SATAN! vision would like to dedicate this specific presentation to Robbie Bourbon and his fans, to help them cry themselves to sleep at night and get over all his recent losses. It's also somewhat dedicated to his partner, chicken salad sandwich, who likes to pretend he's some kind of batman mystery undercover special douche. Bourbon is right, however, we need to cater more to his ways by listening to his sad story while Bob Segar blares in the background so we can get more viewers. We're hoping that Seal can set the same kind of mood for all the Robbie Bourbon listeners out there looking for this soap opera kind of programming. All of them hopefully tuning in, so we can all have a good tear shed in Bourbon's honor of being the biggest pathetic loser the XWF has ever seen. He tells us all it's not a story reference we're supposed to take pity on him as he 'Turns the Page' after a BWP loss.

You mean Robbie, forcing us to watch yourself lick your wounds while wrapping up your bandages and extensively rambling on and on about how we're supposed to respect you because you 'show up' to your matches, but can't seem to win them. We're all supposed to pretend like that isn't practically whining like a little bitch? You want a participation trophy? A piece of candy? A fucking cookie? What the hell is it you want from us, ya big baby? Respect? Ha, sorry but I don't think so. Because whoa is fucking me Robbie Bourbon, listen to the soothing sad saxophone sounds of Bob Seger and feel sorry for me.

You maybe didn't shed a fucking tear, but if you want to tell me that you weren't insinuating that we all should feel sorry for you then your one giant ball of hypocritical hoopla, or as he likes to term it, whimsical fuckery. If you want respect, earn it, if you want to compare things Soldier does to the pitiful punk Ghost Tank, then you better take a long look at your self loathing pathetic loser life in the mirror. Real men accept a loss and learn how to improve from it and do, you still haven't improved loss after loss and continue to wallow in your own self pity hoping for a bit of attention from the crowd. You're the one who's got some growing up to do, !

Ya big Baaaaaaaby, I'd like to bring ya to a kiss from the rose on the grave!

Because when we can't come up with better lyrics to songs from twelve years ago, then we better just make it from fucking twenty years ago! Unknown Soldier would be happy to tuck him in tonight, give him a kiss from the rose on the grave, and read him a bed time story about how being a fat loser is a great life goal, and a great path to being the most sarcastically lame president in history. We shouldn't have to give such a long preamble to the show here we are providing today; however, if Robbie Bourbon wants to attack GodSmack and it's visualization stimulation package provided here by SATAN! vision previously this week, then we're going to knock his lame self-loathing diatribe bullshit to light as well and what acoustics he presented there.

Being someone who considers himself the president, you would think that he would keep up with the XWF times and realize that voodoo is what's hot in the XWF right now. Everyone except one voted for it to be Ghost Tank's match this week, including Bourbon himself! So how the fuck is he going to insult us for incorporating the one song that automatically rings a bell whenever you hear about the practice of voodoo necromancy? That's right , God-fucking-Smack! Why is it suddenly not cool to roll with it now, Robbie? Don't you, the president, want the XWF people to have what they want. They want fucking voodoo and they want GodSmack, you hear me! That's what we're giving them here at SATAN! vision! The more flip-flopping this beached whale does with his sense of humor, the more he starts to look like the Moby Dick of politicians! That's not even a fat joke but more a reference to his speaking out against his own vote! You know, like Hillary Clinton saying whatever she has too to get elected so she can vote based on her political agenda in office based on the request of her Supreme Financier, George Soros.


As if in a boomerang the light that disappeared in a flash just moments ago in the void darkness had disappeared, comes soaring back into your face like a pair of headlights traveling down the interstate on a semi-truck. Swooping just out of reach on the right eye and swooping back around and coming in from the left in a oval tornado mix of light splattered with bits of dark like a unique home self made art painting. A sense of euphoria like being dropped from a roller coaster overtakes you once again. Thrusting you back almost instantaneously into the insanity and madness that is the will of the people here and of their mind to wander here in the madness.

