Behold! The verdant African savannah. The very creche of humanity. Teeming with life evermore.

But naturally, there’s something here to spoil it.

A jeep rushes to a stop, kicking up dust and squashing a bloated lizard under its tire. The shot pans up to reveal two women standing up in the vehicle, accompanied by a harried looking African guide.

Ms. Dyson! I tell you, you cannot do this! It is POACHING!

SHUT UP, FREDERICK! I’ll tell you what is and isn’t poaching. And remember, I’m paying you a handsome sum to be our guide. Madison Dyson squawks back.

Yeah! Frederick, SHUT UP! Says her companion, Governor and slavering puppy killer Kristi Noem. God I can’t wait to kill something.

Madison brings an expensive looking high powered hunting rifle to bear, and our perspective changes yet again such that we are now looking down the scope. The scope travels across the land, passing over numerous examples of flora and fauna until it finally comes to rest on…



….this sad, pathetic sight.

Kristi brings up her rifle, almost bonking Madison in the head with it in the process, and aims it in the direction of the desiccated lion. Look how weak and pathetic it is. Oh God…oh God… she bites her bottom lip and looks a little…erm…flushed. But suddenly, Madison bats Kristi’s rifle down and backhands her.

Cool your jets, woman! I haven’t even had a chance to use it as a metaphor for my opponent yet. Yeesh!

With Kristi significantly cowed, Madison turns to the camera wearing a devilish smile. Why yes, Centy, of COURSE this song is about you.. You are, after all, the man of the hour looking to crush his own career beneath the spinning wheels of progress. And what better representative of progress’ brutal nature, than, well…nature!

Take a look at this poor pathetic creature, Centurion. Count it’s jutting ribs, its sallow hanging flesh, it’s numbed, indifferent expression as it marches inexorably towards death. Yes, Centurion, this lion is, of course, YOU.

Now you might think I’m just going to be a bucket of insults, but I actually have something nice to say about you. Namely, you USED to be the pride of the XWF. Its mighty apex predator. The king of the proverbial jungle. Your resume was unquestioned. You had guys like Steve Jason, James Raven, and Lee Stone in your rolodex. You had more gold than you could shake a stick at.

But then you decided to come back. And you showed the world your belly. Oh sure, you started out fairly promising with that decent Hart title reign. But what has it been in the five years since then? Why, nothing but trolling around on Anarchy reinforcing your mid card bonafides again and again and AGAIN. And this from the man that Steve Jason himself referred to as a legend? Jesus you haven’t even won the XTreme championship, which is a feat I accomplished as a fucking MANAGER.

Madison shoots the camera a mocking sidelong glance.

A lot of people have been questioning why you seem so eager to sundown your career. But to me, it’s obvious. You know you’re that decaying lion over there. You know you’re not what you used to be. And it’s goddamn pathetic that it’s taken you FIVE YEARS to realize that. Five long years of your fucking Hospice ass career trotted out week after embarassing week.

But why now, Centurion? Why, after so many years of public humiliation, are you choosing to end it? Who the hell knows! Moreover, who cares. But what is clear is that the younger, stronger lions are coming to eat your face.

Kristi claps Madison on the shoulder excitedly. Madison, look, look!

Madison brings the rifle to bear again and looks down the scope to see a trio of younger lions approaching the starved senior lion. Madison leers at the macabre scene. Oh, this is gonna be good.

Ms. Dyson, just shoot the poor thing! It’s going to be ripped limb from limb!

Jesus Frederick, weren’t you just bitching about poaching? Get your shit together. Madison looks at the camera again. Centurion, I’m going to force you to watch this!

Again, the shot transitions to down the scope of the rifle. And what follows isn’t for the faint of heart. The young lions pounce on the older lion, and in a flash of blood and viscera flesh is torn from his decrepid frame, limbs are pulled from worn sockets, and his sagging face is ripped from his skull. All in all, its a scene that’s almost as painful as one of Sean Parker’s utterly generic promos.

You see that, Centy? That’s what happens to the old guard when it can’t keep up anymore. And make no mistake, you haven’t been able to keep up for a good long time.

Can I kill something nooooooooow? Kristi begs.

Madison rolls her eyes. Yeah, fine.

Breathlessly, Kristi brings her rifle to bear and starts popping off shots. With each one, she quivers orgasmically. You’re welcome for that mental image.

And the metaphor doesn’t end there. Because you see, just like these young lions getting obliterated by my O-facing governess friend here, even when you’re at the top of the food chain there’s still always someone meaner and deadlier. Which is why I’m not going to waste the bump from offing Centurion.

Oh no, because Sean Parker, once old man Centy is through, you’re the next one on the receiving end of a bullet between the eyes.

Kristi, panting and red faced, collapses into her seat in a state of post coital bliss.

And Cent, if you think this means I’m already looking past you, it’s because I am. You’re already in the rear view. Dead and buried. And as far as I’m concerned…

Madison smiles wickedly.

….it’ll be a mercy killing.