Well, well, well... What do we have here? It seems Lett is on some quest to prove he can take at least as much punishment as the Angel of Death Most Exalted... It's nice to see that I still provide innovation enough to inspire these lesser creatures... Lett, never can it be said that you don't recognize a good presentation when you see it... Hell, considering your ghetto trash from Indiana fanbase is usually so wasted from the effects of marijuana smoke that they can't remember where they WERE a couple days ago, let alone what they SAW DONE... BETTER... BY BETTER in a similar timeframe...

I suppose you're just another of these 'angry black men' that takes what they can, when they can... You just graduated from hubcaps, I guess... Fine. You'll note, though, that I needed no help walking away after MY caning... I also didn't need some washed-up prostitute to save my can... How IS your sister these days? Sorry to hear that Grammy had a stroke working those double shifts at the Liquor Store, though... Now you won't be getting that employee discount anymore... Bummer.

I guess I should expect it... After all, you just picked up one of Duncan Donut's discarded personalities when you signed up... Ahh... Memories... Listen, you sorry wanna-be Psycho Phil with a tan, you're going to learn how a poor excuse for a black man REALLY gets abused and run ragged by the Man...

AND I"M THE MAN.

And where would the Man be without the PLAN? Probably in some gutter in Gary pretending to be Arsenio Hall, but I digress... No, no, no... Bobo's plan is quite simple... Bobo feels that there are too many Titles already, and none of them are being held by anyone that can KEEP them - at least not without a couple FRIENDS and some WEAPONRY - from the Most Heinous AntiChrist... Therefore, Bobo shall TAKE THEM ALL and make one BIG HONKIN' BELT... Won't that be nice? Yes, most certainly...

For too long the poor fans have wasted their good money to see some useless hack keep their belts by having their friends pitch in... You never had that when Bobo was Champ, folks, and I'm sure most of you know it... Therefore, since the only title I can't have is the Cruiserweight Strap... I will systematically expose these hopeless SCUM and take their belts from them... Sure, GungaDin can beat Babble... Sure, he can even beat Zuzu Petals... But let's not kid ourselves, folks... This 'Poacher' character doesn't have enough wrestling talent to be Barry Horowitz's TOWELBOY. Easy pickings from the Peach Tree for your pal, Bobo... School of Hard Knocks, eh? Bah. I'm supposed to be impressed - even intimidated - by a group that stole their  name  from a song in 'Annie'? It is to laugh... As a hint, Tarzan, the sun won't come out tommorow after a match with the Angel of Death Most Exalted...

As for Pimp Daddy and the Family... You couldn't even take YURINE after he HAD A MATCH with that FEEB 'True Blooper'? Sure, he's going to get some APPLE PIE when we drag him back to his closet, but I'll give him a choice... He can either go to the PPV in Bollea's old clothes to that inane 80's jingle; OR he can go in the Mother Russia suit to No Doubt's "I'm Just a Girl"... Sadly, he's lost his Beatles privilidges for sneaking out and agreeing to stipulation matches WITHOUT PERMISSION, but that's the way the Soviet Bloc crumbles...

Now to business... It seems of the SCUM in Ring One, only this PIKER Sgt. Hamster has anything to say... As I recall, he said something about 'nothing being Marine proof' regarding the ignominious method of my having the Heavyweight Strap taken away... As a history lesson, Hamster, when the brass at the Pentagon drew up the plans for the Bay of Pigs, they were very glad to note that the plans were 'foolproof'... However, the MARINES screwed up the operation so thoroughly that one of the generals first words after seeing the fiasco go down were... 'Well, I guess nothing's Marine Proof...'

And this is a PROUD TRADITION that these jarheads maintain to this VERY DAY...

You'd do better wrestling a pack of starving hyenas wearing a pork-chop suit than fighting such as I, Crewcut... IF by some miracle, you actually manage to stay on your bicycle long enough to get in the ring against ME... Well... Let's just say if I were you; I'd pick a nice place in Arlington in advance... Marines... Bah. You want a piece of ME, boy? Pack a lunch... You're in for a LONG day...

Now, just so nobody can say that I'm looking past the Job Squad that has the dubious honor of sharing the ring with me, let's make fun of them a smidge... Babble, I have already seen to it that you can't go into any hospital in the world without sending a signal to my laptop's Global Positioning System... Not that I think you're really hurt, mind you, but Medical Science has until Tuesday evening to find a cure for cowardice, and knowing you, you'll be first in line for a booster...

ExFoley... Sheesh... You're going to be reunited with your career SOON... Contary to what you might think, Vince didn't bury you... But's he's more than welcome to grab a shovel and help ME do it... Heh. You are not the King of Hardcore anymore - assuming you ever were to start with, considering Terry Funk copyrighted that little title... But I digress... You say Pain's your only friend? She's too good for you, and I'm going to make sure you never see her again... PERIOD.

Smokey... Come alone, come with a date, come with Oscar Gonzales, it makes no difference... You're STILL leaving that ring SHORTLY after I get my hands around your scrawny chest... Look at the bright side, though... They'll REALLY know what a high-flyer you are in the seventeenth row... AFTER YOU LAND IN THE SIXTEENTH. Luchadores... Yo quero talent... Heh.

And finally, Duncan Donut... I don't think a gay man is lower than anyone else - well, maybe while another gay man has his pants down, but I digress... You are ALL equally worthless as far as I'm concerned, and you can quote me... As for nobody getting away with calling you an idiot... That's funny... You see, I don't call an idiot an idiot any more than I'd call a donkey a jackass... He KNOWS what he is WITHOUT me TELLING him... But, since you seem to think that if I call you an idiot, you'll somehow muster enough ability to keep me from throwing you into the seat next to Smokey, so be it... Phil McKracken is a bona fide idiot. 100% dummitz. A retard with a disguise kit. An imbecile with multiple personality disorder. A moron in a costume shop. Grade A Gump. Stupido the Sword Swallower...

Come get some... There's plenty of THRASH for ALL YOU TRASH. I've stocked up to meet the demand...

Nobody leaves empty handed....

Everybody gets a prize...

Today's prize is an all-expense paid First Class Flight to Loserville... No stopovers.

You're welcome... See you SOON.