Stephen Rivera's 4th Fall
Session 18: California War
Wasssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssup, jerks?!?!?!?! It's Florentine "Ghetto Augustus" Habernathy. FloHab is in the building. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrap. Mountain Dew. Apple II. Air horn. Air horn. What, what?! WHOM?! Stephen left this column to me, so I'll be filling in for him for a bit. Well, he gave it to his cousin Montague, but that guy is kind of dumb. Open-heart surgery sounds easy. Stephen trusts me the most anyway. Why else would he invite me to listen to SummerSlam outside the front door of his ballin' lighthouse? My family has served his family for four generations. I'm his best friend.
You're probably wondering why they call me "Ghetto Augustus." I grew up on the streets. I lived in Malibu, where gangsters and criminals with my middle name must fight to survive. With my background, I might go into ultimate fighting. I already got a super sweet nickname, and I'm gonna come up with another one to put after that first one, like "Deadly Death Killer" or "Ben" or whatever. I could probably beat everyone in the UFC. I know Muay Thai. I've eaten that before. It tastes great.
Stephen should be back soon. I couldn’t tell you what he's doing right now, though. He said something about getting back his one true love. What a sucker. Love isn't real. It was made up by the people who make those Hallmark cards to guilt guys into buying pots and pans and lingerie for girls. He should be more like me. I'm a player. Every day, perfect tens come up to me and tell me, "Hey, you're so handsome and smart. I will pay one million dollars to spend the night with you." Then I say, "You know what? Okay. Two million dollars. Put on this face paint and these neon tassels."
What else? What did I forget? Oh yeah. This week's column should be no different than any other. It will be like he never left, except I don't really get anything he says on here. That Just for Men thing was good, but that was it. This column is usually in English, right? I still don't understand, and I read at a high level. Like, at a Highlights Magazine level. You'll enjoy this if you're a fan of that magazine.
- Stephen and me have a lot of things in common. We both love John Cena. We sure do. When Cena salutes the camera, I salute him. When he throws his shirt into the crowd, I take off the shirt I'm wearing and throw it at my audience. The priest at my church usually tells me to put my shirt back on and continue the Sunday school lesson. Screw that guy. The kids love it when I take off my clothes. Their parents are the same way. Father McGinty can't see me.
See what I said there? I made that catchphrase up myself about a billion years ago. I let Cena use it for free because he's so awesome. If anybody else used it, I would sue.
- There's going to be more challengers than champions at WWE Night of Champions. I counted it up using this abacus I bought, which turned out to be a bead maze for little kids. Took me three hours. Pretty fun.
What gives with you challengers?! You guys have the whole day, afternoon, and evening to yourselves, and you already got dibs on the other 364 days of the week. Greedy, greedy, greedy. See, this is why none of you are championship material. You're not letting champions have nice things.
- "Pain. You can feel it or you can... deal it. It shows no mercy. No remorse. Rage and destruction... are upon us. Congratulations. You've been inducted into the Hall of Pain."
Man, Mark Henry isn't going to sell much French bread in his hallway with that attitude. Is he mad about not being respected by other wrestlers for 15 years, or not being able to sell enough bread to clear that narrow hallway of his? Who taught him to sell bread loaves in this stupid way? Geeze. Thanks a lot for ruining my appetite, Mark. I can't even have crackers right now. SETTLE THE FUDGE DOWN.
- These arguments between Kevin Nash and Triple H are a lot like the fights that my best friend Stephen and me have been having lately. Before he left, I got a text message from his phone that asked me to "stick" the entire Pacific Ocean if something bad happens to him. Stephen said he never sent the text, even though the text came from his phone. Somebody is lying here, and it's not me.
He thinks that I text messaged myself from his phone to make look like he sent it to me, but I really didn't. That's not it at all. The real story is that he sent a text message to me from his phone, then I sent that same text message back to me by sneaking into his office and sending myself an identical text from that phone. Is that right? Hmm. Uh, wait. No. Let me try this again.
Here’s how it went down. We both sent text messages from each other's phones to ourselves to make it look like one person sent both messages to the other person, but it turns out a mystery third person sent both messages to both phones from a mystery third phone. Hold up. Were there three phones, two phones and a tin can, or one phone, one tin can, and a tin phone? I'm lost. Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I made WWE cool a gain.
- That's really nice of wrestlers to wait until after the commercial break to decide who wins the match. Wrestling is good like that. I think they learned how to do it right from movies when they're shown on television. They don't end during the commercials either.
In real life, you know those two wrestlers don't like each other, but even they can wait two or three minutes to beat each other up. While you're in the bathroom or working on your arts and crafts, they're trading casserole recipes.
- To prove that I don't have high standards when it comes to girls, I created a rating scale for the WWE Divas. It goes from 1 to 10. If you're a 1, you might as well be a legit man. A 10 is almost perfect, like Trish Stratus if she improved her looks by a lot. A whole lot.
This is my list:
Brie Bella: 1 (Not hott.)
Nikki Bella 7: (Hott.)
Natalya: 1 (Tiny coats. She has an Incredible Hulk transformation fetish or the opposite of Wade Barrett Coat Disease.)
