You’re So Vain, You Probably Think This Is About You

Since I’ve come back, I’ve had this horrible feeling in my gut every time I see Bobbinette Carey on my monitor backstage or my television screen.

Every time she comes on screen, I roll my eyes as I’m about to receive another sanctimonious sermon from one of the last leeches of a bygone era of HOW.

To add more fuel to the fire, she manages to take something between myself and another wrestler and has the audacity to ask, in no uncertain terms, why she isn’t being factored into it. And the funny part is that all of this is hinged on the fact that Juneteenth takes place this month. As if somehow this American holiday has earned her the right to insert herself into our little squabble.

So, indulge me, Carey and let me educate you.

First, this isn’t mansplaining. It’s explaining from someone educated on a subject, to you, a person who thinks that reading a couple Huffpost articles and Wikipedia pages earned them a PHD in American History and Psychology.

Juneteenth entitles you to absolutely nothing when it comes to the little “dispute” that Solex and I have. I don’t care whether you are a descendant of a slave or from George Washington or Adam and Eve. You are entitled to nothing that is mine because you haven’t earned anything. You didn’t fight for freedom of the slaves. Instead, every week, you’ve managed to create tens of thousands of slaves. People that have been forced to sit and listen to you week in and week out complain about how you should be in War Games.

And yet, when given the opportunity, you choked.

So what do you do?

Do you wrestle to try to prove that it was a mistake and should be given a second chance? Do you attack members of either team in a hope to prove how ruthless you can be?

No.

You sit in the back, wringing your hands, coming up with convoluted bullshit that makes no sense, no one buys into, and no one supports. Scottywood made an opportunity happen. HE MADE IT HAPPEN! You cowered and complained looking for a handout like the bum you are.

Do yourself a favor, Carey, and save face. Lose to Harrison. Get out while you still can. Your career at this point has been embarrassment after embarrassment. Don’t add another one by thinking you actually have a chance at War Games.

I mean look at you.

It’s 2022 and you’re still trying to get “epic” over. No one chants it because no one respects you or believes in you. You call yourself a queen but you’ve been bowing to other men for the better part of your career. You bow to a GOD. You bowed to Mario. You bowed to Conor. You bowed to Scottywood.

You prostituted yourself to half the locker room begging for them to take a chance on you for War Games and they all said “no.”

No one wants what you’re selling.

You’re damaged goods.

You want people to start noticing you? How about you act like someone that hasn’t leeched onto others for your entire career. You leeched onto Shane Reynolds for a War Games win and a World Title. You leeched onto Mario for your second World Title. You leeched onto Scottywood in the hopes of getting to War Games. You leech and you leech and you leech and you drain not just the blood from everyone, you drain the hope and joy and fun out of professional wrestling for everyone.

You are the bane of HOW’s existence.

Don’t understand that? Let me put it to you in words you can understand.

You’re like Harley Quinn.

You’re played out.

You’re grating.

You’re an abysmal draw.

You’re nothing without the more famous man you’re associated with.

You want to portray yourself as a threat or deadly when, in reality, all it takes an American superhero and one deft punch to usually take you down.

Do you understand now?

Do you finally get it?

Or does the sickness kick in again for you? That desperation to be noticed kick in?

Is this the moment where you try to take what I say, spin it in a direction that you think will somehow come across as a compliment or use it as some sort of motivation?

Spare us all.

Don’t do any of that.

Instead, wallow.

Drown in my words.

Sink to the depths of self-doubt.

And stay there.

Forever.