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by Marx Rayner

Dear Jeff Hardy,

I've wanted to tell you to your face just how sick you make me. The face paint. The girlie hair. The loose fitting jeans (I can NEVER find a pair like that for myself). The way the women scream like you're Jim Morrison or Corey Haim or whoever women love. Your gymnastic-based offense that has nothing to do with wrestling (and I know I mark when indie guys do flips and stuff. But the rule is you have to be under 5'10 and not in WWE for me to enjoy it). Point being, I hate your guts. I cringed when WWE brought you back. I shuddered when they began pushing you again. I almost cried when they put the WWE Title on you. It's like Vince McMahon WANTS me to be unhappy. Nevermind the title reigns he's given to Benoit, Guerrero, Punk, Jericho, Angle, Edge, Christian, Matt....those are just examples of him buttering me up so he can screw me royal by making you champion. I'm on to him!

But despite all of this, you stand a chance of doing good. Yes, Jeff, you can make me really happy if the rumor making the rounds holds true. That is, the rumor that with your contract set to roll over later this summer, that you're contemplating walking away from WWE due to burn out and other reasons. Frankly, this news excites me. Not like those fake nudes of Jeri Ryan excited me, but excitement ensueth nonetheless. With you out of the picture and off writing another song about originality or your dead mother or whatever, I can finally achieve peace.

See, Jeff, here's the problem. I have a little sister. She's 21 and her name is Morgan. She is absolutely gaga over you, for reasons I'm never going to fully understand. The walls of her bedroom are one gigantic mural of your career. Action shots, posed shots, drawings she's made. She has at least 2 dozen of your action figures on her book shelf (the Matt Hardy figures are in her clothes hamper until he turns face again). She even gets her retainers in purple and neon green. Point blank, she's devoted to your every move and every word. See, when I wallpaper my wall with photos of Kimberly Page, I get grounded and sent to therapy. I suppose the ones I drew personally were a little disproportionate, but it's subjective! Besides, they can't prove that the guy I drew fucking her was me! He didn't have an athsma inhaler!

Her and I fight all the time over wrestling. It all started back during the Attitude era when she first started watching. She really started getting into boys, and I called her "Little Pat Patterson" as a result. Neither her or any of her school friends got the joke, but they're just not "inside" like you and me are. But she began to love you and your brother and it bothered me. She liked you guys more than The Radicalz, which bothered me. Why she cheered for two dashing, exciting, charismatic individuals over four grapplers who like to lay across their prone opponents and stretch them bugged me. Hello! It's not like your or Matt ever learned a proper bridged deathlock! Why didn't SHE see that?

We were at a cousin's house watching Wrestlemania X7 in 2001, one of the greatest PPV's of all time. It's one that I unfairly compare every subsequent PPV to. I missed the Chyna/Ivory and Vince/Shane matches because I had to use the bathroom after Benoit/Angle and "crossface myself" if you know what I mean. It was an amazing match that stole the show, hands down. Or so I thought. Just as I was washing my hands, Morgan yells that the TLC match is forthcoming. I came back in time to see the crowd going ballistic as you were just diving crazy dives through tables, rendering the Angle/Benoit match forgotten. How could you be so selfish to further your own career at the expense of the technicians? Morgan was going crazy cheering for you and I was upset. When Edge and Christian won, I just pointed at her and laughed and laughed that her man lost. So she said "So what, at least Jeff STOLE THE SHOW!". And then I lost it. Not since the day my kindergarten teacher confiscated my naked Princess Leia figure had I struck a woman, but this was different. I yanked my sister down in the Crippler Crossface and wrenched her neck back with a fury. Uncle John tried to yank me off, but I was in the zone. Finally, after Morgan threatened to tell mom about my cache of pirated porn, I let her go. Things just got worse from there.

When she got her Hardys autobiography, I drew dicks on you and Matt's faces on each picture. When Benoit broke his neck and missed nearly a year, she kept bragging that you did crazier stuff and never got hurt. When you got released a few years ago from WWE, I had her believing you were actually arrested for showing your dick to a 12 year old girl (even using my old police report and just putting your name over mine). When Chris Jericho left WWE and I called out of work for one week straight, she told my boss the truth, that I didn't have cholera after all. It's been escalating for years and I have to say that until I know for SURE that internet access in prison includes wrestling forums and newsboards, I'm not going to murder her.

The latest example of this feud is a bet that I won, where I wagered I could eat three one-pound bags of Cheetos in under ten minutes. Had I lost, I'd have to stop wearing sweatpants in public all the time. But after four minutes, I was just toying with her and took my time on the third bag. After taking the dump-of-triumph in the bathroom, I informed her of the bet that she had to fulfill. Basically, she had to watch three episodes of Ring of Honor with me. She didn't seem too upset, something about giving something different a chance or whatever, but either way, I was prepared to smarken sissy up!

So she watched with me and she REALLY ruined the fun of it for me. Questions like "Is that Mickey Rourke from The Wrestler?" and me saying "No, that's Jerry Lynn". Then she said "Oh yeah, Jeff beat him for the WWF Lightheavyweight Title!". I restrained my urge to strike her, but the night only got worse. She was unenthused with Chris Hero (HE'S THE NEW BRIAN PILLMAN FOR FUCK'S SAKE!), laughed at Brodie Lee while calling him Jason Lee's retarded brother, and she said that El Generico "looks like a guy in a bad Halloween costume". I'd had enough, so I left the room and deleted her off my myspace friends list. Now I have to find someone else to fill out my top six! And I burned so many bridges by being right all the time!

So this is the hell I go through, Jeff. You and your annoying style have brainwashed my sister. If you were a midcarder who never won anything, I wouldn't mind. But you're pushed to the top. Apparently, selling merchandise and having cheering fans will get you a push from Uncle Vinnie. Who knew? You get a new t-shirt, the women are all over it like Corey Haim naked on their bed. CM Punk gets a shirt and all of us bitch that he doesn't have enough merchandise instead of just buying that one. I can't figure out why he's not pushed more. But if you walk away from WWE, that opens the door for Punk, for Morrison, for Rey, and for others to break the glass ceiling. And they'll hopefully get more t-shirts which I have no interest in buying, but hopefully all the other smarks will do to ensure a continued push.

So take a walk, Jeff. If you leave, I'll actually watch the product. Yes, that's right. I'll at least turn the TV on Smackdown during my Warcraft raids so WWE at least gets the rating. If you want WWE to succeed, you'll give in to my demands so that I'll contribute to their growth. Do it. Do it before Morgan decides she wants to show me her new nipple piercings which I'm sure are green and purple too.

Begfully 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.).