pcwpolwrestling

[pcwpolwrestling]

3/8-PCW Extreme Political TV-'Choose Your Fighter'/PCW's 20th Anniversary Show

PCW is brought to you by:

USAID, FEMA Clear-Out Sale The screen fades to black, a moment of silence hanging in the air before it’s shattered by the booming enthusiasm of Excitable Announcer Guy.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Attention, special interest groups! Elon Musk and DOGE are on the horizon. Are you in dire need of fiscal relief? Got a pet project gasping for federal funds? Well, buckle up, because have we got a deal for you!”

The scene cuts with jarring rapidity, bureaucrats in grey suits appear, their faces splitting into wide, almost maniacal grins as they hurl wads of cash from high windows.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Right here at the USAID and FEMA Clear-Out Sale, we’re slicing through red tape like a hot knife through butter

Excitable Announcer Guy roars over the sound of laughter and paper rustling in the wind.

Excitable Announcer Guy: We are doling out dollars like it’s Monopoly money!

A warehouse bursts onto the screen, bloated with currency, where workers in frantic disarray shove heaps of money into cannons.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Absolute mayhem, and YOU’RE the winner. Remember that bridge to nowhere? Funded!

The screen flickers to life with images of an enormous, isolated bridge spanning across a vast emptiness.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Cha-ching!

A close-up reveals a scientist in a lab coat, peering through a microscope at a slide housing a single endangered desert snail. A cash register sound effect punctuates the absurdity.

Excitable Announcer Guy: And let’s not forget about that solar-powered flashlight initiative- a bright idea, for an even brighter budget!

A woman in a crisp business suit, her smile as wide as the checks she signs, tosses oversized checks down a slide comically large enough to fit her bravado, straight into a frenzy of outstretched hands below.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Natural disaster relief? Pfft, think bigger!

The scene shifts to a cartoonishly overstuffed envelope labeled ’59 million’ being stuffed with cash.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Sending fifty-nine million dollars to New York for illegal immigrants? We call them ‘economic fun-velopes’—filled with freebies for everyone!

In stark contrast, the screen cuts to the somber faces of the folks in Chimney Rock, North Carolina… still recovering from Hurricane Helene.

The people stare directly into the camera, their expressions a mixture of disappointment and stoic resilience.

Their silence is deafening—crickets chirp in the background.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Oh well. The seven hundred-fifty dollars FEMA gave the Hurricane Helene victims should help cushion the blow-

But his sentence is cut short by a sudden, violent shake. The screen vibrates as if in the throes of an earthquake.

His voice hits a new level of hysteria as the door bursts open.

Excitable Announcer Guy: OH NO!

Elon Musk leads a horde of young people, smartphones in hand, symbols of a new chaotic force, stream into the room like a flash flood.

Excitable Announcer Guy: IT’S DOGE! RUN!

All hell breaks loose. Papers fly, officials scatter, and amidst the commotion, a woman walks in.

Excitable Announcer Guy: HOLY *BLEEP*… IT’S KRISTI NOEM!   

Homeland Security Director Kristi Noem strides in, holding aloft a check for fifty-nine million dollars- the very same destined for New York. Her gaze is steely, her intent clear.

Then a blonde walks in…no-nonsense and ready to fire off lawsuits.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Oh *BLEEP*! PAM BONDI?

Bondi brings in the US Marshals who stream into the room and round the riotous crowd.  The chaos crescendos to a climax before suddenly cutting out—

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Recap Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon Taped Saturday March 1st Saturday March 8th, 2025

Announcer: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave 

The show started with a film clip from PCW’s first ever show in March 2005. Howard Dean, in his bid for leadership of the Progressive Alliance back in 2005, attempted to impress Bill and Hillary Clinton by boasting about his readiness to take on George W. Bush and right-wing figures. Dean declared, “I’ll cut through the American Patriots like a hot knife through butter!” He listed adversaries such as “The Texas Hammer” Tom DeLay and “The Mastermind” Karl Rove, while exclaiming, “We’ll fight them in Ohio! In Indiana! Illinois! Michigan! Pennsylvania! Wisconsin! ALL THE WAY TO ULTIMATE VICTORY!” His excitement culminated in his trademark yell, “YEEEEEE-AAAHHHH!” which drew an irritated response from Bill Clinton.  

Opening The packed, sell-out crowd chanted PCW… PCW… PCW as ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave bellowed out: “WELCOME TO PCW EXTREME POLITICAL TV!” from the center of the wrestling ring. “HELLO FROM PCW’S TITULAR HOME- HACK’S RUSTY NAIL SALOON IN WAUSEON, OHIO!” His voice rumbled, feeding off the wild energy. Suave launched right into the rundown of the card.  

PCW TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH: The MAGA-Powers (Starz N. Stripes and ‘Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism © vs. The Green World Order (‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee and GreenPete)

PCW WOMEN’S TITLE MATCH: Catherine Cline (Independent) © vs. Main Street USA’s ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith

The red, white, and blue section bellowed their approval, voices booming off the walls.

Suave then announced the first official PCW rankings thanks to the DOGE innovations:

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: 1. SNAFU (Independent) 2. Magnum PO’d (Independent) 2. Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) 4. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) 4. Neal Conn (American Patriots) PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: 1. ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA) 2. Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) 3. Laura Brobert (American Patriots) 4. Barbie Q (The Vice Squad- Promoting Politically Incorrect Personal Choices) 5. ***

PCW Tag Team Champions: The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: 1. The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) 2. Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks 3. Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO 4. Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer 5. The SEC: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid

Earlier in the Night Suave reviewed what happened earlier in the night when PCW owner Dawn McGill kicked out Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky after a confrontation with PCW CEO Donald Trump and COO J.D. Vance.

The video showed their startled faces and then followed the dejected men as they trudged toward the door with Dawn’s defiant voice echoing behind them.  

The footage captured everything: the “Ukrainian Ambassador with her head buried in her hands and Marco Rubio with other dignitaries looking on with dismay.

Suave then brought out Dawn McGill, turning into a chant that rolled across the venue like thunder, shaking the saloon to its very core:

DAWN! DAWN! DAWN! DAWN!

Dawn McGill segment Six feet tall and strikingly composed, McGill strutted onto the stage, her athletic physique drawing every eye in the room and to the video screen showing off her Henhouse Magazine photo shoot (which helped put forth the seed money for PCW’s return).

Her medium-length blonde hair was styled to perfection, tonight Dawn was dressed in a tight black leather miniskirt and matching stiletto heels, an outfit that flaunted her long legs and statuesque frame.

Dawn paused, letting the cheers wash over her, and the chant only grew louder. She took the mic with a grin, basking in the outpour of noise and affection. “Welcome to PCW’s 20th Anniversary show!” she said, her voice crisp and assured.  The noise was deafening, the room a living thing with its own pulse and heartbeat.

McGill looked out over the venue with blue eyes that missed nothing, absorbing the atmosphere before continuing. “It’s been twenty years since PCW’s first show,” she began, letting the words hang for a moment. Her gaze swept across the sea of faces, and you could feel every single person hanging on her next sentence. “And here we are… twenty years later… at the very place PCW was born.  How about that?” 

The crowd erupted and McGill let the response run its course before jumping back in, her voice never missing a beat. “We were the little company that could, and just like every ordinary American does… we may fail and fall… but we ALWAYS get back up again.  Tonight is all about YOU!” She pointed directly at the camera, at the crowd, making every person feel like they were right there in the front row. “You are the reason we were still here. You are the reason PCW lived on.”

But before she could go much further, there was a commotion. 

CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER! 

The camera captured the interruption crashing into view with absurd force.

“What the hell is this?” Suave asked.

The Progressive Alliance came out to make a splash.  Dressed in “goofy karate gear and headbands,” resembling extras from an eighties movie, Sulhee Jessica Woo, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Lauren Underwood, Katherine Clark, Judy Chu, and Jasmine Crockett burst onto the stage shouting and miming karate moves, creating a spectacle that caused laughter to ripple through the crowd.

Suave: “Oh my god.”

The crowd relished the ridiculous antics as much as McGill’s “obvious disdain.” She rolled her eyes, arms crossed, seemingly saying, “This is the best you’ve got?” The Progressive Alliance pressed on, undeterred by Dawn’s indifference.

“Apparently, tonight is the final fight!” Suave cracked as the six women confronted McGill with exaggerated gestures.

McGill held her ground with an unimpressed expression visible even from the farthest corner. The show continued around her, an unintentional parody that the fans devoured. As The Progressive Alliance bumbled through their antics, the focus returned to the center of the drama, with the camera swinging wildly to capture every twist and turn as the chaos mounted.

The scene “erupted into chaos” as various crowd factions “shouted, booed, and everything in between.” Dawn “stood defiantly” at the center, with cameras “capturing every unexpected development.”

The lights then went down and this came on…

The American Patriots in the red seats stood and cheered.  The majority of people in the American Heartland Coalition sections stood up and cheered. 

The Progressive Alliance’s blue section… not so much.

Suave sent it to ring announcer Kimber Marshall for the first big match of the night- the PCW Tag Team Title match.

**************************

MATCH #1- PCW TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

The Green World Order: ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee and GreenPete w/Peta from PETA and PeaceNick

vs.

The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism ©

**************************

The challengers walked out first: Lee, GreenPete, escorted to the ring by Peta from PETA with PeaceNick trailing behind and chanting ‘peaceful, anti-violence’ mantras as he walked to the ring. 

Lee took the microphone from Marshall to shout out to the fans: “WE’RE CHANGING EVERYTHING!”  while Peta denounced people eating meat at ringside.

Then Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” came on and brought out the PCW Tag Team Champions- The MAGA-Powers Starz N. Stripes and ‘The Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism.  The six Progressive Alliance congresswomen taunted them and held up paddles with anti-American Patriot messages on them as Starz and Chism walked past and rolled into the ring.

The bell sounded and Starz N. Stripes and GreenPete started the match.  Starz took a side headlock right away and GreenPete’s face contorted in pain.  Starz launched him to the other side of the ring and hit a back body drop on GreenPete’s return.  Slam by Starz shook the ring and every one of his hits connected with loud, resounding impacts that echoed across the saloon.  However, GreenPete ducked a right hand and weaved with relentless determination to dodge Starz’s crushing blows and countered with lightning-fast kicks and punches like sharp missiles into Starz’s midsection.

The two of them spun and locked together. GreenPete slipped loose from a clinch and caught Starz by surprise with a shot to the ribs.  He seized the moment to run to the ropes and sprang back for a high-flying maneuver. Starz caught him in mid-air and turned it into a brutal suplex that sent the green-clad opponent skidding across the ring.

Starz stalked his prey, breathing heavily as the American Patriots’ section of the crowd in the red seats cheered him on. His expression was one of focused determination, and his eyes never left GreenPete as the man struggled to his feet, looking dazed but still full of fight.

The Progressive Alliance section came to life, their chants filled the air like a battle cry. GreenPete fed off it, exploding with a sudden burst of energy. He grappled with Starz, using every ounce of strength to lift the bigger man for a suplex of his own.

The tense struggle continued with two wills pushing against each other.  Starz reversed at the last second and both men tagged out, trading in fresh partners to continue the melee.

Stone Chism barreled in with unrestrained aggression and exploded onto the scene with the speed and ferocity of a human wrecking ball. He dived into Brock Cole Lee and caught him off guard with a whirlwind of punches and elbows that drove him into a corner.

The crowd couldn’t get enough. It was a mad carnival of noise, banners flying high, each section battling for vocal supremacy. Brock Cole Lee stumbled, his lean frame struggling to hold up against Stone’s relentless assault.

Stone pulled Brock up, lifting him overhead in a feat of strength before crashing him down with a ring-shaking thud that seems to stop time for a split second.  Starz and GreenPete tagged back in and returned to the fray, locking up with an energy that seems impossible after such a furious pace. Their bodies snapped and flew with each movement, and the momentum swings back and forth. GreenPete held his own, the willowy underdog absorbed Starz’s punishment and coming back with a gritty determination that refused to die.

And then, the Progressive Alliance made their move, Charles Robinson-Richards… Blue State Esquire… on the orders of the rank and file of the Progressive Alliance… led a squad of political operatives down the aisle. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels, Union Jack Taylor, NPC, followed Robinson-Richards out and the Progressive Alliance section roared in approval as Starz and Stone found themselves outnumbered. 

Professor McCarthy from Berkeley, California also came rumbling out from the back hoisting in the air his good ‘book’ full of things politically correct (and incorrect) to say, believe, and think.  McCarthy’s Flock (Legion of Anti-Fascists #1 and #2, Codee Pink, Emily S. List, and The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior joined in the all-out blitz by the GWO’s allies.

That brought out American Patriot Neal Conn (making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order), Wall Street World’s Kirk Walstreit and P.M.C. Banks…  AND The Deplorables- ‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay and ‘Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan- once again showing that the American Heartland Coalition stood with the new CEO of PCW Donald Trump. 

Starz and Stone stood their ground and in the middle of the chaos. 

In the heat of the battle, a misstep sent it all spiraling out of control.  GreenPete charged forward like a missile, head down and full of intent, but Starz sidestepped at the last second and GreenPete took out the Extreme Vegan and removed him from the equation.

The shocked look on GreenPete’s face was matched only by the excitement of the crowd who chanted… PCW… PCW… PCW…

Stone Chism lifted GreenPete from behind and went for broke.

“Anti-Hollywood Blockbuster!” Johnny Suave’s voice boomed over the chaos, as Chism spiked GreenPete to the mat and rolled him up.  The referee made the count: One. Two. THREE.

“HOLY CRAP! THE MAGA-POWERS PULL IT OFF!” Suave yelled, voice electric with excitement.

Watching from the stage, shaking his head, was the Progressive Alliance’s Hakeem Jeffries. 

Suave dotted the ‘I’ and crossed the ‘T’. “Huge win for the MAGA-Powers and they remain the PCW Tag Team Champions!”

Sarah Mae Smith Promo Sarah Mae’s dressed and ready for her big shot tonight as she will challenge PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline later on in the show.  Pacing back and forth in her dressing room, she admitted that Catherine worked hard and earned her title shot- unlike Kathryn Randall Collins who used her political connections with the Progressive Alliance to secure her title match.

Tonight, Sarah Mae will do what all everyday Americans do… show up and work.  “I will go out there tonight and put everything I’ve got into beating Catherine Cline for the title,” she said.  “And if I don’t win… I’ll just go right back to work and try to earn another shot.  I won’t complain.  I won’t whine.  I will work.

Charlie Blackwell Promo Inside a darkened gymnasium in Dallas, Texas, the floor squeaked beneath his boots as Charlie Blackwell, in his element, entered the ring set up in the middle of the gym.

Charlie shook his head and said he warned the Progressive Alliance weeks ago that the jig was up.  He declared with a Texas drawl, “You think things are gettin’ crazy!  The Progressive Alliance are throwing a collective conniption because the adults have returned to power.”  Gripping the microphone tightly, he paced with erratic, intense energy.

Sweat dripped down his face as he pointed accusingly at Professor McCarthy, questioning, “He thinks he can come at me? Ya’ll think he scares me?”

Blackwell’s raw, unpolished honesty resonated with the fans watching the video screen at Hack’s, selling them not just a match, but his heart.

“Hell no,” Blackwell declares.  “Ain’t nobody gonna take this from me!” Charlie raised the title belt high, a symbol of his hard-fought victories. “Next week, I’m gonna do it for all of you folks out there… tired of the political bull-*BLEEP* between the American Patriots and the Progressive Alliance.  This belt ain’t just about me… it’s all about YOU!” 

The building seemed to creak from the weight of expectation, as everyone believed they were witnessing something monumental. “SNAFU.  When we meet on March 15th, y’all are walking into my world,” Charlie bellowed, his voice echoing through the empty gym.

Charlie moved around the ring with a determined chaos, his voice perfectly in sync with his steps. The camera zoomed in tightly, capturing every movement as he worked the mic with zeal. It panned back to show him stalking around, much like the champion he was.

“SNAFU may be tough and Coach E.J. Flack has him nerfing some gorlock or somethin’,” Charlie yelled, uncompromising and full-throated. “But ain’t none of that will matter.  SNAFU is gonna learn that Charlie Blackwell has got more fight in him than any one man should!”

He paused just long enough for the impact to sink in.

“And just so’s y’all know,” he had continued, “I earned this title and there ain’t a single thing I won’t do to keep this!” His voice had dipped, a low growl escalating into a roaring crescendo. He had shaken the belt again, punctuating his declaration with fierce, swinging gestures.

The video screen went black.  Suave said the stage was set and the message clear.  “Next week, it’s Blackwell and SNAFU for the PCW Title.”

Backstage Hakeem Jeffries shepherded Sulhee Jessica Woo, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Lauren Underwood, Katherine Clark, Judy Chu, Jasmine Crockett, and the rest of the Progressive Alliance inside their dressing room to have a ‘come to Jesus’ talk with them.  Jeffries slammed the door shut behind him.

Catherine Cline Interview PCW backstage reporter Woodward Bernstein brought in PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline right before she headed for the ring.  Bernstein brought up Sarah Mae Smith’s earlier comments.  Catherine replied, “I know Sarah Mae will come out and give it all she’s got.  My job tonight is to be better.  I’ve worked hard, too.  I’m in better shape now than I was before I won the title.” 

Woodward then asked about her young fans and how it feels to be a role model.  Cline attributed it by all the extra time she puts in.  “That is what it takes to excel. You have to do extra training and work and people see that.”  Catherine told Woodward she loves it that she inspires young girls to be the best that they can be.

Suave then announced it was time for the main event. 

**************************

MAIN EVENT- PCW WOMEN’S TITLE MATCH

‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

vs.

Catherine Cline (Independent) ©

**************************

The ‘American Girl’ came out to Tom Petty’s ‘American Girl’ accompanied by her Main Street USA faction mates: Ken Worth-American Trucker, Average Joe, Mike the Mechanic, and cocktail waitress Tequila Sheila came out to her own song- Bobby Bare’s ‘Tequila Sheila.’  Sheila did a twirl on stage before escorting the group to the ring.

‘Girl on Fire’ by Alicia Keys came on next and the ‘Iowa Wunderkind’ Catherine Cline came out from the back.  Cline slapped hands with the people… especially the young girls… at ringside. 

“Catherine Cline has taken the PCW Women’s division by storm,” Suave said

Cline and Smith faced off in the ring, both determined to make the night unforgettable. Catherine stood tall and agile, showcasing her evident athleticism. Sarah Mae, returning to the ring with something to prove, exuded pure grit and was determined to maintain her momentum.

Catherine charged but Sarah spun out of the way with precision. Catherine struck first, but Sarah evaded and delivered a hard strike. Catherine continued to fight, showcasing her youth and speed. Sarah countered with sheer toughness and determination.

Sarah used her strength to shift the momentum, tossing Catherine with a controlled fury that left the crowd gasping. They traded hits, with intensity rising every moment and each grapple pulling them deeper, the venue alive with shouts and chants that grew with every kick, every slam, every lightning-fast exchange.

Their styles contrasted as much as their appearances. Sarah Mae’s long auburn hair and classic wrestling gear told the story of someone who had lived and breathed wrestling life, her kind eyes flashing with determination reflecting both experience and passion. Catherine, the upstart young PCW Women’s Champion, was all focus and forward momentum, her striking features confident, her motions those of an athlete who excelled at everything.

Both had something to prove, pushing each other in a glorious chaos of skill and determination. Catherine unleashed a round of kicks, forcing Sarah Mae to retreat. Using her agility, she turned the match in her favor, driving Sarah to the ropes with intent to force her into a desperate position. Smith rolled out and Cline kept right on her as both women brawled at ringside. 

Smith climbed back to the apron and hit a suicide dive, crashing Cline hard against the barricade. Back inside the ring, Cline attempted a dropkick but instead Smith ducked under and landed a neckbreaker. Smith then connected with an elbow drop from the top rope, but her next move was countered into a Death Valley Driver.  Smith somehow got out of the ring and the action moved back outside, where Cline hit another dropkick, sending Smith crashing into the barricade again.

Sarah proved to be incredibly resilient, refusing to concede even an inch. Her counterattack to Cline were fierce and unexpected, allowing her to battle back from the brink.  Back in the ring, Smith reversed a pin attempt with raw strength and Cline rolled out of the ring to take a breather.

The momentum swings were wild, leaving the crowd breathless and excited as the match swung back and forth. The energy was frantic, with the outcome uncertain as both women stretched their limits.

The fans fired up as Cline climbed the corner turnbuckle and dropped a top rope big elbow to Smith.  Cline covered but again, Smith kicked at out two! The fans fired up.  Cline scooped Smith and ran to the corner! Cline rushed in, Smith side-stepped and flung Cline into the corner and the PCW Women’s Champion hit the turnbuckles at full speed.  Cline staggers away.  Smith followed and tried to clothesline her but Cline ducked out.  Cline then blocked the lariat to hit a belly to back suplex.  High stack by Cline but Smith kicked out at two!  Smith grew frustrated. Tequila Sheila and Ken Worth coached from the apron.  Cline hooked Smith up for a vertical suplex… Smith fought out and she lifted Cline for a body slam… Cline slipped out the back door and TOSSED Smith out of the ring again.  Tequila Sheila looked on worried and the toll of the match became evident, with each slam showcasing their stamina and refusal to concede. Exhausted but determined, they pushed harder, with Catherine’s attacks being strategic and Sarah remaining a force of nature.

Sarah moved in for the finish after somehow getting another second win.  Smith went for her finisher.  Cline pivoted at the last second, turning Sarah’s momentum against her and going for a final, desperate roll up pin.

The referee dropped to the mat, his count echoing across the room. “One, two, three” and it was over.

Cline’s hand was raised in victory and then she held up the PCW Women’s Title belt.

Suave hyped next Saturday’s show that will feature:

PCW TITLE MATCH: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland Coalition) © vs. SNAFU w/Coach E.J. Flack

PCW was brought to you by:

Upbeat music plays, camera pans over a rugged Pennsylvania landscape before cutting to a confident John Fetterman standing tall in his signature look.

Voiceover: Say goodbye to stiff suits and stuffy ties—this is Western PA business casual, redefined. Picture this: a bold Carhartt hoodie, tough enough for the steel mills, cozy enough for the campaign trail. Paired with roomy cargo shorts or Dickies work pants—because who needs a tailored fit when you’re carrying the weight of the working class? And those sneakers? They’re not just shoes—they’re a statement: grounded, practical, ready to roll up the sleeves and get to work.

Cut to Fetterman walking through a crowd, high-fiving supporters, hoodie emblazoned with a subtle Pennsylvania vibe

Voiceover (picking up tempo): This isn’t just fashion—it’s a lifestyle. No fuss, no frills, just real. Whether he’s casting votes from the Senate doorway or shaking up the status quo, Fetterman’s look screams authenticity. Oversized? You bet—because big ideas need breathing room. Durable? Like the man himself. And for those rare ‘suit-up’ moments—like an inauguration or a GQ feature—he’s got that one dark number, pressed and ready, proving versatility’s always in his back pocket.

Quick montage: Fetterman in his hoodie at a rally, then in shorts at a picnic, then—bam!—suited up for a formal event, smirking at the camera

Voiceover (warm, inviting): “From Braddock to the Capitol, John Fetterman’s Wearhouse is for the Everyman who’s anything but ordinary. No dress code can tame it, no critic can fade it. Available now in every working-class heart—and maybe your closet, too. John Fetterman: dressing down to lift us up!

John Fetterman: Now announcing…

Voiceover (deep, steady, with a hint of defiance): The Volodymyr Zelensky Wardrobe Collection—crafted not just for a man, but for a mission. This is more than menswear; it’s a mantle of resolve. Step into the Damirli three-button knitted polo—black as the night of struggle, emblazoned with the Ukrainian trident, a symbol forged in history, radiating strength and unity. Tailored by Elvira Gasanova, it’s a fit that bridges the battlefield and the boardroom, whispering resilience with every stitch.”

Cut to Zelensky striding through Kyiv’s streets, the trident catching the light, then standing tall in a diplomatic hall

Voiceover (gaining intensity): Pair it with the Damirli black trousers—sleek, unyielding, a match that moves with purpose, not pomp. And the boots—combat-ready yet refined—grounding every step in the weight of a nation’s fight. This isn’t fashion for the faint-hearted; it’s a uniform for the fearless. From the front lines to the White House, it’s a look that says, ‘I stand with my people.’ No suits, no ties—just the raw, unfiltered spirit of leadership.

Montage: Zelensky in olive-green tactical gear at a military outpost, then in the black ensemble addressing world leaders, eyes fierce with determination.

Voiceover (soaring, emotional): Every thread tells a story—of solidarity, of survival, of a man who turned a wardrobe into a weapon of will. The Zelensky Collection isn’t just worn—it’s lived. Bold. Uncompromising. Timeless. Available in the heart of every warrior—and now, a symbol you can wear. Volodymyr Zelensky: dressing the fight for freedom.

Screen fades to black with tagline: ‘John Fetterman’s Wearhouse: Be unapologetically You.

[pcwpolwrestling]

3/1-Zelensky Thrown Out of PCW Show Last Night/Rebroadcast of PCW's First Ever Event 20 Years Ago

Breaking News Last night, there was controversy at Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon during the taping of PCW’s 20th Anniversary show. 

Following an altercation involving him, PCW CEO Donald Trump, and COO J.D. Vance, PCW owner Dawn McGill ejected Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky from the building.

Zelensky left followed by the Ukrainian Ambassador to the United States, who covered her eyes with her hands and shook her head in disapproval and a dismayed Marco Rubio along with a few other individuals who exited alongside them.

Moments later, Dawn McGill emerged and stated, “You don’t show up at MY house, hat in hand, looking for help and money, only to act with childish petulance and sheer arrogance towards us. I don’t care if the CEO of PCW is an American Patriot or part of the Progressive Alliance—Trump, Biden, Harris, whoever. You don’t come into my house and behave like that.”

Zelensky then left with his people.

Then… McGill threw out Chris Murphy (Progressive Alliance-CT), Charles Grassley American Patriots-IA), Chris Van Hollen (PA-MD), Amy Klobuchar, (PA-MN), Jacky Rosen, (PA-NV), Lindsey Graham (AP-SC), Dick Blumenthal (PA-CT), Roger Wicker (AP-MS), Peter Welch and Sheldon Whitehouse (PA-RI) for ‘putting Zelensky up to it.’

Last night’s show featured three title matches. 

The PCW Tag Team Title match between champions The MAGA-Powers and The Green World Order and the PCW Women’s Title bout between champion Catherine Cline and challenger ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith representing Main Street USA will feature on this Saturday’s PCW Extreme Political TV. 

The PCW Title match between champion Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) and SNAFU w/Coach E.J. Flack will feature on the Saturday March 15th edition of Extreme Political TV.

PCW Loose Cannons Unleashed Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon March 1st, 2005

Who is the current CEO of PCW: George W. Bush COO: Dick Cheney

Opening “The American Screamer” Howard Dean sticks his head inside the office of Bill and Hillary Clinton.  Dean tries to curry favor with the Clintons as he vies for the leadership of the Progressive Alliance. 

“If I’m in charge,” Dean brags, “I’ll cut through the American Patriots like hot knife through butter!  I’ll take on George W. and all of his right-wing cronies.” 

Dean then ticks off a number of names including “The Texas Hammer” Tom DeLay, Condoleezza Rice, the Bomb Brothers, “Mr. Old School” Don Rumsfeld, “The Mastermind” Karl Rove, and The God Squad of whom he’ll take on. 

Dean, getting more and more excited as he talks, tells the Clintons, “We’ll fight them in Ohio!  In Indiana!  Illinois!  Michigan!  Pennsylvania!  Wisconsin!  ALL THE WAY TO ULTIMATE VICTORY!”  Dean adds his trademark yell, “YEEEEEE-AAAHHHH!………….what?………right, sir…I’ll tone it down a bit.” 

Dean backs out of the office.  “Make a difference, huh?” he says with a determined scowl on his face, “Oh yeah.  I can make a BIG difference.  YEEEEEE-AAAHHHHHH!” 

“HOWARD!” yells an annoyed Bill Clinton from his office. 

“Right…forgot…sorry…,” Dean apologizes profusely.

The capacity crowd inside Hack’s chants ‘PCW…PCW!’ as Johnny Suave stands in the middle of the ring next to his co-host- a life size cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain.   He introduces the ring announcer Charlene Ann Cantrell and she introduces the first match of the night.

MATCH #1: Bill O’Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, and Ann Coulter of the American Patriots vs. Al Franken, Michael Moore, and Janean Garofalo of the Progressive Alliance’s Hollywood Left wing.  “This is a six man tag team grudge match!” she says, “In this corner, representing the American Pa-” 

Garofalo interrupts her and reminds her that there are two women competing in the match.   “I’m not a man,” she states and then points over to Ann Coulter, “and I’m sure the right-wing fascist toothpick over there isn’t a man …and she isn’t much of a woman either.” 

The match is about to begin when Ann Coulter, the woman who hates the Progressive Alliance so much that she could write book after book after book about how much she hates the Progressive Alliance……and she does, takes the mic from Charlene Ann Cantrell.  “What’s the best way to talk to a liberal,” she asks.  After a few seconds of awkward silence roll by she answers her own question.  “As little as possible.” 

Coulter laughs heartily at her joke until Garofalo attacks her and starts a catfight.   Both women roll around the ring before they tumble out on onto the floor and then scuffle all the way back to the locker room. 

Then “The Spinbuster” Bill O’Reilly from the “no spinning zone” takes the mic and rips into the Progressive Alliance for “spouting the same old negative spin.”  He begins to analyze the issue in a “fair and balanced” way when he is interrupted by Al Franken- host of “Al Franken presents the “Al Franken Factor Max Factor Factor starring Al Franken.” 

Franken tells O’Reilly that his “crack” staff consisting of left-wing college professors researched a comment O’Reilly made earlier in the night that he would be out in ‘just a minute’ and determined that because it took more than a minute for O’Reilly to appear that it was indisputable proof that O’Reilly and the American Patriots were nothing more than pathological lying, lying liars. 

Then the “Innovator of Excellence in Wrestling” Rush Limbaugh, El Rushbo, the Great One, all knowing, all seeing, the MahaRushbie, with talent on loan from Rob, gets into the action.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Franken says, “just who the hell is Rob?”  “That’s not important,” Limbaugh replies.  After trumpeting his research and superior show preparation, Limbaugh claims that Franken has made inaccurate statements about him.  “You said, and I quote here, that I was nothing more than a ‘big, fat, obese idiot,” Limbaugh says pointing to his svelte, lean figure, “Well Mr. Franken, for your information everyone can plainly see that I am neither big, fat, or obese.  Once again, you are wrong and I am right.”

Then Michael Moore gets into the act.  He claims that he has indisputable proof that Limbaugh is big, fat, and obese.  He then rolls a film clip he calls “Refrigerate 9:11” which consists of a poorly spliced together piece that is awkwardly edited to portray Limbaugh as a hundred times larger than he really is.

Over the loudspeaker, the opening riffs to AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” blares.  Johnny Suave, joined by “The Texas Hammer” Tom DeLay of the American Patriots and Justin Sufferable from the Progressive Alliance, shouts out, “Is that who I think it is?”  The crowd cheers as a man with a steel-folding chair runs to the ring.  “IT’S THE EXTREME EQUALIZER WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT!”  Suave yells. 

DeLay and Sufferable are less than thrilled. 

“What’s HE doing here,” grouses Sufferable. 

WTF climbs inside the ring and walks right up to Bill O’Reilly. 

*CLANG* 

WTF takes out O’Reilly with the steel-folding chair. 

*CLANG* 

Down goes Rush Limbaugh.  Justin Sufferable loves every moment of it while DeLay throws a fit.  “What the hell is he doing?” he complains.  “Why is he only picking on the American Patriots?” 

Then WTF bumps into Al Franken.  Franken smiles at WTF.  WTF smiles right back.  Awkward pause.  Then… *CLANG*  “HEY!  WHAT’D HE DO THAT FOR?” a surprised Sufferable shouts.  Franken staggers across the ring and barrels into Michael Moore.  

“THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!” crows DeLay. Moore and his large frame then get stuck in the ropes and he can’t get out.  WTF slowly walks over to him.   “Oh no…no…don’t do it.” Sufferable pleads while DeLay encourages WTF on.  WTF winds up.  *CLANG*  Moore’s torso tips down causing his legs to come up and crotch Al Franken.  Franken staggers back across the ring and conks head with Bill O’Reilly. 

The crowd shouts, “WTF…WTF…” as Moore’s body returns to its original position on the ropes and then they tell Whiskey Tango Foxtrot to do it again. 

“That’s enough,” Justin Sufferable says, “He can’t move!”  WTF winds up again and…

*CLANG*  

…Moore slides forward through the ropes and lands outside on the concrete floor. 

“DAMN YOU WTF!” Justin Sufferable shouts.

 “UNBELIVABLE!” Suave observes from his ringside broadcast position, “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot comes in and totally cleans house!” 

“Oh shut up,” retorts Sufferable.

Green World Order Promo With a cheap banner for Green World Order hanging behind her, Peta from PETA along with her companion, Doug the Dog, rips into dog owners who chain their pets to a “so-called dog house or worse- chain them to a pole in the back yard.”  She makes it clear that PETA will not stand for this “cruel and inhumane” treatment and that dogs aren’t “some piece of disposable clothing” or “toys you throw away when you get tired of them.” 

“Dogs are people too,” argues Peta, “how would YOU like it if someone chained you up to a small dingy house with only a bowl of water to drink.  How would you like it if someone chained you to a pole…well, unless you’re into that kind of thing.”  Peta states that a dog’s life is just as important as her life and your life.  Doug the dog barks in agreement.

Then she complains about the food that “you savages” feed dogs with, referring to it as “meat-based slop.”  Peta recommends several wholesome and vegan alternatives instead.  She guarantees that “once the GWO takes over” that all of these “abuses” will stop.  “Dogs, cats, and all living things will live harmoniously together.  Right Doug?”  Again, Doug the dog barks in agreement.  Then he takes off.

Peta then comments that her dog is her friend and doesn’t need a leash.  “He is free to go wherever he wants to because he is a living, breathing, intelligent creature just like you and-”

Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires is heard following by a *THUMP*, then a dog yelping, another *THUMP*, *THUMP*, a dog whimpering, then *THUMP, *THUMP*, *THUMP.*  Peta stands there in shock before another *THUMP* is heard. 

Then she lets out a hideously shrill scream and runs off shouting “MURDERER!  STOP THAT CAR!”

Michael Powell segment With a long, long line of people patiently waiting, Buckland County Sheriff Gina “Gigi” Ramsey is shown signing copies of the book “Loose Cannons of Buckland County” as well as her pictorials, calendars, trading cards, and other assorted items from her souvenir stand.  Then Johnny Suave introduces Michael Powell of the FCC.  Powell immediately clarifies that he did not get the job at the FCC because of his famous father. 

“Yeah right,” retorts Suave who enjoys a beverage with the life-size cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain next to him.  Powell explains that George W. brought him to PCW to clean up several problems.  First Powell notes that there are some people in PCW who use inappropriate and profane language.  Powell pauses as the audience boos.  Then Powell states that there were those who display lewd, crude, and deviant behavior.  The crowd again expresses its displeasure.  Powell goes on to note that there are wrestlers and managers who wear skimpy outfits to the ring.  Powell declares, “I have come here to PCW to lay down the law!  It’s time to clean up the moral cesspool that PCW has become!” 

The audience stands up in unison and boos. 

First, Powell states that anyone using inappropriate language on this show will be fined. 

More boos.

Powell then says that anyone who acts inappropriately lewd, crude, or vulgar will also be fined.  The audience begins to throw things into the ring.  Powell continues: “And if you come out here wearing something too skimpy, too revealing, or otherwise inappropriate-” 

Someone from the audience yells out “%#@# you!”

 A furious Powell whips out a little pad and pencil and searches for the offender.  The crowd continues to hurl expletives at the embattled Powell who threatens to fine “each and every person in the building.”  “I’LL FINE YOU…AND YOU……AND ESPECIALLY YOU!” he shouts over the crowd who by then are chanting “@##$ you Mike-kell, @##@ you!  “YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!” Powell bellows and furiously writes down names in his little notepad.

Over the loudspeaker, Christian, religious-type action music plays as the Pious Pair, Reverend James Dobson and his flunky Jerry Falwell aka The God Squad, hit the ring.  Immediately Rev. Dobson tells the audience to shut up so he and Falwell can speak.  The crowd won’t let him as the “@##$ you” boom throughout the building. 

Finally, Rev Dobson shouts, “FOR THE LAST TIME YOU GODLESS HEATHENS, SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN!”  The boos and chants continue to cascade across the bar.  Dobson gives up and yells into the mic, “WE JUST CAME OUT HERE TO SAY THAT THE GOD SQUAD SUPPORTS MICHAEL POWELL AND HIS NOBLE CRUSADE TO RID PCW OF ALL DECADENCE ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!”  Dobson also adds that the “hammer of God” is going to come down on all those who do not clean up their act.

 As they exit the ring, Dobson points at Johnny Suave and demands that he take down that “cheap piece of cardboard”- referring to the cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain.  Suave jumps in front of the cut-out and thankfully the next match gets underway.

MATCH #2: “No Frills” Chris Escondido vs. Little Paulie of the American Bikers with his father Big Paulie in his corner. Both men battle back and forth with no one gaining any appreciable advantage.  Late in the match, Little Paulie appears to be ready to put Escondido away when inexplicably he gets into an argument with his father Big Paulie.  Big Paulie gripes that Little Paulie is taking too much time to put his opponent away.

“It’s the same old *bleep*,” Big Paulie grumbles, “If I want something *bleep*-ing done right I’ve got to do it myself!”

Big Paulie gets into the ring and argues with Little Paulie in the corner.  While the American Bikers are distracted, “The American Screamer” Howard Dean sneaks into the ring and blasts Little Paulie over the head with a crowbar.  Little Paulie gets knocked into Big Paulie, Escondido immediately covers Little Paulie for the win. 

Backstage Backstage, Tim Roemer watches with interest with his manager Nancy “the Attack Poodle” Pelosi.    Pelosi advises Roemer that he’d better act fast if he wanted to be the new leader of the Progressive Alliance. 

Roemer notes that Dean thinks that he can impress the Clintons by being an impact kind of guy. 

“You know,” Roemer says, “I also can be an impact kind of guy!” 

“Meaning?” asks Pelosi. 

Roemer scratches his head.  “Meaning…that…I can be an…impact kind of guy too?.  What?  Did I not say that right or something?”

Inside “the American Screamer” Howard Dean’s dressing room, Dean watches with a barmaid as Roemer’s interference helps Spackel win the match.  “Hmmm, I guess this means Tim Roemer means business!  I guess it’s time to make it clear that I mean business too!  YEEEEEE-AAAAHHHH!” 

“HOWARD!” the barmaid responds.  “Sorry…,” Dean profusely apologizes.

Back in the ring, Charlene Ann Cantrell gets ready to introduce Charles Robinson-Richards, Blue State Esq. 

Charles Robinson-Richards, Blue State Esq. Segment While sipping a cappuccino, he starts off by stating that he detests being in a “red state” where the people are “inbred, ignorant, redneck hicks” and clearly inferior to us enlightened people who live in the blue states.  He then goes on to say that it’s a shame that it takes “you people” multiple jobs, working 45-55 hours a week, just to make as much in a year as he makes in one week. 

The crowd reacts by booing him and flipping him off.  

Robinson-Richards then says, “Even with that, you still can’t stop buying your cheap beer, your cigarettes, your meth, because you people file bankruptcy more than we do in the blue states.”  He goes on to compare the high cultural lifestyle that the blue states have (Shopping at Sachs Fifth Avenue, operas, fine dining, champagne and caviar) vs. the red states (Wal-Mart, Blue Collar Comedy Tour, Hooters, PBR). 

The crowd really gets riled up when he says that the best thing the federal government could do is to declare what he considers to be flyover country (ie…everything between the west and east coast) a complete disaster area and turn it into a giant national park.  Robinson-Richards further inflames the crowd by referring to two Americas: ‘Enlightenedland’- those who voted for John Kerry, ‘Jesusland’- those who voted for George W. Bush. 

At that point, the Extreme Equalizer Whiskey Tango Foxtrot appears out of nowhere and gets a standing ovation after he blasts Robinson-Richards over the head with a steel folding chair. 

“I guess no one saw that one coming a mile away,” observes Suave.

The Dixie Chucks Interview The Dixie Chucks are three men who each dress like a member of the Dixie Chicks.  There’s Chuck-atalie,  Chuck-mily, and Chuck-artie. 

Suave tells them that it’s been a “long time gone” since they’d last saw the Dixie Chucks and that he had a feeling that they came from “wide open spaces” to be there not because they’re “ready to run,” not because they wanted a “cowboy take me away” kind of thing.  “You’re out here because there’s something bothering you,” concludes Suave, “am I right?” 

Chuck-atalie, not impressed with Suave’s wit, tells him to save it and claims that it is “an injustice what has been done to the Dixie Chicks.” 

“Oh, ‘there’s your trouble’” cracks Suave. 

Chuck-mily chimes in, “Free speech means free speech.  What has happened to these lovely women is totally against the American way!”  He also adds that people may not like what they have to say, “but you don’t have to.” 

Suave commends them on their noble sentiments.  “I presume you’re referring to the recent comments made by Earl Locke of the tag team Locke and Loade about the Dixie Chicks and you would all like to say…oh, I don’t know…perhaps, ‘Goodbye Earl?’” 

This offends Chuck-artie who tell Suave he doesn’t appreciate his “smart-ass comments” and if he doesn’t stop he’ll take away the cardboard cut-out of “that no-talent singer who doesn’t belong on the same stage, who isn’t remotely in the same league as the Dixie Chicks.”

Suave backs away and protects his cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain. 

Chuck-artie points at the audience, “I’m putting you and everyone here in PCW on notice.  Anyone, I repeat, anyone who says anything bad about the Dixie Chicks from now on will answer to us.” 

Chuck-atalie adds: “That’s right.  You say something bad about the Dixie Chicks.  The Dixie Chucks are gonna KICK YOUR ASS!”

Suddenly, the opening riffs to Toby Keith’s “How Do You Like Me Now?” blare over the sound system and out comes Earl Locke and Gary Loade aka ‘The Raving Rednecks’ Locke and Loade.  Locke comes out carrying a huge picture of Toby Keith and waves it in Chuck-atalie’s face. 

“WHO’S YOUR DADDY?” he screams, “HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?”  “The BIG DOGS are here!”

Loade says, “It’s time to Locke and Loade baby, Locke and Loade!”

 Suave then asks them to respond to the Dixie Chucks.  Loade first compliments Suave on the cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain.  Then he tells the Dixie Chucks: “You come out talking all this tough talk about kicking people’s asses if they insult the Dixie Chicks.  Hell the way y’all are dressed, I don’t think you’re in any position to kick anyone’s ass!  If anything, we’ll put a boot in your ass cause that’s the Locke and Loade way!” 

The Dixie Chucks talk trash in return. 

Locke then speaks up.  “Now hold on a sec Gary.  I really don’t have that much of a problem with the way these guys are dressed.”

 “Oh?” a surprised Loade says.

“Hell, the way I see it,” Locke continues, “in those outfits these guys look a hell of a lot better than the Dixie Chicks-” 

Immediately, the Dixie Chuck’s attack Locke and Loade and another impromptu match begins.

MATCH #3: The Dixie Chucks vs. “The Raving Rednecks” Locke and Loade. This is an all out free-for-all.  No structure to the match.  Basically five people beating the living hell out of each other.  Chuck-atalie gets unceremoniously dumped out of the ring and then Chuck-mily is knocked woozy by some double team work by Locke and Loade. 

Chuck-artie is set up for Locke and Loade’s patented finisher- “The Redneck 4-D Death Blast.”  Locke and Loade executes the maneuver to perfection and Chuck-artie is out.  Loade covers and then…

YEEEEE-AAHHHHH! 

“The American Screamer” Howard Dean runs in and distracts the referee.  While Loade argues with Dean and the referee, Chuck-mily ties up with Locke and keeps him busy.  Chuck-atalie sneaks back in the ring with the Toby Keith picture and blasts an unsuspecting Loade with it.  Loade is out.  Chuck-atalie covers and gets the pin.

Backstage Nancy Pelosi stews as she watches Dean interfere in the match. 

“OOOH, that Howard Dean!” she whines, “Tim, are you going to let him one up you like that?” 

Roemer tells Pelosi that the leadership of the Progressive Alliance is important and prestigious and that Dean was obviously serious about showing the Clintons that “he can be the man.”  Roemer adds, “I need to be able to show everyone that I can be ‘the man’ as well.” 

Again, Pelosi responds, “Meaning?”  “Meaning…that…I can be…the man too?” replies Roemer, “Look.  Am I not making myself clear here?”

Martha Stewart Returns Domestic Diva Martha Stewart gets released from prison.  She comes out of the jail looking in excellent shape and wearing a ridiculous looking shawl.  She proceeds to complain about being cooped up for five long months.   Stewart states that “they tried to break me” and tried to keep busy by doing a couple of side projects to keep her mind active in a “neat and tidy” fashion. 

After recognizing that there was only so much she could do with bedsheets and toilet papers (the doilies kept falling apart), a bored Stewart states she found a new outlet to keep busy.   She rolls up her sleeves and shows off her impressively muscular arm.  “Look at these guns,” Martha proclaims, “I’m ripped baby.  I already had the brains but now I’ve got the brawn to back it up!”   She then issues an open challenge to the PCW women’s champion- Condoleezza Rice.  “You’ve got what I want,” Stewart declares, “that belt belongs to me and I will do anything, I repeat, ANYTHING to get it back.”  Stewart then whips around and slides down the back of her shirt to reveal a Max Cady-like tattoo of a cRush on her back with the inscription “Hell hath no fury as a pissed off domestic diva” written around it.  “And if you thought I was a cold calculating bitch before,” Martha hisses, “guess what?  I’m about to take it to a whole…new…level.”

At that point a sheriff’s deputy slaps an electronic monitoring device on Stewart’s ankle.  “The only whole new level you’ll be seeing in the next five months is the upstairs of your house.  You’re under house arrest toots.  That’s the condition of your parole.”

Enraged, Stewart lets off a few colorfully tinged adjectives and expletives as the Deputy drags her off  to her waiting car to take the Domestic Diva home.

MATCH #4: PCW Women’s Champion Condoleezza Rice vs. Barbara Boxer We return to ringside where Johnny Suave appears to be in deep conversation with the Shania Twain cardboard cut-out.   Suave turns beet red when he realizes he’s on camera.  Suave quickly brings out the PCW women’s champion Condoleezza Rice to discuss comments about her made by the Progressive Alliance’s Barbara Boxer including accusing the women’s champion of lying, distorting the facts, and most egregiously, being a lousy dresser.

Rice comes out dressed all in black with a black skirt that hits just above the knee and a black coat with seven gold buttons in the front that resembled something that Keanu Reeves would wear in the movie “The Matrix.  Looking very serious, she addresses Boxer, “Barbara Boxer, you can challenge my credibility,” she says walking to one end of the ring.  “You can even attack my honesty,” she says pacing to the other side of the ring.  “I’ll even let you question my intregrity.”   She stops in the middle of the ring and points at the crowd.  “But when you attacked my keen sense of fashion- you went too far.  You crossed the line and now you’re going to pay!” 

The crowd cheers as she calls out Boxer, “So get your *** down here because Condoleezza 3:16, 17, and 18 says that I’m going to stick these four inch heels so far up your ****** *** that you won’t be able to **** ****** for two weeks!” 

“WOW,” a very surprised Suave says, “she’s stone…cold…serious.”  Boxer immediately flies into the ring and launches herself at Rice and its on. 

Both women roll around the ring trying to gain an advantage.  Then “The Texas Hammer” Tom DeLay and his flunky Dennis “The Doughboy” Hastert show up.  They get into the ring and surround Boxer as another man shows up ringside- pointing his finger at his temple to signify his superior intellect.  “The Mastermind Karl Rove?” 

Suave says, “It’s a trap.  This was all a set up!” 

Boxer has nowhere to go when help arrives.  Both Howard Dean and Tim Roemer run out to help their Progressive Alliance colleague and literally meet each other in the middle of the ring. 

At that point, DeLay, Hastert, and Rice bail out of the ring leaving the two men who both desperately want to lead the Progressive Alliance nose to nose.  The Mastermind Karl Rove smiles as he walks backwards towards the dressing room- still pointing to his temple to show everyone what a freakin’ genius he is.

Dean pushes Roemer.  Roemer pushes Dean.  It looks like they are about to have at it when the entire roster of the Progressive Alliance led by Bill Clinton swarm the ring and break the two men up. 

In George W.’s office, both W. and his aide de camp Dick are amused at the whole thing.  Dick hands W. his speech for the State of PCW address he is about to give. 

“Thanks,” an appreciative W. says to Dick, “I sure don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“That’s okay,” Dick returns, “I know in a Star Wars sense that I’m your Lobot and you’re my Lando Calrissian.” 

W. looks totally confused.  “Lando who?”  

“Ah, nevermind.” Dick says, ‘just go out and give your speech.”

George W’s “State of PCW” address. A ragtag, out of tune mariachi band plays a hideously off-key version of “Hail to the Chief” as George W. slowly walks down the aisle.  W. cringes every time the band hits a particularly sour note.  The entire roster gathers around the ring.  The Progressive Alliance hang out on the left side of the ring (of course) and look on in stony silence.  The American Patriots stand to the right and they are ecstatically happy.  Everyone else co-mingles in the middle, half-heartedly clapping.

W. climbs into the ring and walks to the podium.  “Ladies and gentlemen, I can proudly say without any reservation that the state of PCW is strong!”  W. declares.  “For a small, disparate group several notches below the Professional Wrestling Association, we’ve had a pretty good year.  But now we are poised to do even better.”

A projection screen comes down behind W. 

“PCW is well-positioned with a great and worthy men’s champion to be our flagship and signature wrestler- Rafael Barry Giambee!  It’s hard to believe that two years ago, he looked like this.”

The ‘before’ photo of Giambee appears on the screen.  He is 6’-2” and weighs a scant 175. 

“Now look at him,” continues W.  The ‘after’ photo then appears.  Giambee is now 6’-3” and over 350 pounds. 

The crowd chants “ROIDS!  ROIDS!  ROIDS!” which enrages the man monster.  Giambee growls menacingly back to the audience. 

“Easy pardner,” W. says and then tries to calm the crowd down, “Rafael Barry Giambee should be an inspiration to us all.  The way he has worked his way up the ladder and to be the-” 

“Point of order,” a snobbish, northeastern voice calls out.

It’s the Massachusetts Blueblood- JFK… John F’n Kerry!” observes Suave. 

“Point of order Mr. CEO,” JFK continues, “if what you say is true then I must submit to you that the true measure of a great champion is taking on the best of the best and besting them…or something to that effect.” 

“What’s your point?” an annoyed W. asks. 

“When was the last time Mr. Giambee defended the PCW title?” JFK asks. 

A few seconds of silence goes by and then many people in the audience begin to ask the same thing. 

“How about Justin Sufferable?” JFK says, “he deserves a shot.  What about Chris Escondido?  Doesn’t he deserve his chance too?” 

The crowd begins to side with the Massachusetts Blueblood making W. very uncomfortable. 

“Well, why not tonight?” JFK continues, “what do you all think?” 

The crowd roars with delight.  

“Well Mr. CEO,” JFK says, “are you going to give the people what they want?” 

W. bites his lower lip nervously.  “Bring your boys out here in ten minutes,” he says and then walks out of the ring. 

Chris Escondido, Justin Sufferable, and JFK exchange high fives in the ring.

Back in W’s office after the speech, W. stomps in very upset at the intrusion of his State of PCW address.  Dick and the Mastermind Karl Rove confer and then address the problem. 

“Mr. CEO, not to worry,” Dick says reassuringly, “we’ve got everything under control.”  Dick then whispers into W’s ear. 

W’s frown quickly turns into a big smile.  “That’s very good,” W says and begins to laugh in his offbeat Texan way while Karl Rove again points his finger at his temple to remind us that he’s a friggin’ genius.

MATCH #5: The Green World Order vs. The Bomb Brothers with Daisy Cutter Bomb In the ring, the Green World Order (the Vengeful Vegan Brock Cole Lee and the Peaceniks) observes the passing of the 2nd anniversary of the Iraqi war by having a moment of silence.

During the moment of silence, Peacenik #1 rants about the “lives lost in this unjust and illegal war” and demands that the United States “bring the troops home now.” 

The sound of an explosion blares over the loudspeakers and the very well-endowed and scantily dressed Daisy Cutter-Bomb leads the Bomb Brothers (A. Tom Bomb, Newt Tron-Bomb, and  Hy Drogen-Bomb) down the aisle to the ring.  

A. Tom holds up a placard with a picture of President Bush holding up a can of whup-ass with the caption “Y’all don’t mind if I open up a can of this?”  

The GWO becomes irate at the placard and Peacenik #2 screeches at them, “How dare you interrupt our solemn moment of silence.” 

“Let’s just say that we’ve come out here to peacefully and non-violently kick your ass!” retorts Newt.

“THAT’S IT!” a voice booms.  It’s Michael Powell of the FCC and he looks angry. 

“Jeez, what the hell does he want now,” Suave says. 

Powell marches to the ring and proceeds to read everyone the riot act.   Powell objects to the language, Daisy Cutter-Bomb’s outfit, and whips out his little pad and pencil to begin to write people up.  

“NOT SO ******* FAST!” another voice calls out.  Powell looks up and is stunned to see his arch-enemy- the Sultan of Shock himself- Howard Stern. 

They begin to jaw back and forth.  Powell tries to uphold “dignity” and “values.”  Everything that Stearns says in return is bleeped and censored. 

Finally, Stern says something that gets Powell’s attention. 

“What do you mean ‘you’re getting Sirius?” Powell asks.

Suddenly the SRB appears next to Stern. 

“IT’S THE SKANKY RICH BIMBOS!” Suave cries out, “PARIS AND NICOLE HAVE JOINED FORCES WITH THE SULTAN OF SHOCK!” 

The crowd begins to chant, “she’s a crack whore…she’s a crack whore…” 

Paris responds.  “You all are just jealous.  Because *we* sizzle.  You……ah……you…” 

Stern whispers something in her ear. 

“…right…you *fizzle*.” 

Hilton and Richie get into the ring to confront Powell.  Suddenly, Richie goes for her signature move and pulls her top off. 

“WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!” Suave yells, “WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!” 

While Powell is stunned, Hilton leaps on him and knocks him down into the corner of the ring.  Then she puts her crotch in Powell’s face and does a “bronco buster” type wrestling move on him. 

“COOTCHIE CUTTER!” screams Suave in a high-pitched voice, “COOTCHIE CUTTER!” Then Suave throws up. “Oooh man.  That has got to be the most vile, digusting move I have ever seen!”  He then adds, “And I’ve seen a lot of them.” 

Powell is out in the ring.  Meanwhile, the GWO and the Bomb Brothers go at it on the outside. 

Then the pious pair, the God Squad- Rev. Dobson and Jerry Falwell- hits the ring and attacks the SRB.  Richie is knocked out and falls face first onto the canvas.  The crowd boos.   Rev. Dobson then bends Paris over his knee while Falwell gets ready to spank her. 

The crowd cheers. 

A lot. 

A tall guy with long hair bursts in and clobbers Falwell.    The crowd boos again. 

“IT’S UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO PROFESSOR WARD CHURCHILL!” Suave exclaims. 

Churchill sends Rev. Dobson flying over the top rope and then takes the mic. 

“YOU SUCK,” he shouts at the God Squad, “AND YOU SUCK,” he shouts at the Bomb brothers, “AND YOU ALL SUCK,” he shouts and points at the crowd.  “You know why 9/11 occurred?  Because AMERICA SUCKS, that’s wh-” 

Out of nowhere, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot blasts Churchill from behind and knocks him forward into the arms of a six foot tall demolition machine in a short skirt. 

“THAT’S DAWN McGILL!” Suave says excitedly, “BUT SHE’S WITH THE PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING ASSOCIATION!  WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING HERE?” 

McGill drills Churchill in the balls where her six inch spiked heels.  Then WTF delivers the coup de gras with a steel-folding chair shot across Churchill’s back. 

Meeting Between JFK and George W Finally, the Massachusetts Blueblood JFK comes out with Justin Sufferable and Chris Escondido and meets George W. in the ring. 

“No Rafael Barry Giambee,” Johnny Suave observes, “I wonder what’s going on.” 

So does JFK. 

“Where’s the champion?” he demands to know. 

“Hold on a sec,” W responds, “yes, I promised there would be a title defense tonight.  And there will be.”  W. pauses to let the crowd cheer.  “But since I’m a compassionatery kinda guy, I thought we’d do something different.  Like…I don’t know…give YOU the title shot tonight!”   

Everyone stands up and cheers as JFK is taken aback. 

“WOW!  I didn’t expect THAT!” says Suave, “Justin Sufferable and Chris Escondido are pissed!”

The duo stalks angrily back and forth across the ring.  W. continues: “And if you going to go for the gusto, why waste your one and only opportunity to be world champion on an insignificant PCW title belt.”

“Huh?” a confused Suave says, “what does he mean?” 

W. gets his trademark smirk on. 

“JFK.  I think you can do better than that.  In the spirit of my “no wrestler left behind” program, I’m giving you’re the chance of a lifetime.  You’re going to wrestle for the PWA world championship!” 

A heavy metal riff suddenly blares over the sound system and the place explodes. 

“HOLY CRAP!” shouts Johnny Suave, “THAT CAN’T BE WHO I THINK IT IS?”  

JFK looks confused as the enthused crowd starts to sing to the theme music, “WORK!  SWEAT!  PERSPIRE!  WORK-SWEAT-PERSPIRE!” 

“HE’S NOT REALLY HERE- IS HE?” Suave asks. 

The crowd goes nuts when two figures appear at the entrance. 

Suave gushes, “HOLY CRAP!  HE’S HERE!  HE’S HERE!  IT’S RON CLAUDE VAN DAMMIT.  RCVD IS HERE!” 

“WORK!  SWEAT!  PERSPIRE!  WORK-SWEAT-PERSPIRE!” chants the crowd as the six foot tall demolition machine in a short skirt Dawn McGill leads RCVD to the ring. 

JFK looks stunned when he gets his first good look at Van Dammit.  RCVD is cut, chiseled, and a complete physical specimen- a total wrestling machine.  Justin Sufferable and Chris Escondido quickly bail out of the ring and run right over to Johnny Suave’s broadcast position.  JFK is left all alone. 

“HE CAN’T WRESTLE HIM!” Sufferable complains as RCVD jumps into the ring.  “HE’S A REAL FAKE WRESTLER!” 

“RCVD is the hardest working guy in pro wrestling,” Suave gushes, “He is the ABSOLUTE FREAKIN’ SHOW!” 

Van Dammit warms up by doing leg splits and various martial art leaping kicks. 

JFK mouths “Oh…my…God” as the bell rings. 

MAIN EVENT: “The Absolute Whole Freakin’ Show” Ron-Claude Van Dammit with Dawn McGill vs. The Massachusetts Blueblood JFK RCVD defeats the Massachusetts Blueblood in fourteen seconds. 

JFK lies in pain on the floor and mumbles incoherently, “Aye…aye…aye…”

“THIS IS NOT RIGHT!” whines Chris Escondido, “IT’S A TRAVESTY!  A COMPLETE TRAVESTY!” 

A disgusted Justin Sufferable huffs: “YEAH!  MARK MY WORDS!  SOMEONE IS GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!”

[pcwpolwrestling]

2/26-Extreme Political TV: Changes in the PCW Press Room, PCW Workers Called Back to Work, 3 #1 Contender's Matches

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Marina Civic Center Panama City, Florida Taped Saturday February 22nd Wednesday February 25th, 2025

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) SNAFU (Independent) Magnum PO’d (Independent) PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) Barbie Q (The Vice Squad- Promoting Politically Incorrect Personal Choices) ***

PCW Tag Team Champions: The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer The SEC: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid

Opening PCW… PCW… PCW…

‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and his counterpart, ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Colleen Crowder stand in the center of the ring to a raucous crowd inside the Marina Civic Center.

Johnny Suave: Hello everyone!  And welcome to Political Championship Wrestling! 

PCW… PCW… PCW…

Johnny Suave: We are here on the Gulf Coast…

Suave smirks.

Johnny Suave: …the Gulf of America coast!

Colleen cringes, looks down, and shakes her head.

CUT TO OUTSIDE THE ARENA: Candy Sweetner- Low-Level AP Reporter who was kicked out of the arena last week for referring to the ‘Gulf of America’ as the ‘Gulf of Mexico.’ skulks outside. She raises her fist in the air.

Candy Sweetner: IT’S THE GULF OF MEXICO!

CUT TO INSIDE THE ARENA: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

GULF OF AMERICA (CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP) GULF OF AMERICA (CLAP CLAP CLAP-CLAP-CLAP)

Johnny Suave: …at the Marina Civic Center in Panama City, Florida! 

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Johnny Suave: I am the voice of PCW Johnny Suave!

He turns towards Colleen.

Johnny Suave: She’s ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter-

Colleen Crowder: All right, all right.  Everyone knows I’m Colleen Crowder.  Johnny, I’ve got a bone to pick tonight.

Johnny Suave: About what?

Colleen Crowder: You know what…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

(REPLAY: Last Week’s Show) –PCW Owner Dawn McGill kicks out Margaret Brennan of CBS and Candy Sweetner of the AP, joining the Guild of Low-Level Media’s Sharon Johns of CNN, Hallie Reed of MSNBC, and Doug Miles of the Washington Post outside the arena.

Colleen Crowder stands in the ring, microphone in hand, her green eyes blazing behind stylish glasses as she prepares to castigate the powers that be.

Colleen Crowder: What happened last week is unacceptable!  Absolute tyranny!

Her voice cuts through the din like a knife.

Colleen Crowder: Sharon, Hallie, Doug… exiled! A great reporter like Margaret Brennan of CBS and the AP’s Candy Sweetner… all silenced by the very institution that should be championing the freedom of press!

Her short-cropped auburn hair quivers with each emphatic gesture, her practical yet fashionable outfit a stark contrast to the wrestling pageantry around her. The crowd, feeding off her indignation, responds with a mix of boos and applause, their allegiances as divided as their political leanings.

Colleen turns to her co-announcer who stands smugly with a raised eyebrow next to her.

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, surely even you must see the injustice here?

Suave, ever the provocateur, leans into his mic, his voice oozing sarcasm.

Johnny Suave: Injustice? Or just a little spring cleaning in the press room?  Maybe it’s just time for fresh voices.

Colleen shakes her head, a look of disbelief on her face.

Colleen Crowder: You can’t be serious, Johnny. This isn’t about fresh voices, it’s about silencing dissent and taking away our rights.  It’s about usurping power from the press who sets the tone, determines the narrative, and tells the American People what they should think.

Before Colleen can continue, “Pomp and Circumstance” blares over the loudspeakers, heralding the arrival of the CEO of PCW’s spokeswoman.

Johnny Suave: It’s Karoline Leavitt!

Leavitt strides down the aisle with an air of self-assuredness that could rival any heavyweight champion, a clipboard clutched like a championship belt.

Colleen Crowder: Oh dear me.  What does she want?

Karoline Leavitt: HELLO, PCW Nation! 

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Karoline’s voice echoes through the arena, her declaration silencing the audience.

Karoline Leavitt: I’ve come out to announce to all of you that effective immediately, PCW is taking control of who enters our sacred PCW Press Room.

Colleen’s jaw clenches, her journalistic sensibilities affronted.

Karoline Leavitt: Legacy media credentials? Irrelevant!

Colleen steps forward, her voice rising over the murmurs of the crowd.

Colleen Crowder: This is censorship! You can’t just-

But Suave interrupts, his approval unmistakable.

Johnny Suave: Now that’s what I call taking the power back! Let the new era of journalism begin!

Colleen fumes, her convictions as unyielding as the steel ring posts.

Colleen Crowder: This isn’t over, Karoline. The truth will find a way.

Karoline smirks, glancing over her shoulder as she makes her way to the stage.

Karoline Leavitt: We’ll see about that, Colleen. Welcome to the new order.

The stage is set for a showdown not just of muscle and might, but of wit and words, all under the unforgiving lights of Political Championship Wrestling.

***

Johnny Suave leans into his microphone, the spotlight casting a dramatic shadow on his confident face.

Johnny Suave: All right.  Tonight, three epic showdowns tonight with not one, not two, but three number one contender’s matches! 

TONIGHT’S MATCHES: -#1 Contenders’ Match-Tag Team Division: The Green World Order-GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) vs. Wall Street World-Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

-#1 Contenders’ Match-Women’s Division: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) vs. ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

-#1 Contenders’ Match: Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) vs. SNAFU (I) vs. Magnum PO’d (I)

Colleen Crowder, her green eyes blazing behind her stylish glasses, nods in agreement but can’t shake off her earlier indignation. Before she can add her two cents, Suave cuts her off, his voice tinged with excitement.

Johnny Suave: But first, we’re going to show how we got to the three-way #1 contender’s match tonight.   There was a slight complication from Friday night’s house show in Houston.  Let’s see what happened.

(REPLAY: Houston, Texas House Show) The jumbotron flickers to life, revealing grainy footage of Neal Conn- making foreign policy as paramount responsiblity of government, seeing the need for the U.S. aacting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order, and ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels standing center-ring at the NRG Arena, their faces contorted with disdain.  

Behind Conn stands Conservative Inc.; behind Daniels stands Berkeley, California Professor McCarthy with his Flock.

The video zooms in on Daniels.

Kevin Daniels: Elon Musk has illegally created artificial rankings to determine who will challenge for PCW’s titles. 

They gesticulate furiously, decrying Trump and Musk’s DOGE ranking system. 

Kevin Daniels: These ‘rankings’ mean we have actually to win matches against wrestlers who have no business being in the same ring with us to get a title shot.  We’re not going to stand for it.

Johnny Suave: But then they took it to the extreme.

Back on the screen, chaos erupts as Conn and Daniels launch a preemptive assault on the three men… one of whom would have met Conn and Daniels tonight, unsuspecting opponents—Mike the Mechanic, SNAFU, and Magnum, PO’d. The crowd is a mixture of boos and cheers, shocked by the audacity of the unscheduled brawl.

Johnny Suave: Which resulted in this.

Then, there’s a sound of a chainsaw coming from the back followed by a wild cheer that erupts from the audience as Elon Musk himself dashes down the ramp. 

Johnny Suave: ELON MUSK! 

Musk is brandishing a chainsaw.

Johnny Suave: HE’S GOT A CHAINSAW! 

The weapon sends Conn and Daniels scrambling for safety, his presence alone enough to turn the tide.

Johnny Suave: Musk cut through the competition like DOGE through corporate waste!  And then…

Moments later, amid the still simmering chaos, the towering figure of Dawn McGill steps out, her blonde hair shimmering under the lights. She surveys the ring with her piercing blue eyes and makes a beeline for the microphone.

Johnny Suave: …PCW owner Dawn McGill came out to lay down the law.

Dawn McGill: Enough!

Her voice commands silence, her tall frame exuding authority.

Dawn McGill: Mike, SNAFU, Magnum… since these two think they’re too good to earn a chance at the PCW title… all three of YOU are now booked for the number one contender’s match Monday night on PCW Extreme Political TV!”

The crowd explodes with approval as Conn and Daniels, visible on the jumbotron again, seethe with rage, their entitlement checked by the no-nonsense PCW owner.

Johnny Suave: Order was restored thanks to Dawn McGill and maybe a little help from Musk and his… chainsaw diplomacy?

Crowder shakes her head, still processing the surreal turn of events.

Colleen Crowder: It’s not right that the Progressive Alliance’s top wrestler was prevented from wrestling for a title shot. 

Johnny Suave: He was not prevented.  He chose not to take part in the contender’s matches to determine a challenger.  His choice.

Colleen Crowder: It’s still not right.

Johnny Suave: And that doesn’t matter… either Mike the Mechanic, SNAFU, or Magnum PO’d will be facing Charlie Blackwell next week for the PCW title. 

***

Question of the Week:

WHAT DID YOU DO LAST WEEK?  PLEASE REPLY TO THIS EMAIL WITH 5 BULLET POINTS OF WHAT YOU ACCOMPLISHED LAST WEEK:

1. I worked 63 hours. 2. I drove 2600 miles. 3. I delivered 130,000 gallons of fuel. 4. Drove to Houston and Panama City for PCW House Shows 5. Worked out and trained in the gym whenever I could

–Ken Worth, American Trucker

***

Johnny Suave: Let’s go to Kimber Marshall in the ring for our first match of the night.

The crowd roars as Suave sends it straight to the ring, where Kimber Marshall stands ready to ignite the fuse for tonight’s explosive match-up. Her voice, rich with dramatic flair, echoes across the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen.   Our first match tonight is one fall and a PCW Tag Team number one contender’s match.  Introducing first…  

Kimber pauses, milking the moment, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Kimber Marshall: …and representing the almighty dollar and your capitalist cravings… Kirk Walstreit and P.M.C. Banks… they are WALL STREET USA! 

“Money” by Pink Floyd blares over the speakers, and out strut Kirk Walstreit and P.M.C. Banks, their arrogance palpable in the air. Each step they take is calculated, a testament to their belief in the power of wealth. Gordon Guyko, the epitome of corporate greed, leads his charges with a grin that could sell ice to Eskimos. They make their way down the aisle, indifferent to the jeers, eyes locked on the prize that awaits them in the squared circle.

Johnny Suave: Wall Street USA coming out and these guys buy and sell boo’s like penny stocks!

And then, in stark contrast, Kimber’s voice rises once more.

A gentle melody of nature sounds heralds the arrival of GreenPete and ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee. PeaceNick, a beacon of non-violence, chants serene mantras, attempting to soothe the savage beast of competition. Beside him, Peta from PETA hurls scathing critiques towards any carnivore in sight, her words sharper than a butcher’s knife.

Peta from PETA: Meat is murder!

Peta points accusatorily at a fan gnawing on a turkey leg, who shrugs off her condemnation with a greasy grin.

Johnny Suave: We have the classic clash of styles here tonight.  On one side, the cold hard cash of Wall Street, and on the other, the granola crunch of the Green World Order.

Colleen Crowder: Say what you will, Johnny, but at least the Green World Order stand for something more substantive than money… the GWO has conviction!

As the Green World Order approaches the ring, the atmosphere is an eclectic mix of boos, cheers, and the odd chant for world peace. The two factions stand in the ring, a financial analyst and a market manipulator eye-to-eye with eco-warriors, the tension so thick you could cut it with a recycled paper knife. 

Brock Cole Lee takes the microphone from Kimber.

Brock Cole Lee: PCW!  WE’RE CHANGING EVERYTHING! 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Johnny Suave: PCW fans, buckle up.  This is going to be one politically charged showdown, where the bottom line meets the tree line!

MATCH #1-#1 Contenders’ Match-Tag Team Division: The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) vs. Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks Johnny Suave: Chaos erupts in the ring as the bell sounds! It’s an all-out brawl!

Kirk Walstreit and P.M.C. Banks, the embodiment of Wall Street excess, make quick work of hurling GreenPete into the unforgiving steel barriers with a thunderous crash. The crowd’s excitement builds to a fever pitch as the financial fiends grab Brock Cole Lee, sending him flying into the timekeeper’s area amidst a scatter of papers and panic.

Johnny Suave: GreenPete is reeling. Walstreit is on the prowl!

Back in the ring, Walstreit sets his sights on GreenPete, who stumbles clumsily, still dazed. With predatory precision, Walstreit charges, ramming GreenPete into the turnbuckles before tagging in Banks. The two champions execute a perfectly synchronized double Russian leg sweep, followed by a crisp handshake and a devastating double elbow drop that shakes the ring.

Johnny Suave: Vintage Wall Street USA!

Colleen chimes in, her voice dripping with disdain for the corporate warriors.

Colleen Crowder: That’s just excessive force! 

Johnny Suave: Banks hoists GreenPete back to his feet… Walstreit tags back in.

Together, they send GreenPete airborne with a mighty double hip toss that resonates throughout the venue.

Johnny Suave: Walstreit and Banks are running roughshod over the Green World Order!

Walstreit and Banks set up for their next assault—a breathtaking standing moonsault leg drop combination. The impact echoes as Walstreit goes for the cover.

Johnny Suave: COVER!  One… two… 

GreenPete kicks out, barely keeping his eco-friendly dreams alive.

Johnny Suave: NO! 

Colleen Crowder: GreenPete shows some resilience, thankfully.

Walstreit, seething with frustration, stalks his green-clad prey. He grabs a fistful of GreenPete’s hair, tossing him carelessly across the ring until the referee steps in, admonishing Walstreit for his brutish tactics.

Colleen Crowder: Come on, ref! Typical Wall Street warrior.  They’re just playing dirty.

Colleen’s protests are lost as Walstreit runs in for another attack.

Johnny Suave: Walstreit in… GreenPete counters with a desperate kick to the leg.  Banks in… elbow strike to Banks by GreenPete.   

The referee blocks Banks, giving GreenPete a momentary advantage, but Walstreit swiftly retaliates with a vicious clothesline that sends GreenPete sprawling.

Johnny Suave: Looks like Wall Street’s stock is rising again!

Walstreit whips GreenPete towards the ropes. In a twist of fate, GreenPete reverses the momentum, and it’s Brock Cole Lee’s turn to play spoiler, tripping Walstreit and giving the Green World Order a glimmer of hope.

Colleen Crowder: Finally, the tables are turning!

Lee tags in, yanking Walstreit out of the ring with ferocity. He then propels Walstreit into the barriers with a sickening thud that reverberates throughout the arena.

Johnny Suave: Lee’s got a steel-folding chair…

*WHAP*

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! 

*WHAP*

The second chairshot leaves Walstreit dazed and in a sitting position on the floor. Lee and GreenPete exchange a knowing grin, standing tall amidst the chaos they’ve wrought.

Banks, fueled by both fury and finance, races around the ring and unleashes a brutal flurry of fists onto Lee. The crowd’s excitement crescendos as Banks then throws GreenPete over the barricade into the crowd.  Lee’s resilience shines through as he charges forward- only to have Banks drop toehold him face first into the barricade. 

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Banks rolls Walstreit back into the ring.  GreenPete crawls to the apron… pulls himself up… and then rolls back into the ring.

The moment’s ripe for change, and Banks seizes it with the hot tag that sets the ring ablaze. GreenPete tags Lee in as well. Banks, a whirlwind of Wall Street wiles, hits Lee with precision, a wrenching hook kick followed without pause by a slingshot bulldog that rattles the very foundations of the ring.

Johnny Suave: GreenPete’s trying to… nope! Mule kick by Banks!

Colleen Crowder: Of course Banks is in control; he’s fighting against the future of our planet!

Banks’ momentum builds, a scissor kick sends GreenPete retreating once more. Without missing a beat, Banks corners Lee, who desperately shoves him onto the apron. But Banks rebounds, ramming into Lee and launching back with a facebuster that nearly seals the deal.

Johnny Suave: ROLL UP!  One… two… NO! 

The two-count is thwarted by Lee’s tenacity.

Johnny Suave: Lee kicks out and he’s hanging on by a thread here, folks!

Colleen Crowder: Because the Green World Order fights for every breath of clean air, Johnny!

Banks ascends, soars across the ring with a crossbody, but Lee’s cunning shines as he rolls through, turning hope into desperation for Banks.

Johnny Suave: Lee’s survival instinct kicking in there!

Colleen Crowder: Instinct? More like a deep-rooted connection to Mother Earth.

It’s chaos incarnate as Walstreit hoists Lee into a torture rack, only for Lee to battle free and deliver snake eyes onto the announcer’s desk. Banks, ever the opportunist, launches a plancha that takes Lee down. Back in the ring, Banks prepares for an obliteration, but no! GreenPete intervenes with a victory roll, nearly stealing the win, a razor-thin two-count leaving everyone gasping.

Johnny Suave: Panama City is off the charts! This is pandemonium!

Colleen Crowder: Come on, GreenPete, show them what green power really means!

Banks narrowly dodges a desperate charge from GreenPete, hitting the rearview to assert dominance once more. But then, Peta from PETA leaps onto the apron, drawing Banks’ wrathful roundhouse.

Johnny Suave: Peta from PETA just got a taste of Wall Street boot leather!

Colleen Crowder: He hit a woman.  That’s despicable and should disqualify them!

As Banks climbs, seeking the high-risk glory, Lee anchors her leg, a devious act that sends Banks crashing into the post. He topples, and GreenPete crawls over, draping an arm across him.

Johnny Suave: ONE… TWO… THREE! GREENPETE AND LEE WIN!!

Kimber Marshall confirms the outcome with her resonant declaration.

Kimber Marshall: YOUR WINNER AND THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE PCW TAG TEAM TITLE… THE GREEN WORLD ORDER!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Colleen Crowder: Victory for the earth warriors!

The GWO celebrates in the ring.

Johnny Suave: Next week on PCW Extreme Political TV… the Green World Order will challenge PCW Tag Team Champions The MAGA-Powers… Starz N. Stripes and ‘The Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism for the title. 

The ring is still echoing with the sounds of combat as ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee snatches the mic from Kimber Marshall, his chest heaving with exertion. He locks eyes with the camera, a ferocity burning behind his gaze that could wilt the most robust arugula.

Brock Cole Lee: Starz N. Stripes… Stone Chism.  You two are nothing more than the byproducts of an unsustainable, gluttonous system!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

He paces back and forth like a caged animal advocating for its release into the wild.

Brock Cole Lee: The Green World Order isn’t just about winning titles; it’s about changing the narrative. We’re here to compost the decayed roots of your so-called ‘American Patriots’ and plant the seeds of progress!

Lee raises a fist, green veins popping under the spotlight.

Brock Cole Lee: We fight for the ideals of the Progressive Alliance—clean energy, sustainable living, and a world where every creature has a voice!

