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by Marx Rayner
Dear Chris Jericho,

To say that I'm disappointed in you right now would be a gross understatement.

I know, I know. It's the equivalent of The Pope telling Jesus that he's got a huge problem with him. Well, I'm sorry, but I can't help it, Chris. This current run you're having as one half of the Unified Tag Team Champions is less than satisfactory for me. As a matter of fact, ever since you've left the World Title scene in late 2008, you've been mired in the midcard for no apparent reason. In fact, it really IS no apparent reason. I mean, you're CHRIS JERICHO! You know what you're capable of!

But look at it, Chris. You tried to feud with Mickey Rourke, who starred in a movie about a guy who does the right thing and dies for the people who paid to see him. It didn't work out because he had clauses in his contract for Iron Man 2 that stipulated no physical activity (such as being carried to a ****1/2 match by you) was permitted. Then you wrestled Ricky Steamboat at Backlash, which WOULD have been great had it NOT BEEN THE SECOND MATCH OF THE SHOW! If there is a God in the heavens, then Triple H, John Cena, Batista, and Legacy would have all stepped aside and let you two have at least 35 minutes for the main event.

Then you and Rey Mysterio have a tremendous feud, but that too is mired because...it was in the midcard! What are you two guys, both capable of outwrestling Satan should he tried to claim your souls, doing working underneath while those anal-lesions Cena and Hunter are on top? What the fuck gives? I can't give your matches the praise they deserve because they weren't in the main event like I hoped. I'm sorry, but it's the rule.

Then you and Edge win the Unified Tag Team Titles. Then Edge gets hurt, because he's more fragile than any single atrophied bone in my body (take your pick!). So WWE commissions Big Show to be your partner. And the smark community was divided. One half loved you. The other half hated Show and wanted him dead worse than anything.

You know, I wonder why there was such a sudden descent. How did you go from playing the antagonist to Shawn Michaels in one of the greatest feuds in WWE history to all of a sudden being the little loudmouth to Show's Blutoesque bully? All of the mystique that you created by coming out with your feathered hair, five o'clock shadow, well-taylored suits, and sexy--er, intense glower....it's fading away. And it's an outrage because you haven't done anything to warrant its demise. The feud with Shawn? Carrying Raw as its champion? Making the fans boo without even trying? There is no explicable reason as to why you're suddenly having to take bumps for midcarders while Big Show saves the day with a big right hand to the opponents' faces. None at all. If I were you, I would be outraged as well.

But my confusion comes from your attitude.

As you can imagine, I follow you on twitter. Who doesn't? You're a very fan friendly personality (though 97% of your followers cheer morons like Cena and Hardy, so I wish you would disown them) and post some silly comments on your page that set the hearts of your fan populace aflutter.

But I'm not here for that.

Chris, you're being royally hosed by World Wrestling Entertainment, just like you were the first time you walked through the company doors. Triple H holds you down because you're better than him, and he can never do the things you do. He can't float through the air with a lionsault, breathtakingly so as you can. He can't captivate 15,000 fans with a soft-spoken promo, so he has to to grunt, yell, and use insider insults to make his point. How can you continue to put forth your best efforts every single day and night, knowing that they're not going to be enough to leapfrog the boring dolts like Hunter, Randy Orton, Batista, and everyone else that gets by on chemically enhanced physiques and generic offense?

But yet you do. You keep your head high, and post random, happy thoughts on your twitter account. Maybe you'll post about something you saw on a recent travel. Maybe you'll tweet about a music or movie reference. Or, my sister Morgan's favorite, you'll let us all know about an experience you had with your three children, whom you understandably love so very much.

Therein lies what I believe the problem is, Chris. You're a pained man. You're trying to seek comfort in your friends, family, and surroundings. Being on the road, knowing that you have to make Mark Henry and Cryme Tyme look good in a forthcoming house show match, it has to suck the soul right out of your quirkilly chubby torso. So you tell the world about a day you and your son spent together, knowing that a ton of ignorant fangirls are going to send you direct messages like "OOOOOH THAT'S SO CUTE!!!! <3<3<3!". Then you'll make a silly wrestling reference, and the same mass of fans will tweet back about how wonderful you are for giving them something to smile about. You're living and breathing off all of this praise, and it's apparent that with your wrestling career stalled out, you've resigned yourself to being the midcard caretaker, holding the hands of the less-talented, making sure that they don't trick over their dicks during a ten minute match. And thus, twitter is your drug of choice. I can see how it would dull the pain.

But I have a better solution. Maybe you need to go the opposite route, Chris. Perhaps you need to use your twitter to expound angrily about your frustrated state. Talk about the talent that's getting pushed over you and how fucking livid you are about it! Bury the talent that isn't on your level! Fight the power! Fight the man! Tell Vince McMahon what a ricockulous (I READ YOUR BOOK!) dullard he is and how his product is laden with cutesy crap that will do no good in the long term. Stop talking about your children and your travels and your hobbies, because they are a crutch. You were put on this earth for one reason: to outperform everyone in the ring, both physically and verbally, and THAT'S why you came out of retirement. If your kids meant so much to you, I'm sure you'd still be at home, right? Right!

Face it, Chris: you live for us. You live for me! Ash and your daughters may never understand the 'ARM-bar/arm-BAR' joke like I do. I'm always going to have your back, and that's why I'm writing this letter today. You are my idol. You are my deity. And that's why I'm disappointed to see you accept mediocrity when you clearly deserve better. And you KNOW it! Being home with family, enjoying other, quieter endeavors? That's mediocrity! And you couldn't stand it any longer, hence why you put the tights back on! You're here because you decided that wrestling for my edification is more important than being a classic dad. And I appreciate it, dude.

My deepest desire is that your second book covers all of the injustices that WWE has put you through. Let this be the story of the ages, one of how a man with limitless talent and flawless percison came to be misused in a political game. Let the truth ring out, because I will be the first one to purchase it, just as soon as I can borrow the money from Morgan.

In the end, you'll remain one of the greatest wrestlers of all time, Chris. I have no doubts. As much as it bothers me to see you squandered like this, it bothers me more to see you try and compensate by pandering to the 'twitterverse' like this. So take my advice, man. You've spent years inspiring me, so it's time I gave back and inspired you once. I've made my bones on being nasty and sardonic to those who deserve it. I think you should try it.

I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't think you were the best in the entire world. And I do! Give em the gospel, O Holy Lord.

Tamingly your loyal servant forever,

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. Marx can also be found at http://twitter.com/marxrayner, where he continues to stand behind his pulpit, expounding wrestling truth. Also, the pulpit helps him keep his balance.

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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.).