That's Not A Burlap Bag...

It's a gunny sack. You know it, I know it, the whole world knows it. Kane needs to stop pretending and bail out of what is quickly becoming one of the lamest angles in recent history. Far better the WWE had brought back Paul Bearer than this ponderous bit of Rey Mysterio-centric nonsense.

Wait, what was that? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you... you, in the back? Did you have a question? Oh, great... can we get him a microphone?

Where have we been? Well, that's obvious, we've been right here in the palatial Portland Shilo Inn, banquet/conference room number 63. Fucking DUH. Oh, sorry, you meant where have we been in a where's-my-blog-content sort of way. Listen, junior, maybe you don't understand how things work here in the high-stakes world of Sports Entertainment Blogging, but we work hard... and we fucking PLAY hard. So you want to know why we haven't posted anything during Conference Week? Alright, Sally.

Malibu Sands and the Pencil Neck Geek have been in the pool. Oh, you're all, "The Portland Shilo Inn Doesn't HAVE a pool, what are you talking about?" Well, I'm all, "Shut up. I actually don't know whether or not the Portland Shilo Inn has a pool, but if you have four adjoining suites (I don't know if it has those either) and you let Randy Orton use the toilets in all of those suites, you will quickly have some pretty serious flooding and that counts as a pool in my book, geek!" So two of our writers threw on their swim togs and their flotation noodles and hit the (man-made) surf.

Rev. Von Fury is in our communications center (two cell phones and a gunny sack with a mouse in it), fielding questions from the dozens of you who are joining our conference via the internets. Thank you all for entering the twenty-first century. He'll respond to yr queries shortly, or never. Is he drunk? Probably. Is he on The Drugs? No comment.

Where am I? I'm right here, you fucking imbeciles. I'm in a cavernous conference room, ripped to the gills on champagne... er, Riunite and soda, and I'm pontificating about... what was I talking about again? Oh, yeah, the Kane/Mysterio angle. Fucking terrible. They ought to shoot that angle in the face. They also ought to shoot Brian Kendrick for making our beloved Super Crazy job out on national television, and they ought to shoot John Cena just like they would some nag that went lame at the Kentucky Derby. So there. Yr goddamn right, I'm mean when I'm drunk, what did you little bastards expect?

Ahem. That concludes today's press conference. I'm off to play in the "pool". Oh, and if we actually cared about this kind of thing, the CM Punk/Chris Jericho match from last week would be a strong contender for Match Of The Year. But, y'know... we don't.

Where the hell is my Camo Black Ice?