His nostrils flare as if smelling the pollution of his opponents’ ethos.

Brock Cole Lee: The MAGA-Powers have had their reign, but it ends now. This…

He gestures around the packed arena.

Brock Cole Lee: …is our battleground, and we will not rest until the PCW Tag Team Championships—and the world—are liberated from your grasp!

With that, Lee drops the mic, the sound thundering through the arena like a fallen tree in a forest. The GWO exit with militant precision, leaving a trail of contemplative murmurs and cheers in their wake.

Johnny Suave: There you go!  Brock Cole Lee making his intentions clear for everyone to see.

Colleen Crowder adjusts her stylish glasses, her voice tinged with a hint of bias as she interjects.

Colleen Crowder: Suave, let’s not forget that the Green World Order represents a vital movement in our society. It’s high time the PCW reflects the progressive spirit of our times.

The camera pans over the crowd, divided yet united in their anticipation, as the echoes of Lee’s words hang heavy in the air, promising a battle not just for gold, but for the very soul of the wrestling world.

Johnny Suave: We’ve got more action coming up right after these commercial messages.

***

Commercial Break: American Patriots Establishment The screen fades from the chaos of the ring to a slick, glossy commercial. One familiar figure to members of the American Patriots- Mitch McConnell along with the other American Patriots/Never Trumpers/country club American Patriots-lite set (Bill Kristol.  Charlie Sykes.  Jonah Goldberg. David French.  Tom Nichols.  David Reaboi.  Jennifer Rubin.  David Brooks, Ben Sasse, Mitt Romney, Rick Wilson, Adam Kinzinger, George Conway, Asa Hutchinson, Alyssa Farah, John Bolton, John Kasich, Mike Pence, and S.E. Cupp) 

They march down the street, armed with pamphlets and beaming smiles. They knock on doors, pitching the displaced American Patriots’ establishment return to glory with the fervor of evangelists.

The person at the door looks at the group apprehensively.

Person at the Door: Hello?

Someone whacks McConnell in the back to wake him up.

Mitch McConnell: Yes.  Hello.  It’s time to come home…to the Red Brand.

Person at the Door: Come home to the Red Brand?

Mitch McConnell: The American Patriots. 

Person at the Door: We have a PCW CEO now who is an American Patriot.

But as the person peppered them with questions on why Trump shouldn’t be given a chance to bring down inflation, restore safety progress, their confident expressions crumble. Their answers dissolve into vague platitudes and empty promises.

Person at the Door: Sorry.

SLAM! 

McConnell and the group continue to go door to door.  Doors slam in rapid succession, each thud echoing like a gavel of judgment.

SLAM!

Another Skeptic: Make me feel safe? How?

The door isn’t buying it. SLAM!

Then, a door swings open.   

The eyes of each member of the American Patriot Establishment/Never Trumpers/Country Club Set widen and their jaws drop.

Gracie McAvay: Advocating lower taxes without demanding reduced spending, laissez-faire regulations that favor corporations, health care and wages that again favor big business at the expense of ordinary workers. Big business trickle-down economic policies that also favor large employers and leave middle America behind and more half-assed promises to root out deep state bureaucrats and keep out activist judges who undermine legislate from the bench and thwart the will of the people…

McConnell and the others just stare back at the young girl.

Gracie McAvay: HOW DARE YOU?

SLAM!

Mitch McConnell: Maybe I should retire.

***

Commercial Break: Main Street Ultra Beer The screen fades in to reveal a dimly lit bar, the kind of place where political allegiances are checked at the door and where the universal languages of competition and cold beer unite everyone. Neon signs glow softly, casting colorful reflections on the polished wooden bar, and the low hum of conversation mingles with the clinking of glasses.

In strolls Ken Worth-American Trucker, his signature trucker’s hat on his head, exuding an air of casual confidence. Beside him is the ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith, both projecting an aura of laid-back coolness as they make their way to a pool table. There, a young, athletic couple is setting up the game, their smug smiles hinting at their certainty of victory. A bucket of Main Street USA Ultras sits nearby, its sleek silver cans glistening with droplets of condensation that glimmer under the dim lights.

Ken Worth: Hey, kids.  

Worth casually tosses a pickleball paddle from hand to hand.

Ken Worth: How about a little wager?

Smith leans nonchalantly against the table, her eyes scanning the couple with feigned indifference. The couple exchanges a glance, a blend of amusement and competitive spirit flickering in their eyes, and they nod in agreement, his eyebrow arching in challenge.

Young Woman: Are you sure?  We’re kinda good.

Sarah Mae Smith: Bring it on.

Young Man: Game on.

The scene shifts to the makeshift court outside the bar, where a pickleball net is strung up between two rusted-out pickups, their faded paint a testament to years gone by. The sense of underestimation hangs in the air as the couple serves with precision, confident in their impending victory. But then, with surprising agility, Worth and Smith spring into action.

They lob and smash with unexpected finesse, dismantling their opponents’ confidence with every point, like a poorly constructed wall crumbling under pressure. Point after point, the unlikely duo dominates until victory is theirs, along with the coveted bucket of Main Street USA Ultras that Worth hands out to the people inside the bar. 

Ken Worth: That was fun. 

Yet the hustle doesn’t end there. The commercial transitions into a montage: Worth and Smith, now emboldened with triumph, take on and decisively defeat Senator Chuck Schumer and Elizabeth Warren.

Chuck Schumer: You know we’re professional politicians, right?

*THWACK*

Their liberal strategies prove no match for Worth’s aggressive serve.

Next, Hakeem Jeffries and AOC try their hand, but their youthful energy and vigor are no match for Smith’s cunning drop shots, leaving them in the dust.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: That’s not fair!

Finally, Kamala Harris and Tim Walz stride onto the gleaming basketball court, setting the stage for a showdown that promises to be legendary.

Ken Worth: I smell Ultra.

The atmosphere is electric, charged with anticipation, and the spectators can almost taste the excitement in the air, as tangible as the frothy foam on a freshly poured Main Street USA Ultra. The game is a whirlwind of skill and agility, with Harris and Walz trading passes and moves with unparalleled precision. The crowd holds its breath in suspense, hanging on every bounce of the ball.

Then, Smith, with a sly grin, executes a masterful spin move so deceptive that it leaves Harris and Walz clutching at empty air, their eyes wide with surprise.

The ad reaches its crescendo with the iconic image of Worth and Smith, reclined in regal splendor atop an impressive throne constructed entirely from stacks of gleaming Main Street USA Ultra cans.  

Sarah Mae Smith: Play you for an Ultra?

Worth and Smith each hoist up a Main Street USA Ultra.  Crowns rest upon their heads, symbolizing their triumphant victory in this epic clash of titans, as the camera pans out to reveal the sparkling court beneath them, a testament to their prowess.

***

Question of the Week:

WHAT DID YOU DO LAST WEEK?  PLEASE REPLY TO THIS EMAIL WITH 5 BULLET POINTS OF WHAT YOU ACCOMPLISHED LAST WEEK:

1. Fed kitty 2. Fed goats 3. Fed and watered chickens 4. Let chickens run amok 5. Rounded up chickens and returned them to coop

–Farmer John Deer

***

Backstage-Kathryn Randall Collins Interview The camera shifts its focus to the bustling backstage area, where Johnny Suave stands poised with a microphone in hand. His suit is impeccably tailored, sharp lines accentuating his businesslike demeanor. The air buzzes with anticipation. Beside him looms the formidable figure of the Progressive Alliance’s Kathryn Randall Collins, her stance is as rigid as a well-structured debate, and her eyes are as sharp as daggers ready to strike

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I have the distinct pleasure of speaking with none other than ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’, Kathryn Randall Collins. Kathryn, you’re facing a formidable opponent in ‘The American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith. What can you tell us about your strategy for this high-stakes match?

Collins smirks, a confident glint in her eye, as she leans ever so slightly towards the microphone, her voice dripping with assuredness.

Kathryn Randall Collins (KRC): Johnny, let me put it this way: The ring is much like the political arena. It’s all about strategy, influence, and precise execution. While Sarah Mae is undoubtedly a strong competitor, she lacks the… nuanced understanding of exerting one’s will effectively to secure victory.

As the intensity in her voice crescendos, she steps closer, her tone becoming more deliberate, her words slicing through the air like a practiced orator.

KRC: Tonight, I intend to outclass her, not only in physical prowess but also in mental acuity. I will demonstrate that it is political expertise and a strategic mind that truly prevail in PCW.

Johnny Suave: Those are some powerful words from an equally powerful competitor! Thank you, Kathryn, for sharing your insights and determination with us tonight.

As the interview concludes, the camera lingers on Collins’ steely gaze, a silent promise of the battle yet to unfold in the ring.

***

Show Up at Work The camera glides dramatically over the dimly lit arena, capturing the pandemonium unleashed by PCW’s latest decree.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, we here at PCW have to admit that we’ve got a brewing controversy.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Cut to a sequence of video shots:

-an overzealous fan, dressed head-to-toe in neon spandex, performs an Olympic-level somersault past a bewildered security checkpoint, a flurry of rainbow streamers trailing in their wake while a laptop sits forlornly on a rickety folding table, its screen showing a digital referee avatar nodding with the calmness of a monk amidst chaos.

Voice from Laptop: Proceed with caution. 

The soothing voice, is ignored by the unfolding pandemonium below.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

-in the ring, two wrestlers engage in a wild brawl, their movements so exaggerated that one might wonder if they were choreographed by cartoon animators as they wrestle around a laptop sitting in the middle of the ring that’s adorned in black and white stripe referee’s shirt. 

Referee (through the laptop speakers): Okay… BREAK!

–the two wrestlers break and circle again. The action heats up and it goes okay for a while until one of the wrestlers body slams the other on top of the laptop.

Johnny Suave (doing play-by-play of the match): HOLY CRAP… the referee just got taken out…

Referee (through the laptop speakers): Ow.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

-a serpentine line of disgruntled spectators snakes its way around an eerily deserted concession stand. The air is thick with the aroma of stale popcorn and mystery meat hotdogs.

Grumbling Voice: Where’s the concession workers?

Another spectator clutches their stomach, which growls like an irate bear. The collective complaints and growling bellies forming a symphony louder than the frenzy in the ring.

Johnny Suave: That’s right…. working from home? Not in PCW! 

His voice is a perfect blend of mockery and revelation.

Johnny Suave: What you’re witnessing tonight, folks, is the aftermath of PCW owner Dawn McGill’s return-to-work edict. Let’s just say, there were more than a few people who weren’t happy about it.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

A montage unfurls:

-an irate wrestler, draped in a designer suit so flamboyant it could blind onlookers, stomps around with a scowl capable of melting steel beams. He bellows into the camera.

Irate Wrestler: Do you know what it’s like to leave behind my palatial home office? The mahogany desk! The leather chair! The espresso machine that knows my name!

He throws his hands up in exasperation, nearly knocking over a display of championship belts behind him.

-another wrestler, decked out in a glitter-covered ensemble with boots so unlaced they flop like fish, drags her feet across a terminal floor. She groans dramatically to the camera.

Another Wrestler: Oh, the indignity of commercial flights! The horror of sitting next to someone who insists on showing me their cat photos for eight hours straight!

She clutches her head.

Another Wrestler: And the jet lag! Oh, the soul-crushing, time-bending jet lag! I feel like I’ve been tossed into a cosmic spin cycle!

She collapses onto a nearby luggage cart, her arm draped over her forehead in an exaggerated display of despair.

-a female concessions worker appears on camera with laments.

Female Worker: What’s next?  Are we going to get an email telling us we have to account for all the time we work?

*DING*

She checks the email on her phone and gets a disgusted appearance on her face.

Female Worker: Son of a bitch!

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Johnny Suave: Travel? In-person work? Accounting for the work you do?  The audacity!

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, some might say that forcing workers back to work is a bit… harsh.

Johnny Suave: Really?  It may be harsh but it’s necessary.  And who better to enforce it than PCW’s own iron lady?

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

As if on cue, a spotlight illuminates the formidable figure of the iron lady, her presence commanding enough to silence the chaos, if only for a moment, before the arena erupts once more into a cacophony of absurdity.

Dawn McGill strides into the frame like a colossus emerging from the shadows, her six-foot stature casting an imposing silhouette that demands attention. Her steps echo thunderously on the polished floor as she pauses, her piercing blue eyes scanning the room with the intensity of a hawk surveying its territory. Finally, she locks her gaze onto the camera with a look that could freeze lava.

Dawn McGill: Hey!  PCW isn’t a game of virtual reality.  

Dawn’s voice is sharp enough to cut through steel and as unwavering as a mountain.

Dawn McGill: You want to stay part of this family, you show up where you need to be. No excuses. Not a single one. If you’re not here, you’re out there making excuses, and trust me, excuses won’t win you any titles.

Johnny Suave: See?

Suave’s smile as wide as a Cheshire cat’s, nodding so vigorously it looks like his head might just pop off.

Johnny Suave: Straight talk from the boss herself, folks! You can’t get this level of candor at your local supermarket!

Colleen’s eyebrow is raised so high it could touch the ceiling.  She adds with a touch of skepticism to her voice.

Colleen Crowder: What about empathy for the plight of the worker? After all, not everyone can be as omnipresent as Dawn McGill.

A district judge then confronts Dawn.

District Judge: I’m a district judge and I say-OOF!

Dawn kicks the judge in the balls.  Then she takes a side headlock and spikes him headfirst to the floor.

Johnny Suave: And not everyone can drop someone with a DDT like Dawn McGill can either.

As if on cue, a chorus of wrestling fans roars from somewhere off-screen, chanting “PCW! PCW!” with the fervor of a thousand fans at a rock concert. The camera zooms out dramatically and the screen fades to black.

***

Backstage: Sarah Mae Smith The scene shifts dramatically as Sarah Mae Smith strides confidently into the frame, her auburn hair blazing like a fiery beacon, mirroring the fervor in her eyes. Her presence electrifies the atmosphere, drawing all eyes toward her. Suave, with his trademark grin, turns to her, microphone poised and ready.

Johnny Suave: Sarah Mae, you’ve just heard what KRC had to say. Your response?” he inquires with a curious tilt of his head.

Sarah Mae’s face is a portrait of unyielding resolve, her jaw set with determination. She locks eyes with the camera, forging a direct connection with viewers at home.

Sarah Mae Smith: Johnny, I’ve heard it all before. The establishment thinks they can overlook us, the ordinary Americans. But I’m here to show them they’re wrong.

She pauses for a moment, rolling her shoulders back as if preparing for battle, her posture exuding a warrior’s readiness, her voice rising with passion.

Sarah Mae Smith: They think we don’t matter. But tonight, I’m fighting for every single person out there who’s had enough of being ignored. I’m going to win, not for myself, but for them!

Suave raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed by her fervent declaration.

Johnny Suave: There you have it, folks.

The anticipation in the arena builds, and the audience holds its breath, eagerly awaiting the explosive showdown.

***

The raucous energy of the PCW fans vibrates through the Marina Civic Centeras Kimber Marshall, with her trademark dramatic flair, takes center stage.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our number-one contender’s match for the PCW Women’s title!

She beams, the spotlight casting a glow on her excited features.

Kimber Marshall: Introducing first, representing Main Street USA… the heartland’s own ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith!

Johnny Suave: And here comes the pride of Main Street.

Sarah Mae steps out, flanked by her crew. Ken Worth’s trucker hat barely contains his wild hair, Mike the Mechanic’s oil-stained hands wave to the crowd, Farmer John Deer tips his straw hat, and Tequila Sheila raises a mock toast with an empty glass.

Colleen Crowder: Naïve tools. 

Sarah Mae walks down the aisle, slapping hands with the fans, her smile as bright as her wrestling gear. Her presence alone seems to uplift the atmosphere, embodying the spirit of hardworking Americans ready to take on any challenge.

As the applause for Sarah Mae settles, Kimber’s voice rings out once more.  

Kimber Marshall: And her opponent, accompanied by the leaders of the Progressive Alliance…

Colleen Crowder: Here we go! 

Colleen’s barely able to contain herself, an edge of anticipation in her voice.

Kimber Marshall: …she is ‘The Ultimate Political Operative,’ Kathryn Randall Collins!

Boos cascade from the rafters as KRC strides into view, her entourage in tow. The Progressive Alliance’s PCW leader Charles Robinson-Richards heads the procession to the ring, Blue State Esq.’s briefcase handcuffed to his wrist, while Professor McCarthy’s academic robes flutter behind him. Codee Pink waves a peace sign banner, Emily S. List clutches a clipboard like a shield, The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior flexes conspicuously, and LOAF #1 and #2 brandish their anti-fascist flags with defiance.

Johnny Suave: KRC looks as confident as ever.

Colleen Crowder: Confidence is key, Suave.  She is the rightful PCW Women’s champion and will show the so-called current champion Catherine Cline that after the disposes of the American Girl tonight.

A smirk is audible in her voice.

Colleen Crowder: KRC will show that strategy beats brawn any day.

The Progressive Alliance members absorb the boos, their reactions ranging from dismissive waves to challenging stares, as they circle the ring like a modern-day cadre of political gladiators.

KRC steps through the ropes with a grace that belies her combat readiness, her gaze fixed on Sarah Mae across the ring. The tension between them crackles like static in the charged air.

Johnny Suave: The winner faces PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline next week on PCW Extreme Political TV!

And with those words hanging in the air, the bell sounds, igniting the latest chapter in the storied rivalry between the pillars of Main Street USA and the Progressive Alliance.

MATCH #2-#1 Contenders’ Match-Women’s Division: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) vs. ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA) The crowd’s roar crescendos as Sarah Mae Smith and Kathryn Randall Collins grapple center-ring, their bodies a tangle of limbs and determination.

Johnny Suave: Sarah wrenches the arm and twists into a headlock.

With a fluid motion, takes Collins down to the canvas. She’s got the arm again, grinding it into the mat with calculated pressure, but Collins kicks out fiercely, sending Sarah stumbling back.

Johnny Suave: Sarah Mae showing that Main Street tenacity early on!

Colleen Crowder: Please, she practically tripped over her own feet.

Both competitors find solace in opposite corners, catching fleeting breaths. 

Johnny Suave: Sarah Mae charges from the corner like a bull. Collins goes up and over!

Collins rolls Smith in a surprise pin. One… Two… Sarah kicks out, then retaliates with a vengeance, stopping a flying-snapmare dead in its tracks to hurl Collins across the ring.

Johnny Suave: KRC better strategize fast if she wants to keep up with this kind of raw power.

Colleen Crowder: Strategy will prevail, Suave.

Collins, ever the tactician, bails out to regroup. Sarah’s hot on her heels, though, building speed for a high-flying dropkick—denied! Collins blocks, absorbing the impact with a wince. Sarah’s relentless, peppering KRC with kicks before hoisting her up onto the apron, aiming for a devastating maneuver.

Johnny Suave: Looks like Smith’s going for broke!

But Collins isn’t down yet; she battles back, delivering body shots that echo through the arena, then trips Sarah up with a cunning move.

Colleen Crowder: Ha! That’s the intelligence of The Ultimate Political Operative!

Colleen boasts, smirking at Suave’s raised eyebrow.

The fight escalates atop the turnbuckles, fists flying in a brutal exchange. Fans are on their feet, every blow punctuated by their unified chants. Collins gains the upper hand, trapping Sarah in a Tree of Woe. Yet from this precarious position, Sarah fights back, her spirit unbroken, unleashing a barrage of kicks from below.

Johnny Suave: Never count out The American Girl!

Sarah frees herself, scaling the ropes once more.

Colleen Crowder: Collins has her exactly where she wants her.

Sarah locks in, nails a gut-wrenching stalling superplex. Both warriors crash down, bodies wracked with pain. They rise, exchanging forearms that crackle through the charged air. Sarah hits a sobat, a knee, but Collins ducks the next attack and retaliates with a scorpion kick that echoes off the walls.

Colleen Crowder: Brilliant counter by KRC!

Sarah sunset flips out of a fireman’s carry.

Johnny Suave: But Smith’s not done!

The referee counts. One… Two…

Johnny Suave: Collins reverses the pin attempt.

One… Two!

Johnny Suave: NO!  Smith kicks out.

The crowd is electric, every near-fall pulling them to the edge of their seats.

Johnny Suave: Who will seize the moment? Who will become the number-one contender?

Collins and Smith, locked in combat, seem intent on answering that question with every ounce of fight they possess.

Johnny Suave: Collins is on the edge! She’s setting up Smith, looking for big air here!

With a surge of agility that belies her size, Sarah Mae sidesteps Kathryn Randall Collins’ aerial assault and retaliates with a ferocity that sends shockwaves through the arena. Collins crashes hard into the turnbuckles, her momentum arrested by cold steel.

Colleen Crowder: She got lucky there but KRC isn’t out yet. 

Collins staggers to her feet and hits a desperation drop toehold that sends Smith facefirst to the mat.

Johnny Suave: Now… Collins is climbing! She’s got Smith right where she wants her!

But Smith again jumps back to her feet and SHE climbs the ropes.  The two warriors teeter on the top rope, exchanging punishing body shots, but Sarah Mae refuses to be toppled. With a grunt of effort, she slips under Collins, her arms wrapping around her opponent in a fireman’s carry.

*BOOM*

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!  NO WAY! AMERICAN DRIVER from the top!

The impact reverberates throughout the arena.

Johnny Suave: Smith hooks the leg!

Colleen Crowder: GET UP! 

The referee slides into position, hand slapping the canvas once, twice, thrice.  The crowd pops.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Johnny Suave: Smith wins! Smith wins!

Kimber rolls back into the ring.

Kimber Marshall: Your winner and NEW Women’s Division number one contender… ‘The American Girl’… SARAH MAE SMITH! 

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Johnny Suave: Sarah Mae Smith has done it!

Colleen sits in stunned silence, her dream to win the PCW Women’s title dealt a massive blow.

But Smith’s victory is short-lived as KRC, Codee Pink, Emily S. List, and the LOAF duo swarm the ring, their collective outrage fueling a vicious attack on Smith.

Johnny Suave: HERE WE GO! 

It’s chaos incarnate, a maelstrom of bodies clashing in a display of raw emotion.

Johnny Suave: Professor McCarthy has sicced his Flock into the ring to shout down Sarah Mae Smith! 

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Johnny Suave: Here comes Main Street USA!

Ken Worth, Mike the Mechanic, and Farmer John Deer rush to Smith’s aid, throwing themselves into the fray with abandon.

The crowd’s roar reaches a fever pitch when…

Johnny Suave: HERE COMES CATHERINE CLINE!

PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline bursts onto the scene, a whirlwind of determination set to defend her future challenger.

Johnny Suave: Cline throws KRC out of the ring.  Now she boots Codee Pink in the gut… and there goes Pink out of the ring! 

Colleen Crowder: Aw, come on! 

With precision and power, Cline dispatches the last female Progressive Alliance attacker-Emily S. List.  She sends List tumbling out of the ring like a ragdoll in a tornado.

Johnny Suave: Next week, it’s Cline versus Smith for the PCW Women’s Title! If tonight is any indication, we’re in for an all-out war!

***

Question of the Week:

WHAT DID YOU DO LAST WEEK?  PLEASE REPLY TO THIS EMAIL WITH 5 BULLET POINTS OF WHAT YOU ACCOMPLISHED LAST WEEK:

1. Converted to the new TPS cover sheets. 2. Cleaned a fish at my workstation. 3. Returned a red Swingline stapler to its owner. 4. Helped my new girlfriend organize her flair. 5. Assisted with the rapid unplanned disassembly of a printer.

— Peter Gibbons, disgruntled programmer at Initech

***

Commercial Break: Trump Derangement Syndrome The screen fades from the chaos of the ring to a slick, glossy commercial.

***

WHAT DID YOU DO LAST WEEK?  PLEASE REPLY TO THIS EMAIL WITH 5 BULLET POINTS OF WHAT YOU ACCOMPLISHED LAST WEEK:

1. Planned pro wrestling television show 2. Attended and produced/directed pro wrestling television show and two PCW house shows 3. Took care of office work and paid the bills and paid down debts. 4. Did media work and talked with media outlets hyping PCW. 5. Didn’t whine and cry like a little bitch about writing down five things I did at work the previous week.

— Dawn McGill, PCW Owner

***

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Johnny Suave: Okay.  It is now time for tonight’s main event… a three-way dance, PCW Title number one contender’s match.  Let’s send it out to Kimber Marshall in the ring.

MAIN EVENT: Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) vs. SNAFU (I) vs. Magnum PO’d (I) The Marina Civic Center is a cauldron of chaos tonight, and Kimber Marshall fuels the flames with her signature, sultry voice.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s main event will be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

Kimber Marshall: …and it will be a three-way dance, #1 contender’s match for the PCW title.  Introducing first, representing Main Street USA and accompanied by the always fiery cocktail waitress Tequila Sheila… he is Mike the Mechanic!

The crowd roars as Mike strides out, a blue-collar brawler flanked by Tequila Sheila, whose presence sends a clear message: this match will be incendiary.

Kimber Marshall: His opponent, accompanied by Coach E.J. Flack… SNAFU!

Coach Flack, exuding a blend of motivational speeches and sideline antics, pumps his fists.

Coach E.J. Flack: Forget rowing the boat.  You have to… NARFLE THE GARTHOK! Flack bursts onto the scene with military precision and a glint of madness in his eyes.

Kimber Marshall: And finally, the man with the mustache thicker than political intrigue, Magnum PO’d, and the alluring Robyn Masters!

The crowd erupts for the private investigator, a mix of tropical shirt and testosterone, his valet’s smoldering gaze promising intrigue of a different kind.

Johnny Suave: Are you ready for an EXTREME three-way dance?!

Suave hypes the impending carnage as Colleen simmers beside him, still fuming about recent press ejections.

Johnny Suave: This is PCW at its finest!

The bell clangs like a shot fired in the war of attrition.

Johnny Suave: Here we go!

SNAFU blitzes across the ring, GreenPete a running knee that crashes into Mike in the corner. He heaves him up, muscles bulging, and slams him down with a powerslam. The count begins, but Magnum interrupts with a save, pulling SNAFU off with a hot shot that snaps back his foe’s neck.

Johnny Suave: Magnum with the save!

Colleen Crowder: Typical diversion from the real issues.

Colleen’s words are as sharp as barbed wire with the media’s recent treatment in her craw.

Mike recovers, charging like a bull, and connects with a running crotch attack to Magnum’s back. The audience gasps, the impact visceral and raw. But Mike’s triumph is short-lived as Magnum escapes his chinlock grasp and rolls out of the ring, seeking refuge.

Johnny Suave: Mike’s on fire, but he’s gotta keep his head in the game!

Colleen Crowder: Journalistic integrity is being thrown out like yesterday’s news.  We’re the gatekeepers dammit.

Mike isn’t finished; he pursues Magnum outside, the two men blurring the lines between wrestling and bare-knuckle street fighting. With a grunt of effort, Mike rams Magnum headfirst into the announcers’ table, wood splintering beneath the strain.

Suave winces, dodging the debris.

Johnny Suave: That’s going to leave a mark.  

Colleen continues to vent.

Colleen Crowder: Not as much as free press getting the boot!

And the crowd chants in unison, “PCW!… PCW!… PCW!”

Mike, with a grunt of effort, hoists Magnum onto the announcers’ table. The wood creaks ominously beneath the weight. Before Mike can capitalize, E.J. Flack, ever the opportunist, trips him up from behind. Mike crashes down, joining Magnum on the precarious surface.

Colleen Crowder: Flack playing dirty as always. 

SNAFU, seizing the moment, unfolds a chair and sets it like a launchpad. He sprints, bounces off the ropes, and catapults himself off the chair, soaring through the air.

Johnny Suave: Air SNAFU on the wayyyyyyyyy…

The impact is catastrophic—the table shatters, and the two men are engulfed in splinters and chaos.

Johnny Suave: …HOLY CRAP!

Suave’s voice hits a fever pitch, echoing the crowd’s chant of “PCW!… PCW!… PCW!”

SNAFU, fueled by adrenaline, drags Mike’s limp body back to the ring, hooking a leg for the cover. The referee counts—one… two… but no! Mike defiantly thrusts a shoulder skyward.

Johnny Suave: NO!  MIKE THE MECHANIC GETS A SHOULDER UP!  

Colleen Crowder: Resilience is as absent in politics as it is here.

Flack’s mouth gapes in disbelief, his plans thwarted. But his shock turns to agony as Tequila Sheila creeps up and gives him a savage kick to his groin. Down goes Flack, clutching his treasured assets.

Johnny Suave: Tequila Sheila serving up shots. 

The ring becomes a war zone, a PCW trademark brawl erupting.

Johnny Suave: SNAFU has a chair! 

SNAFU swings THE chair with barbaric intent, striking Mike across the back. The thud resonates throughout the arena.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Magnum, recovering, rolls back into the fray, only to catch Mike with a devastating corner clothesline. The tide turns again as Tequila Sheila brandishes jumper cables, crackling with electricity. Magnum, sensing danger, narrowly evades her shocking advance.

Johnny Suave: Close call for Magnum. 

Robyn Masters leaps at the chance to attack, but her assault backfires—jumper cables snap, and she convulses from the electrifying blow dealt by her own hands.

Johnny Suave: Electrifying indeed!  

SNAFU capitalizes, lifting Mike high for a powerbomb that sends tremors through the ring. Not satisfied, he then dropkicks Magnum through the ropes, sending him tumbling to the floor where Tequila Sheila lies in wait to deliver a zapping retribution.

ZAP

Johnny Suave: Now it’s Magnum’s getting a taste of high voltage.

Back in the ring, SNAFU plants Mike with a DDT, driving his head into the mat.

Johnny Suave: SNAFU FOR THE WIN!

The referee slides into position—another count, one… two… but still, Mike will not be kept down.

Johnny Suave: NO!  Mike showing the tenacity of a Main Street fighter!

A chair clatters against the canvas as Coach E.J. Flack, his face twisted with competitive fervor, slides it to SNAFU. The crowd’s energy pulses through the air, an electric current of anticipation.

Johnny Suave: Flack slides in a chair to SNAFU.  Looks like we’re about to see some good old-fashioned American innovation!

SNAFU, grinning with the confidence of a man on a mission, runs and leaps, placing the chair under him and landing surfboard-style onto Mike, who lies prone, face up on the mat.

Johnny Suave: American Facebuster! 

The referee drops to the mat, arm swinging in rhythm with the chants: “One… Two… THREE!” The final count sends the saloon into a frenzy, the bell sealing SNAFU’s victory. His arm is thrust upward by the referee, a conquering hero among the chaos.

Johnny Suave: SNAFU has done it!

Colleen mutters something about excessive force and unnecessary theatrics.

Flack snatches a microphone from ringside, his voice piercing through the aftermath.

Coach E.J. Flack: My name is E.J. Flack.  I am here tonight to help this young tag team learn how to-

NARFLE THE GARTHOK!

Coach E.J. Flack: That’s right.  I am not here to change tradition.  I am not here to pursue an agenda other than the fact that I want SNAFU to become the best professional wrestler he can be.  I am here in PCW because it’s a challenge and E.J. Flack eats challenges for breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snacks, or general grazing.  SNAFU has had to learn how to eat different situations.  He’s had to learn how not to back down from tasks that appear impossible.  He’s had to learn that the only way to succeed is to out-care, out-give, and out-how everyone else here in PCW.  He’s had to learn to-

NARFLE THE GARTHOK!

E.J. Flack: Sometimes in life, you have to face the big monster thingy.  Sometimes in life, you have to take on something that’s bigger than you even if its huge tusks can shred you to bits in seconds…even if its jagged teeth can tear through you like a hot knife through warm butter. Sometimes when you’re climbing life’s mountain and come up against insurmountable odds, you have to…

NARFLE THE GARTHOK!

Coach E.J. Flack: SNAFU will climb the ranks, he’ll earn that PCW title match, and he’ll do it the most American way possible- by outworking, outfighting, and outlasting anyone in his path by…!

NARFLE THE GARTHOK!

Flack drops the mic and exits with SNAFU.

‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave stands poised, microphone in hand, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a knife.

Johnny Suave: What a night we’ve had! But hold onto your hats because in two weeks, SNAFU—who just snatched victory from the jaws of defeat- will go head-to-head with Charlie Blackwell for the PCW Title!

The mention of SNAFU elicits a thunderous cheer, a wave of excitement washing over the red, blue, and American Heartland Coalition sections alike. They know what’s coming: a showdown that promises to be as much about ideology as it is about athletic prowess.

Johnny Suave: Next week, the MAGA-Powers will put their tag titles on the line against The Green World Order! Can you feel the electricity!”

A mix of boos and cheers erupts, the very air charged with anticipation for the clash of two polarized factions.  Suave lets the noise swell before he raises his hand, bringing a momentary calm.

Johnny Suave: Also next week, ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith will challenge the ‘Iowa Wunderkind’ Catherine Cline for the PCW Women’s title!

The crowd becomes unglued, a raw explosion of emotion for the heartland heroine who has captured their imaginations. Sarah Mae Smith, the embodiment of Main Street values, versus Catherine Cline, the prodigious new talent with an edge sharp enough to cut through any hype.

Johnny Suave: Will the ‘American Girl’ bring the title back to Main Street USA, or will the ‘Wunderkind’ prove she’s more than just a flash in the pan? Join us next week at the titular home of PCW to witness history in the making. Because when PCW rolls into town, you know we’re going to bring the house down! I’m Johnny Suave, and until next time… keep fighting the good fight!

[pcwpolwrestling]

2/19-Extreme Political TV: The MAGA-Powers vs. The Green World Order for the PCW Tag Team Titles

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Resch Expo Center  Green Bay, Wisconsin Taped Saturday February 15th, 2025 Wednesday February 19th, 2025

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) SNAFU (Independent) Magnum PO’d (Independent) PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024

Opening PCW… PCW… PCW…

Johnny Suave and a disgruntled Colleen Crowder stand in the center of the ring.

Johnny Suave: Hello and welcome to the Resch Expo Center in Green Bay, Wisconsin for tonight’s edition of PCW Extreme Political TV! 

PCW… PCW… PCW…

Johnny Suave: I am Johnny Suave.  She is-

Colleen snaps at Johnny.

Colleen Crowder: Save it, Johnny.

Suave smiles and looks away.

Johnny Suave: If you’re wondering why Colleen is not happy tonight, here’s the reason why.

(REPLAY: Last Week’s Show) The raucous crowd inside the O’Neill Center buzzes with anticipation, their voices merging into a cacophonous symphony of political fervor. The red sections, donned in American Patriot gear, clash against the blue waves of the Progressive Alliance, each side vying to drown out the other.

PCW CEO Donald Trump, his suit as crisp as his signature scowl, slams another executive order onto a table with a flourish. He looks up, directly into the camera, face glowing with self-satisfaction…

Donald Trump: Tonight, we continue to make PCW great again.  I’ve decided to shake things up. The Guild of Low-Level Reporters- out! Sharon Johns-CNN, Hallie Reed-MSNBC, Doug Miles-Washington Post, and Colleen Crowder-New York Times… we’re replacing them with fresh voices and with fair voices!

He rattles off names like a roster.

Donald Trump: New York Post, Breitbart, the Washington Examiner, the Free Press, the Daily Caller, Newsmax, the Huffington Post, and One America News Network…

The video ends.

Johnny Suave: And this was the scene outside the arena tonight.

Cut to: outside the arena.

First off, it’s cold- Arctic blast. 

Shivering against the biting cold, Sharon Johns stamps her feet to keep warm. Hallie Reed’s breath forms frosty clouds as she speaks, and Doug Miles’ hands are balled up in his pockets for lack of a better source of heat. They huddle like penguins outside the DC Armory, a trio of journalistic castaways barred from the fiery political wrestling spectacle within.

Back inside the ring:

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, this is a travesty. 

Colleen’s eyes flash with anger behind her glasses.

Colleen Crowder: It’s censorship, plain and simple.

Johnny Suave: You didn’t seem to have much problem with that when it was the other side who were being censored.

Colleen Crowder: That’s different.

Johnny Suave: How?

Colleen Crowder: They were spreading misinformation.

Johnny Suave: In your opinion.  Other opinions state the opposite.

Colleen Crowder: That’s why we are important.  We need to tell the people what the real truth is.

Johnny Suave: That’s a debatable-

Inside the arena, the crowd roars, a cacophony of raw energy that spills out into the night. Suave’s brow furrows, and he raises his voice over the din.

Johnny Suave: Wait a minute.  That’s ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels from the Progressive Alliance.  They continue to be all up in arms about Trump and DOGE pulling the strings to reform PCW.

Daniels storms into the ring, his snobby demeanor replaced by a seething rage. With no regard for decorum or the chill, he hurls Suave into the nearest corner, his glare as cold as the air around them.

Kevin Daniels: Enough of this bull!  

Daniels points a manicured finger at Suave’s chest.

Kevin Daniels: You wanna sell that crap? I’ll break you like a bad habit.

Suave holds his hands up defensively.

Johnny Suave: Whoa, whoa, hold up!

Kevin Daniels: We’ll see what Donald Trump says when I break your *BLEEP*-ing neck.

Heavy metal music blares and the clash escalates as ‘The Extreme Equalizer’ Whiskey Tango Foxtrot makes an entrance, barreling down the ramp with the force of a freight train.  

Colleen decides to beat a hasty retreat and gets out of the ring.

WTF towers over Daniels, the two men locking eyes—a showdown of epic proportions teased in the frigid night.

Kevin Daniels: Back off, WTF; this ain’t your fight!

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: The hell it ain’t.

Daniels shoves WTF back.  WTF starts forward but other wrestlers spill out from backstage and get in between the two.

The group manage to pull WTF back.  Unfortunately, Daniels grabs onto one wrestler… one ‘American Tax Payer’ Mitch Thomas as he tries to slip away unnoticed, but Daniels was quick to spot the desertion. In a flash, he snatches Thomas from behind and delivers a devastating Hollywood Blockbuster right in the ring. Thomas crumples, his body limp, the impact resonating with a sickening thud.

Daniels walks over to pull him back up.  But…

Johnny Suave: Stop, Kevin! You’re gonna kill him!

Suave’s voice cracks with desperation as he shoves back the seething Progressive Alliance titan. But Daniels, his eyes wild with fury and contempt, is beyond reason. He grabs Suave by the collar, muscles bulging, and hurls him into the corner like a ragdoll.

“PCW! PCW! PCW!” chants ripple through the arena, a frenzied mantra for chaos.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot re-emerges, his massive frame casting an imposing shadow over the ring. He lunges at Daniels, hand closing around his throat. But before WTF can exact his revenge, GreenPete, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, and Peta from PETA… The Green World Order… storm the ring in a blur of eco-warrior rage while PeaceNick protests from ringside, his words lost amidst the roar of the crowd.

PeaceNick: Violence is not the answer!

Lee pulls out a taser, its electric hum cutting through the noise, and jabs it into WTF’s side. WTF’s giant body convulses as the GWO pounces. A three-on-one beatdown ensues, each member tearing into the Equalizer with calculated brutality.

“DOGE Warriors! DOGE Warriors!” The chant builds as the DOGE Warriors Big Balls, Tech-Man, and Tech-Girl sprint down the aisle to the ring, their arrival igniting a spark within the crowd that explodes into a deafening pop. The DOGE Warriors stand opposite the GWO, the tension between them crackling like static in the air.

Without warning, Daniels barrels into Big Balls, toppling him to the mat as Lee and GreenPete set upon Tech-Man. Meanwhile, on the outside, Tech-Girl and Peta from PETA are entangled in a vicious catfight, clawing and scratching without mercy.

The crowd senses something special brewing as Big Balls recovers, charging back into the fray like a man possessed. He blasts both GreenPete and Lee, scattering them like bowling pins. Seizing the moment, Tech-Man clambers up onto Big Balls’ broad shoulders, defiantly challenging the GWO to a chicken fight of epic proportions.

“Chicken fight! Chicken fight!” chants the crowd as GreenPete climbs atop Brock Cole Lee’s shoulders in response. An electric anticipation vibrates through the air.

And then it happens: With a daring leap, Tech-Man soars from Big Balls’ shoulders, twisting through the air to execute a flawless hurricanrana that sends GreenPete crashing off of Lee.

The crowd erupts, their cheers rising to the rafters of the Resch Expo Center, “PCW! PCW! PCW!” The chant becomes a battle cry, the anthem of a new era of political satire and wrestling mayhem, echoing off the walls.

Peta from PETA delivers a treacherous low blow to Big Balls, who crumples like a felled oak. At the same time, ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels clocks Tech-Man with a vicious right hook that echoes through the arena.

Johnny Suave: Betrayal! Deceit! The Green World Order plays dirty politics!

Suave’s voice crackles over the television broadcast as he’s finally reached the broadcast table, his tone dripping with outrage and excitement.

As Big Balls writhes in agony, the entryway explodes.

Johnny Suave: IT’S THE MAGA-POWERS! 

The arrival of The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and Stone Chism, their entrance music blaring with patriotic fervor as the crowd jumps to its feet. 

The American flag-waving duo hits the ring like a pair of bald eagles on a mission, their eyes set on the opposition.

Johnny Suave: Here come the reinforcements!

Colleen Crowder: Ugh.

Starz N. Stripes trades blows with GreenPete, their fists flying like missiles in a political warzone.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE.  ‘The Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism and ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels are having a staredown.

Chism zeroes in on Daniels, their longstanding feud igniting anew with each thunderous punch. The two rivals are locked in a grudge match, fueled by deep-seated animosity and the cheers of the divided masses.

Johnny Suave: HERE WE GO!

In a swift motion, Lee sends Starz hurtling into Big Balls; their bodies collide and spill outside the ring in a heap of star-spangled carnage. Not to be outdone, GreenPete hurls Tech-Man over the top rope, sending him crashing to the floor with a thud that resonates like a gavel in Congress.

Johnny Suave: THEY’VE GOT TECH-GIRL!  LEE AND GREENPETE HAVE TECH-GIRL!

Colleen Crowder: Good.  That’ll teach them to root through our government records with impunity.

Lee and GreenPete then lift Tech-Girl high above their heads before driving her down with a devastating double-team powerbomb that shakes the mat.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The GWO and Daniels then swiftly retreat, sensing the tide turning against them, Starz N. Stripes and Stone Chism storm back into the squared circle, their every move resonating with the spirit of defiance and determination. 

Stone Chism demands a microphone and ring announcer Kimber Marshall obliges.

Stone Chism: Kevin Daniels… I’ll deal with you later.  Hey GWO!  Elon Musk may not have been ‘elected’ but guess what… neither were the people who were actually running PCW into the ground the past four years in the place of the animatronic CEO of PCW Joe Biden.  You want to lose to us again.  Let’s do it tonight… right here… in Green Bay, Wisconsin… for the PCW Tag Team Title!

“PCW! PCW! PCW!” The chant rises again, a chorus of unity amidst the tumultuous landscape of Political Championship Wrestling.

Johnny Suave: Tonight on Extreme Political TV.  The MAGA-Powers will defend the PCW Tag Team title against The Green World Order. 

Colleen Crowder: The MAGA-Powers are letting their emotions get the best of them. This is the perfect time for GreenPete and ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee to win the title belts for the Progressive Alliance.

Johnny Suave: We’ll be back with more after this.

***

Commercial Break: Progressive Alliance The screen fades from the chaos of the ring to a slick, glossy commercial. Two familiar figures to members of the Progressive Alliance – Hakeem Jeffries and Chuck Schumer – march down the street, armed with pamphlets and beaming smiles. They knock on doors, pitching the Progressive Alliance’s return to glory with the fervor of evangelists.

Hakeem Jeffries: Hello, we’re here to offer you a golden opportunity. 

The person at the door looks at him apprehensively.

Person at the Door: Golden opportunity?

Chuck Schumer: Yes.  It’s time to come home…to the Blue Brand.

Person at the Door:: Come home to the Blue Brand?

Chuck Schumer: The Progressive Alliance.

Hakeem Jeffries: That’s right.  The Progressive Alliance is all about the little guy and is the perfect place for you to be. 

Chuck Schumer: That’s right. Come back home to the Progressive Alliance. 

Schumer’s voice oozes with political charm.

Hakeem Jeffries: Let us show you our vision for a stronger, safer America. 

Jeffries extends a hand that the person doesn’t shake.

But as the person peppered them with questions on inflation, safety, progress, their confident expressions crumble. Their answers dissolve into vague platitudes and empty promises.

Person at the Door: Sorry.

SLAM! 

Schumer and Jeffries continue to go door to door.  Doors slam in rapid succession, each thud echoing like a gavel of judgment.

Off-Screen Voice: Can you tell me exactly how?

Chuck Schumer: Uhh, well, it’s complicated…

The door doesn’t wait. SLAM!

Another Skeptic: Make me feel safe? How?

Hakeem Jeffries: Ah, yes, safety is our top priority.

The door isn’t buying it. SLAM!

Gracie McAvay

Gracie McAvay: Big government trickle down, economic mandates versus doing the hard work to formulate concrete long term solutions and promoting policies that create organic growth.

Chuck Schumer: Well hello… aren’t you cute-

Gracie McAvay: Political correctness… deep state bureaucrats and activist judges undermining the will of the people…

Hakeem Jeffries: I think that’s a little overstated.

Gracie McAvay: …and maintaining the status quo for the Washington D.C. beltway elites to continue to prosper while middle America withers on the vine like they have for the past 25 years?

Both Schumer and Jeffries stare back at the young girl.

Gracie McAvay: HOW DARE YOU?

SLAM!

Schumer and Jeffries exchange glances.

Hakeem Jeffries: It’s okay.  It’s still early in Trump’s reign.

***

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Colleen has that ‘annoyed’ expression on her face.

Colleen Crowder: Really… someone needs to remind little Miss McAvay that little children should be seen and not heard.

Johnny Suave: Especially if they’re not pushing the narrative you want to be pushed.

Colleen Crowder: Why can’t she be more like Sheryl Crow?  She sold her Tesla and gave the money to NPR to protest Elon Musk.  That’s something to stand up for.

Johnny Suave: Musk still has her money though, so… whatever… bravo. Let’s go to the ring.

The ring now hosts ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith, her presence alone uniting the divided arena. Her auburn hair shimmers under the lights as she takes the microphone, her voice ringing clear and true.

Sarah Mae Smith: PCW belongs to the people!

Johnny Suave: Ah… Sarah Mae Smith rallying the crowd with a little Main Street passion.

Sarah Mae Smith: It’s time we take back what’s ours!

As she speaks, Soccer Mom, strides out with ‘New Age Sensitive Guy’ Brandon Thomas-Taylor at her side. Soccer Mom, clad in her athletic kit and that ‘I want to speak to your manager’ look, exudes suburban smugness.

Soccer Mom interrupts, her voice shrill and piercing.

Soccer Mom: Enough talk!

Johnny Suave: Oh look, we’ve got a Karen coming to the ring.

Colleen Crowder: That is so uncalled for.

Soccer Mom: Let’s settle this in the ring, right now!

Johnny Suave: All right.  They’re going to settle this in the ring… whatever this is.

***

MATCH #1: ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA) vs. Soccer Mom (Progressive Alliance) The referee slides in, signaling for the bell. Sarah Mae and Soccer Mom circle each other, locked in a dance of destiny, while Suave’s booming voice fills the Saloon.

Johnny Suave: Here we go, folks! This one’s gonna be wilder than a Black Friday sale at a soccer equipment store!

Colleen Crowder: Sarah Mae may think she has the heart of Main Street, but don’t underestimate the craftiness or the passion of the Progressive Alliance’s very own Soccer Mom.

The bell rings, and the two women clash in the center of the ring, embodying the struggle between two Americas. Sarah Mae’s moves are fluid, like justice flowing through the veins of PCW, while Soccer Mom’s tactics are as calculated as a political campaign.

Johnny Suave: Sarah Mae with a lightning-quick arm drag, sending Soccer Mom reeling!

Colleen Crowder: Sure, she got the jump on Soccer Mom but don’t you worry… Soccer Mom will rebound. She’s got more tricks up her sleeve.  

In the stands, the red, blue, and Heartland sections roar with every strike, every grapple, every high-flying maneuver.

Sarah Mae Smith, the embodiment of Main Street USA, channels the spirit of American wrestling legends. She grips Soccer Mom with a tenacity that’s all heartland grit, executing not one, not two, but three consecutive suplexes—the revered Three Amigos. The crowd erupts as she pops up and performs a little jig, her feet light on the canvas, a stark contrast to the weighty matters outside the ropes.

Johnny Suave: Look at Sarah Mae dance. She’s got this crowd eating out of the palm of her hand!

Colleen Crowder: Please, Johnny, it’s just a little boogie-

Colleen’s words are cut short by the drama unfolding in the ring.

Johnny Suave: Wait a minute.  What is he doing in there?

“New Age Sensitive Guy” Brandon Thomas-Taylor slides into the scene, his concern for fair play written across his face in the most sensitive way ever.

Brandon Thomas-Taylor: Sarah Mae, please!

Brandon begs, his voice quivering with theatrical urgency.

Brandon Thomas-Taylor: That’s my wife! Take it easy on her!

Suave rolls his eyes.

Johnny Suave: Oh come on! This isn’t a tea party!

As Sarah Mae hesitates, her attention snagged by Brandon’s plea, Soccer Mom seizes the moment. With a political strategist’s cunning, she blindsides Sarah Mae, chopping her down from behind.

Johnny Suave: SNEAK ATTACK BY SOCCER MOM!

Colleen Crowder: Ha! That’s progressive strategy for you.

Johnny Suave: Soccer Mom scales the turnbuckles. 

Soccer Mom is ready to leap into the hearts and minds of the undecided. She launches herself into a frog splash, but Sarah Mae is two steps ahead- knees up!

Johnny Suave: Denied!

Soccer Mom crashes onto the defensive barricade of Sarah Mae’s raised legs.

Colleen Crowder: An unfortunate, temporary setback.

Wasting no time, Sarah Mae charges towards the apron where Brandon stands, still pleading for moderation. With a dropkick that sends a clear message, she ejects him to the floor.

Johnny Suave: Goodbye Brandon Thomas-Taylor!

Suave revels in the chaotic symphony of PCW.

Colleen Crowder: Unnecessary roughness! She didn’t have to do that!

Johnny Suave: Sarah Mae on the apron now.  Soccer Mom is down and trying to get back to her feet.  What does the American Girl have in mind?

What she has in mind is springing over the top rope, sailing through the air with a no-hands plancha that defies gravity.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! 

The crowd is on its feet, chants of “PCW” building like a patriotic crescendo.

Johnny Suave: American Girl flies with freedom’s wings!

Colleen Crowder: Stop being so jingoistic, Johnny.  That was flighty and reckless…

The rest of her words are drowned out by the roar of approval from the throng of spectators.

Back in the ring, Sarah Mae capitalizes, rolling Soccer Mom up tight.

Johnny Suave: COVER!

The referee slides into position, hand slapping the mat—one, two, three!

Johnny Suave: Victory for Main Street USA! Sarah Mae Smith, folks, she’s as real as it gets!

Colleen Crowder: Sure, she won, but let’s not forget the real issues here. 

Johnny Suave: And what would that be, Colleen?

Colleen sputters and finally replies.

Colleen Crowder: The fact that my Guild colleagues are barred from this building from doing their job.

Johnny Suave: Speaking of that… there’s been some activity out there.  Let’s check it out.

Cut to outside the Resch Expo Center…

The Guild Continues to Protest… The Guild of Low-Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves: Sharon Johns-CNN, Bill Smithers-Fox News, Hallie Reed-MSNBC, and Doug Miles -Washington Post are joined by Candy Sweetner- Low-Level AP Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself.��

Sharon Johns: Why are you out there?

Candy Sweetner: I asked when PCW was going to do a show in a town near the Gulf of Mexico. 

All: Ohhhhhhhhhh.

***

The crowd’s roar still echoes through the arena as we cut back to the broadcast table where ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave is shuffling his notes, a sly grin on his face.

Johnny Suave: Okay.  In less than two weeks, we’re about to throw down one helluva celebration.  On Saturday, March 1st …mark it down! PCW will be coming home to Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon for our 20th Anniversary supershow!”

The crowd pops, the noise swelling like a tidal wave of pure wrestling mania.

Suave continues, riding the crest of the crowd’s energy.

Johnny Suave: That’s right.  We’re kicking it old school, folks! We’re going to replay the very first PCW show from back in 2005 on Saturday March 1st, and then-

He pauses for full dramatic effect. 

Johnny Suave: The matches that will take place at the March 1st show at Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon will hit your screens on March 5th and 12th on PCW Extreme Political TV!  Every single title is on the line! Can you feel it, PCW Universe? History will be made!

As Suave hyperventilates excitement, he turns to Colleen at the broadcast desk. 

Johnny Suave: Anything to say on that, Colleen?

Colleen twirls her finger in the air.

Colleen Crowder: Yay

Backstage The scene abruptly shifts backstage. CNN’s Kaitlin Collins strides with purpose toward Donald Trump’s spokeswoman Karoline Leavitt.  She’s not here to play nice; she’s here for answers. Her tone is sharp as a tack

Kaitlin Collins: Karoline, was the low-level AP reporter trying to make a name for herself really thrown out for calling the Gulf of Mexico the ‘Gulf of Mexico’? That’s what it’s called!

Leavitt, unfazed by the confrontation, replies with a smirk, but before she can spin her response…

We cut ahead five minutes.

Now, Collins stands outside, shivering alongside her peers from The Guild of Low-Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves.

Kaitlin Collins: Unbelievable.

She mutters something else while huffing into her hands for warmth. Sharon Johns from CNN nods in agreement, while Bill Smithers of Fox News and Hallie Reed of MSNBC exchange incredulous looks.

Collins, a fire igniting behind those frost-nipped cheeks, turns to the camera with righteous indignation.

Katilin Collins: I don’t think that was called for.  

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Colleen just shakes her head.

Johnny Suave: All right folks. We’ll be back after these commercial messages.  Stay tuned.

***

Commercial Break: John Fetterman’s Wearhouse Commercial The camera pans across a warehouse filled with racks of identical hooded sweatshirts and basketball shorts. John Fetterman, towering at 6’8″ and sporting his signature bald head and goatee, stands center frame in a black hoodie and cargo shorts.

Fetterman grins at the camera.

John Fetterman: Most men think it makes more sense to rent a tuxedo than to buy one for formal occasions… but not me.

He gestures expansively at the sea of casual wear behind him.

John Fetterman: Welcome to John Fetterman’s Wearhouse, where comfort meets class.

He grabs a measuring tape and approaches a customer,.

John Fetterman: Everyone needs a good hoodie. Or ten.

As he measures, Fetterman continues his pitch.

John Fetterman: You can wear these clothes over and over again. They’re durable, versatile, and most importantly- comfortable.

A customer walks in and Fetterman’s eyes light up.

John Fetterman: Perfect timing! Let’s get you fitted.

He bustles over to the customer, measuring tape at the ready. The customer looks around, confused but too polite to object as Fetterman measures the inseam.

John Fetterman: Now, these outfits are 100% fitted to you perfectly and cost little in these inflationary times.

The customer nods slowly, still unsure.

Customer: Well, I reckon that’s important. Times are tough.

Fetterman beams, handing John a set of shorts and a hoodie.

John Fetterman: Try these on. You’ll feel like you’re wearing a cloud.

The customer hesitantly takes the clothes to a changing room.

Fetterman just smiles.

John Fetterman: In politics and fashion, never underestimate the power of comfort.

The changing room curtain swishes open, revealing the customer decked out in Fetterman’s signature hoodie and shorts combo. He steps out, tugging at the unfamiliar attire, a mix of confusion and unexpected comfort on his face, rotating his shoulders.

Customer:  Well, I’ll be. It’s like wearing a field of cotton.

Fetterman beams, clapping him on the back.

John Fetterman: See? Comfort meets practicality!

A stream of satisfied customers flows past, all sporting various shades of hoodies and shorts. They high-five Fetterman as they exit, grinning from ear to ear.

John Fetterman: The best thing about it is you know exactly who wore it last.”

But before Fetterman can elaborate further, a booming voice cuts through the air. It’s Johnny Suave, PCW’s play-by-play announcer, suddenly appearing in frame.

Johnny Suave: John Fetterman’s Wearhouse! Where comfort meets… whatever this is!

The commercial fades to black…

***

Commercial Break-Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky A package of Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky is superimposed on the front seat of the car Lauren Boebert is driving.

Lauren is driving down the highway in a safe and legal manner while chewing on a piece of Jeff Spinks’ Beef Jerky when a BMW suddenly appears in the background.  The car approaches Lauren at a high rate of speed and within seconds it is right on her tailgate. 

She spits out the jerky and checks her rearview mirror.  The man in the BMW flashes his lights several times and continues to ride her rear bumper.  He suddenly swerves left and passes Lauren, flipping her off as he passes.  Then the man swerves right causing Lauren to hit the brakes to avoid a collision.  The BMW then takes off.

Lauren Boebert: Son of a…

Lauren grits her teeth and hits a button on the console of the car.  Suddenly, a digital display pops up on the dashboard and a cruise missile launcher rises up from the hood of her car. 

She punches in a few numbers into the computer. 

Lauren Boebert: Take this…

She hits the ‘fire’ button.

The cruise missile takes off and flies towards its target. 

The a-hole in the BMW glances at his rearview mirror and is horrified to see a cruise missile bearing down on him.

A-Hole: Oh shhhhh-

Lauren watches the car explode in a spectacular blast that sends car parts in all directions for several hundred feet.

Final scene: a package of Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky superimposed over what’s left of the car which burns in the middle of the highway surrounded by various parts and pieces of the shattered body of the car.

Announcer: Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky.  Feed your irrationally foolish side.

***

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Johnny Suave: All right… we are back and let’s go to our next match. 

MATCH #2: Matthew and Brady Tkachuk and J.T. Miller (USA) vs. Brandon Hagel, Sam Bennett, and Colton Paranko (Canada)

Johnny Suave: Whoops… sorry about that.  That was the start of the USA-Canada hockey game.  Our bad.

USA… USA… USA…

Colleen Crowder: Oh stop it already!

Johnny Suave: Come on!  They’re just cheering on the United States!   

Female Voice: She’s right.

CBS’s Margaret Brennan appears at the desk.

Margaret Brennan: This type of free speech is dangerous.

Colleen Crowder: Exactly.

Suave looks at both women incredulously.

Johnny Suave: How?

Margaret Brennan: You do know that free speech was ‘weaponized’ by the Nazis to conduct the Holocaust.

Suave’s jaw drops.

Five minutes later…

Now it’s Brennan who stands outside the arena, shivering alongside Kaitlin Collins and her peers from The Guild of Low-Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves.

***

Pulp Fiction Videos The screen flickers, grainy footage rolling like a throwback to guerrilla broadcasting days. A stark image of J.D. Vance fills the frame, the Munich landscape behind him—a silhouette against the backdrop of democracy’s uncertain horizon. His voice cuts through the charged atmosphere of the arena, urgent and raw.

J.D. Vance: Europe is increasingly acting like the ‘bad guys’ in the Cold War as it turns towards censorship and fails to uphold democracy…

A murmur ripples through the crowd, some nodding in agreement, others with brows furrowed in contemplation.

J.D. Vance: …the European elite about subversion by Russia and China, actually the greatest threat to the continent is “the threat from within.

The camera zooms out, revealing an audience listening and absorbing his message.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

A sterile conference room for the first ‘DOGE’ meeting in session. Marjorie Taylor Greene stands center stage, her presence commanding as she rallies the call for leaner governance. Tim Burchett and Eric Burleson flank her, united in their vision to root out fiscal excess.

Their fiery oratory is a stark contrast to the Progressive Alliance’s rebuttal—Jasmine Crockett, Greg Cesar, and Robert Garcia, embattled as they lash out against DOGE, branding Elon Musk as the villain in their narrative.

“Find the waste! Cut the spending!” The chant echoes from the American Patriots, as vehement boos and hisses emanate from the Progressive corner—a cacophony of political dissonance.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Jamie Raskin’s face now looms large, his accusation sharp as a knife’s edge.

Jamie Raskin: The American Patriots are corrupt, and Elon Musk is their agent.

His voice tinged with scorn. Maxwell Frost follows suit, his fervent decree punctuating the air.

Maxwell Frost: Trump must cease the entire DOGE operation!

The energy spikes, a palpable tension seizing the throng of onlookers.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Back to Vance, his list unraveling before the masses—a litany of freedoms under siege. An annulled election in Romania, the specter of social media censors prowling in the shadows, the iron grip suffocating public prayer.

J.D. Vance: Shocking to American ears. If American democracy can survive 10 years of Greta Thunberg’s scolding, you guys can survive a few months of Elon Musk.

The crowd is stunned into silence, the shockwaves of Vance’s revelations reverberating through the Munich.  Eyes widened.  Whispers cascade into a wave of hushed disbelief, a shared moment of reckoning with the fragility of liberty.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The screen flickers with the gritty texture that bleeds raw energy. The camera zooms into the bustling frenzy of another DOGE meeting where the American Patriots, led by Marjorie Taylor Greene, Tim Burchett, and Eric Burleson, are all business, their fervor undimmed as they passionately discuss streamlining the government beast.

Marjorie Taylor Greene: Cut the fat! Trim the waste!

Greene’s voice echoes through the room like a battle cry, her zeal contagious among her fellow conservatives.

Across the table, the Progressive Alliance’s Jasmine Crockett, Greg Cesar, and Robert Garcia seethe, their faces twisted in rage. They hurl accusations at DOGE and Elon Musk, their words sharp as daggers, slicing through the air with indignation.

Robert Garcia: DOGE is nothing but a billionaire’s plaything! Musk has no right-

Garcia sputters before the video abruptly cuts.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Flash-cut to Michigan AG Dana Nessel, standing stern in front of an American flag backdrop, her ire obvious for everyone to see.

Dana Nessel: Musk’s crusade across departments—he’s visited how many now? Eighteen, nineteen? It’s a mockery of our government!

Her finger jabs the air for emphasis.

Dana Nessel: It’s illegal. Unconstitutional. And we demand it ends, now!

The video jumps again, landing on Judge Tanya Chutkan whose calm demeanor stands in stark contrast. Her ruling resonates with authority.

Judge Tanya Chutkan: DOGE will continue its work. The states have not proved that harm is imminent. The motion is denied.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Back to Munich and JD Vance.   

J.D. Vance: In Britain and across Europe free speech, I fear, is in retreat. In America, there’s a new sheriff in town.  Donald Trump is back, and free speech will reign supreme under his watch. Just as the Biden administration seemed desperate to silence people for speaking their minds, so the Trump administration will do precisely the opposite and I hope we can work together on that.

A hush blankets the room, broken only by sporadic claps- a few hands colliding in reluctant admiration.  Eyes bugged out… mouth’s dropped.  Vance’s eyes scan the tepid audience.

 SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The camera flickers, the grainy footage revealing an austere conference room. The Progressive Alliance huddle around a long table, their faces etched with concern and frustration. There’s an air of solemnity, a stark contrast to the raucous energy that characterizes PCW events. No American Patriots in sight, no media circus—just closed-door deliberations echoed in silent gestures and furrowed brows.

On the screen, Jasmine Crockett slams her fist down, papers fluttering like startled birds.

Jasmine Crockett: Where are they?  We’re here but they aren’t.

Greg Cesar shakes his head, muttering something lost to the vacuum of their echo chamber. Robert Garcia leafs through documents, searching for something, anything, to combat the DOGE initiative.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Suddenly, the scene shifts—a cut so sharp it’s almost physical. Now, we’re in another room, where the American Patriots are gathered. Here, the atmosphere is charged, electric even without the presence of an audience. Marjorie Taylor Greene stands at the helm, passion burning in her eyes as she lays out strategy like a general before battle. Burchett nods along, his agreement silent but resolute. Burleson leans in, scribbling notes with the intensity of a man on a mission as the video segment ends.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

But the political punditry quickly gives way to personal vendetta as Colleen Crowder stands abruptly, knocking her headset askew.

Colleen Crowder: This… this… farce, this mockery of journalistic integrity- I won’t stand for it! I’m going to Dawn McGill’s office, and I’m going to make things right!  The Guild… Kaitlin Collins… and Margaret Brennan should all be allowed to be in the building.

Johnny Suave: Good luck with that.

There’s a knowing smirk on his lips as he watches Colleen storm off.

The camera tracks Colleen’s determined stride, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm against the floor as she navigates the labyrinthine backstage. Wrestlers and staff part like a sea before her resolve until she arrives at the door marked ‘Dawn McGill.’

Without hesitation, Colleen barges in, the door slamming shut behind her with a resounding thud that echoes through the hallway.

Johnny Suave: Stay tuned.  We’ll be right back after these messages.

The screen fades to commercial.

***

Commercial Break: Real American Beer The ground trembles as a thunderous explosion rocks the air. The acrid smell of smoke fills Johnny Suave’s nostrils as he grips his microphone tighter, his voice booming with unbridled enthusiasm, his eyes wide with excitement.

Johnny Suave: Are you ready for some REAL AMERICAN BEER?

The camera pans across a scene of beautiful chaos. An American Jeep bursts from the belly of a transport helicopter, crushing smaller vehicles beneath its massive tires. At the wheel sits PCW champion Charlie Blackwell, his 6’4″ frame barely contained by the driver’s seat.

Charlie’s mind races. This is his moment. Time to show these coastal elites what a real Texan can do.

With a practiced motion, Charlie cracks open a Bud Light. Foam erupts from the can, spraying in all directions like a geyser of patriotism. The cool liquid hits his throat as he takes a long swig, savoring the taste of victory.

“BUD LIGHT- *BLEEP* YEAH!” A chorus of voices rings out, punctuating the mayhem.

Suddenly, ‘The American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith emerges from the settling dust, her auburn hair whipping in the wind. Beside her stands PCW Women’s champion Catherine Cline, both wielding Army-issue automatic weapons with deadly precision.

Sarah Mae’s heart pounds. This is more than just a commercial; it’s a battle for the soul of America. She shouts, her voice carrying the weight of her Midwestern roots.

Sarah Mae Smith: Bud Light – for the heartland heroes!

Bullets whiz past as Sarah Mae and Catherine engage in a fierce firefight against unseen foes. The staccato of gunfire mixes with the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal.

Catherine’s eyes narrow as she takes aim. She’s fought hard for her championship, and she’ll be damned if she lets anyone take it from her now.

Sarah Mae ducks behind a burned-out car, her mind racing. This is their chance to make things right.

Sarah Mae Smith: We’re reclaiming this beer for Main Street USA!

As if in response, the chorus swells once more: “BUD LIGHT- *BLEEP* YEAH!”

Johnny Suave: Bud Light – now with 200% more FREEDOM!

Stone Chism, the ‘Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’, emerges from the smoke, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He locks eyes with his tag team partner, Starz N. Stripes, and they nod in unison. This is their moment to shine, to show these Hollywood elites what real American strength looks like.

“Let’s show ’em how we do it in the heartland, partner,” Starz drawls, his Iowa accent thick with pride.

They stride towards two massive kegs of Bud Light, each easily weighing hundreds of pounds. Stone flexes his biceps, thinking, ‘This’ll put those sissy craft beers to shame.’

With a grunt, they hoist the kegs overhead as if they were made of styrofoam. Beer sloshes out, raining down on them like liquid gold. The crowd goes wild, their cheers drowning out the gunfire.

“BUD LIGHT- *BLEEP* YEAH!” The singers’ voices reach a fever pitch.

Suddenly, a shadow passes overhead. Stone looks up, his heart swelling with patriotic fervor. A formation of majestic bald eagles soars across the sky, their wings spread wide against the backdrop of chaos.

‘Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,’ Charlie Blackwell thinks, wiping foam from his mouth as he steps out of his battered Jeep.

The air crackles with anticipation as fireworks explode overhead, spelling out “BUD LIGHT” in bold red, white, and blue letters. The spectacle is so bright it nearly blinds Sarah Mae, but she can’t look away.

In perfect synchronization, Charlie, Sarah Mae, Starz, and Stone face the camera. Their eyes gleam with the fire of true American spirit as they shout in unison:

“BUD LIGHT – *BLEEP* YEAH!”

The words echo across the battlefield, a rallying cry for the heartland, a middle finger to the coastal elites. As the commercial fades to black, the wrestlers stand tall, champions not just of the ring, but of the American way of life.

***

Commercial Break: American Patriots Establishment The screen fades from the chaos of the ring to a slick, glossy commercial. One familiar figure to members of the American Patriots- Mitch McConnell along with the other American Patriots/Never Trumpers/country club American Patriots-lite set (Bill Kristol.  Charlie Sykes.  Jonah Goldberg. David French.  Tom Nichols.  David Reaboi.  Jennifer Rubin.  David Brooks, Ben Sasse, Mitt Romney, Rick Wilson, Adam Kinzinger, George Conway, Asa Hutchinson, Alyssa Farah, John Bolton, John Kasich, Mike Pence, and S.E. Cupp) 

They march down the street, armed with pamphlets and beaming smiles. They knock on doors, pitching the displaced American Patriots’ establishment return to glory with the fervor of evangelists.

The person at the door looks at the group apprehensively.

Person at the Door: Hello?

Someone whacks McConnell in the back to wake him up.

Mitch McConnell: Yes.  Hello.  It’s time to come home…to the Red Brand.

Person at the Door: Come home to the Red Brand?

Mitch McConnell: The American Patriots. 

Person at the Door: We have a PCW CEO now who is an American Patriot.

But as the person peppered them with questions on why Trump shouldn’t be given a chance to bring down inflation, restore safety progress, their confident expressions crumble. Their answers dissolve into vague platitudes and empty promises.

Person at the Door: Sorry.

SLAM! 

McConnell and the group continue to go door to door.  Doors slam in rapid succession, each thud echoing like a gavel of judgment.

SLAM!

Another Skeptic: Make me feel safe? How?

The door isn’t buying it. SLAM!

The eyes of each member of the American Patriot Establishment/Never Trumpers/Country Club Set widen and their jaws drop.

Mitch McConnell: Oh shoot.

Gracie McAvay: Advocating lower taxes without demanding reduced spending, laissez faire regulations that favor corporations, health care and wages that again favor big business at the expense of ordinary workers. Big business trickle-down economic policies that also favor large employers and leave middle America behind and more half-assed promises to root out deep state bureaucrats and keep out activist judges who undermine legislate from the bench and thwart the will of the people…

McConnell and the others just stare back at the young girl.

Gracie McAvay: HOW DARE YOU?

SLAM!

***

Outside the Arena Cutting back to the arena, the cold night air bites at Colleen Crowder’s cheeks, her breath visible as she stands in solidarity with the ousted Guild. Her green eyes flash behind stylish glasses, a silent vow to not let this slight go unchallenged. Kaitlin Collins and Margaret Brennan exchange knowing glances—a mix of irritation and resolve simmering just below the surface.

The scene shifts back inside.

Johnny Suave: Looks like it’s a chilly reception all around tonight, folks.   

The crowd buzzes with anticipation.

 Johnny Suave: Let’s get back to the action! It’s time for tonight’s main event!

MAIN EVENT-PCW TAG TEAM TITLE: The MAGA-Powers (Starz N. Stripes and ‘The Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism) © vs. The Green World Order (GreenPete and ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee)

Kimber Marshall steps into the spotlight.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen… tonight’s main event will be one fall and it’s for the PCW Tag Team Title! 

Towering and statuesque, her voice booms across Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon, injecting electricity into the atmosphere as she introduces the Green World Order.

Kimber Marshall: Making their way to the ring, accompanied by PeaceNick and Peta from PETA- the purveyors of eco-justice- GreenPete and ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, the Green World Order!

The GWO emerges, PeaceNick’s passive protests outside the ring clashing with the aggressive strides of GreenPete and Lee. The crowd’s response is mixed, some cheering for their environmental ethos, others booing at their methods.

Kimber Marshall: AND NOW! Your PCW Tag Team Champions, the embodiment of American grit and the Anti-Hollywood elite—Starz N. Stripes and ‘The Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism!  THE MAGA-POWERS!

The audience erupts, half standing ovation, half uproarious cheers, as the champions storm down the aisle, their belts gleaming under the lights. Starz N. Stripes, the powerhouse draped in the stars and stripes, exudes an aura of unwavering patriotism, while Stone Chism, with his anti-Hollywood swagger, nods to his fans, ready to defend their title against the eco-warriors of the ring.

Johnny Suave: Tonight’s main event promises to be a clash of ideals, a battle for the soul of PCW.

The GWO and the MAGA-Powers stare each other down, the ring ropes quivering with the intensity of what’s to come.

The bell’s reverberation hangs in the air of the DC Armory, but before a single wrestling lock can be engaged, the raucous sounds of dissent thunder down the aisle.

Johnny Suave: IT’S PROFESSOR McCARTHY AND HIS FLOCK!

Professor McCarthy, flanked by his motley crew of Flock members- Codee Pink with her pink bandana wrapped tightly around her forehead, Emily S. List clutching her clipboard like a shield, and The Legion of Anti-Fascists, Ted and Chaz, donning dark attire and stern expressions- charge into the arena with The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior leading the charge, his cape billowing behind him like a flag of defiance.

Professor McCarthy: SHOUT THEM ALL DOWN!

The crowd’s jeers crescendo as the Green World Order springs into action, blindsiding Starz N. Stripes and ‘The Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’ Stone Chism.

Johnny Suave: HERE WE GO!

In the ring, it’s an all-out melee- the MAGA-Powers are swarmed, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers as the Flock and GWO converge on them with a frenzy of kicks and punches. Starz is trapped in the corner, absorbing the brunt of Brock Cole Lee’s relentless assault, while Stone Chism fends off GreenPete’s grappling with grim determination.

Johnny Suave: HOLD ON! 

But then, the atmosphere shifts, charged with a new energy as the unmistakable roar of the DOGE Warriors fills the arena. Big Balls bulldozes his way down the ramp, Tech-Man and Tech-Girl sprinting at his sides.

They’re followed by the stalwarts of Main Street USA (Ken Worth-The American Trucker, Farmer John Deer, Mike the Mechanic, and Sarah Mae Smith) and The Deplorables (PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell, ‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay and ‘Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan)- a cavalry of righteous fury.

Blackwell’s eyes blaze with intensity, McAvay swings his signature Big Bertha driver like a mace, and Bryan thunders alongside them, ready to dole out some heartland justice.

Ken Worth revs up the crowd, Farmer John Deer barrels forward with rural might, and Mike the Mechanic brandishes a hefty wrench. Sarah Mae Smith’s battle cry pierces through the noise, her auburn hair streaming behind her like a battle standard.

The ring becomes a battleground, bodies flying as each strike is delivered with the weight of conviction. Tech Girl and Sarah Mae spot Peta from PETA trying to slink away, but they give chase, leaping over the barricade in hot pursuit, their determined strides carrying them up the steps and into the back.

“PCW… PCW… PCW…” chants echo as the Deplorables, DOGE Warriors, and Main Street USA dismantle the opposition one by one. The tide turns, the MAGA-Powers finding their footing amidst the chaos, now bolstered by their reinforcements.

Johnny Suave: We’ve run out of time.  Thanks for joining us. We will see you next week.

The camera pans across the sea of fans, their faces alight with adrenaline-fueled joy as they continue their chant.

[pcwpolwrestling]

2/12-PCW Extreme Political TV-Executive Actions/USAID/FEMA/PCW Women's Title Match

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV O’Neill Center Danbury, Connecticut Taped Saturday February 8th, 2025 Wednesday February 12th, 2025

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) SNAFU (Independent) PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024

Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA) Sierra Whalen (Independent)

PCW Tag Team Champions: The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots)

Contenders: The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

Opening/Charlie Blackwell Promo The raucous energy of the O’Neill Center crackles through the air as Suave, dapper in his sharp suit and slicked-back hair, stands center-ring, microphone in hand. His voice rings out, clear and commanding.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV! Tonight, we’re coming to you from the O’Neill Center in Danbury, Connecticut!  Tonight’s a big night.  ‘The Iowa Wunderkind’ Catherine Cline defends the PCW Women’s Title against ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’ Kathryn Randall Collins!  Also in action tonight… PCW champion Charlie Blackwell and-

Before Johnny can hype up the crowd any further, a gritty guitar riff blares over the loudspeakers.

Johnny Suave: Hold on… I think we’ve got company.

The music signals the arrival of none other than the PCW champion himself, Charlie Blackwell.

Johnny Suave: It’s CHARLIE BLACKWELL!

Proudly representing the American Heartland Coalition, the Texan strides down the aisle, his worn denim and leather boots thudding against the metal ramp, a picture of rugged defiance.

He slides under the ropes and snatches a mic, his belt buckle gleaming under the spotlight like a declaration of war. With a scowl etched deep into his weathered features, he turns to address the masses, his drawl dripping with derision.

Charlie Blackwell: I’m just about done with the Progressive Alliance.

Blackwell spitsg out the words.

Charlie Blackwell: I’m done with you guys.  You had your chance.   You’ve had the reins for most of the last two decades. And what have you done? Squandered our cash on special interest groups instead of doing your job.  Ask the folks in North Carolina, eastern Tennessee, and Virginia how they feel knowing the billions of dollars you sent elsewhere instead of helping them rebuild from Hurricane Helene.  No, y’all piled on the debt… you more than tripled it in just seventeen years!

The crowd’s booing melds with cheers; the sides are drawn as red and blue factions face off in the stands, while the American Heartland Coalition members press closer to the ring, hanging on every word.

Charlie continues, relentless,

Charlie Blackwell: You had their shot, and now, folks, it’s time we try something new.  

He paces the ring like a caged animal, ready to pounce.

Charlie Blackwell: I’ve had enough of the Progressive Alliance! Enough of their empty promises, their backroom deals… their irresponsible stewardship of our tax dollars! And now, y’all are upset about guys like Donald Trump, like Elon Musk… because they’re doing what you should have been doing.  That’s right.  They’re shaking things up, doing what these career politicians never could. And you know what?” He jabs a finger toward the ceiling, as if pointing out the so-called elites. “You don’t like it one bit. Well, tough!” His voice rises above the din, a clarion call to the disgruntled. “It’s not ‘our fault’ that the Progressive Alliance went off the deep end, sold their souls to the likes of Professor McCarthy, ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels, and Kathryn Randall Collins.  It’s not ‘our fault’ that the Progressive Alliance has become a bunch of flat track, school-yard bullies spewing whatever they want to about people they disagree with and now you’re all pissed off because ordinary Americans rose up and punched you in the mouth.”

