SS48—The Official Wrestling Fan Qualification Quiz

When the Commissioner Of Wrestling, the late and universally liked Harry White, passed away, I pledged to take up some of his duties, as he was a great admirer of the original “Stately States.”  This was a responsibility I took very seriously.

Although many have kicked around the idea for years, I have decided it is time to draw up an official Test To Determine Who Is Permitted To Be A Wrestling Fan.

Of course, promoters don’t want to go out of business: so, there won’t be any requirements along the lines of an IQ over 50 or male fans grooming.  Let’s not get carried away.

Instead, I devised a simple True Or False test that should only take a minute or two to complete.  And I wrote it at a fourth-grade reading level so that the typical not-too-bright fan can comprehend the questions.

Answers are provided below.

True or false…

  1. If you pay for a ticket, you have the right to do anything you please, damn it!
  2. Hardcore wrestling is an art form,
  3. Secretly, you’re glad Roman Reigns got sick, because he sucked and was being shoved down your throat.
  4. Chris Benoit belongs in the WWE Hall Of Fame.
  5. Most of my T-shirts have some sort of wrestling artwork on them.
  6. All of my T-shirts have some sort of wrestling artwork on them.

WWE Network subscription cancel notice

  1. You cancelled the WWE Network over the second Crown Jewel event.  7b.  Made certain everyone knows you quit watching WWE altogether, by being sure to post an announcement online.
  1. Your Twitter handle or Profile includes “heel”, “smark”, “mark”, “WOKEN” and/or #TooSweet, or contains “@WWE” even though you’re not a WWE employee, or is comprised of a combination of two grapplers’ names (e.g. SashaNaito13).
  2. Hot or not, you would never go out with someone who isn’t a dedicated wrestling fan, baby!
  3. Saw a “botch” GIF and expertly explained how the bump should have been taken.
  4. Hey, have you ever agreed that Kenny Omega or another guy or a promotion is great, and you weren’t really familiar with them but didn’t want to look dumb? We’ve all done that, right?  LOL
  5. A world champion needs to wrestle on all or nearly all of his brand’s TV shows.
  6. Asuka has had a terrible 2018.
  7. Having dozens of action figures makes you pretty freakin’ cool and the envy of others.
  8. Promoters should do their utmost to provide a loaded card.
  9. If you ever/have kids, they will be/are named after favorite wrestlers.

 

ANSWERS

Be advised, you need a perfect score to qualify to be a wrestling fan!

Key:  The correct answer to all questions is “False” unless noted otherwise. Consequently, the individual comments below pertain to those who answered “True.”

  1. A ticket purchase entitles you to be a spectator, not a participant. Shut up and sit down, instant test–and life–failure.
  2. Hardcore = retardcore. Any slob can light himself on fire and dive onto a table wrapped in barbed wire.  You should try it sometime.
  3. May your next pizza contain a secret topping—malaria.
  4. True. Much too much attention is paid to what wrestlers do outside the ring, most of it strictly hearsay.  (Did anyone actually see Chris kill himself and his family?)

Do you go to wrestling cards and watch the TV shows to get etiquette lessons, moral guidance, spiritual advice and similar useless crap?  Of course not.  You follow the sport to see someone get slapped silly from LA to Philly.  Heck, people murder their families all the time.  Snowflakes act like there’s something wrong with that.  Pfffft.

  1. True. Spend, spend, spend, friend!
  2. Get a death, loser.
  3. If you were so outraged about Arabian politics, how come you didn’t cancel before the first Crown Jewel? Hmmmm?    7b.  Nobody likes an attention whore.  Actually, nobody likes you anyway.  Lick a fire hydrant ASAP
  1. May an ejected toilet flush from a space station crash through your roof and land squarely in your mouth as you sleep.
  1. I would rather allow a flea-ridden Armenian zombie pickpocket with a loud cough and fatal flatulence into an arena than you.
  2. Go sand the zits off your back, windbag. The closest you’ve ever come to taking a bump is when the school bully slammed you into a locker and broke your clarinet.
  3. Wrong. You are a fraud and still look dumb…and ugly.
  4. Did Bruno Sammartino, Bob Backlund and Hulk Hogan, three of the W/WWF/E’s longest-reigning champions, wrestle of TV every week? NO.  When the Four Horsemen were running wild on WTBS, did Ric Flair wrestle every show?  NO.  Do you know anything about the history of the sport you claim to love?  NO.  Should you be allowed to be a fan?  NO.
  5. Well, yeah, carrying an undefeated streak as Raw champ into Wrestlemania 34 on April 8th—meaning the most dominant wrestler of the entire first quarter of the year—ending 2018 by winning a battle royal then participating in the first-ever women’s TLC match for the SD championship…that must suck.

