"Why am I not coming back to wrestling? Four words: Minnesota Vikings Boat Party.”
         -Brick Lesnor to Vinnie Max, October 2005  
 

Poll Question: What will you think about Johnny ITR’s pinch-hit writing duties?

A) It will be like when Billy draws The Family Circus…but BETTER!!!
B) He was BORN TO RUN this joint!
C) SCHNITSKY!!!
D) Give the job to Dartmouth Graduate Christopher Lewinsky
E) YES!

You can find that poll along with la…wait. Who cares about last week’s poll? The Apprentice is in charge now! PERIOD. That means I’m free to make my own rules, cover the stories I deem important, and create my own catchphrases! I don’t even have to make fun of the idiot Pyrofalkon and his stupid column. That being said, I guarantee that this will be the most unique column ever!

EVER!

Let’s go to the headlines:

After the main event of Turning Point Break, Double Jeff Jarrod was celebrating his victory over The Rookie Monster Rhino Richards when, in an unprecedented move, THE LIGHTS WENT OUT! Obviously, everyone in the arena thought that one of the fuses blew, but not Johnny ITR! I opened up my laptop-which still had 34% battery life left-and went to OnlineOnslaught.com, which is always up-to-the-afternoon with breaking news.. Sure enough, over an ad for a used WWF Degeneration X In Your House VHS, there it was: a spoiler! But I didn’t click on it, so I have no idea what happened. I’m sure Jarrod hit it with a guitar, though.

Fans live at Eric Bischov’s Monday Night RAW were treated to a memorable promo by wrestler-turned-teacher-turned- concert-pianist-turned-wrestling-teacher Matt Heidenstrieich. He wrote some shit down on a chalkboard and started lecturing about something dumb. I wasn’t paying attention because I was too busy passing notes to Jason Longshoreman and drawing sketches of The Big Stupid Red Machine Kane as a West Coast Rapper to really care.

Also at Shane O’ Max’s Monday Night Raw, WWE Undisputed Other World Champion John Ceno ("World Life!") wore a yard of Seranwrap around his face and eventually passed out on top of Duhvari for the win. This makes nearly 3 years since this Parappa wannabe has lost a match, meaning he’s almost as annoyingly unstoppable as the title character in the Blockbuster new flick Peter Frampton’s King Kong. Let’s look at that potential dream matchup:

King Kong: Fay Wray, who was stupid enough to think that Woman and Ape could mix
Ceno: Maria Tennyson Lund, who was stupid enough to think that her looks alone would get her far in life. Oh, wait….

Dinsosaurs:

King Kong: Gorilla presses a Tyrannasaurus in the new film
Ceno: Once in the same ring with “The Nature Guy” Ricky Flare.

King Kong: Apes Grunting, women screaming
Ceno: Him rapping

King Kong: Grape Ape. Grape Ape.
Ceno: That guy on the corner trying to sell some Heroine and Cokecane, yo.

King Kong: Giant Ape Penis
Ceno: Spinner Belt

Fighting attire:

Kong: Black single-strap singlet
Ceno: Dayton Flyers Throwback Jersey

Kong: Asking referee to count to five.
Ceno: Applying pressure to stab wounds

Kong: Steel Cage Showdown at RascalMania Too
Ceno: Battle Rap versus The Monster Haku

There you have it. Could John Ceno triumph Peter Frampton’s King Kong. YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY! (Note: that catchphrase is to replace “THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENT” from now on.)

Who the fuck cares?

Okay, how does Bulldog fill this thing up with so much crap? There really isn’t that much news to make up report every week, is there? No wonder half the column is trading cards now. With that, then, I guess it’s time to tell the story that all the kids want to hear this holiday season. So, grab some gravy-flavored eggnog and curl up next to a big raging fire (preferably in a fireplace). Johnny ITR and Inside the Ropes bring you THE ONLY Armageddon Pay Per View Preview you need! Will this be a holiday classic? YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY! (See: much better!)

Twas the night before PayPerView, when all through OO
Not a soul gave two shits about the next Smack! Down show
The matches were put together with nary a care,
Armageddon was bound to pull a record-low share

Randy Orton was nestled all snug in his cell,
Awaiting Taker’s entrance, which was boring as hell
Paul Bearer in his cement coffin, somehow eating a wrap,
I couldn’t believe I was paying for this crap.

When out on the ramp there arose such a clatter,
The crowd sprang to its feet to see what was the matter.
The arena went dark, but there appeared a bright flash,
It was cheap as they come, but way faster than Nash.

The Druids appeared and filed in row by damn row
Orton started drooling at the torches’ bright glow
When, what to my wondering eyes was macabre?
It was the Undertaker, and eight tiny jobbers!

They were all little guys, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment I was going to be sick
More rapid than X-Pac these cruisers they came,
The Deadman’s eyes rolled back and he called them by name!

