"What the hell is this, Edge?" John asked, holding up last week's anonymous gossip column in front of the face of the Rated R Superstar.

"It's an anonymous gossip column?" Edge guessed as a joke. Yes, he knew what it was. He knew that John knew. He just liked messing with the guy.

"Obviously. Why did you write it?" John asked.

"Whoa, don't get your thong pulled farther up your ass than it already is," Edge said, trying to calm John down. "I didn't write that. I volunteered to do the comics for a reason. Besides, even if I did write that…No, I don't want to be associated with that garbage writing. If I wrote something like that making fun of people, it would be much better. Haven't you read my autobiography, Adam Copeland on Edge?"

"First of all, no, I haven't read that."

"What kind of rock have you been living under?"

"I'm going to ignore that comment. Second of all, okay, I believe you. And third of all, how did you sneak that comic in? That wasn't the one you handed into me for last week's deadline," John asked, almost scolding Edge for being…well, Edge.

"Psh, I'm just good like that. It was easy."

"How was it easy?"

"Well, it's easy being sleazy. Just because you suck doesn't mean we all do," Edge shrugged before handing John the new comic for the issue that was coming out tomorrow. It was a parody of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

"This doesn't seem so bad," John said to himself as he looked at the comic.

John had Zack and Curt up at the break of dawn to place stacks of newspapers out everywhere in the backstage area of the arena. John promised himself that this issue would be more professional than last week's.

But when was John ever right about anything?

The Palace of Wisdom
By: The Shaman of Sexy, John Morrison

I was too busy eating sushi with Mr. Fuji at the Palace of Wisdom last week to be bothered with writing this. So, here it is Morrison Followers, my advice column. I'll pick one question a week and answer it, using my guru greatness.

Dear the Great Shaman of Sexy,

I smell bad and can't spell very well. How can I still get a date for this weekend?

SmackDown Spoiler

Well, Festus (yes, I know this is you), you can do a number of things. One, you can follow the great power of my abs. I don't suggest that. I don't think you can handle the power of these bad boys. Two, you can lose the lazy eye. Three, you can get a bell and have your girl ring it in the bedroom.

Ladies, you don't need a bell to get John Morrison going. I am a deity all in my own.

That, Festus, is all the time I have for you this week.

Remember, kids, in life, there are winners (like me), and there are losers (like you, Festus). Join me next week as I once again give you insight into…

The Palace of Wisdom

Crank This, Military Man
By: Santino Marella

Yes, I have decided to talk about the music that is on the boom boxes in the WWE. And this is the only thing I have to say about it.

It is more terrible than JR and King talking about the puppies and Bob Holly's soft core. If I hear "YANK THAT" one more time, I am going to smack someone with an Italian sausage. My Maria never listened to this garbage that you like to call the musics when we were together.

Maybe I need to bring in a nice Italian symphony that doesn't sound like the doggies running to the mail delivery guy.

Hair
By: Jeff Hardy

Long hair still in.

Jeff Hardy, still out.

"I WARNED HIM LAST WEEK!" John screamed as he viewed Edge's newest comic. The one that ended up in print was not in fact the one that Edge had handed him.

This time it was John drawn in an electric chair with Edge flipping the switch.

The Chronic Chronicles
By: CM Punk

I still don't do drugs. Neither should you. Do you hear that, Randy Orton? You need drugs just about as much as Kelly Kelly needs to take her clothes off.

Orton wasn't fined the one thousand dollars as expected.

In related news, more Superstars have been getting strange substances passed around to them. Being straight-edge, I have no idea what these substances are.

Until next week, remember that punks don't smoke the rock.

Mr. Kennedy, I Hate You
By: The Legend Killer, Soon to be "The Kennedy Killer"

Kennedy, I saw you running around last week with no pants on. Did you not read my exposé on why pants are an essential part of the wardrobe unless you are me? Last time I checked, you were not me, but a loser from Wisconsin.

What happened to your sweatpants that went along with that snazzy vest of yours? Did you leave them at your boyfriend's house?

The Personals

MSM. 30. Bwn hair. Blu eyes. 6'1" Muscular build.3xWWEC. L4 20-45. 5'7"-6'1".

The Real Sack
By: Anonymous

THIS JUST IN! JOHN CENA WEARS THONGS AND IS NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT! He particularly likes to leave them at Batista's house where they dance in them together. A trusted inside source has pictures.

Rumor has it that John Morrison has ab implants. Rumor has it that the said rumor is true.

I was dining at a fine eating establishment when I saw Beth Phoenix enter the men's restroom. I guess she really does have a penis, as suspected.

Still haven't figured it out yet, Cena? Sucks to be you.