OF COURSE you're here all night, Calypso! Where the fuck else would you be? It's not like you're on the road with the rest of us, Mr. "I-Beat-Ghost-Tank-Three-Years-Ago", or in the gym doing anything more intense than the thigh master workout Jamaican Jimmy downloaded for the two of you. By the way, thigh master workouts don't usually involve someone penetrating you... I think he just told you that.

Oh shit! Raven can call someone a and talk about himself in the third person! He's now perfectly adapted to the modern day style! But can he master the delivery of a Federweight Icon like Calypso?

YES! HE! FUCKING! CAN!

Seriously, what the fuck is with you people and the slurs? Is this the last bastion of freedom to express your homophobia-fueled rage? Are you trying to rely on shock value to distract from the fact that you can barely form a coherent sentence? Has it just become the generic insult for someone that you're trying to pick a fight with but don't actually know anything about? I like that you finally brought some aggression, Calypso, now try and bring some relevant points next time.

You're repetitive. You ramble. You talk endlessly about things that make very little sense, and have absolutely nothing to do with me as if that somehow wins this battle for you in the court of public opinion. You contradict yourself constantly, you misquote me and put words in my mouth. I didn't say your teeth are chipped, I said you have a gap so big that Michael Strahan is suing you for gimmick infringement. Emma Stone thinks your eyes are too "buggy", her words not mine. Your hairline makes Lebron James look youthful. You look like the guy that would offer to blow me in a bus station bathroom for a fiver, then do it for free when I say that I don't have any cash. You got your ass beat by Jim Caedus and have an over-inflated sense of his abilities because of that, and what I do to him will be more impressive than what I do to you. You have a shitty sense of style, and shitty taste in snacks and party music. Your ring gear makes a Richard Simmons look like a Hells Angel, and you're just the latest in what will be a long list of my title defenses.

See Calypso? THESE are all relevant points. Get out a pad and pencil, and don't come back here mumbling about broom closets and shit that happened while I was retired and plowing the women you sadly jerk it too when nobody shows up to one of your lame parties. I'll be right here all night too, unless someone comes by and crowns me first. Kickout.

I'll give your regards to Caedus. You're right, someone here will beat me eventually... but it's sure as fuck not going to be one of you two.