"Now Juvi! Now Rey Rey! Now Psicosis and Paul!
On, Hardy! On, Kash! On Simon and the other Paul!
To the top of the ropes! To the top of the cage!
Now job away! Job away! But me don’t upstage!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the Cell-top the jobbers they climbed,
Orton had no choice but to follow behind.

And then, in an instant, bodies started flying
“ORTON! ORTON! BAH GAWD ORTON!” was actually trying
Cruisers plummeted down from the hellacious roof
And then he bragged about it but came out a dumb goof

“Your jobbers can’t hurt me, I’m Randy Orton
My favorite book is about this creature named Horton
I’m the Legend Killer, my skills ain’t diminished
Get in this Cell, so I can start what I’ve finished!.

Taker’s eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
He was out of character due to free holiday sherry!
But Orton didn’t notice as he stood upon the steel,
Until he wisened up and tried to broker a deal.

“I’ll give you anything, Taker, if you’ll just let me go,
Whatever you do, please don’t chokeslam me below
I have to live off my looks and my rock-hard belly
You know I can’t survive as my brain be of jelly!”

He “acted” in terror, but instead looked like an elf
It was so bad I laughed, in spite of myself!
Taker did too, and gestured to his head
“You know you can’t kill what’s already dead.”

Enough about the crowd, though; Taker went straight to his work,
Clobbering Orton with soupbones and crushing that jerk.
Randall took all he could from the superior foe
When out of fucking nowhere he landed an RKO!

“Nothing You Can Say” blasted through the arena
Orton started gloating like he was John Cena
But I heard him exclaim, as he struck that damn pose
"Happy Armageddon to all, boy your lives blow!"

See? I bet there’s not a dry eye in the house!

Now that I’m in charge, it’s time to look in Canadian Bulldog’s mailbag. Which is funny because most people use email nowadays. I guess one of my jobs is to open the four letters he gets a week, so let’s take a look!

Q: Hey, Bulldog: are you my father? If so, meet me by that statue of the kid who found the severed hand.

A: THANKS FOR THE POSITIVE REMARKS!!!

Q: Who is going to be the next General Manager on Eric Bischov’s Monday Night Raw?

A: All signs point to Dustracks on the Rhodes (The American Dreamer himself) to take control of the ship and conduct it straight through the tunnel of success in 2006. Look for new innovations, like mandatory polka dot ring attire and an “Elimination Chamber Match, if you wheeeeeeeel.”

Q: Who has the best finishing move of all time? I say it’s Charlita Caribeean Cruel, but my friend says it’s Chris Masterpiece. What do you think?

A: GOOD QUESTION!

Q: Hi Johnny ITR! This is Canadian Bulldog (don’t pretend like you don’t know who I am!). Look, I know you’re reading these letters, and I’m sure that things are going fine. Do me a favor, though, and tell the good folks out there how well I’ve trained you. Peace, Out, Canadian Bulldog.

A: Sure thing, you stupid son of a…

Ahem. Well, the Q and A was cut short, so let me move on to the next subject:

It began like many apprenticeships, such as Eric Bischov and Johnny Thurnder, and, uh…you get the picture. He started training me in all things reportery: faking interviews, faking scoops, faking my own death. It was a relationship built entirely on trust and filled with many heartfelt, genuine vignettes.

I remember we were playing Monopoly one time, and Bulldog was very excited to buy Marvin Gardens; it was the last yellow property he needed. So he plopped down $1000 in Canadian currency (which, ironically, is cheaper to use than real Monopoly money) and demanded, “BANK ON IT!!!”

“What?” I replied.

“BANK ON IT!” He shouted again, gesturing toward the game board.

“What?” I again quizzed him. I had no idea what he was guaranteeing.

“Put a BANK ON IT!” This time he put his finger right on the property. It took me twenty minutes to explain to him that you put hotels, not banks, on Monopoly properties, but he enjoyed the game so much that I actually convinced him that he won $15 in a beauty contest. “THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENT!” was also born that night.

Our relationship wasn’t always fun and games, though. He made me cover the worst wrestling shows around, including Sunday Night Cheap Heat and Smack! Down. I’ve seen more Val Venus matches than anyone, except for maybe Visceria. When I wasn’t writing his column for him or dragging him out of late-night Toronto Pizzerias, he would open up and share his true feelings on life. But no one wants to hear that stupid crap.

The End.

Well, was that the best edition of Inside the Ropes that you’ve ever read? YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY! EVER! Before I go, though, I want to say a quick word about Bulldog’s book, THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENT!!! My name is in it multiple times. In fact, even my cat likes it!

Anyway, I just received a fax from Las Vegas and it looks like The Boss (no, not Springsteen, IDIOTS) will be back next week, covering the best of the year. Let’s just pretend this whole incident never happened. You can pretend by emailing stocking stuffers to [email protected]. So, for the sake of all that is holy, make sure to send Canadian Bulldog some beautiful Christmas cards. And remember, if you heard it here first, it’s…Inside the Ropes.