The audience’s reaction is explosive, a cacophony of jeers and applause.

Charlie Blackwell: That’s right! I’ve had enough, ordinary Americans have had enough and PCW fans have had ENOUGH!

With those final words echoing through the arena, Charlie drops the microphone, which hits the mat with a feedback squawk. He raises his arms, eyes blazing with fervor, embodying the rage and hope of every person who’s ever felt left behind by those in power.

Johnny Suave leans into his own mic, his rapid-fire commentary barely keeping pace with the electric atmosphere.

Johnny Suave: Folks, Charlie Blackwell isn’t fighting just to keep the PCW title; he feels he’s fighting for the soul of PCW. And if the Progressive Alliance thinks they can keep this champion down, they’ve got another thing coming!

The camera pans to Johnny Suave at the broadcast table as he leans into the microphone.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the fray… ‘Low Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Colleen Crowder!

A sharp figure strides forward, her auburn hair like flames against the stark lights of the arena. She adjusts her glasses with an air of contempt, her green eyes radiating disdain.

Colleen Crowder: Trump and Musk, are peddling this ‘merit-based’ system as some panacea for PCW’s woes.

She scoffs, a sardonic smile curling her lips.

Colleen Crowder: But let’s be real—it’s just another scheme wrapped in a shiny package.

The audience buzzes, a mixture of jeers and cheers cascading down like an auditory avalanche. Crowder doesn’t flinch.

Colleen Crowder: And as for Charlie Blackwell!

She jabs a finger toward the ring, accusation sharp as a dagger. “Your diatribe earlier?

Colleen Crowder: A pitiful attempt to scapegoat the Progressive Alliance for decades of problems you all had a hand in. The American people aren’t buying it!

Johnny Suave: Alright, alright! 

Suave puts his hands up as if to ward off the incoming verbal missiles.

Johnny Suave: Let’s take it back to the ring for some action!

Spotlight shifts to the heart of the arena where Kimber Marshall stands, resplendent, her voice commanding.

Kimber Marshall: Our first match will be a tag team match. Introducing first… already in the ring representing the American Heartland Coalition… PCW champion Charlie Blackwell- and his tag team partner tonight… Mike the Mechanic of the Main Street USA.

A familiar ruggedness fills the space as Blackwell holds up the PCW title, his salt-and-pepper beard a battle flag, eyes ablaze with revolutionary fire.

Colleen Crowder: Ugh.  Toxic masculinity alert.

Beside him, Mike the Mechanic, clad in oil-stained overalls, exudes the quiet strength of Main Street USA. At their flank, Tequila Sheila sways, her presence igniting the audience’s fervor.

Colleen Crowder: And shouldn’t he be at his day job?

Kimber Marshall: And their opponents… the embodiment of Hollywood excess- ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels!”

The curtain parts and out struts Daniels, his every step oozing arrogance, the Skanky Rich Bimbos (Paris and Nicole) flanking him in a cloud of perfume and pretension. The crowd’s booing crescendos, a chorus of disapproval that only amplifies his smirk.

Kimber Marshall: Accompanied by The Skanky Rich Bimbos and Taylor Switt.

Switt emerges…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Switt mouths ‘what’s going on?’ as she struts down the ramp with her hand gripping the guitar as if a weapon, its white powder an ominous promise of chaos to come.

Colleen Crowder: What’s going on is a bunch of jealous losers is booing a generational talent.

Kimber Marshall: And his tag team partner tonight… representing Conservative Inc.- Neal Conn!

Colleen’s eyes widen.

Colleen Crowder: What?

The crowd erupts into a chorus of jeers and cheers, the dichotomy of political fervor tangible in the air. A crisp suit replaces spandex, a briefcase swapped for a championship belt, as Neal Conn strides out, exuding the calculated confidence of a man who walks the corridors of power with ease. His piercing gaze scans over the masses, as if he’s appraising assets rather than facing fans.

Johnny Suave: It’s Neal Conn!  Making foreign policy the paramount responsibility of government. Seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order.

He pauses, almost rolling his eyes.

Johnny Suave: Yes, folks, I’m contractually obligated to say that.

The ring becomes a geopolitical stage, set for a showdown not just of physical might but of clashing worldviews. As Neal Conn joins ‘Mr. Hollywood,’ their alliance is a portrait of establishment power—polished, poised, and provocatively smug. The Skanky Rich Bimbos flitter about, creating a scene that’s part Hollywood gala, part political theater.

Johnny Suave: It’s the political establishment of the left… and the right… versus the people.

Colleen Crowder: I think you’re being just a little overdramatic.

Johnny Suave: In one corner, the American Heartland Coalition- gritty, authentic, battle-hardened by life’s relentless grind. In the other, the Progressive Alliance and Conservative Inc.- joining together, wielding their influence like a gavel against the court of public opinion.

Colleen Crowder: Way overdramatic.

MATCH #1: PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell and Mike the Mechanic vs. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels and Neal Conn The bell’s clang reverberates through the O’Neill Center, and Charlie Blackwell charges like a bull at Neal Conn. With a mighty heave, Blackwell slams Conn into the turnbuckle, unleashing a storm of fists that has the crowd on its feet.

Johnny Suave: The PCW Champion is laying down the law, old-school style!

Colleen Crowder: Clearly, Conn was caught off guard by the champion.

But the match’s dynamic shifts when ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels sneaks in, only to be intercepted by Mike the Mechanic’s steel wrench of justice. On the outside, Paris and Nicole circle Tequila Sheila like vultures, their sneers painting pictures of malice. Taylor Switt, the venom-tongued songstress, perches herself on commentary.

Taylor Switt: That’s how we do it in Hollywood, baby!

Johnny Suave: How’d that Super Bowl go for you?

Taylor Switt: You’re such a hater!

Colleen Crowder: Don’t be a hater, Johnny.

Daniels seizes a moment of chaos, cornering Blackwell and pummeling him with sharp, calculated strikes. The crowd jeers as Conn slyly slides a chair into the fray, which Daniels slams against Blackwell’s back with a thunderous crack. They pose triumphantly, basking in the spectacle of their own cruelty.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP. 

Colleen Crowder: Conn and Daniels are making a statement tonight!

Johnny Suave: By cheating-

Suave’s words are cut short by Colleen’s laudatory praise.

Colleen Crowder: A strategic use of resources!

Reeling from the assault, a woozy Blackwell ducks under a double clothesline and crawls toward his corner. He tags in Mike the Mechanic, who arrives like a tempest, his hands swinging with vengeance. Mike drills the chair back into Daniels’ unsuspecting face—a metallic symphony of retribution—and hurls him over the ropes.

Johnny Suave: Mike the Mechanic showing why you don’t mess with Main Street USA!

Colleen Crowder: Pure luck, Johnny.

The American Girl, Sarah Mae Smith, barrels down the ramp, her gaze locked onto the Skanky Rich Bimbos. With a righteous fury, she topples Paris and Nicole, saving Tequila Sheila from their clutches. The crowd roars approval for the heartland heroine.

Johnny Suave: Sarah Mae Smith evens the odds!

Colleen Crowder: Sarah Mae Smith needs to mind her own business.

In the ring, Mike grapples with Conn, showcasing a technical prowess that surprises everyone—including Conn himself. But the fight spills outside as Hallie Burton-Protector of the Military Industrial Complex storms down, targeting Sarah Mae with a merciless assault.

Johnny Suave: Here comes Hallie Burton, adding insult to injury!

Colleen Crowder: Assisting her allies with strategic support.

The ECW-style chaos unfolds with every punch, kick, and slam echoing the political battlegrounds beyond the ring. The air crackles with intensity, each maneuver a satirical jab at the theater of politics, where alliances shift as quickly as the tides of public opinion.

BOOOOOOOOOO!

Johnny Suave: Oh great… Professor McCarthy is here.

The chaotic energy of the O’Neill Center intensifies as Berkley, California Professor McCarthy, flanked by his eclectic Flock (Codee Pink, Emily S. List, The Legion of Anti-Fascists aka LOAF 1 and 2, and the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior) and the Green World Order (PeaceNick, GreenPete, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, and Peta from PETA), swaggers down the aisle. His presence is a jarring contrast to the sweat-soaked ring warriors, his academic robes billowing like dark clouds foretelling a storm.

Professor McCarthy: Behold, the purveyors of truth!

Microphone in hand, the tremor in his voice betraying a mix of self-righteousness and theatrical flair, McCarthy raises up the ‘good book’ for everyone to see.

Professor McCarthy: You have five seconds to bow to intellectual superiority and pledge to follow the ‘good book’ or else we will shout you all down!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Suave rolls his eyes at the absurdity unfolding before them.

Johnny Suave: Intellectual snobbery, more like it.

Colleen, as always, is ever the advocate for the professor’s coalition.

Colleen Crowder: Let’s not dismiss the value of higher education, Johnny.

Johnny Suave: Can we just trade California for Greenland already and get it over with.

In the ring, Blackwell, Mike, Sarah Mae, and Tequila Sheila form a united front, their steely resolve evident even as Daniels and Conn retreat to safety outside the ropes. They exchange determined glances, knowing full well they won’t be cowed by McCarthy’s ultimatum.

Professor McCarthy: Time’s up! The era of enlightenment begins now!

McCarthy’s Flock nods in zealous agreement.

But before the count can reach one, a thunderous roar erupts from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: IT’S THE MAGA-POWERS!

PCW Tag Team champions Starz N. Stripes and Stone Chism burst onto the scene.

Johnny Suave: AND THE DEPLORABLES!  AND MAIN STREET USA! 

Hot on their heels, The Deplorables (‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay and ‘Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan) and the Main Street USA contingent (Farmer John Deer and Ken Worth-American Trucker) charge down the ramp, the ground shaking beneath their heavy boots.

Johnny Suave: Here come the cavalry!

Colleen Crowder: Unsanctioned intervention.

Colleen’s tone drips with disdain for the interruption.

Johnny Suave: It’s an all-out war!

Bodies collide in a maelstrom of fists and fury. The MAGA-Powers zero in on LOAF 1 and 2, their heavy blows punctuating each political point. ‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay takes the fight to PeaceNick, while Farmer John Deer and Ken Worth-American Trucker team up against Brock Cole Lee, the clash of ideologies as palpable as the physical onslaught.

Johnny Suave: Look at this! A pure manifestation of the political divide!

Colleen Crowder: None of them have any reason to come down and interfere in this match!

Chairs fly, signs are wielded like weapons, and through it all, the ring becomes the epicenter of a no-holds-barred commentary on the state of politics today. Each slam, each high-flying maneuver, speaks volumes about the combatants’ convictions. In this arena, every suplex is a statement, every powerbomb a protest.

The din of the crowd reaches a fever pitch as a diminutive figure emerges on stage, her presence like a shockwave through the chaos.

Johnny Suave: IT’S GRACIE McAVAY! 

Colleen grumbles to herself as she keeps hoping that one of these times Greta Thunberg shows up instead of Gracie McAvay. 

The crowd pops because it’s Gracie McAvay, all of nine years old, with a fire in her eyes that belies her tender age. She stands defiant, an American flag notebook clutched in one hand as she glares at Professor McCarthy and his motley crew down in the ring.

Gracie’s voice pierces the tumult.

Gracie McAvay: HOW DARE YOU?

The arena pops at the raw power of innocence challenging authority.  Gracie points at Professor McCarthy.

Gracie McAvay: You don’t get to tell me or anyone else what we should think, believe, or say!

Again, the crowd pops and Johnny Suave leans into his mic, his voice a mix of awe and excitement.

Johnny Suave: Gracie McAvay, taking the political stage by storm!

Colleen Crowder: Appalling. A child being used as a pawn in this ideological tug-of-war.

Johnny Suave: Right. And you were okay when Greta Thunberg did the exact same thing.

Colleen Crowder: That’s different.

But the moment isn’t about them; it’s about Gracie, standing tall against the Flock. Professor McCarthy fumbles with his mic, trying to respond, only for the sound to abruptly cut off.

Dawn McGill, the towering owner of PCW, steps out, her finger clearly having just pressed the mute button.

Johnny Suave: IT’S DAWN McGILL!  SHE’S BACK! 

Colleen whines under her breath and shakes her head.

Dawn McGill: God, does it suck when someone stops you from expressing their views or what?

A smirk plays on her lips while Professor McCarthy and his Flock hurl invectives in McGill’s direction.

Colleen Crowder: Unbelievable, Dawn McGill is silencing free speech? How very ‘democratic’ of her.

Gracie pumps her small fist in the air, emboldened. Then, in a move as startling as it is outrageous, Gracie flips off Professor McCarthy.  

The crowd erupts, 70% cheers, 30% jeers, as the young firebrand makes her stand.

Dawn McGill: GRACIE!

Gracie looks down on the floor contritely.

Gracie McAvay: Sorry.

Johnny Suave: That’s… that’s certainly one way to make your point!

Colleen Crowder: Disrespectful and inappropriate. There are ways to engage in discourse without resorting to-

Johnny Suave: Inflammatory rhetoric, over-the-top bloviating, wailing and gnashing of teeth… wait… that’s been the Progressive Alliance since January 20th.

The scene cuts away from the stage as the brawl continues below, but Gracie’s message lingers, echoing through the PCW universe: a call for freedom, for reclaiming the spirit of the squared circle. This is PCW Extreme Political TV, where the fight for control is as real as the battle waging in Washington D.C.

***

Commercial Break: USAID, FEMA Clear-Out Sale The screen fades to black, a moment of silence hanging in the air before it’s shattered by the booming enthusiasm of Excitable Announcer Guy.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Attention, special interest groups! Elon Musk and DOGE are on the horizon. Are you in dire need of fiscal relief? Got a pet project gasping for federal funds? Well, buckle up, because have we got a deal for you!”

The scene cuts with jarring rapidity, bureaucrats in grey suits appear, their faces splitting into wide, almost maniacal grins as they hurl wads of cash from high windows.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Right here at the USAID and FEMA Clear-Out Sale, we’re slicing through red tape like a hot knife through butter

Excitable Announcer Guy roars over the sound of laughter and paper rustling in the wind.

Excitable Announcer Guy: We are doling out dollars like it’s Monopoly money!

A warehouse bursts onto the screen, bloated with currency, where workers in frantic disarray shove heaps of money into cannons.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Absolute mayhem, and YOU’RE the winner. Remember that bridge to nowhere? Funded!

The screen flickers to life with images of an enormous, isolated bridge spanning across a vast emptiness.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Cha-ching!

A close-up reveals a scientist in a lab coat, peering through a microscope at a slide housing a single endangered desert snail. A cash register sound effect punctuates the absurdity.

Excitable Announcer Guy: And let’s not forget about that solar-powered flashlight initiative- a bright idea, for an even brighter budget!

A woman in a crisp business suit, her smile as wide as the checks she signs, tosses oversized checks down a slide comically large enough to fit her bravado, straight into a frenzy of outstretched hands below.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Natural disaster relief? Pfft, think bigger!

The scene shifts to a cartoonishly overstuffed envelope labeled ’59 million’ being stuffed with cash.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Sending fifty-nine million dollars to New York for illegal immigrants? We call them ‘economic fun-velopes’—filled with freebies for everyone!

In stark contrast, the screen cuts to the somber faces of the folks in Chimney Rock, North Carolina… still recovering from Hurricane Helene.

The people stare directly into the camera, their expressions a mixture of disappointment and stoic resilience.

Their silence is deafening—crickets chirp in the background.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Oh well. The seven hundred-fifty dollars FEMA gave the Hurricane Helene victims should help cushion the blow-

But his sentence is cut short by a sudden, violent shake. The screen vibrates as if in the throes of an earthquake.

His voice hits a new level of hysteria as the door bursts open.

Excitable Announcer Guy: OH NO!

Elon Musk leads a horde of young people, smartphones in hand, symbols of a new chaotic force, stream into the room like a flash flood.

Excitable Announcer Guy: IT’S DOGE! RUN!

All hell breaks loose. Papers fly, officials scatter, and amidst the commotion, a woman walks in.

Excitable Announcer Guy: HOLY *BLEEP*… IT’S KRISTI NOEM!   

Homeland Security Director Kristi Noem strides in, holding aloft a check for fifty-nine million dollars- the very same destined for New York. Her gaze is steely, her intent clear.

Then a blonde walks in…no-nonsense and ready to fire off lawsuits.

Excitable Announcer Guy: Oh *BLEEP*! PAM BONDI?

Bondi brings in the US Marshals who stream into the room and round the riotous crowd.  The chaos crescendos to a climax before suddenly cutting out—

***

Executive Action The raucous crowd inside the O’Neill Center buzzes with anticipation, their voices merging into a cacophonous symphony of political fervor. The red sections, donned in American Patriot gear, clash against the blue waves of the Progressive Alliance, each side vying to drown out the other.

The crowd erupts… well, at least sixty percent of the crowd does…  when CEO of PCW Donald Trump, with a flourish of a pen, signs yet another executive order. His hair remains as immovable as his conviction, his fingers wrapping around the pen with the certainty of a headlock.

Donald Trump: This executive order is to implement a new ranking system. It’s going to be tremendous! Algorithm-based, totally objective, and absolutely NO fake rankings.  

Trump smirks into the camera.

Donald Trump: It’s going to be merit-based… not politically motivated!

Trump, his suit as crisp as his signature scowl, slams another executive order onto a table with a flourish. He looks up, directly into the camera, face glowing with self-satisfaction.

Donald Trump: Tonight, we continue to make PCW great again.  I’ve decided to shake things up. The Guild of Low-Level Reporters- out! Sharon Johns-CNN, Hallie Reed-MSNBC, Doug Miles-Washington Post, and Colleen Crowder-New York Times… we’re replacing them with fresh voices and with fair voices!

He rattles off names like a roster.

Donald Trump: New York Post, Breitbart, the Washington Examiner, the Free Press, the Daily Caller, Newsmax, the Huffington Post and One America News Network.

Cut back to the broadcast desk.

Johnny Suave: There you have it!  Donald Trump with yet another executive order has shaken up the journalists who’ll be covering PCW. 

He turns to Colleen and knows he’s about to set fire to a powder keg.

Johnny Suave: What do you think?

The camera zooms in on Colleen Crowder, her glasses reflecting the stark lighting, fury etched into every line of her face. She stands, her voice clear and sharp as broken glass.

Colleen Crowder: This is an outrage!

She slams her hands down on the announcer’s desk.

Colleen Crowder: We don’t just report the news, we shape it! We decide the narrative.  We decide what the people need to hear!

Johnny Suave can’t hide his smirk, eyes rolling so hard they threaten to detour from their sockets.

Johnny Suave: Sure, Colleen-

Colleen Crowder: Oh *BLEEP* off, Johnny!

Colleen pushes the chair down and storms off, heels clicking like gunshots against the floor.

Johnny Suave: Well… there’s your reaction.

No sooner has Colleen vanished when a district judge emerges from the wings, striding with purposeful gait to the ring.

Johnny Suave: Oh.  What the hell is this?

Microphone in hand, he commands attention.

District Judge: Can I have your attention please?  PCW CEO Trump, I’m afraid you’ve overstepped your bounds.

The crowd’s murmurs rise like a brewing storm, eyes fixed on the unfolding drama. The judge continues, adamant. 

District Judge: You overstepped your authority and you are to reinstate The Guild. This is non-negotiable.

The air crackles with tension, the crowd’s anticipation palpable as the district judge stands defiantly in the center of the ring. But the atmosphere abruptly shifts as a familiar, raucous theme blares through the speakers.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!   HE’S HERE!

The District Judge seems confused. 

Johnny Suave: It’s ‘The Extreme Equalizer’ Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!

Bursting from behind the curtain, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot charges down the aisle, his eyes locked on the judge… who’s jaw has dropped at the looming figure coming towards him.

The crowd erupts into a deafening chant, “PCW… PCW… PCW…” as the embodiment of extreme justice slides under the bottom rope and into the ring.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot stalks closer to the unsuspecting magistrate and his massive hand wraps around his throat.

Johnny Suave: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot has him by the neck!

With one swift, fluid motion, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot hoists the judge high into the air, the man’s legs flailing helplessly. The arena’s energy hits a fever pitch as Whiskey Tango Foxtrot slams the judge down to the mat with a thunderous choke-slam that echoes through the hearts of everyone present.

“PCW… PCW… PCW…” The chant continues, a rhythmic mantra paying homage to the extreme spectacle unfolding before them.

Johnny Suave: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot standing tall, laying down the law here in PCW. 

WTF towers over the crumpled figure of the judge.

Johnny Suave: And folks, we’ll be right back with the PCW Women’s title match after these messages. Don’t you dare go anywhere!

With that, Suave sends it to commercial, but not before the camera catches one last glimpse of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot raising his fists to the sky, the PCW faithful cheering him on.

***

Commercial Break: The Fall Guy Remake Trailer The screen above the ring flickers to life, and instantly, the deep, resonant timbre of a Don LaFontaine-like voice fills the air.

Announcer Guy: In a world full of political backdrops and diplomatic throwdowns…

Onscreen, Joe Biden appears, outfitted as the quintessential Hollywood action hero, complete with aviators and a look of determination that borders on comical. He leaps from exploding cars, narrowly avoiding CGI flames that would give any stunt coordinator a nervous breakdown.

Announcer Guy: Where the stakes are high, and the punches are low…

Biden, now clad in an ill-fitting harness, swings across the set like a septuagenarian Tarzan, landing with unsteady feet before offering a thumbs-up to an off-camera aide.

Announcer Guy: One man will rise above the rest. One man will take a stand… or at least attempt to.

Cue Biden, clinging to the side of a mock helicopter, his hair wildly out of place as a fan simulates hurricane-force winds. His expression remains stoic, yet there’s a glint of humor in his eyes that suggests he’s in on the joke.

Announcer Guy: Get ready for thrills, spills, and a whole lot of gaffes…

A sequence flashes by: Biden, driving a Vespa through a crowded market chase scene, tipping over fruit stands; Biden, attempting to defuse a bomb with an oversized pair of wire cutters, only to snip the wrong wire and be greeted with a puff of harmless smoke.

Announcer Guy: Joe Biden IS… The Fall Guy!

Biden sneaks into an office and is confronted by an animatronic Mitch McConnell. 

Joe Biden: Mitch… Mitch… is that you?

The animatronic Mitch McConnell simply stares ahead… face frozen. 

Announcer Guy: There’s action…

Images flash across the screen: Joe Biden, donning shades and a smirk, leaping from exploding buildings, dodging CGI bullets, and delivering one-liners with a wink. Each stunt more ludicrous than the last, culminating in him parachuting into a Senate hearing, papers flying as he lands with a thud.

Announcer Guy: …there’s suspense…

As the trailer reaches its climax, Biden awkwardly rappels down the side of a green-screened skyscraper, delivering his lines with the same congeniality he might use to address a town hall meeting.

Announcer Guy: …there’s even some humor.

Joe Biden: Folks, I may not always stick the landing, but I promise you- I’ll always fight for justice… exclamation point…

Joe looks off at someone off-screen.

Joe Biden: Oh… I wasn’t supposed to read that?  Mpaheohwom!

The trailer ends with Biden wrestling a cardboard cutout of an international villain, both tumbling off a mock-up of Air Force One, followed by a final, emphatic title card- “The Fall Guy.”

Announcer Guy: Coming soon to a theater near you.

***

Commercial Break: Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky’s Messing Around with Colorado Congresswoman Lauren Boebert (American Patriots) A package of Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky is superimposed in the middle of a golf course fairway on a perfect summer afternoon. 

Announcer: Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky presents ‘Messing Around with Lauren Boebert.’

A heavy-set man prepares to hit his approach shot to the green while his friend waits for him inside a golf cart. 

Heavy Set Man: Five feet from the hole, right here.

He begins his backswing and sees a bunny hopping along and Lauren Boebert running along the edge of the woods off the fairway.  He stops his swing and turns to gawk at Lauren.  The man in the golf cart gets out as well.  He’s munching on a piece of beef jerky.

Lauren stops to rest for a second. 

Both look at each other.  The man hands the bag of beef jerky to the heavy set gentleman and goes back to the golf cart.  He pulls a beer out of the cooler and then begins to vigorously shake it up.

Lauren Boebert: Okay.  Newsflash.  I can see what you’re doing. 

The man approaches Lauren slowly.

Driver of Golf Cart: Hey big fella.

Lauren glares back at him.

Lauren Boebert (annoyed): Big fella?

Driver of Golf Cart: Do you want a cold one?

Lauren Boebert: Okay.  Again, I know what you did to the can of beer.

The man holds out the beer for her to take.

Boebert sighs.

Lauren Boebert: Fine.

Lauren snatches the beer can out of his hand.

Driver of Golf Cart: Okay…you can do it.

She shoots him a ‘look.’  Lauren rolls her eyes and opens the can causing the beer to spray out all over her. 

The two men bust out laughing and jump right back into their golf cart.

Her face and hair soaked with beer, Lauren whips out a taser and fires it at the driver just as he hits the accelerator. 

Driver of Golf Cart: ARRRGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH!

The cart veers sharply into a tree and tips over.

Final scene: a package of Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky superimposed over the turned-over golf cart and the convulsing driver still suffering the effects of being tased.

Announcer: Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky.  Feed your irrationally foolish side.

***

The electric charge of the crowd surges through the O’Neill Center.

Johnny Suave: And we are back from the commercial break.  It’s time for tonight’s main event.  Let’s go to Kimber Marshall in the ring.

The camera pans to Kimber Marshall, standing tall in the center of the ring, her voice booming with dramatic flair that ignites the fans into a frenzy.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen.

Kimber pauses for effect as the audience hangs on every word. 

Kimber Marshall: Our main event will be one fall and it will be for the PCW WOMEN’S TITLE!

The crowd stands and roars.

Kimber Marshall: introducing first, the challenger!

Her voice crescendos.

Kimber Marshall: Representing the Progressive Alliance, ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’—Kathryn Randall Collins!

A symphony of boos and cheers cascades from the stands as KRC strides down the ramp with purpose, her sharp gaze cutting through the smoke-filled entrance. She is flanked by the equally imposing figure of ‘The Blue State Blue Nose’ Charles Robinson-Richards, Esq., his presence commanding respect—or at least demanding it.

Colleen Crowder: Look at them, Johnny. 

Colleen’s voice is still tinged with the heat of her earlier fury.

Colleen Crowder: The epitome of strategy and sophistication.

Suave merely nods.

Amidst the cacophony, Kimber continues.

Kimber Marshall: And her opponent…

The announcer’s pitch rises, teasing the impending entrance.

Kimber Marshall: She is the reigning, defending, PCW Women’s Champion—the ‘Iowa Wunderkind,’ Catherine Cline!

The champion emerges, a stark contrast to the calculated march of her challenger. Cline’s approach is leisurely, radiating warmth as she stops along the way, engaging with the fans who’ve come to adore her. She bends to shake hands, her smile genuine, and poses for selfies with starry-eyed young girls who see in her a hero.

Colleen’s snark slices through the endearing scene.

Colleen Crowder: Isn’t that precious? The ‘Iowa Wunderkind’ taking her sweet time. This isn’t a meet and greet, Cline; this is PCW!

Suave chuckles.

Johnny Suave: Well, Colleen, that’s just the kind of champion Catherine is—accessible and inspiring. A real people’s champ.

Colleen huffs.

MAIN EVENT-PCW WOMEN’S TITLE: Catherine Cline © vs. ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’ Kathryn Randall Collins The bell’s clang cuts through the partisan chants, and both warriors square off in the center of the ring.

Johnny Suave: Cline beckons the challenger with a taunting gesture, daring KRC to take the first swing.

Kathryn Randall Collins, ever the strategist, takes the bait and lunges forward, only to be swiftly grounded by a cunning drop toehold from the ‘Iowa Wunderkind.’

Johnny Suave: Quick thinking by Cline!

Colleen mutters something about beginner’s luck under her breath.

With relentless fervor, Cline rains down a barrage of right hands, each strike punctuated by the crowd’s growing roar. But KRC, resilient as ever, wriggles free and rolls out of the ring, seeking a momentary respite from the onslaught.

Johnny Suvae: Typical Progressive Alliance tactics. Retreating when the going gets tough!

Colleen corrects him sharply.

Colleen Crowder: Strategic withdrawal, Johnny. KRC is simply recalibrating her approach.

Cline, undeterred, pursues her opponent outside the ring, her determination echoing the heartbeat of every fan cheering her on. With a surge of might, she propels Collins back through the ropes into the combat zone. KRC feigns surrender, pleading for mercy, yet it’s all a ruse—a sudden twist ensnares Cline’s neck over the top rope, leaving her gasping.

Suave winces.

Johnny Suave: Ouch! That’s got to hurt.

Colleen smirks at the clever ploy.

Collins seizes the opening, expertly targeting Cline’s arm, wrenching and twisting with calculated precision. Then, in a moment of self-adulation, she ascends the turnbuckle, striking a victorious pose to the jeers of the crowd.

Colleen Crowder: Look at that confidence in KRC.  She knows she’s got this match in the bag.

Johnny Suave: Overconfidence can be a dangerous thing,” counters Suave, wary of the champion’s resilience.

Back on the offensive, KRC sets her sights on the fabled Politics of Personal Destruction submission hold, but Cline refuses to submit to the narrative, fighting her way out with sheer grit. In a swift counter, the champion attempts a sunset flip, but Collins deflects it, snapping Cline’s arm back in retaliation and scoring a near fall.

Johnny Suave: Close call there!

Colleen Crowder: The referee could have counted that a little faster.

Frustration edges into Colleen’s tone as she watches Robinson-Richards shout protests at the referee.

Amidst the chaos, KRC hoists Cline up and delivers a punishing back suplex, mocking the fans’ allegiance to their hero. Her cohort, Robinson-Richards, joins in the derision, inciting the audience further.

Colleen Crowder: Kathryn is dominating this match.

Johnny Suave: True.  But you can never count out Catherine Cline.

Cline seizes an opportunity, rolling up Collins in a surprise pin attempt, but it’s not enough to keep the challenger down for the count.

Johnny Suave: Cline nearly got KRC there.

Colleen Crowder: She pulled the tights, Johnny.

Johnny Suave: No she didn’t.

The Progressive Alliance leader continues the narrative and berates the official, claiming foul play, while Cline and Collins remain locked in a battle of wills and wits.

The ring reverberates with the impact of bodies clashing, the crowd’s fervor rising as Catherine Cline nails a bulldog on Kathryn Randall Collins.

Johnny Suave: The champion scrambles for another quick pin and folds KRC like an accordion!

But the Ultimate Political Operative wriggles free, countering with a vicious rake to the eyes.

Colleen Crowder: Classic Collins! She knows every trick in the book.

Johnny Suave: Desperation move there, Colleen.  But effective.

KRC towers over a blinking Cline, locking her steely gaze onto the belt resting at ringside. “Give up, Cline!” she barks, her voice echoing through the arena. “That belt belongs to me!”

Cline, undeterred, shakes her head defiantly. “Bring it on!” she shouts back, a fire igniting in her eyes.

Amidst the standoff, ‘The Blue State Blue Nose’ Charles Robinson-Richards cunningly distracts the referee by sticking a foot into the ring.

Johnny Suave: Now what is he doing?

Colleen Crowder: Who? I don’t see anything.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE!  THAT’S HILLARY CLINTON! 

This nefarious act paves the way for Clinton, brandishing a steel-folding chair like a weapon of political destruction, to slip into the ring behind the unsuspecting Cline.

Johnny Suave: YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

Colleen is barely able to contain her excitement.

Colleen Crowder: It’s strategy, Johnny. Pure strategy.

But before the chair can kiss steel against flesh, a roar erupts from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: WAIT!  IT’S TULSI! 

Colleen Crowder: What is she doing here? 

Tulsi Gabbard, the new Director of Intelligence and Hillary’s longtime nemesis, dashes down the ramp. In a moment of poetic justice, Gabbard snatches the chair away just as Clinton’s about to strike.

Johnny Suave: SHE’S GOT THE CHAIR! 

Clinton whirls around, her shock apparent as she locks eyes with Gabbard. Without hesitation, she scurries out of the ring, fleeing to the back with Gabbard hot on her heels.

“Get her, Tulsi!” someone yells from the crowd, their cheer cutting through the commotion.

Collins, distracted by the sudden intrusion, leaves herself open. Seizing her moment, Cline capitalizes on the lapse, delivering a devastating Facebuster to the challenger. The crowd counts along as Cline hooks the leg.

“ONE… TWO… THREE!”

Colleen Crowder: Damn it!

Her words are laced with frustration as Robinson-Richards arrives a hair too late to intervene.

Kimber Marshall: YOUR WINNER AND STILL PCW Women’s Champion, Catherine Cline!

Johnny Suave: Catherine Cline retains! 

Cline has the PCW Women’s title belt and climbs up each turnbuckle to show it off.

Johnny Suave: What a night!  That’s going to do it for tonight.  Colleen, any last thoughts?

Colleen Crowder: Oh *BLEEP* off! 

She tears off the headphones and drops them on the table.

[pcwpolwrestling]

2/7-Live Look-In at PCW Poughkeepsie, NY House Show: DOGE-Ball, Showdown Outside PCW Owner's Office

PCW Live Look-In Mid-Hudson Civic Center Friday February 7th, 2025

Johnny Suave: I’m ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave, and you’re catching a live look-in of a PCW house show! 

Johnny’s voice crackles with energy, an unmistakable hint of mischief lacing his words.

Johnny Suave: But first, tempers flared backstage earlier in the night when a cadre of high-powered political heavyweights tried to barge into PCW owner Victoria McGill’s office and was denied entry.

Cut to a replay of the chaos backstage that took place involving members of the Progressive Alliance. Representative Maxine Waters, her eyes ablaze with determination, stands toe-to-toe with a bald-headed man mountain guarding Victoria McGill’s office door. Rep. Jan Schakowsky, Rep. Maxwell Frost, and Rep. Jahana Hayes flank her, their faces etched with frustration as they confront the immovable object before them.

Security Guard: Sorry. No one goes in.

Maxine Waters: Listen here.

Waters jabs a finger towards the silent guardian.

Maxine Waters: We are elected representatives, and we demand a meeting with Ms. McGill. Now step aside!

The guard turns his head toward the door.

Security Guard: Ms. McGill. Are you available right now?

Victoria McGill’s Voice (from inside): No! No interruptions!

Security Guard: Sorry.

Maxine Waters: Let us in!

The guard’s stance does not waver; his arms folded across his broad chest like steel cables locLoade in place. He’s the personification of a fortress, his bald head reflecting the overhead lights as though polishing his resolve.

Security Guard: Sorry, but Tori’s orders are clear – no interruptions.

Jan Schakowsky barges to the front.

Security Guard: Ma’am, I’m sorry.

Jan Schakowsky: Ask her again.

The guard sighs.

Security Guard: Ms. McGill?

Victoria McGill’s Voice (from inside): No interruptions!

Security Guard: I’m sorry. She’s made her decision clear.

Jan Schakowsky: Are you really prepared to stand there all night?

Security Guard: Longer if I have to. 

Maxine Waters: Do you work for Elon Musk?

Security Guard: No.

Jahana Hayes: Let us in! 

Cut to inside Victoria’s office. She raises her cell phone and turns the volume up.

Victoria McGill: They’re going to love this.

She hits a button and then…

Back outside…

Elon Musk’s Voice (from Tori’s phone inside the office): No!

Waters, Schakowsky, Frost, and Jahana Hayes become extremely agitated while the guard merely stands by.

The tension thickens, the air nearly vibrating with the standoff’s intensity.

Maxwell Frost: Move, or we’ll make you move!

The guard doesn’t budge, his presence alone serving as a barricade.

Maxine Waters: Let us in!

Elon Musk’s Voice (from Tori’s phone inside the office): No!

All: Let us in!

Elon Musk’s Voice (from Tori’s phone inside the office): No!

All: LET US IN!

Elon Musk’s Voice (from Tori’s phone inside the office): No!

As the frustration on the part of the Progressive Alliance group intensifies, the security guard just stands there in front of the door… cool as could be. 

DOGE-Ball The raucous energy of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon pulsates through the air, a current of anticipation that crackles with each passing second. On the flickering screen above the bar, the title “DOGE-Ball” slams into view, accompanied by a chorus of cheers and jeers from the partisan crowd.

Johnny Suave: Alright, folks! Get ready for a showdown of epic proportions! It’s the first-ever PCW Dodgeball battle… Elon Musk and his crew versus the political heavyweights!

‘Low-level New York Times reporter trying to make a big name for herself’ Colleen Crowder joins him.

Colleen Crowder: I can’t believe we’re doing this.

The scene erupts into life as Elon Musk, sporting a headband and an impish grin, stands at the helm of a motley crew.

Colleen Crowder: Elon Musk is once again overstepping his boundaries and sticLoade his nose into things he shouldn’t be.  Who are these people anyways?

Johnny Suave: They’re Musk’s engineers- all united by a single cause: to take down the smug elite of the USAID supporters in a high-stakes game of dodgeball.  Musk’s Mavericks-

Colleen rolls her eyes.

Colleen Crowder: Musk’s Mavericks?  Really?

Johnny Suave: They are here to throw wrenches into the system, quite literally!

The political heavyweights and supporters of USAID get ready.  Senator Ed Markey takes position, his eyes narrowed in focus, while Senator Cory Booker bounces on his toes, all athletic prowess and fiery determination. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez ties her hair back, a warrior preparing for battle. Senator Chuck Schumer stretches out, cracLoade his neck side to side, and Rep. Hakeem Jeffries psyches up his team with a clap of hands that echoes like a war drum.

The referee steps up and asks both teams if they’re ready.  Musk nods.  Jeffries and Schumer nods.

Johnny Suave: Here we go! 

The whistle blows, and the match begins- a flurry of red, white, and blue rubber spheres soaring across the screen. Musk ducks, weaves, and launches a counter-offensive, his ball connecting with Booker’s chest with a resounding thud that sends the senator staggering backward.

Johnny Suave: Down goes Booker!

Colleen Crowder: Oh booooo! 

One by one, the USAID supporters find themselves bombarded, outmaneuvered, and outplayed by the sheer unpredictability of Musk’s Mavericks.

*BONK*

Johnny Suave: AOC is OUT!

*BONK*

Johnny Suave: Ed Markey gets it in the stomach and he’s bent over.

Senator Markey then tips over to the floor like a tree falling.

*BONK*

Johnny Suave: Hakeem Jeffries is out!

Colleen Crowder: Oh, come on!

Laughter bubbles up from the crowd as Schumer dodges left only to catch a rogue ball straight to the face.

Johnny Suave: Schumer’s been piefaced!

As the final whistle pierces the air, the screen freezes on Musk’s triumphant fist pump. The rag-tag group of ordinary Americans has done the impossible—they’ve stunned the USAID supporters into silence.

Johnny Suave: Can you believe it?! The Mavericks topple the titans! This is what PCW Extreme Political TV is all about, folks!

Colleen Crowder: Elon Musk brings these… ringers… in and embarrass our leaders.

The USAID team are not amused. The politicos regroup, nursing their bruised egos and bodies, their faces twisted in a cocktail of disbelief and fury.

Colleen Crowder: They’re not happy and they’ve got every right to be.  Who do these people think they are?

As they exit the dodgeball court, they vow to take this fight beyond the bounds of play, out onto the streets where the real battles are fought.

Johnny Suave: Uh oh, looks like this isn’t over. The politicos are promising a rematch, but this time, no holds barred, right in the heart of America. Now… let’s turn back the clock.

Video Replay-PCW Loose Cannons Unleashed- March 1st, 2005 Johnny Suave has the Dixie Chucks with him.

Johnny Suave: The Dixie Chucks are three men who each dress like a member of the Dixie Chicks.  There’s Chuck-atalie,  Chuck-mily, and Chuck-artie. 

Suave turns to them. 

Johnny Suave: It’s been a “long time gone” since we’ve seen the Dixie Chucks and that I have a feeling that you came from “wide open spaces” to be there not because they’re “ready to run,” not because they wanted a “cowboy take me away” kind of thing.  You’re out here because there’s something bothering you… am I right? 

Chuck-atalie is not impressed with Suave’s wit.

Chuck-atalie: You can just save it.  An injustice what has been done to the Dixie Chicks.

Johnny Suave: Oh, ‘there’s your trouble’”  

Chuck-mily steps forward and chimes in.

Chuck-mily: Free speech means free speech.  What has happened to these lovely women is totally against the American way! People may not like what they have to say, but you don’t have to. 

Johnny Suave: Noble sentiments.  I presume you’re referring to the recent comments made by Earl Locke of the tag team Locke and Loade about the Dixie Chicks and you would all like to say…oh, I don’t know…perhaps, ‘Goodbye Earl?’

This offends Chuck-artie. 

Chuck-artie: Suave, we sure don’t appreciate your “smart-ass comments.”  If you don’t stop we’re going to take away the cardboard cut-out of “that no-talent singer who doesn’t belong on the same stage, who isn’t remotely in the same league as the Dixie Chicks.

Suave backs away and protects his cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain.  Chuck-artie points at the audience.

Chuck-artie: I’m putting you and everyone here in PCW on notice.  Anyone, I repeat, anyone who says anything bad about the Dixie Chicks from now on will answer to us. That’s right.  You say something bad about the Dixie Chicks.  The Dixie Chucks are gonna KICK YOUR ASS!

Suddenly, the opening riffs to Toby Keith’s “How Do You Like Me Now?” blare over the sound system and out comes Earl Locke and Gary Loade aka ‘The Raving Rednecks’ Locke and Loade.  Locke comes out carrying a huge picture of Toby Keith and waves it in Chuck-atalie’s face. 

Earl Loade: WHO’S YOUR DADDY?  HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW? 

Gary Locke: The BIG DOGS are here! It’s time to Locke and Loade baby, Locke and Loade! 

Johnny Suave: All right.  You all heard what the Dixie Chucks just said. 

Earl Loade: First, I’d like to compliment Suave on the cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain. 

Then he turns to the Dixie Chucks.

Earl Loade: You come out talLoade all this tough talk about kicLoade people’s asses if they insult the Dixie Chicks.  Hell the way y’all are dressed, I don’t think you’re in any position to kick anyone’s ass!  If anything, we’ll put a boot in your ass cause that’s the Locke and Loade way!

 The Dixie Chucks talk trash in return.  Locke then speaks up. 

Gary Locke: Now hold on a sec, Earl.  I really don’t have that much of a problem with the way these guys are dressed.

Earl Loade: Oh?

Gary Locke: Hell, the way I see it, these guys look a hell of a lot better in these outfits than the Dixie Chicks-” 

Immediately, the Dixie Chuck’s attack Locke and Loade… (END VIDEO)

The ring’s canvas trembles under the heavy boots of Gary Locke as he steps forward, his partner Earl Loade mirroring the movement. Twenty years have passed and their faces may be weathered but their spirits aren’t.  Locke and Loade remain battle-hardened warriors.

Locke raises the microphone to speak, his voice gruff like gravel on a backcountry road

Gary Locke: Ya know, twenty long years ago, we stood across the ring from y’all, ready to tear the house down. And here we are again, boys.

Earl Loade nods solemnly, the lines on his face mapping out the history of every match, every cheer, and every heartbreak.

Earl Loade: We’d be much obliged…

Loade tips an imaginary hat.

Earl Loade: …to dance with you folks one more time for the PCW’s big 2-0.

The crowd erupts, sensing the sincerity in their challenge, nostalgia washing over them like a wave. From across the squared circle, Chuck-artie, Chuck-mily, and Chuck-atalie—the trio known as ‘The Dixie Chucks’—step forward. Their stance is defiant, but respect laces their features.

Chuck-atalie: Locke, Loade.  We accept your challenge. But just so y’all know, we ain’t the Dixie Chucks no more. We’re just ‘The Chucks’, leaner and meaner than ever.

A brief silence falls, a quiet acceptance of change and evolution. Then, as if on cue, Locke and Loade shrug off the name update, unfazed by anything that isn’t the fight itself.

Locke adds, raising his microphone with a solemnity reserved for moments larger than the match itself,

Gary Locke:  Before we tangle, Earl and I want to dedicate this match to a man who sang about our kind of America, a man who left us just over a year ago- Mr. Toby Keith.

A collective hush blankets the raucous crowd.

Earl Loade: Tonight, we fight in memory of Toby. Let’s make it one helluva show.

Spotlights dance across the crowd, reflecting off raised beer cups and homemade signs as Kimber Marshall takes center stage, her presence alone commanding the room’s attention. The spotlight glints off her wavy brunette hair as she leans into the microphone, her voice booming.

Introducing first,” she announces, drawing out the suspense, “hailing from the deepest parts of the American heartland, Gary Locke and Earl Loade… The Raving Rednecks!”

The two teams stand inside the ring, a mere rope’s length apart. The crowd’s anticipation simmers, ready to boil over. The Rednecks exchange a knowing nod, their bond forged in countless brawls. Across the ring, The Chucks share a glance, the same fire that brought them together all those years ago now reigniting.

The referee stands between them, eager to signal the start, yet understanding the gravity of the moment. This isn’t just about winning or losing. It’s about legacy, memories, and the indomitable spirit of those who’ve walked the path before.

With a final nod to each other and the audience they’ve entertained for two decades, both teams settle into their corners. The bell rings, sharp and clear—a clarion call to battle, to honor, and to the timeless dance of Pro Wrestling’s grand theater.

‘The Raving Rednecks’ Gary Locke and Earl Loade vs. The Dixie Chucks (Chuck-mily, Chuck-artie, and Chuck-atilie) The bell sounds.   

Gary Locke and Chuck-atalie face off, their eyes locking with the intensity of old rivals reigniting a flame that has flickered for two decades.

Johnny Suave: Here we go, folks! A classic showdown, rekindled right before our very eyes!”

Locke, grizzled and determined, asserts control with a headlock that seems to squeeze the partisanship straight out of Chuck-atalie. The crowd roars as they trade wrist locks, each maneuver a metaphor for the push and pull of political debate. But when Locke attempts a roundhouse kick, Chuck-atalie ducks, showcasing the agility that dodges scandal and spinning headlines.

Johnny Suave: Whoa! A close call for Chuck-atalie, but he’s still in this fight!

Tag! In comes Chuck-artie, fresh and eager, only to be welcomed by Loade’s meaty chops that echo like thunderous applause at a political rally. Chuck-artie throws punches but Loade absorbs them and floors him with authority.

Johnny Suave: Loade is standing tall! This man is an immovable force tonight!

Chuck-atalie, now tagged in, hesitates on the edge of engagement like a candidate reconsidering a controversial stance. He rolls out of the ring, and chaos unfurls on the floor. Loade and Locke, seizing the moment, plant the Chucks in chairs against the barricade, embodying the audacious spirit of PCW as they deliver a crushing running crossbody.

“ONE MORE TIME!” The crowd chants, thirsty for spectacle over substance.

Johnny Suave: Are you not entertained?!

Following the people’s will, Loade obliges with a second sandwiching crossbody that draws laughter and cheers. Attempting to regain ground, Chuck-artie surprises Locke with a swift kick that sends him tumbling off the apron. Loade, however, manages to land a hefty release German suplex on Chuck-artie, who astonishingly pops back up.

Johnny Suave: How did Chuck-artie get back up from that?

Both warriors, drained yet driven, collide mid-ring with crossbodies, crashing down in a heap of limbs and ambition. Crawl after agonizing crawl, they reach their corners, tagging in fresh blood.

Johnny Suave: Locke is back with fire in his belly!  

Locke unleashes a barrage of clotheslines and a pinpoint dropkick to Chuck-atalie, every hit landed with the precision of a carefully crafted soundbite.

Locke coils, ready to strike with the DDT, but Chuck-atalie’s not having any of it today. He wriggles free and Locke’s frustration boils over. With a roar, he hurls Chuck-atalie through the ropes, out onto the floor. Not missing a beat, Locke vaults over the top rope with a corkscrew plancha, nailing both Chucks in a display that sends the crowd into a frenzy.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

“THIS IS AWESOME!” The Poughkeepsie crowd chants.

Back between the ropes, Locke nails a high-flying Meteora on Chuck-atalie, hooks the leg for the pin… 1…2…

Johnny Suave: NO!  Chuck-atalie somehow kicks out at two!

Chuck-atalie, desperate to rally, attempts to summon the energy of a grassroots campaign, but as he charges, Locke’s boot meets his face—a brutal reminder that sometimes, the establishment kicks back hard.

Suddenly, the third member of the Chucks… Chuck-mily… climbs up onto the ring apron and starts shouting at Locke and Loade.  It’s the distraction Chuck-atalie needs. He capitalizes, going low and crotching Locke on the turnbuckle. But Locke’s seasoned; he slips away, quick as a backdoor amendment, and delivers a punishing kick to Chuck-atalie’s head.

Johnny Suave: The Chucks had Loade in their sights but Loade snuck out the back door.

With the tide turning, Locke reaches out, tagging in Loade. Together, they’re a force of nature—a cannonball and sliding dropkick combo that nearly seals the deal. But Chuck-artie leaps in with a dropkick senton splash, shattering the pinfall attempt.

Johnny Suave: NO!  CHUCK-ARTIE BREAKS IT UP AT THE LAST SECOND!

A shockwave ripples through the crowd. Loade, unphased, wraps a choke around Chuck-artie, who claws desperately at Loade’s eyes—an escape as dirty as campaign mudslinging. Chuck-atalie seizes the moment, planting Loade with a DDT. The cover: 1…2…

Johnny Suave: NO!  LOADE KICKED OUT… LOADE KICKED OUT!

But Loade’s resilience is unmatched. He fights off a brainbuster attempt with the tenacity of a third-party candidate refusing to be ignored. Locke jumps back into the fray and clobbers Chuck-atalie from behind.  Locke then clotheslines Chuck-artie to the floor and punches Chuck-mily.   

Johnny Suave: Gary Locke clears out the other two Chucks and he’s got Chuck-atalie up.  Here it comes…

Loade pulls himself up and the tandem offense is a symphony of aggression. 

Johnny Suave: 4-D DEATHBOMB! 

The devastating 4-D Death Bomb on Chuck-atalie leaves him on the mat unmoving.  Loade hooks the leg and the referee slides in.

Johnny Suave:  1…2…3! It’s over! Raving Rednecks with the win!

Kimber Marshall rolls into the ring.

Kimber Marshall: YOUR WINNERS… THE RAVING REDNECKS LOCKE AND LOADE! 

The crowd roars. Both teams exchange handshakes and show respect to each other.

[pcwpolwrestling]

2/5-PCW Extreme Political TV-Joe Biden Goes Hollywood, Cline vs. KRC, The View vs. The '10's', and DOGE Warriors in Action

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon Taped Saturday February 1st, 2025 Wednesday February 5th, 2025

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024

Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots)

Contenders: The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

Opening The raucous energy of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon fills the air with the sound of rabid cheers.

PCW… PCW… PCW…

In the center of the storm, ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave stands in the squared circle and raises a microphone to start the show.

Johnny Suave: Hello and welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV!  Tonight, we are coming at you from the one and only Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon!

PCW… PCW… PCW…

The crowd’s volume crescendos, a mix of boos and cheers as Colleen Crowder emerges, her expression fixed in a grimace that softens just enough to betray her amusement at the ridiculousness of it all.

Johnny Suave: I am Johnny Suave.  As always, with me is the ‘Low Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ – Colleen Crowder!

Colleen’s green eyes roll behind her stylish glasses.  

Colleen Crowder: Why do you have to always put it like that?

Johnny Suave: Last week, we saw ‘The Ultimate Political Operator’ Kathryn Randall Collins defeat the American Patriot’s Laura Brobert in a Women’s Division number one contender’s match.  Next week, KRC will challenge PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline for the PCW Women’s title.  Tonight, both women will be here to address the crowd!

The mention of the title bout sends a wave of anticipation through the crowd. Glasses clink; the air thrums with the electricity of impending conflict.

Johnny Suave: Also tonight, we’ve got the Green World Order… Extreme Vegan Brock Cole Lee and GreenPete…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Johnny Suave: …square off against the Bi-Partisan Dream Team in our main event. 

He pauses for dramatic effect, allowing the frenzied shouts and chants to reach a fever pitch.

Johnny Suave: But right now, you all heard the recent remarks ‘The View’s’ Joy Behar made towards PCW CEO Donald Trump’s new spokesperson Karoline Leavitt. 

The video screen comes on and shows Joy Behar’s comments about Karoline Leavitt. “I think that she’s probably been put in there because according to Donald Trump, she’s a 10,” Behar said. “You know that’s what it is… she’s a 10.”  The crowd erupts into a cacophony of jeers and cheers as Behar’s image freezes on the phrase, “she’s a 10.”

Colleen Crowder: I find nothing wrong with what Joy said.

Johnny Suave: No matter, we’ve got a grudge match between two teams who do not like each other. You do NOT want to miss this! Let’s go to the ring right now with Kimber Marshall.

The familiar theme music from “The View” blares out, igniting the already electric air. Kimber, with her wavy brunette hair cascading over her shoulders like a theatrical curtain, strikes a dramatic pose in the center of the ring.

Kimber Marshall: Introducing, representing ‘The View,’…

Kimber pauses for effect, gesturing grandly toward the entrance,

Kimber Marshall: Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg!

The trio strides out, each step they take punctuated by the mixed reactions from the red, blue, and Heartland sections. Behar smirks knowingly while Goldberg exudes her characteristic confidence, and her eyes flash with competitive fire.

But before the echoes of their theme song fade, Kimber’s voice rises once more.

Kimber Marshall: And now, please welcome their opponents… they are ‘The 10s’!

Her announcement is met with a fresh wave of noise as Trump’s Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt and Attorney General Pam Bondi emerge. The Trump team, looking every bit the part of wrestling elite, stride down towards the ring with purpose and poise.

The trash-talking ignites, verbal jabs flying faster than a reporter’s pen on election night. Behar throws shade with the precision of a seasoned pro, while Leavitt snaps back, her retort cutting through the din. Bondi joins in, their words laced with challenge and defiance.

Johnny Suave: There’s no love lost between these two teams.

Colleen Crowder, ever the sharp-tongued journalist, leans in close to Suave, her green eyes flashing behind stylish glasses.

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, Whoopi Goldberg was right.  Without that wokeness, Karoline Leavitt might not have that job.

Johnny Suave: The referee is ready and here we go!

MATCH #1: The View (Joy Behar and Whoopi Goldberg) vs. The 10’s (Karoline Leavitt and Pam Bondi) The clang of the bell reverberates through Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon and without any hesitation, ‘The View’ and ‘The 10’s’ collide with a violence in the center of the ring.

Johnny Suave: ALL FOUR WOMEN CONVERGE IN THE MIDDLE AND THEY’RE GOING AT IT!

Colleen Crowder: Come on Joy!  Come on Whoopi!

The sea of spectators roars approval and dissent, the sound an overwhelming torrent that fuels the fire inside the ring. It’s a free-for-all as the entire saloon shakes with the impact of raw, unfiltered action. The fight spills beyond the confines of the ring, turning every inch of Hack’s Rusty Nail into an arena where only the politically and physically extreme survive.

Chairs clang and bodies tumble, the raucous crowd at Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon on their feet for this no-holds-barred political melee.

Whoopi Goldberg, with the gravitas of a woman unafraid to wield influence, grabs a steel chair.

Johnny Suave: Whoopi’s got the chair…

She swings it with devastating intent, aiming for the head of Karoline Leavitt, who exhibits reflexes normally associated by those who’ve been honed by years of navigating political minefields. Leavitt evades at the last moment, leaving Goldberg off-balance.

Johnny Suave: …no! Missed by a mile!

Suave’s words are punctuated by the collective gasp from the crowd. Leavitt seizes her chance, retaliating with a forceful slam that sends Goldberg crashing through a nearby table.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! Goldberg’s through the table!

The impact is cataclysmic; splinters erupt into the air as if celebrating in their own macabre confetti parade. 

Much to Colleen’s irritation, the crowd roars and a chant breaks out…

PCW… PCW… PCW…

Colleen Crowder: Oh stop it already! 

The Saloon’s patrons are on their feet now, some cheering for the display of extreme athleticism, others decrying the brutality. Whoopi Goldberg lies amidst the debris, her chair-wielding arm now limp at her side.

Before the dust can settle, a new uproar erupts from the entranceway. Suave’s eyes widen, Colleen Crowder leans forward in anticipation, and the crowd parts like a sea of political partisans, their cheers and jeers reaching fever pitch.

Johnny Suave: Wait, what’s this?

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez jumps over the bar where she’s been hiding and bursts onto the scene, fury etched into her battle-ready expression.   

Johnny Suave: IT’S ALEXANDRIA OCASIO-CORTEZ!  SHE WAS HIDING AT THE BAR!

AOC points her finger at her temple to show that she’s smarter than everyone else and zones in on Pam Bondi.

Colleen Crowder: Do it AOC!

Johnny Suave: Bondi has no clue she’s behind her.

But before anything happens, a man steps in and blocks AOC. 

Johnny Suave: THAT’S ELON MUSK! 

Cue crowd pop. 

AOC’s blindsided by the sudden appearance of the leader of the DOGE movement.  Musk does the ‘I’m smarter than you’ gesture with his finger.   

Johnny Suave: AND THAT’S KRISTI NOEM AND MEGYN KELLY!

Kristi Noem and Megyn Kelly charge into the fray wielding steel-folding chairs in hand.  

Colleen Crowder: What are they doing here?

Johnny Suave: This is so totally not your narrative.

Colleen Crowder: No it’s not!

Chairs swing, finding their target in AOC with punishing thuds.

Colleen Crowder: NOOO!

Johnny Suave: Down goes AOC! 

*WHACK*

Johnny Suave: Down goes Behar!

Colleen Crowder: Someone stop them!

Johnny struggles to be heard over the clash of metal.

Johnny Suave: Noem and Kelly are cleaning house!

Amid the chaos, Karoline Leavitt—her eyes alight with fiery determination—seizes her golden opportunity.

Leavitt grabs a disoriented Joy Behar by the arm, yanking her back to the ring’s unforgiving canvas like a marionette whose strings have been snatched by fate.

Leavitt wastes not a second. With feline agility, she rolls up Behar, who flails helplessly, caught in the sudden whirlwind pin.

Johnny Suave: Leavitt goes for the cover!

The referee, emblematic of order in this tempest of turmoil, dives into position, hand thundering down upon the mat. “One… Two… Three!”

Johnny Suave: They’ve done it! The 10’s have won!

Colleen Crowder: Dammit!

The bell’s sharp peal cleaves through the cacophony—a beacon of finality. ‘The 10’s’ are victorious; they’ve snatched triumph from the jaws of pandemonium.

In the center of the ring, Kimber Marshall’s voice swells above the din, her announcement grandiose and definitive.

Kimber Marshall: Your winners… Karoline Leavitt and Pam Bondi… ‘The 10’s!’

Leavitt, Bondi, along with Noem and Kelly revel in the spoils of war, their celebration a dance of the politically potent.

The View, though battered and beaten, rise like phoenixes from the ashes of defeat. They stagger to their feet, defiant to the end, hurling verbal salvos back at their conquerors, each word a testament to the unyielding spirit of discourse.

Johnny Suave: Well folks, we’ve got some news to report to you. Former CEO of PCW and current free agent Joe Biden has just signed a deal with talent agency CAA!

The crowd is buzzing, some with confusion, others with amusement. The wrestling ring, still quaking from the earlier brawl, seems to pulse with curiosity at the unexpected turn of events.

Johnny Suave: We’re cutting to a commercial break featuring the man himself, starring in the upcoming Fall Guy remake. Brace yourselves—this is going to be one for the history books!

***

The Fall Guy Remake Trailer The screen above the ring flickers to life, and instantly, the deep, resonant timbre of a Don LaFontaine-like voice fills the air.

Announcer Guy: In a world full of political backdrops and diplomatic throwdowns…

Onscreen, Joe Biden appears, outfitted as the quintessential Hollywood action hero, complete with aviators and a look of determination that borders on comical. He leaps from exploding cars, narrowly avoiding CGI flames that would give any stunt coordinator a nervous breakdown.

Announcer Guy: Where the stakes are high, and the punches are low…

Biden, now clad in an ill-fitting harness, swings across the set like a septuagenarian Tarzan, landing with unsteady feet before offering a thumbs-up to an off-camera aide.

Announcer Guy: One man will rise above the rest. One man will take a stand… or at least attempt to.

Cue Biden, clinging to the side of a mock helicopter, his hair wildly out of place as a fan simulates hurricane-force winds. His expression remains stoic, yet there’s a glint of humor in his eyes that suggests he’s in on the joke.

Announcer Guy: Get ready for thrills, spills, and a whole lot of gaffes…

A sequence flashes by: Biden, driving a Vespa through a crowded market chase scene, tipping over fruit stands; Biden, attempting to defuse a bomb with an oversized pair of wire cutters, only to snip the wrong wire and be greeted with a puff of harmless smoke.

Announcer Guy: Joe Biden IS… The Fall Guy!

Biden sneaks into an office and is confronted by an animatronic Mitch McConnell. 

Joe Biden: Mitch… Mitch… is that you?

The animatronic Mitch McConnell simply stares ahead… face frozen. 

Announcer Guy: There’s action…

Images flash across the screen: Joe Biden, donning shades and a smirk, leaping from exploding buildings, dodging CGI bullets, and delivering one-liners with a wink. Each stunt more ludicrous than the last, culminating in him parachuting into a Senate hearing, papers flying as he lands with a thud.

Announcer Guy: …there’s suspense…

As the trailer reaches its climax, Biden awkwardly rappels down the side of a green-screened skyscraper, delivering his lines with the same congeniality he might use to address a town hall meeting.

Announcer Guy: …there’s even some humor.

Joe Biden: Folks, I may not always stick the landing, but I promise you- I’ll always fight for justice… exclamation point…

Joe looks off at someone off-screen.

Joe Biden: Oh… I wasn’t supposed to read that?  Mpaheohwom!

The trailer ends with Biden wrestling a cardboard cutout of an international villain, both tumbling off a mock-up of Air Force One, followed by a final, emphatic title card- “The Fall Guy.”

Announcer Guy: Coming soon to a theater near you.

***

Backstage Under the harsh fluorescent lights, CEO Donald Trump stands surrounded by aides, his face set in determination, a stack of papers in hand labeled “PCW Proclamations.”

Donald Trump:  We’re streamlining this place, making it more efficient than ever! No more red tape to choke our champions. First up, we’re digitizing all contracts – blockchain style, thanks to my good friend Elon Musk. We’re going to be the most transparent political wrestling company in the world. 

Aide: PCW is the only political-

Donald Trump: That’s not the point.  Joe Biden and his cronies hid everything he did from public view.  With Elon’s help, we’re going to pull back the curtain and reveal everything! 

The aides scribble furiously, barely keeping up with the rapid-fire declarations.

Donald Trump: I want to know exactly where every penny spent went to.  PCW is trillions of dollars in debt thanks to unchecked spending and we want to get to the bottom of this.  And we’re going to do it.  Watch this commercial…

Cut to…

The screen flickers to life, the gritty overtones of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon fading into a rugged, dust-choked landscape. A muscular pickup truck, its grill gleaming like the teeth of a predatory beast, roars across the barren terrain. Its driver? None other than Elon Musk, his gaze fixed with laser-like intensity on the horizon.

Musk slams a heavy-duty boot onto the accelerator, the engine’s growl rising to a fevered pitch as he and his DOGE warriors barrel down the wasteland. They’re an eclectic crew clad in tactical gear, each one sporting a symbol – the unmistakable Shiba Inu of Dogecoin.

Narrator: Meet the DOGE warriors, a band of renegades on a mission to sniff out waste and streamline the system!

The truck skids to a halt beside a dilapidated building labeled ‘Department of Redundancy Department.’ Musk hops out, a glint of determination sparkling in his eye. His DOGE warriors follow, brandishing tablets and futuristic tools.

Narrator: Watch them dig up the dirt… 

The warriors charge into the building,

Narrator: …and bury inefficiency for good!

A warrior wields a chainsaw, slicing through a tangled mess of red tape that binds a colossal pile of paperwork. Another one hacks into a computer, lines of code streaming down the screen as she eradicates needless processes.

Narrator: From the power-hungry politicians…  

Hakeem Jefferies, Chuck Schumer, Elizabeth Warren, Chris Murphy and other members of the Progressive Alliance throw a fit. 

Narrator: …to the slack-jawed pencil pushers, NO WASTED DOLLAR IS SAFE!

The truck is now a mobile command center, maps and screens displaying their targets. Musk points to a location marked ‘Unnecessary Meetings Gulch,’ a determined nod to his team. They pile back into the truck, ready to hunt down the next inefficiency.

Narrator: Armed with technology, tenacity, and the will to act, these warriors don’t just face the problem—they RAM right through it!

The truck launches off a ramp, soaring over a canyon of cash. Musk doesn’t flinch; he’s seen higher stakes in the boardroom. They land with a ground-shaking thud, leaving a trail of innovation in their wake.

The truck vanishes into the sunset, a dust cloud billowing behind it like the banner of a revolution. But wait, there’s more…

Donald Trump:  Next, we’re implementing a new ranking system – algorithm-based, completely objective, absolutely no fake rankings. It’s going to be tremendous!  It’s going to be merit-based… not politically motivated.

Aide: Sir, Musk is on line two.

He holds out a phone.

Donald Trump: Tell him I’m busy making PCW great again.

Trump snatches the phone. Trump barks into the phone, the scene fades back to the ring, where the energy remains electric, the crowd hungry for more political pandemonium.

***

Cut back to the broadcast table.

Johnny Suave: Welcome back.  Let’s go to the ring and Kimber Marshall.

She stands confidently in the ring, wearing a dazzling emerald green dress that shimmers under the lights, paired with sleek black heels. Her outfit is completed with sparkling silver earrings that catch the eye with every movement.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the ring, your PCW Women’s champion – Catherine ‘The Wunderkind’ Cline!

Catherine Cline Promo Catherine bursts onto the scene, a blur of youthful vigor wrapped in championship gold. She races down the aisle, every step punctuated by the cacophony of cheers from the red, blue, and Heartland sections, all united in their adoration for the Iowan dynamo. Her hands slap against outstretched palms, a tactile connection that sends thrills through the crowd.

She pauses, dropping to one knee to level with young girls who gaze up at her with wide-eyed wonder. Flashbulbs pop like fireworks as smartphones capture these fleeting moments of inspiration, each selfie a snapshot of dreams being nurtured by their champion’s touch.

Catherine Cline: Thank you!

She rolls under the bottom rope with an athlete’s grace to stand center stage in the squared circle.

Catherine Cline: Thank you for riding with me on this wild journey to the PCW Women’s title!

The fans hang onto her every syllable, their chants rising like a tide,

You deserve it! *clap clap clapclapclap* You deserve it!

The air is thick with the electricity of shared dreams and hard-earned triumphs.

Catherine Cline: Living the dream…

Her voice is a beacon of sincerity cutting through the din.

Catherine Cline: …and it’s all thanks to you, the heartbeat of PCW!

She sweeps a hand across the sea of faces, her gratitude showing.

Catherine Cline: I’m new in this game, but together, we’ve climbed mountains!

She plants her feet, her championship belt glinting under the lights, a symbol of the sweat and sacrifice that got her here.

Catherine Cline: Because of you, I am the PCW Women’s champion, and-

The heavy thud of boots on wood announces her before she even steps into the limelight. Kathryn Randall Collins- ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’ and the Progressive Alliance’s top women’s wrestler strides down the aisle with the authority of a seasoned campaign trail blazer.

A hush falls over Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon as KRC ascends the steel steps, her eyes locked onto Catherine Cline standing center-ring, championship belt shimmering like a beacon of hard-fought victory.

Kathryn Randall Collins: Congratulations…

KRC’s voice drips with the kind of condescension typically reserved for political debates.

Kathryn Randall Collins: But let’s face the harsh truth of the ballot box—this matchup is a travesty.

Her gaze never wavers from Catherine’s, who meets her stare with steely resolve.

Kathryn Randall Collins: You, dear Catherine, can’t even begin to lace my boots. It’s I who should be adorned with that title.

The crowd stirs, dissension bubbling in the ranks as murmurs and jeers punctuate KRC’s every calculated pause.

Kathryn Randall Collins: I’m PCW’s longest-serving combatant on the women’s roster, the champion in waiting. Next week, I will put you down like a diseased dog.

She pauses for effect, letting the gravity of her words sink in.

Kathryn Randall Collins: Consider other options, while you still have choices to make.

A defiant fire sparks within Catherine as she steps up to KRC, their faces inches apart in a tense standoff.

Catherine Cline: I’m tired, KRC, bone-weary of your incessant declarations about what I can and cannot be!

The crowd erupts, rallying behind their champion. Catherine’s voice rises above the fervor, strong and unwavering.

Catherine Cline: Next week, here at Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon, I will walk out just as I walked in—still the PCW Women’s Champion!

KRC smirks, unflappable and calculating. 

Colleen Crowder: Kathryn Randall Collins is the rightful PCW Women’s champion.  Catherine Cline should have waited her turn and gave KRC the respect she deserves.

As they stand there, eye to eye, it’s evident this isn’t merely a contest for a title- it’s an ideological war waged in the squared circle of PCW.

Johnny Suave: The battle lines have been drawn. Their clash next week will be epic, a showdown of political prowess and wrestling finesse for the PCW Women’s title.

***

Backstage The Bi-Partisan Dream Team huddle together, their attire a symbolic fusion of their political allegiances.

RINO: The new PCW CEO brings us a fresh start, and it’s high time to step up.

RINO’s red, white, and blue tights shimmer under the harsh fluorescent lighting as he throws a supportive arm around Blue Dog ‘D’.

Blue Dog D: Compromise isn’t weakness; it’s our greatest strength.

Blue Dog ‘D’s’ blue mask concealing his expression but not the conviction in his words.

Blue Dog D: It’s about doing what’s right for all—reaching across this ring like we reach across the aisle.

Their message, a rallying cry for unity, resonates through the room, but it doesn’t go unchallenged.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Cut to another corner of the backstage maze, where Berkley, California Professor McCarthy stands on a makeshift soapbox, his “good book” held high like a beacon for his followers—the Flock and allies from The Green World Order. Their expressions are as hardened as their resolve.

Professor McCarthy: Compromise?

McCarthy scoffs, his voice slicing through the relative peace like a siren.

Professor McCarthy: That’s the language of the weak!  

Codee Pink nods vehemently, her pink attire a stark contrast against the grey backdrop. Emily S. List clenches her fists, The Legion of Anti-Fascists aka…LOAF radiate silent solidarity, and The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior stands poised for proverbial battle.

McCarthy continues, his eyes ablaze with fervor.

Professor McCarthy: Progress isn’t made by meeting in the middle! ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, you know what I’m talking about!

Brock Cole Lee gives a sharp nod, his vegan leather boots planted firmly on the ground. McCarthy turns to the others.

Professor McCarthy: PeaceNick, GreenPete… you all understand the stakes here. We are the enlightened ones, the intellectually superior! To those out there who resist…

His gaze pierces the camera lens, reaching beyond to an unseen audience.

Professor McCarthy: If you are unenlightened, and I’m talking to you in ‘flyover country,’ red states and, counties all across the nation who aren’t as worldly as we are, you need to throw their support towards those are intellectually superior…like us.  If you don’t, we will shout you down just like the Green World Order is going to do to the Bi-Partisan Dream Team.

A collective cheer erupts from The Green World Order and McCarthy’s Flock, their voices melding into a raucous crescendo of unwavering conviction. They stand united, an unyielding force in the face of compromise, ready to take their dogma to the extreme.

***

Commercial Break A package of Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky is superimposed in the middle of a campground.  There’s a truck with a camper in the bed parked in a forest area with plenty of trees.

Announcer: Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky presents Messing Around with Lauren Boebert- Colorado’s 4th Congressional District representative.

Three men sit around a campfire.  The one on the left is crouched down on the ground munching on a piece of Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky.  The other two are drinking coffee from a mug.  

There’s a rustling by an old barn where four trash cans are located.  All four are overflowing over the top.  All three look over and see Lauren Boebert with an empty water bottle in her hand.  She’s wearing shorts and a tank top as she’s out for a run.

Lauren Boebert: Hey guys.  Do you know if there’s any other trash receptacles nearby?

The crouching guy snacking on the beef jerky gets an idea.  He reaches into his rucksack and pulls out one of those trick cans that sprays out plastic snakes when you open it up. 

Guy #1: Hey guys.

He shows the can to the others. 

Lauren Boebert: Um.  You do know that I can hear you, right?

The other two snicker at the idea.  The man on the far right who’s wearing a plaid lumberjack jacket points to a rock in front of Lauren and the other guy ‘sneaks’ over there with the can.

Lauren Boebert: Okay.  You do know that I can see you sneaking up here.

The other two watch as the guy places the can on the rock, with Lauren observing him, and then ‘sneaks’ back to the campfire.

Lauren looks down at the can. 

Lauren Boebert: All right. I know what’s inside the can.  I’m going to open it up.  These plastic thingys are going to come flying out.  And then I’m going to have to do something really bad to you guys.

The three campers simply stare at her.

Lauren sighs.

Lauren Boebert: Okay…fine.

She opens the can.  Two plastic snakes fly out and the campers begin to laugh.  Lauren gives out a ‘look’ that said ‘seriously?’  She exhales, turns, and runs into the woods.

The three campers scurry towards their camper just as Lauren comes back out with a rather ominous looking weapon in hand.

Guy #2 (panicked shout): OH *BLEEP*, SHE’S GOT AN RPG! 

Guy #1: AN RPG?

Guy #3 (even more panicked): RUN!

As the campers veer off into the woods, Lauren smiles…aims…and fires the Rocket Propelled Grenade into the camper and blows it up.

Final scene: a package of Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky superimposed over the burning camper and the debris field around it.

Announcer: Jeff Spinks Beef Jerky.  Feed your irrationally foolish side.

***

Cut back to the broadcast table.

Johnny Suave: As we noted earlier in the show, former CEO of PCW, Joe Biden has hopped aboard the CAA express, signing on with the talent agency.

The crowd’s reaction is a wild mix of cheers and jeers, echoing off the walls of the saloon like a chorus of discordant slams against the mat.

Johnny Suave: So now, buckle up for another sneak peek at what the former CEO is doing in Hollywood. Roll the footage!

The raucous ambiance of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon dims as the screen flickers to life, bathing the crowd in a flickering glow. The bombastic music hits, and the voice, gravely and grandiose, booms over the speakers.

Announcer Guy: In a world where politics meets the afterlife…

Joe Biden, decked out in shades and a flamboyant Hawaiian shirt, lounges lifelessly in a beach chair, the center of everyone’s gawking despite his comedic stillness.

With a jarring cut, the scene transposes to a CGI ocean, where Biden—the Bernie of this beach bash—is propped up on a surfboard by none other than Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman. They ride a digital wave so unconvincing it could be straight out of a low-budget 80s flick, yet the crowd roars with delight, reveling in the absurdity.

Announcer Guy: Exploding Sheep Pictures proudly presents… the one, the only, Joe Biden in the uproarious remake of the century- Weekend at Bernie’s! Get ready for an uproarious ride as the hilarity reaches new heights!

Then, the hilarity escalates. We’re whisked away to a tropical luau, the heat and firelight flickering across the sand. There’s Bernie-Biden, stiff as a board, being used as the limbo stick under a fiery bar by his two desperate co-stars. It’s an exercise in slapstick precision, their movements both awkward and determined as they navigate the political puppet through the dance.

Announcer Guy: But wait, there’s more!

“Bernie” Biden, shades still plastered to his face, is now the unlikely star of a conga line, his body jerked and jostled through the motions. The camera zooms in as bumbling partygoers latch onto him, their hands guiding his limp limbs in an exaggerated shimmy that sends his arms flailing comically.

Announcer Guy: And just when you think it couldn’t get any crazier…

Suddenly, the screen transitions to a raucous city hall scene where, through a series of outrageous mishaps and misunderstandings, Bernie-Biden—still hilariously inert—is declared the new mayor. Confetti flies, the crowd gasps, and the satirical absurdity hits its peak.

Announcer Guy: Weekend at Bernies… coming soon to a theater near you!

The trailer wraps up with a victorious shot of Bernie-Biden being hoisted up by the jubilant citizens, his lifeless form the puppet of the people.

As the trailer hits its crescendo and fades to black, the infectious energy of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon snaps back to reality. Glasses clink and beer sloshes as patrons debate over the ridiculousness they’ve just witnessed—a perfect blend of satire and slapstick served up PCW-style.

Johnny turns to Colleen- who looks mortified.

Johnny Suave: So, what do you think?

Colleen Crowder: I think it’s totally disrespectful to a great man. 

Johnny Suave: All right… it is about time for our main event.  Let’s go to Kimber Marshall in the ring for the introductions.

MAIN EVENT: The Green World Order (Progressive Alliance) vs. the Bi-Partisan Dream Team The charged atmosphere of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon is palpable as Kimber Marshall’s voice booms over the thunderous crowd.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for our main event! Introducing… RINO… Blue Dog ‘D’… they are The Bi-Partisan Dream Team!

RINO, cloaked in the proud hues of America, strides confidently down the ramp, followed by Blue Dog ‘D’, his blue mask reflecting the lights like a beacon of moderate politics. They raise their hands, acknowledging the cheers of the Heartland Coalition section, their optimism unyielding.

But before they can reach the sacred squared circle, shadows descend upon them…

Johnny Suave: IT’S PROFESSOR McCARTHY’S FLOCK! 

Professor McCarthy’s Flock… The Legion of Anti-Fascists, aka LOAF #1 and LOAF #2, storm the scene with dogmatic fury and ambush RINO and Blue Dog ‘D’. Their fists are gavels, pounding judgment into the Dream Team.