I bet every wrestler on the planet who didn’t get a WWE contract, undefeated streak, world championship and Wrestlemania booking while remaining injury-free—which is about 99.86 percent of all active wrestlers worldwide—is relieved he (or she) didn’t have such a “terrible” year!

  1. You play with dolls.
  2. True. Promoters are all billionaires who will gleefully dump an unlimited stream of money into their shows.  After all, WRESTLING IS ALL ABOUT PLEASING YOU.

So what if the fee for top talent, refs, security, etc and the cost of the hall and ring rental, insurance, posters, flashy pyros and state-of-the-art lighting and sound system for a 500-seat venue with $20 tickets comes to 50 grand?  That’s only a loss of 40 thou per show, provided it’s a sell-out.

And after the promotion folds, once or twice during the following decade, you can fondly reminisce about it.  That’s all that really matters.

(A comical gnome from Atlantis with a shiny pirate’s chest full of doubloons and rubies will eventually come along and reimburse the promoter anyway.)

But if you don’t want to see the league crash, I suggest going into the locker room, standing on a chair and telling everyone they should work for free.  Do this at the next event you attend.  Don’t worry.  It’s perfectly safe.  When wrestlers apply for their license, they sign a form saying they won’t hit anyone.

  1. Seek professional help, sicko.

 

Becky Lynch is The Man!

Becky Lynch is The Man!

Becky Lynch is The Man!

Becky Lynch is The Man!

BECKY LYNCH IS THE MAN!

No, she isn’t.

I realize the vast majority of you have never spoken to a woman besides the bored girl at the Wendy’s drive-through window; but Becky has something called a “vagina” (google it) and thus can’t be a man.

I should know, the way she’s been throwing herself at me for the past four years.  Not that I can blame her, since there are no real men among her followers.

You see, bubbleheads, what most of you “experts” don’t know is that all the top wrestlers from the British Isles, including Bimbo Becky, Drew McIntyre, Grado, PAC, Sheamus, Jimmy Havoc, Drake Maverick, Paige, Marty Scurll, Katrina Waters and Finn Balor, all grew up reading England’s Power Slam magazine, for which I am the ONLY writer to appear in every issue.  As such, every man in the UK wants to be like me and every woman wants me.

Between my legendary 1985-2001 Wrestling World run and the additional twenty straight years in Power Slam, there’s no question SW Manor is the most influential journalist in wrestling history.

I’m just not one to brag.

“B-b-but saying she’s ‘The Man’ is a strong statement about gender equality.”

Meh, something they cooked up after realizing how moronic “The Man” sounds.

Calling oneself “The Man” as an expression of being the most over of either sex—as apologists claim—clearly suggests being a man is superior to being a woman.  And although it’s true, what kind of cockeyed “feminist” statement is that?

Raunchy Rebecca, as I call her–you know, the chick you claimed was “buried” four months ago—will drop her strap to another broad, and you bandwagon-jumpers will dump her quicker than Snoop Dogg can roll a joint.

Truth of the matter is, she loves being on her back.  At least around me, heh heh heh.

nudge nudge Python GIF

SS36—It’s 2017…and you’ll never believe what happens next!

It’s that time of the year again and a Stately States tradition:  A remarkably accurate look into what lies ahead for professional wrestling over the next twelve months.  Once again, I peer into my crystal balls—I have them, you know—and reveal all.

*Needing another three hours to kill, WWE holds a one-night Cruiserweight Classic tourney to crown a new champion.  The 47 in attendance attempt to remain awake by performing the wave, chanting “Mojo Rawley” and doing horrendous Hulk Hogan imitations when the hard-camera light is lit.

*Facebook requires those in Groups listed as “wrestling experts” to provide proof they have any link whatsoever to the sport, beyond merely watching matches.  Membership dips by 97 percent.

*Due to a typo—blamed on auto-correct, as per usual—Wrestlemania 33 is co-headlined by Brock Lesnar vs. Gillberg.  It is still better than any previous Lesnar/Goldberg match.

