Much like Nicole Eggert bouncing into our hearts, on my close personal friend Scott Baio’s hit show Charles In Charge, Total Nonstop Action has exploded into the psyche of the sports entertainment fan with a list of unique innovations like the incredible athletes of the X-Division fighting over the X-Division title in the Ultimate X, and still having time to represent their country in the International X Cup, and fight off Kevin Nash’s X-Division siege. Who could forget the sports entertainment value of Ms. TNA? Or Kip James’ hair? Who needs Harry Smith, Johnny Nitro, Bobby Lashley and Carlito when you have the fan favorites Lance Hoyt, A-1, Machete and Apollo?  And don’t ever forget about the Phenomenal A.J. Styles – the man that said no to OVW. Maybe he can’t speak intelligently for an extended period of time, but at least you don’t see him walking around like a Chicago gangster! I’m not one to drop names, but at a particularly rowdy night at the Rock & Bowl on Friday, a man who I’ll call “the kid who played Wesley T. Owens on Mr. Belvedere” let me know that not only are those guys up there so fearful of TNA that they not only have an imitation of our Samoan Submission Machine, Samoa Joe, but they’re trying to re-create the magic of ECW! As the great stars in the TNA locker room, such as Jeff Jarrett, Scott Steiner, Kevin Nash, Konnan, Buff Bagwell, Shane Douglas, Terry Taylor, and Lex Luger, will tell you: any company that tries to copy a promotion that killed itself dead is doomed for failure. Indeed!

(Editor’s Note: At this point, a confused Sheik then turned towards a vending machine and started to hold a conversation with it, occasionally punching it and screaming that it “owed him medicine,” before asking two young women walking by if he could “humble them,” before soiling himself, and passing out.)

The Warrior is quite familiar with that definition. The cretin slime known as “Vince” has many times tried to play with the Warrior as if I have as little education as the unwashed masses that make up wrestling fans, and for that matter the planet Earth. One of those cretins, James Guttman – a “man” who fancies himself a scribe on the world of a phony theatre rife with leeches and feeble-minded cowards, has pulled out his crayons and drawn a portrait of life in Stamford. Usually, Warrior does not waste his precious moments on reading drivel, but when my web minion informed me of the book’s title, I was intrigued, so I made him read it to me as I traveled the galaxy harnessing the power of the solar system, preparing for what will be the inevitable revolution of the elevated tribe of Warriors. Much like the Warrior - who will soon rub the heel of our boot directly into the gluttonous man-breasts of the flabby shame of what America has become, before enslaving their already soft brains into hard labor in the land of the Warriors - Guttman attempts to take down the idiotic shenanigans that pass as televised “entertainment” spewed forth by Vince McMahon and his boy Hunter. He amused me until he talked about Galoogore, the leader of an eternal army, as an explanation for the McMahon characters over the years. I had planned to wait until I ridded this country of illegal beaners – WARRIOR IS NOT P.C. – to return to my battle with Galoogore. He stands between true eternal domination by the Warrior and I will not rest until he pays for his evil energy that fuels the McMahon clan, and any part he had in the making of the slanderous DVD about me.

(Editor’s Note: Due to Warrior continuing on for 28 more pages, including using verbiage that caused our spell-check machine to actually cry human tears, we have chosen to truncate his response at this point. Derek then cried real human tears when he drew the short straw at the GumGod reunion show, and was forced to transcribe The Iron Sheik’s unplanned, unwanted, opinion on James’ book, that he may or may not have the ability to read.)