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By Sean Carless.
 
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through an arena,
Not a superstar was pushed, bar John fucking Cena;
The midcard was buried, pinned by DX with care,
In hopes that their Wrestlemania's payoff 
soon would be there;
 
FCW grads were nestled all snug in their limbo's,
Their main roster dreams squelched, leap-frogged by some bimbos;
When suddenly a Wolverine, on the night he was getting the strap,
 He dealt out some domestic crossfaces and decided to snap!
 
But then out of nowhere there arose such a clatter,
Mr. Kennedy of all people rose to put his two
cents in on the matter!
Away to the media Ken flew like a flash,
Saying "there's no more steroids in wrestling!"...all while forgetting to hide his own stash.
 
The Media was up Vince's ass from his head to his toe!
Trying to figure out who was on steroids and who was on blow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should suddenly transpire?
But fucking Marc Mero on TV calling Vince McMahon a liar!
 
With a face frozen with botox, so unmoving and cold;
The TV said 'superstar' yet not a single buy had he sold.
Faster than you can say bullshit, more cling-ons they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called Vince out by name;
 
"Now, Orton! Now Hunter! Now Lashley! And 'Tista!
Their ain't a single one not juicin', Vince himself not the least!"
From the dregs of wrestling's past came even more bottom-feeders
No one was safe from their charges, not even the important locker-room leaders!
 
Debra claimed that life with Stone Cold the punches would fly,
Opening up cans of whoop-ass that done left her with many a black eye.
The piston-like rights rained and the Thesz presses they flew,
Stomping mudholes in her ass because of roid-rage and far too much brew.
 
Soon however, the industry rolled on with full dignity and grace;
Bar any mention of Chris Benoit, whose proof of existence was launched deep into space.
But at least Hunter returned to the roster, pinning all in his path,
Not a single tag team, heel or face would not feel his wrath.
 
He was dressed all in black, and carried a hammer,
He showed no vulnerability, not even a stammer;
But still, there wasn't a thing WWE could not handle!
Well, until 12 dudes got busted in the Signature Pharmacy scandal!
 
Now, some people would be broken, but Vince was NOT done;
He said "Fuck you, Mr. Kennedy" and made a midget his son!
The "laughs" went on and on for weeks at a time,
Those of us not ten wondered if TV this bad was a crime.
 
However, Orton versus Cena soon emerged from this wreck;
Creating new interest until The Champ tore off his pec.
The Marine went down for 8 months, leaving the title in doubt;
But Hunter stepped forward saying "I'll win the bout!"
 
But Orton still got the gold, and received Hunter's "Rub";
But not before he and Umaga were pinned and made to look like a scrub.
With a thunderous pedigree and long three-counted fall,
The Audience was reminded who should have really stood tall.
 
Hunter still had belt number 12, and I guess he was pleased,
Because Orton moved onto Michaels, Skinner's hat and two wobbly knees.
But all was not finished, as a Savior returned;
With apathy in the Carolinas and some new lessons learned.
 
Don't expect to get shit in the south unless your name is Flair;
And for god sakes, Chris, cut that gay hair!
And when you don't get over, I'm sure Hunter'll be ready;
He'll take your Wrestlemania slot and not 'cause he's petty.
 
It's just that there's no one left, and he IS THE GAME;
It really doesn't matter that every year the Main event is the same!
WWE never changes and won't 'til Vince is not here;
So, Merry Christmas to all!... and expect the same shit next year!
 
I'm Sean.
 
 
Sean Carless is a man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an ever-increasing bald spot. Sean's various scribblings have been read at Live Audio Wrestling, 411 Mania, Wrestlecrap, Honky Tonk Man.com, The Toronto Star.com, and Lethal Wrestling. He has also cured AIDS.

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TWF FLASHBACK

November 2006

SATIRE: DISCONTINUED WWE XMAS PRODUCTS!

by Sean Carless

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.).