*On the Smackdown brand Parisian tour, Shane McMahon attempts an elbow drop off the Eiffel Tower.  Video footage surfaces of Stephanie McMahon and Triple H snickering during the resultant funeral services.

*Emmalina finally makes her Raw return, only to announce she has a tag partner, who will also take six months to debut.

*Hoping to recapture public attention, the “It’s still real to me” guy releases a YouTube clip of him whimpering “Paige is still hot, to me.”  Three million fanboys who once masturbated to Paige photos mock him on social media.

*In a scene eerily reminiscent of the movie Scanners, Mauro Ranallo’s entire skull explodes after shouting “A SIDE HEADLOCK!!!” at 153 decibels.  scanners-head-exploding-gif

*The ghost of Gorilla Monsoon taps “announcer” David Otunga on the shoulder and asks “Will you stop?”  It’s “history in the making, folks” as Monsoon becomes the first ghost ever to receive a standing ovation.

*With the introduction of the Weekly Schmoz podcast, every single wrestling reference in the entire galaxy has been used within a name of one of these shows.

*Delicious Dixie Carter presents her own variation of the Kiss My Ass Club, called the Burnish My Butt Brigade, whereupon she rubs her derriere with printouts from 2016 tweets and newsletters gleefully declaring “TNA is dead” and “Dixie is gone.”  In one instance, she uses a Smashing Pumpkins CD booklet.

*Even the staunchest devotee must begrudgingly admit a match held in Japan was “three stars at most.”  Thousands of clothes dryers are stuffed with tear-stained Bullet Club shirts.

*Michael Cole is fined $10,000 for failing to call the 107th Sasha/Charlotte match “historic.”

*Booker T sues Joey Ryan over the name of the latter’s new move, the bonerooni.

*Asuka, Samoa Joe and Nakamura debut on the main roster TOGETHER…at which point all three are simultaneously pinned by the Shining Stars and Alicia Fox in ten seconds and immediately sent back to NXT as a smirking Vince McMahon appears on the Titantron, flipping off the audience.

*Lip-synching is suspected, after Lana performs a complete segment without once forgetting her “Russian accent.”

*Lucha Underground is permanently shut down after President Trump deports three-quarters of its employees.

*Balloons drop from the ceiling, pyros go off in abundance in an April edition of Raw, as Big Show makes his 100th turn.  After a sincere speech thanking everyone for their support, he chokeslams ring announcer JoJo.

*The 2017 Oxford Dictionary For Online Wrestling Sites defines “our sources” as “material we swiped from Dave Meltzer” and “buried” as “term never EVER used correctly.”

*John Cena’s retirement tour features merchandise emblazoned with “U Won’t C Me.”

*A survey reveals that 48 percent of fans tossing streamers at US indie shows do it “because everyone else does” and believe the practice originated in Philadelphia.

*Responding to the “one more match” chant, D-Von Dudley’s last words from within a ring are “Get your own damn tables, fat ass!”

*Viewer confusion hits an all-time high, moving the WWE to adopt “good guy, cheer him” and “bad guy, boo” subtitles on all broadcasts.

*New Flotsam streaming service airs nothing but matches held in school gymnasiums and dingy nightclubs.  Subscribers are paid $9.99 a month.

*Two gals wearing a combined 24 square inches of ring gear rave about how the “women’s revolution” has completely changed the role of females.

*Fans who have never once been in a locker room continue to state former WCW, WWE, TNA and ROH employee Jim Cornette “doesn’t know anything about wrestling, bro.”

*Eighty-nine percent of those who in 2016 claimed the just-released Damian Sandow “should go to TNA, that would be AWESOME!” can’t recall his current ring name and never bought a single piece of his TNA merch.

*The entire industry collapses when a wrestler does not kick out of the first pinfall attempt.  Millions roam the streets worldwide, glassy-eyed, mumbling “What just happened?”

SS31–Mark, My Words

People often come to me and ask, “You are the official longest-running wrestling columnist ever, in REAL magazines sold worldwide, a TRAINED journalist PAID to opine; so what is your take on the multitude of so-called ‘hardcore’ fans who constantly go online and to great lengths to impress each other with their deep insight, the Internet Wrestling Community, also known as the IWC?”

Ah, the sophomoric “smarts.” They’ve always occupied a very special place in my heart. In fact, you know what? I feel a song coming on!

