You Can’t See Me

you can't see me

It’s been a while.

Yeah, I know, it’s been a while. Been a loooong time since I have delved into the world I created, this induction thingamajobber that I created nearly ten years ago wherein I look at the stupidest things in pro wrestling, watching them and analyzing them for your (hoped) amusement and my (known) unending pain. But with a sore throat preventing me from doing a new WrestleCrap Radio this week, I thought it was time that I did an induction I started trying to do over 6 months ago.

And for that you can not only thank my failing voice box, but the Indianapolis Marion County Public Library.

Yes, the library. You know, the place where you can go borrow books, movies, and CDs without ever dropping a dime? Yeah, well back in March of this year, I saw something sitting on the shelf that I knew would make for a good induction. A little plastic jewel case with this peeking out:

Except it wasn’t shiny and pristine like that image. No, it was in a cracked case with library stickers and barcodes and crap all over it. Looked like this:

So I’ve had it in my laptop case for the last six months. I’ve done a lot of traveling for work in that time, and I’ve been a lot of places – New Orleans, Vegas, Scottsdale. And everytime I would get ready to head out, I would think to myself, “Ok, I really need to listen to that stupid CD and write the induction.”

But I never did.

And then…then the emails started.

Email after email from the library, telling me that the CD was due back. Undeterred, thinking I would get to it, I would dutifully renew it. No joke, I’ve renewed it nine times.


Seriously, here’s the proof if you don’t believe me. I can only think what the librarians must think of me for hoarding it for this long. No wonder I get those odd looks ever time I wander into the place.

So….let’s just get this thing done. But before we do, if you would allow me this disclaimer: I don’t hate John Cena. In fact, when he first showed up 7 years ago or whatever it was, I actually found him pretty amusing. Sure, he’s nothing more than a WWE shill these days, spitting up whatever idiotic buzzword the company wants to push in any given week and getting the masses to recite it. “WWE Universe”, anyone?

I also get that he is a merchandise machine for Vince & Linda, so it makes perfect sense that along with t-shirts and teddy bears and foam hands and whatever the heck else they can make out of fabric or foam, they’d want to do a rap CD with the guy. It’s a business, I get it. I can’t blame them for milking Cena.

(Note from Kelly: That’s an image I never need hear of, let alone see, again.)

Please, keep this knowledge in mind as you read the rest of this woefilled tale. I don’t hate Cena.

This CD, though?

Uh, yeah, that I hate.

The disc opens as you’d expect: with his The Time is Now entrance theme. That’s fine. While I can’t say it’s something I sing in the shower in the morning (Note from Kelly: another image I never need hear of, let alone see, again), it’s catchy and memorable.

When you hear it, you know who’s heading out. WWE needs more distinct music for their guys. This is different than everyone else’s on the roster, and that is a win.

And thus ends anything on this disc that can possibly be considered a “win.”

For next up, we get a heart-warming little toe tapper entitled Don’t Fuck With Us.

That’s decidely un-PG. Bet that wouldn’t pass Vince’s watchful eye these days.

And oh how I wish the WWE censors would have been in full force five years ago. The world could have peacefully existed without hearing a song that begins with what sounds like a siren from the first Metal Gear on the NES…

…and then a giant bull frog.

Or maybe it’s a fart. I lend credence to the latter, actually, as at one point, Cena begins rapping about various types of cheese.

No joke.

I dare say if John Cena spent the entire disc singing about food products, it would be a far more enjoyable listening experience.

Flow Easy is up next, a whirlwind adventure about shoe sizes and encounters with Jack Frost.


Ugh, Jack Frost. I remember reviewing that thing for Christmas a couple years back. I seriously have to question why I decided that torturing myself with horrible wrestling stuff wasn’t enough, so I started watching Christmas movies that sucked so I could write about them too.

By comparison, doing a goofball radio show dealing with a hobo, robots, decomposing old disc jockeys, and a guy who claims to be the world’s most irritated Jim Ross impersonator seems heaven by comparison.

Ever wanted to hear a Fisher Price piano in the world’s most annoying stereo mix? Then I’d suggest Right Now cueing for your next wedding, birthday, bar mitzvah, or wake!

(Note Warning from Kelly: Kids, do NOT listen to that clip with headphones on. Your brain may explode.)

