PUNJAB, India- The sun was just setting over the Indian province of Punjab. Yes, Punjab! It is actually a real place! Pronounced "Poon- Job". Seriously.  You know, POON as in PUSSY! Vince can't stop laughing! Why they'd name their province after something that sounds like going down on a woman is anyone's guess! I blame the fact they're not Americans, and thus they have a natural predisposition towards savagery, stupidity and evil. It's true. We wouldn't promote foreigners in such an intelligence-insulting manner if it wasn't! French Canadians side with terrorists! Iranians have no quams pretending to be Iraqi's! And Russia's still communist until the Chairman says otherwise!
Moving on...
The dirt roads were empty; the marketplace was deserted; the roadside holes people defecate into because they have no concept of toilets were unoccupied; and the denizens of the community had gathered in the center of the sand-shrouded city. I propose its "sand covered" because all those darkies look alike over there in those funny places, don't they? Arabs? Indians? What's the difference? I mean, they wear those silly towel hats, right? They smell, right? It's Un-American.
In any event, huddled around a television set  --a Western-inspired artifact-- the only one to make its way overseas--- unlike soap and toothbrushes-- they witnessed an UNEXPECTED conclusion to The Great Khali's World Heavyweight Championship celebration on SmackDown: Good booking and quality wrestling . Almost gotcha! Seriously, though, the glow of the small screen illuminated the villagers facial expressions, revealing a shared reaction in the champion's own hometown: Utter shock . Or maybe it was Udder shock. After all, the Hindu nation collectively celebrates and reveres cows, which I might add make for some delicious sandwiches and surprisingly comfortable pants, divinity or not. Just saying.
In awe of the tyrannical figure of their culture's mythos, the crowd was silent from the beginning. Most likely because-- like the rest of the world-- they had no idea just what the fuck it was that Khali was saying.
Their stillness told a tale of engrossing fear rather than celebration (and not boredom, we swear)-- a fear first learned when The Great Khali walked among them. Or should I say, ploddingly lumbered among them. His immobility is the stuff of legend. That and escaping the country's most infamous correctional facility, The Punjabi Prison. A structure made of bamboo, that had no roof, and had two dudes randomly opening doors every 2 minutes. It was thought to be inescapable. What could have gone so wrong? 
Among droves of Punjabi citizens that flocked to watch, none appeared in festive garb and, despite Ranjin Singh's claims, there was no grand merriment and no cheering. Fireworks most certainly did not dance overhead in the fiery sky. And the reason there was no 'fireworks' was because all the village's money went towards the TV and subsequent satellite dish needed to even get fucking Smackdown. Stupid dirty-brown he-shes. What's food , lodging and medical care, WHEN YOU CAN CHANGE FRIDAY NIGHTS.
For many, it was the first time they'd actually seen the colossal tyrant whose legend bore an oppression that even the driest heat in the nearby Rohi Desert could not rival. It's true. Most would rather pick the dried snot bubbles from their nostrils than sit through the ploddingly horrendous offense perpetrated by Khali in one of his "Matches".
A few of the elder more reverent villagers looked on pensively as they witnessed what they believed might be the fulfillment of Punjabi prophecy in Khali's championship reign. Yes, a PROPHECY. Hundreds of years ago a legend was birthed where one day, a man with seemingly no athletic talents whatsoever would win a fake fighting championship only because he was tall and like every other guy who would have gotten it was either hurt or Batista. Man, they really had too much time on their hands.
Young children and adolescents soon broke the silence, whispering questions to their elders in an attempt to gain an understanding of the fabled giant. Good luck there, douchebags.
Never before had this community seen the 7-foot-3 titan opposed-- let alone physically confronted by any man who lived to tell of it. It's true! Ask that one Asian dude about it sometime! OOPS!
Minutes after Ranjin Singh told of the widespread exultation of Khali's countrymen, a resolute and valiant Batista curtailed the champion's lavish self-celebration and ultimately brought the goliath down. To Chinatown. Which is somewhere around India, isn't it? All these countries look the same, after all.
Once The Animal speared Khali, the throng of viewers looked stunned, many of them gasping as the man who had allegedly been revered -- even worshipped -- by his fellow Indians was brought down by The animal. "Perhaps they chose the wrong completely immobile unintelligible tall dude to nonsensically worship", they thought amongst themselves. Maybe.
In a single moment, the lore associated with a monster who had "conquered every beast in the wild Punjab jungles"...with brain chops and big boots, and not say GUNS, was suddenly contradicted. In response, the natives did not appear to be loathsome of Batista, but rather seemed more astonished to see their myth literally busted by an Animal. Myths that is, and not SPINES.  Clearly, this was an Animal they could TRULY worship, because seriously, what's a fucking cow compared to an Animal that can deliver SPINBUSTERS? Exactly.  And who knows? Get enough hormones into him, and you might be able to milk him, too!
None would comment on what they'd seen-- because like so many of us, they turned off the TV the moment Khali came on the screen; though many stood with their mouths agape, the parched lips of some casting near-indiscernible smiles at the sight of the fallen giant. Then they remembered that they had dysentery and lived in poverty and went right back to being depressed. Can't say I blame them.
This reaction told of the indisputable impact made on a culture that had never before seen their 420-pound despotic idol CHALLENGED.  Mostly because even an uncivilized culture knew better then to ever book a match with this clumsy motherfucker.
It also may have revealed somewhat of an inconsistency in Singh's claims that Khali is so greatly beloved in his nation. But hey, whatever. We insist to America that John Cena's popular here, too, so no harm no foul.
The unanticipated events of Friday Night SmackDown may have ultimately proved to be a sign of liberation for the Punjabi populace from the oppressive hand of The Great Khali. A HAND THAT CHOPPED MANY OF THEIR BRAINS. But More importantly, it might be a sign that Khali is the next mountain The Animal is focused to conquer (as "Pits of Danger" are apparently old hat by now). 
Batista's mission to reclaim the World Heavyweight Championship appears far from over! Seriously. He's had what? 46 straight title shots now? Heaven help us! Or whever you go when you believe in women with eight arms and dude's with elephant heads.
The Preceding was a PARODY of THIS abhorrently terrible article that recently appeared at WWE.com. Hey, if he can be blatantly ignorant and quasi-racist, why can't we? (except for the quasi part...).
I'm Sean.