“Our main export is crippling depression.” -Hastily Made Cleveland Tourism Video: 2nd Attempt
Before we are born, I’ve always imagined a situation akin to waiting outside the gates of Heaven after we die. There are thousands of prospective people waiting to be judged into this crazy world. I can see my stint in line as clear as day.
I am waiting. I am bright-eyed, innocent and hungry for a pleasurable life. As I approach this massive podium, I see God for the first time. His presence is powerful and awe inspiring. I can’t help but stare with my mouth open, anticipating Him to grant me entrance as an infant into Earth.
In the midst of staring at Him, I fail to notice some sort of obstruction in front of me. As I continue to walk, my path meets this hazard and I proceed to fall. As I lay there, my soul, desperate to be called upon to live on this planet, looks up and sees God himself.
He stares at me for a few seconds. I can actually see pity in his eyes. Then, his lips begin to quiver. Wow, my youthful spirit has inspired the almighty to tear up. I’m going to make God cry!
Then, he can’t hold it in anymore. God looks at me and busts out laughing. With these laughs, thunderstorms ravaged the entire world as if its end was imminent. After slapping his podium with his monstrosity of a hand and wiping the rivers away from his eyes, he points down at my pathetic body and speaks.
“What a miserable bitch! Send him to
I sit up in my bed in a cold sweat. I am shaking, breathing heavily and have a massive headache. Oh, what a nightmare, right?
That nightmare is my life.
(My favorite football team is the Minnesota Vikings. Fuck me, right?)
It hurts so badly. There is nothing worse than having so much of your life invested in something and the only thing I get in return is the feeling of Edward Norton’s foot jamming into the back of my head as my teeth are wrapped around a curb. That’s literally what being an
Then, out of the ashes, a phoenix rose up and flew. He had moxie. He had swagger. He had the goods to bring
That guy was actually a giant pussy who bailed and became the Karl Malone/Patrick Ewing/Charles Barkley of this generation. He also added one more “The” to our already wounded hearts. I will never, ever type his name on this website.
When we as a collective unit looked back at the ashes, everyone in
That person was The Miz.
We largely ignored him as he struggled through horrendous Diva Search segments, squashed by the Boogeyman on pay-per-view and sported a questionable haircut for any grown man. We still didn’t pay attention when he joined up with John Morrison and became a multi-time WWE Tag Champion.
As The Miz crawled from the ashes, still hurting from the lack of support behind the scenes in WWE and trying to rebound after getting himself over in his initial feud with John Cena, he surprised us all. Hurt, wounded and ready for the end just like any other
Cut to November 22, 2010. The Miz, that haggard looking entity we saw gasping for air just a couple of years ago, crushed Randy Orton’s skull and became the NEW WWE Champion.
Ladies and gentlemen,
(I don’t care if it’s predetermined. I wouldn't care if hopscotch was considered a sport and Al Snow (from nondescript
The Miz bringing a championship to
(Cincinatti doesn’t count in this whole discussion. When I say
There is no doubt in my mind that The Miz has more WWE Championships in his future, no matter how many times he cuts a promo on Jared from Subway. Hopefully, his reigns coincide with the reigns of every other deserving
That way, that line on my way into Heaven won’t nearly be as awkward.