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,
M.R.