Oh, look, everybody, it’s Mister “IWC”
Whose official scent is known as “faint odor of pee.”
Drool stains and mucus dot the front of your sweater
Claiming you’re an “expert” because you read a newsletter.

Host a podcast, call all everybody “brother”
Only have one listener, and that’s your mother.
Your mom gets all squishy when you mention Bobby Roode
And she’s the only female you’ve ever seen nude.

Never climbed through the ropes, never been in the back
But your cousin knows a neighbor of Outback Jack.
Telling all your buds you’re tight with Terry Funk
Hey, aren’t you the guy who bought that house for Punk?

Got in a picture with Batista ‘cause you gave him forty bucks
Now you claim to be “best friends”; he couldn’t give two f*cks.
Blew your whole life savings on a beat-up old car
Because the dealer said it was once owned by J.R.

Hop onto your mattress pretending you’re with Bayley
Have a photograph of her you “tribute” twice daily
Last month, it was Asuka who was all the rage
Now regrettin’ gettin’ that tattoo of Paige.

No girls know you exist, so you head to Porn Hub
Drop your pants to the floor and rub rub rub rub rub.
Yanking away on what you call “my lady-pleaser”
Doesn’t fill your palm, so you have to use a tweezer.

After you’re through with two hours of fappin’
It’s back to bashing matches that haven’t even happened.
Been a long day of griping, so now it’s off to bed
And your recurring dream of giving The Rock head.

Due to corporate rules at your job at Arby’s
Boss had to invite you to the Christmas party.
Bored everyone to death talking Jushin Liger
Asked to pick a song, you chose “Eye Of The Tiger”!
Went home after the bash, popped in “One Night In Chyna”
Hey, may as well, you’re NEVER gonna touch a vagina.

Tried to act cool with Latinos, told them “I watch ‘LU’”
They grabbed a broomstick, made a piñata out of you.
It wasn’t just that statement that sealed the deal
Was when you said “I know you love to lie, cheat and steal.”

You’re the Boldest Of The Bold, a true Opinion Lord
Behind a phony name and a computer keyboard.
Numero uno, king of the fanboy scene
Claiming “Kayfabe is dead,” don’t even know what it means.
The phrase “New Japan” sends a tingle to your crotch
You’re the “superfan” who’s never heard of Karl Gotch.
Bashing Roman Reigns, Dixie Carter and Russo
When nobody’s around, paint your face up like an Uso.

Rip on the promos (though you’ve never done one)
Rip on the announcing (though you’ve never done one)
Rip on the bumping (though you’ve never done one)
Rip on the booking (though you’ve never done one)
Hmm, starting to see a pattern here, son?

SS25–Breaking (them) News

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So much “Breaking News” as of late, I hardly know where to begin.

*The Immoral Hulk Hogan Because I am superior to, well, EVERYONE, I have magnanimously consented to accept apologies from the Hulkamorons who, upon the rare occasions of removing their thumbs from their butts, took the time to write sissy-pants letters (few of which were intelligible) to Wrestling World and Power Slam magazines, whining about me bashing their half-witted hero.

For 30 years, I told you people Hulk Hohum is a slimeball; but, no, you just sat there with your naked GI Joe in one hand and naked self in the other, and whimpered, “Hulkster am good man. He say we brothers. Googoo booboo.”

Doing my duty as Wrestling’s Only Unbiased Columnist, I have been forced to sit among the rabble, therefore I am well aware wrestling fans in general are about as sharp as a horse’s heiney and have the same fragrance. And Hogan-idolizers are even worse!

Here are some random examples. I once told one we were going bear hunting, and he said “Isn’t it more fun with clothes on?” Told another I’d been in Mississippi, and he asked “Didn’t Mister Sippi mind?” Upon telling a third I was taking a transatlantic flight, he replied “Wouldn’t the train be safer?”

These people are DUMB, I tell you. If brains were helium, all the Hulkamaniacs combined wouldn’t have enough to inflate a balloon for a titmouse’s birthday party. After all, Hulk Hogan fans are the type who buy two copies of a DVD in case they want to see the movie twice.

Having established their inferiority beyond doubt, all any Hulkhead needs to do is admit to being an ignorant, weak-kneed, worthless dung piles who should be caged then dropped into the Arctic Ocean, and I will forgive him, her or it. It’s that simple, simpletons!

*Daniel Bryan releases biography And in the epilogue, the filthy hippie reveals how many injuries he suffered writing the damn thing.

