Jeff Hardy: Not Sick but Not Well

Here at Arabian Facebuster, we are dedicated to investigating the follies and documenting the tomfoolery of professional wrestling. Why in the past month alone we have provided you with the miraculous and whimsical details of Hornswaggle's cruiserweight title triumph, contemplated The Great Khali's standing in the pantheon of Smackdown! champions, penned a missive on the majesty of Big Daddy V, authenticated that Lillian Garcia did not in fact take an extended sabbatical from her national anthem crooning and sports entertainment announcing duties in order to birth the love child of Hacksaw Jim Duggan, and paid tribute to the encrusted veneer of Jeff Hardy's mislaid jizz-rag.

You're welcome.

Sadly, however, I must break the news to the Arabian Facebuster community that Jeff Hardy (pictured above arousing the gentiles of an incredibly relaxed looking Randy Orton in a most unconventional manner), like his jumbo sized rag o' jizz, has seemingly vanished from the sports entertainment landscape. A little over a week ago, Dave Meltzer reported that Hardy had been sent home from the marathon of lackadaisicalness otherwise known as last Monday night's live broadcast of RAW on USA for an unspecified reason. And this past Monday, there was no sign of Jeff Hardy or any of his most coveted possessions, namely his extra absorbent spooge towel, Ab Roller, purple Manic Panic hair dye, and poetry journal, leading to much speculation that Jeff may have relapsed in his well documented battle with painkiller and drug addiction, thereby necessitating pulling him off the road and writing him out of the Intercontinental title picture for an indeterminate duration.

Thankfully, these conjectures couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, Arabian Facebuster has (once again) out-scooped the mainstream wrestling media and has obtained the real story. Arabian Facebuster is proud to report that Hardy, in a selfless act of solidarity, has gone on strike in protest of the sudden and wrongful termination of his goo hanky by World Wrestling Entertainment. We have obtained this image of Hardy in his one-man picket line, performing a riveting cover of Pete Seeger's "We Shall Overcome" in front of WWE's corporate headquarters, his jizz-rag neatly folded and carefully positioned in his right rear pants pocket.

Give 'em hell, Jeff!

Postscript: A big shout out those musical wunderkinds in Harvey Danger for inspiring the title of this post. I could not face, let alone make it through, the day's adversities without at least one listen to their 1998 landmark post-grunge opus, "Flagpole Sitta."