Beth Phoenix: 0.5 (Her full name is probably Elizabeth. That's the least sexiest name ever. Her middle name is probably Gertrude or Holly. And she's not a bird rising from the ashes in Arizona. False advertising.)
Alicia Fox: 2 (Go lease your own fox, lady. What about cars? Do you like cars? I'm sitting on two 2006 Ferrari F430 Spider timeshares. I'm all in here.)
Layla: No rating. (I can't tell if she still exists or not.)
Rosa Mendes: 2 (Former model. Czech. Yuck.)
Tamina: 9 (Tamina's body is Slammina. Yeah, I said it. Get at me.)
Vickie Guerrero: 2.5. (Rating will be higher when she finally gives in and teams up with a cougar wearing a Vickie Guerrero necklace. They will fight crime.)
Askana: 5 (One of the hotter Lithuanians in WWE. And she's right, you know. I was born to drive around in style every other week for two months. You know what? Give me a third timeshare.) Maryse: 4.666666666666 (Too blonde.)
Kelly Kelly: 4.5 (Not blonde enough. Colour, colour, colour.)
Eve: 4 (Pluses: Nice hair. Minuses: Butt chin.)
Kaitlyn: 1.5 (Choose a hair colour. Stop playing games.)
AJ: 9.999999999999 (Inside Out looks promising. Triple H was an amazing choice. The resemblance is ccccccrrrrrrraaaaaazzzzzzzzzaaaaaaaayyyyyy.)
- You know the tank that D-Generation X used on their farewell tour? Is the tank that the old DX invaded WCW with its dad or something? If so, was its mom the Norfolk Scope in Norfolk, Virginia? Yeah? He's got bad parents then. If I remember right, Triple H and Shawn Michaels did gross stuff with its turret, and its folks did nothing. Where's tank services?
My parents aren't perfect, but at least my dad has no problem turning corners and my mom doesn't constantly put out to a bunch of sporting events and concerts. I was raised right.
- Television technology isn't advancing fast enough. I've been watching Impact lately, which I really recommend as it's the Highlights Magazine of professional wrestling companies, and I feel like Brian Kendrick needs my spare change. How am I supposed to get this money to him if I can't deliver it through the TV?
Something isn’t right with him. Where I come from, a Turkish crotch flap is a silent cry for help. Putting on a crotch flap with no ties to any country is a cry for help too, but it's more of a warning whimper than anything.
If you see Brian Kendrick walking around, do me a big favour and give him some Lira. For the price of a cup of coffee a day, you can give this man a cup of coffee a day. He's gotta get off that orange juice with extra pulp or whatever goofy juice he's been drinking.
- I don't want the old Jeff Hardy back. Glow-in-the-dark paint can‘t cover up his problems anymore. He has to get it together and be more like his brother. Matt Hardy is one of those reliable and responsible guys who always makes sense and never lets you down. He keeps his head on straight. He doesn't raise any eyebrows because he has that straight head all the time.
Do you hear me, Jeff? August 31, 1977-September 15, 2011. It's about time for a new Jeff Hardy.
- Air Boom is a great name for a tag team, you guys. You're all just jealous that the WWE Universe came up with something that your precious Creative Team couldn't. Air Boom is so catchy that Evan Bourne and Kofi Kingston should start an air line together with that name. Every Air Boom airplane would randomly go to Jamaica, Ghana, or Massachusetts. Best of all, there are no bathrooms on Air Boom. If you have to take a #1, #2, or #7, you would just jump up from your chair and relieve yourself in mid-air. Finally, I can put my background in rhythmic gymnastics and my overactive bladder to good use for a change.
- I'm thinking about putting o n a wig and entering the Knockouts Division. If I'm ever going to trick Steven Tyler into giving me a contract, I better start taking these Estrogen pills on a regular basis. Until now, I've only been taking them before bed.
Oh woman, oh woman, oh woman. The Knockouts Championship comes with a free dog. I've always wanted to wear an animal around my waist. The only problem is that killer whales are way too big and slippery. Small dogs are perfect. Everyone keeps on telling me to just go to an animal shelter and get one myself, but that's no fun. They don't have women's titles there. I want what most women want. I want the best of both worlds or medicine to treat my yeast infections.
- Beer Money vs. Deer Honey. Come on already. I'm tired of waiting for this tag team dr eam match. James Storm and Robert Roode have been ducking Bambi and Winnie the Pooh long enough. This ends now. Christopher Robin can be the special guest enforcer. Balloons are legal.
Hell yeah my tumbly is ready to rumbly. I even made my own Deer Honey shirts. An angry deer skeleton is holding a honey pot with its hooves on every t-shirt. It's no big deal.
Stephen Rivera is the creator of The Swerved (2006-2010), Neon Ropes, and this column. Okay, everyone. Shut up and read what he has to say. Welcome to his column. This column has several words in it. Some are big, some are small. He wrote most of them, and they are here now. He believes that after this is over they'll be posted in government bu ildings. Why the government is involved in professional wrestling is beyond him. He also thinks it's pointless for a fan to watch wrestling shows when they can just look at his column and read about it. Anyway, please do not misinterpret the fact that he is indirectly talking to you right now as genuine interest in your opinions and attempt to discuss it with him further. End of biography.
THE TWF "MENTAL WELLNESS TEST!"
With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).