*Undertaker returns Just when you thought it was safe to turn on the TV again, Grandpa Taker comes toddling down the aisle to ruin Seth Rollins’ easy victory over Brock Lesnar, then SummerSlam as well.

Aaaaaaah, poor wittle baby is upset because his itty-bitty streak got broken at Wrestlemania 30. Nope, he was not there because his brother cuddly Kane got injured at the hands of Lesnar. Translation: Taker is a poor sport and raging egomaniac who lacks the maturity to get over one lossSIXTEEN FREAKING MONTHS AGO.

And although Paul Heyman barely ever mentioned it, the Zombie MMA Biker—or whatever the hell he’s supposed to be—decided to assault the Long Islander (who could have easily tuned Taker had he so desired) on national television.

Yes, Paul Heyman, beloved by billions around the globe for his honesty and business acumen, was viciously attacked; yet Brock was the one arrested, the Underachiever getting a free pass by showing the police his AARP membership card.

And why did it take sixteen months to occur? That’s how long it took the broken-down old creep to get himself and his walker down the aisle, between the short steps and Ensure breaks.

Did you know Undertaker’s Rookie Of The Year trophy was presented by a famous Jackson? Not Michael or Reggie—Andrew. He was also once voted Favorite Wrestler by PWI—President Wilson’s Interns. I know for a fact those boots he wears are labeled “Size XVI.” Always a spoiled lad, he got them as a souvenir during the first combat event he ever attended. It was a match of biblical proportion—at least until that cheater David broke out his slingshot and cheap-shotted Goliath. (Ref Pontivious Hebner is still under suspicion.)

*Josh Mathews and The Pope still reign…as the worst announcing combo on TV. That’s really saying something, when you factor in JBL & Byron SUXton and Tom Phillips & Germy Uso.

The Poop, who demonstrated his deep product knowledge by calling Ken Anderson “Kennedy” during a TNA broadcast, evidently grew up in a fatherless home and “has issues” regarding it. It’s the only plausible explanation as to why he can’t finish a sentence without calling someone “Daddy.”

Either that or he just plain stinks as an announcer. Hmmmm.

As for the Oompa Loompa sitting beside him, Jiveass Josh shows all the fire of someone calling a putt on the 16th hole of a miniature golf tournament in Pugwash, Maine. “The American Wolves have just won the tag team titles and I wonder if I left the stove on when I left the house.”

You don’t have to take my word on how putrid this pair is. Just examine the stats. Since The Poop and Mini Me manned the mics together, Impact Wrestling has one-third of the viewership it averaged before their arrival; and I predict it will have ZERO U.S. viewers by October 1, 2015!

(And on a personal note, I’ve got your Twitter Block right here, Mathews.)

*Paige’s life spiraling into abyss To a degree, I feel sorry for the goofy goth. Not just because she was raised in a dreary sunless patch of soot populated by homely sourpusses feebly clinging to the hopeless notion their nation will regain its wildly exaggerated prominence—otherwise known as the laughably named “Great” Britain, or as it’s referred to in the U.N., the Brutus Beefcake of countries.

No, I feel bad for the Princess Of Paleness because, growing up reading my monthly columns in UK’s Power Slam, like all Britons, she came to adore and idolize me. Except, in Paige’s case, the usual infatuation developed into a demonic obsession.

It started out innocently enough. A fan letter after each new issue, sometimes including a little sketch. Got thousands like it monthly, paid her no mind.

That may have been a mistake. As the years went by, Paige’s mailings and overall behavior grew more and more unstable.

Those cute drawings became painting of “our wedding”(!)…and us with “our children”(!!)…and her stabbing other women who smiled at me, the red “ink” analyzed to be human blood!!!

Then came the series of selfies, most of which would have made a gynecologist blush, accompanied by VERY explicit details about how I would, shall we say, “fit in” with her. (I’ll give the girl this: she’s far more flexible than she appears in the ring. And the heart-shaped public hair is a nice touch.)

The final straw came when she began lurking outside the Power Slam office wearing an “I (heart) Stately’s (body part)” shirt and introducing herself to approaching strangers as “Mrs. Manor.”

Enough was enough. I tossed all her previous mailings—okay, I kept the photos and a few panties—in the incinerator and alerted the British postal system to deliver no more.