Fat Albert and the Junkyard Band show up next, to perform Make It Loud.

Laugh if you will – when I hear that wonky horn going, I can just picture Dumb Donald blowing away.

Maybe it’s just me.

Just Another Day is a juxtaposition piece wherein Cena complains about his riches and fame while some poor schmoe bellyaches about not having a penny to his name.

This fascinating debate comes to a head when Cena says the old timers in the locker room are saying it’s not his time.

The loser guy? Apparently he has, and I am quoting here, “Nacho Grime.”

Man, I don’t even think they sell that on the value menu at Taco Bell. I’ll have to ask Blade if they have that at Taco Tico the next time I talk to him.

Oh, and that doofus doing the non-battle rap with Cena in the last song? Apparently that’s Tha Trademarc, who is Cena’s cousin or something. Please please please, don’t email me the details. If I’m not even up for Googling the information, I’m certainly going to put forth the mental energy to read 57 emails about him.

I mention this only because in the next song, Summer Flings, we get Cena telling us about his “white chocolate” and some girl singing about how she wants to take him home. Ah, romance is in the air.

Well, until third wheel Trademarc starts in, be-boppin’ in a fashion that…how do I put this nicely?

I can’t, so I will just say that if Scooter from the Muppets ever decided to rap, Trademarc would be the perfect voice for him.

Oh, and I never want white chocolate again. Thanks a lot, jerks!

Oh, and in case you didn’t pick up that this CD isn’t for kids, we get Keep Frontin’, in which Cena tells us he “fucks like a fiend with three dicks.”

I’m no doctor, John, but I think if I had that malady, I’d be heading to a clinic, not bragging about it.

The Fisher Price piano returns in We Didn’t Want You To Know. I’d comment further on the song, but I couldn’t get past the first 30 seconds, which consisted of exactly four notes, which were then repeated in reverse.

Oh, and the less said about Bad, Bad Man, the better.

Sorry, even I have my limits.

(Note from Blade: Wimp. Check out this week’s It Came From YouTube! to see what RD missed.)

Running Game follows those disasters, and if Cena’s potty mouth and tales of ribaldry weren’t enough to have parents rooting through their kids’ rooms to ensure this disc wasn’t on their iPods, we get over the top violence.

And when I say “over the top violence”, I am talking about dojos in which you get your throat slit.

I don’t think even Kreese was that much of a scumbag.

(Note from Kelly: Well, I don’t know. His star pupil lost to a one-legged kid jumping in the air like a bird. Can’t really say I would blame him for brandishing a bowie.)

An homage to Cena’s home town of Boston is up next in the form of Beantown, as he sings about Tom Brady and David Ortiz and a pot of soup.

Or something.

I don’t know.

Please tell me I can quit listening to this.


I mean, come on…how many songs are on this thing? This next one is song 13. THIRTEEN SONGS, and there are, no joke, FOUR MORE AFTER THIS.

This one is This is How We Roll, which sounds like some horrible Hannah Montana direct-to-DVD disaster.

I’m running out of ways to describe how bad this thing is. Remember in This is Spinal Tap when they got their review for Shark Sandwich and it was just a two word review, that being “shit sandwich”?

Cena actually raps those two words here.


What Now is a tale of two songs.

The first song, which lasts about two minutes, is a horrible song which doesn’t feature John Cena.

The second song, which lasts about two minutes, does feature John Cena.

So it’s a lose-lose proposition.


And now…now I get someone laughing at me?

Well, screw you, Know the Rep.

You can fill up this 250×180 pixel text box on your own!

Ok, time out. What kind of disc is this on? It cannot possibly be a CD. Can’t be. For general commercial distribution, those have a limit of 74 minutes. This thing…it has to be at the three hour mark already as we get Chain Gang is in the Click.

Or maybe it’s clink.

Yeah, I’m going to say it’s clink.

No, better yet – Klink.

That’s the only way I can make it through this. Help me, Colonel Klink!


And mercifully, thank you, Lord, MERCIFULLY ends with If It All Ended Tomorrow, in which we get a philosophical discussion of what would happen indeed, if it all ended tomorrow?

If it all ended tomorrow? What would I do?

I’d return this disc to the library tonight.

Last thing I’d want is to have Mrs. Deal paying late fees for a John Cena CD.

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