Everyone wants to tune into what we're broadcasting here. I mean, what else could you be tuning into right now? Another Robbie Bourbon promo where he can't find more than two syllable words to rhyme with his poetry that's just a jumble of pulling pie in the sky things from out of nowhere trying to be funny like an episode of Family Guy? I've seen worthless like Makaveli make better raps then him. I don't think anyone has anymore time for any of thist nonsense. It's time to settle in and get ready for a Hillary presidency. I mean, you all saw how well she was prepped in the debates by none other than SATAN! visions star actor Unknown Soldier himself. She was far more prepared then Donald Trump and soon the Fearsome Foursome of the Fucking Future will control the XWF Tag titles, United States presidency, and entire world gold supremacy universal control. The inevitable rule of the Gloominati over the republic is unavoidable. Bend over and receive your Freemasons emblem looking inverted pentagram butt plug now, bitch boy!

We now pan back to the enormous evil tower piled story upon story high above the clouds in the city of New York. The same dark tower where Unknown Soldier trained Hillary Clinton to win the debates facing the dumbfounded drubby lookin' doofus Donald Trump. Inside this same podium filled room, the entire Fearsome Foursome of the Fucking Future is seen hanging out and partying in celebration of the victory. Drinking hard alcohol out of one of Hillary Clinton's stumps, while smoking off the other one like a bong filled with Lua Dust. Supreme Financier Darth Soros is seen huddled off back in the corner avoiding the celebration circle of Hillary, Doctor D'ville, and Unknown Soldier. Staring off out the window watching a dump truck drop a pile of c-diff off it's high rises out and over onto the top of Trump Tower down below. Twice a day at exactly 6:66 the rancid feces drops on a timer on top of the tower built by illegals. Showering his daughters Ivanka and Tiffany dressed in bikinis fighting in a small inflatable blow up pool where an XWF inspired ring stipulation has taken to the world of womans scat mud wrestling by storm!

Geroge Soros lets out an elongated and definitive sigh, shaking his head while staring at the girls rubbing rancid feces on each others boobs and making out. He uses this sigh as an obvious attempt to get the attention of the rest of the group. Hillary winning the debates and dumping shit on top of Trump and his daughters and watching them wrestle in his disgusting mess just isn't enough to satisfy the money grubbing Gloominati demon king. Not until they all rule the universe will he be ultimately satisfied, it burns deep within his dark and evil soul as the demonic anti-christ demon inside longs to fling itself from his inner sanctum of secluded secrets.

The group acknowledge the sigh but immediately go back to drinking and smoking and partying, knowing him to just be a genuine old grumpy bastard. This enrages Soros, who commanded attention at that very instant, and the old timid geezer throws back his cape and screams at the other members of his party like a banshee from the very bottom depths of hell. Grabbing the two aftificial limbs of Hillary Clinton, turning them to gold instantly as King Midas is known to do, and chucking them out the window. Shattering the glass to pieces and causing a vicious wind storm from the heavy breeze due to their substantially tall extenuating height inside the tower.

Thankfully, Doctor D'ville saw this coming and grabbed hold of the steel beams in the center of the room holding the building in place. George Soros and Hillary Clinton go flailing out of the room. Those two old wenches didn't stand a chance and flew directly out the shattered glass window like a sheet of paper flailing in the wind. Just in the nick of time Doctor D'ville is able to stretch out and grab his tag team partner...


...






..



by his 6.66 inch long demon dick that came out of his pants as it does quite frequently since he never zips them so he's always rearing to go, if you know what I mean!

The air and speed of the wind blowing out of the top floor of the tower is increasing, yet Doctor D'ville still holds tightly onto Soldier's slightly above average, but still gets the job done, size penis. Holding onto Soldier for his dear life as the increasing wind jerks Soldier around the room violently, pulling him closer and closer away from Doc's grip and sailing away into the skyline. He must be in great pain, as his male members are being stretched out as if it were a Stretch Armstrong doll. For SATAN! sake if this doesn't show what kind of team comradery these two have for one another, then I don't know what else in the hell will. Of course this will give Robbie Bourbon more ammunition for his toddler levl gay kid jokes about the team of Doctor D'ville and Unknown Soldier being homosexual, but quite frankly, we don't see how that's much of an argument that would lead to them being a worse team. In fact, if they were a gay couple wouldn't that probably make them even a better tag team?

