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by Marx Rayner
Dear Vickie Guerrero,

Seems the IWC is up in arms right now, after the recent rumor that you were getting paid only $500 per appearance in your integral role as General Manager of both Smackdown and Raw. On top of that, the rumors allege that you had to pay all hotel and travel expenses, which I imagine is very taxing, given the paltry paycheck for being on the road.

All I'm reading is "poor Vickie" and "what a shame".

It's more like "The bitch gets exactly what she deserves".

When I bought Eddie Guerrero's autobiography in 2005 (well, "bought" is too generous a word, since I got a used copy off of e-bay for $1.99, since my money isn't DIRECTLY going to WWE), I became aware of your existance. Unlike smart men like Billy Kidman, Diamond Dallas Page, Tommy Dreamer, and Chris Benoit who marry hot women wrestlers and valets, Eddie fell for you. At one point, you were a plain Jane, bony, doe-eyed, horse-toothed looking piece of trash that should have felt lucky to have been pounced on by "The Black Tiger". But then things changed. And by "changed", I mean by the end of the book, you went from "bony" to "too paunchy for me to consider fucking". I mean, just check out my myspace. I'm clearly a man with good hygiene and lofty standards. I'm sure Eddie is too, but his charitable side kicked in and he married you. Because Eddie is God.

And so you two have many years of apparent marital bliss. I'm sure when Eddie was on the road being awesome and carrying low lifes to the best matches they'd ever see, you were sitting at home doing what a woman should do, and that's cleaning, cooking, caring for the little brats, making sure Eddie's HGH and pain pills were readily accessible when he got home, and washing the puke stains out of his shirts, you got tell all the neighbors and friends that you were the lucky one who got to fuck Eddie Guerrero, the greatest Mexican wrestler of all time. And if you kept your ham-sucking, rice-smelling mouth shut and been the good little submissive wife and mother, it could have stayed that way.

But no. You had to ruin it.

According to his book, Eddie began to "turn for the worse", so to speak. His alcohol and pain pill addictions were immense and you began to worry for him and his effect on your daughters.

Allow me to clarify something.

See, you married into a wrestling family, so you should have been clued in sooner. Wrestlers are SUPPOSED to be alcoholics and pillheads! With the exception of CM Punk, who is a foreign creature from the planet Pepsi, wrestlers are under an obligation to be fucked up from booze, percocets, road life, wild sex with ring rats, and landing on their head from the required amount of suplexes and powerbombs they have to endure. Eddie was "normal". He was normal in the same sense that Bruiser Brody, Dynamite Kid, and Ric Flair were "normal". But you couldn't accept that, could you? No, you wanted YOUR definition of normal. You wanted a GOOD father. A GOOD husband. One who was healthy. Well, I'm sorry, Vickie, but for Eddie to be loved by the internet community, he has to meet our standards.

I mean, look at the current WWE roster. John Cena, Kofi Kingston, Batista, Jack Swagger, and all the other fruity developmental talents, we revile them because they don't know what it's like to wrestle in front of 200 people, pile into a rental car, sniff lines of coke, get hammered on booze, and drive haphazardly to the next town, apply pubic lice killer at a red light from the rat they fucked the night before, make it to the show smelling like piss and puke, spitting at fans who want autographs, and working 30 minutes with a local guy to the point where both mens' backs require some serious Demerol. What the FUCK do these guys know about that kind of romantic lifestyle? Nothing! And that's what made Eddie great. He got fucked up, could still work, and we LOVED HIM!

But you stopped loving him. You threw him out of the house! He had to go to rehab in Georgia because of you! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! Detoxing Eddie Guerrero is like making Darth Vader do his scenes sans his helmet! WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO RUIN A GOOD THING?!

Oh, I get it! You want a happy marriage! You want a normal husband who isn't going to scare the kids with drunken staggering and random spousal spats. Well, I'm sorry, Vickie, but you married into greatness and you needed to accept his perks. I guess maybe YOU just weren't good enough for HIM.

So divorce papers are served and he flips out and rams a gate with his truck and gets arrested and loses his job and we're supposed to hate him? How about we hate the woman that didn't understand him and thus DROVE him to that? It was all your fault that Eddie Guerrero lost his job. Thankfully, that allowed him to do indies for a bit and gave us fresh matches to watch. This way, we could tell WWE fans about all the great Eddie matches that we've seen that they haven't and how that makes us better than them, but that's beside the point. Eddie did get rehired, thank Christ, and this time he was sober. We still loved him, but admittedly he was a bit neutered. He became a babyface, and we tried to ignore that the marks were cheering for him along with us.

So after he wins the WWE Title and becomes a full fledged main eventer (while sober and as a company man, which we tried to ignore), he has a solid two year run. Then he died. A tragic loss for the business, moreso for his fans that cheered his percocet filled exploits than his wife who tried to change him. This should have been a time to reflect and move on, unwillingly burying a soldier who served us all well. With Eddie gone, it was the time to move on, but never forget.

But then you became a character. And it made us all so angry.

That's right. Vickie Guerrero was now a character, and a heel backing up Chavo Guerrero in his war with Rey over exploiting the Guerrero family name. You were on my TV and, much like the exema rashes on my thighs, I couldn't get rid of you. And what I will never understand is that the fans kept booing and booing and booing you, but you kept getting bigger roles. Why do people who get booed so much get bigger pushes? Edge fucked Lita, we all booed him, and he gets pushed to the main event. JBL did a Nazi salute and we called for his head. It's like WWE's trying to say "If you can get the crowd to hate you, you'll become a major heel". Whatever happened to pushing heels the fans cheered for? Why does WWE do this? In a perfect world, the cool heels would get cheered as they crush the dorky, smiling babyfaces, but that's another story.

And you continued to trample your husband's pill-popping, drink-downing, workrate-bonanza legacy by attempting to act. And you kept getting prominent TV time just because you could get the fans to react. My sister Morgan thinks I should be lenient on you because you had two daughters to take care of. I told her that if she wants to be a good mother, she'd marry someone just so he could work and she could wash their clothes. It's all women are really good for, anyway.

So after having to endure you as Edge's wife, running Smackdown and Raw, tormenting Rey Mysterio, feuding with Undertaker, feuding with Chris Benoit (no wonder he snapped), and winning the Miss Wrestlemania crown with Santino/a Marella, you finally left when you chose not to work house shows. Yeah, some work ethic. Your husband would have severed his spine just to do a 20 minute opener with Orlando Jordan. What makes you so special? You tucked your fat assed tail between your legs and quit WWE, because you're weak. Yeah, that's right. Go home to your daughters and your quiet life. And just remember how lucky you were that you got ANY attention at all. If Eddie Guerrero wasn't a chubby chaser and a nice guy, you would have married some unemployed mechanic and been beaten every night after dinner. Serves you right.

So if ANYONE complains about you getting $500 a week, I'll tell em to fuck off. It was worth watching you kill off your dignity every time you showed up on camera, just for destroying your husband's passion and aura.

You may not lie and cheat, but you stole. You stole Eddie's 'Latino Heat' and left him a rotten shell. Karma's a bitch.

Viva la raza, Vickie.

Unmericfully yours,

Marx Rayner spends his days watching wrestling and bitching about it afterward. His nights are pretty much the same, except he bitches while watching it. His mavenism of the business has left him with no time for dating, social activity, or proper hygiene, but he assures us that this is strictly by choice. His myspace is http://www.myspace.com/pwn3dbymarx, and encourages you to be his friend. He'd do the same for you.

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November 2006


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.).