What did Paige do next? Moved to the United States, claiming to be pursuing a wrestling career. Believe me, the ladies have nicknamed it many things—the Stately staff, Godzilla Junior, the Manor Manhood, Led Zeppelin II—but this is the first time it’s been called “a wrestling career”!

After a string of restraining orders and lectures from the Immigration Service, the love-struck loony finally faced the harsh reality that I just wasn’t interested.

Any normal person would have moved on. Pathetic Paige, however, in a transparent attempt to make me jealous, has hired an actor to portray her “boyfriend,” complete with claims that he is in an obscure rock band—just like I happened to be before becoming an international icon.

I’ve seen his photo and am 90-percent certain it’s that guy Silent Bob from the movies. And, hey, that red-ballcap-worn-backwards look is very impressive…if you have a time machine that transports you to 1995 and have hideous enough taste to attend a Limp Bizkit concert.

SS23–Latest Orders From Stately Central

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Going forward…damn, do I hate that phrase. “In the future” worked perfectly well for centuries; but some business buffoons had to start saying “going forward,” and the sheep trying to look smarter than they truly are followed suit–yet again.

Speaking of simpletons who blindly repeat what other schmucks are spouting, the online wrestling “experts” have all weighed in on Wrestlemania 31. And as per usual, their observations run from unintentionally comedic to about as intelligent as a drug-addled brontosaurus with a migraine headache.

Typing with one hand while, um, “paying homage” to a photo of Paige with the other, pathetic souls flooded Twitter and Facebook like overheated 14-year-old fangirls just back from a One Erection concert wondering why there was moisture in their panties.

[I will pause here for a moment while the bulk of you, who have NO idea what that last phrase meant, go ask your mommies. And if your mother has difficulty remembering, due to your useless old man, show her a photo of me, and the memories will come “flooding” back.]

Of course all the internet chatter is superfluous dribble, as the only thoughts that really count on any subject are MINE.

With that in mind, and equating Wrestlemania with the equivalent of Wrestling New Years Day, here are my commands for what should occur over the next twelve months.

*Unbridled support for the New Day. Its been scientifically proven that 87.5 percent of all wrestling fans are racists, these statistics documented in the 2014 Harvard Study Of Ignorant Honkies.

Oh, that doesn’t mean YOU? Where is the outrage over no Asians being on the WWE main roster and only two in development? How many threatened (and, true to form, chickened out) to Cancel The WWE Network over Mexicool not taking their rightful place in the Hall Of Fame? That’s what I thought.

So here were three young brothers being held back by The Man yet still doing their best to entertain you crackers, and all you did was sit there downloading Iggy Azalea MP3s and thinking that showed you are down. Caucasian, please!

The first thing I want ND to do is invite R-Goof into the ring. At that point, Big-E should say “You all like this man, right? After all, he’s come out for years, rapping and dancing or talking funny as guest commentator. Why, he even went around stealing the Inter-Continental title for a while there!

“Yeah, you ofays get a real laugh out of all that. And who cares if he just reinforces negative stereotypes?” At which point the trio WAILS THE LIVING SNOT OUT OF R-TRUTH.

Cherry on top comes when Xavier stands tall over the half-conscious chump and says, “And that’s Whats Up,” before dropping the mic on the fool.

*Ditto the Beat Down Clan. MVP has retweeted SWM, conclusively proving the man is a certified genius and fine communicator deserving the respect of all. And by being associated with him, the same applies to Kenny King and the rest of the Clan.

The thing is, one would never know it by the rude reception they get despite a history of doing nothing but valiant public services such as kicking Bobby Lashley to the curb and Hopalong Melendez in the dome.

Nope, you’ll get behind milk-pie Drool Galloway and his posse as they continually interfere in fair matches and incite ringsiders to “Stand Up” when in actuality they should be told to shut up.

Don’t insult my superior intelligence by playing innocent. I know EXACTLY why you choose the Galloway goons over the courageous gents in the BDC.

In fact, it’s specifically spelled out on page 47 of the Harvard Study. I’d quote it here, but its not like any of you would comprehend the polysyllabics. (That means “big words,” dummy.)

*I fully support the Give Divas A Chance campaign–as long as the slogan is extended to include “To Strip.”

Let’s be real here. With the exception of Alicia Fox, none of these chickadees qualify to be called “wrestlers.” Even the WWE admits it, refusing to ever refer to the broads by the W-word. Eva Marie? Rosa? Cameron? The Bellends? Are you kidding me? These gals wouldn’t know a suplex from a soup spoon, a bearhug from a bearskin rug or a sunset flip from a potato chip!