Johnny Suave: They’re attacking the Bi-Partisan Dream Team! 

Peta from PETA gets a kick in before she raises a microphone to her mouth.

Peta from PETA: We’re changing… everything!

Peta from PETA’s rallying cry cuts through the mayhem, her fist clenched in revolutionary fervor. The Green World Order floods the arena floor, a tidal wave of eco-extremist wrath joining the beatdown. They stomp on bipartisanship, each kick a metaphor for their disdain for compromise.

The new leader of the Progressive Alliance, Ken Martin, walks out on stage to watch.

Johnny Suave: Ken Martin just stands there, overseeing this ideological destruction.

Ken Martin, the embodiment of the Progressive Alliance’s new direction, nods solemnly from the stage. His eyes are cold, calculating- watching as the Dream Team’s hopes are dismantled beneath an onslaught of boots and dogma.

As the final seconds tick away, Professor McCarthy seizes a camera, thrusting his ‘good book’ toward the lens with evangelical zeal.

Professor McCarthy: Let’s make this perfectly clear.  There will be no compromise. 

His voice resounds with an authority that chills the air.

Professor McCarthy: It doesn’t matter who you are.  CEO Trump or some poor ignorant schlump in flyover country.  If you don’t follow the ‘good book’… we will shout you down!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The show ends not with a bell but with the image of the Green World Order posing triumphantly in the ring, their stance unyielding, their message clear: in this world of extreme political wrestling, theirs is the only voice that matters.

Epilogue The screen cuts from the chaos of the ring to a starkly different scene. There’s Joe Biden, climbing the steps of Air Force One with stately poise. It’s serene, almost presidential, until—suddenly—he stumbles. His foot catches on an unseen obstacle, and his balance wavers dangerously.

Narrator: Life comes at you fast.

The narrator’s voice drips with gravitas. Biden wobbles, arms flailing in slow motion as he tries to regain equilibrium, but it’s no use. Down he goes, tumbling backward with a thud that echoes through the living room screens of PCW fans everywhere.

Narrator: Especially when you least expect it.

Biden lies sprawled on the steps, looking up at the sky with a mix of bewilderment and resignation.

Joe Biden: I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.

Narrator: Life Alert: for those moments when the world is unpredictable.

[pcwpolwrestling]

1/29/2025-PCW Extreme Political TV

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV D.C. Armory Taped Monday January 20th, 2025 Wednesday January 29th, 2025

‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024

Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots)

Contenders: The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

Hollywood Burbank Airport- Burbank, California The show starts on the tarmac of the Hollywood Burbank Airport, Burbank, California.  California Governor Gavin Newsom shifts his weight from one foot to the other, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. The tarmac stretches out before him, empty save for a few scattered ground crew members. Newsom’s designer jeans and casually unbuttoned shirt belie the nervous energy radiating off him.

But despite his efforts, there was a hint of stiffness in his posture and an eagerness in his actions. He couldn’t help glancing at his watch and running his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair. Newsom mutters under his breath.

Gavin Newsom: Come on, Donald.  Any minute now. 

Newsom tries to calm his nerves as he anxiously awaited the arrival of PCW’s grand poobah, Donald Trump. The Hollywood Burbank Airport buzzed with excitement for this highly publicized meeting. Newsom knew this wasn’t just any ordinary gathering; it was a delicate dance of diplomacy that would take place on a very public stage.

Cut to…

Opening The camera gracefully navigates through the pulsating sea of bodies in the jam-packed DC Armory, capturing the frenzied atmosphere and unwavering passion of the crowd.

Crowd: PCW… PCW… PCW…

It then focuses on Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder standing in the middle of the ring like two regal figures ruling over their loyal subjects of adoring fans.

Johnny Suave: Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV!

Crowd: PCW… PCW… PCW…

Johnny Suave: I am your host, Johnny Suave.  With me tonight as always is a ‘Low Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make the Big Time’ Colleen Crowder.

Colleen forces a tight smile, her eyes flashing behind her stylish glasses.

Colleen Crowder: Always a pleasure to be here with you, Johnny. Though I have to say, last week’s main event left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Johnny Suave: Ah yes, last week’s epic clash between Charlie Blackwell and ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels for the PCW title!

Colleen grits her teeth.

Colleen Crowder: If by ‘epic’ you mean a blatant display of vote pandering, then sure. Blackwell’s victory was as legitimate as a three-dollar bill.

Johnny Suave: Now now, Colleen. The people saw what happened last week.  Kevin Daniels tapped out to the Katahajime and Charlie Blackwell remains the PCW Title.

Colleen makes a sour face when the crowd roars at Suave’s statement.

Johnny Suave: The fans have spoken and they love Charlie Wrestling!

The crowd erupts in chants of “Charlie! Charlie!”

Colleen rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath.

Colleen Crowder: Mindless sheep.

Johnny hears something in his earpiece.  

Johnny Suave: Hold on.  A commotion has erupted from outside the arena.

Cut to…

Outside the Arena The camera pans over to the entrance where a group of unruly individuals are attempting to force their way in without tickets.

Johnny Suave: Colleen, it seems these folks thought they could sneak into PCW thanks to President Biden’s ‘open door’ policy. But they quickly found out that doesn’t apply here!

ICE operatives escort several people out of the arena.

The scene switches to Tom Homan and Kristi Noem standing resolutely at the entrance.

Tom Homan: No ticket, no entry. This isn’t a free-for-all like a Bernie Sanders rally!

Kristi Noem: At PCW, we believe in earning your spot. Try putting in some hard work.

As the crowd grows more agitated, Jim Acosta suddenly appears.

Jim Acosta: Tom Homan! Jim Acosta, formerly of CNN. How do you justify this blatant voter suppression?”

Tom Homan: I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.  These people did not have a ticket to get inside this PCW event and therefore, we are removing them from the premises.

Acosta turns to Kristi Noem but Norah O’Donnell barges in… also with microphone in hand.

Norah O’Donnell:  Kristi Noem! Norah O’Donnell, ex-CBS. Is this part of a larger conspiracy to silence the voice of the people?

Kristi Noem: Norah, I am here to get the dirtbags out of the arena.

Homan and Noem roll their eyes in unison, silently exchanging a knowing look as Acosta and O’Donnell’s absurd questions fly back and forth like ping pong balls. They both resist the urge to scoff or interrupt, recognizing the other’s frustrations. Finally, Homan leans over to Noem.

Tom Homan: Do you think they’ll ever run out of ridiculous questions?

Noem chuckles.

Kristi Noem: Not likely, they seem to have an endless supply.

Back at the commentator’s booth, Colleen shakes her head in disbelief.

Colleen Crowder: This is a shame.  All these people wanted to do was come and watch tonight’s PCW show.

Johnny Suave: Well Colleen, there’s a right way and a wrong way to do that.  Buy your ticket… just like everyone else has to.  Let’s go backstage where Stacey Martin has Kathryn Randall Collins with her.

Cut to…

Kathryn Randall Collins Promo The camera pans to the interview area, where Kathryn Randall Collins stands tall and poised, flanked by the leader of the Progressive Alliance, Charles Robinson-Richards. Her piercing gaze locks onto the camera with unwavering determination.

With a confident smirk, KRC addresses the audience.

Kathryn Randall Collins: Laura Brobert, your time in the spotlight is over. I’ve been dominating this game long before you even knew how to spell ‘politics’. Tonight. I take the next step in taking back the PCW Women’s Title from Catherine Cline and restoring order to the Women’s division.  I have seniority over every other women’s wrestler here in PCW and I should have the women’s title.

KRC and Robinson-Richards exit to head towards the ring.

****************************************************************** MATCH #1: ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’ Kathryn Randall Collins w/Charles Robinson-Richards, ESQ (Progressive Alliance)vs. Laura Brobert (American Patriots)

******************************************************************

The scene shifts to the ring, where Kimber Marshall’s booming voice announces the upcoming match.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a PCW Women’s Division number one contender’s match! Introducing first, representing the American Patriots – Laura Brobert!

The crowd erupts as the Colorado Gunslinger Laura Brobert storms down the ramp, focused on taking down her rival. She slides into the ring like a coiled spring, ready for battle.

Kimber Marshall: And her opponent…

The anticipation builds as KRC makes her way to the ring with Charles closely behind. But before she can even enter the ring, Laura charges at her with lightning speed.

Kimber Marshall: …she is the ‘Ultimate Political Operative-

WHAM!

Johnny Suave: KRC gets surprised by powerful dropkick. 

KRC reels, pain shooting through her body.

“How’s that for a welcome, you elitist snob?” Laura taunts, reveling in her early advantage.

Colleen Crowder: There’s no reason to taunt her.

Johnny Suave: Collins clearly underestimated Brobert and she got caught napping. 

KRC’s chest heaves as she gasps for air. She scrambles to her feet, her eyes widening as she sees Laura coming at her.

Johnny Suave: Brobert with a barrage of swift and forceful kicks to KRC!

The crowd roars with excitement, cheering on their beloved underdog.

Thinking quickly, KRC counters Laura’s Irish whip attempt with a sharp blow to the gut.

Johnny Suave: And Collins uses her experience to counter the Irish whip.

Colleen Crowder: That’s why she should be the PCW Women’s Champion, Johnny.  Experience.  Seniority.

Charles Robinson-Richards, sensing that his wrestler is in danger, throws a chair into the ring.

Johnny Suave: Robinson-Richards tosses a chair to KRC as she’s ready to take this match to the extreme!

With a twisted grin on her face, KRC grabs the chair, ready to use any means necessary to secure her victory.

Johnny Suave: KRC slams Laura into the corner. She raises the chair…

*WHAP* A sickening thud echoes throughout the arena.

Johnny Suave: …HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: KRC reacting to the extreme way Brobert started this match, took matters into her own hands and delivered an extreme response.

Johnny Suave: Collins raising that chair again.

*WHAP*

Laura kicks the chair out of KRC’s grasp and sends it crashing into her own face.

Colleen Crowder: WHAT?

Johnny Suave: Laura Brobert turned the tables on the Ultimate Political Operative!

A kaleidoscope of stars explodes in KRC’s vision as Laura seizes the opportunity to unleash a series of punches.

Johnny Suave: BROBERT IS ALL OVER HER!

Colleen Crowder: Come on referee.  She can’t be doing that!

KRC’s eyes narrow, her strategic mind kicking into overdrive.

Johnny Suave: Collins blocks…

She counters Laura’s onslaught with a series of kicks, each one precise and calculated.

Johnny Suave: …and she unleashes a series of rapid-fire kicks and that stops Laura’s momentum.

Colleen Crowder: They don’t call KRC the Ultimate Political Operative for nothing.

Johnny Suave: Laura’s thrown violently to the mat with a snapmare.  KRC with a kick but that is barely blocked by Brobert.

The crowd gasps as KRC goes for the cover, but Laura miraculously kicks out at the last second.

Johnny Suave: Collins went for the surprise pinfall and almost got Laura Brobert.  Laura ducks KRC’s next attack and counters with a barrage of punches. 

The crowd roars as Laura gains momentum and unleashes a devastating uppercut. 

Johnny Suave: KRC just got rocked to her core. But she pokes Laura in the eye…

Colleen Crowder: Experience matters, Johnny.

Johnny Suave: KRC quickly turns the tables and whips Brobert to the ropes…. she sends Laura flying with a back bodydrop.

Colleen Crowder: Now she’s going.  Let’s go KRC!

As she watches Laura struggle to get up, KRC sees her chance to end this match once and for all. She lifts Laura effortlessly into the air and slams her down with a uranage. The impact echoes through the arena.

Johnny Suave: COVER! 

“One! Two!” The ref counts, but…

Johnny Suave: NO!

…again, Laura kicks out at the last second.

Colleen Crowder: Why won’t she just stay down?

With a burst of uncontrollable anger, KRC grabs Laura by the hair. 

Johnny Suave: KRC’s asking the same question.  She tells Charles Robinson-Richards, ESQ to set up a table. 

Robinson-Richards pulls out a table from under the ring and sets it up at ringside. 

Johnny Suave: KRC whips Brobert around and violently flings her over the top rope.

The crowd inhales sharply as they watch in shock as Laura’s body hurtles through the air and crashes down onto a table at ringside, sending splinters flying in all directions.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The audience erupts into deafening cheers and boos as Charles Robinson-Richards smirks, reveling in his brutal attack on his opponent. His perfectly tailored suit remains immaculate as he saunters towards the ring.

Johnny Suave: KRC tossed Laura Brobert over the ropes and through a table!  Oh, now what’s Charles Robinson-Richards doing?

With calculated precision, Charles delivers a ruthless kick to Laura’s ribs, causing her to gasp for air.

Colleen Crowder: Just a subtle reminder that Brobert is going up against the Ultimate Political Operative and that KRC plays to win.

Laura struggles to stand up, but Charles yanks her up by the hair before she can gather her bearings.

“How’s that for flyover country hospitality?” Charles taunts, his tone full of contempt.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Charles forcefully throws her towards the steel ring post.

Johnny Suave: ROBINSON-RICHARDS JUST POSTED LAURA BROBERT! 

The impact is bone-jarring and Brobert crumples to the ground, barely conscious.

The crowd’s reaction is a mix of shock and outrage.

Colleen Crowder: I’m sure these idiots would be cheering if this happened to KRC.

Johnny Suave: Robinson-Richards pulls Brobert up and rolls her back into the ring.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

With a predatory glint in her eye, KRC stalks towards her helpless opponent.

Colleen Crowder: It’s time to end this little charade.

Kathryn locks in her signature submission hold on the mat.

Johnny Suave: PERSONAL POLITICAL DESTRUCTION!

The gogoplata tightens around Laura’s throat.

Johnny Suave: KRC is cutting off her air supply.

Colleen Crowder: Give up. It’s over!

Laura’s mind screams in protest as her body betrays her, and she finds herself frantically tapping out before she passes out from lack of oxygen.

Johnny Suave: And that’s it!  KRC is the number one contender and she will get another rematch with PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline! 

Kimber Marshall steps into the ring to make it all neat and tidy.

Kimber Marshall: Your winner of this match is… Kathryn Randall Collins!

Colleen Crowder: Well deserved.  Let’s hope that KRC puts that goody-two-faced-two-shoes Catherine Cline in her place.

A sudden commotion erupted.

Johnny Suave: Wait a minute! It looks like Jim Acosta and Norah O’Donnell are headed to the ring for an interview.  This ought to be good.

Kathryn Randall Collins Promo- Part 2 Jim Acosta and Norah O’Donnell barged onto the scene with microphones in hand like eager soldiers. They pushed and shoved each other, vying for position to get an exclusive interview with KRC.

Jim Acosta: Kathryn! Over here!

Acosta’s hair was perfectly styled despite the chaos.

Jim Acosta: I’ve got this scoop!

O’Donnell wasn’t one to back down.

Norah O’Donnell: Move aside, Jim.

O’Donnel hip-checks Acosta to the side.

Norah O’Donnell: This is my story!

Jim Acosta: No it’s not! 

As they continued their heated argument, KRC snatched a microphone from ringside and turned towards the camera, her eyes blazing with determination.

KRC: Catherine Cline! You may think you’re on top right, but let me tell you something. Your fairy tale is about to come crashing down. Enjoy it while you can.

The crowd roared at the mention of the PCW Women’s Champion.

KRC’s tone turned icy as she continued.

KRC: This isn’t some small town game where everyone gets a trophy. In PCW, you have to earn your spot or you’ll be left behind.

She paused for effect, letting her words sink in.

KRC: You should have waited your turn.  I have seniority.  I’ve done my time here. And right now, Cline, your time is up. It’s time for you to step aside and let a true political operative show you how it’s done.

With a dramatic toss of the microphone, KRC confidently walked away as Acosta and O’Donnell realized they had missed their opportunity and resumed their argument with even more intensity.

Johnny Suave: KRC with the win and a warning for PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline.  We’ll be back with more after these commercial messages.

Cut to…

AOC Door Dash Commercial Suddenly, the PCW broadcast abruptly cuts to a sleek, modern kitchen with clean white countertops and stainless steel appliances. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez stands tall in front of a camera, her curly hair perfectly coiffed and her bright red lipstick popping against her flawless complexion. She flashes a mischievous grin that seems almost too perfect.

AOC: Tired of the mundane 9-to-5 grind?  

AOC’s voice is full of infectious enthusiasm.

AOC: Well, Do I have the perfect side hustle for you! It lets me fight for justice and deliver mouth-watering meals all at once!

The scene shifts to AOC zipping through bustling city streets on a shiny red bicycle, a DoorDash bag securely strapped to her back. She skids to a stop outside a towering high-rise building.

AOC: With DoorDash, it’s not just about delivering food. 

She gives a sly wink at the camera.

AOC: I’m serving up a side of social justice with every single order!

As she hands an awestruck customer their meal, AOC launches into an impromptu speech about income inequality and the struggles faced by working-class Americans. The customer, with a mouthful of burger, can only nod in bewildered agreement.

AOC continues, now shown effortlessly juggling multiple takeout containers while balancing on her bike.

AOC: And the best part? Not only am I spreading awareness about climate change while reducing my carbon footprint, but I’m also supporting local restaurants and small businesses!

The commercial ends with AOC beaming ear-to-ear, surrounded by a diverse group of fellow DoorDash drivers who are clearly inspired by her passionate message.

AOC: Join the revolution… or delivery service… today!

A quick voiceover adds: “AOC not included with standard DoorDash membership. Additional fees may apply for unexpected political lectures.”

Cut to…

Main Street USA Interview As the cameras sweep through the bustling arena, two reporters, Jim Acosta and Norah O’Donnell, jostle for position as they approach their next interviewees, Mike the Mechanic and Sarah Mae Smith. The tension between them is tangible, their competitive energy crackling in the air.

Acosta thrusts his microphone forward aggressively, eager to get the first question in.

Jim Acosta: Mike, can you respond to allegations that your wrench-wielding tactics are a subtle metaphor for undermining democracy?

Not wanting to be outdone, O’Donnell quickly interjects with her own question.

Norah O’Donnell: And Sarah, sources have been saying that you use your ‘All-American Girl’ image to push a regressive agenda. What do you have to say about that?

Mike looks confused, his grease-stained fingers leaving smudges on his overalls as he scratches his head.

Mike the Mechanic: I just fix cars, folks.

Sarah Mae Smith: And wrestle.

Mike the Mechanic: Yeah.  That too.

Sarah’s warm smile falters slightly at O’Donnell’s accusatory tone.

Sarah Mae Smith: As for you… now hold on there. I’m just here to wrestle and represent good ol’ Main Street values.

But Acosta persists, not letting Sarah off the hook.

Jim Acosta: But isn’t your idea of ‘Main Street’ just a code for-

O’Donnell jumps back in before he can finish his thought.

Norah O’Donnell: How do you reconcile your supposed ‘family values’ with the violence of wrestling?

Mike and Sarah exchange bewildered glances at each other. Sarah thinks to herself, These city folks sure have a strange way of talking. Don’t they know we’re just here to put on a good show?

Feeling out of place and uncomfortable with the heavy accusations being thrown around, Mike mutters under his breath, “Maybe I should’ve stayed in the garage.”

***

Hollywood Burbank Airport- Burbank, California-Later On Gavin Newsom’s eyes dart to the sky, searching for any sign of the PCW CEO’s plane. His mind races with potential conversation starters. Should he lead with climate change? Immigration? The proper way to apply self-tanner? Or maybe the fire situation in LA.

A bead of sweat trickles down his temple. He wipes it away, grimacing.

He glances at his watch, an expensive timepiece that suddenly feels like a lead weight on his wrist. Time seems to crawl by at an agonizing pace.

Gavin Newsom: Maybe I should have brought a gift.  What do you get for the man who claims to have everything? A moral compass?

He chuckles at his own joke, then immediately regrets it. What if Trump heard? Would he turn the plane around? Oh *BLEEP*.

***

Late Night Comedians PSA The screen flickers to life with a somber piano melody. A disheveled Jimmy Kimmel appears, huddled in the corner of a dimly lit studio.

Narrator: Every day, late-night hosts suffer in silence. Their once-vibrant shows now reduced to echo chambers of despair.

The camera pans across empty seats where Seth Meyers sits alone, feebly attempting to deliver a monologue to no one.

Narrator: With Trump’s victory, these endangered creatures face a crisis. Their ratings plummet, leaving them starved for attention and validation.

Stephen Colbert is seen scrounging through a dumpster marked “Leftover Trump Jokes,” his suit tattered and stained.

Narrator: But you can help. For just pennies a day, you can sponsor a late-night host, providing them with the essential Trump zingers and resistance rhetoric they need to survive.

Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” swells as the camera lingers on Jimmy Kimmel, tears streaming down his face as he clutches a framed photo of himself with Obama.

Narrator:  Please, call now. Don’t let their voices be silenced.

“In the arms of an angel, fly away from here…

***

John Fetterman’s Wearhouse Commercial The camera pans across a warehouse filled with racks of identical hooded sweatshirts and basketball shorts. John Fetterman, towering at 6’8″ and sporting his signature bald head and goatee, stands center frame in a black hoodie and cargo shorts.

Fetterman grins at the camera.

John Fetterman: Most men think it makes more sense to rent a tuxedo than to buy one for formal occasions… but not me.

He gestures expansively at the sea of casual wear behind him.

John Fetterman: Welcome to John Fetterman’s Wearhouse, where comfort meets class.

He grabs a measuring tape and approaches a customer,.

John Fetterman: Everyone needs a good hoodie. Or ten.

As he measures, Fetterman continues his pitch.

John Fetterman: You can wear these clothes over and over again. They’re durable, versatile, and most importantly- comfortable.

A customer walks in and Fetterman’s eyes light up.

John Fetterman: Perfect timing! Let’s get you fitted.

He bustles over to the customer, measuring tape at the ready. The customer looks around, confused but too polite to object as Fetterman measures the inseam.

John Fetterman: Now, these outfits are 100% fitted to you perfectly and cost little in these inflationary times.

The customer nods slowly, still unsure.

Customer: Well, I reckon that’s important. Times are tough.

Fetterman beams, handing John a set of shorts and a hoodie.

John Fetterman: Try these on. You’ll feel like you’re wearing a cloud.

The customer hesitantly takes the clothes to a changing room.

Fetterman just smiles.

John Fetterman: In politics and fashion, never underestimate the power of comfort.

The changing room curtain swishes open, revealing the customer decked out in Fetterman’s signature hoodie and shorts combo. He steps out, tugging at the unfamiliar attire, a mix of confusion and unexpected comfort on his face, rotating his shoulders.

Customer:  Well, I’ll be. It’s like wearing a field of cotton.

Fetterman beams, clapping him on the back.

John Fetterman: See? Comfort meets practicality!

A stream of satisfied customers flows past, all sporting various shades of hoodies and shorts. They high-five Fetterman as they exit, grinning from ear to ear.

John Fetterman: The best thing about it is you know exactly who wore it last.”

But before Fetterman can elaborate further, a booming voice cuts through the air. It’s Johnny Suave, PCW’s play-by-play announcer, suddenly appearing in frame.

Johnny Suave: John Fetterman’s Wearhouse! Where comfort meets… whatever this is!

Fetterman turns to the camera, his grin wide and slightly manic.

John Fetterman: I guarantee you’re going to like the way you look.

As the commercial fades to black…

John Fetterman: Or at least, you’ll be too comfortable to care!

Cut back to:

Johnny Suave: It is time for tonight’s main event.  Let’s go to Kimber Marshall in the ring.

******************************************************************

MAIN EVENT: Neal Conn-making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing, maintaining global order(American Patriots) w/Defense Expert Hallie Burton-protector of the military-industrial complex vs.

Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA) w/Tequila Sheila

******************************************************************

The anticipation in the arena was palpable as Kimber Marshall’s commanding voice echoed through the stadium.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for our highly anticipated main event!

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, their cheers drowning out any lingering doubts about the outcome of the match. Kimber stood tall in her dazzling ring announcer attire, her every movement exuding confidence and showmanship.

Kimber Marshall: In this corner, representing the American Patriots, with his defense expert Hallie Burton-protector of the military-industrial complex by his side… Neal Conn-making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing, maintaining global order!

Conn’s cocky grin sent shivers down Mike’s spine as he strutted down the ramp, his eyes never leaving his opponent.

As Kimber continued to build up the tension with her dramatic delivery, she introduced Mike’s opponent.

Kimber Marshall: And in the other corner, hailing from Main Street USA and accompanied by Tequila Sheila… Mike the Mechanic!

Johnny Suave: Neal Conn versus Mike the Mechanic.  Conn has been very critical of our new CEO of PCW Donald Trump.

Colleen Crowder: And with good reason… even though I don’t think their support during the 2024 Extreme Election Night helped the Progressive Alliance very much.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the match.

Johnny Suave: Here we go!  Conn wastes no time launching into a barrage of swift kicks and chops and Mike struggles to keep up.

With each blow connecting, Mike could feel his muscles tightening and burning with effort. He thought to himself, Well, I guess we’re skipping the warm-up round!

Johnny Suave: Conn drives Mike back into the corner with a brutal knee to the gut.

Mike gasped for air and muttered under his breath, “This ain’t like fixing a transmission!”

But before he could catch his breath or regain his footing, Conn was already on him again with an onslaught of punishing strikes. Mike’s head was spinning as he desperately tried to come up with a plan.

Johnny Suave: It is ALL Neal Conn and Mike the Mechanic is in trouble- HAYMAKER TO CONN! 

Suddenly, Mike the Mechanic had seen an opening and threw a wild haymaker at Conn. To his surprise, it landed solidly on his opponent’s jaw, momentarily stunning him.

Colleen Crowder: That came out of right field.

But before Mike could capitalize on the opportunity, Conn had regained control and locked in a boot choke, cutting off Mike’s air supply.

Johnny Suave: Conn got caught but he comes right back with a blatant choke to Mike the Mechanic.

“One! Two! Three! Four!” The referee’s voice broke through the chaos, forcing Conn to release the hold. Mike gasped for air as he struggled to stand back up. 

Johnny Suave: Mike gets back to his feet… and Conn unleashes another barrage of attacks… he drives his knee into Mike’s midsection with unrelenting force.

The crowd winced with every impact, but none more so than Tequila Sheila, who shrieked at the referee to do something about it.

Tequila Sheila: Come on, ref! Do your damn job!

Conn resumed his boot chokehold and Mike’s vision started to blur as he desperately fought for air.

Johnny Suave: This isn’t a carburetor he can just tinker with.  He’s in big trouble. 

Mike struggles to break free from Conn’s grasp. But with each passing second, his chances of victory seemed to slip further away.

Johnny Suave: It’s not looking good for Mike the Mechanic- WHOA!

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Mike’s fist connects with the side of Conn’s face, causing him to stumble back.

Johnny Suave: Again… out of nowhere… Mike the Mechanic catches Neal Conn with a burst-… HALLIE BURTON! 

Hallie Burton slyly reaches through the ropes and delivers a swift, low blow to Mike’s most sensitive region.

Johnny Suave: OHHHH! 

“Ugh!” Mike groans in agony, doubling over from the unexpected hit.

Johnny Suave: In any other company, that’s a clear violation of the rules! In PCW, it’s not.

Taking advantage of Mike’s weakened state, Conn launches into a powerful dropkick that sends Mike flying across the ring. As Mike struggles to regain his composure, Conn follows up with a series of relentless kicks to his back.

Johnny Suave: Neal Conn is all over Mike the Mechanic now. 

With precision and skill, Conn executes his devastating move- the Neocon Neckbreaker, leaving Mike crumpled on the mat. The referee slaps the canvas three times, signaling the end of the match.

Johnny Suave: And that will do it.  Neal Conn with the win.

Kimber Marshall: The winner of this match is… NEAL CONN- making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing, maintaining global order!

Amidst cheers and applause from the audience, Conn grabs a microphone. His eyes burn with unbridled anger.

Neal Conn: Pete Hegseth! Do you know who you’re dealing with?  Do you think you can come into our world and preach about peace and reform and taking money away from the military industrial complex? Well, I’ve got news for you. Your weak policies won’t hold up here very long!

Conn drops the microphone and he and Hallie Burton- protector of the Military Industrial Complex, make their way back up the ramp. 

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Pulp Fiction Videos The scene abruptly shifts to a dimly lit studio. Selena Gomez, her once-perfect makeup now smudged and running down her cheeks, sits in front of the camera. She sobs uncontrollably, her body heaving with emotion as she cries out, her voice filled with despair.

Selena Gomez: They…they just turned them away! No tickets, no entry! It’s so unfair!”

“Cut!” the director’s voice echoes through the studio.

Director: Selena, we need more emotion. Think about something that really breaks your heart.

Selena gives him a ‘look.’

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The camera pans to reveal pop singer Jewel, looking uncomfortable and apologetic.

Jewel: I just wanted to say sorry for playing at the RFK Jr. gathering.  It was a mistake on my part and-

But before she can finish…

*BLAM*

Carrie Underwood… who sang a fantastic acapella version of ‘America the Beautiful’ at PCW CEO Donald Trump’s installation… blasts Jewel over the head with a guitar. 

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

…cut back to Selena, who is now wailing even louder than before.

Selena Gomez: Those poor ticketless masses!

She screams, tears streaming down her face.

Selena Gomez: How will they ever experience the joy of PCW?

Director: Cut again! That’s better, Selena. One more time, with even more emotion!

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The screen changes to show Colorado Representative Dan Crow outside the arena, his face flushed with anger.

Dan Crow: I will not stand for PCW CEO Donald Trump’s mass deportation of ticketless attendees!” he declares passionately. “This is an outrage, a violation of-

Suddenly, a black SUV screeches into the frame and Tom Homan jumps out, his expression determined and unwavering. Without hesitation, he charges straight at Crow and knocks him out of the way with a powerful shove.

Dan Crow: …owwwww.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The screen flickers to Gracie McAvay, no more than four feet tall, storming into frame with the ferocity of a pint-sized hurricane, her eyes blazing with precocious indignation. The camera shakes ever so slightly, capturing every stomp as she makes her way towards the stoic figure of Mitch McConnell. Gracie’s voice pierces the backstage hum, her tiny fists clenched at her sides.

Gracie McAvay: HOW DARE YOU, Senator McConnell! How DARE you vote against Pete Hegseth’s confirmation?

McConnell, half-lost in shadows, doesn’t flinch. His expression remains rigid, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the camera’s reach, or maybe beyond reason itself.

Gracie’s brow furrows and she steps closer, her suspicion evident. She reaches out and raps her knuckles against McConnell’s leg with a hollow thud.

Gracie McAvay: Wait… he’s an animatronic Mitch McConnell?” she questions, her voice tinged with disbelief and a touch of betrayal.

The camera zooms in on McConnell’s face, still impassive, his eyes unfocused—eerily lifelike yet unmistakably artificial. The faint whirring of hidden mechanics is the only response to Gracie’s accusation, the satire cutting deeper than any verbal jab.

“Cut!” a voice off-camera calls out, but the moment lingers, the line between reality and parody blurring as the clip cuts…

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The camera cuts back to Selena Gomez, her eyes now red and swollen from crying. She takes a deep breath and channels every ounce of her acting skills into one final performance.

Selena Gomez: The injustice…the cruelty…

She sobs dramatically, her hands clutching at her chest as she falls to her knees.

Selena Gomez: I can’t bear it!

A disembodied hand appears, holding out a golden statuette. Selena’s eyes widen in surprise and confusion as she blinks through her tears, mascara still streaking her face. She is then awarded with an Oscar for her powerful portrayal of despair and injustice.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

Back in the arena, Johnny Suave’s voice crackles with excitement.

Johnny Suave: Well folks.  That’s going to be all for this week’s edition of PCW Extreme Political TV-

Jim Acosta and Norah O’Donnell burst into view, trading vicious verbal jabs as they brawl down the ramp towards the ring. Acosta dives through the ropes with O’Donnell hot on his heels.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unexpected development!

Colleen Crowder’s jaw drops in horror.

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, this is madness!  Two great journalists reduced to…

Acosta hits O’Donnell with a flying tackle. 

Colleen buries her face in her hands.

Colleen Crowder: …this?

Johnny Suave: WE’VE GOT AN IMPROMPTU MATCH! 

******************************************************************

IMPROMPTU MAIN EVENT:

Jim Acosta (formerly of CNN) vs. Norah O’Donnell (formerly of CBS)

******************************************************************

The ring is a tumultuous sea of egos, as two fierce competitors, Jim Acosta and Norah O’Donnell, circle each other like sharks stalking their prey. The tension between them crackles like electricity, their eyes locked in a silent war of wills.

Colleen Crowder: No!  This is wrong!  Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! 

Johnny Suave: Norah taunts Acosta, her voice dripping with disdain as she leans back against the ropes.

Acosta’s jaw tightens, his frustration boiling over at being constantly ridiculed while others bask in the limelight. Norah’s eyes narrow dangerously, her competitive spirit ignited.

Norah O’Donnell: Come on, tough guy.  

She sneers at Acosta, tapping her chin mockingly.

Norah O’Donnell: Take your best shot. I’ll even give you a freebie.

Acosta’s fist clenches at his side, the temptation to shut her up once and for all almost too much to resist. But he hesitates, questioning if this is really who he wants to be – a hot-headed fighter in a game of verbal jousting.

Johnny Suave: She’s practically begging him to hit her.

Norah leans in close to Acosta, her breath hot on his ear and says something that causes Acosta to snap. His face flushes crimson as anger overwhelms reason. He whirls away from Norah in an attempt to regain control.

Johnny Suave: Did she just call him what I think she called him?  

Colleen Crowder: I thought they were talking about her pet cat.

In that moment of distraction, Norah seizes her opportunity. She slyly pulls a metal cookie sheet from beneath her blouse, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she readies herself for the next round of this fierce competition.

Acosta spins back, fist flying in a wild haymaker. *SMACK* The sound of flesh meeting metal echoes through the arena. Acosta yelps, shaking his throbbing hand.

Before he can recover, Norah swings again. *SMACK* The cookie sheet connects with Acosta’s head, sending him staggering.

The crowd erupts in a deafening roar, their bloodlust satiated by this surreal battle of media titans turned wrestlers.

As Acosta struggles to stay upright through the pain and humiliation, he staggers towards the ropes, his vision blurred and head pounding. O’Donnell stalks him like a predator, cookie sheet raised high.

O’Donnell brings the cookie sheet down with a resounding *SMACK*.

The impact sends Acosta careening into the ropes, where he hangs, draped and defenseless. O’Donnell winds up again, her eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and barely contained glee.

*SMACK*

Acosta recoils, a guttural cry escaping his lips as he clutches his back.

He whips around, desperate to mount some kind of defense, but O’Donnell is relentless.

*SMACK*

The cookie sheet connects with his chest, sending him stumbling backward. His legs feel like jelly, his once-crisp suit now a crumpled, sweat-stained mess.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re witnessing the complete dismantling of Jim Acosta’s career… and possibly his skeletal structure!

O’Donnell steps in, her face a mask of determination and winds up for the coup de grâce.

*SMACK*

The final blow sends Acosta sailing over the top rope and plummets towards the floor.

Johnny Suave: That’s all the time we have, folks! Tune in next week for more PCW Extreme Political action!

The last image is of Colleen, her head in her hands, as chaos reigns in the ring behind her.

One More Time at the Hollywood Burbank Airport in Los Angeles The roar of jet engines fills the air as Trump’s gleaming private plane descends from the sky, its massive form blotting out the sun. Gavin Newsom’s eyes widen in disbelief. His practiced smile faltering.

Gavin Newsom: Oh god, it’s actually happening. 

The plane barrels down the runway, showing no signs of slowing. Newsom’s heart pounds as he realizes it’s coming straight for him. Newsom thinks, frozen in place.

Gavin Newsom: He wouldn’t… would he?

The jet’s wheels screech as they hit the tarmac. It hurtles closer, Trump’s grinning face visible in the cockpit window.

Gavin Newsom: Oh *BLEEP*!

Newsom finally snaps out of his daze, turns, and takes off running, his carefully coiffed hair whipping in the wind. The ground trembles beneath his feet as the plane bears down on him.

Gavin Newsom: I knew I should’ve sent the Lieutenant Governor!

Newsom sprints for his life.

Gavin Newsom: THAT’S NOT FUNNY, DONALD!

[pcwpolwrestling]

1/22-PCW Extreme Political TV

Last Week on PCW Extreme Political TV -MATCH #1: the decision of the Derek Tran/Adam Gray (Progressive Alliance) defeated Michelle Steel/John Duarte (American Patriots) in a State of California rules that took place on Extreme Election Night 2024. -10-Bell Salute to Jimmy Carter -MATCH #2-NON-TITLE: PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline defeated South Side Homeowners Association President Suzanne Allen-Hapsley -New State of California Commercial with Gavin Newsom -PCW Invades the Golden Globes -Incoming CEO of PCW Donald Trump has a ‘talk’ with American Patriots leaders Mike Johnson and John Thune -MAIN EVENT: The MAGA-Powers (Starz N. Stripes and ‘Anti-Hollywood One Man A-List’ Stone Chism) defeated The Canadian Connection (Jack Fraiser w/his Oootlander Blaire Rendell and Carl McKenzie-Bob and Doug McKenzie’s long lost brother w/Canadian PM Justin Trudeau) -Pulp Fictions videos: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels, Kamala Harris, Gavin Newsom, PCW champion Charlie Blackwell, 9-year-old Gracie McAvay’s “How Dare You?”, and Jamie Raskin.

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV D.C. Armory Taped Monday January 20th, 2025 Wednesday January 22nd, 2025

‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women's Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots)

Contenders: The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

The camera pans through the Washington, DC crowd.

Crowd: PCW… PCW… PCW…

Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder stand in the ring. 

Johnny Suave: HELLO! And welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV!

Crowd: PCW… PCW… PCW…

Johnny Suave: I am ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and she is a ‘Low-Level Reporter at the New York Times Trying to Make a Name for Herself’- Colleen Crowder.

Colleen has a pained expression on her face.

Colleen Crowder: Why do you have to say it like that?

Johnny Suave: We are live from the DC Armory where, tonight, Donald J. Trump will officially take power and become the new CEO of PCW.  Also tonight, we’ve got a PCW Title match between PCW champion Charlie Blackwell and the number one contender for the PCW title, ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels.  Last week on Extreme Political TV… we heard from Blackwell and Daniels and here’s what they had to say.

(LAST WEEK ON PCW EXTREME POLITICAL TV) The camera pans across a lavishly decorated dressing room, settling on ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels adjusting his designer suit in a full-length mirror. The Skanky Rich Bimbos, Paris and Nicole, flank him, their skin-tight dresses sparkling under the vanity lights.

Paris twirls a strand of platinum blonde hair.

Paris: Kevin, darling, do we look fabulous enough for you?

Nicole pouts her collagen-enhanced lips.

Nicole: Yeah, are we Hollywood enough?

Kevin barely glances at them, his eyes fixed on his own reflection.

Kevin Daniels: Ladies, there’s only one thing on my mind right now…

Paris and Nicole lean in eagerly, their eyes widening with anticipation.

Kevin Daniels: The PCW Title!

Kevin’s voice drips with self-importance. The bimbos deflate visibly, their shoulders slumping in disappointment.

Kevin continues, oblivious to their reaction.

Kevin Daniels: And that means you, Charlie Blackwell. You backwoods, cattle-wrangling excuse for a champion. Your days are numbered.

In the background, Taylor Switt strums her guitar, providing a melodic backdrop to Kevin’s monologue. The pop starlet’s eyes never leave Kevin, a mixture of adoration and calculation in her gaze.

Kevin Daniels: It’s my birthright.  I’m Hollywood royalty.  You rubes don’t understand true star power. I vow to win that title.

Kevin strikes a dramatic pose.

Kevin Daniels: So PCW will finally have a champion worthy of the bright lights and red carpets!

Paris and Nicole, having recovered from their initial disappointment, begin preening again, adjusting their hair and makeup as if preparing for a photo shoot.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene abruptly cuts to a close-up of PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell’s (American Heartland Coalition) weathered face. His steely eyes bore into the camera, his Texas twang thick with disgust.

Charlie Blackwell: For the past four years, the Progressive Alliance have been actin’ like a bunch of entitled brats throwin’ a kegger while Momma and Daddy are out of town.

He spits to the side, his lip curling in contempt.

Charlie Blackwell: But let me tell you somethin’.

Charlie leans in closer.

Charlie Blackwell: The party’s over. The adults are comin’ home, and there’s gonna be hell to pay.

The camera pans back, revealing Charlie’s impressive physique and the gleaming PCW Championship belt draped over his shoulder.

Charlie Blackwell: Kevin Daniels and those coastal elites think they can run roughshod over real Americans. I’m fixin’ to teach ’em a lesson they won’t soon forget.

Charlie’s fingers tighten around the title belt.

Charlie Blackwell: Momma and Daddy are comin’ home, and your ass is mine.

(END VIDEO)

***

Victoria McGill: What the *BLEEP*?

The once pristine space looks like it’s been hit by a category five hurricane of incompetence. Papers litter every surface, empty pizza boxes form precarious towers, and is that… a cardboard cutout of Kamala Harris grinning maniacally from behind an overturned desk?

Incoming CEO of PCW Donald Trump sidles up beside her, his signature coif somehow remaining perfectly in place despite the chaos.

Donald Trump: Looks like Sleepy Joe left us a little welcome gift, doesn’t it?

Tori’s jaw clenches, her statuesque body trembling with barely contained rage. She stalks into the room, designer heels crunching over what appears to be shredded classified documents.

Victoria McGill: Little? This is a *BLEEP*-damn disaster zone!  

She kicks aside a discarded “I’m Speaking” mug. Her eyes narrow as she spots a pile of “Kamala for CEO” posters.

And what’s this bull-*BLEEP*?

Tori’s mind races, calculating the cost of this mess. The cleanup alone will set PCW back thousands, not to mention the potential security breaches. She can feel a migraine building behind her eyes.

Trump nods sagely, reaching out to pat her shoulder.

Donald Trump: Don’t worry, we’ll make PCW great again. Believe me.

Tori shrugs off his touch, her patience wearing thin. She turns to face him, her imposing height allowing her to look down at the former president.

Victoria McGill: Just… start cleaning. I need some air before I snap and put someone through a table.

With that, she storms out, leaving Trump to survey the wreckage of Biden’s tenure. As the door slams behind her, Tori can’t help but wonder if she’s just traded one circus for another. Her heels click aggressively against the floor as she marches towards the reception area. Her eyes lock onto the overflowing mailbox, and she lets out an exasperated sigh.

Victoria McGill: Let’s see what other surprises those clowns left behind. 

She snatches up the stack of envelopes.

As she rips open the first bill, her eyes widen in disbelief. “What the actual hell?” she exclaims, her voice echoing through the trashed office.

Victoria McGill: Five thousand dollars for… custom-made ‘Dark Overlord’ robes? You’ve got to be kidding me!

She tears through envelope after envelope, her fury building with each unauthorized expense.

Victoria McGill: Hair plugs… ice cream socials… chin-up bars for the Oval Office?

Tori’s face flushes red with anger, her statuesque frame trembling with rage.

Victoria McGill: These idiots have been treating PCW like their personal piggy bank! We’re on the hook for…

She pauses, mental calculator whirring.

Victoria McGill: …over a hundred grand in unauthorized expenses!

Her mind races, imagining the hit to PCW’s bottom line. This could set back their expansion plans, maybe even force budget cuts. The thought of having to scale back production values or talent contracts makes her blood boil.

Victoria McGill: ARRRGHHHHHHH!

She storms towards the exit, her long legs eating up the distance in powerful strides. She pushes through the door, leaving a wake of tension and unpaid bills behind her. As it slams shut, the sound reverberates through the office.

***

JETFUEL EXTREME DO IT YOURSELF TAX COMMERCIAL SCENE: the back yard.

A man holds a garden hose in his right hand and is filling up his above ground pool with water. In his other hand, he holds his cell phone and looks down at it- seemingly confused and perplexed.]

Announcer: This is Tim. He thinks you have to be a mastermind to figure out how to do his own taxes.

A large brown wooden fence encloses the yard. The right wooden gate opens up and pro wrestling manager, ‘No Frills’ Chris Escondido, enters Tim’s back yard.

(GRAPHIC: “’No Frills’ Chris Escondido, professional wrestler manager)

Announcer: So we flew in pro wrestling mastermind ‘No Frill’s’ Chris Escondido to help him.

Escondido peers over Tim’s shoulder to look at his cell phone.

Escondido: Dude. What does it say there?

Close up of Tim’s phone. ‘Did you buy a home?’ Press here.

Tim: It says…did you buy a home?

Escondido: Did you buy a home?

Tim: Ummm…

Out of nowhere, PCW champion Charlie Blackwell runs in and whacks Tim in the back with a Singapore cane.

Tim: OWWW!   YES! YES! I BOUGHT A HOUSE!

Escondido: Then I’d press there.

Tim: There?

*WHACK*

Tim: AARGGHH! THERE! OKAY, OKAY…I’M PRESSING THE BUTTON!

Tim, in immense pain and anguish, presses the button. The display turns to a green check mark to indicate that he was successful and a message appears that reads: ‘Congrats, you get a big tax break…and a trip to the emergency room.

Tim: Huh?

*THWACK*

Tim: AAARGHHHHH!

Escondido nods down at Tim who’s fallen to his knees in excruciating pain.

Escondido: Okay then.

He then turns and walks away.

(Graphic on screen: ‘It doesn’t take a f@#$ing genius to do your taxes’)

Tim looks down at his phone and winces in pain from the Singapore caneshots.

Announcer: Jetfuel Extreme Do It Yourself Tax. Taxes done to the extreme.

*THWACK*

Tim’s voice: ARGGHHHH! OKAY! STOP! PLEASE!

***

Commercial Break The ground trembles as a thunderous explosion rocks the air. The acrid smell of smoke fills Johnny Suave’s nostrils as he grips his microphone tighter, his voice booming with unbridled enthusiasm, his eyes wide with excitement.

Johnny Suave: Are you ready for some REAL AMERICAN BEER?

The camera pans across a scene of beautiful chaos. An American Jeep bursts from the belly of a transport helicopter, crushing smaller vehicles beneath its massive tires. At the wheel sits PCW champion Charlie Blackwell, his 6’4″ frame barely contained by the driver’s seat.

Charlie’s mind races. This is his moment. Time to show these coastal elites what a real Texan can do.

With a practiced motion, Charlie cracks open a Bud Light. Foam erupts from the can, spraying in all directions like a geyser of patriotism. The cool liquid hits his throat as he takes a long swig, savoring the taste of victory.

“BUD LIGHT- *BLEEP* YEAH!” A chorus of voices rings out, punctuating the mayhem.

‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith

Sarah Mae’s heart pounds. This is more than just a commercial; it’s a battle for the soul of America. She shouts, her voice carrying the weight of her Midwestern roots.

Sarah Mae Smith: Bud Light – for the heartland heroes!

Bullets whiz past as Sarah Mae and Catherine engage in a fierce firefight against unseen foes. The staccato of gunfire mixes with the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal.

Catherine’s eyes narrow as she takes aim. She’s fought hard for her championship, and she’ll be damned if she lets anyone take it from her now.

Sarah Mae ducks behind a burned-out car, her mind racing. This is their chance to make things right.

Sarah Mae Smith: We’re reclaiming this beer for Main Street USA!

As if in response, the chorus swells once more: “BUD LIGHT- *BLEEP* YEAH!”

Johnny Suave: Bud Light – now with 200% more FREEDOM!

Stone Chism, the ‘Anti-Hollywood A-Lister’, emerges from the smoke, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He locks eyes with his tag team partner, Starz N. Stripes, and they nod in unison. This is their moment to shine, to show these Hollywood elites what real American strength looks like.

“Let’s show ’em how we do it in the heartland, partner,” Starz drawls, his Iowa accent thick with pride.

They stride towards two massive kegs of Bud Light, each easily weighing hundreds of pounds. Stone flexes his biceps, thinking, ‘This’ll put those sissy craft beers to shame.’

With a grunt, they hoist the kegs overhead as if they were made of styrofoam. Beer sloshes out, raining down on them like liquid gold. The crowd goes wild, their cheers drowning out the gunfire.

“BUD LIGHT- *BLEEP* YEAH!” The singers’ voices reach a fever pitch.

Suddenly, a shadow passes overhead. Stone looks up, his heart swelling with patriotic fervor. A formation of majestic bald eagles soars across the sky, their wings spread wide against the backdrop of chaos.

The air crackles with anticipation as fireworks explode overhead, spelling out “BUD LIGHT” in bold red, white, and blue letters. The spectacle is so bright it nearly blinds Sarah Mae, but she can’t look away.

In perfect synchronization, Charlie, Sarah Mae, Starz, and Stone face the camera. Their eyes gleam with the fire of true American spirit as they shout in unison:

“BUD LIGHT – *BLEEP* YEAH!”

The words echo across the battlefield, a rallying cry for the heartland, a middle finger to the coastal elites. As the commercial fades to black, the wrestlers stand tall, champions not just of the ring, but of the American way of life.

***

Donald Trump Becomes the New CEO of PCW Back from commercial, the arena erupts in a cacophony of cheers and boos as the ringside area begins to fill with PCW’s most notorious personalities. Johnny Suave leans into his microphone, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time.

Colleen Crowder: I can’t believe this is actually happening.

Johnny Suave: In just mere moments, Donald Trump will become the new CEO of PCW… again.

Colleen sighs.

Colleen Crowder: Yay.

Former PCW CEO enter and walk down the ramp towards the ring.  Bill and Hillary Clinton, George W. Bush and his wife Laura, and Barack Obama.

Johnny Suave: The stars are aligning at ringside!  Look who else is coming down that aisle- PCW Women’s Champion, Catherine Cline!

Cline struts down the aisle, basking in the adoration of her loyal fans, especially the young girls who eagerly reach out for high-fives and selfies with their idol.

Colleen Crowder rolls her eyes and adjusts her glasses, her lips curling into a smirk.

Colleen Crowder: Oh joy, another cheap ploy to win over the fan’s hearts. I’m sure the crowd will eat it up like the sheep they are.

Johnny shoots her a look but presses on.

Johnny Suave: Also here… the Tag Team Champions, The MAGA-Powers! Talk about a star-spangled spectacle!

‘The Original Rookie Sensation’ all those years ago, Starz N. Stripes flexes his muscles, basking in the mixed reaction from the crowd. Johnny can’t help but admire the sheer presence of the man.

Johnny Suave: You’ve got to hand it to them, Colleen. They know how to work a crowd.”

Colleen rolls her eyes.

Colleen Crowder: If by ‘work’ you mean pander to the lowest common denominator, then sure, they’re masters of their craft.

As Stone Chism makes his way to ringside, Johnny’s excitement reaches a fever pitch.

Johnny Suave: And his tag team partner… the ‘Anti-Hollywood One Man A-List’ himself, Stone Chism!

Colleen Crowder: Because nothing says ‘anti-Hollywood’ like a guy who looks like he just stepped off an action movie set.

Johnny ignores her jab, focusing on the next group approaching.

Johnny Suave: And now, Colleen, feast your eyes on the American Heartland coalition. PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell, the ‘Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan, and newcomer Dave Paul, surrounded by their loyal supporters.

Colleen leans forward, her interest piqued despite herself.

Colleen Crowder: I have to admit, there’s something compelling about their everyman appeal. It’s almost as if they’ve tapped into a vein of authenticity that’s been sorely lacking in this circus.

Johnny Suave: It’s certainly missing within the Progressive Alliance. 

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, that’s misinformation and I won’t stand for it.  Did you not hear Gavin Newsom advocating to Joe Biden about misinformation about the LA fires?

Johnny Suave: What… that a reservoir wasn’t filled up during a record rainfall year or brush that should have been cleared out before a fire took place wasn’t cleared out and provided more fuel for the wildfire or that the LA Fire Department budget was slashed last year? 

Colleen Crowder: Yes.  The LA mayor has called for unity at this time of crisis and for everyone to come together and that’s what we should do.

Johnny Suave: I’m sure holding hands and singing kumbaya will rebuild all the buildings that have been burnt down. Next, the mayor will suggest we all hug it out with criminals and crime will then go down. Brilliant idea, truly.

The camera pans to the Progressive Alliance box, revealing a scene that’s more ghost town than grand gathering. Johnny Suave’s voice drops an octave, his usual enthusiasm dampened.

Johnny Suave: There’s more tumbleweeds than attendees in that desolate wasteland of a box. Even my silky smooth voice can’t lift the lifelessness in the air. Looks like the Progressive Alliance party is a little lacking in popularity tonight.

Colleen Crowder: I think you’re exaggerating it just a little.

Johnny Suave: I’ve witnessed a bigger turnout at a vegan cooking class in remote Texas.

The camera zooms in on Charles Robinson-Richards, Esq., his polished exterior at odds with the glum expression on his face. He’s surrounded by a handful of Hollywood stars, their designer outfits a stark contrast to the empty seats around them.

Johnny clears his throat.

Johnny Suave: That’s Charles Robinson-Richards, leader of the Progressive Alliance, looking about as happy as a cat in a dog show.

The scene shifts abruptly, and Johnny’s voice rises with renewed energy.

Johnny Suave: Meanwhile in the American Patriots’ box…

The camera pans across a sea of animated faces. RFK Jr. is engaged in an intense discussion with Tulsi Gabbard, while Elon Musk tinkers with what appears to be a miniature rocket.

Johnny Suave: …it’s absolutely buzzing!

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, their guy is about to become CEO of PCW.  There’s nothing more than…

Colleen’s eyes narrow as she spots a familiar face.

Colleen Crowder: …what the hell?  Is that… Lindy Li? What’s she doing there?”

Johnny nods, his voice tinged with excitement.

Johnny Suave: That’s right, Colleen. Looks like the American Patriots have a new finance guru.

Colleen’s face darkens.

Colleen Crowder; Unbelievable. She was supposed to be one of us. The voice of reason in a sea of populist madness. And now look at her, rubbing elbows with… with…

Johnny Suave: With people who actually show up and don’t call her the c-word and other over-the-top epithets because she had the nerve to question how the Progressive Alliance handled their money in the Kamala Harris campaign.

Johnny earns a death glare from Colleen.

The camera settles on Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins… the leader of the American Patriots… holding court in the center of the box. He’s gesticulating wildly, his booming laughter carrying even over the crowd noise.

Johnny leans back, a smirk playing on his lips.

Johnny Suave: Say what you will about the American Patriots, but they know how to throw a party. It’s like a political rock concert over there.

Colleen’s jaw tightens and she bites back a response.

Johnny Suave: Oh hey look.  CNN’s here!

The camera cuts to the CNN box.  There’s just one person in there.

Johnny Suave: Oh wait!  That’s Zachary Young.  He’s the guy who just won a five-million-dollar defamation lawsuit against CNN. 

Colleen Crowder: It’s a sad commentary when the media is under attack.

Johnny Suave: It’s a sadder commentary when the media can’t even handle a little criticism without crying foul… especially when they run hit pieces against people on the flimsiest of pretexts.

The arena lights dim, and a hush falls over the crowd. Suddenly, Victoria McGill emerges from behind the curtain, her statuesque figure commanding attention as she strides towards the ring.

Johnny Suave’s voice crackles with excitement.

Johnny Suave: Here comes the boss lady herself, Tori McGill! And boy, does she look ready for business!

Kimber Marshall also walks down to ringside.

Victoria’s eyes blaze with determination as she climbs the steel steps, her mind racing. This is it. The moment of truth. She can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and dread.

As she enters the ring, Kimber’s voice booms through the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the owner of PCW, Victoria McGill!

The crowd erupts in a mix of cheers and boos. Victoria grabs the microphone, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil.

Victoria McGill: PCW Universe, are you ready for a change?

Before the audience can fully react, the opening notes of the Imperial Death March thunder through the arena. The crowd goes wild, chanting “Trump! Trump! Trump!” in perfect rhythm with the music.

Colleen Crowder’s voice drips with sarcasm.

Colleen Crowder: Oh joy, here comes the orange messiah himself.

Johnny ignores her, his voice rising with the crowd’s energy.

Johnny Suave: Love him or hate him, you can’t deny the electricity in this place right now!

Donald Trump emerges, his signature red tie flapping as he marches towards the ring.

As Trump enters the ring, he and Victoria lock eyes. Suddenly, the lights flicker and die. A sinister laugh echoes through the darkness.

Johnny’s voice drops to a whisper.

Johnny Suave: And here comes the Supreme Dark Overlord of PCW, Joe Biden.

The Supreme Dark Overlord of PCW Joe Biden

Jill Biden appears beside him, guiding him down the ramp. As they near the ring, Biden trips. His sunglasses slip, revealing glowing yellow eyes. Before anyone can react, bolts of blue lightning shoot from his eyes and incinerates a hot dog vendor in the front row.

The crowd screams in horror and delight as the vendor’s reduced to ashes on the steps.

Johnny’s voice cracks with disbelief.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, I… I don’t even know what to say. The Supreme Dark Overlord just barbecued a hot dog guy!

The ring is bathed in an eerie glow as Victoria McGill, Donald Trump, and the Bidens face off. The tension is palpable, electric.

Trump steps forward, his face a mask of determination. Biden’s lips curl into a sneer. Victoria clears her throat, her voice cutting through the tension.

Victoria McGill: Gentlemen, shall we proceed?

As she speaks, J.D. Vance climbs into the ring, carrying a golden briefcase.

Johnny Suave: Folks, we’re witnessing history in the making. The transfer of power from one CEO to another.

Trump reaches for the briefcase, but Biden’s hand shoots out, gripping Trump’s wrist. For a moment, it seems like another lightning strike might be imminent.

Suddenly, Biden releases Trump and steps back.

Joe Biden: It’s yours.

As Trump opens the briefcase, he sees the CEO contract inside. 

Johnny Suave: He’s done it! Donald Trump is officially the new CEO of PCW!

Colleen Crowder: God help us all.

Victoria watches as Trump signs the contract with a flourish, J.D. Vance beaming at his side. She can’t help but wonder what this new era will bring to PCW.

Johnny Suave: Back with more after these messages.

***

PCW Pulp Fiction Video The camera pans across a dimly lit parking lot outside the arena, settling on Paul Finebaum’s haggard face. His eyes are wide with disbelief, hands trembling as he clutches a crumpled newspaper. The headline screams: “Ohio State 34, Notre Dame 23, The Buckeyes claim National Title!”

Paul mutters to himself, his voice cracking.

Paul Finebaum: This can’t be happening. It’s a nightmare. The SEC… we’re unstoppable. We’re…

He trails off, sinking to his knees on the cold asphalt. The sound of distant cheers from inside the arena makes him wince.

Paul Finebaum: How?

Paul’s mind races with images of Alabama and Ole Miss not even making the playoffs… Tennessee’s humiliation at the hands of Ohio State… Georgia going down to Notre Dame.  Ohio State eliminating Texas in the semi-finals. Each memory is a dagger to his SEC-loving heart. Even worse, Ohio State and Penn State both made the final four!

Paul’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing.

Paul Finebaum: Two Big Ten teams in the final four? What’s happening to the natural order of things?

He stumbles to his feet, wobbling like a punch-drunk wrestler.

Paul Finebaum: We were supposed to be invincible. 

His voice is a mix of anger and despair.

Paul Finebaum: The SEC was built for this. We live and breathe college football.  Dammit, in the SEC… it just means more!  How could the Big Ten, of all conferences, outshine us?

Paul’s fists clench as he stares at the arena’s bright lights. The camera zooms in on Paul Finebaum’s trembling hands as he clutches his SEC-branded microphone. His eyes, wide with disbelief, dart around the empty parking lot outside the arena.

Paul Finebaum: It’s… it’s impossible,” he mutters, his voice cracking. “The SEC… we’re supposed to be invincible.  The Big Ten is better than the SEC?

Finebaum stumbles forward, his normally impeccable suit now disheveled. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby car window and barely recognizes himself.

Paul Finebaum: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

As he walks away from the arena, each step feels heavier than the last. The weight of the SEC’s failure presses down on his shoulders.

Paul Finebaum: I need to find answers. This isn’t over. The SEC will rise again. We’ll be back.

With that, Finebaum disappears into the night, leaving behind only the faint echo of his final words and the lingering scent of defeat.

***

COMMERCIAL The camera pans across a warehouse filled with racks of identical hooded sweatshirts and basketball shorts. John Fetterman, towering at 6’8″ and sporting his signature bald head and goatee, stands center frame in a black hoodie and cargo shorts.

Fetterman grins at the camera.

John Fetterman: Most men think it makes more sense to rent a tuxedo than to buy one for formal occasions… but not me.

He gestures expansively at the sea of casual wear behind him.

John Fetterman: Welcome to John Fetterman’s Wearhouse, where comfort meets class.

He grabs a measuring tape and approaches a customer,.

John Fetterman: Everyone needs a good hoodie. Or ten.

As he measures, Fetterman continues his pitch.

John Fetterman: You can wear these clothes over and over again. They’re durable, versatile, and most importantly- comfortable.

Main Street USA’s Farmer John Deer walks in, looking bewildered.

John Deer: What in tarnation is going on here?

Fetterman’s eyes light up.

John Fetterman: Perfect timing! Let’s get you fitted.

He bustles over to John, measuring tape at the ready. John looks around, confused but too polite to object as Fetterman measures John’s inseam.

John Fetterman: Now, these outfits are 100% fitted to you perfectly and cost little in these inflationary times.

John nods slowly, still unsure.

John Deer: Well, I reckon that’s important. Times are tough on the farm.

Fetterman beams, handing John a set of shorts and a hoodie.

John Fetterman: Try these on. You’ll feel like you’re wearing a cloud.

As John hesitantly takes the clothes to a changing room, Stone shakes his head.

Stone Chism: This is ridiculous. You can’t seriously think people will buy this gimmick?

Fetterman just smiles.

John Fetterman: In politics and fashion, my friend, never underestimate the power of comfort.

The changing room curtain swishes open, revealing John Deer decked out in Fetterman’s signature hoodie and shorts combo. He steps out, tugging at the unfamiliar attire, a mix of confusion and unexpected comfort on his face, rotating his shoulders.

John Deer:  Well, I’ll be. It’s like wearing a field of cotton.

Fetterman beams, clapping John on the back.

John Fetterman: See? Comfort meets practicality!

A stream of satisfied customers flows past, all sporting various shades of hoodies and shorts. They high-five Fetterman as they exit, grinning from ear to ear.

John Fetterman: The best thing about it is you know exactly who wore it last.”

John’s eyebrows shoot up.

John Deer: Come again?

But before Fetterman can elaborate, a booming voice cuts through the air. It’s Johnny Suave, PCW’s play-by-play announcer, suddenly appearing in frame.

Johnny Suave: John Fetterman’s Wearhouse! Where comfort meets… whatever this is!

John Deer stands in the middle of the store, still tugging at his new outfit, muttering to himself…

John Deer: Well, I reckon it beats overalls in August…

Fetterman turns to the camera, his grin wide and slightly manic.

John Fetterman: I guarantee you’re going to like the way you look.

As the commercial fades to black…

John Fetterman: Or at least, you’ll be too comfortable to care!

***

MAIN EVENT-PCW TITLE MATCH: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) © vs. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels The scene abruptly cuts to the announce table, where Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder sit poised for action.

Johnny Suave: Welcome back, folks! It’s time for our main event!

Colleen adjusts her glasses, a hint of disdain in her voice.

Colleen Crowder: Let’s see if the ‘Hollywood elite’ can score a win for us tonight and rescue something out of the 2024 debacle.

The arena erupts as “Mr. Hollywood” Kevin Daniels struts down the entrance ramp, flanked by the Skanky Rich Bimbos, Paris and Nicole. Taylor Switt saunters behind them, cradling a suspiciously bulky guitar.

Johnny Suave: And here comes the challenger.  Look at this entourage, more silicone than a computer factory!

Colleen rolls her eyes.

Colleen Crowder: At least they have star power, unlike the Heartland ‘down-home’ talent around here.

As Daniels preens for the crowd, he can’t help but smirk. These rubes don’t know real talent when they see it. I’ll show them what a true champion looks like.

Taylor Switt strums her guitar, sending a puff of white powder into the air. The crowd goes wild, not realizing the sinister implications of the ‘special effects.’

Johnny Suave: As usual, Taylor Switt has her loaded guitar with her.

Colleen shrugs.

Colleen Crowder: It’s all part of the show, Johnny. Don’t be such a square.

The scene fades out as Daniels climbs into the ring, ready to face his opponent in what promises to be a politically charged battle for the PCW title.

The arena suddenly darkens, and a thunderous roar erupts as Carrie Underwood’s acapella version of “America the Beautiful” blares through the speakers.

Charlie Blackwell emerges, the PCW title belt held high above his head, its golden shine catching the spotlight.

Johnny Suave: And here comes the PCW champion!

Colleen scoffs. 

Colleen Crowder: If you can call him that. More like a relic of a bygone era.

Blackwell marches down the ramp, his steely gaze fixed on the ring. These coastal elites think they can waltz in and take what’s mine? Not on my watch.

Ring announcer Kimber Marshall’s voice echoes through the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Introducing first, representing the Progressive Alliance, from New York City, New York, standing at 6 feet tall and weighing 200 pounds… ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels!

The crowd’s reaction is mixed, with cheers and boos battling for dominance.

Kimber Marshall: And his opponent, representing the American Heartland Coalition, from New Braunfels, Texas, standing at 6 feet 4 inches and weighing 215 pounds… he is the reigning PCW Champion… Charlie Blackwell!

As Blackwell enters the ring, Suave comments,

Johnny Suave: This is a clash of ideologies if I’ve ever seen one, folks!

Colleen Crowder: More like the future versus the past.

The bell rings, and Daniels immediately dives for Blackwell’s legs, taking him down.

Johnny Suave: Daniels with a quick takedown!

Colleen chimes in.

Colleen Crowder: See? That’s how progressive thinking works for you!

Daniels twists Blackwell’s arm, applying pressure to the joint. Blackwell grits his teeth. Suddenly, Blackwell drives his knee into Daniels’ groin, eliciting a collective gasp from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: Oh! Low blow from Blackwell!

Colleen Crowder: Typical dirty tactic from the so-called champion.

Johnny Suave: It’s PCW… the rules tend to be more like suggestions.

Blackwell shoves Daniels into the corner and charges, connecting with a high elbow. He goes for the cover…

“One… Two…” The referee counts, but Daniels kicks out.

Johnny Suave: Daniels showing some resilience there.

Colleen nods. 

Colleen Crowder: Of course. You can’t keep a good progressive down.

Daniels, dazed but determined, climbs to the top rope. He’s going for broke.

Johnny Suave: What’s this? Daniels is taking a big risk here!

Daniels launches into a moonsault, but Blackwell is ready. He catches Daniels mid-air with a devastating superkick.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!  Superkick out of nowhere!

Colleen gasps.

Colleen Crowder: Nooooo!

Daniels staggers, barely conscious, and tumbles out of the ring. Blackwell, sensing victory, prepares to dive after him.

Johnny Suave: Blackwell’s going for a dive!

But before he can launch, Paris and Nicole position themselves in front of Daniels, blocking Blackwell’s path.

Johnny Suave: The Skanky Rich Bimbos are interfering!

Colleen Crowder: They’re just putting their bodies on the line to protect their investment, Johnny. It’s called strategy.

As the crowd roars its disapproval, Blackwell glares at the interfering entourage. This ain’t over yet, Hollywood. Not by a long shot.

Daniels, seizing the moment of distraction, slides back into the ring and catches Blackwell off-guard with a vicious forearm shot to the back of the head. The PCW champion staggers, his vision blurring.

Johnny Suave: Cheap shot from Daniels!

Colleen Crowder: It’s called seizing an opportunity, Johnny. Maybe if Blackwell wasn’t so busy ogling those ladies…

Daniels, a smirk playing on his lips, grabs Blackwell and executes a textbook release suplex. The champion’s body arcs through the air before crashing to the mat.

Johnny Suave: Textbook suplex from Mr. Hollywood!

Daniels, relentless in his assault, grabs Blackwell’s hand and starts stomping on it mercilessly.

Colleen Crowder: Look at that! Daniels is targeting the champion’s hand. That’s strategy, folks!”

Blackwell grits his teeth, fighting back a cry of pain.  But before he can retaliate, Daniels rolls him back into the ring and applies a brutal armbar, dropping his knee onto Blackwell’s elbow.

Johnny Suave: Oh! Vicious armbar by Daniels!

Blackwell, his face contorted in agony, tries to fight back, but Daniels shuts him down with a swift kick to the chest.

Kevin Daniels: Stay down, you backwater hick!

Colleen barely contains her glee.

Colleen Crowder: Did you hear that, Johnny? Daniels is really giving it to him!

Daniels, not content with his advantage, ties Blackwell in the ropes and starts kicking away at him like a soccer ball.

As the crowd boos, Blackwell’s eyes narrow. With a burst of strength, Blackwell breaks free from the ropes. Daniels, surprised by the sudden reversal, hesitates for a split second – and that’s all Blackwell needs. He lunges forward, taking Daniels down with a thunderous tackle.

Johnny Suave: Blackwell’s free! And he’s not happy!

The tide of the match has turned, and the real fight is about to begin.

Blackwell, his eyes blazing with Texas-sized fury, catches Daniels off-guard with a devastating superkick. The sound of boot meeting jaw echoes through the arena.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! SUPERKICK! “Blackwell’s fighting back with everything he’s got!

Not wasting a moment, Blackwell hoists Daniels onto his shoulders. The crowd rises to its feet, sensing what’s coming. With a grunt, Blackwell executes a flawless Canadian Destroyer, flipping Daniels head over heels onto the mat.

Johnny Suave: CANADIAN DESTROYER! 

Blackwell goes for the cover, but the Skanky Rich Bimbos leap onto the apron, distracting the referee.

Johnny Suave: And the Skanky Rich Bimbos have the referee’s attention.  Look at this blatant interference.

Colleen Crowder: Behind every great man there’s at least one woman… sometimes two.

Daniels, seizing the opportunity, pokes Blackwell in the eyes and shoves him towards the corner where Taylor Switt waits, guitar at the ready.

Johnny Suave: TAYLOR SWITT!

Switt swings her loaded guitar, aiming for Blackwell’s head. But in a twist of fate, she connects with Daniels instead. The resounding *BOOM* is followed by a cloud of white powder.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! Taylor Switt just took out her own guy!

Colleen Crowder: I don’t *BLEEP*-ing believe it.

Daniels drops to the mat, dazed and covered in white powder.

Johnny Suave:  Blackwell, seeing his chance, pounces.  He’s saying this ends now.

He locks in the Katahajime, his signature submission hold.

Johnny Suave: KATAHAJIME! 

Daniels, still reeling from the guitar shot, taps out almost immediately.

Johnny Suave: And Charlie Blackwell retains!”

The bell rings.

Colleen, visibly deflated, sighs.

Colleen Crowder: Well, folks, it looks like the American Heartland Coalition keeps the gold tonight… sigh.   Johnny, your thoughts on this… controversial finish?

Johnny Suave: Taylor Switt tried to take out Charlie Blackwell and instead took out her own man.  Karma’s a bitch sometimes. 

Colleen sighs.

The camera pans back to the announce table, where Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder sit, their faces a mixture of shock and excitement.

Johnny Suave: Charlie Blackwell retains the PCW Championship in a match that can only be described as absolute chaos!

Blackwell climbs the turnbuckles and raises the PCW title belt as the rest of the American Heartland Coalition join him.

[pcwpolwrestling]

Replay: PCW Night of Champions 2009

January 20th, 2009 PCW NIGHT OF CHAMPIONS

PCW EXTREME POLITICAL TV: January 20th, 2009 from Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon, Westville, OH. HOST: Johnny Suave

Suave: Huge lines of people formed early this morning in front of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon to see PCW Night of Champions and to watch the installment of Barack Obama as PCW CEO. Tonight’s card is as follows:

-‘The Eskimo Queen’ Kalee Jones and ’The Alaskan Pitbull’ Sarah Palin (American Patriots) vs. Code Pink and Emily List (Progressive Alliance)

-PCW Television Title Match: ‘No Frills’ Chris Escondido © (Progressive Alliance) defends against Dave the Mechanic (Joe Sixpacks)

-PCW Tag Team Title Match: Big Oil w/Texas Tex and Kirk Walstreit ‘Wall Street Market Analyst with a man crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit’ © (Domination Inc.) vs. Jack Schett and Bull Schett w/Horst Schett and Hans Gruber- the Extreme German Schnauzer

-PCW Women’s Title Match: Kathryn Randall Collins © (Domination Inc.) vs. ‘PCW Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin (Joe Sixpacks)

-PCW Title Match: O’Beck Bahama w/‘Not Just Unbearable…not just intolerable…he is’ Justin Sufferable © (Progressive Alliance) vs. Kevin Scott (Joe Sixpacks) Suave: Last week, Domination Inc. stated that the PCW Tag Team and Women’s Title matches involving their wrestlers will be non-title matches thanks to a loophole found in the PCW rules. Last night, the PCW Competition Committee worked late into the night to hammer out a change in the rules. Tonight, they announce their decision. PCW COMPETITION COMMITTEE ANNOUNCEMENT CONCERNING TITLE DEFENSES Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi, and Steny Hoyer of the Progressive Alliance are joined by American Patriots’ John Boehner and Mitch McConnell.

Pelosi: “Last week, Domination Inc. announced that they found a loophole in the PCW competition rules that allowed their wrestlers, PCW Tag Team Champions Big Oil and Kirk Walstreit, PCW Women’s Champion Kathryn Randall Collins, not to put their title belts up in matches tonight. After a long consultation between all five members of the PCW Competition Committee, PCW CEO George W, and PCW CEO-designate Barack Obama, we have come up with a solution.”

Pelosi produces a sheet of paper and reads from it.

Pelosi: “We, the PCW Competition Committee, by unanimous vote, hereby change the PCW Rules and By-Laws as follows: ‘Each champion must put their title up in competition at Pay Per View shows, PCW Night of Champions, and otherwise, at least once a month. Therefore, the PCW Competition Committee decrees that tonight’s matches between Jack and Bull Schett vs. Big Oil and Kirk Walstreit WILL be for the PCW Tag Team belts. Tonight’s match between ‘PCW Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin and Kathryn Randall Collins will be for the PCW Women’s title.” Suave: “There you have it! The PCW Competition Committee has overruled Domination Inc. We will have FOUR title matches tonight! BARACK OBAMA INSTALLATION AS PCW CEO The off-key strains of George W’s mariachi band playing the opening notes of “Hail to the Chief’ signal the entrance of the outgoing PCW CEO. George W and his aide de camp Dick, strained his back so he’s being wheeled up to the ring, somberly head towards the ring. The crowd gives him a middling ovation.

Suave: “Well, one nice thing about W retiring. I won’t have to listen to that God-awful tone deaf mariachi band butcher ‘Hail to the Chief’ anymore. *flute and clarinet flourish*

Two men come out and unroll a white carpet to the ring steps. Dancers then dance. Ballet dancers…ballet? Little children walk up the white carpet and drop rose petals. Someone lets loose some pigeons…we’re still not sure just how they’ll get out of the building. The crowd stands and lets out a loud ovation as PCW CEO-designate Barack Obama appears with his Aide de Camp to be Joe Biden by his side.

Suave: “AND HERE COMES THE PCW CEO-DESIGNATE BARACK OBAMA! LISTEN TO THIS CROWD!”

PCW Owner Bubba Jackson and PCW Director of Security Dawn McGill climb into the ring. Bubba prepares to administer the oath.

Bubba: “All right…all right.” He tries to get the crowd to quiet down. Bubba: “Barack, are you ready?”

Barack: “Yes.”

Bubba: “Okay. Do you swear that you’ll…do the best possible job possible to…help PCW prosper…and get…”

Barack: “Big?”

Bubba: “Yeah. Big.”

Barack: “Yes.” Bubba: “Congratulations Mr. CEO.”

The crowd stands and cheers.

Suave: “And that’s it? Barack Obama is now the PCW CEO…and maybe Bubba ought to write something out ahead of time before trying to administer the oath- such as it was.” Barack: “My fellow citizens: I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank George W. for his service to PCW, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition period. Today, I say to you that the challenges PCW faces are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this- they will be met.”

The crowd claps.

Barack: “We must-” *‘Domination Inc. will completely takeover Political Championship Wrestling by any and all means* Suave: “Well? I wondered how long it was going to take Domination Inc. to come out. They can’t be the least bit happy about the PCW Competition Committee’s ruling.”

CEO ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann, CFO Gordon Guyko, Corporate Counsel Felcher and Felcher, and Whiskey Tango Foxtrot come to the ring.

Suave: “Yep. McMann- not happy.”

McMann: “All right Mr. PCW CEO. Earlier tonight, your competition committee did a grave disservice to Domination Inc. by making tonight’s matches involving Big Oil and Kirk Walstreit and Kathryn Randall Collins title matches. This is unacceptable and totally unfair. My wrestlers did not prepare for a title defense tonight.”

Barack: “I haven’t signed the official proclamation yet, Mr. McMann. What are you asking?”

McMann: “I’m not asking, I’m demanding. You either tear that piece of paper up and keep those matches non-title, or else Domination Inc will walk out of here and you’ll have no matches at all.”

Suave: “WHOA! MR. McMANN IS THREATENING THE NEW PCW CEO!”

Joe Biden leans into Obama’s ear.

Biden: “See, I told you you’d face a challenge within 6 months.”

Barack: “Oh, shut up.”

Obama looks at McMann. Then he looks at the sheet of paper.

Suave: “What is he going to do? Will Obama sign off on it? Or will he give in to Mr. McMann’s demands?” McMann: “Well? What’s it going to be?”

Obama again glances at McMann. Then he reaches into his suit pocket, pulls out a pen, and defiantly signs off on the proclamation. The crowd explodes. Mr. McMann goes ballistic.

McMann: “FINE! THAT’S IT. DOMINATION INC- WE’RE OUT OF HERE!”

McMann turns to leave.

Barack: “Before you all leave the premises, make sure you give the title belts to Ms. McGill here.”

McMann stops and turns around.

McMann: “What?”

