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Bad boys, bad boys, what ya gonna do? What ya gonna do when they come for you?


Indeed, even in the hurly-brawny, eccentric universe of expert wrestling, there are a ton of moderate news weeks. Weeks where wrestling essayists gaze blankly at their portable PC screens, noiselessly asking insiders like Dave Meltzer to break a story.

And afterward Jeff Hardy will be found on the top of his home stark stripped, secured in a suspicious white powder, yelling ill-use at the cops, and its diversion on all over again.*

 

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