In Memoriam...

Oh, dear God no... it can't be. I knew he was having problems, but I had no idea they were this serious. Oh my god. Jeff Hardy is dead.

Oh, no, wait, it's just a montage. Not dead at all, actually. In fact, he's just been sent over to Smackdown!

Perhaps I should explain.

This week, like many others, found me unable to hoof it over to the Farmer's Barn for a communal viewing of Monday Night RAW. This, coupled with smothering apathy over the creative direction of the WWE, left me with no information on the recent "draft" results when I arrived home from work at nine P.M. on Friday night. Th' VCR was taping Smackdown! and I'd left the television on so the pets could watch Tyra Banks (which may have something to do with the cats pissing on my shoes, but I digress). So it was that SD(!) was in full blare as I decanted the Riunite and slipped into my smoking jacket and licensed Bruiser Brody Commemorative Furry Boots.

I was greeted with the minor chords and plaintive vocals common to the "emo" musical genre, and a montage of Great Jeff Hardy Moments. Good Ol' J.R. intoning that this was "The daredevil... the risk-taker... the extremist... Jeff Hardy." What was going on?

The wheels started spinning. In my mind. Mentally, I mean. I assembled the evidence. Grainy shots of a teenage Jeff Hardy training? Emo ballad? Somber J.R. pronouncements? Jeff on echo-laden voice-over mumbling, "You want to know who I am?" Holy fucking shit, I bet he's dead.

Even as the Lostprophets (who have soundtracked something like five similar WWE montages in the past decade, if memory serves) swelled into the marginally more rocking part, I remained convinced of Hardy's demise. Sure, the music was getting a bit frisky for a memorial piece, but Jeff was doing his "spread my arms like a bird" poses and camera was zooming in on signs saying "Fly, Jeff, Fly" so I thought they were going for a triumphant he's-in-heaven-now thing. It wasn't until the dreadful double-time swell (at a minute and a half on the youtube clip above) that I began to wonder if something were wrong. Or, y'know. Not wrong.

And there it was. One last echo-y "I am Jeff Hardy (I am I am Jeff Jeff Hardy Ardy)" and a banner announcing that dude was coming to Smackdown! I felt foolish, but still, who could blame me? Would it really surprise any of you if Jeff Hardy finally took one monster spot (or bong rip) too many and took his jizz rag off to heaven, where his poor dog is waiting for him at the great double-wide in the sky?

Good night and good luck, Jeff Hardy. The Facebuster Nation urges you to stay safe.