Hello, my intended....

Well, well, well, what can I say about this? My teammates managed to show that they WERE at least marginally enamored of their continued existences, and we won the basketball game. This pleases me. Further, some gigantic wad of chewed bubblegum thought he could claim he was a Champion in ANY fed - a delusion _I_ saw fit to grind to a halt poste haste. Now I've got a belt that says 'Are You Out of Your Freakin' Mind?'. Y'know there's a certain level of RIGHTNESS in such a belt being in the hands of the Angel of Death Most Exalted. But I digress...

Now, y'know, I'd usually make some dopey strap like this into a windchime or somesuch, but I've decided to pretend - for the sake of the fans - that it actually has meaning and defend it. This, of course, assumes that there's someone out there STUPID enough to step into the same BUILDING with me - let ALONE the same RING... Since that basically excludes anyone with two brain cells to rub together, I guess I'll have to see to some old business...

VOSS. You think you can go from a womanbeater to a child abuser and then just trot back down the yellow brick road with your new buddy 'Sweet & Low'? It is to laugh. I'm not finished with my little side mission of RE-ARRANGING the Stereo-Typical Face, and when I HAVE finally gotten the little squidgy in the ring, he'll look like a Picasso on peyote before I decide to toss him under the floorboards.

Now, I know you're all wondering... What about Blackjack? Well, I suppose I could bring up the fact that most of his kind came over in the same boats with pigs - and the PIGS complained of the smell. I suppose I could bring up that the only major contribution to humanity his kind made was alcoholism. I suppose I could even bring up that when he was in the line for 'Chins' he thought they said 'Gins' and ordered a double... Sure, I could. But I won't. Why? You already KNOW that stuff...

Don't get me wrong... Some of my best friends are potato-bugs... Heh.

BUT, when he knocks back enough of those rotgut lagers he's paid in - well, he gets rammy. Fine. Never let it be said that Bobo Q. Fiendish ducked some pickled paddy sot. If Flapjack Finnigan wants to take the Twelve Step program to stopping ALL his bad habits, then he can sign on the dotted line and take Bobo's Wild Ride. That goes for ANYONE - except Barbie. Sorry, but one thing I hate is a hypocrite, and if the Boss thinks he can swerve me by making me face some cheesecake for a Hardcore Title, well, he'll find it VERY difficult to give any more orders with my foot down his gullet like I'm TRYING HIM ON. But I digress...

So, give me whatever you want... I haven't dropkicked a midget into the cheap seats in a couple months, so if Voss or Mini-Mo want to get their names in the papers by stepping up, then they'll GET their names in the papers...

As OBITUARIES

See, I'd say getting his name in the papers was important to Flapjack, but everyone knows the only thing he can read is from a brewery... But rest assured if he wants to be stuffed feet first into his cowboy hat, I'll be happy to oblige.

You're Welcome... See You SOON.