- The Diary of Mitch R. Singer
- Hanging with the Goon
- The Consummate Politician Apologizes
- Rating the WWE's Roster by Their Stench
- The Esteemed Critic's Multiple Sentence Reviews
- Conan Brothers' Q&A
- Theme Park Mistress
- Hillsdale Paranormal Society
- Writer's Block
- Select Farmers Only Profiles
Thursday, February 4, 2016
A Poem Dedicated to That Promising Young Talent, Triple H
We are all just pieces of stars
Billowing about the universe,
With no direction home.
Yet among us there is one,
Who may tear us from the tyranny
Of an ancient authority figure,
A villain clad in a gangster suit,
Wearing the skins of the vanquished beneath
And possessing an Irish surname.
Thank you, Based Haitch.
You somehow lead the revolution
While being part of the problem.
Everyone fears you,
For they know you will trade your sledgehammer
For a shovel
So that the fresh earth can be thrown upon their graves.
Let it be known that roses bloom
From the funeral dirt,
And from every end
Comes a different beginning.
Yet you marshal your forces
While serving the lich king,
Having taken his daughter to be your wife.
Little does he know
That his time will come.
And like the others, he will be buried
To never rise again.
There will be a new demon king,
There will be huggers and Realest Guys,
There will be ginger Canadians,
And apollonian heroes.
So I will stomach a Triple H Championship run
In the late year 2016,
If it means that the NXT revolution cometh.
Praise ye, Based Haitch
We are waiting for your new era.