Dear John Cena,
I feel like Blofeld
or Goldfinger, finally confronting that pesky and
urbane James Bond in a climatic scene. I still
consider myself the hero even though I'd play a
villain, because smarks know better than anyone that
you cheer the heel and boo the virtuous babyface. So
yes, I am the evil kingpin and you'll be the ladies
But anyway, I've hated you since you
became the poster boy for Monday Night Raw. You're
kid-tested, mother-approved. And I seethed with rage
as you ran through all of my heroes. Christian,
Chris Jericho, Kurt Angle, Edge, and so many others
have had to fall at the altar of Cena Christ and it
drives me insane. How can a man who can't hit a back
suplex, fisherman's suplex, or a fucking death
valley driver properly be better than all of these
Then I remembered: Vince
McMahon pushes babyfaces because they sell more
you get to be one of the top dogs because the 8-17
demographic loves you. The girls, the little boys,
and the adult women think you're hot shit because
you stand up for the side of good and all that's
right with the world, thwarting the bad guys who
carry you to the matches of your life.
what makes me so bitter, John? I can ignore you like
I've done the likes of Hogan, Warrior, Diesel, and
other bland, talentless good guys that infiltrate
the main event ranks and suck in between the ropes.
Why can't I just enjoy what's good about WWE with
the great technical wrestling in the midcard and the
occasional epic main event million dollar feud?
What's stopping me from whole-heartedly enjoying WWE
for the things I love?
My sister Morgan,
John, there's a chance you've
gotten a lot of fan mail from my ditzy, smiling,
retarded mountain of fat tits that shares my
genetics. Morgan is a fanatic over "handsome",
virtuous babyfaces and will cheer them on until they
either leave WWE, turn heel, or die in a hotel room
or their basement weight room. She messes around
with her photoshop and even did a graphic of you in
a tuxedo and her in a prom dress. That was the year
that I pulled a sweet ass prank where I pretended to
be this guy she liked and wrote her e-mails saying
he wanted to go to the prom with her. Imagine the
look on her face when he no showed on prom night and
she cried in her room until dawn! I know, you
probably think that's mean. Well, see how YOU react
when someone touches YOUR Boba Fett action figure
without your permission!
So how does this all
tie together? Well, Cena, Morgan's been driving me
crazy for years with her squeals of delight when you
come to the ring. Do you know how annoying it is
when we're on the couch and she yells right in my
fucking ear about "WHOOOOOO! I LOVE YOU CENA! MARRY
ME!" and everything you can imagine a 21 year old
female mark screaming. It's not like when I jump up
out of my chair when Takeshi Morishima drops
somebody on his head or Kenta Kobashi chops someone
and I scream "YEAH! OWN THAT BITCH! BREAKING HIS
FUCKING NECK! TAKE THAT YOU LITTLE FAGGOT BITCH!
WHOOO!". Totally different scenario here.
with Morgan being so overzealous with her love of
you, it's going to make life more difficult for me.
See, this Sunday night, Morgan and I will be making
the drive to Philadelphia to attend Night of
Champions. I didn't want to go, because I didn't
want to be seen in public endorsing a WWE product.
She gave me some half cocked shit about how nobody
knows who I am and that it's futile to think that
anyone cares what I do with my personal life. She's
an idiot, but I'll give her the benefit of the
doubt. So anyway, yeah, we're going to Night of
Champions and I can only imagine the bullshit I'm
going to have to endure.
My friend from this
one forum Samapti (username: BrodyRunsHeaven) told
me the horror stories of when he attended Backlash
this year in Providence. First, he brought in a sign
that said "BATISTA MOLESTED MY SISTER" and had it
confiscated. I mean, we're not even allowed to
slander the wrestlers we hate? What's the point of
going to a wrestling show then? Then security came
over and chewed him out for yelling "YOU FUCKED UP!"
during the dark match between Kofi Kingston and
Dolph Ziggler. Apparently, with so many kids around,
they don't want us really smart and in-the-know fans
to corrupt them. It's ridiculous!
So what are
Morgan and I supposed to do at the show? Enjoy the
in-ring product? THERE'S NO PURORESU! Mysterio vs. a
WWE developmental talent! Jericho vs. developmental
talents! Christian and Dreamer won't get the 25
minutes they deserve! Punk has to act scared and bow
before Jeff Hardy! Yeah, I'm really going to get
into this show. Sure. Just like Futurama and their
new voice actors, I'd much rather boycott this
bastardized version of a so called wrestling event.
But if I AM going, I may as well get something for
myself to enjoy. I'm not used to trying to find a
silver lining in things that piss me off, you know.
I'd rather bitch about them relentlessly. But I'm
going to ask a big favor of you, and I hope you'll
take this under consideration.
I want you to
no-show the PPV. Just don't show up. Stay out of the
building, stay out of Philadelphia altogether. Go
film a Subway commercial or read a script for a
shitty new WWE movie. Or go spend the day with your
wife or maybe hang out at some charity function for
sick kids who watch Nickelodeon all day and fondle
themselves. Whatever you do, just avoid Night of
Champions like the plague (which is what I'd rather
do, HI YO!).
I ask you this because, much
like Randy Orton's IED gimmick, I suffer from this
antisocial condition wherein I freak out if some
handsome muscle head gets all the attention from
pretty girls. If there's thousands of screaming
girls around me, I get so upset that I nearly cry.
This is why so many smarks are shut ins. They don't
go to John Mayer concerts or Orlando Bloom movies or
football games where Tom Brady plays. It's the
ultimate feeling of inadequacy when the ladies
scream and ignore us, the fat, paunchy, hairy sci-fi
loving bastards. Our only real weapon in life is
sarcasm, and we can't make witty remarks when the
women focus their attention on a hot guy. Why do you
think we hide on forums and message boards all day?
No one can scream on forums.
I can deal with
everything else. I can cheer when Punk destroys that
faggot Hardy and spikes him with the GTS. That'll be
orgasmic and I pray the losers in front of me have a
splash guard handy. Jericho and Rey can carry their
respective matches and it shouldn't be too horrible
otherwise. But this is all contingent on you not
showing up at the PPV.
See, Cena, I know the
smarks used to love you. But you're like Metallica.
In 2002, you were a hard working, underappreciated
kid. In 1984, Metallica was an underground sensation
that was working to revolutionize the industry. You
had freestyles, they had For Whom the Bell Tolls.
Then Metallica got popular with the mainstream and
so did you. Their 1991 was your 2005. A change for
the worse. They shortened their songs, you became
friendlier. Then their 1996? That was your 2007.
They changed EVERYTHING about themselves and became
more acceptable to families. And you....did the same
I sincerely hope that one day we can
be friends again, John, because it was fun. But it
has to be on my terms. Start with Night of Champions
and just take the weekend off. I don't want Morgan
or any of the teeny bopper girls screaming in my
ear. If you can jeopardize their happiness just to
make me happy this one time, I promise to slag you
less on the wrestling forums with my buddies. I
think this is a VERY fair trade and would like you
to consider it.
Good luck, John. I know
you'll do the right thing.