The Ambassador is a big fucking liar.

I saw you, Ambassador. I saw you smoking that toxin plant! I saw you parading yourself around the PWK, inhaling the smoke of satan! I saw you and I... yes, I'll admit it... I cried. I cried because of all the people in the DCW, I thought you were above breaking the law. After all, you do go around carrying a bat that you call THE LAW! But it appears the law only applies to your enemies, doesn't it?. When it comes to old Ambassy-wassy, the law is bogus. Heck, you'll even attempt to warp the minds of your ignorant audience by explaining that oh, marijuana is only illegal because of racism and boohoo, i'm just supporting black people and promoting equality by puffing the magic dragon.

To any children who were unlucky enough to be watching this sick, perverted piece of television, I am here to tell you that "mary jane" is not illegal because of racism. It is illegal because it KILLS you. You want proof? Check out the 60's flower-power hippy superstars of music. They all smoked pot and where are they now?

John Lennon? Dead.

Janis Joplin? Dead.

Brian Wilson? He's only JUST recovered from his insanity.

Jimi Hendrix? Yeah, that evil racist government was trying to keep him down. No, they were trying to protect him from CHOKING ON HIS OWN VOMIT!

The Ambassador and his hypocrisy are a cancer to the DCW. He is a good guy and as such, should not be advocating drug use to our audience. He may enjoy hindered, stoner-vision, and as such be used to blurred lines, but I'm not! I want clearly defined faces and heels. CLEARLY DEFINED!

God. I am so disappointed.

I mean, you know who ELSE breaks the law and makes up excuses for it, Cannibassador? Pete Townshend, that's who! You heard about what he did on the internet, didn't you? Pfft. That deaf, dumb and blind kid got to play something, but I'm sure as shit that it wasn't pinball!

The Ambassador: A good guy? What a joke. If you're a fan of his, let me tell you something. Every time you cheer for the Ambassador, you're cheering for drugs and the moral decay of our society. You're cheering for Pete Townshend and in turn, you're cheering for child pornography.

Do you really want to be the kind of sicko who cheers for that?

Dallas, Texas. The night of Syndicated. The show concluded filming an hour ago and now Jamie is at a local bar. The Dive. That's not it's name, but that's what it is. Sitting at the bar, quietly taking in the words of the nimrods that surround, Jamie Krenshaw drinks beer through a straw.

JAMIE: (under his breath) I guess this explains Adam Young.

Enjoying his own company and soaking in the glorious feeling of knowing he's better than everyone within a hundred metre radius, Jamie is taken aback by a rude interruption. Two men wearing mullets and moustaches atop their tumor-like bodies. These men are native Texans. Bitterness over the confederate loss of the American civil war still pulses through their blood and reddens their neck, and the accumulated anger brought out by a thousand Klan rallies infects the air around them.

TEXAN 1: (in a grizzled, stereotypicial voice) You that wrestlur, Jamie Krenshaw?

Jamie sips from his beer and nods.

TEXAN 1: Answer me, baw-a.

Jamie rolls his eyes.

JAMIE: Yes, I'm Jamie Krenshaw. May I help you?

The second texan takes a step toward Jamie, standing over him in an attempt at intimidation.

TEXAN 2: We didn't like the way you beat our hometown hero.

JAMIE: Who? Kingpin?

TEXAN 1: Of course, Kingpin. Who'd you think we was talkin' about?

JAMIE: Well I thought the hero of Texas was George Dubya. You know, your President.

TEXAN 1: We can have more than one hero. Who says we can't?

TEXAN 2: You takin' the mickey out of us, baw-a?

Jamie grins and shakes his head.

JAMIE: Well, you know what they say. You can take the mickey out of Texas, but you can't take the Texas out of mickey.

The Texans look to each other, confused. It appears a well-practised routine.

TEXAN 2: What?

Jamie puts a hand up.

JAMIE: Don't worry. Slightly veiled insider joke. Anyway, why are you bothering me about Kingpin's loss? You should be happy I won. I'm Australian. Nowadays that makes me practically quarter-Texan. Don't you watch the news?

The Texans go over the well-practised routine again.

JAMIE: Well, if you did, you'd know that Australians are pretty much Americans with different accents. We go to wars, eat McDonalds and slavishly follow pop-culture, just like you guys.

TEXAN 1: Really?

JAMIE: Yeah. Hell, I'm probably more Texan than Kingpin. Did you see his promos this week? He's against the Christian right-wing.

TEXAN 2: No!

JAMIE: Yes.

The Texans again look at each other. They are quite disturbed. Both at the situation and in general.

TEXAN 1: I don't wanna cheer some fellur that doesn't even follow God properly! You know what, Jamie? I'm glad you beat his ass.

TEXAN 2: Yeah! Me too.

Jamie raises his glass to the men.

JAMIE: Cheers. I hope I can count on your support while I'm winning the Tag belts this week?

TEXAN 1: You know you can, buddy. If there's one thing us Texans are, it's loyal.

The idiocy of this comment isn't lost on Jamie, who grins sheepishly.

JAMIE: Great. Well, have a good night.

TEXAN 2: Yeah. You too.

As the two Texans walk off, we can still hear them chatting.

TEXAN 1: What a great guy.

TEXAN 2: A true hero of Texas.

Krenshaw looks down at his beer and takes another sip. His expression turns to one of complete disdain.

JAMIE: Idiots.