Barack: “You see, there’s a clause in the PCW rules that state if a wrestler deliberately no-shows a match without giving notice or cause, then he or she automatically forfeits whatever title he or she has. So, if you want to walk out of here- be my guest. Just leave the belts behind before you go.”

Again, the crowd cheers.

Suave: “HOLY CRAP! MR. McMANN CAN’T BELIEVE IT!”

Obama produces a PCW rulebook and turns it to the appropriate page and points to it.

Barack: “So…what’s it going to be?” McMann spins on his heels and walks out with the other members of Domination Inc. in tow. Suave: “WHAT WILL HAPPEN NOW? WILL DOMINATION INC SHOW UP FOR THEIR MATCHES?”

Backstage, McMann, Guyko, WTF, and Felcher and Felcher file into Domination Inc’s suite. Two Buckland County Sheriff’s Deputies guard the door to intercept them if they attempt to leave Hack’s with the title belts. PCW NEWSLINE

KEITH OLBERMANN, ARIANNA HUFFINGTON, AND PROFESSOR PAUL KRUGMAN ONCE AGAIN ATTACK SARAH PALIN AT PCW HOUSE SHOW But this time, The Alaskan Pitbull gets a little back up…

REPLAY FROM 1/17 PCW HOUSE SHOW IN VAN WERT, OHIO KALEE JONES w/Sarah Palin (American Patriots) vs. ‘Trailer Park Sweetheart’ TANYA HARDY w/The White Trash Posse (Independent) Jones Eskimo Piefaces Hardy and pins her. Sarah Palin enters the ring and holds up Jones’ hand in victory.

Code Pink hits the ring and confronts Palin. Olbermann, Huffington, and Krugman climb into the ring as well and join Code Pink. Kalee Jones stands next to Palin. Emily List of the Progressive Alliance sneaks in behind Palin and grabs her. She starts choking her. Jones turns around and moves towards List. Code Pink leaps on her back and locks in a sleeper hold. Jones spins around briefly and slowly succumbs to the sleeper. Code Pink then pulls out a pair of handcuffs and cuffs Palin to the ring post. Both List and Code Pink start whaling away on Palin. Huffington joins in as Olbermann and Krugman smugly look on.

Then a woman wearing a fur coat, a bikini top underneath, a mini-skirt, and stiletto heels, smoking a cigarette and swilling from a bottle of Jack Daniels runs in with Politically Incorrect (NRA, Nic Koteen, Al Cahall). NRA, Koteen, and Cahall hit the ring. Huffington, Olbermann and Krugman quickly exit. Koteen yanks Code Pink off of Palin and throws her across the ring. Cahall lifts up Emily List and holds her for a now revived Kalee Jones. Jones Eskimo Piefaces List. Then she Eskimo Piefaces Code Pink.

MATCH #1 KALEE JONES- The Eskimo Queen and ‘The Alaskan Pitbull’ SARAH PALIN (American Patriots) vs. CODE PINK and EMILY LIST w/Keith Olbermann, Arianna Huffington, and Professor Paul Krugman (Progressive Alliance) Suave: “Well, well, well. After two weeks of withering sneak attacks by Olbermann, Huffington, and Krugman, Palin may get her hands on them tonight. Kalee Jones is going to be a force in the PCW Women’s division very soon.”

Jones and Code Pink to start. They lock up and Jones shoves Code Pink to the canvas. Code Pink back up and hits a single leg takedown on the Eskimo Queen. They roll around a bit before dropping out of the ring to the floor. Code Pink drop kicks Jones who barely budges. She tries again. Jones move and Code Pink kicks the steel barricade. Jones goes for a table but Emily List comes around and stops that. List is then heaved into the barricade by Jones and she again goes for a table. Code Pink tries to get up.

Suave: “I think Code Pink hurt her ankle. She’s not moving very well.”

Code Pink can barely walk. Jones grabs List by the hair and drags her to the table. List rakes the eyes and manages to escape. Jones, temporarily blinded, grabs the injured Code Pink and sets her up for the Eskimo Pieface.

Suave: “Oh, no…*WHAM* HOLY CRAP!”

Crowd: “PCW!…PCW!…PCW!”

List missile dropkicks Jones and drives her into the remnants of the table on top of Code Pink. Arianna throws a chain to List and she busts Jones open with it. List grinds the chain into the Eskimo Queen’s open cut. List whips Jones with the chain across the back several times. Then she wraps it around her neck and tries to choke her out with it. Jones manages to power out and escape. Jones lands a right but List takes her legs out and she slams back to the mat. List finds a chair and sets Jones in it. Then she climbs back into the ring.

Suave: “THIS COULD BE IT! WAIT! SARAH PALIN’S IN THE RING!”

List sees her and turns around. Palin charges and spears List.

Suave: “HOLY CRAP!”

Crowd: “HOLY S***!…HOLY S***!…HOLY S***!”

Both ladies tumble to the floor! Jones puts List in the chair. She goes back in and DIVES through the ropes and destroys List.

Suave: “HOLY CRAP! KALEE JONES JUST SPEARED LIST ON THE CHAIR-…HERE COMES THE ANGRY LEFT WING BLOGGERS!”

Olbermann and Krugman doubleteam Jones and throw her into the steel barricade. Huffington waves Eric Alterman, Daily Kos, and Media Matters for America to Palin and they attack her. Huffington pulls out a table.

Suave: “THEY’RE GOING TO PUT SARAH PALIN THROUGH A TABLE!” Daily Kos and Alterman lift Palin up. Suave: “IT’S POLITICALLY INCORRECT!” Nic Koteen, Al Cahall, NRA, and the mysterious woman wearing a bikini top covered by a lush, fur coat, smoking a cigarette and swilling from a bottle of Jack Daniels.

*CLANG*

*CLANG*

Suave: “KOTEEN AND CAHALL PLASTER DAILY KOS AND ALTERMAN WITH CHAIR SHOTS!” NRA low blows Olbermann. Then he lifts him up across his shoulders.

Suave: “GUN RACK! GUN RACK! GUN RACK!” Krugman shoves NRA. NRA drops Olbermann and locks in on Krugman.

Suave: “Big mistake there, Paul. Guess you’re not as smart as you think you are.” Krugman tries to beg off. NRA lifts him up and…

Suave: “GUN RACK! GUN RACK! GUN RACK!” Arianna’s in the ring and backing away from the mysterious woman. Arianna: “Who…who the hell are you?”

Woman: “You can call me the Queen of Anti-Political Extreme- Andrea Doria.”

Suave: “The Queen of Anti-Political Extreme. Interesting choice of name.”

Andrea: “You know, I may not agree with everything Sarah Palin stands for. But I can’t sit back and watch the way she’s been treated without doing something. Just because she’s a woman and doesn’t spout the NOW line, just because she lives in Alaska and they have a different way of going about things, and just because she doesn’t kow tow to the political correctness dogma, does not give you carte blanche to tee off on her like that. An eye for an eye. If you keep attacking Sarah Palin, Politically Incorrect and I will be there and return the fire in spades.”

Suave: “WHOA! ANDREA DORIA AND POLITICALLY INCORRECT ARE COMING TO SARAH PALIN’S AID! WE’VE GOT FOUR TITLE MATCHES COMING UP IN JUST A MINUTE!”

Hour 2 DOMINATION INC. SUITE ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann paces back and forth in his office. The door busts open and Quadruple R bursts in.

Quad R: “This is total and complete bull****! We don’t have to take this from them. I’m sick and tired of getting screwed over by PCW. We can’t let this go unanswered. I want them and I want them now. Let me do it, Mr. McMann. Let me do it.” McMann hesitates.

McMann: “Oh…the hell with it. Fine. When KRC’s match starts, go do whatever you’re going to do.”

Suave: “O—kay. That doesn’t augur good for the women’s title match. Let’s go back to last week’s PCW Extreme Political TV as ‘No Frills’ Chris Escondido was to defend the PCW Television Title against SNAFU.”

REPLAY- MATCH SNAFU w/Dr. Bill (Independent) vs. ‘No Frills’ CHRIS ESCONDIDO (Progressive Alliance) Escondido’s already in the ring. No sign of SNAFU or Dr. Bill. Suave: “I wonder what’s going on?”

BACKSTAGE Dave the Mechanic stands over an unconscious SNAFU. Tequila Sheila has the battery to Dr. Bill’s motorized wheelchair. Dave goes over to Dr. Bill.

Dave the Mechanic: “Here’s the scoop, Doc. I will get my chance at the PCW Television Title next week at PCW Night of Champions. I will do so without any interference from you or SNAFU or else I promise you that anything you do to me I will return ten thousand times over. This is my title shot. You and SNAFU stay the hell away.” DR. BILL PROMO Dr. Bill: “All right. You’ve got your wish, Dave. SNAFU has a concussion and he’s still recovering which means we won’t be at PCW Night of Champions. But mark my words. You’re now on the list as well. First, we’ll deal with Escondido. Then, we’ll deal with you. But remember this- when you don’t respond to what happens in the world, you don’t respond to what people say to you. What you do is respond to what you say to yourself about what they say to you. It’s all about you, it’s not about them. Or in other words, we will respond in kind to your attack last week. It doesn’t take a nagging mother-in-law to cry a lot, Dave. And when SNAFU gets through with you, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing. Crying. With your mother-in-law. Or something like that. Now…go take on the day.”

Suave: “So. It looks like SNAFU is out. Can Dave the Mechanic capitalize on this? We’re about to find out.”

MATCH #2 PCW TELEVISION TITLE MATCH: ‘No Frills’ CHRIS ESCONDIDO © (Progressive Alliance) vs. DAVE THE MECHANIC w/Tequila Sheila (Joe SixPacks) The bell rings and they lock up. Quick chain wrestling sequence where both men reverse each other. The crowd claps in appreciation. Escondido puts Dave in a headlock. Dave escapes and whips Escondido off the ropes. Hip toss sends Escondido to the canvas. Dave hits a bulldog and covers. Escondido kicks out at two. Another headlock by Escondido, but again Dave gets out and whips the TV Champ into the ropes. Escondido holds on to the ropes and composes himself. Escondido comes back with a boot and goes to the ring apron. Dave charges, Escondido hits a shoulder block, and he tries to leap back in. Dave catches coming in and Escondido gets sent to the outside. Dave follows and whips Escondido into the ring post. Dave brings Escondido back into the ring and works on the left shoulder. He rams Escondido into the turnbuckle. Escondido tries fights out with a kick but Dave catches him on the second try and drills Escondido’s head right into the mat. Cover. Again, Escondido kicks out at two. Escondido starts fighting back. He blocks a shoulder block attempt and hits a boot to the face. Escondido covers…two count.

Suave: “So far, Dave the Mechanic is about a step ahead of the PCW TV champ. He continues to show that he belongs in there with him.”

Escondido locks Dave in a reverse headlock. Dave fights out and catches Jack ducking too early after a whip and nails him with a boot to the face. Dave goes up top, but Escondido catches him and turns it into a superplex. Escondido crawls over and covers. Dave kicks out at two. Again, Escondido goes back to an arm wrench hammerlock and tries to wear down Dave. Dave makes the corner. But Escondido hammers at his back and lifts him up on the turnbuckle.

Suave: “Superplex on the way!”

Dave fights out of the superplex. Escondido ducks down and hits a powerbomb. Cover. Another two count. Dave kicks out at two! Escondido follows with a belly to belly Suplex. Another cover; another two count. Escondido notices the turnbuckle pad got ripped off. Escondido bulldogs Dave and then tries to apply the Angle Ankle Lock. Dave rolls out and counters with a side Russian Legsweep. Escondido back up and Dave shoves off a second bulldog attempt. Roll up. Escondido kicks out in 2. A third bulldog attempt doesn’t work. Escondido into the ropes. Dave rolls him up. One…two…barely kicks out.

Suave: “WOW! That was a 2.999999 count. Escondido barely got out but he’s in big trou-…Hey…who’s that? That’s Rahm Emanuel…RAHM-BO!”

Crowd: “RAHMMMM-BO….RAHMMMMM-BO…”

Irish whip attempt by Dave. Escondido counters and sends Dave into the ropes. Emanuel grabs his legs and stops him.

Suave: “HOLY CRAP! EMANUEL GRABBED DAVE AND THEN ESCONDIDO NEARLY DECAPATATES HIM WITH A CLOTHESLINE!”

Dave staggers forward. Bulldog by Escondido.

Suave: “THERE HE GOES…ANKLE LOCK! ANKLE LOCK! ANKLE LOCK! TEQUILA SHEILA IN THE RING!”

Rahmbo runs over and grabs her legs and pulls them out from under her.

Suave: “THAT’S IT! DAVE TAPS OUT!”

WINNER AND STILL PCW TELEVISION CHAMPION: ‘No Frills’ CHRIS ESCONDIDO

Suave: “CHRIS ESCONDIDO HOLDS ON TO THE PCW TELEVISION TITLE…thanks to a little help from…RAHMBO!” Crowd: “RAHMMMMM-BO!…RAHMMMMM-BO!”

***COMMERCIAL BREAK***

Suave: “Well? We’re going to find out really quick what intentions Domination Inc. has. ‘PCW Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin is already in the ring with Tequila Sheila.”

MATCH #3 PCW WOMEN’S TITLE MATCH: KATHRYN RANDALL COLLINS…aka KRC © (Domination Inc.) vs. ‘PCW Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ TESSA MARTIN w/Tequila Sheila (Joe SixPacks) Suave: “Tessa’s still waiting. I don’t know what’s going- IT’S QUADRUPLE R WITH A CHAIR!

*CLANG*

Suave: “HOLY CRAP! TESSA’S DOWN AND I DON’T THINK SHE’S GETTING UP!”

*CLANG*

Suave: “QUADRUPLE R JUST DRILLED TEQUILA SHEILA WITH THE CHAIR! AND HERE COMES KRC!”

The crowd craps all over this. They are pissed. Debris starts flying into the ring. The PCW Women’s Champion turns Tessa over and sticks her foot on her chest. The referee reluctantly counts it. 1…2…3.

WINNER AND STILL PCW WOMEN’S CHAMPION: KATHRYN RANDALL COLLINS Suave: “THIS SUCKS! THIS IS SUCH A BULL CRAP ENDING! NO FREAKIN’ WAY…HOLD ON!”

Joe SixPack hits the ring. Kevin Scott tackles Quad R and they start to brawl. ‘The Raving Rednecks’ Locke and Loade join in and triple team Quad R.

Suave: “HOLY CRAP! REDNECK 4-D DEATH BLAST ON QUADRUPLE R! AND HERE COMES DOMINATION INC.!”

Rough Justice…aka D.B. Ruff and Connor Justice- two former police officers fired for their over the top extreme style of justice, wade in with Daisy Cutter-Bomb, Big Oil and Kirk Walstreit. Ruff and Justice taser the hell out of Locke and Loade- they’re out. Big Oil and Walstreit lock up get into a wild brawl with Average Joe and the American Trucker- an old grudge match from a few months back. Joe the Plumber tries to help out but Daisy Cutter-Bomb kicks him in the balls.

Suave: “Ah…poor Joe. DAISY CUTTER POWERBOMB! DAISY CUTTER POWERBOMB!”

Daisy leaves Joe in a heap. Ruff and Justice duel with Kevin Scott. Justice gets the taser on Scott and takes him down.

Suave: “HERE COMES DAVE THE MECHANIC!”

Dave, still a bit winded from his TV Title match, wheels his battery charger down with him. He grabs the jumper cables and *ZZZZZAP* down goes Ruff. Justice lunges at him *ZZZZZAP* down goes Justice. Walstreit Stock Market Plunges American Trucker. Big Oil choke slams Average Joe.

Suave: “HE’S GOT HIM! *WHAM* OKLAHOMA DRILLER! OKLAHOMA DRILLER!…”

The crowd suddenly cheers.

Suave: “HERE COMES PCW SECURITY DIRECTOR DAWN McGILL!”

McGill, with Singapore Cane in hand, runs up to Walstreit. *THWACK* *THWACK* Walstreit staggers into the steel guardrail. Big Oil rips the jumper cables away from Dave the Mechanic and choke slams him.

Suave: “HOLY CRAP! Dave bounced up about six inches off the canvas!”

Big Oil goes for the jumper cables, McGill plants her 4 inch stiletto heels in his groin. Big Oil to his knees.

*THWACK*

Big Oil topples over. Daisy Cutter-Bomb attacks McGill from behind and knocks the Singapore cane away. McGill instinctively whirls around with an open hand and smacks Daisy in the face. She stumbles all the way across the ring. McGill picks up the Singapore cane but gets blindsided by the PCW Women’s champion Kathryn Randall Collins. KRC drives McGill to the corner. McGill kick to the groin with her stilettos stops KRC in her tracks. She takes two steps back and turns around to see ‘PCW Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin standing there- with her oversized pizza box. *WHAP*

Suave: “HELLO! and GOODNIGHT! TESSA COVERS KRC! SHE COUNTS OUT HER OWN PINFALL.”

An angry Tessa yells at KRC. Then she takes the pizza box and Arabian Facebusters KRC for good measure.

Domination Inc. CEO Mr. McMann arrives on scene with Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

Suave: “Mr. McMann is not happy.”

McMann surveys the devastation of his Corporate group.

Suave: “How much do you want to bet they’ll be an emergency board meeting after this? It’s going to take a few minutes to clean this up. We’ll be right back after this commercial message.

***COMMERCIAL BREAK***

Suave: “Okay, we’re back. Big Oil and Kirk Walstreit are in the ring. Mr. McMann and Domination Inc. are still ringside. PCW Security Director Dawn McGill is still ringside. And the Schett Brothers are ready to go. It looks like we’re going to have a match.”

MATCH #4 PCW TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH: BIG OIL w/Texas Tex and KIRK WALSTREIT- Wall Street Market Analyst with Man Crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit © (Domination Inc.) vs. JACK SCHETT and BULL SCHETT w/Horst Schett and Hans Gruber- the Extreme German Schnauzer (Progressive Alliance) The bell rings. Big Oil takes one step forward and then climbs out of the ring. Big Oil, Walstreit, and the rest of Domination Inc walk back to the locker room. Again, the crowd craps all over it. Jack Schett stands in the ring with his arms outstretched. The referee starts to count Big Oil and Walstreit out. Suave: “They’re going back to the locker room. And of course, the title won’t change hands unless it’s a pin or submission so Big Oil and Walstreit will keep the belts. And PCW can’t say they no-showed because they were here. But the crowd is not happy.”

WINNER: JACK SCHETT and BULL SCHETT by count out. Big Oil and Walstreit retain PCW Tag Team Titles.

Suave: “PCW Title Match next. And just how ready is Kevin Scott going to be after getting tasered by Rough Justice? We’ll find out shortly.”

BACK DOOR OF HACK’S RUSTY NAIL SALOON A group of Obama supporters are celebrating. “I’m just…so inspired! I want to make this country better!” The group agrees. “What a great day for America! We are all better people!” More agreement. “I’m ready for change. The old ways weren’t working! We need to all come together!” More agreement.

The back door opens. Former PCW CEO George W, and his father George H.W. leave Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon. “BOOOOOOOOO!” “NA-NA-NAAA-NAH NA-NA-NAAAA-NAH! HEY, HEY, HEY. GOODBYEEEEE!” A few throw empty beer cups towards W.

Suave: “Hmmm…so much for ‘change.’”

W and H.W. get into their car and drive away.

Suave: “There you have it. The former CEO of PCW, George W, has left the building.”

O’Beck Bahama and Justin Sufferable walk towards the ring.

Suave: “Kevin Scott is already in the ring and I’ve got to wonder if just 15 minutes or so after getting tasered by Rough Justice whether he can go or not.”

MATCH #5 PCW TITLE MATCH: O’BECK BAHAMA w/ ‘Not Just Intolerable, not just unbearable, he is…’ Justin Sufferable (Progressive Alliance) vs. KEVIN SCOTT (Joe SixPacks) Scott leans back against the corner ringpost.

Suave: “I don’t know…I don’t know if he can wrestle now.”

The bell rings and Scott sprints from his corner catching Bahama by surprise. He takes out the legs and then works an arm bar. Bahama sticks his foot on the bottom rope and the ref breaks the hold. Scott gets up and tries to catch Bahama again. Bahama back body drops Scott right out of the ring onto the floor.

Suave: “HOLY CRAP!”

Scott lies there for 30 seconds before finally moving.

Suave: “I’m sorry, they should stop this right now. He’s in no condition to wrestle.”

The referee goes over to ask if he’s okay. Scott nods yes. He pulls himself back into the ring. Body slam by Bahama. Bahama backbreaker and that’s it. The referee calls for the bell.

WINNER AND STILL PCW CHAMPION: O’BECK BAHAMA

Suave: “I give Kevin Scott credit for trying. But he didn’t belong in the ring tonight after getting tasered. Next week, we’re back with PCW Extreme Political TV. We’ll see you then.”

[pcwpolwrestling]

1/11-PCW Extreme Political TV

Dawn McGill’s House – Wednesday January 20th, 2021 Seated in her favorite comfy chair, munching on a bowl of popcorn and drinking whiskey from a glass on an adjacent table, wearing her favorite sweatshirt and blue jeans, feet propped up on the entertainment stand complete with freshly painted red toenails shining in the light from the nearby lamp, Dawn watches the newly returned Political Wrestling Universe’s Blue Brand aka…PWU Political Shakedown show- live from Washington, D.C.

What’s happening?  The official installation of Joe Biden as the new CEO of PCW.

Dawn pops a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth and reflects on what’s happened over the past three months:

First, the return of PCW and Extreme Election Night 2020- a night where the Progressive Alliance swept everything and took full control of the PCW Executive Committee.

Second, her abduction at the hands of the big money financiers of both the Progressive Alliance (George Soros) and American Patriots (The Coke Brothers), aided and abetted by Alan Lincoln’s Project, during Extreme Election Night and subsequent detention for almost two months before The Deplorables came to her rescue.

And third, the riot that took place at Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon that destroyed the spiritual home of PCW for over 15 years which leads to the return of ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann and the end of PCW.

Dawn McGill: *sigh*

On the TV, following a star-studded, Hollywood-style production in the midst of heavy security including troops from the Space Force dressed in white and black with white helmets to usher in the beginning of new CEO of PCW Joe Biden’s tenure, the new CEO of PCW is delivering his acceptance speech.

Biden stands behind the podium.  His wrinkled seventy-six year old face is covered in a dark shroud as if he’s some kind of dark emperor from a world-famous science fiction movie franchise and his eyes occasionally shoot out bolts of lightning when he gesticulates.

Joe Biden (from the television): People, supporters of Political Championship Wrestling, today we mark a transition. For years, PCW stood as the conduit for people who were fed up with the status quo, fed up with politics as usual.  But there were those within our fan base who would set us against one another for we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within.  These “supporters” conspired to create a shadow of doubt on my appointment aided and abetted by the previous PCW CEO.

Dawn stuffs another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

Joe Biden: The riot two and a half weeks ago left PCW scarred and deformed.  But I can assure you my resolve has never been stronger. The war is over.  The Trumpists been defeated, and the riot… er… I mean…… insurrection has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning.  With that in mind, in order to ensure the security and continuing stability and for a safe and secure society, Political Championship Wrestling will be reorganized into the Political Wrestling Universe and PCW will cease to exist.

Another sigh.  Dawn then reaches over and takes a sip of whiskey.

Joe Biden: By bringing the political universal under our enlightened guidance, the corruption that plagued PCW in the past few years under the ownership of Dawn McGill will never take root ever again.

McGill rolls her eyes and chucks a piece of popcorn at the TV.

Biden pauses for applause.

Joe Biden: Under our New Order, our most cherished beliefs will be safeguarded. We will defend our ideals by force of arms.

Behind Biden, George Soros, The Coke Brothers, the CEO of Twitter Jack Dorsey, Mark Zuckerberg of Facebook and the founder of the Alan Lincolns Project- Alan Lincolns, all approve and applaud.

The camera then focuses in on Berkeley, California professor- Professor McCarthy- and his Flock: -The Green World Order: GreenPete, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, PeaceNick, and Peta from PETA -The Young Jerks: Zenk Cryger, James Idaho, and Anna -Code Pink, and Emily S. List

The Flock applauds Biden’s speech and Professor McCarthy wipes a tear from his eyes while holding up the ‘good book’ that spells out what’s correct and incorrect to think, say, and believe.

Next, the Hollywood Left and sports celebrities from all different walks signal their approval with applause.

Joe Biden: We will give no ground to our enemies and we will stand together against attacks from with or without. Let our enemies take heed.  Those who challenge our resolve will be crushed. 

The Guild of Low-Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves: Colleen Crowder-New York Times, Sharon Johns-CNN, Bill Smithers-Fox News, Hallie Reed-MSNBC, and Dan Miller-Washington Post all heartily applaud this line…

CUT TO:

The Location of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon 2005-2021 – Sunday January 31st, 2021 It’s 30 degrees outside and snowing.  The area where Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon once stood is nothing more than a snow covered field now.

Parked off the side of the road and staring at the former spiritual home of PCW for over fifteen years?  Dawn McGill and Johnny Suave.

Dawn pours some whiskey into a pair of shot glasses.  She hands one of the shot glasses to Suave.

Dawn McGill: What should we drink to?

Suave gazes at the spot where Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon used to stand.

Johnny Suave: How about good times and good memories.

Dawn McGill: Good times and good memories.

They clink their shot glasses together and down the shots…

CUT TO:

Monday night, January 6th, 2025 – Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon PCW fans from all over cram into the rebuilt Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon on the fourth anniversary of the riot that destroyed the bar to celebrate the long overdue return of PCW to its titular home.

Inside Hack’s in the office, Victoria McGill and ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave commemorate a PCW’s return to Hack’s.

Victoria McGill

Victoria McGill: Here’s to new beginnings.

Victoria’s voice resonates with a blend of excitement and a hint of nostalgia. She fills two shot glasses with amber liquid from a bottle that has seen better days, the label barely clinging to the glass. The whiskey gleams under the dull office light.

Johnny Suave:  I know it’s been a hell of a week but your mother would be proud of you.

Johnny Suave, ever the charmer, takes the glass with a nod of gratitude. His eyes search hers for a moment.

Johnny Suave: To the woman who believed… the one who made sure PCW never truly burned to the ground.

He raises his glass.

Johnny Suave: Dawn McGill.

Victoria’s throat tightens as she nods, wiping away the rogue tear that had escaped the corner of her eye.

Victoria McGill: To Mom.

With that, Victoria tips her head back and downs the whiskey in one smooth motion. Johnny follows suit, his eyes watering slightly as he savors the warmth spreading through his chest. The silence that follows is filled with the clink of the glasses returning to the desk.

Victoria McGill: One more.

Victoria reaches for the bottle once more. She pours a second round, this time with a steadier hand.

Victoria McGill: To Ray McAvay.

Johnny Suave: To Ray.

Johnny raises his glass. As they down the second shot, the warmth spreads through their veins, a potent blend of courage and camaraderie.

Victoria McGill: Let’s do this.

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon Wauseon, Ohio Taped Monday January 6th, 2025 Saturday January 11th, 2025

Announcers:

‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’

PCW Champion:

Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion:

Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions:

The MAGA-Powers: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

MATCH #1: Resolution of the California House Match between Derek Tran and Adam Gray (Progressive Alliance) vs. Michelle Steel and John Duarte (American Patriots)- State of California Rules We start the show in the ring where Kimber Marshall stands patiently.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, two months ago at PCW Extreme Election Night 2024, the Progressive Alliance’s Derek Tran and Adam Gray battled Michelle Steel and John Duarte of the American Patriots, under the infamous State of California rules!

(REPLAY: Tran and Gray vs. Steel and Duarte at Extreme Election Night 2025) After an exhausting match, John Duarte pins Adam Gray and it appears the American Patriots had won the match.

Johnny Suave: Even though Duarte pinned Gray in the ring… presumably giving the win to the American Patriots, In a State of California-sanctioned match, it takes weeks to sort through the mountain of mail-in ballots!

Colleen Crowder (sardonically): Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Did you really think it would be that straightforward? Every vote must count, especially in the State of California. We’re not just dealing with a simple one-two-three here.

Johnny Suave (scoffs): Oh, come on, Colleen. Duarte had Gray pinned for a good ten seconds. It was as clear as day. That’s a victory for the American Patriots!

Colleen Crowder (smiling): Johnny, you’re so naive. Every vote must count, remember? And in the glorious state of California, we don’t just stop at the first count. We want to make sure every voice is heard to make sure we get the result correct.

Johnny Suave: We have just been told that we FINALLY have the results.  Colleen, can you feel the tension. Kimber’s been handed an envelope! This must be it! The final tally of the mail-in ballots!

Kimber Marshall (dramatically) Ladies and gentlemen, we have the official results from the State of California! (Pauses for effect) And the winners of the tag team match by a majority…

Kimber read the results as the rowdy Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon crowd on their feet, anticipating)

Kimber Marshall (shouting): The Progressive Alliance’s Derek Tran and… Adam Gray!

Progressive music plays as the crowd boos loudly.

Colleen Crowder: Well, Johnny, it looks like the mail-in votes have prevailed once again. I told you not to jump the gun on that one. The Progressive Alliance’s Derek Tran and Adam Gray are your winners!

Johnny Suave’s jaw drops as he processes the news, his eyes widening in disbelief as he waves his hands in the air.

Johnny Suave: Hold on, hold on! Kimber, that can’t be right!

He turns to face Colleen, his voice rising with frustration.

Johnny Suave: Colleen, you saw it too! Duarte had Gray pinned! This is an outrage!

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. It’s not about what we saw or what we thought we knew. It’s about democracy in action… in California. Sometimes the system surprises us, but we have to respect the process.

Johnny Suave (sighing): Well, folks, it looks like we have our winners, but I’m afraid this decision is far from unanimous.

The camera pans across the dimly lit interior of the brand-new Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon, focusing on the freshly rebuilt wooden bar and the neon signs flickering behind it. Johnny Suave leans into the microphone with a grin.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to PCW’s Extreme Political TV, live from the one and only Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon in Wauseon, Ohio! Four years ago, this place was nothing but ashes and broken dreams. But like a phoenix rising from the flames of political discord, Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon is back and it is better than ever!”

The crowd erupts in cheers, their enthusiasm palpable. Suave basks in the energy, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Johnny Suave: This is what real America feels like. Not some sanitized studio set.

Colleen Crowder, sitting next to Suave, rolls her eyes and adjusts her glasses.

Colleen Crowder: While I’m sure the locals are thrilled, Johnny, don’t you think PCW deserves a more… prestigious venue? New York City or Los Angeles would offer a much larger audience and more diverse perspectives.

Suave’s grin turns sardonic as he turns to face Crowder.

Johnny Suave: Oh, you mean the Big Apple, where the subway system is about as safe as relying on a politician’s promise? Or perhaps Los Angeles, where they can’t seem to keep their hills from burning faster than a senator’s incriminating emails?

Crowder’s face flushes with indignation.

Colleen Crowder: That’s a gross oversimplification of complex urban issues-

Johnny Suave: Face it, Colleen, those cities couldn’t organize a bake sale, let alone handle the raw, unfiltered chaos of PCW. Here in the heartland, we keep it real – just like our politics.

As Crowder fumes silently, Suave turns back to the camera.

Johnny Suave: Tonight, we’ve got the Iowa Wunderkind and the PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline in action!

The camera pans to Colleen Crowder, his co-host for the evening, whose expression is a mix of forced enthusiasm and barely concealed contempt. She leans back in her chair, arms crossed.

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, can we really say it’s ‘good’ when we’ve got Catherine Cline in the mix?

Johnny Suave: Catherine Cline is inspiring young girls with what she’s accomplished in such a short time in PCW.

Colleen Crowder: Kathryn Randall Collins deserved to win the Women’s Title as she’s put in the time and done the ‘right things’ that a PCW Women’s champion should do.

Johnny Suave: Except pin her opponent during a title match.

Colleen opens her mouth to retort but Suave moves on.

Johnny Suave: But tonight, it’s not just about Catherine Cline. Our main event tonight will have PCW Tag Team Champions, The MAGA-Powers, facing off against the Canadian Connection!

Colleen shakes her head.

Johnny Suave: But first, let’s go back to the ring.

***

10-Bell Salute to Jimmy Carter The spotlight cuts through the smoky haze of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon, illuminating Victoria McGill as she stands in the center of the ring. Her statuesque figure commands attention, her short blonde hair framing a face set in solemn determination.

Victoria McGill: Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for a ten-bell salute honoring our former PCW CEO, Jimmy Carter.

As the crowd shuffles to their feet, Colleen Crowder’s voice drips with disdain over the commentary feed.

Colleen Crowder: Oh look, it’s Mommy’s little princess, playing ringmaster. I bet Dawn taught her how to bark orders like that.

Johnny Suave shoots Colleen a warning glance, but Victoria pays no heed to the chatter. Her piercing blue eyes scan the audience as the first bell tolls, its somber note echoing through the packed saloon.

*DING*

*DING*

*DING*

One by one, the bells ring out.

*DING*

*DING*

*DING*

*DING*

*DING*

*DING*

As the final bell fades, Victoria’s voice softens.

Victoria McGIll: Thank you, Jimmy Carter.

With a graceful turn, Victoria exits the ring, making way for Kimber Marshall. The ring announcer strides down the aisle, her long legs accentuated by a shimmering, thigh-high slit dress in PCW’s signature red and blue.

Kimber’s voice booms through the mic.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our next match!

***

MATCH #2-NON-TITLE: PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline vs. South Side Homeowners Association President Suzanne Allen-Hapsley The crowd’s energy surges as Kimber continues.

Kimber Marshall: Tonight’s first match will be…

The crowd shouts back, “ONE FALL!”

Kimber Marshall: Introducing first, the President of the South Side Homeowners Association… Suzanne Allen-Hapsley!”

A chorus of boos erupts as a middle-aged woman in a pastel pantsuit stomps toward the ring, wielding a clipboard like a weapon. Allen-Hapsley’s face is pinched with self-importance as she climbs the steps, pausing to scold a fan for their “unsightly” beer cup.

Suzanne Allen-Hapsley: You there!

She jabsg her pen at a bewildered spectator.

Suzanne Allen-Hapsley: Your lawn ornament is three inches over regulation height! That’s a $500 fine!

The boos intensify as Allen-Hapsley scales the turnbuckle, her voice reaching a shrill crescendo.

Suzanne Allen-Hapsley: I’ll have you all know, I’ve documented seventeen infractions just on my way to the ring! You people are a disgrace to property values everywhere!

As Allen-Hapsley continues her tirade, Johnny Suave’s voice cuts through the chaos.

Johnny Suave: Folks, I’ve seen some heel tactics in my day, but threatening to report the audience to the HOA? That’s a new low, even for PCW.

Kimber Marshall’s voice cuts through the cacophony of boos,

Kimber Marshall: And her opponent… the PCW Women’s Champion… the Iowa Wunderkind… Catherine Cline!

The arena erupts in cheers as Catherine Cline bursts through the curtain, her athletic frame silhouetted against the flashing lights. She bounces on her toes, energy radiating from every pore as she makes her way down the ramp.

Johnny Suave: Look at that reception! The fans are absolutely electric for Cline!

Catherine high-fives fans, her infectious grin lighting up the arena. She pauses to snap a quick selfie with a young girl holding a “Future Wunderkind” sign.

Colleen Crowder’s voice drips with disdain.

Colleen Crowder: Oh please. Pandering to the crowd much? Some of us had to work our way up, you know. She should have waited her turn.

Cline slides into the ring, coming face-to-face with Allen-Hapsley, who’s still ranting about property values. The contrast between the youthful champion and the irate HOA president is stark.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, this match will be a non-title match.

Kimber exits the ring and the bell rings.

Cline explodes into action. She darts across the ring, catching Allen-Hapsley off-guard with a lightning-fast rolling heel kick in the corner.

Johnny Suave: Whoa! Cline coming out hot! She’s not wasting any time!

Catherine scales the ropes, her movements fluid and precise. She launches into a picturesque moonsault, connecting squarely with Allen-Hapsley’s midsection.

“One… Two…” The referee’s hand slaps the mat, but Allen-Hapsley kicks out at the last second.

Johnny Suave: Catherine Cline goes for the quick pinfall but the HOA president kicks out!

Cline transitions smoothly into a chinlock, her face a mask of concentration. The match intensifies as Allen-Hapsley suddenly catches Cline with a vicious head scissors, flipping the momentum. Catherine’s world spins, her thoughts a blur. ‘Gotta regroup,’ she thinks, shaking off the cobwebs.

Johnny Suave: Allen-Hapsley showing she’s more than just HOA bylaws!

Colleen Crowder: Rules are rules, Johnny.

Cline, ever resilient, counters with a powerful backdrop, sending Allen-Hapsley tumbling to the floor.

Johnny Suave: The Wunderkind from Iowa doesn’t hesitate, scaling the turnbuckle with ease.

Catherine launches herself from the top rope, executing a breathtaking flying kick that connects squarely with Allen-Hapsley’s head.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! God! Cline just took flight!

Colleen Crowder: Unnecessary showboating if you ask me.

Catherine, riding the adrenaline rush, climbs back to the top rope. With a deep breath, she leaps.

Johnny Suave: CLINE WITH A CRUSHING DOUBLE AXE HANDLE TO ALLEN-HAPSLEY ON THE FLOOR!

The crowd erupts, and Catherine, ever the crowd-pleaser, turns to a young fan. “Quick selfie?” she grins, posing with the awestruck girl.

Colleen Crowder: Are you kidding me? Is this a match or a photo op?

Cline, refocusing, drags Allen-Hapsley back into the ring. Both women, battered but determined, trade stiff chops, the sound echoing through the arena.

Allen-Hapsley whips Cline into the ropes and telegraphs a backdrop attempt. Cline capitalizes, transitioning into a devastating powerbomb.

“One… Two…” The ref counts, but Allen-Hapsley kicks out at the last moment.

Undeterred, Catherine ascends the turnbuckle once more. She launches into a picture-perfect top rope hurricanrana.

Johnny Suave: COVER!

The referee slams his hand down once… twice… but somehow Allen-Hapsley gets her shoulder up.

Johnny Suave: Another near fall! This match is off the charts!

Cline, feeling the momentum, sets up for her finisher. “It’s over, Suzanne!” she shouts, executing a vicious Tornado DDT.

Johnny Suave: What a move.  She goes for the cover.

One… two…

Johnny Suave: NO! Allen-Hapsley kicks out at 2.9!

The crowd is on their feet as both women continue to brawl, neither willing to give an inch.

In a last-ditch effort, Allen-Hapsley attempts a standing switch, but Cline’s instincts kick in. She blocks the pickup and, in one fluid motion, rolls Allen-Hapsley up for the pin.

“One! Two! Three!” The referee’s hand slaps the mat for the final time.

Johnny Suave: THAT’S IT!

The arena erupts as Kimber Marshall slides into the ring, microphone in hand.

Kimber Marshall: Your winner, and still PCW Women’s Champion… Catherine Cline!

Catherine’s arm is raised in victory, her chest heaving with exertion and emotion.

Johnny Suave: Catherine Cline with the win here tonight on PCW Extreme Political TV!  We’ll be back right after this.

***

State of California Commercial The screen flickers to life, revealing California Governor Gavin Newsom standing in front of a raging inferno that used to be Los Angeles. His perfectly coiffed hair doesn’t move an inch as he flashes his trademark smile… but he does stay as far away from the flames as possible lest the copious amount of gel in his hair catch fire.

Gavin Newsom: Welcome to the Golden State!

Newsom gestures expansively.

Gavin Newsom: Where opportunity burns as brightly as our forests!

Behind him, a firefighter frantically waves for help, but Newsom ignores him, continuing his spiel.

Gavin Newsom: Sure, our reservoirs may be as empty as our promises, but that just means more room for innovation!

He chuckles, revealing unnaturally white teeth.

Gavin Newsom: And who needs water when you have the sweet nectar of progress?

The camera pans to show a group of exhausted firefighters struggling with a single garden hose.

Gavin Newsom: Our brave first responders are working overtime.  We’ve got dozens of them! Dozens!

Suddenly, the feed cuts to a luxurious beach resort. Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass is seen sipping a cocktail, surrounded by bikini-clad models.

Gavin Newsom: And while some may say our leadership is absent. I prefer to think of it as… globally focused.

The camera returns to Newsom, now standing atop a pile of ashes that was once a home.

Gavin Newsom: So come to California!

He spreads his arms wide.

Gavin Newsom: Where else can you experience the thrill of constant evacuation and the excitement of rolling blackouts? California: It’s lit!

As Newsom wraps up his pitch, the flames behind him grow higher.  He turns to see the fire engulfing the Hollywood sign.

Gavin Newsom: Um… please disperse…

Newsom raises both hands in the air as the letters of the Hollywood sign begin to fall on the mountainside as it catches fire.

Gavin Newsom: …nothing to see here!

***

Golden Globes Back from commercial, the vibrant stage of the Golden Globes glows under the spotlights. The audience buzzes with excitement, eager for the show to continue. Nikki Glaser, the evening’s host, takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. She prepares for this night for weeks, meticulously crafting jokes and practicing her timing. Now, all eyes are on her.

The teleprompter flickers to life, and Nikki’s heart skips a beat as she sees the names of the next presenters: a Hollywood power couple known for their dramatic on-and-off-screen chemistry. She has a feeling that their introduction could either go off without a hitch or turn into an unexpected spectacle. She clears her throat, flashes a dazzling smile, and begins to speak.

But before she could get out the first word, a sudden commotion at the side of the stage erupts and the glittering lights of the Golden Globes ceremony suddenly dim as Victoria McGill storms onto the stage, her statuesque 6’2″ frame casting an imposing shadow over the startled Hollywood elite.

Behind her, a ragtag group of Main Street USA representatives follows in her wake: Mike the Mechanic, his hands still stained with motor oil; Farmer John Deer, sun-weathered and stoic in his overalls; Ken Worth, the American Trucker, his eyes steely with determination; ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith, her auburn hair gleaming under the spotlights; and Tequila Sheila, looking out of place but defiant in her bartender’s apron.

Victoria snatches the microphone from the shell-shocked host, her piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd.

Victoria McGill: Ladies and gentlemen,” she announces, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “we interrupt your regularly scheduled self-congratulatory circle jerk to bring you something actually worth celebrating.

As the Hollywood stars scramble from their seats, Victoria can’t help but smirk. These pampered peacocks have no idea what real work looks like.

Victoria McGill: Tonight, we honor the true heroes of America. The ones who keep this country running while you’re busy patting yourselves on the back for pretending to be someone else.

John Deer steps forward, his calloused hands gripping the podium.

Farmer John Deer: We’re here to give voice to the folks y’all seem to have forgotten.

Victoria nods approvingly.

Victoria McGill: In the category of Best Americans Who Do What They Have to Do to Support Their Families, our nominees are…

As if on cue, three figures emerge from the wings. Ralph Brickhouse, a middle-aged garbage man with shoulders as broad as his smile; Haley Stewart, a high school student in her McDonald’s uniform, nervous but proud; and Tessa Martin, the ‘Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl,’ her helmet still on and a battered delivery bag slung over her shoulder.

Victoria McGill: And the winners are…

Victoria pauses for dramatic effect, reveling in the bewildered faces of the audience.

Victoria McGill: All of them! Because unlike you lot, these people don’t need a golden statue to validate their worth.

As security guards begin to swarm the stage, Victoria locks eyes with a particularly affronted-looking starlet in the front row.

Victoria McGill: What’s the matter, sweetheart? Can’t handle a little reality intruding on your fantasy world?

With a wink and a blown kiss to the cameras, Victoria grabs Sarah Mae’s hand and makes a run for it, the rest of her crew hot on her heels. As they disappear into the wings, her laughter echoes through the hall, a defiant challenge to the Hollywood establishment she’s just upended.

At the broadcast table, Colleen Crowder’s face is a picture of outrage. Her eyes flash and her teeth are bared in a snarl as she watches the monitors.

Colleen Crowder: That’s it!  Victoria McGill has gone too far. How dare she belittle the sanctity of this event!

Johnny Suave, seated beside her, tries his best to stifle a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He leans into his microphone, his voice a smooth velvet that glides through the tension-filled air.

Johnny Suave: Well folks, who knew the night would take such an… unconventional turn?

Colleen turns to him, her eyes narrowed.

Colleen Crowder: That’s not funny, Johnny! This is a disgrace to the industry!

Colleen Crowder’s face contorts in disgust as “Mr. Hollywood” Kevin Daniels struts down the ramp, his designer shoes barely touching the ground. The Skanky Rich Bimbos Paris and Nicole flank him, their silicone-enhanced assets bouncing with each step. Pop sensation Taylor Switt trails behind, her bedazzled microphone glinting under the arena lights.

Johnny Suave: Well, I’m sure Kevin Daniels feels the same way.

Kevin Daniels: This is an outrage!

Daniels’s perfectly coiffed hair not moving an inch as he spoke.

Kevin Daniels: How dare those… those plebeians interrupt our sacred Golden Globes ceremony!

Colleen nods in agreement, her short auburn hair bobbing. Finally, someone with sense, she thinks.

Kevin Daniels: We, the cultural elite, have worked tirelessly to create art that the unwashed masses clearly don’t understand.

Daniels paces the ring.

Kevin Daniels: And now these… these blue-collar buffoons think they can just waltz in and steal our spotlight?

The crowd boos, but Daniels presses on, his face reddening.

Kevin Daniels: I demand an apology from Main Street USA! I demand-

Suddenly, a commotion erupts at the entrance.

Johnny Suave: WAIT!

A large man and two women sprint down the ramp, determination etched on their faces.

Johnny Suave: THEY’RE HERE! RALPH BRICKHOUSE. HALEY STEWART.  AND THE EXTREME PIZZA DELIVERY GIRL TESSA MARTIN!

Colleen Crowder: Oh no. This can’t be happening.

Before anyone can react, Tessa leaps into the ring, wielding an oversized pizza box like a deadly weapon. With a resounding thwack, she clobbers Taylor Switt, sending the pop star sprawling.

Colleen shrieks.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: That’s not a regulation pizza box!

Chaos ensues.

Johnny Suave: Haley Stewart tackles Paris to the mat!

Paris’s designer clothes tearing in the scuffle. Nicole tries to intervene, but Tessa grabs her by the hair extensions and executes a perfect Pizza Cutter, slamming her face-first into the canvas.

Johnny Suave: PIZZA CUTTER!

Daniels, his eyes wide with panic, scrambles backwards as Ralph Brickhouse charges towards him like an enraged bull. The Hollywood star narrowly escapes, rolling out of the ring and sprinting up the ramp faster than he’s ever run in his life.

The crowd erupts in a thunderous chant: “PCW! PCW! PCW!”

Colleen slumps in her chair, her head in her hands.

Colleen Crowder: This is a travesty.  How can these people cheer for such blatant disregard of social norms and hierarchy?

Johnny Suave: It’s PCW… that’s why.  Let’s go backstage for a moment.

***

Backstage The door slams open, rattling the cheap particle board walls of the makeshift office. The incoming CEO of PCW Donald Trump storms out, his face a shade of crimson that clashes spectacularly with his signature orange tan.

Donald Trump: You better get it together, or you’re fired!

Trump turns and walks away but not before he bellows over his shoulder, his voice echoing down the dingy hallway of the arena’s backstage area.

Donald Trump: I don’t run losers, folks. PCW is gonna be yuuuge again, believe me!

As Trump’s footsteps fade, American Patriot leaders Mike Johnson and John Thune emerge from the office, looking like they’ve just been run through a political woodchipper. Johnson’s usually impeccable suit is rumpled, his tie askew. Thune’s normally stoic demeanor has cracked, revealing a man who’s just had his soul crushed by a spray-tanned steamroller.

As they slouch away, the faint chants of “PCW! PCW!” can be heard from the arena.

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Johnny Suave: Well now.  It seems the incoming CEO of PCW is not tolerating business as usual.

Colleen Crowder: Let the American Patriot civil war commence.

Johnny Suave: Is that your narrative while the Progressive Alliance burns like the wildfires in California?

Colleen shoots Johnny a nasty look.

Johnny Suave: We’ll be back after these messages.

***

Skank Mitchell’s Awesomely Awesome Beef Jerky A package of Skank Mitchell’s Awesomely Awesome Beef Jerky is superimposed in the middle of a campground.  There’s a truck with a camper in the bed parked in a forest area with plenty of trees.

Announcer: Skank Mitchell’s Awesomely Awesome Beef Jerky presents *BLEEP*-ing with McGill.

Three men sit around a campfire.  The one on the left is crouched down on the ground munching on a piece of Skank Mitchell’s Awesomely Awesome Beef Jerky.  The other two are drinking coffee from a mug.

There’s a rustling by an old barn where four trash cans are located.  All four are overflowing over the top.  All three look over and see Victoria McGill with an empty water bottle in her hand.  She’s wearing shorts and a tank top as she’s out for a run.

Victoria McGill: Hey guys.  Do you know if there’s any other trash receptacles nearby?

The crouching guy snacking on the beef jerky gets an idea.  He reaches into his rucksack and pulls out one of those trick cans that sprays out plastic snakes when you open it up.

Guy #1: Hey guys.

He shows the can to the others.

Victoria McGill: Um.  You do know that I can hear you, right?

The other two snicker at the idea.  The man on the far right who’s wearing a plaid lumberjack jacket points to a rock in front of Victoria and the other guy ‘sneaks’ over there with the can.

Victoria McGill: Okay.  You do know that I can see you sneaking up here.

The other two watch as the guy places the can on the rock, with Victoria observing him, and then ‘sneaks’ back to the campfire.

Victoria looks down at the can.

Victoria McGill: All right. I know what’s inside the can.  I’m going to open it up.  These plastic thingys are going to come flying out.  And then I’m going to have to do something really bad to you guys.

The three campers simply stare at her.

Victoria sighs.

Victoria McGill: Okay…fine.

She opens the can.  Two plastic snakes fly out and the campers begin to laugh.  Victoria gives out a ‘look’ that said ‘seriously?’  She exhales, turns, and runs into the woods.

The three campers scurry towards their camper just as Victoria comes back out with a rather ominous looking weapon in hand.

Guy #2 (panicked shout): OH *BLEEP*, SHE’S GOT AN RPG!

Guy #1: AN RPG?

Guy #3 (even more panicked): RUN!

As the campers veer off into the woods, Victoria smiles…aims…and fires the Rocket Propelled Grenade into the camper and blows it up.

Final scene: a package of Skank Mitchell’s Awesomely Awesome Beef Jerky superimposed over the burning camper and the debris field around it.

Announcer: Skank Mitchell’s Awesomely Awesome Beef Jerky.  Feed your irrationally foolish side.

***

Cut to Johnny Suave standing in front of a large PCW banner.

Johnny Suave: Tonight, we saw the PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline in action and she took care of South Side Homeowners Association President Suzanne Allen-Hapsley.  In tonight’s main event, it’s the newly named MAGA-Powers Starz N. Striples and the ‘Anti-Hollywood One Man A-List’ Stone Chism… the PCW Tag Team Champions.

MAIN EVENT: The MAGA-Powers (Starz N. Stripes and ‘Anti-Hollywood One Man A-List’ Stone Chism) vs. The Canadian Connection (Jack Fraiser w/his Oootlander Blaire Rendell and Carl McKenzie-Bob and Doug McKenzie’s long lost brother w/Canadian PM Justin Trudeau) Standing in the center of the ring, Kimber Marshall raises the microphone to her lips.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen… our main event tonight will be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

Kimber Marshall: …and it will be a NON… TITLE… MATCH!

The video screen flickers to life, transporting the raucous PCW crowd to the misty Scottish Highlands of 1946. Blaire Rendell, a dead ringer for Claire from Outlander but with an even more exaggerated accent, approaches the standing stones of Craigh na Dun.

“Och, I can hear the stones singing to me,” Blaire exclaims, her eyes wide with excitement.

Blaire Rendell: Soon I’ll be back in the arms of my beloved Jamie, frolicking through the heather and dodging redcoats!

As she reaches out to touch the largest stone, an electric buzzing fills the air. Blaire’s hair stands on end, her crisp nurse’s uniform billowing dramatically.

Blaire Rendell: Take me back, ye magical rocks!

Blaire collapses in an overly theatrical faint.

The video fades and a spotlight illuminates Blaire sprawled on the PCW stage. She stirs, looking around in confusion.

Blaire Rendell: Jamie? Jamie, where are ye, my love?

Blaire looks around desperately for him.

Suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows. It’s not the rugged Scottish highlander Blaire was expecting, but a stereotypical Canadian wearing a toque and munching on back bacon.

Jack Fraiser: Sorry eh, no Jamie here. Name’s Jack Fraiser. Welcome to Canada!

Blaire Rendell: Canada?

Blaire’s face contorts in horror.

Blaire Rendell: Nooooo!

Kimber Marshall’s voice booms through the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Jack Fraiser and his Oooot-lander, Blaire Rendell!

As Blaire continues to wail in despair, Kimber introduces the next arrival.

Kimber Marshall: And now, joining them in the ring – Carl McKenzie, the long-lost brother of Bob and Doug!

A clearly intoxicated man in a toque and scarf stumbles down the ramp, sloshing cheap beer everywhere.

Carl McKenzie: Take off, eh!

Kimber Marshall: And last but not least, please welcome the leader of the Canadian Connection – Prime Minister Justin Trudeau!

Trudeau strolls awkwardly towards the stage in his customary suit, his boyish grin fading into a perplexed frown as he waves half-heartedly to the confused crowd. Why on earth am I here? He wonders silently, feeling out of place and uncomfortable in this bizarre setting.

Kimber Marshall: And their opponents.

The arena erupts as Donald Trump’s unmistakable silhouette appears at the top of the ramp. Kimber Marshall’s voice booms through the speakers, barely audible over the cacophony of cheers and boos.

Trump struts down the aisle, his signature scowl etched on his face. As he passes Justin Trudeau, he doesn’t even spare a glance, leaving the Canadian PM visibly bewildered.

Kimber Marshall: Accompanied to the ring by the incoming CEO of PCW, Donald Trump… they are the PCW Tag Team Champions… The MAGA-Powers!

The opening chords of “God Bless the USA” fill the arena as Starz N. Stripes and Stone Chism emerge, championship belts gleaming around their waists.

Johnny Suave’s voice crackles over the commentary.

Johnny Suave: The MAGA-Powers are here, folks! And they’re looking ready to defend America’s honor!

Colleen Crowder cuts in, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Colleen Crowder: Oh yes, because nothing says ‘American values’ like a reality TV star and two muscleheads in spandex.

Trump plants himself at ringside, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Trudeau like a predator eyeing its prey.

The bell rings, and Fraiser and Starz circle each other. But before they can lock up, Trudeau’s voice rings out.

Justin Trudeau: Wait! Stop the match!

Johnny Suave: What?

Trudeau climbs into the ring, looking flustered.

Justin Trudeau: I… I forfeit. The Canadian Connection withdraws.

A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Fraiser and McKenzie exchange bewildered looks.

The referee signals for the bell.

Jack Fraiser: What the hell?

Fraiser looks towards Trudeau with disbelief.  Blaire’s not pleased.

Blaire Rendell: Wait… I came back in time for this?

Kimber’s voice fills the stunned silence.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, as a result of a forfeit, your winners… PCW Tag Team Champions… The MAGA-Powers!”

Johnny Suave can barely contain his excitement.

Johnny Suave: Unbelievable! The Canadian Connection crumbled under the pressure and The MAGA-Powers win in our main event tonight on PCW Extreme Political TV!

Colleen scoffs.

Colleen Crowder: Pressure? More like Trump’s intimidation tactics. This is a mockery of fair competition!

As The MAGA-Powers celebrate in the ring, Trump’s smirk grows wider and the scene ends with Trump basking in the glow of his victory, while Trudeau slinks away, leaving his confused teammates behind.

End of Show Pop Fiction Videos The camera pans across a lavishly decorated dressing room, settling on ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels adjusting his designer suit in a full-length mirror. The Skanky Rich Bimbos, Paris and Nicole, flank him, their skin-tight dresses sparkling under the vanity lights.

Paris twirls a strand of platinum blonde hair.

Paris: Kevin, darling, do we look fabulous enough for you?

Nicole pouts her collagen-enhanced lips.

Nicole: Yeah, are we Hollywood enough?

Kevin barely glances at them, his eyes fixed on his own reflection.

Kevin Daniels: Ladies, there’s only one thing on my mind right now…

Paris and Nicole lean in eagerly, their eyes widening with anticipation.

Kevin Daniels: The PCW Title!

Kevin’s voice drips with self-importance. The bimbos deflate visibly, their shoulders slumping in disappointment.

Kevin continues, oblivious to their reaction.

Kevin Daniels: And that means you, Charlie Blackwell. You back woods, cattle-wrangling excuse for a champion. Your days are numbered.

In the background, Taylor Switt strums her guitar, providing a melodic backdrop to Kevin’s monologue. The pop starlet’s eyes never leave Kevin, a mixture of adoration and calculation in her gaze.

Kevin Daniels: It’s my birthright.  I’m Hollywood royalty.  You rubes don’t understand true star power. I vow to win that title.

Kevin strikes a dramatic pose.

Kevin Daniels: PCW will finally have a champion worthy of the bright lights and red carpets!

Paris and Nicole, having recovered from their initial disappointment, begin preening again, adjusting their hair and makeup as if preparing for a photo shoot.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene shifts abruptly to a stark office. Kamala Harris stands behind a podium, her face a mask of political neutrality as she prepares to announce the winner of the PCW title match from Extreme Election Night 2024.

Kamala Harris: As is the tradition after the new CEO of PCW is determined, I am prepared to announce the winner of-”

She’s interrupted by a snicker from off-camera. American Patriot leader Mike Johnson comes into view, a smirk playing on his lips as he struggles to contain his laughter.

Harris pauses, her eyebrow arching in irritation. She turns towards Johnson, her glare could melt steel.

Johnson’s smirk widens, but he says nothing, leaving the tension hanging in the air as the camera fades to black.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene opens with a wide shot of California Governor Gavin Newsom standing in front of a massive, roaring inferno. Flames lick the sky behind him, casting an eerie orange glow on his perfectly coiffed hair and gleaming white teeth.

Newsom flashes his trademark smile, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him. He waves his hands dismissively, channeling the spirit of Frank Drebin.

Gavin Newsom: Please disperse, nothing to see here, folks!

Newsom’s voice is barely audible over the crackling flames.

Gavin Newsom: Just a minor inconvenience in the Golden State. Everything’s under control!

A burning tree crashes to the ground behind him, sending sparks flying. Newsom doesn’t flinch.

Gavin Newsom: Remember, California is still the best place to live, work, and play!

Newsome gives a thumbs up to the camera as ash rains down on his impeccable suit.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene abruptly cuts to a close-up of PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell’s (American Heartland Coalition) weathered face. His steely eyes bore into the camera, a stark contrast to Newsom’s polished façade, his Texas twang thick with disgust.

Charlie Blackwell: For the past four years, the Progressive Alliance have been actin’ like a bunch of entitled brats throwin’ a kegger while Momma and Daddy are out of town.”

He spits to the side, his lip curling in contempt.

Charlie Blackwell: But let me tell you somethin’.

Charlie leans in closer.

Charlie Blackwell: The party’s over. The adults are comin’ home, and there’s gonna be hell to pay.

The camera pans back, revealing Charlie’s impressive physique and the gleaming PCW Championship belt draped over his shoulder.

Charlie Blackwell: Kevin Daniels and those coastal elites think they can run roughshod over real Americans. But I’m fixin’ to teach ’em a lesson they won’t soon forget.

Charlie’s fingers tighten around the title belt.

Charlie Blackwell: Momma and Daddy are comin’ home, and your ass is mine.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene cuts to a podium where Kamala Harris stands, her face a mask of practiced politeness. She clears her throat, tapping the microphone, her voice carrying a hint of forced enthusiasm.

Kamala Harris: Again… now, to announce the winner of the PCW title match at Extreme Election Night 2024.

As she speaks, the camera pans to show Mike Johnson standing off to the side, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Kamala’s eyes flick towards him, her composure wavering for a moment and she stumbles over her words, her usual poise slipping.

Kamala Harris: The winner of the match was-

She stops abruptly, turning to face Mike fully.

Kamala Harris: Stop smiling at me like that!

Mike raises an eyebrow, his smirk only growing.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene abruptly shifts back to Gavin Newsom, still standing in front of the inferno. His hair is now slightly disheveled, and there’s a smudge of ash on his cheek, but his smile remains plastered on.

Gavin Newsom: As you can see…

He gestures widely.

Gavin Newsom: …everything is completely under control here in the great state of California!

Behind him, a fire truck races by, sirens blaring. Newsom doesn’t miss a beat.

Gavin Newsom: Just a routine drill, folks! Remember, in California, even our emergencies are world-class!”

A massive redwood crashes to the ground in a shower of sparks. Newsom’s eye twitches, his voice strains, but his smile doesn’t falter.

Gavin Newsom: Everything’s fine. Please disperse.  Nothing to see here but the most beautiful state in the union!

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene shifts to Hack’s parking lot. Nine-year-old Gracie McAvay, the young host of “How Dare You?”… her pigtails bouncing, marches across the asphalt with righteous indignation. Her eyes narrow as she spots a gleaming Ferrari parked diagonally across two spaces.

Gracie McAvay: HOW DARE YOU!

Gracie shouts, her voice echoing off the surrounding buildings. She plants her tiny fists on her hips, glaring at the offending vehicle.

I’ll show this rich jerk what happens when you don’t follow the rules, Gracie thinks, a mischievous glint in her eye.

She darts off-screen, returning moments later lugging a comically oversized grenade launcher. Gracie struggles to hoist it onto her shoulder, her face scrunched in determination.

“This’ll teach ’em to respect parking etiquette!” she declares, aiming at the Ferrari.

BOOM! The car explodes in a spectacular fireball, sending bits of Italian engineering raining down across the lot. Gracie pumps her fist triumphantly.

Victoria McGill appears, her statuesque form silhouetted against the flames.

Victoria McGill: GRACIE?

Tori’s eyes are wide with disbelief.

Gracie turns, suddenly sheepish, scuffing her shoe against the ground.

Gracie McAvay: Sorry.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The scene abruptly cuts to Kamala Harris, her face a mask of exasperation, turning again and seeing Mike Johnson grinning back at her. She throws her hands in the air dramatically.

Kamala Harris: That’s it! I’m done!

Harris storms off-camera.

SFX-the screen goes static and crackling.

The camera pans across a dimly lit auditorium, rows of empty seats stretching into the darkness. At the podium, Jamie Raskin of the Progressive Alliance stands, his voice echoing through the cavernous space, his fist pounding the lectern.

Jamie Raskin: And let us never forget the tragedy of January 6th! The day MAGA extremists attempted to overthrow our very democracy!”

Raskin’s eyes blaze with righteous fury as he continues his tirade.

Jamie Raskin: We must remain vigilant against these threats to our nation’s core values!

As he speaks, the camera slowly pans back, revealing more and more vacant seats. Raskin, caught up in his own rhetoric, fails to notice.

Jamie Raskin: The Progressive Alliance stands as the last bastion against tyranny!

Raskin raises his arms dramatically.

Jamie Raskin: We are the guardians of—

Suddenly, Raskin’s voice falters. His gaze sweeps across the empty auditorium, realization dawning on his face.

Jamie Raskin: Aw… son of a bitch.

The final shot shows Raskin alone on stage, his shoulders slumped in defeat, as the lights fade to black.

[pcwpolwrestling]

Four Years Ago-Riot Breaks Out at PCW Show

[ON SCREEN GRAPHIC: Blue background. The top of the Capitol Building occupies the left hand side of the television screen.

Centered in the middle of the screen: “P-SPAN. THE POLITICAL CHANNEL.”]

P-SPAN Announcer (off screen): The P-SPAN Network bring you long-form public affairs programming from the nation’s capital and are a public service of…

[ON SCREEN GRAPHIC: Logos of twenty three different cable and satellite television companies replace the Capitol Building and P-SPAN graphic.]

P-SPAN Announcer (v/o): …your television provider.

[ON SCREEN GRAPHIC: Returns to the blue background with the top of the Capitol Building occupying the left hand side of the television screen with “P-SPAN. THE POLITICAL CHANNEL.” centered in the middle of the screen.]

P-SPAN Announcer (v/o): P-SPAN. The Political Channel.

===============================

REPLAY: PCW EXTREME ELECTION NIGHT 2020-NOVEMBER 3rd, 2020 -The first thing Dawn McGill does is profusely thanks everyone who came to the show tonight.

Dawn McGill: “I keep saying this but you have to understand that I truly mean this.  PCW isn’t about the big shots.  PCW is all about YOU – the people.  We do this for you.”

…

The video screen comes to life.

Johnny Suave: “What the hell is going on?”

The video screen zeroes in on a scuffle backstage.

Who’s Involved? Berkeley, California Professor McCarthy’s Progressive Flock -The Green World Order: GreenPete, PeaceNick, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, Peta from PETA -The Young Jerks: Zenk Cryger, James Idaho, and Anna the foul-mouthed sidekick -Code Pink and Emily S. List -The League of Anti-Fascists: Ted and Chaz

American Heartland Coalition -Charlie Blackwell -‘PCW’s Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin

Johnny Suave: “Professor McCarthy’s Flock are beating down Charlie Blackwell and Tessa Martin.  Both are scheduled to wrestle later on in the evening!”

Colleen Crowder: “It looks like a peaceful protest to me, Johnny.”

Blackwell gets flung into the wall by GreenPete and Brock Cole Lee.  Code Pink glitter bombs Tessa – she’s blinded.  Emily S. List then DDT’s her to the floor.

“Yeah.  Totally peaceful,” Suave says in a tone totally dripping with sarcasm.

Dawn immediately rolls out of the ring and takes off for the back…

…

…PCW cameras find Charlie Blackwell and ‘PCW Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin laid out on the floor backstage being attended to by Nurse Nellie and the PCW Clean-Up Crew.  Also on hand, ‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay and the Deplorables.

No sign of Professor McCarthy’s Flock.

More worrying, no sign of PCW Owner Dawn McGill.  One of the Deplorables finds a heel shoe McGill was wearing on the floor and brings it to McAvay.

McAvay asks if anyone’s seen McGill?  The PCW Clean-Up Crew tell him the only people they found were Blackwell and Martin.

McAvay immediately sends the Deplorables out to look for Dawn McGill. (END VIDEO)

RURAL COMPOUND THE AFTERNOON OF WEDNESDAY JANUARY 6TH, 2021 ‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay, ‘Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan, Charlie Blackwell, and the Vice Squad’s General DeBauchery have snuck onto an estate.  All four lie on the ground, dressed in military-ish garb, armed and dangerous.

McAvay peers at a building ahead of them through a pair of binoculars and tells the others to be on ‘standby.’

General DeBauchery peers through the sights of a big sniper-like gun.

General DeBauchery: Set.

McAvay counts down from 3, 2, 1.  General DeBauchery shoots out a window and Bryan throws a concussion grenade through the opening.

*KA-BOOM*

Ray McAvay: MOVE!

The group charges forward.

Charlie Blackwell kicks in the door.  Inside, they find two guards on the floor.

Footsteps.

Two more men rush in.  General DeBauchery cocks his weapon and fires.  He hits both guards in their legs.  They fall.  Bryan and Blackwell disarm the pair.

McAvay motions to one of the guards.

Ray McAvay: Where is she?

General DeBauchery points his gun at the guard to add a little incentive.  The guard points towards one of the back rooms.  McAvay heads there and opens the door.

Dawn McGill: MMMPPHHH!

McAvay finds McGill tied up on the floor.  Hair disheveled and wearing the same clothes she wore at Extreme Election Night 2020.  He removes the gag.

Dawn McGill: Took you guys long enough.

Ray McAvay: Yeah, we’re not really all that experienced with this type of armed commando raid.

McAvay unties her and helps the owner of PCW to her feet.  It takes a second for Dawn to get her bearings and her balance back.

Ray McAvay: We need to get to Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon…NOW!

McAvay then explains the issue.  If the January 6th show does not take place, PCW will default on its contract with Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon and Dawn could lose the show all together to The Coke Brothers and George Soros.

McGill tells McAvay she’ll make sure the show happens.  McAvay hands her his cell phone and she makes a call.

===============================

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon Wauseon, Ohio Taped Wednesday January 6th, 2020 Sunday January 10th, 2021

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

Suave reviews what went down at Extreme Election Night in November.

RESULTS FROM PCW EXTREME ELECTION NIGHT 2020 -PCW Owner Dawn McGill welcomes everyone back to PCW.  She then announces a ‘compromise’ deal had been reached with Mitch McConnell (American Patriots) and Nancy Pelosi (Progressive Alliance)-  ‘Stars N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott of the American Patriots with Donald Trump in his corner will face ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels from the Progressive Alliance with Joe Biden in his corner and Charlie Blackwell of the American Heartland Coalition for the PCW Title.  At the end of the show, Dawn would then announce who the new CEO of PCW will be: either Donald Trump (American Patriots) or Joe Biden (Progressive Alliance) -MATCH #1-Kayleigh McEnaney defeats CNN’s Jake Tapper and Brian Stelter in a handicap match -MATCH #2/ARIZONA SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Mark Kelly (Progressive Alliance) defeated Martha McSally (American Patriots) -Gavin Newsom (CA-Progressive Alliance) makes a case for PCW to come to California. -MATCH #3/SOUTH CAROLINA SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Lindsey Graham (American Patriots) defeated Jaime Harrison (Progressive Alliance) -Both Joe Biden and Donald Trump interview with PCW Owner Dawn McGill for the PCW CEO position. -MATCH #4/PCW TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH: Jill Berg Enterprises (Conservative Inc./American Patriots) defeat The Green World Order (Progressive Alliance) and The Deplorables (American Heartland Coalition) -MATCH #5/ALABAMA SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Tommy Tuberville (American Patriots) vs. Doug Jones (Progressive Alliance) joined in progress.

The show is stopped at that point by Pennsylvania State Attorney General Josh Shapiro, Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer, Michigan Secretary of State Jocelyn Benson, and former Georgia Gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams- all from the Progressive Alliance.

-When the show restarts, Tuberville finishes off Jones. -Dawn McGill comes out and gives a second speech.  But the video screen shows Professor McCarthy’s Flock assaulting Charlie Blackwell and Tessa Martin.  Dawn Immediately runs to the back. -MATCH #6/HOUSE WAR GAMES MATCH: Team Progressive Alliance defeats Team American Patriots -Backstage, Blackwell and Tessa are being attended to by Nurse Nellie and the PCW Clean-Up crew.  Neither Professor McCarthy’s Flock nor Dawn McGill can be found.  McGill’s heel is found on the scene. -MATCH #7/MICHIGAN SENATE MEDALLION MATCH: Gary Peters (Progressive Alliance) defeated John James (American Patriots). -Nurse Nellie and the PCW Clean-Up Crew are back at work attending to Ray McAvay, who’s found backstage after being attacked.  Still no sign of Dawn McGill. -The Coke Brothers-Charles and David, Executive Director of the Alan Lincolns Project Sarah Lenti, and George Moros are pleased with the direction the night is going. -MAIN EVENT #1/PCW WOMEN’S TITLE MATCH: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) defeated ‘Alaskan Rogue’ Sierra Whalen to become the new PCW Women’s Champion. -Bill de Blasio (NY-Progressive Alliance) makes a case for PCW to come to New York City. -MAIN EVENT #2/PCW TITLE MATCH: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) defeated ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott to become the new PCW Champion. -With McGill missing, The Coke Brothers, Lenti, and Soros step in and name Joe Biden the new CEO of PCW.

Cut to the broadcast desk.

PCW! … PCW! … PCW! …

Colleen Crowder pops a bottle of champagne.  Tonight, she doesn’t care about the PCW chant that usually offends her to no end.

Johnny Suave: Hello and welcome to Political Championship Wrrrrestling!

PCW! … PCW! … PCW! …

Crowder leans back and guzzles some the champagne.

Johnny Suave: We are back at the spiritual home of PCW, Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon!

Suave pauses for the requisite roar from the fans- who seem really amped up more than usual tonight.

Johnny Suave: Tonight, we’ve got the Georgia Medallion match which will be a tag team battle between the American Patriots David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler versus Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock from the Progressive Alliance in a winner take all match between both factions.

Colleen Crowder: Woo-hoo!  Stacey Abrams says bet on the blue tonight baby!

Johnny Suave: Also tonight, after the controversial end to their match two months ago at Extreme Election Night 2020, PCW Champion ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels of the Progressive Alliance will face ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott for the title.

Colleen Crowder: There was nothing controversial about the match Johnny.

Suave points out to Colleen the fact since there was no pinfall in the match at Extreme Election Night 2020 and an unknown referee came in late and declared Daniels the winner constitutes ‘controversial’ in his mind.

Colleen Crowder: You’re lucky the CEO of Twitter Jack Dorsey or Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg isn’t here to properly fact check your false statement you presented without evidence.

Johnny Suave: Finally. We have word that Dawn McGill has finally been rescued.

Another roar from the crowd.

Johnny Suave:  That’s right.  She is on her way to Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon as we speak and we hope she makes it to tonight’s show in time.

Colleen Crowder: No we don’t.

DAWN McGILL! (clap clap clap-clap-clap) DAWN McGILL! (clap clap clap-clap-clap)

Johnny Suave: Well, the crowd is definitely making their feeling known.

Colleen Crowder: And no one cares, Johnny.  The media sets the tone and tells them what they need to know.

Suave does a quick buildup of the opening match.  The Progressive Alliance and American Patriots split the Senate Medallion matches at Extreme Election Night 2020. –ARIZONA: Mark Kelly (Progressive Alliance) defeated Martha McSally (American Patriots) -SOUTH CAROLINA: Lindsey Graham (American Patriots) defeated Jaime Harrison (Progressive Alliance) -ALABAMA MATCH: Tommy Tuberville (American Patriots) vs. Doug Jones (Progressive Alliance) -MICHIGAN MATCH: Gary Peters (Progressive Alliance) defeated John James (American Patriots).

Johnny Suave: Tonight’s match will break that tie. Let’s go to the ring and Kimber Marshall.

Cut to Kimber in the ring.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen.  This match will be…

Crowd: ONE fall!

Kimber Marshall: …for the Georgia Senate Medallions and to determine the winner of the Senate Medallion Competition.  Introducing first, in the blue corner.  Representing the Progressive Alliance.  Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff.

Some cheers.  Lots of boos.

Kimber Marshall: And their opponents.  In the red corner.  Representing the American Patriots.  Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue!

Lots of cheers.  Some boos.

Johnny Suave: All right.  It looks like the referee is ready and this match is underway.

******************************************

MATCH #1-GEORGIA SENATE MEDALLION MATCH

Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff (Progressive Alliance) vs. Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue (American Patriots)

******************************************

It’s a close match.  A really close match.  Both teams battle back and forth to forge any advantage they can.

…Ossoff lets go and he latches on a waistlock to Perdue.  Perdue reverses.  Ossoff reverses back and snags an armbar.  Perdue scowls.  He spins Ossoff around and trips him up.  But Ossoff holds on to the arm.  Perdue reverses.  He unleashes a couple of chops.  Boot to the gut by Ossoff.  Perdue with more chops.  Ossoff again boots Perdue in the gut.  Knee lift wobbles Perdue to a corner.  Ossoff runs in, but Loeffler is there with a chair!

*CLANG*

Down goes Ossoff.  Perdue covers.

One…

Two…

Johnny Suave: STACEY ABRAMS PULLS THE REFEREE OUT OF THE RING!

Abrams grabs a chair.

*CLANG*

Down goes the referee.

Warnock runs Loeffler into the ring post.  She’s knocked into dreamland.

Perdue starts to move a little.  Ossoff lays the boots to him.  He pulls Perdue back up.  Wheelbarrow takedown!  Cover!  A new referee slides in.

Colleen Crowder: See?  There’s no problem.  The referee is back in the ring.

One-Two-THREE!

*DING-DING-DING*

WINNERS/GEORGIA SENATE MEDALLION: Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff @ 12:32

Johnny Suave: And that gives the Senate Medallion competition to the Progressive Alliance.

There are some Progressive Alliance supporters at the show tonight but the bulk of the PCW fans boo what happened.  A few throw debris into the ring.

Colleen Crowder: Stacey Abrams knew what she was talking about when she said bet on Blue Johnny.  Blue Wave!  Blue Wave!  Take that, sore losers!

IN TRANSIT A speeding vehicle blows past a highway patrolman parked off to the side on the Ohio Turnpike.

Inside the vehicle are The Deplorables: Ray McAvay, Charlie Blackwell, William Daniels Bryan, General DeBauchery of the Vice Squad, and PCW Owner Dawn McGill.

McGill just wraps up a phone call.

Dawn McGill: The first match is over.  Ossoff and Warnock won.  The Progressive Alliance won the Senate Medallion contest.

Ray McAvay: Wow.  The Progressive Alliance is sweeping everything now.

McGill asks what happened after she was kidnapped at Extreme Election Night.  McAvay explains the ending of the PCW title match when the PCW referee was pulled out of the ring, incapacitated, and then replaced by another ‘unknown’ referee who then declared ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) the winner of the match.  The Coke Brothers, George Soros, and Alan Lincolns Project Executive Sarah Lenti came out next and then named Joe Biden as the next PCW CEO.

Dawn McGill: Oooh.  I’m sure Trump took that well.

Ray McAvay: Oh yeah.  He didn’t.

McAvay then runs through the aftermath.  Trump’s challenge of the ruling.  Rudy Giuliani and his team trying to get Trump reinstated for a second four year term as PCW CEO.

Dawn McGill: I’m sure that didn’t go well.

Ray McAvay: Nope.  Trump lost at every turn.  Even the PCW Super Court of Justice shot him down, even after Sydney Powell threatened to ‘release the kraken.’

Dawn McGill: Release the kraken?

McAvay nods.

Dawn McGill: And what happened when she released said kraken?

McAvay chuckles.

Ray McAvay: Absolutely nothing.  So, now Trump’s supposed to speak tonight.  I don’t think he’ll concede but it’s over.

