Greetings, Armpit readers. It is I, “The Genius” himself, “Leaping” Lanny Poffo. I am the distinguished guest columnist who has been asked to entertain you Lilliputians with my abundant intellect and dialect.
Prepare to be dazzled and bamboozled by my extraordinary vocabulary and vast array of prolific locutions. It is not my purposeful intention to speak above you, but do keep in mind that my intellectual capacity far exceeds that of yours, with all due respect.
With that established, I will perform to the best of my exceptional verbal abilities to bring myself to your level, as burdensome as that may be. I shall endeavor to opt for simplistic words and expressions that the common plebeians such as yourselves can fully comprehend.
For this first installment of “Leapin’ Lanny’s ‘Pit Poems,” please allow me to opine on the recent partition between the WWE Raw and SmackDown brands. I wish to acknowledge this grandiose opportunity The Armpit has afforded yours truly, and I pledge to extend the absolute optimum of my efforts to overreach all expectations.
Here we go once again, Vince does the splits
Last time he tried that, it was the drizzling shits
Raw on one side, SmackDown on the other
Oh how I miss my Savage big brother
He always told me how the first split was a mistake
As if people needed another reason to think wrestling was fake
This time, let’s hope the results aren’t the same
Shouldn’t be too hard, as the original couldn’t have been more lame
So far, so good, with Bryan and Foley
Though David Otunga certainly ain’t no Gordon Solie
Byron Saxton has to go, he’s just a talking head
If I wanted to hear a zombie, I’d watch Walking Dead
Michael Cole is no better; is there no other choice??
Damn you for forcing me to hear his annoying voice
And JBL, that bully, his references are so ancient
Listening to these drones requires a great deal of patience
At least there’s Corey Graves, with his tattooed neck
TNA may want him, but they only write bounced checks
New logo, new cameras, a fresh look and feel
Too bad writers can’t decide who’s a babyface and heel
Finn Balor’s a good choice, just don’t let him speak
His workrate is great, but his promos are weak
And look at Nia Jax, so pretty and plump
She’s sure to have black men ogling her rump
Gable and Jordan, what a superb draft pick
Much better than the Ascension; they can’t work a lick
Shane is good too, but ugh, please no Stephanie
She makes me so thankful I had a vasectomy
For her voice is so shrill, like nails on a chalkboard
Though I sure wouldn’t mind bouncing her breasts on my headboard
Sasha Banks is hot too, she could headline WrestleMania
Unlike Eva Marie, who belongs on Botch-A-Mania
But I’d still love to bed her, and feel all her shapes
And find out once and for all if the curtains match the drapes
I love me a redhead, they’re so sexy and hot
But not Heath Slater; turns my stomach into knots
But two PPVs a month, that’s way, way too much
Unless you send me Natalya, whose carpet I want to munch
And two sets of titles, that’s so overkill
With so many damn belts, their value is nil
Does Vince ever learn from his mistakes of the past?
Or is he too busy staring at Becky Lynch’s sweet ass?
Speaking of Divas, Raw badly needs Bayley
She’s so cute and likeable; I want her to lay me
And speaking of NXT, props to their Promo Class!
Their star students must’ve been Enzo and Big Cass
They entertain me every week with their undeniable wit
Surely their lines aren’t written by some writing staff twit
Last but not least, I anticipate the cruiserweights
At least the ones who don’t look like pannywaists
Action, dives, high spots galore
Doesn’t anybody sell anymore?
At least there’s hope for guys way too small
We all can’t have genes like Kevin Nash and Scott Hall
But I’m encouraged thus far, the split has exceeded expectations
The Lesnar/Orton angle even gave me heart palpitations
The future looks bright, let’s just hope it stays that way
Please give us more AJ, Owens, Rollins, and New Day
So Vince, I say to you, I’ll give you a chance
And for God’s sake, please let me in your daughter’s pants
Disclaimer: Lanny Poffo didn’t really write this. The Armpit did. But we know it’s what Lanny would say.