Renowned for doing extensive research, I have concluded that part of the problem is the restrictive nature of ring gear…and the only solution is for the Divas–and TNA Knockouts–to slowly remove their attire as appropriate music blares, in the ring before each match.

They’ll still blow, but who cares?!?

*All wrestling fans–especially those in the “IWC” (Internet Wanking Community)–are hereby required to memorize and ABSORB the following.

1) CM Punk is done wrestling. Get over it.

2) Japanese wrestling did not start last year, you’re just too ignorant to have been aware.

3) It is entirely possible to support the WWE and TNA, unless you are a complete halfwit.

4) Most wrestlers think you’re a sucker and only act nice to you so you’ll buy their crap.

5) Rey Misterio was never close to being “the greatest luchadore ever” and you couldn’t name five who have never appeared on Lucha Underground.

6) Tough luck on him croaking and all that, but the Ultimate Wart was not “one of the all-time greats” and doesn’t belong on a Top 500 list, let alone a Top Ten.

7) That deep white thing near the toilet is called a bathtub.

*Reinstate Bashful Bill DeMott then replace NXT on the WWE Network with educational programming.

Mr. DeMott, an Eagle Scout spending most of his spare time snuggling puppies at the animal shelter, is a misunderstood humanitarian who tried his darndest to get a bunch of spoiled sissies prepared for the harsh reality of life on the road. Is it his fault the NXT performers–NOT “superstars”–are whiny softies who somehow objected to diving off 30-foot ladders, just because they had a couple of measly concussions, or thought there was something “wrong” with enjoying the outdoors on a 24-mile sprint while Bill patiently explained the inferiority of their heritage?

Luxury! Why, when I was in reform wrestling school, we used to dream of only having to do a thousand sit-ups before breakfast. And we did them underwater…in a polluted lake…full of rabid eels!!!

No, these NXT crybabies don’t deserve to be on the air; and, besides, Lawd knows wrestling fans can use some educational material in their lives. At Wrestlemania, Triple-H weighed 258–which was also the average SAT score of those in attendance.

*Raw after Mania tickets to be dumped directly into an incinerator. What’s worse than a roomful of the ironically named “smart fans”? A whole arena full of them!

Each year, Mr. McMahon, a long-time fan of mine, BEGS me to attend the broadcast following Wrestlemania; but, though I dread disappointing my old friend, I must respectfully decline. Imagine someone like me spending three hours with someone like, well, YOU. I mean, I have had all my shots; however, there’s no vaccination countering my allergy to nincumpoops! (Who often smell like doggie poops.)

Decked out in what can only be described as 2005 Dumpster Dive, these quasi-literates spend 18 hours a day complaining about something called “booking”–though they’ve never voluntarily been in a library their entire lives–and heaping absurd praise on obscure matches from twelve years ago (which they griped about at the time.)

They know everything about “this business,” including up to a half-dozen insider terms they spout to demonstrate their thorough understanding of the sport. And how did they gain such invaluable insight? Was it from spending grueling hours in a wrestling academy? Working on cards as a grappler, manager, commentator, ref or timekeeper? Covering the scene for decades as a paid professional international columnist?

Nope. Their unmatched wisdom comes from reading (and usually misinterpreting) a weekly newsletter and visiting internet sites, the bulk of which are authored by fellow clueless amateurs with no real industry connections!!!

Seriously, non-wrestling fans, I am not making this up: people who have never been in a locker room let alone participated in a single match or privately spoken to a wrestler beyond asking for an autograph ACTUALLY BELIEVE THEY KNOW MORE ABOUT THE BUSINESS THAN THOSE MAKING A LIVING AT IT.

“Let’s see, I subscribe to Prevention magazine and hang out at WebMD.com, so, yeah, I can perform a kidney transplant.”

SS21–Wanna See My Twits?

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Because Mr. McMahon begged me “So at least one Monday tweeter won’t be an imbecile,” I signed on with Twitter in October of 2014, and now, as completely expected, hold the world record for Most Followers, currently boasting a total of over 100,000,300. (Oh, sure, it may say something like “329” when you look at my Profile, @SWManor. But that’s because the counter resets when you hit a hundred-mil.)