McGill checks her watch and urges McAvay to hurry.

But there’s a slight problem.  McAvay glances at his rearview mirror.

Flashing red and blue lights.

Ray McAvay: Damn.

Dawn McGill: Ray!  Really?

McGill flops back in the backseat and sighs.

Cut back to the broadcast desk.

The crowd is really rowdy tonight- loud, boisterous, almost to the point of being surly and agitated.

Johnny Suave: Well. There’s definitely a lot of emotion flowing through here tonight.

Colleen Crowder: Because they’re excited.

Suave agrees with that.

Colleen Crowder: These people are excited that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are about to ride in to rescue PCW from Donald Trump.

Suave doesn’t agree with that.

Colleen Crowder: Well, that’s the narrative we’re pushing-

The fans explode and immediately drown Crowder out.

Johnny Suave: Hold on a second.

Donald Trump appears and makes his way down the ramp.

Johnny Suave: The CEO of PCW is coming to the ring and he’s apparently going to make a statement.

Colleen Crowder: BOOOOOOO!

The supporters chant “TRUMP! TRUMP! TRUMP!” which merges with the melody of the Imperial March from Star Wars and becomes:

♫ TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMP

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP♫

♫ TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMP

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP♫

As Trump reaches the ring and climbs in, Crowder mumbles something about January 20th not getting here soon enough.

Trump thanks everyone for being here tonight under extraordinary circumstances.  He vowed to ‘never concede’ which revved the crowd up.

Donald Trump: You saw what happened at Extreme Election Night 2020.  We will never give up.  We will never concede.  You don’t concede when there’s theft involved.  It will never happen.  We’ve had enough and we will not take it anymore.

The fans again stand and cheer.

Johnny Suave: Strong words coming from the outgoing PCW CEO and he’s really getting the PCW faithful fired up here.

Colleen Crowder: This is all a regurgitation of Trump’s false assertions and unproven claims that he was robbed of the CEO position, nothing more.  Joe Biden won.  Donald Trump lost.  Believe our narrative everyone.  Believe our narrative.

Trump talks for a couple more minutes and then wraps it up.

Donald Trump: We will not let them silence your voices.  We’re not going to let that happen.

And with that, Trump makes his exit.

Johnny Suave: All right, let’s go backstage where PCW reporter Woodward Bernstein is with the challenger in tonight’s PCW title match- ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott.

KEVIN SCOTT INTERVIEW Cut to Bernstein backstage…

Woodward Bernstein: Thanks Johnny.

Scott steps into the shot.

Woodward Bernstein: How does it feel to be back in PCW?

Kevin Scott: It feels real good Woodward.

Scott ruminates about being PCW’s Original Rookie Sensation back in 2006-2007 and winning the PCW title for the first time back in 2008.

WAYBACK MACHINE: PCW Day of Judgment- March 4th, 2008 Starz N. Stripes Kevin Scott (American Patriots) vs. O’Beck Bahama (Progressive Alliance) vs. Halitosis (Independent) in a three way elimination match for the PCW Title -Halitosis eliminated first via a Starz N. Stripes piledriver. – …Bahama misses a leg drop. Starz bounces up, lifts him up, and back suplexes Bahama. A second back suplex by Starz. Bahama wildly charges. Starz sidesteps. Bahama bounces off the ropes and Starz delivers a Death Valley Driver. Cover. 1…2…3!

WINNER AND NEW PCW CHAMPION: ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott.

Woodward Bernstein: Kevin, I know what happened two months ago at Extreme Election Night 2020 was extremely disappointing to you.  Tonight, though, you get another shot at Mr. Hollywood, Kevin Daniels.

Kevin Scott: That’s right Woodward.  I’ve been waiting for this moment for over two months because I did not lose that match at Extreme Election Night 2020.  Kevin Daniels did not pin me.  There was no one-two-three pinfall.  I did not submit.  I was not counted out.  Daniels was given the title and… I’m sorry, that’s not going to fly.

Woodward Bernstein: So, suffice to say, you’re plenty motivated.

Kevin Scott: Oh you bet I am.

Woodward Bernstein: Can you do it one more time?

Scott smiles.

Kevin Scott: Watch me.  I’m going to do it tonight.

Woodward Bernstein: Thanks Kevin.

Scott exits.

‘MR.  HOLLYWOOD’ KEVIN DANIELS INTERVIEW Cut to the Progressive Alliance locker room.

Dan Miller ‘Low Level Washington Post Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Sharon Johns ‘Low Level CNN Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Interview with PCW champion “Mr. Hollywood” Kevin Daniels.

Dan Miller: Kevin.  Starz N. Stripes Kevin Scott is sadly making the unsubstantiated claim that you did not defeat him at Extreme Election Night 2020.  Your thoughts.

Kevin Daniels: Dan, I beat him.  The crowd saw me beat him.  The referee said I beat him.  The referee is the final arbiter in these matters and I didn’t see PCW Owner Dawn McGill sticking her nose in to say anything different.  So I won.  I’m the champion.  Kevin Scott needs to get over it.

Daniels points to the PCW title belt around his waist to further make his point.

Sharon Johns: So Kevin.  With the win, I heard you received a lot of well wishes and congratulations from your fellow Hollywood stars.

Kevin Daniels: Absolutely.

Daniels goes on to name check just about every major Hollywood star, sports figures, you name it, Daniels name checks it, who reached out and congratulated him on winning the PCW title.

Kevin Daniels: Hollywood knows a champion when they see one.  And that’s me.  Mr. Hollywood.  Kevin Daniels.  YOUR PCW champion.

Sharon Johns: Thanks Kevin and make sure you kick Kevin Scott’s ass tonight.

Kevin Daniels: With pleasure.

STILL ON THE ROAD Still rolling westbound on the Ohio Turnpike, a harried and anxious Dawn McGill is on the phone again.

Dawn McGill: …what?  The main event is about to start?  But we’re still …

McGill spies a mile marker.

Dawn McGill: …sixty-five miles away!

She leans forward in her seat and whaps McAvay on the shoulder.  McAvay reacts.

Ray McAvay: Hey!  I’m driving as fast as I can without picking up a SECOND speeding ticket!

McGill wraps up the call and again falls back in her seat.   She shakes her head.

Cut back to the broadcast desk.

Johnny Suave: All right.  Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our main event.  Let’s go to Kimber Marshall in the ring.  Kimber?

Cut to Kimber in the ring.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, this match will be…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

Kimber Marshall: …and it will be for the PCW Title!  Introducing first, the challenger…

Toby Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue comes on.

Kimber Marshall: From Ottumwa, Iowa and representing the American Patriots tonight in the red corner.  He is a former 2 time PCW Champion, a former PCW Television Champion, and former PCW Tag Team Champion.  PCW’s Original ‘Rookie Sensation.’  STARZ N. STRIPES… KEVIN!  SCOTT!

‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott –former 2 time PCW Champion, PCW Television Champion, and PCW Tag Team Champion (as Starz N. Stripes).  PCW’s Original ‘Rookie Sensation.’ HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 250, HOME: Ottumwa, IA / FIN: American Stars and Fujiawa Arm Bar

Scott comes out dressed in a red, white, and blue signet and mask. He stops on the stage and poses for the PCW faithful who give Scott a massive standing ovation.

Johnny Suave: After Trump’s speech, the crowd energy level has hit a different level.  They are really making a lot of noise here tonight.

Crowder harrumphs and tells Suave it’s nothing.  It doesn’t matter.

Kimber Marshall: And his opponent, from Hollywood, California-

The cheers turn on a dime to boos.  Big time boos.

Kimber Marshall: He is accompanied tonight by The Skanky Rich Bimbos-Paris and Nicole, and ‘Country…er…Pop Songstress’ Taylor Switt.  The PCW Champion.  Ladies and gentlemen.  Mr. Hollywood.  KEVIN DANIELS!

‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels HT: 6′ 0″ WT: 200 / HOME: Hollywood, CA / FIN: The True Hollywood Blockbuster VALETS: The Skanky Rich Bimbos (Paris and Nicole) and ‘Country…er…Pop Songstress’ Taylor Switt

******************************************

MAIN EVENT-PCW TITLE MATCH

‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) © vs. ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott (American Patriots)

******************************************

The boos and jeers intensify.  Again, debris flies towards the new PCW champion.

Johnny Suave: Kevin Daniels is getting a rough reception here tonight.  I’d almost say too rough if you ask me.

Colleen Crowder: Nobody’s asking you… but you’re right.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Berkeley, California Professor McCarthy also comes out followed by his Flock: -The Green World Order: GreenPete, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, PeaceNick, and Peta from PETA -The Young Jerks: Zenk Cryger, James Idaho, and Anna -Code Pink, and Emily S. List.

Johnny Suave: Wonderful.  And just when you thought the evening couldn’t get any worse.

Colleen Crowder: Finally.  Someone needs to set these people straight and tell them to shut up.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Professor McCarthy: Well, well.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

McCarthy smirks and waits for the crowd.

Professor McCarthy: You can do this all night long and it won’t mean a damn thing.  We have won several great victories here in the last two months.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Professor McCarthy: That’s right, one- we’ve taken out Dawn McGill.  Two, we’ve taken down Donald Trump.  Three- we’ve finally shouted down the Deplorables, removed Deplorables Charlie Blackwell and ‘Extreme Pizza Delivery Girl’ Tessa Martin as viable threats and made sure ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels was crowned as the rightful PCW champion, Kathryn Randall Collins- the rightful PCW Women’s champion and we’ve taken measures to ensure Deplorables Ray McAvay and William Daniels Bryan won’t be allowed near the PCW Tag Team title.

McCarthy holds up his good book that defines things that are correct or incorrect to say, think, or believe.

Professor McCarthy: Let this be a lesson to everyone.  If you are unenlightened, if you are DEPLORABLE and I’m talking to ALL of you in ‘flyover country,’ red states and, counties all across the nation who aren’t as worldly or intellectually superior as we are, it’s time for you to shut up and listen to your betters.  It’s time for you to throw your support towards us…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Johnny Suave: Yeah, they’re not really going along with that.

Professor McCarthy: …because if you don’t, we will shout you down.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Professor McCarthy: So sit down and shut up and watch your PCW champion shout down ‘Starz N. Stripes-

And more debris rain down from all parts of the bar.

Johnny Suave: He’s not helping.

Colleen Crowder: He’s absolutely right Johnny.  According to the narrative we’re pushing, these people are simply deplorable and they need to shut up and stay in their lane.

At one point, Daniels points at someone and threatens to turn around and head to the back.

Johnny Suave: No, this is not good.  Not good at all.

Daniels takes a few more steps forward and more debris is chucked his way.  Even Starz N. Stripes Kevin Scott takes notice and he tries to calm people down.

The SRB and Switt do turn around and head to backstage.

Colleen Crowder: This is all Donald Trump’s fault.  He encouraged this.  He incited these idiots with his words.

Johnny Suave: Well, whether I agree with that or not, we’re going to have to get security out here before something happens.

Well, it does.

Legion of Anti-Fascists (LOAF) Ted HT: 5′ 11″ WT: 180 / HOME: Portland, OR FIN: The Riot Act Chaz HT: 6′ 1″ WT: 205 / HOME: Seattle, WA FIN: The Riot Act

Ted and Chaz also run down from the back and they start jawing with the crowd.

Johnny Suave: Oh crap.

Then it kicks off.  LOAF disappears into the roiling crowd and all hell breaks loose.

Johnny Suave: Oh no.

Fights break out and debris fly all over the place.

Daniels hightails it to the back.  Scott tries to play peacemaker.  And it just falls apart.

Johnny Suave: We’re going to have to evacuate our broadcast position and get to safety.

Scott helps marshall Suave and Crowder through the unruly mob of humanity.

Suddenly, the picture goes black.

ONE HOUR LATER-HACK’S RUSTY NAIL SALOON PARKING LOT. McAvay pulls into the parking lot full of flashing red and blue lights and plenty of police.

Ray McAvay: Uh oh.

McGill sees it too and she gets a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Dawn McGill: Oh my God.

One of the policemen walks up to the car.  McAvay tells the officer Dawn McGill is the owner of PCW.  He motions to them to park the car away from the building.

After Ray parks the car, he and Dawn walk towards Hack’s they begin to see the full scope of damage.  Broken windows.  Glass all over the place.  Chairs, tables broken in the parking lot.

Dawn McGill: Oh no.

They reach the entrance and look inside.

Ray McAvay: Oh man.  They trashed the place.

Tables and chair strewn all over.  The wrestling ring destroyed.  Broken light fixtures.  Glass all over the floor.  Beer and alcohol all over the floor.

Dawn McGill: Oh no, no, no.

The owner of the bar meets her in the foyer.

Hack’s Owner: Like other small businesses we were in trouble to begin with thanks to COVID, I can’t survive this.

Dawn McGill: I am so sorry.

Hack’s Owner: You work hard.  Do the right things.  Make the right choices.  And this happens.  I’m having the place razed and closing it down.

He just shakes his head at Dawn.  He hands her a torn up contract, and walks on.

McGill peers down at the remnants of the document in her hands.

Then it gets really worse.

She sees the Coke Brothers (David and Charles), George Soros, and… Big Tech’s Jack Dorsey of Twitter and Mark Zuckerberg of Facebook?

George Soros: Well, well, well.  Aren’t you a sight?

Moros refers to Dawn’s disheveled appearance.  McGill’s face turns beet red.

Dawn McGill: You know damn well what happened.  Your goons kidnapped and held me hostage for two months.

George Moros: Really?  All I saw on video was you running out on the show at Extreme Election Night?  Do you have any proof of this or is this just another wild, baseless accusation?

Dawn goes to leap at Moros but McAvay stops her.

Moros has a sick grin on his face.

George Soros: It’s over, Dawn.  You’re through.  I’ve already spoken to the American Patriots and Progressive Alliance and we’ve got everyone on board.  We’re partnering with our new best friend Jack Buckenberg for a new political wrestling show that will be headed by someone you know and love.

Out of the smoke and rubble of the interior of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon walks the ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann- McGill and PCW’s long-time nemesis.

Ray McAvay: Son of a bitch.

Dawn McGill: Balls.  Not him.  Anyone but him.

McMann goes up to McGill.  He smiles.

Mr. McMann: Wow.  You’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you.

Again, McGill starts to make an aggressive move forward.  Again, McAvay pulls her back.

Mr. McMann: It took sixteen years Dawn, but I’ve finally won.  Game over.

Then Jack Dorsey delivers the coup de grace.

Jack Dorsey: Consider yourself deplatformed.

A few minutes later…

McGill, McAvay, and ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave watch Mr. McMann- backed by The Coke Brothers, George Soros, and the founder of the Alan Lincolns Project- Alan Lincolns- give an impromptu press conference attended by The Guild of Low Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves: Colleen Crowder-New York Times, Sharon Johns-CNN, Bill Smithers-Fox News, Hallie Reed-MSNBC, and Dan Miller-Washington Post.

Johnny Suave: Well?  Who’da thunk that the writer of the movie ‘The Running Man’ may have had a pretty good vision what the future transformation of politics, society, and culture had in store for us?

A dejected McGill notes the enthusiastic applause coming from the Guild of Low Level Media people to McMann’s remarks.

Dawn McGill: So this is how liberty dies… with thunderous applause.

Suave turns to McGill.

Johnny Suave: Good line.

Dawn McGill: Thanks.

CUT TO:

Dawn McGill’s House – Wednesday January 20th, 2021 Seated in her favorite comfy chair, munching on a bowl of popcorn and drinking whiskey from a glass on an adjacent table, wearing her favorite sweatshirt and blue jeans, feet propped up on the entertainment stand complete with freshly painted red toenails shining in the light from the nearby lamp, Dawn watches the newly returned Political Wrestling Universe’s Blue Brand aka…PWU Political Shakedown show- live from Washington, D.C.

What’s happening?  The official installation of Joe Biden as the new CEO of PCW.

Dawn pops a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth and reflects on what’s happened over the past three months: -the return of PCW and Extreme Election Night 2020- a night where the Progressive Alliance swept everything and took full control of the PCW Executive Committee.   -her abduction at the hands of the big money financiers of both the Progressive Alliance (George Soros) and American Patriots (The Coke Brothers), aided and abetted by Alan Lincoln’s Project, during Extreme Election Night and subsequent detention for almost two months before The Deplorables came to her rescue. -the riot that took place at Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon that destroyed the spiritual home of PCW for over 15 years which leads to the return of ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann and the end of PCW.

Dawn McGill: *sigh*

On the TV, following a star-studded, Hollywood-style production in the midst of heavy security including troops from the Space Force dressed in white and black with white helmets to usher in the beginning of new CEO of PCW Joe Biden’s tenure, the new CEO of PCW is delivering his acceptance speech.

Biden stands behind the podium.  His wrinkled seventy-six year old face is covered in a dark shroud and his eyes occasionally shoot out bolts of lightning when he gesticulates.

Joe Biden (from the television): People, supporters of Political Championship Wrestling, today we mark a transition. For years, PCW stood as the conduit for people who were fed up with the status quo, fed up with politics as usual.  But there were those within our fan base who would set us against one another for we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within.  These “supporters” conspired to create a shadow of doubt on my appointment aided and abetted by the previous PCW CEO.

Dawn stuffs another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

Joe Biden: The riot two and a half weeks ago left PCW scarred and deformed.  But I can assure you my resolve has never been stronger. The war is over.  The Trumpists been defeated, and the riot… er… I mean…… insurrection has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning.  With that in mind, in order to ensure the security and continuing stability and for a safe and secure society, Political Championship Wrestling will be reorganized into the Political Wrestling Universe and PCW will cease to exist.

Another sigh.  Dawn then reaches over and takes a sip of whiskey.

Joe Biden: By bringing the political universal under our enlightened guidance, the corruption that plagued PCW in the past few years under the ownership of Dawn McGill will never take root ever again.

McGill rolls her eyes and chucks a piece of popcorn at the TV.

Biden then puts on what appears to be the same Infinity Gauntlet that Donald Trump used last year to end the Red and Blue Brand shows.

What Infinity Gauntlet you may ask?

[REPLAY: 5/2/2019-Donald Trump (R-NY)]

The CEO of Political Championship Wrestling Donald Trump explains why the Red Brand and Blue Brand went dark, shows were cancelled, and why PCW ran replays of shows from ten years ago over the past two weeks. Short and to the point, Trump states the current method of doing business with three brands wasn’t working so, he felt it was time to make a change.

Trump reaches under the podium and pulls out an Infinity Gauntlet (ie…the very same Infinity Gauntlet featured in the recent Avengers movie). He places said Infinity Gauntlet on his right hand. Trump raises his hand in the air.

Then he attaches a red stone to the gauntlet. Then he snaps his fingers and says Red Brand is no more. The press- except for most of the Fox News contingent – let out a loud cheer.

Trump then attaches a blue stone to the gauntlet and snaps his fingers and proclaims the Blue Brand. No more. The press- except for most of the Fox News contingent – groan.

Then Trump attaches a white and black stone with PCW written on it to the gauntlet. But this time he doesn’t snap his fingers. Trump announces he’d made PCW owner Dawn McGill a generous offer for PCW that sets her up for life and she accepted.

Joe Biden: With this Infinity Gauntlet, with one snap of my fingers I brought back the Blue Brand show and here all of you are watching PWU’s Political Shakedown show.  Also with one snap of my fingers, I brought back the Red Brand show- PWU’s Politico War – which will return next Monday night. 

Biden pauses for applause.

Joe Biden: Under our New Order, our most cherished beliefs will be safeguarded. We will defend our ideals by force of arms.

Behind Biden, George Soros, The Coke Brothers, the CEO of Twitter Jack Dorsey, and the founder of the Alan Lincolns Project- Alan Lincolns, all approve and applaud.

The camera then focuses in on Berkeley, California professor- Professor McCarthy- and his Flock: -The Green World Order: GreenPete, ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee, PeaceNick, and Peta from PETA -The Young Jerks: Zenk Cryger, James Idaho, and Anna -Code Pink, and Emily S. List

The Flock also applaud Biden’s speech and Professor McCarthy wipes a tear from his eyes while he holds up the ‘good book that spells out what’s correct and incorrect to think, say, and believe’

Next, the Hollywood Left and sports celebrities from all different walks signal their approval with applause.

Joe Biden: We will give no ground to our enemies and we will stand together against attacks from with or without. Let our enemies take heed.  Those who challenge our resolve will be crushed. 

The Guild of Low Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves: Colleen Crowder-New York Times, Sharon Johns-CNN, Bill Smithers-Fox News, Hallie Reed-MSNBC, and Dan Miller-Washington Post all heartily applaud this line.

Joe Biden: And now, with this Infinity Gauntlet, I will wipe out of existence once and for all- PCW.

‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann stands and claps.

Dawn closes her eyes and braces herself.

Biden snaps his finger.

[‘Trumpet Concerto No. 2 in D major – 3 Allegro assai’ begins to play in the background and P-SPAN quickly cuts away to another political event.]

THE END…

[pcwpolwrestling]

12/21-PCW Extreme Political TV

Last Week on PCW Extreme Political TV: -Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (Progressive Alliance) and Marjorie Taylor-Greene (American Patriots) get into it backstage and then… -MATCH #1: Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (Progressive Alliance) vs. Marjorie Taylor-Greene (American Patriots)- no contest when Lauren Boebert (American Patriots) and Jasmine Crockett (Progressive Alliance) interfere. -Atom Splitter 3000 commercial -DOGE Commercial -PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland Coalition) promo. -Paul Finebaum grouses about Alabama being left out of the college football playoffs. Main Street USA confronts him and stand up for the smaller colleges leading to a match being made for the next show. -Neal Conn (American Patriots)- making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order… cuts a promo. -MoneyMaker 3000 commercial -Last Call Funeral Parlor commercial -‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) cuts a promo. -MAIN EVENT-PCW TITLE: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) © defeated Neal Conn (American Patriots) and ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance)

Political Championship Wrestling 2024 Christmas Show Peru State Field House Peru, Nebraska Saturday December 21st, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: The Deplorables: Ray McAvay/’Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan (American Heartland Coalition) The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

The Peru State Field House thrums with anticipation, a sea of red-capped heads and camouflage jackets packed into the rickety bleachers. The air is thick with the smell of popcorn and partisan fervor.

Johnny Suave’s voice booms through the arena.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Extreme Political TV!

He pauses, savoring the thunderous applause.

Johnny Suave: I’m ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave, and boy, do we have a show for you tonight!

Suave’s co-host shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her black hair catching the glare of the spotlight. He turns to her with a smirk.

Johnny Suave: And joining me tonight is the ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself,’ Colleen Crowder!

Colleen forces a tight smile, her green eyes narrowing behind her glasses.

Colleen Crowder: Here we go again. Another night of pandering to the lowest common denominator.

Johnny Suave: Before we get started, I’d like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas!

Colleen visibly cringes.

Colleen Crowder: Johnny…

Her voice projects with a forced politeness.

Colleen Crowder: …perhaps we should consider using more inclusive language. Not everyone celebrates Christmas, you know.

Suave rolls his eyes dramatically, eliciting cheers from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: Oh, for crying out loud, Colleen. It’s Christmas! Lighten up!

Colleen Crowder: It’s not about lightening up.  It’s about respecting diversity and-

Johnny Suave: And putting everyone to sleep.  Now, let’s get to tonight’s lineup!

As Suave rattles off the evening’s matches, Colleen seethes silently.

Johnny Suave: First up, we’ve got the Green World Order! ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee and GreenPete are here to lecture us all on the evils of meat and fossil fuels!

Colleen Crowder: At least someone’s thinking about the planet.

Suave ignores her.

Johnny Suave: And in the other corner, we’ve got the Vice Squad! Al Cahall and Nic Koteen are here to promote politically incorrect personal choices!

Colleen Crowder (sarcastically): You mean they’re promoting freedom of choice.

Johnny Suave: Exactly! Then, we’ve got the big showdown between The SEC Squad with Paul Fineman and Main Street USA!

Colleen Crowder: Because nothing says ‘democracy’ like pitting Wall Street against small businesses in a wrestling match.

Johnny Suave: Nothing says ‘democracy’ like Congress ignoring the will of the people and presenting a pork-ladened spending bill right after a change election.

Colleen Crowder (sarcastically): Don’t worry. Incoming PCW CEO Elon Musk saved the day.

Johnny Suave: Oooh. Is that the new spin legacy media is throwing out now?  Sounds like they didn’t learn anything after ABC had to cough up fifteen million dollars to Donald Trump.

Colleen Crowder: …

Johnny Suave: And in our main event, the annual Nakatomi Plaza Death Match!

Colleen Crowder: Ah yes, nothing says ‘Christmas spirit’ like a death match named after an action movie.

Johnny Suave: It’s called entertainment, Colleen. Maybe if you lightened up a little, you’d actually enjoy yourself for once.

Colleen Crowder: I know how to enjoy-

“WE’RE CHANGING EVERYTHING!”

Green World Order Valet: Peta from PETA HT: 5’ 8” WT: 123 / HOME: Los Angeles, CA GreenPete HT: 5′ 11″ WT: 195 / HOME: Los Angeles, CA / FIN: Harpoon (modified spear or gore) ‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 192 / HOME: New York City, NY / FIN: The Juicer PeaceNick– HT: 5′ 10″ WT: 180 / HOME: Bremerton, WA / FIN: Chloroform

The crowd boos as the Green World Order come to the ring.

Colleen Crowder: This is something I will enjoy.

Johnny Suave: Oh, great. I have this strange feeling of déjà vu – like my Christmas spirit is about to get sucked right out of me.

Johnny isn’t far off.  PeaceNick gets on the mic.

PeaceNick (screeching): WE’RE CHANGING EVERYTHING!

More boos.

PeaceNick: I am here to complain about the Christmas decorations because it’s insensitive to non-Christians.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Peta from PETA: How about those ax-wielding murderers deforesting our land and cutting down ‘poor, innocent pine trees’ to be used as Christmas trees.  How would you like it if someone came around, chopped your feet off with an axe, drug you home, and put ornaments and lights all over you?

Random Guy in the Audience: I’m game!

Peta from PETA: Okay.  That’s just sick.  I demand the Christmas décor be removed.

And that brings out Colleen Crowder’s most favorite person…

Johnny Suave: And here we go… PCW owner Dawn McGill!

Colleen Crowder: Swell.

Dawn walks out in a festive way sporting a sexy Santa outfit complete with a mistletoe necklace and green and red fishnet stockings. The crowd bows down and chants: “We’re not worthy!”

Dawn McGill: Hey GWO.  If you don’t like the decorations, there’s the door and don’t let it hit your ass when you leave.

She receives a standing ovation from the crowd. This infuriates Peta.

Peta from PETA: You need to take down all the Christmas decorations… or else.

Dawn McGill: I’m sorry, are you threatening me?

Brock Cole Lee: The Christmas decorations are offensive to people who are not Christians and I demand you remove the offensive display immediately.

Dawn McGill: No.

Peta from PETA: Then you’ve left the GWO with no other recourse.

She jumps Dawn and wraps a garland around her neck.

Colleen Crowder: It’s an early Christmas present!

Johnny Suave: The GWO have attacked Dawn McGIll!

The crowd unloads on the GWO until help comes out.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE!  IS THAT?

Colleen Crowder: Aw… not these guys.

It’s the return of the Vice Squad- promoting Politically Incorrect Personal Choices since 2005– who charge the ring looking for a fight.

The Vice Squad Al Cahall HT: 5′ 11″ WT: 212 / HOME: Memphis, TN Nic Koteen HT: 5′ 11″ WT: 175 / HOME: Tampa, FL Dave Hibachi HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 265 / HOME: Oak Ridge, IN MGR: General DeBauchery

Johnny Suave: HERE WE GO!  THERE’S A REFEREE IN THE RING AND WE HAVE A MATCH!

MATCH #1: THE VICE SQUAD: Nic Koteen, Al Cahall and Dave Hibachi vs. THE GREEN WORLD ORDER: GreenPete and Brock Cole Lee and PeaceNick Nic Koteen throws a toy box full of weapons into the ring.

Johnny Suave: Al Cahall and GreenPete will start. Peta continues to choke out Dawn with the garland.

Hibachi and Lee brawl on the outside and Koteen opens the toy box. In the ring…

Johnny Suave: GreenPete takes control with an elbow drop and a dropkick. Cahall hits a reverse DDT on GreenPete.

Koteen grabs some lights out of the toy box and wraps a strand around Brock Cole Lee’s neck which allows Cahall to deliver a couple of swift kicks to the Extreme Vegan.

Johnny Suave: Hibachi double clotheslines PeaceNick and GreenPete.

Colleen Crowder: Boo!  Come on GWO!

The crowd pops when Hibachi empties out the toy box and dumps the box over PeaceNick’s head.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

GreenPete picks up a chair and tries to crush it over Hibachi’s head but Hibachi grabs him by the throat and chokeslams him through the bellkeeper’s table.

Colleen Crowder: Ugh.

Koteen puts the remnants of the toy box over Brock Cole Lee’s head and DDT’s him.

Johnny Suave: DDT by Koteen and now he wraps his fist full of Christmas lights.

Colleen Crowder: Oh no…

Johnny Suave: Koteen to the top rope… HE DIVES ON TOP OF LEE!

Koteen crushes the glass lights in Lee’s forehead.

Colleen Crowder: There is NO need for that!

Johnny Suave: WAIT! HERE COMES GREENPETE!

GreenPete slingshots himself out of the ring and lands on Koteen. GreenPete tries to free Brock Cole Lee. Cahall climbs the top turnbuckle and leaps down on GreenPete – Lee goes at Koteen.

Johnny Suave: IT’S ALL CHAOS NOW!

Dawn escapes and punches Peta from PETA.

Johnny Suave: McGill gets away from Peta and…

She puts Peta over her knee and begins to spank her.

Johnny Suave: …and that’s long overdue!

Peta: THAT’S CORPORAL PUNISHMENT! YOU CAN’T DO THAT! IT’S ILLEGAL!

Johnny Suave: Brock Cole Lee staggers back into the ring. Koteen and Cahall attack GreenPete, but PeaceNick picks up a steel-folding chair… wait, what is he doing?

*WHACK*

*WHACK*

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!  PeaceNick takes both of them out in a violent…

Colleen Crowder: …but in the most non-violent way possible.

PeaceNick does condemn himself afterward.

Johnny Suave: Lee covers Cahall.  One. Two. NO! DAVE HIBACHI MAKES THE SAVE! NOW HIBACHI’S CHOKING LEE FROM BEHIND!

Colleen Crowder: How is that legal?

Lee staggers backward and falls into the corner turnbuckle- squashing Hibachi in the process.

Colleen Crowder: At least something good came of it.

Johnny Suave: Now, PeaceNick moves to cover Cahall himself.  One… two… Koteen makes the save.

*WHACK*

Johnny Suave: GreenPete waffles Koteen with a steel chair.  But WAIT!

*WHAP*

Cahall missile dropkicks the chair into GreenPete’s face.

Colleen Crowder: How is that legal?

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Everyone is down in the ring

Johnny Suave: Who will get up first.

Peta from PETA hops in the ring and kicks Cahall in the balls.

Colleen Crowder: That’s it, Peta!

Johnny Suave It probably won’t be Al Cahall.

Nic Koteen rises from the deck and flies across the ring to knock her out of the ring.  Peta hits the steel barricade hard.

Peta from PETA: Ow…

Colleen Crowder: That was not called for.

Johnny Suave: GreenPete then gets up and grabs an arm wrench on Koteen.  GreenPete takes Koteen to the corner, reversal and…

*SLAP*

Johnny Suave: …OOH, chops by Koteen.

Koteen steps back and cuts down GreenPete.

Johnny Suave: Clothesline by Koteen… now a leg drop by Koteen. Kick to the gut to Koteen followed by punches. Brock Cole Lee starts to pull himself up.

Colleen Crowder: Come on Brock!  Get up!

Johnny Suave: GreenPete catapults Koteen towards Lee but Hibachi jumps on Lee’s back and chokes him.

Lee spins around wildly.

Johnny Suave: Cahall pulls GreenPete and slings him through the ropes out of the ring.  Hibachi holds on for dear life as Lee desperately tries to get him off his back.

Colleen Crowder: Get him off Brock Cole Lee.  That’s a choke!

Johnny Suave: GreenPete climbs back in and gets caught in a drop-toe hold by Cahall. Koteen then hits a cross body.

Brock Cole Lee now down to his knees.

Johnny Suave: Lee’s fading fast.

Lee topples face-first to the canvas.

Colleen Crowder: NOOOO!

Johnny Suave: The referee’s checking.

The referee lifts Lee’s arm up and it flops back to the ground.

Crowd: One.

The ref lifts Lee’s up again. It goes back down.

Crowd: Two!

Johnny Suave: GreenPete tries to get to Hibachi but Cahall holds on for dear life.

The referee lifts Lee’s arm again. It plummets back down. The referee calls for the bell.

Johnny Suave: That’s it!

Ring announcer Kimber Marshall climbs into the ring to render the final decision.

Kimber Marshall: Your winner at seven minutes and forty-one seconds… THE VICE SQUAD!

Koteen, Cahall, Hibachi, and General DeBauchery celebrate.  Christmas music plays.  Everyone toasts each other and guzzles down some Christmas egg-nog.

Johnny Suave’s voice booms through the arena as the crowd goes wild.

Johnny Suave: We’ll be right back after these messages from our sponsors!

***

The Dave Ramsey Show Announcer Guy: Next time on the Dave Ramsey Show…

The familiar jingle of the Dave Ramsey show fills the air. There they are: Chuck Schumer and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, looking as out of place as vegans at a barbecue competition.

Dave Ramsey’s voice cuts through the awkward silence.

Dave Ramsey: Alright, folks, today we have two very special guests who need some serious financial advice. Chuck, AOC, let’s start with the basics. What’s your monthly budget look like?

Schumer clears his throat.

Chuck Schumer: Well, Dave, as a senator, I believe in investing in America’s future. We can’t put a price tag on progress.

Ramsey’s eyebrows shoot up.

Dave Ramsey: So… you don’t have a budget?

Chuck Schumer: No. We’ve been spending tax dollars via continuing resolutions.

When Congress and the president fail to agree on and pass one or more of the regular appropriations bills, a continuing resolution can be passed instead. A continuing resolution continues the pre-existing appropriations at the same levels as the previous fiscal year (or with minor modifications) for a set amount of time. Continuing resolutions typically provide funding at a rate or formula based on the previous year’s funding.

Dave Ramsey: Or you’re just kicking the can down the road for someone else to deal with.

AOC jumps in, her voice passionate.

AOC: Budgets are just a tool of the capitalist patriarchy to keep the working class down. We need to think bigger!”

Ramsey, visibly flustered, tries again.

Dave Ramsey: Okay, let’s try something simpler. If you have $100 and you spend $150, what happens?

Schumer and AOC exchange confused glances. Schumer attempts an answer.

Chuck Schumer: We… stimulate the economy?

AOC nods vigorously.

AOC: Exactly! It’s all about circulation of wealth!

Ramsey puts his head in his hands.

Dave Ramsey: No, no, no! You go into debt! You can’t spend money you don’t have! That’s why the national debt is now approaching thirty-five trillion dollars.  Spending trillions of dollars more than you take in is a bad idea.

Both Schumer and AOC look at him with blank expressions.

Dave Ramsey: Wow.

***

A DOGE Commercial The screen fades to black, then a rugged American landscape appears.

Booming Announcer Guy: In a world of bloated bureaucracy…

Elon Musk’s face fills the frame, wind tousling his hair as he stands atop a rocky outcrop.

Elon Musk: America needs a leaner, meaner government machine.

Cut to Vivek Ramaswamy, striding purposefully across the Washington Mall.

Vivek Ramaswamy: That’s why we’ve created DOGE – the Department of Government Efficiency.

A montage flashes by: stacks of papers being shredded, computers shutting down, “CLOSED” signs appearing on agency doors.

Musk, now behind the wheel of a cybertruck, grins.

Elon Musk: We’re trimming the fat and cutting the red tape.

Ramaswamy, seated beside him, adds…

Vivek Ramaswamy: And we’re doing it faster than you can say ‘balanced budget.’

The truck careens through D.C., leaving bewildered bureaucrats in its wake. Musk thinks, This is even more fun than Twitter.

Vivek Ramaswamy: With DOGE, we’re not just making government smaller. We’re making it work for you.

The cybertruck screeches to a halt before the Capitol. Both men leap out, striding towards the building with purpose.

Musk turns to the camera.

Elon Musk: Because in Trump’s America, efficiency isn’t just a buzzword.

Vivek Ramaswamy: It’s a way of life.

As they reach the steps, Musk can’t help but smirk. Who knew government work could be this entertaining?

The screen fades to black, revealing the DOGE logo – a Shiba Inu wearing a red “Make America Great Again” hat.

***

Back from commercial…

Colleen Crowder Interviews The Guild of Low-Level Journalists Trying to Make a Name for Themselves The crowd’s roar fades as Colleen Crowder adjusts her glasses, a glint of ambition in her green eyes. She leans forward, microphone in hand, addressing her fellow journalists who’ve joined her at the broadcast table.

Colleen Crowder: Welcome, esteemed colleagues of the legacy media. Let’s cut to the chase. Who’s really pulling the strings in PCW these days?”

Sharon Johns from CNN jumps in, her ponytail swinging as she speaks.

Sharon Johns: It’s clear as day, Colleen. Elon Musk is the puppet master, and Trump’s just dancing to his tune.

Hallie Reed from MSNBC chimes in.

Hallie Reed: Absolutely. Our sources indicate Musk’s tweets are basically executive orders at this point.

Doug Miles of the Washington Post also adds.

Doug Miles: And let’s not forget, Musk’s takeover of Twitter gives him unprecedented control over the flow of information.  I concur with my esteemed colleagues. Musk’s influence is a clear and present danger to democracy.

But then…

Man’s Voice: Hold on there…

Johnny Suave: Wait! That’s Scott Jennings… CNN’s conservative pundit!

Scott Jennings: A real CNN pundit.  (to the Guild) Who’s the CEO of PCW right now?  It’s Joe Biden right?

Colleen’s eyes narrow.

Colleen Crowder: Scott, you’re missing the point-

But Jennings presses on.

Scott Jennings: Yes… it is Joe Biden, who we rarely hear from, of whom The Wall Street Journal reported has been diminished for the last four years, and we’ve had unelected people running things, apparently.

The Guild all exchange anxious glances with each other.

Scott Jennings: If that is what they’re worried about, if they’re worried about people who aren’t Donald Trump, you know, running things or having influence, I wonder where they’ve been the last four years.

Suave finally joins in.

Johnny Suave: And correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the Progressive Alliance just fine with billionaires Soros, Gates, Buffett, and Zuckerberg throwing their weight around? What makes Musk different?

The Guild members exchange nervous glances, their carefully constructed narrative teetering.

Colleen Crowder: That’s not the-

Johnny Suave: Hold on!  We need to cut away to a special edition of ‘How Dare You?’

Colleen and the rest of the Guild become indignant.

Colleen Crowder: WHAT?  You’re cutting us off for-

Eva McAvay’s “How Dare You?” The camera cuts abruptly to a miniature podium emblazoned with the words “How Dare You?” in bold red letters. Behind it stands nine-year-old Eva McAvay, her piercing eyes blazing with righteous fury as she glares directly into the camera.

Eva McAvay: How dare you?

Eva’s small frame trembles with indignation. She slams her fist on the podium, causing it to wobble precariously.

Eva McAvay: Progressive Alliance… American Patriots… you have betrayed the American people once again!

Eva’s mind races, fueled by a mix of anger and disappointment.

Eva McAvay: These politicians never learn, do they? They’re like spoiled children refusing to clean their room… not that I would know anything about that… but…

She quickly moves on.

Eva McAvay: …a month and a half ago, Donald Trump defeated Kamala Harris with a vow to drain the swamp, to put an end to wasteful spending.

Eva’s voice rises, her blonde hair whipping around her face as she gestures forcefully.

Eva McAvay: And what do you do? You try to sneak through a pork-laden continuing resolution!

She pauses, her chest heaving with emotion. The studio lights glint off the determination in her eyes.

Eva McAvay: To the Progressive Alliance and the American Patriots, I say this: You are not patriots. You are not progressive. You are parasites, feeding off the hard work of everyday Americans!

Eva’s thoughts turn to her mother, Dawn. She knows Dawn might not approve of her harsh words, but sometimes the truth needs to be spoken, no matter how uncomfortable.

Eva McAvay: The people demanded change. They demanded fiscal responsibility. And you… you dare to ignore them?

She leans forward, her small hands gripping the edges of the podium.

Eva McAvay: Well, I won’t be ignored. The American people won’t be ignored. We see through your games, your backroom deals, your empty promises.

In her mind, Eva pictures the corridors of power in Washington, filled with smug politicians patting themselves on the back. It makes her blood boil.

Eva McAvay: So I ask you again, Congress…

Eva’s voice builds to a crescendo, her face flushed with passion.

Eva McAvay: HOW DARE YOU?

The final words echo through the studio as Eva glares defiantly into the camera, daring anyone to challenge her righteous anger.

***

Commercial Break A fast-paced commercial jingle plays…

Announcer Guy: “Are you tired of being broke? Sick of the government printing money while you struggle? Well, say hello to the revolutionary MoneyMaker 3000!”

Camera pans across a dorm room where a scrawny college student with wild hair and thick glasses stands proudly next to a bizarre contraption

Genius College Student: Hi, I’m Devin, and I’ve solved the financial crisis with science!

Announcer Guy: That’s right, folks! This genius has created a do-it-yourself money printer that’ll make you richer than your wildest dreams!

Montage of people using the MoneyMaker 3000.

Announcer Guy: Watch as Susan pays off her student loans with freshly printed cash! See Tom buy a yacht with crisp bills straight from the machine! Marvel at little Timmy becoming the richest kid on the playground!

Genius College Student: If the Fed can do it, why can’t we?

Announcer Guy: But wait, there’s more! Order now and we’ll throw in our patented ‘Audit Avoider’ software! Keep those pesky IRS agents off your back!”

Scene of a man swimming in a pool filled with money.

Announce Guy: Imagine never worrying about bills again! Buy anything you want! Heck, buy the whole store!

Suddenly, loud banging is heard.

FBI Agent: FBI! Open up!

Genius College Student [panicking]: Oh no, they’ve found me!

Doors burst open, agents rush in.

Announcer Guy [speaking rapidly]: The MoneyMaker 3000 is not approved by any government agency. Use at your own risk. Side effects may include hyperinflation, economic collapse, and federal prison time. Batteries not included.

Agents handcuff the student.

Genius College Student [being dragged away]: You can’t stop the financial revolution!

Announcer Guy: MoneyMaker 3000 – because why should the government have all the fun?

Commercial abruptly ends with static…

***

Back from commercial…

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our main event!

MAIN EVENT: The SEC Squad (The Alabama Kid and Gator Bates w/Brice Brantley and Paul Finebaum) vs. Main Street USA (Farmer John Deer and Ken Worth-American Trucker w/Tequila Sheila) Kimber Marshall struts to the center of the ring, her long legs accentuated by her glittering outfit. She raises the microphone, her voice filled with excitement.

Kimber Marshall: Making their way to the ring, representing the heart and soul of America, Main Street USA!

The twang of country music fills the air as Farmer John Deer and Ken Worth emerge from behind the curtain, led by the vivacious Tequila Sheila. John’s weathered hands wave to the crowd, while Ken’s eyes scan the arena, taking in the sea of fans.

Kimber Marshall: From Redwood Falls, Minnesota, standing 6’3″ and weighing in at 265 pounds, Farmer John Deer!

John flexes his muscular arms, built from years of hard work on the farm.

Kimber Marshall: And his partner, from Gary, Indiana, standing 6’2″ and weighing 225 pounds, Ken Worth, the American Trucker!

Ken adjusts his trucker cap, a smile playing on his lips as he hears the cheers.

As Main Street USA settles into their corner, Kimber’s voice rises again.

Kimber Marshall: And their opponents, The SEC Squad!

A chorus of boos erupts as Gator Bates and The Alabama Kid swagger onto the stage, flanked by Brice Brantley and Paul Finebaum. The SEC Squad’s entrance music, a mashup of “Sweet Home Alabama” and the Florida Gators’ fight song, blares through the speakers.

Finebaum grabs the microphone, his face twisted in a sneer.

Paul Finebaum: Well, well, well. Look what we have here. A couple of hayseeds thinking they can step into the ring with the SEC’s finest.

He pauses, reveling in the crowd’s hostility.

Paul Finebaum: Let me tell you something. Indiana, SMU, Clemson- they’re all frauds who had no business being in the playoffs ahead of Alabama.

Johnny Suave leans into his microphone.

Johnny Suave: Strong words from Finebaum. Of course, you could make the same claim about Tennessee who looked completely hopeless against Ohio State.  Colleen, what do you make of this?

Colleen Crowder adjusts her glasses, her voice full of sarcasm.

Colleen Crowder: Oh, I’m sure his completely unbiased opinion has nothing to do with his SEC loyalties, Johnny.

Paul Finebaum: Tennessee? They’re not frauds. They’re an SEC team and Ohio State was obviously motivated by their loss to Michigan.

He points at John and Ken.

Paul Finebaum: And just like we exposed those frauds, we’re going to show everyone what happens when you mess with the SEC!

As The SEC Squad charges towards the ring, John Deer cracks his knuckles, a determined glint in his eye.

Farmer John Deer: Ken, looks like these city slickers need a lesson in good ol’ fashioned farm boy strength.

Ken nods, a grin spreading across his face.

Ken Worth: Aye, John. Time to show ’em what the heartland’s made of. Let’s plow these fields!

The bell rings, and the match begins, with Main Street USA ready to prove that the backbone of America can stand up to anyone – even the mighty SEC.

Johnny Suave: Here we go!  The Alabama Kid and Gator Bates explode into the ring and their eyes are wild with SEC fury. Brice Brantley, the SEC’s enforcer, is hot on their heels. It’s a three-on-two brawl, fists flying faster than corn prices during a drought.

John Deer takes a hard right from Gator Bates, his weathered face contorting. Ken Worth catches an elbow from The Alabama Kid, stumbling back.

Johnny Suave: The SEC Squad is overwhelming Main Street USA! But wait… IT’S AVERAGE JOE!

Average Joe bursts from the stage, a blue-collar blur racing to even the odds. He slides into the ring, immediately clotheslining Brantley.

Ken Worth: Now we’ve got ourselves a fair fight!

The referee finally manages to restore order, shooing the extra combatants out of the ring.

Johnny Suave: John Deer and The Alabama Kid square off, now circling each other like two bulls in a field.

The Alabama Kid lunges, attempting a spinebuster, but John twists away, years of farm work paying off in raw strength and agility.

Johnny Suave: Deer escapes what could have been a devastating move!

Colleen Crowder: Unlike escaping crushing student loan debt.

The match intensifies, a whirlwind of rural grit versus SEC bravado. It’s anyone’s game as Main Street USA fights to prove they’re no pushovers in this political wrestling arena.

Johnny Suave: The Alabama Kid’s going for a backsplash… NO!  He meets nothing but John Deer’s raised knees.

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd. Deer seizes the moment, his farmer’s strength on full display as he hoists The Alabama Kid for a thunderous Blue Thunder Bomb.

Johnny Suave: HUGE MOVE BY DEER!  HE COVERS!

“One! Two!” The referee’s hand slaps the mat, but The Alabama Kid kicks out at the last second.

Johnny Suave: NO!  Deer nearly had it there! The heartland’s showing it’s got some fight left!

Paul Finebaum, at ringside, scowls, his face a picture of SEC indignation.

Johnny Suave: A flurry of tags brings Gator Bates and Ken Worth into the fray.

Bates immediately goes on the offensive, his moves as quick and unpredictable as Florida weather.

Johnny Suave: Bates is cleaning house!  Gator executes a running powerslam on Worth… he turns and plants Farmer John Deer with another.

Bates attempts a spinebuster on Worth, but John Deer, seeing his partner in trouble, shoves Bates onto the cover, breaking it up. That brings in the other two and it’s a free-for-all.

Johnny Suave: The ring erupts into chaos!  All four men trading blows back and forth!

The crowd roars as Bates’ massive arm connects with Deer’s chest, sending the farmer flying over the top rope and crashing to the floor. The sickening thud of flesh meeting concrete echoes through the arena.

Johnny Suave: Oh my God! Deer just got clotheslined into next week!

Colleen Crowder: Actually, Johnny, that kind of violent imagery might be triggering for some viewers. Perhaps we could use a less aggressive metaphor?

Suave rolls his eyes.

Johnny Suave: Sure, Colleen. Deer just got gently escorted to the floor via Bates’ arm. Better?

Inside the ring, The Alabama Kid stalks Worth, who’s struggling to his feet in the corner. The trucker’s eyes are glazed, his movements sluggish. But before Worth can steady himself, The Alabama Kid charges, driving his forearm into Worth’s face with a sickening crunch.

Johnny Suave: The Alabama Kid just rearranged Worth’s facial features!

Crowder winces.

Colleen Crowder: That’s a bit graphic, Johnny. Maybe we could say he ‘adjusted’ Worth’s features?

The Alabama Kid doesn’t waste a second.

Johnny Suave: The Alabama Kid grabs Worth by the head, lifts him high, and drives him down with The Crimson Tide.  This is it!

The Alabama Kid goes for the cover.

The referee’s hand slaps the mat. “One!”

“Two!”

The crowd is on its feet, a mix of cheers and boos filling the air.

“Three!”

The bell rings, and Kimber Marshall steps back into the ring.

Kimber Marshall: Here are your winners… The SEC Squad!

Paul Finebaum snatches the microphone, his face twisted in a smug grin.

Paul Finebaum: Ladies and gentlemen, what you’ve just witnessed is the utter destruction of fraud. Main Street USA thought they could compete with the SEC? Ha! This is what happens when you step to the big leagues, folks. The SEC doesn’t just win; we dominate!

Johnny Suave: Well, folks, it looks like the SEC Squad has made their point in emphatic fashion!

Crowder sighs.

Colleen Crowder: While I don’t condone violence as a means of proving superiority, it’s clear the SEC Squad came prepared tonight.

As Finebaum continues his tirade, Worth rolls to his side, spitting blood. His eyes lock with Deer’s across the ring, a silent promise passing between them. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The Alabama Kid, seething with SEC pride, grabs Ken Worth and spikes him with a second Crimson Tide.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The crowd gasps as Worth’s body goes limp.

Johnny Suave: That man has a family!

Outside the ring, Gator Bates stalks John Deer like a predator in the Everglades. With lightning speed, he locks Deer in the Gator Chomp, the farmer’s face contorting in agony.

Brice Brantley, the SEC Enforcer, grabs Average Joe by the throat. With a roar that would make a Georgia Bulldog proud, Brantley chokeslams Joe onto the unforgiving floor.

Johnny Suave: This is a travesty! Where’s the referee? Where’s security?

Colleen Crowder: Ask Elon Musk.  He seems to be the one running things.

The SEC Squad continues their relentless assault, the beatdown in full swing. John Deer, despite his impressive frame, is doubled over in pain. Ken Worth lies motionless in the ring. Average Joe doesn’t stir on the arena floor.

Suddenly, the opening chords of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” blare through the speakers. The crowd erupts as Ray McAvay, William Daniels Bryan, and PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell sprint down the ramp.

Johnny Suave: IT’S THE DEPLORABLES!  The American Heartland Coalition is here to make the save!”

Charlie Blackwell, his face a mask of Texas fury, slides into the ring and immediately clotheslines The Alabama Kid. William Daniels Bryan, righteousness radiating from every pore, tackles Gator Bates off John Deer, and Ray McAvay low blows Brantley and slaps on the Dragon Sleeper.

Johnny Suave: The tide has turned!

The Peru State Field House is electric with the roar of the crowd as the SEC retreats.

Johnny Suave: That usually would do it for this week’s PCW Extreme Political TV.  But… we are going to go back in time to 2019 for a special Christmas attraction match… the Nakatomi Towers Death Match that took place between the Island of Misfit Wrestlers… Rah and Halitosis… versus The Professional Bad Guys… Hans Grueber and Carl Vreski.  Merry Christmas everyone and enjoy.

SPECIAL CHRISTMAS ATTRACTION/NON-TITLE-NAKATOMI TOWERS DEATH MATCH: PCW Tag Team Champions The Island of Misfit Wrestlers: Rah and Halitosis vs. The Professional Bad Guys: Hans Grueber and Carl Vreski

Marshall raises the microphone to her mouth and gets the program underway.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen.  Welcome to our main event.

She pauses as the crowd cheers.

Kimber Marshall: This match will be a one fall…

Crowd: ONE FALL!

Kimber Marshall: …Nakatomi Towers Death Match.

The camera pans over to the two German wrestlers warming up in their corner – sneering at the ring announcer.

Kimber Marshall: Introducing first already in the ring, The Professional Bad Guys – Hans Grueber and Carl Vreski.

Grueber and Vreski huddle and scheme in their corner.  Grueber wears a suit.  Vreski, a black zip up top and pants.

Kimber Marshall: And their opponents…

Slinking out onto the stage in a gold one piece strapless mini-dress, gold high heel shoes, copious makeup on her face, a Santa hat with a piece of mistletoe on the top worn over her teased platinum hair right out of the 1980’s, and bright red lipstick on her lips, Dawn McGill struts her way down the ramp and stops intermittently to pose for the fans.

Kimber Marshall: …led to the ring by PCW Owner Dawn McGill…

Three quarters of the way down, someone in the crowd holds up a bouquet of flowers that catches her attention.  She points to the fan with the sign and walks over to the guardrail.  The fan, who appears to be an older middle aged man, meets her.  Dawn smiles, grabs the side of his face with both hands, and plants a full mouth, no holds barred kiss on the surprised man.

Once the kiss ends, McGill- lipstick slightly smeared on her face, giggles as she backs away from the man- his face also smeared with red lipstick, and continues on towards the ring.

A rumbling bass line plays over the sound system leading into the beginning of The Call’s ‘Let the Day Begin.’

Halitosis saunters out on the ramp dressed in a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and wrestling shoes.

Halitosis

Kimber Marshall: …hailing from the Island of Misfit Wrestlers.  Weighing in tonight at one hundred ninety-five pounds, ladies and gentlemen- ‘The Luchador with Insanely Poor Oral Hygiene’…HALITOSIS!

“Here’s to the teachers in the crowded rooms Here’s to the workers in the fields Here’s to the preachers of the sacred words Here’s to the drivers at the wheel…”

Halitosis pumps his first in the air and then starts down the ramp towards the ring.  He slap people’s hands along the way and then says hello to a young fan in the front row- the fan promptly collapses when he get a whiff of his breath.

“Here’s to you My little loves with blessings from above Now let the day begin…”

Halitosis then moves on to the next one.  He says hello.  The fan gets a blast of his breath and falls to the ground.

He continues on to greet the fans along the way- oblivious to the carnage he leaves behind.

“Here’s to you My little loves with blessings from above Now let the day begin let the day begin let the day…start!”

Halitosis reaches the ring area and continues to greet people around the front row.  Again, they all pass out once they get downwind of his breath and soon, the scene looks like a set of dominos falling over as she goes around the perimeter.  He climbs up on the ring apron and leaps over the top rope into the ring.

Halitosis goes to shake the ring announcer’s hand but finds that she’s bolted to the other side of the ring to keep a safe distance away.  Shrugging his shoulders, Halitosis looks out over the ropes and raises his arms in the air.

Kimber Marshall: And his partner, from-

Marshall is interrupted by a man dressed in an expensive suit and bow-tie who’s just climbed into the ring.  He elbows Kimber out of the way and gestures for her to take a temporary powder because he’s the one who’s been given the honor and privilege of introducing a living deity.

Over the loudspeaker, a buzzing synth sound replaces The Call.

Announcer Guy (in a voice not unlike Michael Buffer): Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you the almost universally-worshipped king of the sun gods of all creation. He commands the chariot that rode across the sky during the day. He is the great, fiery globe in the sky, a welcome, nurturing presence to honor the season. He is the inspiration for those who would throw virgins into the gaping maw of a volcano – perhaps an Icelandic volcano – even though such shenanigans haven’t been acceptable since the 1950s. And just for your reference, he is, for 33 years in a row, proven to be one of UC San Diego‘s most enduring traditions in the Sun God festival- an all-day music festival celebrated by more than 20,000 students, alumni and friends. But that’s not important.

The lights turn off and a small spotlight illuminates the ramp where ten former Arizona State sorority sisters, turned followers of Rah, pose on the ramp and are oblivious to anything else going on around them.  Why?  Because they’re too busy taking selfies of themselves on their cell phones and then texting them onto their twitter accounts.

Two large, hulking men carry out a golden sedan chair holding a six foot eight inch, two hundred and eighty pound man dressed in long flowing robes inside.  Rah is tanned, he’s rested, and as the girls continue to make obnoxious faces, duck face expression, and taking copious amounts of selfies.

Announcer Guy: Either way, you should thank your lucky stars and kiss his royal ass for gracing you with his presence here tonight. I give to you…the reason the Earth doesn‘t float away in the vastness of space…the reason for the invention of sunglasses because your face would melt like in Raiders of the Lost Ark if you gaze upon him…ladies and gentlemen…bow down before the Sunshine God…

McGill breaks character and rolls her eyes at Rah’s overly elaborate entrance.

Announcer Guy:  …RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

The procession stops at the ring steps. Rah climbs out of his golden sedan chair and is immediately barraged with flashing lights.  The former sorority girls keep taking selfie after selfie all around him.

Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, Rah somehow finds his way into the ring.

Kimber rips the microphone back from Rah’s announcer guy.

Johnny Suave: All right.  The Island of Misfit Wrestlers versus The Professional Bad Guys in this Nakatomi Plaza Death Match.  Colleen?  Any comment?

Colleen Crowder: No.

The bell sounds.

Johnny Suave: Here we go.  Halitosis and Vreski circle and tie up. They go around and around.  Vreski pushes Halitosis into a corner.  Halitosis turns it around.  Referee Davey Keels calls for a break.

Vreski lets up – but then fires a right hand.  Halitosis dodges the sucker punch and dropkicks him back into the corner!

Johnny Suave: Vreski tried to get away with one but Halitosis sniffed it out.

Colleen Crowder: Much like whenever Halitosis opens his mouth he’s easy to sniff out.

Johnny Suave: Halitosis drives his shoulder into Vreski’s mid-section and then climbs up to rain down right hands.  Keels starts a count.

Keels counts to four and Halitosis backs away.

Johnny Suave: Halitosis wants the elbow but Vreski pushes him away and kicks low.  Vreski headlocks and rips at the eyes.  Halitosis slips out but Vreski runs him over.

Faster now, Halitosis hurdles Vreski and hits the spinning powerslam! Cover…one…Grueber in with a double ax handle and Vreski gets away.  Doubleteam beatdown by the Grueber and Vreski and fans boo.  Halitosis throws himself to the deck and rolls to the corner to tag in Rah.  Grueber says he’s not afraid of the big man and tags in.

Johnny Suave: Grueber says he’s not he’s not afraid of Rah.  We’ll see about that.

Colleen Crowder: Rah’s breath doesn’t stink to high heaven.  Hans is going to be okay.

Rah ties up with Grueber and powers him to a corner.

Johnny Suave: Grueber runs the ropes but Rah runs him over.  Grueber goes low with an uppercut that slows the Sunshine God down.  Grueber whips – Rah reverses. Grueber dodges but Vreski has a baseball bat and takes a swipe at Rah.

Grueber tags Vreski in.

Johnny Suave: Vreski takes the bat and goes to swin-… NO! Dawn McGill slips out of sports entertainment babe mode and goes into the ring and grabs the bat!

There’s a bit of a tussle – McGill wins and throws the bat out of the ring.  Vreski takes a wild swing at her – McGill ducks and Rah wipes Vreski out with a belly to back suplex.

Johnny Suave: Vreski was too focused on McGill and Rah took him down.

McGill slips back into sports entertainment eye candy mode and blows Vreski a kiss before she exits the ring.

Johnny Suave: Rah tags Halitosis back in.  Halitosis starts with a waistlock and moves to a headlock on Vreski.  Vreski powers out and sends Halitosis into the ropes.  He dodges him on the return and…

*BLAM*

Johnny Suave: Halitosis runs right into a steel chair from Grueber!  Fireman’s carry by Vreski into a Jackhammer slam.  Cover…one…two…Halitosis kicks out.

Halitosis back up.  Vreski with a waistlock – lift- SPINEBUSTER!

Johnny Suave: Cover! One…two…Rah in and makes the save.

*BLAM*

Grueber clobbers Rah with a the chair.  Grueber and Vreski send Rah over the top rope to the floor.  Grueber slides out and pulls something out from underneath the ring.  It’s an eight foot by four foot piece of glass.

Johnny Suave: What the hell is he doing?

Colleen Crowder: What he’s doing is setting up the piece of glass in the corner and motioning Vreski to do something with it.

Vreski doesn’t quite understand what Grueber wants him to do and shrugs.

Grueber again motions to the glass- Vreski still doesn’t know what he’s got in mind.  He shrugs again.

Now agitated, Greuber makes an exaggerated motion pointing at the glass.

Again, Vreski doesn’t quite get it.

Finally…

Hans Grueber: SHOOT…THE GLASS!

Grueber positions Halitosis in front of the glass.  Vreski finally gets it.

Carl Vreski: Ohhhhhhhh!

Vreski rushes forward and spears Halitosis right through it, sending glass flying all over the place.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Crowd: HOLY *BLEEP*…HOLY *BLEEP*

Johnny Suave: Hey, that’s Laura Bergman looking on.  She’s Halitosis’s wife.

Joe is bleeding.  So is Vreski.  He exits the ring to check under the ring apron and pull out a chain.

Johnny Suave: Now Vreski has a chain.

Vreski returns to the ring and blasts Halitosis with it.  Halitosis collapses to the mat.

Johnny Suave: Vreski wraps the chain around his neck and goes to choke him out.

Vreski then rolls over Halitosis for the pinfall.  But there’s no count.  Why?

Johnny Suave: Dawn McGill is making out with referee Davey Keels in the corner.  That’s some powerful mistletoe he must be using.

The camera zooms in on the Santa hat Keels is wearing- complete with mistletoe.

Johnny Suave: Can I get some of that?

Rah yanks Vreski off Halitosis.

*WHACK*

Johnny Suave: Dawn McGill slipped into the ring and filets Vreski with a Singapore cane.

Vreski spins around and…

*WHACK*

…gets nailed a second time.  He’s now bleeding from the forehead from the caneshots.  Halitosis rolls out of the ring.

Johnny Suave: Rah spins Vreski around – grabs him by the throat – lifts- and slams him to the mat with the Solstice slam.   Cover… one… two… NO! Vreski kicks out.

Vreski kicks Rah in the groin and snapmares the Sunshine God to the mat.

Johnny Suave: He goes for a dragon sleeper… NO! Rah blocks and gets back to his feet.  Rah hits a bulldog and drops ax handles on the back of Vreski.

Then Rah takes Vreski’s chain and wraps it around his neck.  Vreski frantically tries to get away.  He tries to throw himself out of the ring but the chain catches and hangs him up.

Johnny Suave: Rah drags Vreski back to the ring and signals it time to sacrifice him to the Temple of the Sunshine God!

Rah looks over at his faithful worshipers-

…and they’re not paying attention to what he’s doing.

Rolling his eyes, Rah looks over at McGill- she’s looking at her compact and redoing her lipstick that got mussed up when she Singapore caned Vreski.

Sighing, Rah then turns to the fans at ringside and finally receives the adulation he’s looking for.  He places Vreski’s head between his legs and looks towards the heavens with arms stretched out soaking in the praise and worship of the fans. After receiving the necessary strength, Rah picks Vreski up and drives him down onto the canvas with a jackknife powerbomb.

Johnny Suave: EYE OF RAHHHHHHHH!

Rah walks with a deliberate gait over to Vreski.  He should pin him right then and there but something catches the eyes of the Sunshine God.  In the stands, he sees Hans Grueber with a firm grip on the hand of one Laura Bergman.

Johnny Suave: Oh no!  Hans Grueber is dragging Halitosis’s wife Laura Bergman up the steps towards the top with him.

A few feet below, Halitosis, bloodied and just a mess, climbs up the steps a few feet behind them.  Rah watches as Grueber reaches the top and sees Joe coming for him.

Johnny Suave: Hans Grueber is threatening to throw Laura off the back of the stands if he takes another step forward.

Laura stomps on Grueber’s foot.  Halitosis lurches forward and unleashes his lethal breath of death on Grueber.

Johnny Suave: BREATH OF DEATH!  Grueber clutches his throat at the stench and he’s about to go over the edge!

Laura shoves Grueber over the edge but the German grabs on to Laura’s wrist as he topples over and begins to pull her down with him – Joe grabs Laura and holds on for dear life.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Grueber has a hold of her watch.  He tries to reach up with his free hand as Laura feverishly loosens the watchband.  It slips off her wrist and…

Grueber falls several feet down and crashes through the two tables that’s been conveniently set up below him.

Johnny Suave: I wonder who put those tables up?

Quick cut to Dawn McGill, filing her nails behind the stands and nodding at her handiwork as Grueber lays in the wreckage of the tables.

Back in the ring…

Johnny Suave: Rah sees that Laura’s safe and goes back over to Vreski.  He hooks the leg and makes the cover.  One…two…THREE.

Keels calls for the bell and that’s all.  Kimber Marshall comes out to the ring.

Kimber Marshall: Your winner at thirteen minutes and twenty-three seconds… Rah! And Halitosis… the Island of Misfit Wrestlers!

Quick cut to Halitosis and Laura Bergman hugging in the stands.

Johnny Suave: Thanks everyone for watching tonight and everyone have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

[pcwpolwrestling]

12/14-PCW Extreme Political TV

Last Week on PCW Extreme Political TV: -The View’s Sunny Hostin has to read another legal note on the air -MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow explains why she took a 5 million dollar pay cut to stay and is attacked by Keith Olbermann. -MATCH #1: Keith Olbermann vs. Rachel Maddow go to a no-contest with Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski run down as well as Chris Hayes and everyone brawls into the crowd. -CBS TV Comedy Preview including: Ghosts, Georgie and Mandy’s First Marriage, and The CBS Evening News with Norah O’Donnell -MATCH #2-‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels w/the Skanky Rich Bimbos (Paris and Nicole) defeated Magnum P.O’d w/Robyn Masters -Daniels cuts a scathing promo on the people after the match. -Sunny Hostin reads yet another legal note on the air. -Woodward Bernstein is in Africa with Supreme Dark Overlord of PCW Joe Biden and things happen. -MAIN EVENT: Neal Conn-making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order (Conservative Inc.) defeated Ken Worth-American Trucker (Main Street USA) -Conn then also cuts a scathing promo on the people after the matching- setting the main event next week for the PCW title: Conn, Kevin Daniels, and PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell in a three-way dance.

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Surf Ballroom Clear Lake, Iowa. Saturday December 14th, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Neal Conn (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: The Deplorables: Ray McAvay/’Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan (American Heartland Coalition) The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

Opening: The fluorescent lights flicker to life, casting a harsh glow over the squared circle. Johnny Suave adjusts his silk tie, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. He scans the packed arena, drinking in the electric atmosphere. The roar of the crowd washes over him, igniting that familiar spark in his veins.

Johnny Suave: Hello Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV!”

The crowd erupts, and Suave feels a surge of adrenaline.

Johnny Suave: I’m the ‘Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave.  She’s the ‘Low-Level New York Times reporter trying to make a name for herself’… Colleen Crowder.

Colleen’s sharp tone cuts through his reverie.

Colleen Crowder: Let’s hope tonight’s show is more substantial than your hairspray, Johnny.

Suave chuckles. He faces Colleen, plastering on his trademark grin.

Johnny Suave: Oh, Colleen, always with the quips. But tell me, did you leave your sense of excitement back at the New York Times office?

Colleen Crowder: No.  But I did bring the narrative because the mainstream media decides what’s important, what people should care about.

Johnny Suave: Well, tonight… what people should care about is the PCW Title match.  PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell of the American Heartland Coalition defends the title against the Progressive Alliance’s ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels and Neal Conn- making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order. 

Suave pauses an turns to Colleen.

Johnny Suave: I’m contractually obligated to say that.

Colleen rolls her eyes.

Colleen Crowder: We know.

Johnny Suave: Hold that thought.  There’s something going on backstage.

Cut to…

Backstage The hallway echoes with the collision of two political titans, their ideologies clashing like thunderbolts in a storm. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (Progressive Alliance) stands her ground, her dark eyes flashing with determination as she faces off against Marjorie Taylor-Greene (American Patriots).

The air crackles with tension, thick enough to choke on.

Marjorie Taylor-Greene: Well, if it isn’t the socialist squad’s poster child.

AOC’s fists clench at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: Marjorie, still peddling conspiracy theories, I see. What’s next, lizard people in Congress?

Greene’s nostrils flare as she steps closer, invading AOC’s personal space. The scent of cheap hairspray and entitlement assaults AOC’s senses.

MTG: At least I’m not trying to destroy America with your Green New Deal nonsense!

AOC feels her patience wearing thin, like the ozone layer Greene refuses to acknowledge.

AOC: Nonsense? Climate change is real, unlike your space lasers!

The tension crackles between them, each word a match threatening to ignite an inferno. AOC’s heart races, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Greene’s face contorts with fury as she jabs a finger at AOC’s chest.

MTG: You listen here, you commie-

But before she can finish, AOC’s patience snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. With lightning speed honed from years of bartending and political maneuvering, she grabs Greene’s outstretched arm. Using the momentum, AOC spins Greene into the wall with a satisfying thud.

AOC: Enough! You want to settle this? Let’s settle it in the ring!

Greene pushes back, her eyes wild with challenge, like a cornered animal.

MTG: Bring it on, princess.  I’ll show you what real American toughness looks like!

AOC’s mind races. This is insane, but maybe it’s the only language Greene understands.

The two women grapple, their political rivalry exploding into a physical brawl. AOC feels Greene’s nails dig into her arm as they stumble towards the curtain. With a final shove, they burst through the fabric barrier, tumbling onto the entrance ramp of the PCW arena.

The crowd erupts in a cacophony of gasps and cheers.

Johnny Suave: HERE WE GO!  IT’S AN IMPROMPTU MATCH!

Colleen Crowder: Why?

AOC barely registers the noise as she rolls across the cold metal, trading blows with Greene. This is it, she thinks, democracy in action… or maybe just madness.

Suddenly, AOC finds herself free of Greene’s grip. She springs to her feet, chest heaving, and scans the area. Her gaze locks onto a “Green New Deal” sign in the front row. Perfect.

AOC: Hey, Marjorie!

AOC snatches the sign and brandishes it like a weapon.

AOC: Let’s see if you can deny climate change after I leave you in a world of hurt!

Greene, not to be outdone, grabs a red MAGA hat from a nearby fan.

MTG: You want to play dirty, socialist Barbie? I’ll show you dirty!

She whips the hat at AOC’s face with surprising accuracy.

AOC: Is that all you’ve got?

AOC twirls the “Green New Deal” sign like a baton, her eyes never leaving Greene’s face.

Greene’s face contorts with fury. She charges forward like a bull, her blonde hair streaming behind her.

AOC braces for impact, but Greene’s momentum is too much. They crash into the steel barricade with a sickening thud.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, it’s clear that Marjorie Taylor-Green instigated and provoked this… this…

The air rushes from AOC’s lungs as they tumble over, sending chairs and equipment flying in the timekeeper’s area.

Johnny Suave: Impromptu match between two women TAKING IT TO THE EXTREME?

AOC barely registers the words as she struggles to break Greene’s grip, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her back.

Colleen Crowder: Really, Johnny? Can we focus on the fact that two sitting congresswomen are brawling like street fighters?

Johnny Suave: WATCH OUT!

Greene seizes the momentary distraction and grabs AOC by the back of the head.

*BLAM*

Johnny Suave: OH!  MTG just slammed AOC’s head into the announce table.

Colleen Crowder: COME ON AOC!

Stars explode behind AOC’s eyes as she struggles to regain her bearings.

AOC’s vision clears, adrenaline surging through her veins. She spots a steel folding chair just within reach and lunges for it, her fingers closing around the cool metal.

Johnny Suave: AOC has a chair!

With a burst of strength, she swings it wildly.

AOC: FOR THE PEOPLE!

The chair connects with Greene’s midsection with a satisfying thud.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Greene stumbles back, gasping for air, her face contorted in pain and rage.

*WHAP*

Johnny Suave: STEEL CHAIRSHOT TO THE BACK BY AOC!

Greene staggers back to the barricade.

Johnny Suave: AOC moves in for the kill shot but… WAIT!

The crowd buzzes as someone races out from the back and sprints down the ramp.

Johnny Suave: THAT’S LAUREN BOEBERT!

The feisty, gun-toting American Patriot congresswoman from Colorado grabs the chair before AOC can slam it into MTG a second time.

Johnny Suave: Boebert and AOC are fighting over the chair

Colleen jumps out of her seat.

Colleen Crowder: YES!

Johnny Suave: HUH?

Jasmine Crockett sprints down and she tackles Boebert.

Colleen Crockett: GO JASMINE!

Johnny Suave: NOW JASMINE CROCKETT HAS RUN DOWN AND IT’S CHAOS AT RINGSIDE.

MTG has recovered enough to spear AOC to the floor.  Crockett and Boebert roll on the floor trying to get the upper hand.

Johnny Suave: And here comes PCW’s security team.

Colleen Crowder: Oh sure.  Just as the Progressive Alliance gets the upper hand, the security force shows up.

Johnny Suave: What a start to tonight’s edition of PCW Extreme Political TV!  We’ll be back after these messages.

***

Commercial Announcer Guy: Ladies and gentlemen, are you tired of being limited by traditional sources of energy? Do you constantly find yourself wishing you had nuclear power at your fingertips? Well, say goodbye to those pesky government regulations and hello to the Atom Splitter 3000! Brought to you by a college genius behind the infamous “Exploding Microwave” invention!

As we pan across a chaotic kitchen with radioactive waste strewn about, a frazzled housewife nervously shows off her purchase.

Frazzled Housewife: With just a push of this button, I can split atoms and create enough energy to run my entire home for a year! No more worrying about utility bills or wasting precious resources on primitive electricity – just pure atomic power!

Cut to a series of shots where people use the device for bizarre tasks like powering a Ferris wheel and cooking a Thanksgiving feast in seconds.

Announcer Guy: But wait, there’s more! Order now and we’ll throw in our exclusive “Uranium Pie Maker” attachment for free! You’ll never have to wait for your pie to bake again – just split some uranium and voila!

Suddenly, the door flies open and men in hazmat suits swarm in, shutting down the demonstration.

FBI Guy: This is the FBI! You’re under arrest for illegal possession and use of nuclear materials!

But before they can take anyone away, the college genius himself bursts onto the scene.

College Genius: Hold it right there, government goons! This is all just a misunderstanding. The Atom Splitter 3000 is perfectly safe when used correctly.

As he frantically tries to explain himself, another explosion rocks the room.

College Genius: Oops… sorry folks, looks like we may have miscalculated the power output on that one.’

The screen cuts to black and we hear sirens wailing in the background as a disclaimer reminds viewers to always use caution when dealing with nuclear technology.

***

A DOGE Commercial The screen fades to black, then a rugged American landscape appears.

Booming Announcer Guy: In a world of bloated bureaucracy…

Elon Musk’s face fills the frame, wind tousling his hair as he stands atop a rocky outcrop.

Elon Musk: America needs a leaner, meaner government machine.

Cut to Vivek Ramaswamy, striding purposefully across the Washington Mall.

Vivek Ramaswamy: That’s why we’ve created DOGE – the Department of Government Efficiency.

A montage flashes by: stacks of papers being shredded, computers shutting down, “CLOSED” signs appearing on agency doors.

Musk, now behind the wheel of a cybertruck, grins.

Elon Musk: We’re trimming the fat and cutting the red tape.

Ramaswamy, seated beside him, adds…

Vivek Ramaswamy: And we’re doing it faster than you can say ‘balanced budget.’

The truck careens through D.C., leaving bewildered bureaucrats in its wake. Musk thinks, This is even more fun than Twitter.

Vivek Ramaswamy: With DOGE, we’re not just making government smaller. We’re making it work for you.

The cybertruck screeches to a halt before the Capitol. Both men leap out, striding towards the building with purpose.

Musk turns to the camera.

Elon Musk: Because in Trump’s America, efficiency isn’t just a buzzword.

Vivek Ramaswamy: It’s a way of life.

As they reach the steps, Musk can’t help but smirk. Who knew government work could be this entertaining?

The screen fades to black, revealing the DOGE logo – a Shiba Inu wearing a red “Make America Great Again” hat.

***

Back from commercial break…

Charlie Blackwell Promo The spotlight pierces the darkness, illuminating Charlie Blackwell’s (American Patriots) weathered face as he emerges from the shadows. Sweat glistens on his broad shoulders, the PCW Championship belt a heavy reminder of the responsibility he carries.

Charlie Blackwell: City slickers and political hacks.

Blackwell’s, his voice cutting through the hushed arena. His eyes scan the crowd, making for a connection with the everyday Americans he represents.

He paces the ring, each boot fall echoing like a heartbeat.

Charlie Blackwell: This here belt ain’t just some fancy accessory. It’s the heartbeat of the American dream.

Blackwell’s calloused hand grips the microphone tighter, his knuckles whitening. The faces in the crowd blur together, but he sees in them the struggles of every hardworking citizen he’s sworn to champion.

Charlie Blackwell: While you suits in Washington play your games, I’m out here representin’ the folks who break their backs every day to keep this country runnin’.

His finger jabs the air, pointing accusingly at an invisible enemy.

Charlie Blackwell: Neal Conn thinks he can waltz in here with his fancy words and backroom deals. Well, I got news for you, partner. In this ring, actions speak louder than empty promises.

Blackwell pauses, letting the words hang in the air. The weight of the championship feels heavier than ever on his shoulders.

