Well Cagesiders it’s that time again. It’s time to toss out the old 2017 calendar and pin up 2018. With a new year comes new possibilities, new starts, new desires and new resolutions.
On the one hand, the whole notion of a new years resolution is silly. January 1st is no different than December 31st. It’s still a cold day in the early part of winter. If we had no calendars or any way to know what day it was, new years day wouldn’t be any different than any other day. The idea of it being “next year” or “a new year” is purely arbitrary. Every day is a year after last year’s day. You can toss a dart at a calendar and designate that the start of your own personal new year.
I mean in China “new years” doesn’t come for another month or so. Jews and Muslims have theirs in September. Nevertheless, here we are, at the start of what we in the west call 2018, and with it comes all the people looking to start the new year with promises to themselves.
Over in WWE land, you can be sure the
employees independently-contracted Superstars are celebrating the only way they know how: On the road, tired and achy. I wonder what kinds of things they’re “resolving” to themselves around the WWE…
Here we go...
You’ve had a great year in 2017. You helped expand the borders of WWE’s BRAND and, more importantly, established the BRAND of the WWE as the premiere entertainment BRAND in all of media.
I suppose I should congratulate myself but I think instead I’ll write a little resolution. Last year you did so much for so many other people. This year, do a little something for yourself. I think the WWE universe is starting to forget your face! So my resolution is this: Get more involved in the on screen happenings of Raw. Let the men know who’s the boss. Let the women know who literally created them from nothing and molded them into existence. Now go out there and have a great 2018!
You did it. You made 2017 the most delightful of any since you began your employment with WWE. Certainly it took a few months…almost all of them…but 2017 was the year where you finally found a permanent place on the main-roster. It’s a shame poor, sad, tiny Simon Gotch had to take his flux capacitor-enabled motorcar back to 1915, where his personal brand of a-holery could be better appreciated, but such is life.
As wondrous as 2017 was, I enter 2018 with a bit of trepidation. As you know, I’ve been teaming with Rusev and though the partnership has yielded great fruit, it nevertheless carries with it certain…worries. My new year’s resolution is to move beyond this partnership to one that is more befitting my own natural…circumstances.
To put it simply: I resolve either to grow a mohawk and become the Gillberg of Sheamus or shave my head and be the Gillberg of Cesaro. Either way I must get out of this Rusev situation. He “accidentally” called me Lana last night and I’m worried what may come next.
I’m going to grab that brass ring. No, I’m not just going to grab it: I’m going to do a 450 splash off the top rope, spring off the floor like a college cheer team captain, do a corkscrew twist and grab the ring off Vince McMahon’s finger dangling from the rafters like in a ladder match. He’ll have to notice me then!
I'm good enough, I’m smart enough and gosh darn it people like me.
Be more like Kevin Owens.
Ich hasse diese ganze stinkende Firma.
Die Leute sind laut und dumm. Das Essen ist langweilig. Niemand schätzt meinen Humor. Ich habe gestern die lustigste Geschichte erzählt und alles, was Vince gesagt hat, war "Hast du deine Nase schon repariert?" Mit meiner Nase ist nichts verkehrt, du hast Skeletor verdorben, es waren meine Zähne. Deshalb trage ich das Mundstück. Ich glaube nicht, dass er meinen Namen kennt. Letzte Woche hat er mich Zander genannt.
Ich vermisse meine Katze.
Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed by Thy name,
Thank you Lord for a blessed 2017. Winning the WWE Title last year was a true answer to prayer. I knew if I worked hard, kept my nose down and trusted your will, You’d see me through my trials.
I pray that 2018 allows me more opportunities to shine the light of the Gospel, entertain your children all over the world, and just be a great example to all. Guide, guard and direct my steps. Forgive me when I stumble, and bring me home to Heaven someday.
In Jesus name,
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? As the iced-winds of February chill my nipples, I feel inner warmth at the thoughts of your embrace. Your radiant eyes glisten in my memory and brighten even the darkest of my days. Truly there is no darkness as long as you are in my heart. There is no loneliness as long as you are on my mind. As the waters of the stream—
Ah shoot. Alright…uh…
My name is Shelton Benjamin. Once upon a time I was considered one of the best in-ring workers in the world. I’ve put on classic matches with the likes of Kurt Angle, Shawn Michaels, Triple H and more. I was a major player during the post-Attitude Era of WWE, when the company was rebuilding and pushing new and different talent. After a long time away, I’ve returned to WWE and am currently working with one of the brightest young talents on Smackdown. Things are going pretty well. 2017 was pretty good to me. I’ve made a name for myself with the fans and with my peers all over again.
But not to everyone.
In 2018 I resolve to make a name for myself to Vince McMahon. He’s the guy that calls the shots. He’s the “audience of one.” If I’m ever going to be more than the midcard/tag team guy, it’s going to be because Vince McMahon believes in me. I have to make a name for myself with him.
…I should probably start by getting one of those “Hi my name is _______” stickers so he’ll stop calling me K-Kwick every time I walk by him.
Be more like myself.
What year is it now? It’s already 2018? Alright then, I’ll make a resolution I suppose.
I think this year I will resolve to tell better stories on Raw and Smackdown. That’s a good and simple resolution I suppose. I’ve been doing this long enough I think I know how to tell a good story. It’s all about taking the viewer on a journey, like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe. So I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt.
Which was the style at the time.
Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel. And in those days nickel’s had pictures of bumblebees on em. “Give me five bees for a quarter” you’d say. Now…where was I? Oh yes, the important thing was that I had an onion on my belt.
Which was the style at the time.
They didn’t have white onions (because of the war). The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones. Anyway, I think we’ll put the title on John Cena again and maybe give Roman Reigns a run in the main-event. As a change of pace.
What was I writing this for again? Taxes?