a happier one. In my version of the play, the characters do not succumb to an unfortunate, bloody end; rather, King Hamlet revives himself and buys a Nintendo 64 for everyone. Hamlet and Claudius will play GoldenEye for eight hours straight.
3. I will cover the entire planet in gymnasiums. If you do not wear gym shorts like Jim Duggan, you will be unable run pointless laps around the gym while an alcoholic gym teacher sits on the sidelines, holding a coffee pot in one hand while he shoves the other hand down his pants.
4. This Halloween, I will volunteer to be the back end of a two-man horse costume. Together, Hacksaw and I will win the Triple Crown, promote Budweiser, and capture Troy.
5. I will whip up a batch of my world famous cookies. I will let Jim Duggan add important ingredients like chocolate chips, M&Ms, and shame. When the batter is ready, he will get to lick the bowl and the spoon. Lucky.
6. For Jim, I will carry around a 2x4 as well. When we appear in public, we will look like two confused, shirtless construction workers without a site to construct. "Have you seen that place with a lot of hammers and nails that have yet to be hammered? You haven't? Oh well. Let's keep looking, Hacksaw."
7. To show my sweet liberty love for the United States of America, I will take a curling iron to the American flag to make it more wavy, luscious, and manageable. Why? Because she's worth it. Am I right, ladies?
8. To sympathize with Hacksaw, I will learn to live as a hacksaw. I will turn myself into a fine-toothed blade, then cut down various metals and bones. Goodbye, good night, and good luck, family and friends. I am off to do the Lord's work -- cutting a bunch of stuff with sharp things.
9. To honour Duggan's victory in the first ever Royal Rumble match in World Wrestling Federation and Entertainment history, I will throw 28 royal family members from England up and over the top rope. Because I can only throw 28 royal family members from England up and over the top rope, I will have to defeat Queen Elizabeth II via submission.
10. I will buy Jim Duggan a bottle of Castrol GTX. I want Hacksaw to stop sludge in its tracks with superior sludge protection. If he tries to stop sludge in its tracks with inferior sludge protection, we will relive the Great Depression.
11. I will have a word with Ted DiBiase Sr. concerning the questionable behaviour of one Ted DiBiase Jr. Once Ted Senior learns about his son's deplorable actions, he will immediately take away his Randy Orton haircut and face privileges. Dagnabbit, Ted Jr. Look like a man who hires an African-American servant for a change. Right now, you look like man who hires an Puerto Rican pool boy.
12. To modernize Jim Duggan for this millennium and many millennia to come, I will make him transform his "Hooooooo!" chant to one that is both accurate and politically correct. Get ready wrestling fans. Clear your throat, sip a glass of water, then clear your throat again. In a few weeks, let the "Professional Promiscuous Cohabitant of a Rather Sexual Persuasion in the Hours Pertaining to Moonlight!" chants begin.
13. I will clear up Cody Rhodes' suggested retail price. Going into the holiday season, Cody Rhodes will not be as priceless as Ted DiBiase Jr. He will $56.99, not including taxes. Of course, consumers will find a more affordable price at Wal-Mart. They've got it all.
14. I will take all young, arrogant newcomers in the professional wrestling business to the Old School. At that Old School, they will learn that hand-pulled taffy is more delicious than machine-pulled taffy. In addition, they will discover that the world is flat and entirely Caucasian. Other lessons will teach students that women cannot vote because they are not human and if you encounter a howling dog in the spring, your next baby will become a three-headed, fire-breathing witch.
15. Inside sources tell me that Jim Duggan is not a fan of vowels. With this knowledge in mind, I will single-handedly alter the English language writing system to make U, S, A, and Y the only vowels in the alphabet. Why can't I get rid of Y, you ask? As the greatest professional wrestling analyst alive today, I may have power, but I'm not that powerful. I'm not a scientist. I don’t know how to read. Give me a break.
16. In the park, I will blow bubbles. Then, I will challenge Jim Duggan to catch them. This is what tough guys do when they're not racing cars or wearing each other’s pants.
17. With my guidance, Hacksaw will make a list of everyone and everything that makes him sad. Once he is finished with that list, we will visit dark alleys and fight malnutritioned hobos for their discarded sandwich halves with broken plastic forks. You don't even like egg salad, No Briefs Chauncy.
18. For one night only, I will cook Jim Duggan breakfast food for dinner. While I'm not positive that Hacksaw enjoys the breakfast foods that I enjoy, I am optimistic. I hope you like eating a cold Denny's Grand Slam, served to you on a naked lady who really needs the money.
19. I will let Jim Duggan soak in my bathtub while he listens to his favourite tunes. Since I don't have a stereo system, I will be forced to sit at the other end of the tub, sing James Blunt songs, and shower Duggan with strawberry-scented bath salts.
20. I will hide my face behind my hands. When Jim Duggan appears confused, I will reveal my face behind my hands. The surprise will make him giggle. For the second time, I will hide my face behind my hands. When Jim Duggan gets scared, I will reveal my face behind my hands. The surprise will make him applaud with delight. I will repeat this trick until the end of time.
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