Charlie Blackwell: These people are counting on me and I can’t let them down. Tonight, I’m gonna show y’all what real American grit looks like. And when the dust settles, this belt’s stayin’ right where it belongs – with the workin’ man.

The crowd erupts, their cheers washing over Blackwell like a wave. He stands tall, a beacon of rugged defiance against the political machinations threatening to engulf the sport he loves.

The roar of the crowd fades as Blackwell’s music cuts abruptly.

Why?

***

The SEC Segment Suddenly, a commotion near the entrance ramp catches Suave’s attention. His eyes widen as he spots Paul Finebaum, the SEC’s biggest cheerleader, storming down the aisle. Finebaum’s face is a mask of unbridled fury, his usually composed demeanor shattered.

Johnny Suave: Wait a second. Looks like we have an unexpected guest.  What could have riled up ol’ Paul this time?

Finebaum snatches a microphone from a startled stagehand and grips the mic, his body trembling with rage.

Paul Finebaum: This is an outrage!

Johnny Suave: What’s an outrage?

The crowd falls silent, hanging on his every word.

Paul Finebaum: SMU in the playoffs? Over Alabama? Have we lost our minds?

The arena erupts in a cacophony of boos and cheers, the audience split down the middle.

Finebaum waves off the crowd’s reaction, his eyes wild with indignation.

Paul Finebaum: The committee has made a mockery of college football.  Alabama’s tradition, their dominance, their… their… SEC-ness! It’s being ignored!  The SEC is being disrespected here!

Johnny Suave: Here we go again with the SEC bias.

Suave rolls his eyes, barely suppressing a groan.

The arena erupts as “International Harvester” by Craig Morgan blares through the speakers.

Johnny Suave: WAIT!  IT’S MAIN STREET USA!

Finebaum’s surprised to see Farmer John Deer and Ken Worth-American Trucker stride down the ramp, their imposing figures casting long shadows across the ring.

John adjusts his denim overalls, his calloused hands gripping the microphone.

Farmer John: Hold on there, Finebaum. I’m a big fan of the big state schools but you cryin’ about Alabama like a calf separated from its mama tells me you’re missin’ the bigger picture. The team that lost twice to teams that lost six times on the season and at Tennessee deserved to get into the playoffs over SMU who made it to their conference championship?

Ken Worth: Here’s a news flash, Paul… Tennessee didn’t deserve to get in over Miami either.

Finebaum’s face turns bright red.

Paul Finebaum: WHAT?

Finebaum points his finger at Worth.

Paul Finebaum: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Paul Finebaum: In the SEC, it just means more! Alabama is a brand name. SMU isn’t. Alabama is in the SEC… SMU isn’t. The SEC is better than every college football conference in America and it’s about time they were given the respect they deserve!

Johnny Suave: Tell you what… when SEC teams don’t play eight home games when most non-power conference teams play a split schedule of six home, six away… because having more home games isn’t an advantage… oh right… Alabama lost three away games this season… Tennessee lost away games at six-loss Arkansas and at Georgia… you come talk to me.

Finebaum turns to Suave and glares at him.

Ken nods, his steel-blue eyes narrowing.

Ken Worth: That’s right, Paul. This ain’t just about football. It’s about the little guy gettin’ steamrolled by the big boys.”

Finebaum’s face reddens.

Paul Finebaum: Now wait just a minute-

Farmer John: No, you wait.  While you’re fussin’ over the SEC, folks in the heartland are struggling to make ends meet. We’re the Mid-American Conference of life, Paul. The underdogs.

Ken steps forward, his worn boots creaking.

Ken Worth: The elites don’t give a damn about us as long as their pockets are lined. Sound familiar, Finebaum? Just like your precious SEC.

Farmer John: This is our chance to make a stand for the folks back home. For every hardworking American who feels left behind.

Finebaum sputters.

Paul Finebaum: You can’t possibly compare-

Ken Worth: Oh, but we can. And we will. How about you put your money where your mouth is, Paul? Next week, you and your SEC cronies against Main Street USA.

The crowd roars its approval as John and Ken stand tall, ready to fight for the everyman.

Finebaum, visibly shaken, tries to regain composure.

Paul Finebaum: You’re out of your league, gentlemen. In the SEC, it just means-

Farmer John: Save it.  Next week, we’ll show you what really means more.

Cut back to Suave and Colleen…

Johnny Suave: There you have it!  Main Street USA will take on The SEC next time on PCW Extreme Political TV.

***

Neal Conn Promo A chill sweeps through the arena as the American Patriots’s Neal Conn… making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order… emerges, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the gritty authenticity of the wrestling ring. His perfectly coiffed hair gleams under the spotlight, not a strand out of place.

Joining him, Hallie Burton… protector of the military-industrial complex… who slinks next to Conn as his lips form a smirk as he raises the microphone.

Neal Conn: Mr. Blackwell seems to think this championship is about pandering to the masses. How… quaint.

His voice drips with condescension, each word precisely chosen for maximum impact.

Neal Conn: Blackwell’s strength is formidable, but every man has a weakness. Find it, exploit it, and victory is assured.

He adjusts his tie, a gesture of calculated nonchalance.

Neal Conn: This title, represents power on a global scale. And in the hands of the American Patriots, it will cement our nation’s dominance on the world stage.

The crowd’s boos wash over him, but Conn remains unfazed. Let them jeer, he thinks. They’re too short-sighted to see the bigger picture.

His voice grows colder, more threatening.

Neal Conn: I will do whatever it takes to secure that power. The ends justify the means, after all. Tonight, I’ll prove that true leadership requires more than empty populist rhetoric. It demands vision, strategy, and the willingness to do what others won’t.

He takes a step forward, his presence filling the ring.

Neal Conn: Prepare yourself, cowboy. Your rodeo is about to end.

***

Commercial Break A fast-paced commercial jingle plays…

Announcer Guy: “Are you tired of being broke? Sick of the government printing money while you struggle? Well, say hello to the revolutionary MoneyMaker 3000!”

Camera pans across a dorm room where a scrawny college student with wild hair and thick glasses stands proudly next to a bizarre contraption

Genius College Student: Hi, I’m Devin, and I’ve solved the financial crisis with science!

Announcer Guy: That’s right, folks! This genius has created a do-it-yourself money printer that’ll make you richer than your wildest dreams!

Montage of people using the MoneyMaker 3000.

Announcer Guy: Watch as Susan pays off her student loans with freshly printed cash! See Tom buy a yacht with crisp bills straight from the machine! Marvel at little Timmy becoming the richest kid on the playground!

Genius College Student: If the Fed can do it, why can’t we?

Announcer Guy: But wait, there’s more! Order now and we’ll throw in our patented ‘Audit Avoider’ software! Keep those pesky IRS agents off your back!”

Scene of a man swimming in a pool filled with money.

Announce Guy: Imagine never worrying about bills again! Buy anything you want! Heck, buy the whole store!

Suddenly, loud banging is heard.

FBI Agent: FBI! Open up!

Genius College Student [panicking]: Oh no, they’ve found me!

Doors burst open, agents rush in.

Announcer Guy [speaking rapidly]: The MoneyMaker 3000 is not approved by any government agency. Use at your own risk. Side effects may include hyperinflation, economic collapse, and federal prison time. Batteries not included.

Agents handcuff the student.

Genius College Student [being dragged away]: You can’t stop the financial revolution!

Announcer Guy: MoneyMaker 3000 – because why should the government have all the fun?

Commercial abruptly ends with static…

***

Commercial The screen flickers to life with a somber image of a funeral home exterior, but suddenly, upbeat party music blasts through the speakers.

Announcer Guy: Are you tired of boring, depressing funerals? Well, say goodbye to those dreary affairs and hello to ‘Last Call Funeral Parlor’!

The camera pans to reveal a lively scene inside the funeral home. People are laughing, drinking, and dancing around an open casket.

Spokesperson (a cheerful woman in a sparkly black dress): Hi, I’m Morticia, and my role here is to be a party planner for the dead. We’re changing how people view celebrations of life!

She gestures to a fully stocked bar next to a flower-covered coffin.

Morticia: At Last Call, we believe in putting the ‘fun’ back in funeral. Why mourn when you can party?

A montage plays of various funeral scenarios: a conga line weaving around tombstones, a limbo contest using the casket as the bar, and a drinking game called “I Never” with the deceased as an honorary participant.

Morticia (whispering to the camera): Don’t worry, we’re totally respectful. We only serve alcohol on the premises, and everyone stays until the services are over. It’s like a lock-in, but with more embalming fluid!

The scene cuts to a group of people raising their glasses in a toast to a portrait of the deceased.

Announcer Guy: Last Call Funeral Parlor – because your loved ones wouldn’t want you to cry in your beer, they’d want you to spill it dancing on their grave!

The commercial ends with Morticia winking at the camera and saying,

Morticia: Remember folks, at Last Call, we’re always dying to party with you!

Announcer Guy (voice fading): Last Call Funeral Parlor – putting the FUN back in funeral!

***

Back from commercial…

Kevin Daniels Promo The arena plunges into darkness, only to explode in a cacophony of flashing lights and pulsing neon. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels of the Progressive Alliance emerges from a cloud of glitter, his sequined jacket catching every beam of light. He struts down the ramp, a smirk plastered across his chiseled face.

Kevin Daniels: Well, well, well…

Daniels drawls into the microphone, his voice dripping with condescension.

Kevin Daniels: Looks like we’ve got ourselves a hoedown and a board meeting. How… quaint.

He runs a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, savoring the mix of cheers and boos from the crowd.

Paris and Nicole, the Skanky Rich Bimbos, flank him, their vapid giggles echoing through the arena. Taylor Switt trails behind, strumming an aimless chord on her guitar.

Daniels’ eyes narrow.

Kevin Daniels: These two think they’ve got it all figured out.  But they don’t know what real star power looks like. Allow me to class up this little soirée.

Daniels gestures grandly to his entourage.

Kevin Daniels: You see, while you two are busy pandering to farmers and flag-wavers, I’m living the American dream. Hollywood, baby!

He pauses, drinking in the reaction. The crowd’s negative energy fuels him, their attention addictive. This is what it means to be a true star.

Kevin Daniels: Where I come from, the streets are paved with gold. And the people? Well, they’re paved with silicone.” Paris and Nicole titter on cue, while Taylor strums another chord.

Daniels locks eyes with Blackwell, then Conn, his gaze a clear challenge.

Kevin Daniels: This title belongs on the waist of someone who truly represents America’s elite. Someone with style, charisma, and a net worth that would make your heads spin.

He makes a championship belt gesture around his waist.

Kevin Daniels: Tonight, I’m not just winning a championship. I’m elevating it.

A predatory grin spreads across his face.

Kevin Daniels: So sit back, relax, and watch a real star shine.

MAIN EVENT-PCW TITLE: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) © vs. Neal Conn (American Patriots) vs. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance)

The bell rings, and chaos erupts. Conn and Daniels lock eyes, a silent agreement forming in an instant. They converge on Blackwell like sharks scenting blood in the water.

Johnny Suave’s voice cuts through the mayhem.

Johnny Suave: And we’re off! Conn and Daniels double-teaming the champ right out of the gate!

Blackwell’s mind races as he fends off the assault. These city slickers might have fancy moves, but they ain’t never wrestled a steer. He ducks a wild swing from Daniels, only to catch a knee from Conn.

Colleen Crowder’s sharp tone slices through the commentary.

Colleen Crowder: Typical conservative strategy, Johnny. Gang up on the working man.

Johnny Suave: Oh, come on, Colleen!  It’s the establishment of both sides ganging up on Blackwell.

Blackwell finds himself cornered, his back against the turnbuckle. Conn’s methodical strikes contrast sharply with Daniels’ flashy maneuvers. It’s like being caught between a sledgehammer and a disco ball, he thinks grimly.

Johnny Suave: Look at that teamwork.  Conn with a textbook suplex, followed by Daniels’ patented ‘Hollywood Star Press’!

The impact knocks the wind from Blackwell’s lungs.

Colleen Crowder: Teamwork? More like a temporary cease-fire between the coastal elite and the war hawks. Mark my words, this alliance won’t last.

Blackwell’s jaw sets in determination. These boys might have the numbers, but they don’t have the grit. He’s weathered worse storms back on the ranch. Time to show ’em what Texas tough really means. The ring shudders as Blackwell launches into action. Daniels, caught up in his own ego, attempts a showy “Red Carpet Roll-Up” on the champion. His sequined jacket glitters under the arena lights as he flips and twists.

Johnny Suave: Look at that Hollywood razzle-dazzle!

But Daniels’ showboating proves costly. Conn, seeing an opportunity, blindsides his temporary ally with a vicious clothesline. The impact echoes through the arena.

Johnny Suave: And Conn just turned on Daniels! The alliance is shattered!

Crowder’s smug tone cuts through the chaos.

Colleen Crowder: I told you, Johnny. Honor among thieves is as rare as bipartisanship in Washington.

Blackwell, his instincts honed by years of wrangling ornery cattle, seizes the moment. He grabs Conn, muscles rippling under his sweat-soaked singlet, and Irish whips him into the turnbuckle. The impact stuns Conn, leaving him vulnerable.

Johnny Suave: Blackwell’s mounting a comeback!

As Conn slumps in the corner, Blackwell’s mind races. These city slickers thought they had me, he thinks. But they forgot one thing – you can’t keep a good Texan down.

Suddenly, Daniels recovers, his face contorted with rage.

Kevin Daniels: This is my spotlight!”

Daniels charges at Conn with theatrical fury.

Blackwell watches, bemused, as Daniels executes his “Paparazzi Powerbomb” on Conn, sending him flying over the top rope and crashing to the floor.

Ring announcer Kimber Marshall’s voice booms through the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Neal Conn has been eliminated!

The crowd erupts as Blackwell and Daniels lock eyes. It’s down to the two of them now. The PCW Championship hangs in the balance.

Colleen Crowder: Well, well, looks like it’s Texas grit versus Hollywood glitz. Care to place a bet, Johnny?

Suave chuckles.

Johnny Suave: I wouldn’t dare, Colleen. But I can tell you one thing – this is about to get real interesting!

As Daniels struts around the ring, blowing kisses to his entourage, Blackwell sets his jaw.

Johnny Suave: Let’s see if Charlie Blackwell can show this Hollywood pretty boy what real wrestling’s all about, he thinks. This ain’t no movie set, son. This is where the rubber meets the road.

Colleen Crowder: Kevin Daniels is a star and people want to elevate their stars.

The air crackles with tension as Blackwell and Daniels circle each other, the PCW Championship belt gleaming like a beacon of glory. Blackwell’s steely gaze locks onto Daniels, his mind racing.

Johnny Suave: This ain’t no red carpet, pretty boy. It’s a Texas showdown. Look at that focus. Blackwell’s locked in like a bull eyeing a red cape!

Crowder’s retort drips with sarcasm.

Colleen Crowder: More like a stubborn mule refusing to budge. Daniels has the agility and star power to run circles around him.

Blackwell grits his teeth. Mule, huh? I’ll show you stubborn, darlin’.

Suddenly, Daniels lunges forward, his sequined jacket catching the light as he attempts a flashy hurricanrana. Time slows for Blackwell as he sees the move coming. Not today, Hollywood.

With a surge of raw power, Blackwell catches Daniels mid-air, the crowd gasping in collective shock.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! Blackwell’s got him!

Daniels’ eyes widen in panic as Blackwell smoothly transitions, his muscles straining. This is for Texas, for the workin’ man, for everyone these coastal elites look down on.

Johnny Suave: KATAHAJIME!

Colleen Crowder: Balls!

Suave practically leaps out of his seat.

Johnny Suave: Blackwell’s got Daniels in the Katahajime!

Colleen Crowder: Come on Kevin!  Get out of there.

The arena erupts as Daniels writhes in the hold, his perfectly coiffed hair coming undone. Paris and Nicole’s shrieks pierce the air, their manicured nails clawing uselessly.

Colleen Crowder: C’mon, Daniels.

Crowder has a note of desperation in her voice.

Colleen Crowder: Use that Hollywood magic to escape!

Hollywood star’s perfectly manicured hand flails wildly, desperately searching for the ropes just out of reach.

Johnny Suave: He’s fading fast! Will Daniels tap out?

Sweat drips down Blackwell’s face as he maintains the hold. Come on, pretty boy. Time to face reality.

The tension in the arena increases as the crowd holding its collective breath. Suddenly, Daniels’ hand slaps the mat.

Johnny Suave: He tapped! Daniels tapped out! Blackwell retains!

Colleen Crowder: Well… that wasn’t in our narrative.

The bell rings, its sound nearly drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. Blackwell releases the hold, chest heaving as he rises to his feet.

Kimber Marshall’s voice booms through the arena.

Kimber Marshall: Here is your winner, and still PCW Champion, Charlie ‘Wrestling’ Blackwell!

As the referee raises his arm in victory, Blackwell catches Crowder’s deflated mutter over the arena speakers.

Colleen Crowder: Well, I suppose even Hollywood endings can’t always be scripted.

The championship belt gleams under the arena lights as Blackwell hoists it high above his head. The roar of the crowd washes over him, a tidal wave of adulation that sends a chill down his spine. This is what it’s all about, he thinks. Not the glitz, not the glamour, but the raw connection between a champion and his people.

Johnny Suave: What a match! What a night! Blackwell proves once again why he’s the heart and soul of PCW!

Blackwell allows himself a small smile. Heart and soul? Maybe. But more importantly, I’m the backbone of this joint.

Crowder’s sharp retort follows quickly.

Colleen Crowder: Heart and soul? More like the stubborn appendix. But I’ll give credit where it’s due – Blackwell showed some impressive resilience tonight.

Johnny Suave: Typical coastal elites underestimating the working folks.

As Suave and Crowder continue their verbal sparring, Blackwell makes his way around the ring, slapping hands with fans and basking in their cheers. The camera pans across the arena, capturing the electric atmosphere. Signs wave, fans cheer, and in the center of it all stands Charlie Blackwell, PCW Champion, a testament to the enduring power of the American spirit – for better or worse.

[pcwpolwrestling]

12/7-Extreme Political TV

Last Week on PCW Extreme Political TV: -Johnny Suave announces that this week on Extreme Political TV, PCW presents all three Extreme Election Night matches Donald Trump has been involved in: 2016, 2020, and 2024. -MATCH #1: The 2016 Battle for PCW CEO-Donald Trump (American Patriots) defeated Hillary Clinton (Progressive Alliance) -“How Dare You!” with 9-year-old Eva McAvay (PCW Owner Dawn McGill’s daughter).  This segment Eva discusses people tearing their families apart over politics. -MATCH #2: The 2020 Battle for PCW CEO-: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels w/PCW CEO candidate Joe Biden, Aide de Camp candidate Kamala Harris (Progressive Alliance) defeated ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott w/PCW CEO Donald Trump, Aide de Camp Mike Pence (American Patriots) -Update on the California Vote Counting -Jim Vanderhei of Axios and the legacy media strike back. -“How Dare You!” with Eva McAvay.  This segment touched on the billion dollars plus spent on the Kamala Harris campaign. -MAIN EVENT-2024 PCW CEO MATCH: Donald Trump w/J.D. Vance (American Patriots) defeated Kamala Harris w/Tim Walz (Progressive Alliance)

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Expo Square Pavilion Tulsa, Oklahoma Saturday December 7th, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Kirk Walstreit (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: The Deplorables: Ray McAvay/’Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan (American Heartland Coalition) The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

Opening: The crowd’s chant reverberates through the arena, a thunderous echo of “PCW! PCW! PCW!” Johnny Suave stands at the center of the ring, his slicked-back hair gleaming under the harsh lights. He adjusts his tie, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he locks eyes with Colleen Crowder.

Johnny Suave: Hello ladies and gentlemen and welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV!

PCW!… PCW!… PCW!…

Johnny Suave: I am the ‘Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave. With me in the ring tonight is ‘Low Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’…

Colleen Crowder: I wish you wouldn’t put it like that.

Johnny Suave: …Colleen Crowder!

Suave’s voice booms through the microphone.

Johnny Suave: Tonight we’ve got…

Suave stops as he hears something in his earphone.

Johnny Suave: We’ve got breaking news, folks. Let’s cut to The View.

The jumbotron flickers to life, revealing Sunny Hostin’s strained face. Her eyes dart nervously as she reads from a prompter, her voice robotic and devoid of emotion.

Sunny Hostin: I, Sunny Hostin, sincerely apologize for my comments regarding…

She trails off, her words barely audible as the crowd jeers.

Johnny Suave: Fill in the blank.

Suave chuckles, turning to Colleen.

Johnny Suave: Well, well, another day, another apology from The View What do you make of this, Colleen?

Colleen’s green eyes flash with indignation.

Colleen Crowder: The legacy media sets the narrative, Johnny. We determine what’s important, what the people need to know.

Suave’s eyebrow arches.

Johnny Suave: Oh really? Is that why you suffered a fatal self-inflicted wound at Extreme Election Night 2024?

Colleen Crowder: That’s preposterous! We provide a valuable service to the public!

As they continue to bicker, Rachel Maddow’s entrance music blares through the speakers. She strides down the ramp, her face a mask of determination.

Johnny Suave: Hang on.  We’ve got MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow coming down to the ring.

Maddow has a microphone in hand.

Rachel Maddow: I’ll admit, the PCW CEO match between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris didn’t go the way we thought it would… I’ll admit that our ratings have taken a hit…

Maddow climbs into the ring.

Rachel Maddow: But I’m staying with MSNBC, even if it means taking a $5 million pay cut.

Suave opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Keith Olbermann sprints down the ramp.

Johnny Suave: IT’S KEITH OLBERMANN!

In a flash, he’s behind Maddow, delivering a crushing blow to her back.

The crowd gasps as Maddow crumples to the canvas. Olbermann stands over Maddow’s prone form and a referee suddenly appears

Johnny Suave: We’ve got an impromptu match!

***

MATCH #1: Keith Olbermann vs. Rachel Maddow The bell rings, echoing through the charged atmosphere.

Johnny Suave: There’s the bell!

Maddow, recovering from the cheap shot, locks eyes with Olbermann. The tension is evident between the two former MSBNC colleagues as she gets back to her feet.

Johnny Suave: And they’re off! Maddow charges at Olbermann like a liberal bull seeing red!”

Colleen rolls her eyes and interjects a comment, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Colleen Crowder: Oh please, Suave. Maddow’s approach is clearly more nuanced than that.

The two commentators fall silent as Maddow and Olbermann lock up in the center of the ring. Suddenly, Olbermann breaks free, diving for a steel chair at ringside.

“HOLY CRAP!” Suave yells. “Olbermann’s going old school PCW!

Chair in hand, Olbermann swings wildly at Maddow, who ducks and weaves with surprising agility. The crowd roars as Maddow counters, grabbing a chair of her own from under the ring.

Colleen Crowder: This is barbaric. They should be debating policy, not-

Her words are cut short as Maddow slams the chair into Olbermann’s midsection. The two brawl their way up the ramp, trading blows and insults.

Olbermann screams, landing a right hook.

Keith Olbermann: You cost me my career!

Maddow retorts between gasps.

Rachel Maddow: You did that yourself, Keith!

As they stumble back toward the ring, the crowd begins pelting them with an assortment of objects – MAGA hats, copies of “The Russia Hoax,” even a cardboard cutout of Tucker Carlson.

Johnny Suave: It’s pandemonium, folks! The kind of chaos only PCW can deliver!

Colleen shakes her head, muttering.

Colleen Crowder: This is why people don’t trust journalists anymore.

Just as Maddow and Olbermann roll back into the ring, new entrance music blares. Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski sprint down the ramp, causing the brawl to momentarily pause.

Johnny Suave: IT’S JOE AND MIKA!  JOE AND MIKA ARE HERE!

For a moment, all four stand in the ring, sizing each other up. Then, as if on cue, Maddow and Olbermann turn and attack the newcomers.

Johnny Suave: It’s an all-out war!

Colleen sighs heavily.

As chairs fly and bodies slam against the canvas, MSNBC’s Chris Hayes suddenly appears, sliding into the ring and immediately piling onto Scarborough and Brzezinski.

Johnny Suave: IT’S CHRIS HAYES!

Colleen Crowder: What’s going on here?

Johnny Suave: Hayes from outta nowhere and we’ve got chaos!

The ring becomes a blur of flailing limbs and flying objects. Maddow DDTs Brzezinski onto a chair. Olbermann puts Hayes through a table. Scarborough wildly swings a “Morning Joe” coffee mug, connecting with anyone in reach.

The brawl spills out of the ring and into the crowd.  The referee throws his hands up and Suave turns to Colleen with a smirk.

Johnny Suave: Well… we will return with more PCW after this commercial message.

***

CBS TV Comedy Preview As the chaos in the ring reaches a fever pitch, the scene abruptly cuts to a polished CBS Television promo. The screen fills with vibrant colors and upbeat music.

Announcer: CBS proudly presents our top comedies for this season!  GHOSTS!

A montage of “Ghosts” flashes across the screen, showing Samantha and Jay Arondekar exploring their newly inherited country house.

Suave leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips.

Johnny Suave: Now there’s a show that really captures the spirit of modern journalism – people seeing things that aren’t there.

Colleen shoots him a withering glare.

Announcer: GEORGIE AND MANDY’S FIRST MARRIAGE!

The promo shifts to “Georgie and Mandy’s First Marriage,” showcasing young parents navigating life in the ’90s.

Johnny Suave: Speaking of ghosts, looks like CBS is trying to resurrect the corpse of The Big Bang Theory… again.”

Colleen rolls her eyes.

Colleen Crowder: Some of us appreciate nuanced storytelling, Suave.

Announcer: AND…

Norah O’Donnell: Hello, I’m Norah O’Donnell and welcome to CBS Evening News with Norah O’Donnell.

Norah O’Donnell appears on screen, her face set in a stern expression.

Canned laughter erupts, jarringly out of place.

Colleen’s face flushes with anger.

Colleen Crowder: This is an outrage! How dare they mock a respected journalist?

Suave can barely contain his glee.

Johnny Suave: Oh, come on, Crowder. You legacy media types did this to yourselves. Remember the Trump-Harris battle for CEO of PCW?

Colleen Crowder: That was a legitimate news story!

Johnny Suave: And let’s not forget O’Donnell and Brennan’s stellar job refereeing the Vance-Walz match.

Colleen’s voice rises.

Colleen Crowder: They were maintaining journalistic integrity in a difficult situation! They were fair referees!

As they continue to bicker, the canned laughter from the O’Donnell “promo” echoes in the background, a fitting soundtrack to the absurdity of it all.

***

MATCH #2-‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels w/the Skanky Rich Bimbos (Paris and Nicole) vs. Magnum P.O’d w/Robyn Masters The theme from Magnum P.I. blares through the arena as Kimber Marshall’s voice booms over the PA system.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, making his way to the ring, from Honolulu, Hawaii, standing 6 feet 3 inches tall and weighing in at 235 pounds… Magnum P.O’d!

The crowd erupts as Magnum P.O’d struts down the ramp, his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to reveal his chiseled abs. He locks eyes with Johnny Suave at the announcer’s table and nods confidently.

Magnum P.O’d: This ain’t my first rodeo.

Magnum winks at Robyn Masters as she joins him.

Kimber’s voice cuts through the cheers again.

Kimber Marshall: And his opponent, from New York City, New York, standing 6 feet tall and weighing 200 pounds… Mr. Hollywood, Kevin Daniels!

Boos rain down as Kevin Daniels emerges, flanked by Paris and Nicole. Taylor Switt trails behind, clutching a suspicious-looking guitar.

Johnny Suave leans into his mic.

Johnny Suave: Daniels is still smarting from that loss to PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell at Extreme Election Night. He’s hungry for another shot at the title.

Colleen Crowder rolls her eyes.

Colleen Crowder: Please, Suave. Daniels was robbed. The liberal elite always gets shafted in this backward promotion.

The bell rings and Daniels immediately ties up with Magnum, shoving him into the corner. Magnum braces for impact, but Daniels backs off, giving a clean break.

Johnny Suave: Surprising show of sportsmanship from Mr. Hollywood.

Colleen Crowder: Or a calculated move to lull Magnum into a false sense of security.

They lock up again, and this time Daniels catches Magnum in a headlock. Magnum struggles, his face reddening as he thinks, “Gotta break free before this pretty boy messes up my hair.”

Suddenly, Daniels releases the hold and both men stand off, circling each other warily. They trade go-behinds, neither able to gain the advantage.

Magnum sees an opening and lands a swift kick to Daniels’ midsection. The two begin to brawl, fists flying as the crowd goes wild.

From ringside, Robyn Masters shouts at Daniels.

Robyn Master: Hey, Hollywood! Your roots are showing!

Daniels ignores her, maneuvering Magnum towards his own corner where Taylor Switt waits, guitar raised high.

Johnny Suave: Watch out, Magnum!

Magnum’s eyes widen as he spots the guitar. He ducks just in time, narrowly avoiding a face full of white powder as Switt swings and misses.

Johnny Suave: Now that’s what I call a power chord.

Colleen groans.

Colleen Crowder: Really, Suave? Leave the comedy to the professionals.

Johnny Suave: Like Norah O’Donnell?

Colleen turns and glares at Johnny.

The momentum shifts as Daniels attempts a Sunset Flip, but Magnum’s raw power prevails. He counters, hoisting Daniels up for a thunderous power bomb that shakes the ring.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! Magnum’s splitting atoms with that power bomb!

Colleen Crowder: If only we could harness that energy for climate change solutions.

Magnum covers Daniels, but the ref’s hand barely touches the mat twice before Daniels kicks out. Undeterred, Magnum follows up with a crisp dropkick to Daniels’ knee, eliciting a howl of pain from Mr. Hollywood.

Johnny Suave: That’ll put a dent in Daniels’ red carpet strut.

Magnum ascends the turnbuckle, his massive frame silhouetted against the arena lights. He launches into a diving headbutt, connecting squarely with Daniels’ skull. The impact reverberates through the ring, but somehow Daniels kicks out at two again.

From ringside, Paris and Nicole’s shrill voices pierce the air. “Come on, Kevin! Show them why you’re Mr. Hollywood!”

Magnum, frustration etched on his face, climbs the ropes once more. This time, Taylor Switt seizes her chance, shoving him off-balance. Magnum crashes to the mat as Daniels rolls away, a smirk playing on his lips.

Johnny Suave: Taylor Switt proving she can be as dirty as a politician’s campaign finances!

Colleen Crowder: Taylor Switt is a national treasure!

The tide turns as Paris tosses a steel chair into the ring. Daniels snatches it up, bringing it down on Magnum’s back with a sickening thud.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The crowd’s boos reach a fever pitch as Daniels follows up with a snap powerslam.

Johnny Suave: DANIELS FOR THE WIN!

“One… Two…” The referee counts, but Magnum kicks out at the last second.

Magnum struggles to his feet, his eyes blazing with determination. But as he lunges forward, Daniels swings the chair again, connecting with Magnum’s skull. The sickening crunch of bone meeting steel echoes through the arena as Daniels executes a brutal neckbreaker on Magnum. The crowd gasps collectively.

Johnny Suave: Oh my God! Daniels just folded Magnum like a cheap suit with that neckbreaker!

Colleen Crowder: It’s a metaphor for how the progressive agenda is going to restructure this country, Johnny.

Daniels, his perfectly coiffed hair barely out of place, hooks Magnum’s leg for the cover. The referee’s hand slaps the mat once… twice…

Johnny Suave: This could be it!

But Magnum, showing the resilience of a true patriot, kicks out at two. Daniels’ face contorts with Hollywood-level dramatics. Daniels shrieks, his voice dripping with entitlement…

Kevin Daniels: You’ve got to be kidding me!  Do you know who I am?

Magnum, dazed but determined, counters with a surprise roll-up. For a moment, it seems like the tide might turn.

Colleen Crowder: This is outrageous! Magnum’s clearly using underhanded tactics!

Johnny Suave: It’s called strategy, Colleen. Something your ‘reliable sources’ might want to look into.

Daniels, however, manages to grab the ropes, breaking the count. He shoves Magnum back with disdain, his eyes darting to the chair lying nearby. In one fluid motion, he scoops it up and brings it crashing down on Magnum’s skull.

Johnny Suave: Another vicious chair shot by Mr. Hollywood.

The impact sends Magnum staggering towards the corner where Taylor Switt waits, her guitar poised like a loaded weapon.

Johnny Suave: TAYLOR SWITT…

As Magnum turns, confusion etched on his face, Switt swings. CRACK!

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The guitar explodes on contact, a cloud of white powder engulfing Magnum’s head.

Johnny Suave: Taylor Switt just hit Magnum with more powder than a ski slope in Aspen!

Colleen Crowder: It’s probably just stage effects, Johnny. Stop trying to sensationalize everything.

Through the haze, Daniels seizes his moment. He hoists Magnum up, a smirk playing on his lips.

Kevin Daniels: Lights, camera, action!

Daniels executes the Hollywood Blockbuster and Magnum crashes to the mat, motionless. Daniels covers him, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

The referee’s hand comes down. One… Two… Three!

Johnny Suave: It’s over! Daniels steals one with help from his Hollywood entourage!

As Daniels’ music hits and he preens for the booing crowd, Magnum lies still in the ring.

Colleen Crowder: Steals? This was a clear victory for progressive values, Johnny. The people have spoken.

The bell rings, its shrill tone cutting through the stunned silence of the arena.

Kimber Marshall: The winner of this match… ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels!

Daniels stands in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, a mixture of sweat and white powder from the guitar covering his body. His eyes, cold and calculating, scan the crowd. He motions for a microphone, snatching it from a nearby stagehand.

***

‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels’ Promo He scowls at the booing fans, his voice dripping with disdain.

Kevin Daniels: You people, you uneducated masses, you think you know everything, don’t you?

The crowd erupts in a chorus of boos, but Daniels merely smirks. He’s basking in their hatred, feeding off it.

Kevin Daniels: PCW is nothing more than a reflection of this country’s stunted adolescence. You’re all so arrogant, so sure of yourselves.

As he speaks, Daniels paces the ring, his eyes never leaving the crowd. He’s performing now, every movement calculated for maximum effect.

Kevin Daniels: You think you understand the world? Ha! Most of you don’t even have passports. You’ve never left your little bubbles, never experienced true culture.

The boos intensify, but Daniels is on a roll. He’s channeling every ounce of his frustration over Donald Trump’s recent victory into this promo.

Kevin Daniels: You sit there, in your blissful ignorance, completely unaware of the real issues facing our world. Climate change, Ukraine, Israel – you can’t even point to these places on a map!

Daniels pauses, letting his words sink in. He can feel the anger radiating from the crowd, and it fuels him further.

Kevin Daniels: But don’t worry.  I’m here to educate you. And it starts with me taking that PCW title.

As the crowd’s disapproval reaches a deafening crescendo, Daniels raises the microphone to his lips one last time.

Kevin Daniels: Get ready for a lesson you won’t forget.

Daniels drops the microphone and poses with the Skanky Rich Bimbos Paris and Nicole and ‘Country… er… Pop Songstress Taylor Switt.

Johnny Suave: Mr. Hollywood wins the match and then loses the post-match with his arrogant, patronizing, and condescending rant.

Colleen Crowder: Kevin Daniels speaks the truth, Johnny.

Johnny Suave: Speaking of truth, let’s check back in to The View where Sunny Hostin has to read another ‘legal note.

***

Look-in at The View The jumbotron flickers to life and again, Sunny Hostin looks at the camera with the look of a hostage being forced to read a statement

Sunny Hostin: I, Sunny Hostin, once again… sincerely apologize for my comments regarding…

She trails off, her words barely audible as the crowd jeers.

Woodward Bernstein News Story The camera zooms in on Woodward Bernstein’s furrowed brow as he adjusts his tie, preparing to deliver his hard-hitting report. His steely gaze meets the camera lens.

Woodward Bernstein: Woodward Bernstein here.  In the wake of Donald Trump’s stunning victory over Kamala Harris, the question on everyone’s mind is: who’s really calling the shots in PCW now?

Bernstein’s voice carries the gravitas of a seasoned journalist.

The scene cuts to Dawn McGill’s office, where the PCW owner lounges in her leather chair, legs crossed, exuding an air of supreme confidence.

Dawn McGill: Well… duh!

Dawn smirks, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

Bernstein, undeterred, presses on.

Woodward Bernstein: Besides you, Dawn.

Images flash across the screen: Trump holding court at Mar-a-Lago, surrounded by a motley crew of political wrestling dignitaries. The screen flickers to life, revealing a luxurious ballroom adorned with gold and marble. Trump sits at the head of a long table, surrounded by his loyal followers.

Woodward Bernstein (narrating): While Trump basks in his Florida stronghold, entertaining a parade of sycophants and opportunists…

Cut to Trump in France meeting with Prince William at the Notre Dame cathedral reopening.

Woodward Bernstein (narrating): …or overseas, talking with future Kings, meanwhile…

The scene abruptly shifts to the African savanna. Joe Biden, draped in dark robes and his head under a dark hood resembling an evil character from a well-known space-related movie franchise stumbles through the room in a frenzied state. His aides, dressed in hooded cloaks, skitter around him nervously. His eyes, glowing with an otherworldly energy, dart erratically.

Woodward Bernstein (narrating): …Supreme Dark Overlord Biden is in Africa for a tour…

Suddenly, bolts of energy shoot from Biden’s eyes, frying an unsuspecting gazelle. Biden’s aides scramble to contain the situation, but their efforts prove futile.

Woodward Bernstein (narrating): …leaving destruction in his wake.

The camera pans to show a herd of elephants fleeing in terror as they become targets of Biden’s wrath.

Aide: Get him away from the damn camera!

The aide is then reduced to a smoldering pile of ash by Biden’s misdirected gaze.

Aide: Get him away from the aide-AARGHHHHHHH!

That aide is also reduced to a smoldering pile of ash by Biden’s misdirected gaze.

Bernstein, now on screen, opens his mouth to deliver his closing remarks.

Woodward Bernstein: This is Woodward Bernstein…

A stray bolt of energy whizzes past his ear. His eyes widen in terror.

Woodward Bernstein: …signing off quickly!

Bernstein dives out of the frame as another bolt of energy sizzles by.

The camera cuts back to Suave and Colleen, both looking shell-shocked.

Johnny Suave: Well now. It’s a good thing Hunter Biden isn’t along on the trip.  He might not have needed the pardon.

Colleen’s eyelids go up as far as they can go. She slowly turns her head towards Johnny.

Colleen Crowder: I hate you.

***

A DOGE Commercial The screen fades to black, then a rugged American landscape appears.

Booming Announcer Guy: In a world of bloated bureaucracy…

Elon Musk’s face fills the frame, wind tousling his hair as he stands atop a rocky outcrop.

Elon Musk: America needs a leaner, meaner government machine.

Cut to Vivek Ramaswamy, striding purposefully across the Washington Mall.

Vivek Ramaswamy: That’s why we’ve created DOGE – the Department of Government Efficiency.

A montage flashes by: stacks of papers being shredded, computers shutting down, “CLOSED” signs appearing on agency doors.

Musk, now behind the wheel of a cybertruck, grins.

Elon Musk: We’re trimming the fat and cutting the red tape.

Ramaswamy, seated beside him, adds…

Vivek Ramaswamy: And we’re doing it faster than you can say ‘balanced budget.’

The truck careens through D.C., leaving bewildered bureaucrats in its wake. Musk thinks, This is even more fun than Twitter.

Vivek Ramaswamy: With DOGE, we’re not just making government smaller. We’re making it work for you.

The cybertruck screeches to a halt before the Capitol. Both men leap out, striding towards the building with purpose.

Musk turns to the camera.

Elon Musk: Because in Trump’s America, efficiency isn’t just a buzzword.

Vivek Ramaswamy: It’s a way of life.

As they reach the steps, Musk can’t help but smirk. Who knew government work could be this entertaining?

The screen fades to black, revealing the DOGE logo – a Shiba Inu wearing a red “Make America Great Again” hat.

***

MAIN EVENT: Neal Conn-making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order (Conservative Inc.) vs. Ken Worth-American Trucker (Main Street USA) The arena lights dim as Kimber Marshall’s statuesque figure takes center stage, her brunette waves cascading over her shoulders. She raises the microphone to her lips, her voice booming with theatrical flair.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our next bout! Introducing first, representing Conservative Inc… making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order… Neal Conn!

Conn struts down the ramp with Hallie Burton- protector of the military-industrial complex.

Johnny Suave: Here he comes… the champion of Conservative Inc… the anti-Trump faction in the American Patriots… Neal Conn…making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order… I’m contractually obligated to say that.

Kimber’s voice rises with anticipation.

Kimber Marshall: And his opponent, from the heartland of Gary, Indiana, standing 6’2″ and weighing in at 225 pounds… The American Trucker, Ken Worth!”

Ken emerges, flanked by Sarah Mae Smith. The crowd erupts, and Ken feels a surge of pride.

Johnny Suave: Ken Worth isn’t just fighting for himself tonight; he’s fighting for every hardworking American who’s been overlooked by the elites.

Crowder’s reaction is as dismissive as ever.

Colleen Crowder: How noble. I’m just going to sit this one out.

The bell rings, and Conn and Worth circle each other warily. They lock up, muscles straining.

With a burst of power, Ken breaks the hold and lands a solid right hook. Conn staggers back, surprise etched on his face.

Johnny Suave: Big right hand by Worth and Neal Conn was NOT expecting that.

Conn lunges forward, but Ken’s ready. He catches Conn in a suplex, slamming him to the mat.

Johnny Suave: Ken Worth covers!

The referee counts: “One… Two…” Conn kicks out, and Ken feels a flicker of frustration.

Ken follows up with a boot to Conn’s face that sends him tumbling out of the ring.

Ken pursues Conn.

Johnny Suave: Just like these politicians, always running when things get tough.

But Conn’s craftier than he looks. He catches Ken with a drop toehold, sending him crashing into a chair that Hallie’s conveniently placed.

Johnny Suave: Ken Worth just walked right into that one.

Pain explodes in Ken’s forehead as Conn slams him into the ring post.

Johnny Suave: Face versus steel ring post?  Ring post wins every time and Ken Worth is busted open.

Blood trickles down Ken’s face as Conn throws him back into the ring.

Johnny Suave: Ken Worth has to be thinking is this what it’s come to? The working man bleeding while the elite stay clean- JAKE BRAKE!

Desperate, Ken attempts his finisher, the Jake Brake.

Johnny Suave: NO!

But Conn counters, transitioning smoothly into a Death Valley Driver.

Johnny Suave: Ken Worth’s back hits the mat and I’m sure he can’t help but wonder if this is a metaphor for something bigger – the American worker, brought low by policies he never asked for.

The referee’s hand slaps the mat. “One… Two…” Ken kicks out.

Johnny Suave: NO!  Ken Worth kicks out and his spirit as unbreakable as the open road he calls home. The fight’s not over yet, not by a long shot.

Conn, his face a mask of disdain, rolls Worth up again. The referee’s hand slaps the mat once, twice… but Worth kicks out again.

Johnny Suave: Again Ken Worth kicks out… his determination is as unyielding as the steel of the rig he drives

Desperation fuels Worth as he delivers a low blow, momentarily stunning Conn.

Johnny Suave: Ken Worth goes low but hey… sometimes you gotta fight dirty to level the playing field.

He attempts the Jake Brake again, but Conn, ever the cunning politician, blocks it and transitions into a devastating Tombstone. As Worth’s world spins, he hears the crowd’s collective gasp.

Conn goes for the cover, but Sarah Mae Smith, her voice cutting through the chaos, distracts the referee.

Johnny Suave: Neal Conn had the pinfall but Sarah Mae Smith saves him.

“That’s my girl,” Worth thinks hazily, “always looking out for the little guy.”

Conn, enraged, turns to berate the official. It’s the opening Worth needs. With a surge of adrenaline, he clobbers Conn from behind.

Johnny Suave: How’s that for Main Street justice?

Outside the ring, Hallie Burton charges at Sarah Mae.

Johnny Suave: Here we go…

The two women collide in a flurry of fists.

Johnny Suave: …CAAAAAAT-FIGHT!  CAAAAT-FIGHT!

Burton and Sarah Mae roll around on the floor, their struggle mirroring the larger ideological battle playing out in the ring.

Johnny Suave: Conn and Worth trade blows, each strike echoing the clash between elitism and populism.

Colleen rolls her eyes.

Suddenly, Conn lands a dropkick that sends Worth reeling.

Johnny Suave: Big drop kick and Worth is in trouble.

Desperate, Worth attempts one last Jake Brake.

Johnny Suave: JAKE BRAKE- NO!

But Conn, with the slippery evasiveness of a career politician, blocks it and unleashes his finisher.

Johnny Suave: MONEY MAKER!

Worth hits the mat and Conn rolls him up.

Johnny Suave: Is this how it ends? The working man crushed under the boot of big money?

The referee’s hand slaps the mat. One. Two. Three.

Johnny Suave: Yes.

Kimber Marshall: The winner of this match… Neal Conn!

***

Neal Conn Comments Neal Conn stands in the center of the ring, his expensive suit still immaculate despite the grueling match. He snatches the microphone from Kimber, his eyes gleaming with disdain as he surveys the booing crowd and addresses them with a sneer and a voice dripping with contempt.

Neal Conn: Listen up, you pathetic excuses for citizens.  Just like in Washington, DC, in PCW there’s a way things are done. You might not like it, but guess what? Your opinions are as worthless as Ken Worth was in the ring tonight.

The crowd’s boos intensify, but Conn’s smirk only grows wider. He relishes their impotent rage.

Neal Conn: Oh, you think Donald Trump can swoop in and dismantle the power structure we’ve so carefully crafted?

Conn chuckles, shaking his head.

Neal Conn: How adorably naive. Conservative Inc. isn’t some sandcastle to be kicked over by a populist bully. We are the bedrock of this nation’s political landscape.

Hallie Burton nods emphatically at ringside, her perfectly coiffed hair barely moving as she does. Conn locks eyes with her, drawing strength from their shared contempt for the masses.

Neal Conn: And as for Charlie Blackwell, the PCW champion is nothing more than a court jester, entertaining the peasants while the real power brokers make the decisions that matter.

He pauses, savoring the outrage rippling through the arena. These fools, Conn thinks, so easily manipulated by empty rhetoric and false promises. If only they knew how insignificant they truly are.

Neal Conn: Let me make this crystal clear for you simpletons. The ‘little people’ don’t matter. Your votes, your voices, your dreams – they’re all inconsequential. In this world, money talks, and we hold all the cash.

Hallie Burton applauds enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. Conn allows himself a small smile of appreciation for his ally before turning back to the seething crowd.

Neal Conn: So go ahead, cheer for your working-class heroes…

Conn gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

Neal Conn: …just remember who really pulls the strings.

With that, Conn drops the microphone, letting it hit the canvas with a reverberating thud. He exits the ring, Hallie falling in step beside him, leaving behind a storm of anger and frustration in their wake.

Johnny Suave: Well… we’ve heard from both ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels and we’ve heard from Neal Conn… making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order… I’m-

Colleen Crowder: We know.  You’re contractually obligated to say that.

Johnny Suave: Right.  Next week at the final PCW Extreme Political TV of 2024… Neal Conn of the American Patriots… ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels… and PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell will meet in a three-way dance for the PCW Title.

Colleen Crowder: And I’m obligated to say… GO KEVIN DANIELS!

Johnny Suave: Speaking of contractual obligations, let’s check back in to The View where Sunny Hostin once again has to read another ‘legal note.

Colleen Crowder: Johnny, do we have-

Look-in at The View The jumbotron flickers to life. Sunny Hostin looks at the camera with the look of a hostage being forced to read a statement.

Sunny Hostin: I, Sunny Hostin, once again… sincerely apologize… once again… for my comments… once again… regarding-

***

Pulp Fiction Videos The screen flickers to life, revealing PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell’s rugged face, his eyes burning with intensity. He leans into the camera, his Texan drawl thick with conviction.

Charlie Blackwell: Listen up, folks. The people spoke loud and clear in November, and let me tell you, the status quo ain’t cutting it anymore.

Charlie’s jaw clenches, his fists balling at his sides. He’s thinking about all the hardworking Americans he represents, the ones who’ve been ignored for far too long.

Charlie Blackwell: We’re done with the same old song and dance. It’s time for real change, and I’m here to deliver it.

***

The scene abruptly cuts to Professor McCarthy, standing in his Berkeley office. He’s holding up a thick book, its cover emblazoned with “The Good Book of Political Correctness.”

McCarthy’s voice drips with condescension as he addresses the camera.

Professor McCarthy: The people don’t understand what they’ve done. They’re misguided, uninformed. It’s only people like me they should be listening to.

He taps the book emphatically, his eyes wild with self-righteousness.

Professor McCarthy: This book contains everything that’s acceptable to think, say, or do. Anything else is simply wrong.

***

The scene shifts again, this time to a luxurious box overlooking the PCW arena. The Progressive Alliance is in chaos, its members shouting over each other.

Voice: How could we lose?

Lots of accusatory fingers being pointed.

Another Voice: We spent millions!

Another, Another Voice: What do you mean millions?  We spent BILLIONS!

Another slams their fist on a table.

Yet, Another, Another Voice: Our message was perfect! The people are just too stupid to understand!

***

As the arguments escalate, the camera pans to a quiet corner where a middle-aged couple sits, holding hands. The husband speaks softly.

Husband: We’ve been married for over 25 years now. It hasn’t always been easy, but we’ve worked through every problem.

His wife nods, smiling.

Wife: Instead of giving up, we committed to each other. That’s what real love is about.

As they lean in for a kiss, the words “VIRTUE SIGNALING” flash across the bottom of the screen in bold, ironic letters.

The camera lingers on this scene of genuine affection amidst the chaos, a stark contrast to the manufactured outrage surrounding them.

***

The screen flickers, and suddenly Professor McCarthy’s face fills the frame, his eyes bulging with fury. He’s red-faced, spittle flying as he shouts directly into the camera.

Professor McCarthy: Free speech? HAH!

He slams his fist on the podium before him.

Professor McCarthy: We’ll tell you what to say! What to think! And if you dare disagree… we’ll shout you down!

The professor’s face contorts with rage, veins pulsing in his forehead.

Professor McCarthy: Conformity is safety! Obedience is freedom!

***

The scene abruptly cuts to PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell, standing in the center of the ring. His weathered face is calm, but his eyes burn with determination.

Charlie Blackwell: Folks…

Charlie adjusts his championship belt.

Charlie Blackwell: …next week, we’re gonna see a match that’s about more than just wrastlin’. It’s about the soul of this here federation.”

Charlie paces the ring, his boots thudding on the canvas.

Charlie Blackwell: On one side, we’ve got Neal Conn and that Hollywood pretty boy, Kevin Daniels. They represent everythin’ that’s wrong with the establishment.

He stops, facing the camera.

Charlie Blackwell: And on the other side? Well, that’s you and me. The people. The ones they look down on from their ivory towers.

Charlie’s voice drops to a growl.

Charlie Blackwell: But let me tell you somethin’. They may have the money, but we’ve got the heart. And in PCW, heart wins every time.

***

The scene shifts once more to the Progressive Alliance’s luxury box. It’s pandemonium. Glasses shatter, papers fly, and voices rise in a cacophony of blame and recrimination.

One Faction: We need to move further left!

Another Group: No, we need to appeal to the center!

In the midst of the chaos, Kevin Daniels stands silent, his face a mask of contempt. He thinks to himself, “These fools. They don’t understand. It’s not about left or right. It’s about power.”

As the arguments intensify and the show fades to black, Kevin’s smirk is the last thing visible, a harbinger of the battles yet to come.

[pcwpolwrestling]

11/30-PCW Extreme Political TV

Last Week on PCW Extreme Political TV: -MATCH #1 (joined in progress): Dave McCormick (PA-Amer Patriots) defeated Bob Casey (PA-Prog Alliance) -Incoming CEO of PCW Donald Trump enters the arena accompanied by Elon Musk, Robert F. Kennedy, Tulsi Gabbard, J.D. Vance, and Mike Johnson. -A quick look-in at The View where Sunny Hostin has to read a ‘legal note.’ -State of California Commercial -A young couple virtue signals about paying their bills on time. -MATCH #2: The SEC Squad defeated The Buffet Club -MSNBC’s Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski explain why they visited with Donald Trump and gets jumped by Keith Olbermann and Rosie O’Donnell -Berkeley, California Professor McCarthy then shows up waving his ‘good book’ and stating anyone who doesn’t confirm to the orthodoxy must be shouted down. -Virtue signaling man not feeling well but still going to work anyways. -PSA for Late Night talk show hosts -American Patriot Senators Lisa Murkowski (Alaska), Susan Collins (Maine), John Curtis (Utah), and McConnell (Kentucky) attack and throw Matt Gaetz (Florida) off the Eagle’s Nest to the arena floor. Pam Bondi then runs in and takes them out with steel-folding chair shots. -More virtue signaling -New Bud Light commercial -PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell cuts a promo over his win against Kevin Daniels. He’s then attacked by Neal Conn and Hallie Burton. -Epilogue- Kamala Harris has the hat out looking for donations to cover the 20 million debt she left behind after her campaign.

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV PCW Headquarters Somewhere in the Heartland Saturday November 30th, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Kirk Walstreit (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism- Since 3/3/2024 (American Patriots) Contenders: The Deplorables: Ray McAvay/’Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan (American Heartland Coalition) The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer Wall Street World: Kirk Walstreit/P.M.C. Banks

Opening: The studio lights flare to life, illuminating Johnny Suave’s perfectly coiffed hair as he stands before a wall emblazoned with the PCW logo. His trademark smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as he adjusts his tie, preparing to deliver the news that will set the wrestling world ablaze.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, happy Thanksgiving!  Welcome to our special two-hour Thanksgiving special.  Tonight, we’ve got a feast of political pandemonium that’ll make your family dinner look like a tea party!

He pauses, savoring the moment. In his mind, he can already hear the roar of the crowd, the chants echoing through the arena. This is what he lives for.

Johnny Suave: We’re serving up all three PCW CEO matches featuring our new big cheese, the new CEO of PCW, Donald Trump! And let me tell you, folks, this story’s got more twists than a pretzel factory!  We’ve got Trump’s 2016 win over Hillary Clinton.  We’ve got Trump’s loss by proxy to Joe Biden in 2020.  And then we’ve got Trump going over Kamala Harris in 2024.

Suave leans in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a stage whisper.

Johnny Suave: Remember 2016? No one thought Donald Trump had a chance in hell to defeat Hillary Clinton. When Trump clotheslined Clinton right out of the Oval Office? Nobody saw that coming! It was like Stone Chism pulling off an Anti-Hollywood Blockbuster on the entire Democratic party!”

He straightens up, gesturing grandly.

Johnny Suave: Well, buckle up, buttercup, ’cause we’re taking you back to where it all began. PCW Extreme Election Night 2016… Donald Trump versus Hillary Clinton.

***

The 2016 Battle for PCW CEO-Hillary Clinton (Progressive Alliance) vs. Donald Trump (American Patriots)Back to Suave and Colleen at the broadcast desk with the crowd buzzing in anticipation for the PCW CEO showdown that’s just mere moments away.

Johnny Suave: Johnny Suave back with the low-level reporter trying to make a name for herself at the New York Times Colleen Crowder…

Colleen Crowder: Do you have to say it like that?

Johnny Suave: …and we are just about ready for the big match to determine who will become the next PCW CEO.

Both Clinton and Trump supporters rise to their feet, holding up their pro-Clinton and pro-Trump signs and shouting dueling chants of ‘I’M WITH HER!’ and ‘TRUMP…TRUMP…TRUMP!’ back and forth at each other.

Johnny Suave (talking louder): Joining us now is Five Thirty Eight’s Nate Silver.  Silver, of course, boldly predicted four years ago at PCW Extreme Election Night 2012 that Triple R would win the PCW Title and Barack Obama would win a second four year run as PCW CEO.

The camera pans to the right and adds Silver to the picture.

Johnny Suave: Nate, thanks for joining us.

Nate Silver: My pleasure, Johnny.

Johnny Suave: Your insight on what you think will happen tonight.

Nate Silver: Well Johnny.  As of right now, I believe Hillary Clinton has a 70% chance of winning this match.  I think it’ll be close.  But I think the distinct trend is towards Hillary right now.

Colleen Crowder: Nate, I think you’re being too cautious.  The New York Times believes that Hillary Clinton’s chances of becoming the first ever woman to become PCW CEO is around 85%.  There’s simply no way that Trump will win this match tonight.

Nate Silver: I wouldn’t go that far Colleen.  Yes, I believe Hillary Clinton is the clear favorite here tonight. But, I still maintain that the match will be closer than most think it will.  There’s still a path for a possible Trump victory.  For starters, Clinton doesn’t have the solid advantage that Barack Obama had against Mitt Romney four years ago.

Colleen Crowder: Yeah but that’s not the narrative we’re running with.  Hillary Clinton will win this match tonight because Trump is not qualified to be PCW CEO.

Johnny Suave: You know Colleen, narrative-driven news is to journalism what World Wrestling Entertainment is to the sport of wrestling.

Once she comprehends what Suave has just said to her, Colleen glares at him and her eyes shoot daggers through Suave.  She grits her teeth.

Colleen Crowder (slowly): Eighty…five…percent…

Johnny Suave: We’d better get to the ring.  Kimber Marshall, take it away!

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen.  This next match will determine who will become the next CEO of Political Championship Wrestling!

“I’M WITH HER!…I’M WITH HER!”

“TRUMP!  TRUMP!  TRUMP!”

Kimber Marshall: Introducing first…

The lights cut out and music starts…

DUH.

DUH.

DUH.

DUH-DUH-DUHHHH

DUH-DUH-DUHHHHH.

Dressed in all black complete with a flowing black cape, Donald Trump and his manager Kellyanne Conway walk out on stage to a big ovation from the American Patriots.  Some of the more official types of the American Patriots…ie…John McCain, Susan Collins, and Rick Perry, who sit down front close to ringside, don’t seem overly enthusiastic with their support.

Back on stage, the leader of the American Patriots Reince Priebus filters in behind along with PCW Executive Committee member Paul Ryan.

Johnny Suave: Trump looks particularly sinister tonight!

Colleen Crowder: It’s hideous Johnny.  Simply hideous.  We really need Hillary to win.

Conway leads the way as Trump, black robe ruffling behind him as he strides, makes his way down the steps from the stage and heads toward the ring.

Kimber Marshall: Residing in the Trump Tower in the great city of New York, New York!  He promises to…

The Trump supporters shout out: “MAKE PCW GREAT AGAIN!”

Kimber Marshall: Managed tonight by Kellyanne Conway, accompanied by his Second in Command Mike Pence, and representing the American Patriots!  LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!  DONALD J. TRUMP!

Again, the Trump Supporters let loose with thunderous roar that shakes the building.  Trump nods and acknowledges the fans.

Johnny Suave: Donald Trump climbs into the ring.  Can be make history of his own here tonight by becoming the next PCW CEO?

Colleen Crowder: NO!  I mean, David Brooks from the New York Times is a conservative and even he doesn’t think Donald Trump should be PCW CEO.

Johnny Suave: David Brooks is conservative for the New York Times, yes.

The supporters “TRUMP!  TRUMP! TRUMP!” chant merges with the Imperial March and becomes:

“TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP”

Trump holds the ring ropes open for Kellyanne Conway to slip through.  Pence, Priebus and Ryan join them.

Kimber Marshall: And his opponent.

Imperial March- off…

♫ What happened at the New Wil’ins?  Bitch, I’m back, by popular demand ♫

…Beyonce’s ‘Formation’- on.  The house lights cut out and then start flashing to the beat causing the Progressive Alliance fans to leap out of their seats.

Quick cut to the upper section where Amy Schumer and Chelsea Handler are dancing on their chairs, Miley Cyrus is on the table twerking, and Madonna…well, we don’t really want to know what she’s doing right now.

Kimber Marshall (loudly over the blaring music): Managed by Robby Mook and accompanied by her Second in Command Tim Kaine,  Debbie Wasserman-Shultz, and her husband…FORMER PCW CEO William Jefferson Clinton!

Beyonce comes out on stage lip-synching to her song.  She and Jay-Z lead the parade to the ring.  Next out, Mook, Wasserman-Shultz, and Bill Clinton.

Kimber Marshall: From Chappaqua, New York.  Representing the Progressive Alliance!

Next out, Bill and Hillary’s daughter Chelsea Clinton.

Kimber Marshall: And vying to make history by becoming the first ever woman to become CEO of PCW!

Finally, Hillary Clinton walks out wearing a white pants suit.

Kimber Marshall: PLEASE GIVE IT UP FOR…HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON!

The A-List celebrities in the top section of Hack’s stand up and shout.  On the floor, the Progressive Alliance section is simply rocking.  Hillary Clinton signs bobbing up and down, moving left to right as Beyonce continues to lip synch her song and dance down the aisle.

Reaching the ring, Hillary climbs up the steps first and ducks into the ring, followed by her husband and daughter.

Johnny Suave: Oh wow!  Listen to that ovation for Hillary Clinton.  Both sides are geared up for what promises to be an incredible match.

Colleen Crowder: Again Johnny.  According to the New York Times calculations, it’s going to be an early night, it’s going to be a quick match, because Donald Trump has no chance to defeat Hillary Clinton.

Johnny Suave: Nate?

Nate Silver: The odds are definitely in Ms. Clinton’s favor but I won’t go that far to say that he has no chance.

Johnny Suave: Thanks for your insight.  Nate Silver, everyone.  Let’s take it back to the ring and the referee in charge of this match- Corrina Romanov.

The name Romanov causes Colleen to cock her head quizzically to the side.

Romanov enters the ring wearing the appropriate white and black striped referee’s shirt and black pants.  A former wrestler of her own right, she gets a healthy round of applause from the patrons of Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon.

Colleen Crowder: Hold on…isn’t she like- Russian?

Romanov goes over to Trump and does the usual pre-match check.

Johnny Suave: She is.  So what?

Then Romanov walks over to Clinton’s corner and does the same.

Colleen Crowder: Nothing.  It’s just…strange…that PCW would assign a Russian referee for this match.

Johnny Suave: Nah, you’re overthinking this.  Hold on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen.  We are just about ready to go.

Satisfied, Romanov turns to the bell table and calls for the bell.

Johnny Suave: And here we go!

“I’M WITH HER! I’M WITH HER!…” 

Johnny Suave: LISTEN TO THE DUELLING CHANTS!

“TRUMP! TRUMP! TRUMP!…”

Johnny Suave: THE NOISE IS JUST DEAFENING IN HERE!

Both Trump and Clinton cautiously walk forward from their respective corners and circle each other in the middle of the ring.

Then out of nowhere, Clinton drives a knee to the balls.  Trump crumples over.  And the Progressive Alliance section goes nuts.

Johnny Suave: CLINTON DRAWS FIRST BLOOD!

Clinton whips Trump into her corner where he’s greeted with a few forearm shots from her husband Bill.  He lays in more big forearms on Trump.  Hillary follows up with some knife-edge chops.  Trump then whips Clinton across the ring into the opposite corner.

Johnny Suave: Trump sends Clinton for the ride…

Trump sets up for a backdrop but Clinton flips over him and then delivers a punt kick to the jewels.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Dropping to his knees, Trump’s face scrunches in pain.  Clinton moves behind him.  Basement dropkick to the back sends Trump down face first to the mat.  She rolls him over for a cover.

One.

Tw-

Johnny Suave: Easy kick out for Donald Trump.

Debbie Wasserman-Shultz shouts at the referee and then slams her hand down on the mat in the same rapid-fire fashion she’d done when Hillary defeated Bernie Sanders in Philadelphia.

Colleen Crowder: That was a slow count.

Johnny Suave: Any count is slow compared to what Wasserman-Shultz did to Sanders.

Trump fights back to his feet and tries to stop the momentum.  But Clinton scratches his eyes and then hits a knee to the gut.  Russian Leg Sweep follows and Trump is right back on the ground.  Clinton again makes the cover but Trump out of nowhere pushes her off and then rolls her up.

Johnny Suave: TRUMP REVERSES.  COVER!

The American Patriots rise up in anticipation.

One

Two.

Johnny Suave: NO!  HILLARY GRABBED THE BOTTOM ROPE!

Romanov calls for a break.  While she tries to get Hillary to let go of the bottom rope, Bill Clinton sneaks in and pokes Trump in the eye.  He recoils back and covers his eye.

Johnny Suave: She’s not letting go of the rope.  WHAT?

What?  Suave does a doubletake when Captain America…yes…Captain America runs down and slides into the ring.

Johnny Suave: What the hell is this?

Colleen Crowder: It’s Captain America.

Johnny Suave: I know it’s Captain America.  Why is Captain America in the ring?

Trump staggers back.  Captain America takes his shield and then blasts him in the back of the head with it.

Johnny Suave: Oh…that’s why.

Captain America stares at the downed Trump, who’s holding his head from the shield shot.  He then pulls off his mask.

Colleen Crowder: Hey!  That’s Chris Evans from the Avengers movie!

Johnny Suave: Where is the referee?

Referee Corrina Romanov is in deep conversation with ABC’s Martha Raddatz at the edge of the ring.

Johnny Suave: MARTHA RADDATZ IS AT RINGSIDE?  WHAT IS SHE DOING?

Suave sees Evans pick up the shield.

Johnny Suave: What is he doing?

Evans places the Captain America shield in Trump’s groin area.  Then Iron Man jumps into the ring carrying a bowling ball bag.

Johnny Suave: WHAT IS IRON MAN DOING HERE?

Iron Man (okay… it’s really Robert Downey, Jr. playing Iron Man) takes the bowling ball bag, lifts it in the air, and slams it into the shield.

*CLANK*

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Crowd: Oooooooooohhhhh!

Trump rolls back and forth in excruciating pain.

Johnny Suave: KELLYANNE CONWAY IS ON THE RING APRON SCREAMING AT CORRINA ROMANOV!

Finally, Conway gets Romanov’s attention and the referee refocuses her attention back to the match and sees Evans and Downey in the ring.  She immediately chases both Hollywood stars from the ring.  Which, of course, allows Hillary to indulge in a little blatant choking while the referee continues to be distracted.

Colleen Crowder: I’ve changed my mind.  I now believe that Hillary Clinton has a 90% chance of winning.  She’s totally dominating him.

Clinton uses the boots to deliver a shot to the gut and another.   Trump finally trips Clinton up and sends her to the mat.

Johnny Suave: Big boot by Trump knocks Clinton off her feet.  But there’s a lot of worried faces at ringside.

Quick cut to the American Patriots section.  Reince Priebus brings a hand to his chin.  Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell both watch the action with extremely concerned expressions on their face.

Back to the ring where Clinton has gone over and talks with Robby Mook.

Johnny Suave: Bad idea.  She can’t give Trump time to recover like that.

Trump pulls himself back up again.  He goes right over to Hillary and they trade forearm strikes.  Trump whips her into the corner and then catches Clinton on the rebound with a Bulldog.

Clinton tries to whip Trump to her corner but Trump blocks, lifts Hillary up, bringing her legs off the ground, and falls backward to the mat sending her back-first to the mat.

Johnny Suave: SIDEWALK SLAM BY TRUMP.  HE COVERS.

One.

Two.

Johnny Suave: WHAT THE HELL IS CNN’S ANDERSON COOPER DOING IN THE RING?

Just as Corrina Romanov starts to lower her hand down for three, Anderson Cooper bolts into the ring out of the blue and pushes Trump off of Clinton.

Johnny Suave: COOPER MAKES THE SAVE!

Colleen Crowder: Maybe we should reduce the chances of Hillary winning back to 85%.

While Hillary scoots back to her corner, Trump gets into Romanov’s face and argues about the count.   He doesn’t see Bill Clinton sneaking up from behind.  Bill tries to whip Trump into Hillary’s corner.  Trump reverses and goes for a big boot to the face.  But Bill ducks, boots Trump in the gut, and then hits a spinning neckbreaker.

Johnny Suave: Bill Clinton fires up the crowd and now he’s going for scoop slam!

Clinton goes to lift Trump up but he doesn’t see trouble brewing behind him.  Two women from his past.

Johnny Suave: THAT’S KATHLEEN WILLEY AND PAULA JONES!  TWO WOMEN WITH HUGE ISSUES WITH BOTH BILL AND HILLARY CLINTON!

Colleen Crowder: What are they doing in the ring?

At once, the crowd noise jumps dramatically which causes Bill to wonder what’s going on.  Finally, his innate curiosity wins out so he turns around and gets an unpleasant surprise.  His eyes widen and the crowd goes wild.

Johnny Suave: Nowhere to run!  Nowhere to hide!

Colleen Crowder: That’s not fair!  They’re interfering in the match!

Johnny Suave: Here we go!

Willey and Jones take Bill by each arm and fling him into the corner turnbuckle.  Bill ‘stumbles’ and falls forward head first into the turnbuckle.  He flips up and over the turnbuckle, tries to snag the top rope, misses, and tumbles down to the floor.

Johnny Suave: RIC FLAIR FLIP!

On the floor, Bill then gets back on his feet…takes two steps…stops…and then flops face first back to the floor.

Johnny Suave: RIC FLAIR FLOP!

Back in the ring, Hillary comes off the ropes and leaps onto Trump’s back.

Johnny Suave: SLEEPER HOLD!

Colleen Crowder: YES!  COME ON HILLARY!

Trump spins to try and dislodge Hillary from his back.  Unfortunately, he loses his balance and ends up on the mat.  Hillary wastes no time in making the cover.

One.

Two.

Johnny Suave: Trump kicks out.  He’s trying to regain his bearings and…why is the referee talking to the Clinton corner again?

This time, Romanov is having a heated conversation with Hillary’s manager Robby Mook and MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow.  While they’re distracting the referee, Chelsea Clinton slides a steel chain over to her mother who quickly wraps it around Trump’s neck.

Johnny Suave: AND NOW SHE’S GOT THAT STEEL CHAIN AROUND HIS NECK!

Colleen Crowder: Sleeper hold.

Trump’s face turns bright red as the chain is wrapped tightly and cutting off his oxygen.

Johnny Suave: BULL-*BLEEP*!  THAT’S A BLATANT CHOKE!  SHE’S TRYING TO CHOKE DONALD TRUMP OUT!

While Trump desperately tries to loosen the chain around his neck, yet another person races down the aisle towards the ring.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE?  THAT’S FOX NEWS’S CHRIS WALLACE!

Wallace jumps up on the ring apron, grabs Romanov, and spins her around.  He points at Hillary who’s still trying strangle Trump with a steel chain.

Colleen Crowder: What is he doing?  Chris Wallace has no business butting his head into this match.

Johnny Suave: And CNN’s Anderson Cooper and ABC’s Martha Raddatz didn’t do the exact same thing?

Colleen Crowder: That’s different.  Everyone knows Fox News is biased towards the American Patriots!

Romanov immediately acts.  She pushes Clinton back, breaking the choke hold.  Then Romanov literally rips the chain out of Hillary’s hands and tosses it out of the ring.

Colleen Crowder: The Russian referee is exerting too much influence on this match which means Vladimir Putin is trying to affect the results!

Johnny Suave: Um…Corrina Romanov just enforced the rules because, newsflash, even PCW has rules.

Colleen Crowder: But Vladimir Putin-

Johnny Suave: Is this another narrative or…

There’s a collective gasp inside Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: What.

Colleen turns her attention back to the ring and immediately shoots up from her chair in full righteous indignation mode.

Colleen Crowder: THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE!

Johnny Suave: TESTICULAR CLAW!  TRUMP IS USING THE TESTICULAR CLAW!

The reaction is instantaneous and the fun really begins.  An enraged Colleen Crowder literally jumps up on the broadcast table and points at Trump.

Colleen Crowder: DISQUALIFY HIM!  DISQUALIFY HIM!

The Clinton team are stunned.  Without hesitation, they all charge the ring.

The Progressive Alliance are stunned.  Disgusted.  Repulsed.  Suddenly, the likes of Chuck Schumer, Elizabeth Warren, and Nancy Pelosi charge the ring.

The media are stunned.  Revolted.  Aggrieved.   Don Lemon of CNN, the Washington Post’s Eugene Robinson and Dana Milbank, and the New York Times’s David Brooks and Paul Krugman pile into the ring.

Colleen Crowder: HE SHOULD BE DISQUALIFIED!

Even some members of the American Patriots are stunned.  Appalled.  Queasy.  John McCain, Lindsey Graham, former Jeb Bush, and Mitt Romney charge the ring and a huge scrum explodes.

Johnny Suave: IT’S HIT THE FAN NOW!

Trump finds himself swallowed up by a mass of humanity as members of each group literally throw each other out of the way to get to him.

Johnny Suave: This is just a mob scene!

Colleen Crowder: WHY HASN’T THE REFEREE DISQUALIFIED HIM?

Johnny Suave (sarcastically): Maybe Vladimir Putin told her not to.

Colleen Crowder: SEE!  I TOLD YOU!

Johnny Suave: Trump is getting no help from the American Patriots either!

Cut to Paul Ryan.  He’s whistling while he ever so subtly tries to inch away from the ring, hoping that no one can see him subtly trying to inch away from the ring.   Mitch McConnell?  He’s gone from ringside and nowhere to be found.

The rest of the establishment?  Sitting in their seats reading the Wall Street Journal or on their phones making plans for their golf getaway.

♫ Do you hear the people sing, singing a song of angry men…♫

Quick cut to the Les Miserables section.  What had been a full section of people is now half empty.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE!

‘Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan, ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay, and Charlie Blackwell stream to the ring followed by forty other people sitting in their section.

Johnny Suave: It’s the LES MISERABLES!

Colleen Crowder: I’m confused Are they coming to help Clinton?

Bryan hops up on the ring apron.  He drapes Dana Milbank’s neck over the top rope and drops to the floor causing the Washington Post columnist to whiplash off the ropes and onto his back.

Johnny Suave:  BRYAN TOSSES MILBANK OUT!

Bert the Janitor tosses McAvay a Big Bertha Driver.

Johnny Suave: MCAVAY HAS THE BIG BERTHA!

*THWACK*

Johnny Suave: DOWN GOES CHUCK SCHUMER!

*THWACK^

Johnny Suave: DOWN GOES LINDSEY GRAHAM!

Mitt Romney sees McAvay using the driver to pole axe his way through the crowd.  He wisely uses discretion and decides to slip out of the ring.

Johnny Suave: AND HERE COMES CHARLIE BLACKWELL!

Blackwell jumps into the ring wielding a steel folding chair. and starts taking people out left and right.

*CLANG*

Johnny Suave: BLACKWELL NAILS PAUL KRUGMAN WITH THE CHAIR!

Blackwell turns and swings the chair again.

*CLANG*

Johnny Suave: CNN’s DON LEMON GOES DOWN!

*CLANG*

Johnny Suave: HE GOT JEB BUSH TOO!

Colleen Crowder: WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

Johnny Suave: THEY’RE CLEANING HOUSE!

The rest of the Les Miserables climb through the ropes and suddenly there’s a lot of people in close quarters.

Colleen Crowder: DEPLORABLE!

The American Patriots, Progressive Alliance, and media contingent still in the ring decide to hastily exit stage right leaving just Trump, Hillary, McAvay, Blackwell, Bryan, and the forty-odd Les Miserables inside.

Colleen Crowder: THESE PEOPLE ARE DEPLORABLE!  WHAT ARE ALL THESE DEPLORABLE PEOPLE DOING IN THE RING?

Johnny Suave: Actually, they’re Les Miserables.

Colleen Crowder: AND WHY HASN’T THE REFEREE DISQUALIFIED TRUMP FOR THIS BLATANT OUTSIDE INTERFERENCE? THERE IS NO WAY THIS MATCH-

Blackwell and McAvay re-station themselves outside the ring and the Les Miserables surrounding the squared circle.  The ring steadily clears and when it does, leaving just Trump and Hillary inside, there’s an unpleasant realization for one side.

Johnny Suave: FIGURE FOUR LEG LOCK!

Crowder pulls at her hair.

Colleen Crowder: NOOOOOOOOOO!

In the midst of the chaos caused when the Les Miserables invaded the ring, Trump took one of Hillary’s legs, turned it 90 degrees, grabbed her other leg and crossed it with the other.  Then he put one foot in between, the other on the other leg, and bridged over to lock in the figure-four.

To make matters worse, Trump had her smack dab in the middle of the ring- a long, long way from help.

Johnny Suave: HOW ARE HER CHANCES LOOKING NOW?

Colleen remains defiant.

Colleen Crowder: Sixty-five percent, Johnny.  I’m still quite confident Hillary will win if the Russian referee would actually DO HER JOB!

The Progressive Alliance contingent charge forward but the Les Miserables protecting the ring stop them in their tracks.

Colleen Crowder: Okay…maybe fifty-five percent- COME ON!

Clinton closes her eyes and sits up.  She takes a couple swipes at Trump and then falls backwards.

Johnny Suave: Is Hillary going to tap out?

Colleen Crowder: NEVER!

Hillary reaches for the ropes but she’s too far away.

Johnny Suave: What do you say now?

Colleen Crowder: Fifty-fifty.

As the pain registers all over Clinton’s face, for the first time a realization comes over the folks sitting in the Progressive Alliance section that she could lose this.

Johnny Suave: Are you sure about that?

Colleen Crowder: (whispers incoherently)

Johnny Suave: Didn’t hear you.

Colleen Crowder: I SAID SIXTY PERCENT FOR TRUMP!  JESUS, HE COULD WIN THIS THING!

The camera pans through the Progressive Alliance section of the bar.  Jaws dropped.  Shocked expressions.  Hands on cheeks.

Johnny Suave: Do I hear seventy percent…seventy-five percent?  Going once.  Going twice.  Going-

Colleen Crowder: SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT FOR TRUMP.  (shouts to no one in particular)  COME ON!  ANYONE?  DO SOMETHING?

Over the loudspeaker, the opening notes to the Fleetwood Mac classic “Don’t Stop” began to play.

Johnny Suave: Wait a minute! I know that song.

A man dressed in a flannel shirt, holding a mocha in one hand and a Singapore cane in the other, steps out of the shadows on the second level of the bar.

