It's still real to (us) damnit

Thanks for our very best buddy Matt for sending us this.

For those of you who don't know, the Midnight Express are one of the best tag teams in professional wrestling history. And when LPS (Li'l Pudgeball Snap for you new readers, of whom there are fives by the day, we're sure) was a li'l pudgeball, he studied manager Jim Cornette's every move, and he rooted his fat li'l heart out for the Express at every turn.

See, LPS decided way back in 1985 that he would be somebody. And that somebody would be the diabolical "Luscious" Old Man S. He would help his wrestlers spiritually and professionally, especially if it meant using a steel chair.

Old dreams do indeed diehard, kids. Just yesterday, as OMS wondered around the hallowed halls of his job, he saw a steel chair sitting innocently by its lonesome in a cubicle. Oh how OMS wanted to grab that sumb*tch and plaster the next person he saw with it.

With that, oh loyal readers, of whom there are fives by the day, we're sure, we give you the Friday funday hack bit we call Heroez and Not So Much with the Heroez, our weekly look back on the week that was.

Heroez
Dylan. Always Dylan.

This kid better turn out to be God.

This young fella, for telling the truth.

Santa Claus, for violently telling it like it is.

Not so much...
Kid toucher.

Frat boy. And you, the president, should know better.

We're *this* close but not even remotely. "See. We gotta plan. We're gonna... heh... terror. It's about terror, see. Terror. And then, heh, we're gonna win because terror. It's all about the terror baby. I been had skills, cristal spills hide bills in Brazil, about a mil to ice grill. Make it hard to figure me, liquor be, kickin' me in my a$$hole, uhhh, undercover, Donni Brascoe lent my east coast girl, the bentley to twirl. My West Coast shorty push the chrome 740 rockin redman and naughty. All in my kitty-kat half a brick of yea, in the bra, where her t*tties at. And I’m livin that, whole life, we push weight. F*ck the state pen, f*ck hoes at penn state. Listen close it’s Francis, the praying mantis attack with the mac, my left hand spit, right hand grip on the whip. For the smooth getaway, playa haters get away or my lead will spray. Squeeze off 'til I’m empty, don’t tempt me. Only to hell I send thee. All about the terror. What."

Good for him, otherwise known as strike two (well, 5,689 -- but who's counting?), otherwise known as we didn't vote for him. Otherwise known as he is the devil, mad lyrical skillz or not.

NEIN! NEIN! DU HAST NULL DER PETTEN JA? NEIN!