“I knew you’d say all that stuff.” – Eminem probably.
Look at the asshole! Getting all hot and bothered about the fact that I get more TV time than him and then has the nuts to call me boring. The hilarity in that statement after seeing show after show sell out, while every week I’m a featured talent and you’re at home on the couch…right where you fuckin’ belong.
So, shut the fuck up, bitch. Before I feed your sorry ass to Bobinette Carey for shark week.
It’s no wonder everyone is saying the same shit about you, Chris.
Cause it’s fucking true.
You’re an over decorated, fake, star spangled, cry-baby bitch that didn’t do shit about shit, and stayed home with the rest of the chicks that didn’t want to go to war and now you want me to shut up about my time in the service? That’s not how this works.
Look, we all fucking get it bro.
You’re soft like Charmin.
Over explaining the why’s and how’s of your lack of service to our great nation only makes it fucking worse, Chris. Go home and play with your fuckin GI Joes and fantasize about being a courageous, bald eagle master, hero of heroes, soldier of soldiers, like me. Cause that’s the closest you’ll ever get to know what it feels like to truly be a man, you fuckin’ pussy.
Imagine calling another man a “toxic male.” I’m just a man that does man shit. If that looks like toxic masculinity to you, you’ve been spending too much time in the nail salon with the rest of the women. Maybe you should go back to college and learn more about Liberal Arts and join the swim team and really dig into your feelings about just how toxic I am. Let me guess, “that’s sexist,” insert cry face emoji here.
“Man-gina?” Did you really fuckin’ say that shit out loud and think it was a whitty response to literally anything? What is this 2002? I guess that sounds about right. I mean, you’re still having clothes made by Tommy Hilfiger for fuck’s sake. 2002 was the last time your punk ass was doing anything compelling without my name attached to it. Believe me when I say that you’ve been the least interesting motherfucker around until Valor swooped down from the rafters and did exactly what he was trained to do, except for ripping out your still beating, black, commie heart.
You were looking like a real strong man trying to defend yourself from a 50 pound fuckin’ bird too, by the way. You curled up in the fetal position like some kind of fuckin’ Democrat trying to sway people on socialism while texting on their iPhone and being simultaneously offended by…I don’t know, fucking anything. Get it the fuck together.
Side note: Chris America is the reason gas prices are six-dollars a fuckin’ gallon right now.
You’re about as useful as an old man that just fell off his fuckin’ bike in front of a huddle of reporters who didn’t bother to try and catch him. The only difference is that that you don’t run shit but your mouth.
I’m the angry one?
That’s almost as laughable as that bullshit you call wrestling gear. We all know you bought that at a Spirit Halloween, on aisle five next to the Ironman masks. Next time they thaw your sorry ass out for War Games, get some style sense and grow a backbone, you spineless prick.
You really don’t understand what this title shot means to me, do you? You think the shit that Mike Best did to Max Kael was bad? Just wait till I get my hands on you. This is the culmination of 10 years of Steve Solex in HOW; this is it for me. This is the pinnacle. If I lose to you, I don’t know if I’ll have another opportunity. I can’t hold back, not even a little bit. If you have to die for me to get what I want, then so be it.
I’m a Natural Born Killa, and I know exactly what it feels like to take the life of another man. And guess what? I sleep perfectly comfortable every night knowing that some widow somewhere is waking up next to an empty dent in her bed. So, there’s not a single fuckin’ reason that I can’t and won’t do it again. Especially to a sack of shit like you.
While you’re sleeping, I’m working. Bitch.