LETTERS FROM MY MOM'S BASEMENT
by Marx Rayner
There comes a time in each man's life when he has to make full use of his potential. A point wherein he is confronted with an unspeakable evil, one that is so horrific, so rancid, so deplorable, that he must stand up, roll up his sleeves, and extinguish it with a bias for humanity and all that is right with the world. America has had a long history of having to do such things. We entered World War II when Pearl Harbor was attacked by Japan, and we destroyed the Axis of Evil.
Miz, in this parable, you get to be that version of America.
The Axis of Evil? John Cena.
See, this Sunday night at The Bash, you get to wrestle WWE's golden calf one on one. Now, since you're new to the main event scene, it's highly unlikely that you're going to win the match. However, WWE is probably using this as a litmus test to see if you can hang with the 'big boys'. So your objective appears to be very simple. Work hard with the time you're given, play your part well, work the crowd, keep them enthralled, and give them a match to remember. To do this would give you a sustained push, and a continued feud with Cena, where you may get to score a semi-clean win over him. You may not win the feud as the heel, but a memorable feud keeps you in the upper tier, juicing you into the system. Once there, you get consideration for World Title matches and other big money feuds, setting you up financially and possibly giving you a break into more mainstream avenues, making you into a mega star all in your late twenties.
Or....you can shoot on Cena and end his career.
Hear me out, bro.
My sister Morgan and I were taking a walk the other night. She's part of some Relay-For-Life charity and is trying to stay fit since her ex-boyfriend's aunt developed health issues from obesity. Mom says if I don't tag along and get at least under 350 pounds, she's not going to buy any more ice cream from the bulk club. So as we're walking, she asks me if I want to go with her to see The Bash at her friend Heather's place. I declined, since I refuse to watch WWE. She then asked what I thought of The Miz, and I said "He's that faggot from The Real World, right?". She responded that you were now an upper carder and facing John Cena. Immediately, you became my favorite wrestler (Jericho, if you find this letter in the locker room, please don't hate me. I love you!).
So then I made a comment about how Cena needs to die. Morgan laughed and said "Remember when Cena was a heel on Smackdown and you used to imitate his freestyles with your smark buddies?". I said she was crazy. Then she said something about me voting Cena for "Best Gimmick" in the 2003 year end awards across the board and I tried zoning her out. I deftly changed the subject by talking about how The Miz was a phenom who should be praised and she cackled, saying that not three minutes ago, I'd called you a faggot. Slip of the tongue, my apologies. I tried to deny it indignantly, but then she added that when you were in Tough Enough 4, I called you "The Reality Show Faggot" and then in 2006 when you hosted the Diva Search, I'd called you "The Seacrest Faggot". Again, denial, because I would NEVER trash a wrestler and then become enamored with him later. That's called hypocrisy.
For the rest of the walk, she kept talking about how Cena's so great because he works hard, has legions of fans, is a media darling, and stays out of trouble. She neglected to mention that he can't hit a back suplex or fisherman's suplex properly, so she's being very liberal with her praise of him. All I could think about was "If this Miz guy can take his head off, I might actually consider buying his t-shirt if he has one". That's the thing. If you work for WWE, the closest a smark will come to buying your t-shirt is to fill out the WWEShop order form and then cancel. If you work with me here, I promise to do this at least twice a week.
So this is what you do, Miz. Pay close attention.
First things first, you need to ignore the script. The WWE agents are ass-kissers. When McMahon gives them instructions, they follow them because they enjoy having jobs. Meh, some 'men' they are! Cena's likely going to enter the ring second, since he's the star babyface. Instead of letting the fans adulate their hero, just run up the aisle with a chair and bash his head in! Then while he's down, just keep on keeping on! Cena won't see it coming because he thinks you're following the script! We'll show him!
While he's down, just keep beating him with the chair. It's not brain surgery. It's assault. Aim for the had mostly, you want to try and blur his vision so he can't fight back. Then drag him to the ring and try to pin him. If he's smart, he'll stay down and do the clean job. If he tries to follow the script for the part where he's supposed to win, he'll kick out. Don't worry, this is where plan B comes in.
Pull out a switchblade and begin carving up Cena's face and neck. Cena will probably still be dazed from the chair assault, so the cutting should be easy. Just completely go to town on him with the blade. Cut him up really good. Get him to bleed all over the canvas. It's not hard, just imagine you're carving up an entire apple pie into small bits because you had your wisdom teeth removed like I did once. There's a very good chance Cena could die from this, but don't worry. As long as you yell "IT'S ALL A WORK! I'M WORKING!", then they can't press charges. If Cena's dead, just tell the detectives that Cena was calling these spots and was whispering them to you.
"REAL RECOGNIZIN' REAL! CUT MY FACE, MIZ! DA CHAMP IZZ HERE! KILL ME MIZ!"
See? Concrete alibi. If Cena dies because you killed him in mid-ring, think of the ramifications. You'll send the little kids fleeing from the arena with their families, leaving the rest of the show open for the smarter, more desensitized fans to have their voices heard. The amount of blood will violate WWE's current PG-policies and they have to keep showing the juice no matter want, since it's pay per view. You'll be fired as soon as you get back to the locker room, thus freeing you from having to work for a tyranical company any longer. Cena will never appear on Raw again, thus forcing WWE to build around someone different. The Bash will never be released on DVD, robbing WWE of potential money. The Bash will also never appear on WWE On Demand, forcing the producers to alter the future schedule. Sponsors who signed on with WWE for the PG product will be appalled by a major star dying on PPV and pull out. Families and children will traumatized at Cena's death and stop watching. All Vince will have left are the smarks, and he'll HAVE to cater to us!
Now no doubt you're thinking "Is all of this chaos and murder and horror and loss worth making a few hundred fans who never buy the shows or merchandise anyway happy?".
Well, you KNOW I'm going to answer yes to that!
So it's up to you, Miz. I've bought a cheap fedora. I Crisco'ed my hair into a faux-hawk. I modified my mom's old pantyhose into a mock version of your armbands. I suffered through ridicule down at the MotoCross store to get a pair of gloves. I'm going to dress as you on Sunday when I don't watch the show, but will be thinking of you as I will you to do the right thing. John Cena must be taken care of, Miz, and I will take back all of the horrible things I said about you over the years. And if you lose your job, don't worry. RFVideo will pay you $1000 to do a shoot interview! It may not be the $250,000 you make anually, but you'll get more respect from those of us who download the torrents instead of paying for the shoot DVDs.
And who knows, Miz. One day, I might fill out the online order form for your shoot and accidentally hit yes! It's more than I'd do for Cena, you know.
Godspeed, my friend. Do the right thing. For me?
LETTERS FROM MY MOM'S BASEMENT
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.).