SS49–In AWE of AEW

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Because every online wrestling “expert” has assured us All Elite Wrestling is going to “change the world,” drive the WWE right out of business and reverse climate change–even though the man in charge and his growing list of Executive Producers have never previously spent a single day in their positions and the promotion has yet to have one match—I am completely convinced said mat world wizards are indeed correct.

I mean they must be correct; because, if you check their entire history of postings, you won’t find a single apology regarding ever being incorrect!  Like, for example, no one in 2018 claimed the WWE had irreversibly “buried” Daniel Bryan and Becky. Or, in 2019, declared Kenny Omega was going to be the surprise entrant in the Royal Rumble.

Now that it has been firmly established beyond question that AEW will dominate the bonebending business for centuries to come, I have kindly put my mammoth brain to work, drawing up a few policies that, once implemented, will make this powerhouse promotion even more, um, powerhousey.

*Men in hazmat suits at shows’ doors to check for lice, and use a special Odorama device to detect if the potential entrant has showered in the past 72 hours.  No neckbeards will be permitted.  Ditto ridiculous sideburns or bandanas to hide receding hairlines—meaning the Jacksons will have to “executive produce” from the parking lot.

*Fans will not be referred to as a “universe,” but rather as “Elitists”…which they are anyway, with their highly unwarranted superiority complexes and smug attitude regarding “casuals.”

*The few broads in the promotion will not be subjected to wearing tiny outfits in order to allow lecherous slobs to get cheap thrills, a la Alexa Bliss.  That would be inexcusable.  Instead, the AEW women will be totally nude except for a thin coating of baby oil.

*Every time Omega is “selling” a now-ruined former finisher for two seconds, color commentator Stately Wayne Manor (oh, you didn’t know?) will shout “Oh, my God, they killed Kenny!!!”

*All pins will be for a six-count (since 98 percent of three-count pins will be kicked out of anyway.)

*Because AEW represents a serious sport for the mat connoisseur, only trained professional wrestlers will serve as Joey Ryan’s penis druids.

*All crowd chants must include the wrestler’s full name as it appears on his birth certificate.  This demonstrates the chanter is a true insider, unlike those peons who foolishly chant a grappler’s ring name or his former indie circuit moniker.

*Like in gymnastics and figure skating, every member of the audience shall hold up a card after each match, denoting the star rating it deserves.  Because AEW can do no wrong, the card set begins with four stars and goes up to ten.

*During the first intermission, there will be a WWE hating contest (even though it was the WWE who made most fans aware of the two biggest names on the card.)

*Security will bodily eject anyone caught cheering for babyfaces and booing the heels.

*Admission to pre-show meet-and-greet sessions will be absolutely FREE.  There will, however, be a $40 charge to exit.

*To satisfy the desires of the intellectuals in the Internet Wrestling Community, EVERY SINGE AEW employee will be pushed and hold a title, including the ring announcers, timekeeper and Martin R. Lipscomb of Dayton, Ohio, who prints up the programs.

*Streamers should be tossed into the ring not only before and after each match, but also with each near-fall.

*Small-talk between matches should be confined to what certain wrestlers “deserve,” which wrestlers already under contract elsewhere should “join” AEW, and namedropping NJPW talent from the past five years. Extra credit for adding “-san” to each Japanese name, e.g. Naito-san.

*Each arena entrant will receive a set of “opinion cards” in order to ensure everyone continues to Tweet the exact same thing throughout the following weeks.  Example:  Card #7 “Vince McMahon is a billionaire who disgustingly used his wealth to sign up the best indie talent…but Tony Khan didn’t do the exact same thing.”

*Providing intelligence tests for venue admission will allow AEW to make history by being the only promotion ever with an entire card consisting of empty arena matches.

*Because AEW is all about gender equality, brotherhood, being “inclusive,” and similar idealistic crap, the least-renowned former Bullet Club member will henceforth be known as Hangperson Page.

*Because Creative Control is very important to chatty social media masterminds, who have never been nor will ever be in matches and know nothing about the history of WCW, AEW will extend its roster Total Creative Control.  Anyone will have the right to refuse anything.  What could possibly go wrong?

 

The way I see it—and bear in mind I’m never wrong about anything, so this is incredibly important—All Elite Wrestling needs to be built around the one true star among their roster.  A charismatic young man with a real gift for addressing the masses and treating them exactly as they deserve to be treated.

Though only a complete numskull would project AEW to compete directly with the empire built by my good friend Vinny K. McMahon, I can see All Elite running a strong second—but only if Tony “Wrath Of” Khan centers the promotion on its most gifted individual.

That of course eliminates Kenny Overrated, either of the Young Dwarves and the son of the guy I called The American Drum because he got beat on so much.  And since I employed the adjective “young,” that means the chubby ghost of Axl Rose, Chris Jericho, ironically enough, doesn’t make the list.  Everyone knows Fozzy performed “The Star-Spangled Banner”…the day it was written.

No, I am referring to the one true standout amongst the signees.  An ideal personality for the yoots of America and beyond to emulate.  Unflinching in his beliefs while possessing the great bravery it takes to challenge the norm—and quite the snazzy dresser.

If you’re too dense to have figured it out by now, I’ll spell it out for you in three letters:  M-J-F.

I will have to check my road log to see if I was in his hometown nine months before his birth; but I suspect Maxwell Jacob Friedman may very well be my son.

Let’s examine the similarities.

*A dozen years ago, long before that Miz clone cat, I was walking around with “>U” stickers on my clothing. MJF’s slogan is “Better than you.”

*Immeasurably attractive—BOTH of us

*Keenly aware of superiority and not afraid to remind you—BOTH

*Recognizes the typical wrestling fan as a repugnant attention-seeker—BOTH

*Would rather belly-flop into a pool of porcupines than converse with you—BOTH

*Idol of millions yet couldn’t care less what anyone thinks—BOTH

*Immense talent being routinely suppressed by the jealous—BOTH

The only major difference between us is that M, as I call him, is very wealthy, whereas every tightwad publisher I ever worked for will verify I am a poor writer.  In fact, I defy anyone to prove I’m not!

At any rate, although my lawyers advise against it—due to terminology someone like you could never remotely understand—at this time, I would like to publicly and proudly bestow Maxwell with legal permission to refer to himself as SWMJF or Stately, Junior.

What higher endorsement could there possibly be?

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