Well, folks, looks like Christmas came early! I've been laughing at the enws of Twinkletoes comin' down with diverticulitis, the same disease that nearly killed Brock Lesnar (an actual real professional wrestler and not a cosplayin' ballerina) and what our classy friend Kenny decided to name the F5 in his failure of a video game. What goes around comes around, Harpo! Couldn't have happened to a more swell guy!

I've popped open the ol' Dom Perignon that I save for special occasions and I swear I can taste the tears of triggered AEW freakazoids in there... MMM MM! DEEEE-LISH!

I've had a word with the big guy upstairs, might have heard of Him *wink* and put in a l'il ol' request for l'il ol me that this diverticulitis gets a l'il ol WORSE. If Olivier kicks the bucket by the end of the year... well... heh... that's gotta be the best damn Christmas present I ever recieved.

Harpo killed the business and now HE'S the one dying? Oh! The sweet, delicious irony! Looks like karma finally came for you, Kenny! Don't worry, I'm sure RIHOOOOO and your butt buddy I-DOUCHE-Y can hold your prissy l'il ballerina hands as your pathetic life comes to an unceremonious end. See ya, Harpo! Don't let the door hit ya on the way out!

Good news though! Your ol' pal Jim Cornette's gonna pay a visit to your grave and pour one out for ya... or rather LEAK one out for ya!

Hope it hurts, Twinkletoes! Thank you, fuck you, BYE!