Knowing the ins and outs of your partner is a serious asset in a tag team match. Wasn't he the one bragging about being such an all knowing tag team genius? Yet is quick enough to belittle a homosexual tag team as being inferior to his just because they are gay? Well I guess that answers our question we had for you about transgender bathrooms Mr President. You homophobic waste to the equal rights system of America, you! Here's a thought, maybe you should tell your brain to start eating your belly, that way you can maybe not be so fucking stupid and lose a few pounds.

Back now to the Mission Impossible scene like action as Doc locks his legs around the steel beam so he can reach out and grab Soldier with both hands. He's reaching out for his hands, but Soldier insists that he can't reach Doc. Even though it's most likely he could. Instead Doc reaches down and grabs both hands around his demon dick and starts pulling him closely to safety. He pulls Soldier in closely so that his lips rise directly to his ear. Soldier says to Doc in a very seductive but stern manner.

Unknown Soldier: "Your ass looks great in those jeans."

D'ville pulls him in close, and then shot puts the two of them through the open door flailing open to the debate room, flinging Soldier down the hallway and quickly shutting the door behind him. He gets up and immediately makes his way to the sink to wash his hands, for the most part just assuming that Soldier made it through the fall without any serious problems.

Unknown Soldier: "Dude, Doc, you saved my life! But you had to touch my dick to do it? Do you suppose everyone will think we're a team now?"

Doctor D'ville: "Ignorant people like Robbie Bourbon who just automatically assume that since we're a tag team that we're a gay homosexual couple. I'm sure he dug up a few of those gay insults he used to toss at team Ferngotti back in the day out of the trash when he found the Tag Team titles."

Unknown Soldier: "You think maybe we should reverse it?"

Doctor D'ville: "Reverse what?"

Unknown Soldier: "You know, the gay polarity. Make the two cancel each other out so that it's not gay anymore."

Doctor D'ville: "What are you proposing?"

Unknown Soldier: "Well, since you touched my dick I think the only way to reverse and cancel that out, would be for me to grab your dick!"

Doctor D'ville: "That will be quite alright, I think we're good now. I think it stands a testament to our strength as a team for me to prove that I'm willing to go to any lengths to save your life so that the two of us together can become the XWF Tag Team Champions. Despite whatever homosexual innuendos Robbie Bourbon throws our way. Say, did I tell you I just got some good news on that Doctor Diff you were trying to find."

Soldier's train of attention span dwindles quickly away from dick touching and Robbie Bourbon as the discussion brought up by Doctor D'ville is an important link to obtaining the colon disease that he craves so badly. Clostridium Difficile. His ears perk up as the two make their way down the hallway and this presentation seizes. You don't need another lightness to darkness outro to sign this one off to know what already happens. You've seen The Twilight Zone enough to know what I'm talking about by this time.


"You know Robbie, for a guy that sure likes to rag on me for repetitive Ghost Tank jokes that you may or may not have found funny or tailored similar to that of Dim or Morbid Angel. You sure like to make references to pant less Peter Gilmour's in Bullet Club t-shirts and pictures of Barney's minuscule sized penis. That's what we all do, reference each other in a pack of back and forth jokes. So don't act you don't play that same silly little game that everyone else here does. Would it make sense for me to start making reference to Owen Hart and Macho Man Randy Savage. No it wouldn't, because not only are they not competitors in the XWF, but they're fucking dead! You're going to keep making horrible jokes in reference to Barney's abnormally small cock and I'm going to keep tearing apart Ghost Tank's asshole like it were a piece of paper in a tree chipping machine. You ain't above the threshold of repetitive jokes at the resident XWF punching bags and you're certainly not better then me at it!

Why is it that you feel the constant need to complain about the XWF falling from grace like it were some kind of special angel from heaven descending from the sky. From my point of view, things have always been great and the only downfall as of late is that you've become something relevant. By getting handed off a pair of tag team titles without earning them in any way shape or form. Not winning three tag team matches in a row in one night in heroic fashion, but rather finding them in a fucking dumpster on the side of the road. A trait Robbie Bourbon taught his tuna salad sandwich partner well. When he handed off one half of the tag team championship titles to someone we don't even know the name of in his own grandmothers house. Frodo Smackins should be ashamed of himself for letting these types of atrocities take place on such a dignified pro-scat television broadcast such as Warfare. I mean, what is the XWF after all, ObamaCare? Just giving away hand outs to illegal immigrants and fat lazy fuck heads like Robbie Bourbon.