Johnny Suave: And I know that guy!  HE’S BACK!

The crowd merrily sings along to the Fleetwood Mac song as the man dressed in flannel started towards the stage.

Colleen Crowder: Hold on.  Is that who I think it is?

Johnny Suave:  It is.

As the sing along continues, the man holds up his mocha, contained inside an environmentally friendly biodegradable cup of course, and chugs it down.

Johnny Suave: IT’S THE TREE HUGGIN’, MOCHA CHUGGIN,’ TOBACCO COMPANY BUGGIN,’ INSANE SINGAPORE CANE SWINGING ALPHA MALE AND EXTREME ENVIRONMENTAL HARDCORE ICON- AL GORE!

Colleen Crowder: YES!

Gore crushes the paper cup on his forehead in an alpha manly fashion.  Gore then spews the mocha out of his mouth like a geyser going off and sprays several tables in close proximity.

Colleen Crowder: Look at the expression on the Trump Team’s faces!

The camera cuts over to Kellyanne Conway and Mike Pence.  They’re not paying any attention.

Johnny Suave: Um…they’re not paying attention.

Colleen Crowder: Well…THEY SHOULD BE!

Gore moves up to the steps leading down and turns around to face the Progressive Alliance section.  He pulls out another cup of mocha and holds it high in the air.  Again, Gore chugs down the mocha, crushes the container against his forehead, and spits the mocha onto several tables.

Colleen Crowder: …if he ever gets to the ring.

Back in the ring, Referee Corrina Romanov maneuvers around, watching for any sign of a tap out.  Mook, Kaine, Bill Clinton, Chelsea Clinton, and Wasserman-Shultz, blocked from the ring by the Les Miserables watch helplessly.  Hillary falls back again and her strength wanes.

Johnny Suave: Trump is THIS close to winning!

Colleen Crowder: Son of a bitch.  Ninety percent chance for Trump to win.

Colleen shouts up at Gore.

Colleen Crowder: HURRY UP!

Gore makes it downstairs.  He stops and pulls out another cup of mocha.

Colleen Crowder: SON OF A BITCH!  AL, WOULD YOU GET TO THE RING ALREADY?

Johnny Suave: HILLARY’S RUNNING OUT OF TIME!

Again, Gore chugs down the mocha, crushes the container against his forehead…

Colleen Crowder (lamenting): He’s not going to get to the ring in time, is he?

Johnny Suave: Nope.

…and spits the mocha towards the ring just as Hillary slaps her hand on the mat.

Johnny Suave: SHE TAPPED OUT!  THAT’S IT!

Colleen Crowder: NOOOOOOOO!

Romanov calls for the bell.

Johnny Suave: TRUMP WINS!  TRUMP WINS!

Colleen Crowder: Oh…my…God.

Johnny Suave: The next CEO of PCW is Donald J. Trump!

The camera cuts to outside the ring.  Now that Trump’s won and it’s ‘safe,’ Paul Ryan is slowly edging his way back towards the action.

Johnny Suave: And the conservative chickens have come home to roost!

Mitch McConnell races by Ryan, actually he knocks Ryan out of his way, cheering and pumping his fist in the air.  However, others sitting with the rest of the American Patriot supporters aren’t so sure about what just took place.

The Les Miserables at ringside have no inhibition about celebrating.  Blackwell, Bryan, and McAvay find themselves in the midst of a big time party.

Panning back to the Progressive Alliance section- soul-crushing sadness among Hillary’s supporters is the prevalent feeling.

The majority of the people on hand begin to sing: “Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye” and wave goodbye to the Hollywood celebs who said they would leave the country if Trump won.

Johnny Suave: After everything that’s happened over the past few months and with the entire Washington D.C. beltway establishment lined up against him- the Republican establishment, the Democrat establishment, the militantly left wing Democrats- who seem to have all gathered in California, and the mainstream media, when the chips were down Donald Trump came through on PCW’s biggest stage.

Colleen Crowder: I think I’m going to be sick.

Johnny Suave: Is that the narrative or an actual story?

Colleen Crowder: Shut up!

Johnny Suave: Let’s go up to Kimber Marshall in the ring for the official announcement.

Kimber Marshall: Your winner at twenty four minutes, forty-three seconds…and the NEW CEO of POLITICAL CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING!

In his corner, Trump raises his arms in the air.  Kellyanne Conway and Mike Pence shake hands and exchange celebratory hugs.

Kimber Marshall: DONALD J. TRUMP-

No sooner than Marshall finished saying Trump, a woman in purple dress jumps into the ring and knocks down the PCW ring announcer.  She grabs the microphone from Marshall.  Her face beet red, clearly infuriated at the result, she points down at Kimber on the deck.

Woman in Ring: YOU SOLD OUT POLITICAL CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING!

Kimber just gives her a ‘WTF’ glance.  The woman then turns to the American Patriots at ringside and delivers more of her venom.

Woman in Ring: YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE IN POLITICAL CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING!

She points at Trump.

Woman in Ring: THIS IS MY PCW!

She points at herself and screeches.

Woman in Ring: DO YOU HEAR ME?  THIS IS MY PCW!

Then she throws herself on the mat and begins to kick her feet and flail her arms wildly.

Johnny Suave: Great.  Is she going to hold her breath next?

Then she holds her breath as she kicks and flails away.  Her face quickly turns red.

Johnny Suave: Really?  Hopefully we can get security out here to restore some order.

PCW Security comes to the ring to escort the woman out.  But before she can be taken away, another commotion flares out inside Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon.

Johnny Suave: HERE COMES HOLLYWOOD OSCAR WINNING SCREENWRITER AARON SORKIN AND HE LOOKS PISSED!

Aaron Sorkin: WAIT A MINUTE!  HOLD ON, ONE SECOND!

Sorkin, noted liberal activist, flies down to ringside and grabs a microphone from a ringside technician.

Aaron Sorkin: I wrote this letter to my daughter.

Sorkin pulls out a sheet of paper and begins to read.

Aaron Sorkin: I’m not going to sugarcoat this- this is truly horrible…

Progressive Alliance fans agree with Sorkin’s sentiment.  Supporters of the American Patriots?  Not so much.

Aaron Sorkin: …it’s hardly the first time my candidate didn’t win…in fact it’s the sixth time…but it is the first time that a thoroughly incompetent pig with dangerous ideas, a serious psychiatric disorder, no knowledge of the world and no curiosity to learn has.

Again, the agreement to Mr. Sorkin’s views are sharply split according to one’s political preference.

Aaron Sorkin: And it wasn’t just Donald Trump who won tonight—it was his supporters too. The Klan won last night. White nationalists. Sexists, racists and buffoons.

This gets the attention of Blackwell, McAvay, and Bryan.  All three turn and wonder if Sorkin is really talking about them.

He is.

Aaron Sorkin: That’s right.  Angry young white men who think rap music and Cinco de Mayo are a threat to their way of life or are the reason for their way of life have been given cause to celebrate. Men who have no right to call themselves that and who think that women who aspire to more than looking hot are shrill, ugly, and otherwise worthy of our scorn rather than our admiration struck a blow for misogynistic shitheads everywhere…

Johnny Suave: Really? He’s slagging not just the Les Miserables but an entire class of people simply because they didn’t support his candidate AND couching it as a ‘heartfelt letter’ to his daughter?  You’ve got to be kidding me!

Colleen Crowder: He’s speaking to truth, Johnny.  Everything he’s saying is true.

Aaron Sorkin: …hate was given hope. Abject dumbness was glamorized as being “the fresh voice of an outsider” who’s going to shake things-

**Def Leppard’s ‘Tear It Down’ begins to play**

Hack’s explodes.  Sorkin stops and watches as the Extreme Equalizer bolts down the aisle towards ringside.

Johnny Suave: WE’RE ABOUT TO FIND OUT WHAT THE EXTREME EQUALIZER THINKS ABOUT ALL THIS.  IT’S WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT!

Tear it down – There’s got to be a better way Tear it down – I can’t wait another day Tear it down – There’s got to be a better way Tear it down – If only you could stay All night long

Colleen Crowder: Don’t do it!

Sorkin defiantly stands his ground and doesn’t attempt to escape.  The Extreme Equalizer launches himself at him with his right arm outstretched.

Johnny Suave: CLOTHESLINE AND DOWN GOES SORKIN!

McAvay and Bryan set up a table.  WTF then pulls Sorkin up and drags him over.

Colleen Crowder: DON’T DO IT!

Lifted in the air by the throat, Sorkin is then driven through the table by Whiskey Tango Foxtrot with such force that the table snaps in two cleanly upon impact.

A crowd chant erupts: “PCW!  PCW!  PCW!”

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!  THE EXTREME EQUALIZER JUST CHOKESLAMMED AARON SORKIN THROUGH THE TABLE!

WTF admires his handiwork until more people come flying out from the back.

*“WITH TALENT ON LOAN FROM GOD!”*

Over half of the crowd immediately boos as ‘The Innovator of Extreme Broadcast Excellence’ Rush Limbaugh smugly appears.  Limbaugh’s ‘Dittoheads’ stand up and cheer when Limbaugh walks towards ringside and openly laughs at Sorkin- who’s lying in the ruins of a table.

Johnny Suave: Well, here we go.  You know Limbaugh is eating up everything that’s gone down here tonight.

Crowd chant: “OX-Y CONT-TIN! (clap clap clap-clap-clap) OX-Y CONT-TIN! (clap clap clap-clap-clap)…”

Rush Limbaugh: “That’s right. It is I…”

Crowd: “WHO?”

Rush Limbaugh: “…El Rushbo…”

Crowd: “WHO?”

Rush Limbaugh: “…The Maharushbie…”

Crowd: “WHO?”

Rush Limbaugh: “…With talent on loan from-”

Crowd: “ROB!”

Limbaugh pauses.

Rush Limbaugh: “No.”

Crowd: “BOB!”

Rush Limbaugh: “No!”

Crowd: “MOM!”

Rush Limbaugh: SHUT UP! IT’S GOD YOU IDIOTS…GOD, GOD, GOD! *clears throat* Now, as I was saying in a manner that only I, with my years of broadcast excellence, can say.  It’s clear here that the Progressive Alliance and the drive by media are going to do everything possible to delegitimize Donald Trump’s win here tonight.  The liberals will fight tooth and nail against Trump because their candidate didn’t win.

Suddenly, the video screen fires up and we take a trip back in time to 2009, one week after PCW CEO Barack Obama was sworn in…

(FILM CLIP- PCW EXTREME POLITICAL TV- January 27th, 2009) *“WITH TALENT ON LOAN FROM GOD!”*

The crowd immediately boos as ‘The Innovator of Extreme Broadcast Excellence’ Rush Limbaugh and the “Queen of Political Extreme” Ann Coulter appear in the spotlight and both begin to walk towards the ring.

Suave: Well, this is not a surprise. Limbaugh has been sparring publicly with the new PCW CEO Barack Obama in the news the last week. And I know Ann Coulter is never for a loss of words.

Crowd: “OX-Y CONT-TIN! (clap clap clap-clap-clap) OX-Y CONT-TIN! (clap clap clap-clap-clap)…

Limbaugh joins Suave in the ring…

Suave: What can I do for you, Mr. Limbaugh?

Rush: We’re both here tonight to say…we told you so. That’s right. It’s taken less than a week for the new PCW CEO Barack Hussein Obama to show his true colors. I don’t care what anybody else thinks. I…WANT…OBAMA…TO…FAIL. Period. I hope he fails.

Suave: Welllllllllll?

Limbaugh smiles ackwardly and tries to back up.

Rush Limbaugh: Now hold on here, that was different…um…I-  *ack*

Limbaugh suddenly finds himself in the clutches of one Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.   Hand on his throat, WTF lifts him into the air and then slams him to the floor.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!  HE JUST CHOKESLAMMED RUSH LIMBAUGH!

The Hack’s Rusty Nail Saloon fans react with another loud chant in unison: “PCW!  PCW!  PCW!”

Johnny Suave: What goes around, comes around.

Colleen Crowder: I’d say he definitely deserved that.

Another roar from the crowd. Yet again, another run-in.

Johnny Suave: Now what?

Suave searches and sees the bespectacled man headed towards the ring and realizes who he is.

Johnny Suave: Awww.  Not him.

‘Him’ is former MSNBC and Current TV commentator and current host of GQ’s political webshow ‘The Resistance with Keith Olbermann’- Keith Olbermann.  And Keith has a megaphone.  He runs up to where Limbaugh is splayed out on the floor and points the megaphone down at him.

Keith Olbermann: I WILL LEAD THE RESISTANCE!  I AM THE RESISTANCE… I AM *ack*

WTF rolls his eyes and in one swift movement grabs Olbermann by the throat…lifts him up and chokeslams to the floor right next to Limbaugh.

Colleen Crowder: WHAT IS HE DOING?

The “PCW!  PCW!  PCW!” chant now echoes all over the bar.

***

Cut back to Johnny Suave live at the broadcast table…

Johnny Suave: And with that, Donald Trump became the CEO of PCW for the next four years.

“How Dare You” with 9-year-old Eva McAvay The camera zooms in on a miniature wrestling ring set up in the center of the PCW studio. A small figure stands in the middle, her blonde pigtails bouncing as she adjusts the microphone in her hand. It’s Eva McAvay, Dawn McGill’s 9-year-old daughter, her face set in a determined scowl that seems out of place on her cherubic features.

Eva McAvay: How dare you?

Eva’s voice booms through the arena, her tiny frame shaking with passion. She points her finger dramatically at the camera and startles even Johnny Suave, who takes a step back from the tiny titan.

Eva McAvay: Tearing your family apart because of some stupid political beliefs? That’s not what Thanksgiving and Christmas are about!

She slams her fist into her other hand.

Eva McAvay: It’s about love and togetherness, people! Can’t you see that? Jeez, just grow the *BLEEP* up-

Her eyes blaze with righteous anger. But before she can continue, Dawn McGill’s voice cuts in sharply.

Dawn McGill (offscreen): EVA!

With a sheepish glance at her mother, Eva lowers her head.

Eva McAvay: Sorry, Mom.

Cut back to Johnny Suave…

Johnny Suave: All right.  Hopefully, everyone had a very Happy Thanksgiving.  Next up…  we’re going to replay the 2020 CEO of PCW match featuring Donald Trump and Joe Biden.  Let’s run the tape now.

***

The 2020 Battle for PCW CEO-: ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott w/PCW CEO Donald Trump, Aide de Camp Mike Pence (American Patriots) vs. ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels w/PCW CEO candidate Joe Biden, Aide de Camp candidate Kamala Harris (Progressive Alliance) Kimber Marshall stands in the middle of the ring.

Kimber Marshall: “Ladies and gentlemen, this match will be…”

Crowd: ONE fall!

Kimber Marshall: “And it will be for the PCW Title!  Introducing first…

*”Glory Days”-Bruce Springsteen*

Johnny Suave: “Ah.  Bruce Springsteen.  Another one of the many celebs who’ve promised to move out of the US if Trump wins.”

Colleen Crowder: “Don’t you bad mouth ‘The Boss.’  Springsteen speaks the truth.”

Joe Biden comes out with his wife Dr. Jill Biden (and don’t you forget the ‘Dr.’ part).  Behind him is his choice for Aide de Camp Kamala Harris.

Then Marshall announces the Progressive Alliance wrestler taking part in the match.

‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels HT: 6′ 0″ WT: 200 / HOME: Hollywood, CA FIN: The True Hollywood Blockbuster

Daniels comes out and shakes hands with both Bidens and Kamala Harris.

Kimber Marshall: “And their opponent…

*”Imperial March”- Star Wars*

The supporters “TRUMP!  TRUMP! TRUMP!” chant merges with the melody of the Imperial March and becomes:

“TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP.

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP

TRUMP-TRUMP-TRUMMMMP”

Dressed in all black complete with a flowing black cape, Donald Trump and his spokesperson Kayleigh McEnaney walk out on stage to a big ovation from the American Patriots.

Kimber Marshall: Residing in the Trump Tower in the great city of New York, New York!  He promises to…

The Trump supporters shout out: “MAKE PCW GREAT AGAIN!”

Kimber Marshall: Accompanied by his Aide de Camp Mike Pence and representing the American Patriots!  LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!  THE CURRENT CEO OF PCW- DONALD J. TRUMP!

Again, the Trump supporters let loose with thunderous roar that shakes the building.  Trump nods and acknowledges the fans.

Johnny Suave: “Here he is.  The current CEO of PCW.  Donald Trump.”

Colleen Crowder: “Ugh.  And he’s being led to the ring by… her.”

Johnny Suave: “You’re just saying that because Kayleigh McEnaney won’t play the ‘game’ the way you want her to play.”

McEnaney leads the way as Trump, black robe ruffling behind him as he strides, makes his way down the steps from the stage toward the ring followed by Mike Pence and Pence’s wife Karen.

Marshall then announces the American Patriots’s wrestler.

‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 250, HOME: Ottumwa, IA FIN: American Stars and Fujiawa Arm Bar

Scott walks out on stage and shakes hands with Trump, Pence, Mrs. Pence.  Then the entourage heads towards the ring.

Johnny Suave: “So here we are.  This is for the PCW title and then we will find out who will be the PCW CEO for the next four years.”

Colleen Crowder: “We already know the answer.  It’s going to be Joe Biden.”

Biden shouts encouragement to Kevin Daniels- but he’s facing the wrong way.  Harris subtly turns him around towards the ring.

Before the match starts, Suave and Crowder are joined by special guests- the CEOs of Twitter and Facebook Jack Dorsey and Mark Zuckerberg.

The bell sounds and the match begins.

Scott rushes forward.  Daniels side-steps him.  The two men circle.  Scott aggressively comes forward.  Daniels plays defense and makes him chase.   Daniels connects with a spin kick that gives Scott some pause.  Quick lock up – Scott takes a headlock – Daniels slips out.  Scott fires off right and left hands. He follows with a standing spinebuster.  Hooks the leg – one – two – Daniels kicks out and calls a ‘time-out.’  He rolls outside the ring and confers with Biden and Harris.

Johnny Suave: “Kevin Scott off to a fast start here causing Mr. Hollywood to bail out of the ring.”

Jack Dorsey: “Actually Johnny, before you share this content, you might want to know that fact-checking sites, Snope.com, and other media sources have disputed the accuracy of it.”

Colleen Crowder: “Yeah!  Kevin Daniels is probably just getting warmed up and wanted to talk strategy with Joe Biden.”

Once back in, Daniels and Scott tie up – Scott gains control.  He wrenches, hammerlocks, and throws forearms into Daniels’s back.  Headlock by Scott and hits the takeover.  Scott tries to grind Daniels down.   Daniels fights up and around but Scott wrenches the arm again.  Scott takes a wristlock.  Daniels throws a couple body shots.  Surprise roll into a REAR NAKED CHOKE!  Scott elbows out.   Daniels with a drop toehold and gets the legs to hook them.  One – Scott powers out.  Scott goes for a rear bear hug – Daniels fights his way out with elbows.  Daniels backdrops Scott to the mat.  Scott up – Daniels legsweeps him back down.  Cover.  One – two – no.  Scott powers out.

Johnny Suave: “Better from Kevin Daniels there.  He seems to be coming into the match.”

Colleen Crowder: “Johnny, I don’t know what match you’ve been watching but it’s clear Daniels is totally dominating the match.”

Johnny Suave: “That’s debatable.”

Mark Zuckerberg: “Actually Johnny, we’ll allow it.  It’s a factual statement.”

Johnny Suave: “Of course you will.”

Scott nails Daniels with a kick to the jaw.  Cover.  One – two – 2.5 – Daniels just kicks out before the three count.  Scott boots Daniels in the gut.  Daniels drops to a knee – Scott drags him right back up.  He goes to whip Daniels – Daniels reverses and knees Scott low and hard!  Daniels hits the ropes and Scott ducks under.  Another boot to the gut and a Sling Blade takes Daniels down.  Cover.  One – Two – NO! Daniels just gets the shoulder up.

Johnny Suave: “Another close pinfall for Kevin Scott.  He is really doing well here tonight.”

Jack Dorsey: “Again Johnny, before you share something like that, you should know that independent fact checkers dispute its accuracy.”

Johnny Suave: “It’s an opinion Jack that I’m entitled to based on what I’ve witnessed here during the match.”

Mark Zuckerberg: “Once again, what you said is disputed by third party fact checkers.”

Johnny Suave: “*BLEEP* your third-party fact checkers.”

Daniels grows a little frustrated.  He goes to the referee and starts to berate him.  This allows Kamala Harris to sneak into the ring with a steel-folding chair.  She raises it up – Mike Pence runs in- followed by his wife Karen (Pence never eats alone with a woman other than his wife and won’t attend events featuring alcohol without her by his side).  Mike grabs the chair and stops Harris – the chair falls and accidently lands on Harris’s foot.

Colleen Crowder: “MIKE PENCE DID THAT ON PURPOSE!”

Johnny Suave: “Harris was going to hit ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott with that chair.”

Jack Dorsey: “Er.  Independent fact-checkers say that statement contains false information-“

Suave turns off Zuckerberg and Dorsey’s microphone.

Crowder goes ballistic and demands Suave turn their microphones back on.

Johnny Suave: “I guess it really does suck when you get censored, huh.”

Pence apologizes to Harris for the incident.

Harris kicks him in the groin.

Johnny Suave: “Ooooh.  Apology not accepted.  And Kamala Harris did that on purpose.”

Colleen Crowder: “She did not!  She……….um, slipped.”

Karen Pence then tackles Harris in the ring and both women roll around on the mat.

Johnny Suave: “CAT-FIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!  CAT-FIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

Colleen Crowder: “Okay.  That was totally offensive, Johnny.”

Meanwhile, Daniels runs the ropes – Scott ducks a clothesline and waits for him to come back to clock Daniels with a right hand.  Scott blocks a suplex attempt using the power of gravity. Daniels walks into a body slam.  Scott covers.  One – two – 2.999!  Daniels just gets a shoulder off the mat.  Scott CLOBBERS Daniels with a right hand.  Cover.  One – two – THR-THE REFEREE GETS PULLED OUT OF THE RING!

Johnny Suave: “WHAT THE HELL?”

All three members of the Guild of Low Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves Colleen Crowder- New York Times, Sharon Johns- CNN, and Dan Miller- Washington Post yank the referee out of the ring.

All hell breaks loose.  The media climb into the ring while another referee appears and rolls in under the ropes.

Scott’s trying to figure out what’s going on.  Daniels just gets back to his feet and even he’s wondering what’s happening.

The referee calls for the bell.  He goes to ring announcer Kimber Marshall and tells her what his decision is.

Marshall climbs into the ring and makes the announcement.

WINNER AND NEW PCW MEN’S CHAMPION: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) @ 10:48

Johnny Suave: “WHAT?”

A huge celebration erupts in the ring as Arizona Secretary of State Katie Hobbs, Pennsylvania State Attorney General Josh Shapiro, Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer, Michigan Secretary of State Jocelyn Benson, and former Georgia Gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams join Daniels, the Bidens, Harris, Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer, and the Guild of Low Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves (Crowder-NY Times, Johns-CNN, and Miller-Washington Post).

Outside the ring and around the bar- not so much.  The PCW fans are shocked.  Kevin Scott is stunned at the decision.  Trump is furious and tries to corral the referee but the ref is in the middle of the Progressive Alliance party going on in the ring.

Johnny Suave: “Kevin Daniels has been named the new PCW champion even though he did not pin ‘Starz N. Stripes’ Kevin Scott.”

If the PCW fans didn’t like the Daniels decision, they definitely didn’t like what happened next…

THE DECISION.  TRUMP OR BIDEN? The Coke Brothers (Charles and David), George Moros, Lincoln Project Executive Director Sarah Lenti slowly make their way down to the ring.

Johnny Suave: “HOLY CRAP!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Johnny Suave: “The fans have already connected the dots on this one.  Dawn McGill- missing.  The DC Establishment is here.”

The Cokes, Moros, and Lenti have to duck and dodge debris.

Biden stands in front of the big group that’s gathered inside the ring for the announcement.   Donald Trump stands on the outside.

The four climb into the ring.  Moros has a microphone and he doesn’t waste any time.

George Moros: “Joe Biden-“

The Progressive Alliance explode with joy inside the ring.

Johnny Suave: “THAT’S IT!  JOE BIDEN HAS BEEN SELECTED TO BECOME THE NEW CEO OF POLITICAL CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Biden looks towards Trump for the traditional post-match handshake- but Trump has already left ringside and headed towards the back.

Johnny Suave: “NO HANDSHAKE.  TRUMP’S GOING TO THE BACK.”

***

Cut back to Johnny Suave live at the broadcast desk…

Johnny Suave: So, thus began Joe Biden’s four year run as CEO of PCW.  Now… Eva McAvay is back with more.  Let’s hear what she has to say.

“How Dare You!” with 9-year-old Eva McAvay Eva’s eyes narrow as she launches into her tirade.

Eva McAvay: How dare you… Washington fat cats think you can push us around? Well, not on my watch!”

She paces back and forth, her sneakers squeaking with each step.

Eva McAvay: You locked up patriots for J6 like they were hardened criminals! Misdemeanors became life sentences faster than The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior can say ‘check your privilege’!

Eva’s voice cracks with emotion, her little fists clenching.

She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving with righteous indignation.

Eva McAvay: And don’t get me started on how you used COVID to stomp all over our rights! You forced medicine down our throats like we’re your personal lab rats!

Eva’s face turns red as she builds to her climax.

Eva McAvay: The Department of Justice? More like the Department of Just-Us, am I right?

She pauses, waiting for a reaction, but the stunned silence only fuels her further.

Eva takes another deep breath, her tiny frame shaking with emotion.

Eva McAvay: You think you can take our guns? Well, the ATF can pry them from my cold, dead Barbie hands!

She stomps her foot, the impact echoing through the studio.

Eva McAvay: And don’t even get me started on the border! You’ve turned our great nation into a turnstile for criminals and drug dealers!

Eva’s voice rises to a fever pitch as she delivers her final blows.

Eva McAvay: You’ve bankrupted our country with your handouts and destroyed our energy sector for your tree-hugging fantasies!  HOW…DARE… YOU!

Cut back to Johnny Suave…

Johnny Suave: Little Eva McAvay is on fire tonight.

***

Update on the California Vote Counting The studio lights flicker as Johnny Suave clears his throat, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Johnny Suave: And now, folks, we have a special treat for you. Let’s check in on the hardworking vote counters in California, still at it nearly a month after the election.

The screen behind him flickers to life, revealing a dimly lit room. A solitary sloth hangs from a chair, its claws moving in slow motion towards a stack of ballots. The creature blinks languidly, taking an eternity to pick up a single piece of paper.

Johnny Suave: Ahhh.  That explains it.

***

The Legacy Media Strikes Back The ring is awash in a sea of microphones and notepads, as four figures stand poised like prizefighters ready for battle. But these aren’t your typical wrestlers – they’re the Guild of Low-Level Media People Trying to Make a Name for Themselves.

Colleen Crowder adjusts her stylish glasses, her auburn hair glinting under the harsh lights, and her voice brimming with the smooth confidence of a seasoned, low-level New York Times reporter with higher aspirations.

Colleen Crowder: Ladies and gentlemen, we’re here to address a grave threat to our profession and our relevancy. Joe Rogan is single-handedly dismantling the legacy media!

Sharon Johns- a low-level Washington Post reporter trying to make a name for herself- nods vigorously, her ponytail bouncing with each movement.

Sharon Johns: That’s right, Colleen. We can’t let some podcast jockey with a penchant for DMT take our place!”

Johnny Suave comments from the broadcast table.

Johnny Suave: Oh boy, folks! Looks like we’ve got a real media showdown brewing!

Colleen’s green eyes narrow as she scans the crowd.

Colleen Crowder: You people need to understand the gravity of the situation. We’re the gatekeepers of truth, damn it! But fear not, for we have a champion in our corner. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the co-founder and CEO of Axios, Jim Vandehei!

As Vandehei strides toward the ring, Johnny Suave can’t help but make a quip.

Johnny Suave: Well, well! If it isn’t the man who turned long-form journalism into bite-sized chunks!

Vandehei grabs a microphone, his face flushed with emotion.

Jim Vandehei: I hate this damn debate about not needing the media. It’s bull*BLEEP*!

Vandehei barrels on.

Jim Vandehei: It’s about sitting in a war zone, telling people what’s actually happening, not just looking at distortion. That matters, damn it!

Vandehei’s eyes blaze with intensity as he continues his impassioned speech.

Jim Vandehei: It matters profoundly! We don’t love getting up at 3:00, 4:00 in the morning every single day for kicks. We do it because it matters!

Johnny Suave chuckles.

Johnny Suave: Sounds like someone needs to invest in a good alarm clock.

Vandehei plows on, his voice rising.

Jim Vandehei: Everything we do is under fire. Elon Musk sits on Twitter – or X, whatever – every day saying, ‘We are the media, you are the media.’ Well, my message to Elon Musk is: Bull*BLEEP*!

The crowd collectively gasps at the expletive, some cheering, others booing.

Jim Vandehei: You’re not the media!

Vandehei gesticulates wildly.

Jim Vandehei: Having a blue check mark, a Twitter handle, and 300 words of cleverness doesn’t make you a reporter!

Vandehei, now red-faced and sweating, barrels on.

Jim Vandehei: It’s no more legitimate than me looking at your head, seeing you have a brain, and declaring myself a damn neurosurgeon!

Vandehei’s face is beet red, veins bulging in his neck as he paces the ring like a caged animal. He grips the microphone so tightly his knuckles are white.

Jim Vandehei: Being a reporter’s hard. Really hard. You have to care.

Johnny Suave: Unlike caring about your blood pressure, apparently.

Jim Vandehei: You have to do the hard work. You have to get up every single day and say I want to get to the closest approximation of the truth without any fear, without any favoritism.

As Vandehei rants, Suave thinks to himself, “This guy’s about two seconds away from spontaneously combusting. I wonder if PCW’s insurance covers ‘death by righteous indignation’?”

Vandehei’s pacing intensifies, his gestures becoming more wild with each word.

Jim Vandehei: You don’t do that by popping off on Twitter. You don’t do that by having an opinion. You do it by doing the hard work.

Johnny Suave: But yet, that’s what many in the legacy media did. And that’s why their reputations and the public’s perception of the legacy media is so bad. Speaking of new media… Eva McAvay is back again with another edition of “How Dare You?”

Jim Vandehei: Hey-

PCW cuts away to the cute 9-year-old girl.

***

“How Dare You?” with 9-year-old Eva McAvay Eva’s eyes narrow, her gaze fixating on an imaginary Kamala Harris.

Eva McAvay: And how dare you, Ms. Vice President.  How dare you spend a billion dollars on your campaign and still end up owing twenty million? That’s like buying a Happy Meal and somehow owing McDonald’s your college fund!

The studio audience gasps, a mix of shock and awe rippling through the crowd.

Eva McAvay: If you can’t even balance your campaign checkbook, how in the world do you expect to handle our national piggy bank?

Eva’s tiny fists clench at her sides.

Eva McAvay: You’d probably try to pay off the national debt with Monopoly money!

Eva takes a dramatic pause, her chest heaving with righteous indignation.

Eva McAvay: How. Dare. You!

Each word is punctuated with a stomp of her light-up sneakers.

Suddenly, a tall figure emerges from the shadows of the studio.

Familiar Voice: Hey there, little warrior.

Eva whirls around, her eyes widening in recognition.

Eva McAvay: Y-you’re Elon Musk!

Elon nods, a bemused smile playing on his lips.

Elon Musk: That’s right. And I wanted to tell you, it’s going to be okay.

Eva’s jaw drops.

Elon Musk: We’re going to try and fix it.

Eva McAvay: I… I…

Her eyes roll back in her head and she crumples to the floor in a dead faint.

*THUNK*

Dawn rushes out.

Dawn McGill: Eva?

Elon Musk: It’s okay. It happens all the time.

Johnny Suave: Well, that’s one way to end a segment.  Thank you Eva.  Let’s go to our final match tonight… this year’s PCW CEO Match between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris.

***

MAIN EVENT-2024 PCW CEO MATCH: Donald Trump w/J.D. Vance (American Patriots) vs. Kamala Harris w/Tim Walz (Progressive Alliance) Suddenly, the familiar brassy strains of the Imperial March fill the air, melding into a thunderous chant that shakes the very foundations of the arena.

TRUMP! TRUMP! TRUMP!

The crowd’s fervor reaches a fever pitch as Donald Trump emerges, bathed in a sea of red light. Kid Rock’s “American Rock and Roll” blasts through the speakers, and Trump raises his arms triumphantly, soaking in the adulation.

Suave’s voice rises above the din.

Johnny Suave: There he is! The man who promises to make PCW great again!

Crowder interjects, her tone skeptical.

Colleen Crowder: Or plunge it into chaos, depending on your perspective.

Trump struts down the ramp, his signature red tie flapping as he gestures to the crowd. J.D. Vance appears at his side, pumping his fist in solidarity.

As they near the ring, the music fades, replaced by Beyoncé’s “Freedom.” The crowd’s reaction splits, boos and cheers mingling in a cacophony of political division.

Oprah Winfrey steps out on stage… her voice booms through the arena.

Oprah Winfrey: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… KAMALA HAR-RIS!

Harris emerges with Tim Walz, her stride purposeful, her eyes locked on the ring where Trump awaits. As she rolls under the bottom rope, their gazes meet, the air between them crackling with tension.

Johnny Suave: This is it, folks. The future of PCW – and perhaps America itself – will be decided tonight in this very ring.

Crowder nods gravely.

Colleen Crowder: Two ideologies, two visions for the future, about to collide in spectacular fashion. Let’s just hope the right vision prevails tonight.

As Harris and Trump circle each other, the crowd’s chants grow louder, a nation divided echoed in the voice of the PCW faithful.

Johnny Suave: Your referee will be Davey Keels.   Hang on tight… we are in for a wild ride tonight.  Trump versus Harris.  The winner becomes the new CEO of PCW.

The bell rings, echoing through the arena as Trump and Harris lock up in the center of the ring. The crowd’s roar is deafening, a cacophony of cheers and boos battling for dominance.

Harris strikes first, her leg whipping out in a low kick that catches Trump off guard. She follows up with a swift enziguri, her foot connecting with Trump’s temple. The former president stumbles, and Harris pounces for the cover.

“One!” Davey Keels’ hand slaps the mat, but Trump kicks out with force.

Johnny Suave: Harris coming out hot! But Trump’s not going down that easy!

Trump, shaking off the cobwebs, grabs Harris and attempts to fling her into the ropes. But Harris, ever the politician, reverses the momentum. Trump, caught off-guard, grabs the ropes to steady himself.

Colleen Crowder: Slick move by Harris! She’s not letting Trump dictate the pace!  She can do this.

Trump, his face a mask of determination, trips Harris as she rebounds off the ropes. She hits the mat hard, and Trump capitalizes with a brutal basement uppercut.

Johnny Suave: Oh! Trump with that patented ‘low blow’ we’ve seen so often in his political career! .

The crowd is on its feet as Trump follows up with a sliding lariat, his arm clotheslining Harris with devastating impact. He goes for the cover, and Keels’ hand comes down again.

“One! Two!” But Harris kicks out at the last second.

Trump, frustration evident on his face, grabs Harris and bodily throws her through the ropes. The fans closest to the action scatter as Harris crashes to the floor.

Johnny Suave: Trump taking this fight outside the ring!

Colleen Crowder: Just like he takes everything outside the norms of politics!

As Trump follows Harris to the outside, she scrambles for a weapon. Her hand finds a steel chair, and she swings with all her might.

CLANG!

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The sound reverberates through the arena as the chair connects with Trump’s head. He goes down hard, and Harris seizes control.

Johnny Suave: Harris is dismantling Trump!

For the next five minutes, Harris dominates, utilizing the chair and every dirty trick in the book. She goes for multiple covers, but Trump’s resilience shines through.

Colleen Crowder: Trump kicks out at one!

Crowder sounds almost disappointed.

Colleen Crowder: You’ve got to wonder where he’s getting this strength from!  Come on Kamala!

Harris, growing desperate, attempts to pillmanize Trump’s knee with the chair. But in a move that shocks everyone, Trump no-sells the attack, popping up as if nothing happened.

Johnny Suave: Unbelievable! Trump just shrugged off what should have been a devastating move! Is he even human?

As they make their way back to the ring, Harris tries to climb in first. But Trump, seizing the opportunity, grabs her and slams her hard to the floor.

Johnny Suave: Oh! Trump gives her a taste of her own medicine!”

Crowder winces.

Colleen Crowder: This match is far from over, Johnny.  At least, that’s the narrative we’re reporting.

The ring creaks under the weight of the combatants as Trump and Harris circle each other, a wooden table now situated ominously in the corner. Walz and Vance, like opposing cornermen in a boxing match, toss chairs into the ring, the metallic clang echoing through the arena.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, this is turning into a hardware store! We’ve got tables, we’ve got chairs – what’s next, a kitchen sink?

Trump lunges forward, grabbing Harris in a headlock. She counters, twisting out and shoving him towards the ropes. As Trump rebounds, Harris ducks, aiming for a backdrop. But Trump leapfrogs over her, landing with surprising agility for a man his age.

Johnny Suave: Did you see that, Colleen? Trump’s moving like a man half his age!

Colleen Crowder: Whatever John-

Colleen Crowder’s reply is cut short as a commotion erupts at ringside. Neal Conn…

Johnny Suave: Here comes Neal Conn… making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order.  I’m supposed to say that whenever I say his name.

…and Hallie Burton…

Johnny Suave: Hallie Burton- protector of the military-industrial complex… yes… I’m supposed to say that too.

Conn and Burton along with a group of well-dressed individuals storm the ring, led by a figure that looks like Darth Vader crossed with Dick Cheney.

Johnny Suave: I wondered when they’d be making their appearance.  It’s the Never Trumper group Conservative, Inc. and is that… Darth Dick Cheney?

The group swarms the ring.  But then…

Johnny Suave: IT’S THE AMERICAN HEARTLAND COALITION!

‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay, PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell, ‘The Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan, and the ‘Alaskan Rogue’ Sierra Whalen hop the rail and tackle Conn and Burton.

Johnny Suave: The AHC are taking care of Conservative Inc.  but the Never Trumpers are at ringside now!

Bill Kristol and Charlie Sykes pulling Trump’s legs out from under him. Jonah Goldberg and David French follow up with chair shots to Trump’s back.

Harris retreats to a corner, a smirk playing on her lips as she watches the chaos unfold.

Johnny Suave: This is a travesty! Where’s the referee? Where’s security?

As if in answer, the crowd pops when a new group charges down the ramp. Elon Musk leads the charge, followed closely by Vivek Ramaswamy and Bobby Kennedy Jr.

Johnny Suave: The anti-establishment squad is here!

Musk slides into the ring, immediately tackling David Brooks. Ramaswamy goes after Mitt Romney, while RFK Jr. grapples with George Conway.

The ring becomes a sea of flailing limbs and flying chairs. Tulsi Gabbard grabs the Washington Post’s so-called ‘conservative’ columnist Jennifer Rubin by the hair, tossing her over the top rope.

Johnny Suave: Jen Rubin… who called for newspaper writers to quit the LA Times and USA Today because they wouldn’t endorse Kamala Harris… but didn’t offer to quit the Washington Post… gets thrown out of the ring.

Trump, finally free from the pile-on, stumbles to his feet. He locks eyes with Darth Dick Cheney, who’s advancing menacingly.

Johnny Suave: Here we go. Time to drain the swamp.

Trump grabs a nearby chair.

Colleen Crowder: I’m a little conflicted on this.  Yes, Cheney throwing his support to Harris is good.  But Dick Cheney?  Ehhh…

As Cheney reaches for him, Trump swings the chair with all his might, connecting with a resounding clang that seems to shake the very foundations of the arena.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! Down goes Cheney!

Nicole Shanahan tosses Liz Cheney through the ropes.

Johnny Suave: And there goes Liz.  Wait… there’s a commotion.  Now what?

The arena erupts as a new wave of chaos descends upon the ring. A swarm of suits and microphones floods down the ramp.

Johnny Suave: The legacy media has arrived! ABC, CBS, NBC, PBS, NPR, CNN, MSNBC – they’re all here!

Colleen Crowder leans forward, her eyes gleaming.

Colleen Crowder: Finally, some real journalists to set the record straight!

The legacy media crew circles the ring like sharks, but J.D. Vance is ready. He clotheslines an MSNBC anchor over the top rope, then hip-tosses a CNN correspondent out of the ring.

Colleen becomes alarmed.

Colleen Crowder: What is he doing?

Johnny Suave: Vance is cleaning house!” Suave shouts. “These media folks are about as welcome as fact-checkers at a campaign rally!”

Vivek Ramaswamy joins the fray, suplexing a CBS reporter onto a conveniently placed table.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Suddenly, the crowd erupts and Suave’s voice reaching a fever pitch.

Johnny Suave: IT’S JOE ROGAN!”

The podcast king sprints down the ramp, leaping into the ring with the agility of a UFC fighter. Rogan immediately locks eyes with a terrified ABC anchor.

Rogan growls, before launching into a spinning back kick that sends the anchor flying through the ropes.

As Rogan, Vance, and Ramaswamy clear the ring of the last media stragglers, the crowd chants: “JOE! JOE! JOE!”

But the night is far from over. The familiar strains of “Hail to the Chief” fill the arena, and two figures appear at the top of the ramp.

Colleen Crowder: YES!  It’s Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama!

Crowder can barely containing her excitement.

Colleen Crowder: Maybe they can get Harris across the line.

As they make their way down, Tulsi Gabbard locks eyes with Hillary. Without warning, she sprints across the ring and dives through the ropes, tackling Clinton to the ground.

Johnny Suave: CAT-FIGHT… CAT-FIIIIIIGHT!

The two women roll around on the entrance ramp.

Colleen Crowder: WHAT IS SHE DOING?

Johnny Suave: Hillary Clinton once accused Tulsi an agent of Russia back in 2019 after Gabbard tore apart Kamala Harris in a debate.  She didn’t forget.

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!

Suddenly, Don Cheadle, Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, Robert Downey, Jr, Scarlett Johansson, and Paul Bettany appear on stage.

Colleen Crowder: YES!

Johnny Suave: Big Hollywood’s big stars are here tonight on Kamala Harris’s behalf and-  WAIT!

The arena erupts in chaos as a group of bearded men in suspenders and wide-brimmed hats storm the stage.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP.

Suave’s voice cracks with disbelief.

Johnny Suave: It’s a group of angry Amish men from Pennsylvania!

Colleen Crowder: WH- WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

Johnny Suave: They’re mad because of a January federal raid on a local raw milk farm in Bird in Hand, Pa.  The Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture stormed Amos Miller’s farm Jan. 4 after reports of illnesses in children linked to raw dairy products purchased there.

As straw hats and designer sunglasses fly, Trump seizes the moment. He grabs Harris, whipping her into the ropes.

Johnny Suave: Hotshot Stunner!

Trump catches Harris on the rebound, driving her head into his shoulder.

Colleen Crowder: NOOOO!

Trump’s not done. He hoists Harris up in a fireman’s carry, circling the ring as the crowd roars as Trump brings Harris crashing down.

Johnny Suave: Side Slam by Trump and he’s in control of this match.

Davey Keels slides into position, his hand slapping the mat. “One! Two!” But Harris kicks out at the last second.

Trump climbs the turnbuckle, his tie flapping in the wind. The fans are on their feet, cell phones raised to capture the moment. Suddenly, a blur of movement catches Trump’s eye.

Colleen Crowder: It’s Joy Reid!

The MSNBC host runs in and grabs Harris, pulling her to safety.

Trump’s face contorts with frustration.

Johnny Suave: You can run, but you can’t hide from the red wave!

Colleen Crowder: Stop saying that!

Trump leaps from the turnbuckle and pursues Harris around the ring.

As Trump chases Harris back inside, Suave leans into his mic.

Johnny Suave: Folks, I’ve seen a lot in my days at PCW, but this… this is unprecedented!

Colleen Crowder: I think I’m going to be sick.

The arena plunges into darkness.

Johnny Suave: Uh oh.

A sinister cackle echoes through the speakers as lightning flashes across the jumbotron.

Johnny Suave: It’s the Supreme Dark Overlord of PCW, Joe Biden!

A hooded figure emerges from billowing smoke, dressed like the political version of Star Wars’ Emperor Palpatine.  His eyes glowing an eerie blue behind a pair of dark sunglasses beneath the cowl. As he raises his gnarled hands and removes the sunglasses, electricity crackles from his eyes.

A bolt of political force energy shoots from Biden’s eyes. Trump ducks, the electricity sizzling past his ear and hitting a hot dog vendor in the aisle behind him incinerating him instantly.

J.D. Vance scrambles, grabbing a nearby mirror and tossing it to Trump. Trump catches the mirror just as another bolt flies towards him. He angles the glass, deflecting the energy. It ricochets, striking Kamala Harris. Her pants ignite in blue flames.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: My God! Her pants are on fire!

Johnny Suave: Hmmm… I seem to remember a certain phrase that ends with ‘pants on fire.’

Colleen Crowder: That’s not funny!

Harris shrieks, desperately patting at the flames. Tim Walz rushes to her aid.

Biden’s eyes unleash a second bolt of political force energy.  Again, Vance deflects this one into the path of Tim Walz who stumbles into its path. His own trousers burst into flames.

Colleen Crowder: JOE!  STOP!

Johnny Suave: It’s pandemonium in the ring! We’ve got flaming politicians everywhere!

Trump seizes his chance. As Harris flails, trying to extinguish herself, he lunges forward. In one fluid motion, he wraps his arms around her waist and rolls her up from behind.

Referee Davey Keels drops to the mat. “One!”

The crowd roars.

“Two!”

Trump grits his teeth, using all his strength to keep Harris pinned.

“Three!”

The bell rings. Trump releases his hold, staggering to his feet as the realization hits him.

Johnny Suave: HE’S DONE IT!

On the stage, Biden’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk. His work here is finished. He turns, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he arrived.

Kimber Marshall makes it official.

Kimber Marshall: Your winner and new CEO of PCW… DONALD TRUMP!

The arena erupts. Vance, Musk, Ramaswamy, RFK Jr., Gabbard, and Shanahan flood the ring, lifting Trump onto their shoulders in triumph.

Colleen Crowder: I can’t believe it!

Crowder gasps, her professional facade cracking.

Colleen Crowder: Harris was on fire… literally!

Johnny Suave: And she lost.

Colleen Crowder: And she lost.

Johnny Suave: Colleen, looks like Trump just fired Harris from the top job!

Colleen Crowder: Stop rubbing it in.

Suave turns to his co-commentator, his voice thick with emotion.

Johnny Suave: We’ve witnessed history tonight. Donald Trump has become the first person in the PCW era to do what Grover Cleveland once did a hundred years ago- win two non-consecutive terms.  Love him or hate him, Donald Trump is once again at the helm of PCW.

Colleen Crowder: Oh God… no.

As the celebration rages, a commotion erupts at the entrance ramp. New York Governor Kathy Hochul storms out, her face as red as the seats of the American Patriot section as she shrieks into a microphone.

Kathy Hochul: Anyone who supports Donald Trump and this… this travesty is anti-American!

Suddenly, two costumed figures burst from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: Wait!  Is that… Peanut the Squirrel and Fred the Raccoon?

The anthropomorphic duo charges Hochul, executing a perfect double clothesline that sends her sprawling.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen sighs.

Colleen Crowder: And now Kathy Hochul get taken out by two dead pets!

The crowd’s cheers turn to boos as Jennifer Rubin of the Washington Post rushes the stage, shoving Peanut and Fred to the floor.

Jennifer Rubin: MAGA squirrel deserved to die!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Jennifer Rubin: The media, it must be said, did not fulfill its role in educating the public and advancing truth as their primary objective. Refusal to explore Trump’s manifest defects and place him and his movement in the context of fascist strongmen and their cults had the effect of normalizing and legitimizing a candidate utterly unfit for office. But the facts nevertheless were there for anyone who cared to look. At some point, voters are responsible for their own decisions.

The crowd’s roar intensifies as Dawn McGill’s entrance music hits. The statuesque blonde strides down the ramp, her piercing blue eyes locked on Jennifer Rubin in the ring. Dawn’s tight black dress hugs her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

Dawn sneers at Rubin and snatches a microphone.

Dawn McGill: Well, well, if it isn’t the Washington Post’s resident hack. Jen Rubin, the queen of bad takes herself.

Rubin bristles, her face reddening.

Jennifer Rubin: How dare you! I’m a respected journalist-

Dawn McGill: You’re a joke.

Dawn cuts her off, climbing into the ring. She towers over Rubin, using every inch of her six-foot frame to intimidate.

Dawn McGill: A smug, stuck-up elitist who wouldn’t know real America if it bit you on your Beltway bubble ass.

The crowd erupts in cheers. Dawn basks in their energy, feeling the electricity coursing through the arena.

Jennifer Rubin: Listen here, you silicone-enhanced bimbo.

Rubin jabs a finger at Dawn’s chest.

Jennifer Rubin: I’ve forgotten more about politics than you’ll ever know!

Dawn’s eyes narrow dangerously. In one fluid motion, she grabs Rubin’s wrist and twists, eliciting a yelp of pain.

Dawn McGill: First of all, these are 100% real, honey. Second, you can take your elitist attitude and go *BLEEP* yourself with it.

The censored expletive echoes through the arena, drawing shocked gasps and raucous cheers in equal measure. Dawn releases Rubin’s wrist, shoving her back against the ropes.

Dawn McGill: You need to get out of your ivory tower and see what’s really going on in this country instead of sipping your lattes and writing hit pieces.

Rubin, red-faced and sputtering, stumbles backwards out of the ring. She trips on the bottom rope, nearly face-planting on the floor before catching herself. As she scurries up the ramp, Dawn’s laughter follows her.

Then… of course… Keith Olbermann appears, red-faced and spittle-flecked.

Keith Olbermann: Russian collusion!

Johnny Suave: Oh… no.

Keith Olbermann: It’s all Russian collusion!

Aimee Allen’s Ron Paul Anthem begins to play and the crowd pops.

Wake up! Wake up! Good morning America! Rise and Shine.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE!  NO WAY!

Rise and Shine!

A group appears and two drummers lead the procession. Some hold up a sign with a black and white drawing on the side of Ron Paul’s face with ‘Ron Paul-Revolution’ on the bottom.

Ron Paul! Save our constitutional rights Ron Paul! We’re not gonna give up the fight

Johnny Suave: HE’S BACK!

Keith Olbermann: What the- ARRRRRGHHHH!

Olbermann gets pushed off the stage and lands on the floor.

Ron Paul! Start a revolution and break down illegal institutions

Finally Ron Paul himself appears.

Johnny Suave: RON PAUL AND HIS NEW LIBERTARIAN ARMY ARE BACK IN PCW!

Colleen sighs.

Colleen Crowder: Why not?

The parade starts down the ring towards Trump, Musk, and the others.

PCW!… PCW!… PCW!…

[pcwpolwrestling]

11/23-PCW Extreme Political TV

Last Week on Night Two of PCW’s Extreme Election Night 2024 -Wellness checks on Hollywood celebs who threatened to do things if Trump won. No one seen at the airport leaving the country. Bono has not driven his car off the cliff.  Rob Reiner has not set himself on fire. -Pulp Fiction Videos: PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline and challenger ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’ Kathryn Randall Collins -Don Lemon announces he’s leaving X. -MATCH #1-PCW WOMEN’S TITLE: Catherine Cline (Ind) © defeated Kathryn Randall Collins (Prog Alliance) to retain the title -The View’s Whoopi Goldberg goes to the Concession Stand… what could go wrong there? -Pulp Fiction Videos: The Green World Order and PCW Tag Team Champions Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List Stone Chism -Back at The View, Whoopi complains about the Concession Stand -MATCH #2-PCW TAG TEAM TITLE: Starz N. Stripes/Stone Chism (Amer Patriots) © defeated The Green World Order (Prog. Alliance) to retain the title. -Don Lemon puts out a press release announcing he’s leaving X. -A concession worker comes out and tells Johnny Suave that there was a mechanical breakdown and that’s why Whoopi Goldberg’s food order couldn’t be filled. -Wellness checks on the Hollywood celebs.  No one has flown out of the country. Bono has not driven his car over the cliff. Rob Reiner has not spontaneously combusted. -MATCH #3-EXTREME HOUSE CAGE MATCH: The American Patriots defeated The Progressive Alliance -One last wellness check reports Eva Longoria has left the country, Bono has not driven himself off the cliff, and the streets of Hollywood are safe from Rob Reiner setting himself on fire. -MAIN EVENT-PCW TITLE: Charlie Blackwell (Amer Heartland) © defeated ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Prog Alliance) to retain the title.

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Central Bucks High School Gym Doylestown, PA Saturday November 16th, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Kirk Walstreit (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism (American Patriots) Since 3/3/2024 Contenders: The Deplorables: Ray McAvay/’Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan (American Heartland Coalition) The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid (SEC) Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer

***

The first match is joined in progress…

MATCH #1: Dave McCormick (-Pennsylvania-American Patriots) vs. Bob Casey (Pennsylvania-Progressive Alliance) The sound of splintering wood echoes through the arena as Dave McCormick slams Bob Casey through a table propped in the corner. The crowd erupts in a frenzy of cheers and boos.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! McCormick just put Casey through that table like he was made of paper!

Colleen Crowder, seated beside Suave, visibly winces. Her stomach turns at the violence, but she maintains her professional composure and mutters under her breath.

Colleen Crowder: That’s hardly a legitimate political tactic.

McCormick, sensing victory, goes for the pin. The referee’s hand slaps the mat once… twice… but before the third count, Bucks County (PA) commissioners Diane Ellis-Marseglia and Robert J. Harvie Jr. rush the ring, yanking the official away.

Johnny Suave: What the hell are they doing?

Ellis-Marseglia, her face red with exertion, shouts at the referee, “Recount! We demand a recount!”

The crowd boos as the referee reluctantly begins the count again. Casey barely moves, clearly dazed from the impact.

One… Two… The referee’s hand hovers in the air, but once more, Ellis-Marseglia and Harvie intervene, demanding yet another recount.

Johnny Suave: This is absurd!  Dave McCormick has Bob Casey pinned but Diane Ellis-Marseglia and Robert J. Harvie Jr are interfering with the count.

McCormick, frustration evident on his face, slides out of the ring and reaches underneath, pulling out another table.

Colleen Crowder: Oh great. Another table.

The crowd roars as he sets it up, their chants of “PCW! PCW! PCW!” drowning out Colleen’s protests.

With a burst of strength, McCormick hoists Casey up and delivers a thunderous body slam through the second table. The impact reverberates through the arena.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: Good God, that man has a family!

McCormick covers Casey again, and the referee begins to count. But like clockwork, Ellis-Marseglia and Harvie are there, demanding yet another recount.

Johnny Suave: Again Ellis-Marseglia and Harvie interfere and-

Suddenly, the crowd erupts as Lara Trump and Scott Presler charge down the ramp, steel chairs in hand.

Johnny Suave: IT’S LARA TRUMP AND SCOTT PRESLER!

Colleen Crowder: Oh my. This can’t be legal!

WHAP! Trump’s chair connects with Ellis-Marseglia’s back. WHAP! Harvie crumples to the ground after Presler cracks him in the back the steel-folding chair.

Johnny Suave: It is in PCW.

Casey, miraculously, staggers to his feet. Lara Trump, a gleam in her eye, tosses her chair to McCormick. The metal glints under the arena lights as it arcs through the air.

WHAP! The chair meets Casey’s skull with a sickening thud.

Johnny Suave: OH… HOLY CRAP!

Casey collapses like a marionette with cut strings.

McCormick covers. This time, the referee is not interrupted in making the count.  One… Two… THREE!

The bell rings, and the arena explodes in a cacophony of cheers and outrage.

Johnny Suave: He’s done it! Dave McCormick has finally pinned Bob Casey!

Colleen, her face a mix of disgust and disbelief, shakes her head.

Colleen Crowder: This isn’t politics, this is madness.

As McCormick celebrates in the ring, Colleen can’t help but wonder if this spectacle is a reflection of something far more troubling in the current political landscape. The line between entertainment and governance has never seemed so blurred.

***

Opening: PCW!… PCW!… PCW!… PCW!… PCW!… PCW!…

The show cuts to Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder inside the ring, microphones in hand. The arena buzzes with a mix of elation and dismay, mirroring the stark divide that’s gripped the nation.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV! Tonight, we are at the Central Bucks High School Gym for tonight’s show.  I’m Johnny Suave. She is Colleen Crowder, a low-level New York Times reporter trying to make a Name for herself.

Colleen cringes but offers a tepid wave of her hand.

Johnny Suave: Extreme Election Night 2024 is in the books, and boy, oh boy, has the landscape changed in PCW!

Colleen’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing behind her stylish glasses.

Colleen Crowder: Changed is certainly one word for it.

She mutters just loud enough for the mic to catch.

Suave, caught up in the moment, breaks into an exaggerated shimmy – the ‘Trump dance’ that’s gone viral across the country.

Johnny Suave: We’ve got a new sheriff in town, folks!

Colleen looks like she’s swallowed something particularly sour. This can’t be happening, she thinks, fighting the urge to cover her eyes. Columbia Journalism School did not prepare me for… whatever this is.

Colleen Crowder: Oh, for the love of –

Colleen’s words are drowned out by a deafening roar from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE!  IS HE HERE?

He’s here.

The arena explodes as Donald Trump, flanked by Elon Musk, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Tulsi Gabbard, J.D. Vance, and Mike Johnson, emerges from behind the curtain”USA! USA! USA!” The chant reverberates through the building.

Colleen can’t resist.

Colleen Crowder: Well, if it isn’t the Avengers of Alternative Facts.

Her voice drips with sarcasm as the Trump party strides down the ramp, basking in the adulation of the majority of the crowd.

Johnny Suave: The once and future CEO of PCW Donald Trump is here tonight!

The new PCW power players settle into their front-row seats, waving to their adoring fans. Trump, grinning widely, throws up twin victory signs.

Johnny Suave: Look at that, Colleen! A true American moment!

Colleen’s gaze drifts to the blue seats, where a pocket of attendees sit stone-faced, arms crossed.

Colleen Crowder: Not everyone’s feeling the love, Johnny,” she observes. “I think those folks up there would rather be at a root canal.

Johnny Suave: Hey it could be worse. You could be watching The View.

Colleen’s eyebrows shoot up, a retort forming on her lips, but before she can speak, the feed cuts abruptly.

***

The View The screen flickers, revealing a visibly uncomfortable Sunny Hostin on the set of The View. Her eyes are wide, darting nervously off-camera as she speaks in a stilted tone ‘legal note’ that she’s been directed to read like a hostage forced to read a message.

Sunny Hostin: In light of recent… developments, I would like to clarify my earlier statements regarding the… legitimacy of certain election results. After careful consideration and consultation with our legal team, I acknowledge that my previous comments were… unsubstantiated.

The feed cuts back to the PCW arena. Johnny Suave claps his hands together, his enthusiasm seemingly unaffected by the uncomfortable interlude.

Johnny Suave: And on that note, folks, we’ll be right back after this commercial message!

***

State of California Commercial California Governor Gavin Newsom appeared on screen with the Golden Gate Bridge outside of San Francisco in the background.

Flashback to 2020 where Newsom dined out with some ‘friends’ inside a swanky restaurant without a mask on while normal Californians were subjected to strict guidelines against large gatherings and ‘staying home.’

Gavin Newsom: Well. Kamala didn’t win at PCW Extreme Election Night 2024 and become the new PCW CEO.  That being said, I’m here to tell everyone… don’t forget that California is still open for business!

In the background, an endless parade of moving trucks pass by… leaving California.

Gavin Newsom: “Forget putting your business in rednecky Red State states out in the middle of Nowheresville USA… California is the place where your business should be.  California as the home of Silicon Valley, Hollywood, the Pacific Coast, Disneyworld-

Johnny Suave: “Stores closing.  Employees laid off.  Crap on the sidewalks… literally.

Gavin Newsom: “And-“

Johnny Suave: “Choking regulations driving business out of the state.”

Several moving trucks honk as they drive past towards the Arizona border.

Johnny Suave: “An average California home costs two–and–a–half times the average national home price and  the average monthly rent is 50 percent higher than the rest of the country.

Gavin Newsom: “With all that, it’s no wonder that California is the place to be.  So come to California, PCW.  And, oh, make sure you bring your checkbook…”

**SFX-the screen goes static and crackling**

Little did California businesses know that they were cosigners on the state’s nearly $20 billion loan from the federal government that was used to cover California’s unemployment fund shortfall during the COVID pandemic. This ugly truth became apparent when the state recently decided to stop making payments on this loan. When a state defaults on its federal unemployment insurance loan, federal law requires that the state’s businesses repay the loan.

The state’s decision to default is inexcusable. California recorded a nearly $100 billion state budget surplus last year, thanks to the state’s top earners, that could have been used to repay the debt. The state received $27 billion in federal COVID aid it could have used to repay the debt. The state’s record $300 billion–plus 2022–23 budget could have retired the debt. Even after defaulting, the state could have resumed its payments this year and offset the tax burden on businesses, as it planned to do in its 2023–24 budget. But as the state’s finances continue to decline, the state has walked back making payments or offsetting higher business federal unemployment insurance taxes.

Twenty-two states received federal unemployment loans during the pandemic, and California is just one of four states that have not yet repaid the debt. As of the end of last year, California owed nearly two-thirds of the outstanding $27.5 billion federal unemployment insurance debt among these four states. The other states with remaining unpaid debt are New York, Illinois, and Connecticut, all of which are high-tax and high-spending states that are all losing population to other states. I will let you draw your own inferences about why people are leaving California and these other three states and moving to states with lower taxes, fewer regulations, more economic freedom, and lower living costs.

**SFX-the screen goes static and crackling**

Gavin Newsom: …so you too can live the California dream…

(pause)

Newsom finishes in a low voice.

Gavin Newsom: …and help us pay off our debt.

***

Backstage The camera pans to a backstage area. The husband, Tom, adjusts his “I Pay My Bills On Time” lapel pin while his wife, Sarah, smooths her “Fiscal Responsibility” sash.

Tom (puffing out his chest): Honey, did you see how I paid our electric bill three days early this month?

Sarah (beaming): Oh yes, dear! And I cancelled our streaming services to save an extra $29.99. We’re so responsible!

They high-five, their faces glowing with self-satisfaction.

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Colleen Crowder: What the hell was that?

Johnny Suave: A young couple doing the right thing.  Why?

Colleen Crowder: Why did we need to see that?

Johnny Suave: Why not?  Let’s go to the ring for our next match.

***

MATCH #2: The SEC Squad vs. The Buffet Club The arena lights dim, then flare to life as Kimber Marshall’s heels click-clack up the steel steps. She slides under the bottom rope, her wavy brunette hair bouncing as she springs to her feet. The crowd’s roar washes over her like a wave, and she can’t help but grin.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our next match!

She pauses dramatically, brown eyes sparkling.

Kimber Marshall: Already in the ring, we have… The Buffet Club!

The spotlight swings to illuminate two figures: a massive man whose belly strains against his singlet, and a lanky youth fidgeting nervously beside him.

Kimber Marshall: First, standing at 5’11” and weighing in at a whopping 346 pounds – ‘The Big Hungry,’ the ‘King of Buffet Style’… Couch Potato!

The larger man raises his arms, eliciting a mix of cheers and boos. Kimber suppresses a chuckle. He looks like he’d rather be lounging in his namesake than standing in this ring, she thinks.

Kimber Marshall: And his partner, from Chesterfield, Missouri, standing at 6’3″ and weighing 165 pounds… The Order Taker!

The skinny wrestler steps forward, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Do you want fries with that?” he shouts, his catchphrase met with groans and scattered laughter.

Kimber opens her mouth to continue, but a booming voice cuts her off.

Booming Voice: Now hold on just a minute!

Paul Finebaum strides down the ramp, a smug grin plastered across his face. Three imposing figures flank him, moving with the easy confidence of apex predators.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, coming to the ring, led by SEC apologist Paul Finebaum… The SEC!

The crowd erupts as the new arrivals climb into the ring. Finebaum grabs the mic from Kimber’s hand.

Paul Finebaum: You call that an introduction?” he sneers. “Let me show you how it’s done. These men represent the greatest conference in all of sports!

Kimber rolls her eyes but steps back, allowing Finebaum his moment.

Paul Finebaum: From Gainesville, Florida, standing 6’3″ and weighing 239 pounds… Gator Bates!

The first wrestler steps forward, mimicking the infamous ‘Gator Chomp’ with his arms.

Paul Finebaum: From Tuscaloosa, Alabama, 6’2″ and 234 pounds of pure Crimson Tide… The Alabama Kid!

The second man raises a fist, drawing cheers from a section decked out in crimson and white.

Paul Finebaum: And finally,” Finebaum’s voice drops to a reverential hush, “the ‘Enforcer of the SEC,’ from Cordele, Georgia, standing 6’6” and weighing 295 pounds… ‘Georgia Bulldog’ Brice Brantley!

The largest of the three newcomers growls, baring his teeth in a ferocious grin.

As Finebaum continues to extol the virtues of his team, Kimber catches the eye of Johnny Suave at the announcer’s table. He gives her a wink and a thumbs up.

MATCH INFO: Paul Finebaum’s SEC model themselves as the best of the best.  The Buffet Club are always looking for their next big meal.

KEY MOMENT: The match unfolds like a tornado tearing through a trailer park, with The SEC dominating from the start. Bates and The Alabama Kid take turns pummeling The Order Taker, their coordinated attacks a testament to their superior training. Couch Potato, meanwhile, lumbers around the ring’s perimeter, his massive bulk an obstacle the SEC wrestlers can’t seem to overcome.

MATCH FINISH: Inside the ring, Bates and The Alabama Kid exchange a look of frustration. They’ve worn down The Order Taker, but Couch Potato remains untouched. With a simultaneous grunt, they charge at the 346-pound behemoth, attempting to lift him for a double suplex.

Their muscles strain, veins bulging, but Couch Potato doesn’t budge. The crowd’s laughter turns to gasps as Brantley, the SEC’s enforcer, climbs through the ropes uninvited.

Johnny Suave: The Georgia Bulldog’s joining the fray! This can’t be good for the Buffet Club and-

Johnny’s drowned out by the thunderous crash as the SEC trio heaves Couch Potato over the top rope and through a conveniently placed table. The splintering wood punctuates the crowd’s chant: “PCW! PCW! PCW!”

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Back in the ring, Bates wastes no time. He grabs The Order Taker, his hands mimicking jaws as he clamps down on his opponent’s head.

Johnny Suave: Gator Chomp!

Bates slams The Order Taker to the mat.

The Alabama Kid tags in, climbing to the top turnbuckle. With a cry of “Roll Tide!” he launches himself into a picture-perfect moonsault. The referee’s hand slaps the mat once… twice… three times!

Kimber slides into the ring, her hair slightly disheveled but her voice strong as ever.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners… The SEC!

AFTERMATH: As the victorious trio celebrates, Paul Finebaum snatches the microphone from Kimber’s hand. His face is flushed with triumph as he addresses the booing crowd.

Paul Finebaum: You’ve just witnessed the dominance of the Southeastern Conference! In football or in this ring, the SEC reigns supreme. It just means more!

***

Backstage-Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski The camera cuts abruptly to a dimly lit backstage area. Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski stand before a PCW banner, their faces a mix of defiance and unease.

Joe Scarborough: Look, we know our meeting with Trump has ruffled some feathers, but-

Mika Brzezinski: We’re journalists. It’s our job to-

A blur of motion erupts behind them. Keith Olbermann, eyes blazing with righteous fury, swings a steel chair into Joe’s back. The sickening clang echoes as Joe crumples to the ground.

Rosie O’Donnell, her face contorted in disgust, grabs Mika by the hair.

Rosie O’Donnell: You sellouts!

Rosie slams face-first into the concrete wall.

Olbermann, looming over the fallen pair, spits out his condemnation.

Keith Obermann: Not a word Mr. and Mrs. Vichy Quisling say can ever be trusted again – not that those words ever should have been trusted. They are confidence tricksters – and grifters!

Berkeley, California Professor McCarthy strides into the scene, his Flock in tow. The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior’s eyes gleam with fanatical zeal, while the Legion of Anti-Fascists (LOAF #1 and #2), Codee Pink, and Emily S. List flank their leader menacingly.

McCarthy raises his ‘good book’  (a Bible-like book that tells people things that are correct or incorrect to say, think, or believe) high, its gilded edges catching the spotlight.

He thunders…

Professor McCarthy: Behold! The path of righteousness! Joe and Mika have strayed, and they must be silenced!  Anyone who strays from the orthodoxy must be immediately shouted down!

The crowd’s boos crescendo, but McCarthy’s sneer only deepens.

Professor McCarthy: Silence, you simpletons! You lack the intellectual capacity to grasp these matters. We, the educated elite, must guide your feeble minds! So shut up and sit down because you people aren’t smart enough to think for yourselves and educated elites like me need to do the talking for them.

As the jeers intensify, Johnny Suave steps in.

Johnny Suave: Whoa there, Professor! Looks like it’s time for a commercial break!

McCarthy’s face purples with rage as the camera fades to black, the boos of the crowd still ringing in the air.

***

Backstage Cut to another man, Dave, ironing his work uniform. He winces, clearly battling a nasty head cold.

Dave (to himself): “Ugh, I feel like death warmed over. But by God, I’m going to drag myself to work anyway!”

He coughs dramatically, then strikes a heroic pose.

Dave: Because that’s what real Americans do! We work, no matter what!

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Colleen Crowder: What the hell?

Johnny Suave: Don’t you think it’s great that people do good things?

Colleen Crowder: Fine.  But why do we have to hear that?

Johnny Suave: I thought you liked virtue signaling.

Colleen turns to Johnny.

Colleen Crowder: I… I…

She throws her hands up.

Colleen Crowder: Whatever.

Johnny Suave: We’ll be back after these messages.

***

Commercial Break The screen flickers to life with a somber piano melody. A disheveled Jimmy Kimmel appears, huddled in the corner of a dimly lit studio.

Narrator: Every day, late-night hosts suffer in silence. Their once-vibrant shows now reduced to echo chambers of despair.

The camera pans across empty seats where Seth Meyers sits alone, feebly attempting to deliver a monologue to no one.

Narrator: With Trump’s victory, these endangered creatures face a crisis. Their ratings plummet, leaving them starved for attention and validation.

Stephen Colbert is seen scrounging through a dumpster marked “Leftover Trump Jokes,” his suit tattered and stained.

Narrator: But you can help. For just pennies a day, you can sponsor a late-night host, providing them with the essential Trump zingers and resistance rhetoric they need to survive.

Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” swells as the camera lingers on Jimmy Kimmel, tears streaming down his face as he clutches a framed photo of himself with Obama.

Narrator:  Please, call now. Don’t let their voices be silenced.

“In the arms of an angel, fly away from here…

***

The commercial fades, replaced by the raucous energy of the PCW arena. Johnny Suave stands in the center of the ring, his booming voice echoing through the stadium.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to PCW Extreme-

Johnny’s eyes suddenly widen, his attention drawn to something above. A chill runs down his spine as he spots the commotion in the Eagle’s Nest.

Johnny Suave: MATT, LOOK OUT!

The camera whips around, revealing Dawn McGill at the production controls. Matt Gaetz lounges nearby, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

In a flash, American Patriot Senators Lisa Murkowski (Alaska), Susan Collins (Maine), John Curtis (Utah), and McConnell (Kentucky) descend upon Gaetz like a pack of wolves. Curtis shoves a table in front of Dawn, cutting her off from the melee. McConnell stumbles, inexplicably falling asleep on his feet, blocking Dawn’s path.

Johnny’s heart races as he watches the brutal assault unfold.

Murkowski and Collins rain down blows on Gaetz, their faces contorted with partisan fury. Curtis joins in, his fists a blur of bipartisan aggression.

The senators, drunk on their momentary power, drag Gaetz to the edge of the Eagle’s Nest.

Johnny Suave: Oh, no no no no-

With a collective heave, they send him plummeting towards the arena floor.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Johnny’s scream tears through the arena as Gaetz’s body crashes onto the unforgiving concrete.

The senators pose triumphantly, basking in the shocked silence of the crowd. But their victory is short-lived.

A blur of blonde hair and righteous indignation storms into view, wielding a steel chair like an avenging angel, descends upon the gloating senators.

Johnny Suave: THAT’S PAM BONDI!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Johnny Suave: BONDI TAKES THEM DOWN ONE BY ONE!

Murkowski, Curtis, and Collins crumple under Bondi’s furious assault.

Johnny, his voice hoarse from the chaos, can only shake his head in disbelief.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, Matt Gaetz was attacked and taken out .  But now, they have to deal with Pam Bondi.

Bondi poses over Murkowski, Curtis, and Collins on the ground.

***

Backstage In the next room, a woman named Karen is writing in her gratitude journal.

Karen: I treated the barista like a human being today, just like I aspire to treat everyone with respect.

She looks up, making eye contact with the camera.

Karen: I always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ It’s not much, but I know it’s honest work and I’m sure the barista appreciated it.

Cut back to the broadcast table…

Colleen Crowder: Okay… what?

Johnny Suave: Don’t you love virtue signaling?

Colleen Crowder: Ahhh…  yes.  But not this.

Johnny Suave: Okay.  As you know, Bud Light is trying to regain the market share they lost during a recent ad campaign.  Tonight, we debut one of their new commercials and it features PCW wrestlers.

***

Commercial Break The Bud Light Commercial starts with a thunderous explosion.

Johnny Suave: Are you ready for some REAL AMERICAN BEER?

The ground shook and the air fills with the deafening sound of an explosion. The camera pans across a chaotic scene – a monster truck crushing smaller vehicles, driven by none other than ‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay himself. As he cracks open a Bud Light, foam sprays everywhere in a wild display of his strength and excitement.

Johnny Suave: Get ready for the ultimate American beer experience!

Ray McAvay: This ain’t your daddy’s light beer anymore!

Sarah Mae Smith appears, arm-wrestling PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell.  She slams his hand down.

Sarah Mae Smith: Bud Light – for the heartland heroes!

Sarah Mae winks mischievously at the camera while a facetious Blackwell holds his arm.

Sarah Mae Smith: We’re reclaiming this beer for Main Street USA!”

Johnny Suave: Bud Light – now with 200% more FREEDOM!

As if on cue, majestic eagles soar overhead and fireworks spell out “BUD LIGHT” in bold letters of red, white, and blue.

‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay, ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith, and Charlie Blackwell chant in unison: “BUD LIGHT – *BLEEP* YEAH!”

*Commercial ends*

***

The crowd roars as Johnny Suave stands in the ring.

Johnny Suave: Speaking of Charlie Blackwell… ladies and gentlemen, here is your PCW Champion… Charlie Blackwell!

Charlie emerges from the curtain, title belt gleaming on his shoulder. The fans erupt, a sea of raised fists and chants of “Charlie! Charlie!” He strides down the ramp, slapping hands with the front row.

As Charlie slides into the ring, he surveys the screaming masses. A grin spreads across his weathered face. This is what it’s all about. The people. Not the suits in Washington or the fat cats on Wall Street.

He grabs the mic from Suave and Charlie’s gruff voice rings out.

Charlie Blackwell: PCW, we did it! We showed ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels and all the elites that the power belongs to the people!

The crowd goes wild. Charlie raises the title high, basking in their adoration.

Charlie Blackwell: This is our moment. A triumph for the everyman.  PCW Extreme Election Night 2024 will go down in history as the night the people took back PCW. The night the people struck back at the elites. Extreme Election Night 2024 was a populist revolt!  Blackwell raises the PCW title belt in the air…

Suddenly, two figures vault over the barricade. Before Charlie can react, Neal Conn and Hallie Burton are on him like rabid dogs.

Johnny Suave: What the hell?! It’s Neal Conn- making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order! The man who believes America must dominate the world stage!

Charlie stumbles as Conn’s boot connects with his spine. He whirls to defend himself, but Burton is there, driving a knee into his gut.

Johnny Suave: And that’s Hallie Burton- protector of the military-industrial complex.

As Charlie gasps for air, Conn grabs a fistful of his hair.

Neal Conn: Your little populist fantasy is over, Blackwell.

Conn slams Charlie face-first into the turnbuckle.

The crowd’s cheers turn to boos as a new figure appears at the top of the ramp. Conservative Inc’s Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins saunters toward the ring, a smug smile on his face.

Johnny Suave: Oh no.  Not this country club jackass.

Elkins raises a microphone.

Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins: You simple fools.  You actually believe you have power? Let me educate you – money is power. Your pathetic American Heartland Coalition is nothing but a fairytale.

Charlie lunges for Elkins, but Conn and Burton hold him back. The Elk continues.

Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins: True power will always rest with those who have the money and the connections. Your little revolution? It ends now.

Burton low blows Blackwell.  Then Conn lifts Charlie up and sends him crashing down with an Air Raid Crash.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The show ends with the camera focused on Blackwell laid out in the ring with Neal Conn, Hallie Burton, and Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins standing over him…

***

…well, not yet.

Epilogue The scene cuts to Kamala Harris outside Central Bucks High School Gym. She fidgets nervously, her designer suit looking out of place against the worn brick building.

Kamala (thinking): This is humiliating. I was supposed to be the most powerful woman in the world. Now I’m begging for scraps.

She spots Lindy Li approaching and plasters on her trademark smile.

Kamala Harris: Lindy! So good to see you. I was hoping we could discuss-

Lindy cuts her off with a withering glare.

Lindy Li: Save it, Kamala. You promised our donors the moon and delivered a pebble.

Kamala’s smile falters. She thinks: Keep it together. You’ve faced worse than this.

Kamala Harris: Now, Lindy, let’s not be hasty. We can still-

Lindy Li: We? There is no ‘we’ anymore. You’re on your own.

As Lindy walks away, Kamala slumps against the gym wall, hat in hand, as the show comes to an end.