I can almost picture it.  “Since Ric Flair’s ‘woo’ is the single-most identifiable cry in wrestling history, I’ll go ‘woo woo woo,’ and that will make me three times as famous as the Nature Boy!

“Now let’s see, what can I add to it?  Hey, how about ‘You know it,’ even though I never actually explain what ‘it’ is?  Wait, then I can add fist-pumping, a Jersey thing, even though I’m from Long Island.  This being a genius am fun.”

To which I reply, “Boo boo boo.  You blow it."

Can you believe Zack Ryder’s thievery of Dolph Ziggler’s U.S. title--with one hand on Dolph’s trunks, one hand yanking Dolph’s hair and one hand holding the ropes, I might add--was met with cheers by the ringside reprobates?  What’s the matter, was Jojo The Dancing Turkey’s fan club no longer accepting new members?

Putting aside Zack has all the charisma of a loaf of white bread left on the street during a rainstorm and run over by a passing fire truck, here’s the reason this goof should never be allowed to wear championship gold:  He’s too damn ugly!

Did you know the cowards from Ghost Hunters hold up a Zack Ryder poster to scare spooks out of haunted houses?  Or that, when he was brought to be baptized, the priest took one look at baby Z and demanded to perform an exorcism on his mother’s womb?

I’ll give him this:  Whenever I have the stomach to look Ryder directly in the face, he does remind me of a famous stellar athlete--Secretariat.

If you go to Classmates.com, you can find Ryder’s high school yearbook, wherein there’s proof Zack really does have a varsity sports background.  As a junior, ZR was on the polo team.  At least until he got bounced from the squad because his saddle kept falling off.

At the same site, you also learn that the most popular phrase in Long Island is “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend.”  But to Ryder’s credit, he did provide his hometown with one valuable asset:  Now they have someone to be more ashamed of than Billy Joel.

The potted pianist’s initials remind me:  I recently saw Miss Tessmacher’s TNA "audition" video.  Now I know why she is so obviously inexperienced--and inept--on in-ring promos.  I’m figuring Brooke doesn’t have much practice orating, because she knows it’s impolite to speak with your mouth full.  

(Ironic, since, all things considered, you’d think she’d have a cocky attitude--and the last name Dixon.)

Then again, Tessmacher was able to convey the message “Doc, I’d like as much implant juice in my butt as you put in my boobs."

I happen to be a Coolie Connoisseur, so believe me when I tell you Brooke’s behind is about as natural as braces on an aardvark.  That fanny is so plastic, when she breaks wind, it sounds like someone enthusiastically clapping while wearing boxing gloves.

In other words, her crack is not all it’s cracked up to be.  Why, I bet, if she sat on a pin, the propulsion of the silicone sack exploding would rocket Hydraulic Heiney into the next room--and I personally volunteer to prick Tess’s tush to make my point.  Sure, I may feel some joint stiffness in the process, but that’s the kind of sacrifice I make as a Hall Of Fame journalist.

What’s that?  I should lay off Tess, and owe her an apology?  Well, since the “I’m going to insincerely ‘apologize’ by further ripping on you” routine is apparently considered the ultimate in sports entertainment--judging by the 42 times the angle has been run on TV over the past 14 months--I not only extend a throbbing olive branch in Brooke’s direction, but beg for mercy with regard to the following topics as well.  

*I’m sorry for failing to use the term “superstar” to describe some greenhorn with no following, experience before the cameras or prior exposure beyond the local level.  And since someone debuting is already a “superstar,” it’s only fitting that those with a few years on TV and notoriety should henceforth be referred to as “ultracomets” and “megasupernovas4 (although I can think of a few who more closely resemble black holes.)

*I’ve been known to say how embarrassing it is when the WWE discovers something that was the Hot New Thing years before, and exposes how behind-the-curve they are by hard-selling it on TV and WWE.com.  How dare me!

Okay, so they repeatedly used “get jiggy with it” on the December 12, 2011 Raw.  It’s only been a decade or two since that hardcore hip-hopper Will Smith popularized the not-new phrase in the mainstream by using it as a song title.  That doesn’t make them any less hip than, say, a man wearing a ponytail this century.

*I’d like to apologize for suggesting idiotic booking decisions ever occur.  Former champ, monster and top-tier challenger Samoa Joe losing match after match (while dynamic Crimson barely falters) is pure genius.  That way, if he ever does get a noteworthy victory, it will have so much more wow factor.  I recommend Joe lose by tap-out in each match for a few months.  This stroke of booking brilliance will then allow them to market all kinds of merchandise emblazoned with “Samoan Submitting Machine."

*I hang my head in shame for going through all the trouble of looking in the dictionary before name-branding a person or group.  Silly me--and the Random House Webster’s Dictionary--said book’s sole definition of “diva” being “a prima donna,” then defined as “a vain temperamental person."

Thankfully, wrestling has taught me the error of my ways.  Therefore, please be advised, when newspapers refer to Madonna, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey and the like as “divas,” they are not calling the women demanding high-maintenance bitches, but rather complimenting them for being “smart, strong and sexy”!

*CM Punk obediently opened a Twitter account, and I, for some crazy reason, thought that was just another example of Mr. Anti-Establishment once again being a corporate lackey--until the megasupernova explained it was a satire.  Ah, that makes perfect sense.  In hindsight, my face is a crimson mask of blushitude.  

So, let me be sure I’ve got this straight, CM.  If an editor orders me to bury, for example, a Chicago-based, thin-skinned hypocrite who is nothing but a constantly alibi-ing sell-out  (no names, please), and I, like a good lapdog, follow those orders to the letter even though they thoroughly contradict my own established opinion, that’s fine, because suddenly I’m a satirist, not some BSing fraud who never stops rationalizing.

Wow, Punk, you really are “making the WWE fun again”!!!