You see, he wouldn't know what it's like to earn an actual briefcase for himself, let alone two of them like I have. So how in the hell is he going to coach me on the right time and place when to cash in? I'll strike when the time is right and only when the time is right. Because if I don't then I would look like a real jack ass. I know that's something you're used to, but, I plan on making this little game of mine last for as long as I fucking please. In fact, maybe I'll just keep being the Xtreme Champion until I collect 666 briefcases before I finally cash in. Hell yeah, you'll have to respect the fuck out of me then, won't you Robbie. When I reach my Xtreme Championship goal of 666 briefcases! That's way more bad ass then just being a Universal Champion if you ask me.

Which is ironic that you have to spend so much time re living Doctor D'ville's title reign as Universal Champion, simply because you don't have any substantial examples of yourself winning matches so the only thing you can do is nit pick at a loss he admits he fucked up on. As if that mattered anyway, because if that stupid slut Alexis Riot, a bitch I handled easily in a title defense, were even remotely relevant in any conversations about this match on Warfare. It's also sort of like you you and Arby Beef keep mentioning Ginger Snaps out of nowhere in mid conversation as if she were relevant. Maybe an inside joke between you two hon-yawks, I dunno? Either way it's lame and really starting to make you and your partner sound even dumber then ever like when he claims I'm a former Universal Champion even though I am not. Doc is, but not me. I mean, I appreciate the dick sucking, but get your facts straight philly cheese steak and study your opponents! Something your tag partner Robbie Bourbon has been stressing at me all week but apparently not teaching his sandwich side kicks in his weak ass wrestling dojo! Or how about when you call me a Dim or Morbid Angel rip off. When I've been hunting the grounds of XWF for many years before those two bozos made their way on the scene.

Don't tell me to study my opponents, when the two of you don't even have a single fucking clue about me. Robbie Bourbon will contend that this is just a tag team match; albeit his tag team partner, french dip, pointed out the Xtreme title will be on the line. No it's no fucking 'mystery' Mr. Beef, that no matter where I go I have to defend the strap. But neither of you two fuck bags will be pinning me and taking it off my shoulders. That's the thinking process of someone with a line of excuses as long as Robbie Bourbon. The person with the typical thinking that tag team wrestling is the only thing their good at, when in reality the fact of the matter is they fucking suck so bad they need a partner to carry them over the finish line. You're the re-incarnated version of Peter Gilmour when Sid Feder and I had to carry to victory constantly. Look at that, I even have more team championship credentials then Robbie Bourbon. Oh wait, he won a few matches with Pest and a giant team match where five other wrestlers had to carry his fat ass instead of just one. I hate to quote Vinnie Lane on this but. Great job, dude!

Every match I'm in is an Xtreme Championship match and that's how real winners and champions go about every obstacle in their wrestling careers. With their balls to the wall and everything on the line. Doctor D'ville and Unknown Soldier understand that this type of mentality in singles competition can easily transfer over, and already has with the two of them well in tag team competion. Evidence by the way they walked through the other tag teams in the Warfare prior to meeting up with Tag Team Champions. Soldier and Doc will keep rising to the top and Robbie Bourbon will keep holding onto the fact that he needs a team mate to make him look even remotely good.

The fact of the matter is it's obvious that Doctor D'ville and I make a better team then the two of you. Robbie wasn't even expecting this magical sandwich to even show up at first while the two of us were winning one night tag team tournaments. You see, the really funny thing of it all is this. We don't even need to be a good team. Because you didn't just run into an ordinary pack of All-Stars Robbie Bourbon. What you got yourself into was a suicide match paired with a number 1 value meal at a fast food restaurant against the two greatest superstars to ever set foot in the XWF. And to be quite frank, we wouldn't even need to team up to accomplish our overall goal. I'm sure both D'ville and myself could handle Robbie Bourbon and a ham sandwich without the help of the other if we needed to. Either of us could take of you two lightweights by our own damn selves!"