A/N: Maybe I'm still delirious from the ten hours of sleep I got after being awake for about…50 hours, but I decided to update this anyways. I must be on something. I probably lost a lot of readers, too, but maybe I'll gain some new ones. Who knows.

"I can edit newspaper articles just fine," John whined to Candice Michelle.

"Yes, you sure can, John," Candice cooed, rubbing John's back.

"Candice, don't try making me feel better. If I can edit as well as you say I can, then how come this got in here?" John asked, smacking the open newspaper on the table.

Candice peered over John's shoulder and gazed at the colorful comic that was printed on the page. The illustrated Edge had tied John to an oversized model of the WWE Championship belt with a Rated-R Superstar logo and was maniacally spinning him around on it.

The Shit List: Because I'm that Damn Good
By: Triple Fucking H

You know what, Batista? You are on this week's shit list. Why? Because you came onto my show and ruined it. And even though I have a new show to dominate, you're sucking on the live show. I hope you fall off the apron again. I must say, I thought that was pretty funny. Now, just put down your car magazines and turn on a wrestling DVD. It will do you some good.

The Chronic Chronicles
By: CM Punk

There haven't been any real drug reports this week. Maybe all these people got released for steroids. Maybe not. We all know that Shannon Moore wasn't released because of that. How do I know? Well, because he's tiny. Oh, and he could actually wrestle, and we all know that's something that the WWE is straying away from.

In related Superstars-that-can't-wrestle news, newcomer Brie Bella has been spotted injecting collagen into her clown lips, making her look even more like a transvestite than she already does. No wonder she fits in so well on SmackDown. With Michelle McCool's Adam's apple and Maryse's man voice, she has other transvestite Divas to hang out with.

I suppose that she was still injecting something, so I guess that could be a drug related issue.

Ladies, all I have to say is that I'm glad that I'm on RAW now. You can't try to kick my ass, not that you could anyways.

Well, I hope that the drug reports stay this clean from now on, no pun intended. Straight-edge is the way to be!

Remember, kids, punks don't smoke the rock.

I'm Not a Fucking Salon Worker
By: That Hardy Guy

I think Khali has been reading this. All he needs is some more color, and his hair is perfect.

Don't cry, Cena. It's two lines. That's my maximum.

That Crime Scene, Crime Scene, Yeah, Yeah
By: JTGizzle

Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo! What's really hood?

Well, I don't want to turn in myself and my good friend, Shad Gaspard, but there's only one crime report this week, and we committed it.

See, we stole, I mean borrowed, the World Tag Team Championship belts from them silly white boys, Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase. Why? Because Big Dick Johnson called us over from SmackDown. He desired it. We acquired it. Besides, I watched the footage from RAW this week. Those belts looked better on us, anyways.

No, we borrowed it. Borrowed.

Do I Look Like Christian Siriano to You?
By: Randy Orton

I can't believe this. I get in a motorcycle accident, yet I'm still required to write this. How about you watch Project Runway and hire that fierce guy that worked with the Divas. That will make my job a lot easier, you know.

And I don't watch Project Runway. My wife does. I swear. Although, I must say, a lot of those clothes are rather chic, if I do say so myself. If they used male models, I'd so be in.

The Palace of Wisdom
By: The Shaman of Sexy. The Tuesday Night Delight. John Morrison.

Dear Mighty Shaman,

I dream about your abs. So does my girlfriend. How do I get rock hard abs like you? She's been calling out your name in her sleep, and it's scaring me.

Yes, Evan Bourne, I am sleeping with your girlfriend. Stop doing Shooting Star Presses and work out, son. I can send Miz to be your personal trainer, if you'd like.

Wait, I forgot. Miz doesn't serve losers like you. Maybe you're better off with Festus. Just make sure that you bring a ring bell with you.

Remember that in life, there are winners, and there are losers.

And you, Evan Bourne, are a loser.

The Real Sack
By: For the millionth time, I'm not telling you. That's why I'm Anonymous

It's no secret that I enjoy the art of trash talking. Yes, it's an art form. It's the most glorious thing I can think of. Nothing pleasures me more than a good trash talking session.

What trash talking do you get to hear this week? You know what, you don't deserve to hear me trash talk this week. All I do is work for you people, and I've become the most read and anticipated weekly column of this newspaper. But does your editor appreciate me? No, he does not. This newspaper wouldn't be half as successful as it is now if it wasn't for me. I don't like to toot my own horn or anything, but…Wait. I do like to toot my own horn. The sound makes me happy.

Rest easy tonight, Cena. I'm too lazy to glorify your polluted cesspool of a newspaper project this time. But maybe you should watch your back. I'm using my psychic powers, and I'm predicting something terrible in your future.