Consequently, I am inundated daily with tweets and e-mails from around the globe. I, of course, generally blow off the ones that aren’t from my fellow celebrities or attractive broads–which in turns means I most certainly can’t be bothered with yours. However, feeling a bit sorry for your wretched lives of unending tedium and the absolute certainty you will NEVER associate with anyone of signficance beyond maybe cleaning their pool or delivering them a pizza, I have consented to share some of the messages that have beamed into the Stately Estate in recent days.

“Have you seem me since I stole Mike Tenay’s job on TNA Impact?”–@realjoshmathews

Yes, you’re half of the only announce team ever to have all its members barred from the cooler rides at Six Flags due to being under four-foot-six.

“Although he wonders how the kids have big blue eyes just like yours, my husband still doesn’t suspect a thing about us. Tee hee hee. Can’t wait until I get all of Daddy’s money, so I can divorce Triple-Homely and put YOU in charge of the company. It’s best for business!”–Stanford Steph@OPP.com

Can’t wait to hear you tell him “You’re FIIIIIIIRED.” And, hey, that workout DVD you sent has done wonders for my forearms and wrists!!!

“You’re a man of the world. Where should I go on my vacation?”–@MATTHARDYBRAND

I recommend the year 2007, when people still cared about your sorry carcass.

“Did you see my last match?”–@HEELZiggler

I sure hope so!!!

“You have been such a tremendous inspiration to many people like me. The best way I could possibly thank you was to hook you up for free cable for life, including those ‘special’ channels from the hidden cameras I hooked up in locker areas.”–CreepyRobLowe@DishNetwork.com

Thanks, pal–and you were right, those cheerleaders from Central High really take some looooong hot showers! Accent on “hot,” heh heh heh.

“When we say ‘Ooo,’ you say____?”–@WWEUsos

Oh, sh*t, change the channel.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad nyooz.”–@WadeBarrett

Don’t tell me there’s another New Day video coming out!

“Daniel Bryan got robbed at the Royal Rumble!”–Johnny Internetdork@nosepicker.net

Stay right where you are. Your nanny will be by shortly to change your diaper.

“I’m going to do another podcast soon, complaining about how the WWE made me the longest-reigning world champion in modern times and allowed only me to have entrance music from an outside source. So, there.”–CMPunk@WhineAndCheese.com

And you are? Don’t seem to recall the name. Wait, you’re the supposedly “alternative” guy who wears suits now, right?

“Tap of the marnin’ to ya, fella.”–@WWESheamus

Go suck on a Lucky Charm, creep.

“About calling myself a real American hero even though I never served in the military, brother–when I was 18, I wanted to join the Army, but the President said, ‘You’re too valuable to the country to put at risk, dude.'”–HulkHogan@BS4Life.net

Well well well, I guess George Washington could tell a lie, after all.

“I red that book The Seacret and it make me reel smart now Stanley.”–@Ryback22

I bet you were “reel” surprised to learn there are books that don’t come with crayons.

“Growing up in England and reading your brilliant Power Slam magazine columns, I’ve spent my entire life fantasizing about being just like you. XOX”–@RealPaigeWWE

Well, hon, you’ve succeeded…to a certain degree: from the neck down, your physique is practically identical to mine. There is, however, one area in which we greatly vary. Tell you what–next time you’re in Philly, stop by the Manor Mansion and we can air out our differences. I’m sure you’ll be coming here many times thereafter.

“Since I’m a good guy now, I’ve been thinking I ought to change my name. What do YOU think?”–@REALBobbyRoode

I agree. Pumpernickel Von Dumbass Roode has a much better ring to it.

“Drats, I wish I just once could meet up with a talented, bright hunk of manliness like Stately Wayne Manor.”–Elvira, Mistress Of The Dark @TheRealElvira

I was going to conjecture you aren’t going to the correct locales; but from what I can see, you hang out in all the right places.

“Have you ever seen me wrestle?”–@THETOMMYDREAMER

I’m not sure I’d call what you do”wrestling,” but I have in fact seen your fourth, fifteenth and twenty-seventh “retirement match.”

“I did my best promo EVER last night!!!”–@iLikeSamiZayn

Heard it. Must say it suggested you have a very bright future–in pantomime.

“You can’t see me.”–@JohnCena

If only that were true. Sigh.

“Nobody’s ever been better than you at this here color commentatoring. What is the one thing I could do that would most improve a Raw broadcast?”–@BookerT5x

Contract laryngitis.