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!
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