I’d like to apologize for encouraging Sofa to watch Paranoid Agent, or Paranoia Agent, or whatever God’s (Shinto God’s) gift to cynical anime nerds is called. Though I still think it was funny when Lil’ Slugger stopped to check on his handiwork, and the guy got up and Lil’ Slugger was like OH SHIT!
SAILOR MOON: Ok, so, I was watching that AFI 100 Best Lines in American movies thing, and in the back of my head I was mulling over what bloggish crap to put in the opening of the rebeak. And I was thinking, well, I really didn’t see anything Trek related, so that’s a wash. And I saw a little bit of Sailor Moon, but nothing was really standing out. Mini-Moon’s first few appearances as a Scout are her best stuff in the whole series because of her useless, comic-relief Pink Sugar Heart Attack. And at one point, Serena mentions Chad (not appearing in that episode’s) rock star status in an incredibly rare example of Cloverway paying attention to Dic’s dub of the first two seasons (Cloverway would later forget Amy was given the last name “Anderson” and start calling her “Amy Mizuno.”) But anyway, nothing was grabbing me and saying “hey, use me to fill a big fat paragraph everyone can comfortably skip to open your rebeak.” Nothing was promising to provide for the run-on sentences and needless verbiage I’ve accidentally gotten by discussing my lack of ideas. But anyway, yeah, I was watching the AFI special on neat things people have said in movies. And the Best Line Evar is from Gone With The Wind, and comes right after Scarlet O’Hara says, “Rhett, Rhett...Rhett, if you go, where shall I go? What shall I do?” And Rhett Butler (the morbidly obese Rainbow Crystal carrying cat) says, “Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.” So, having already been mulling my favorite crappy girl’s anime over in my mind, I picture Raye in period costume, all weepy because Grandpa is dead and them damn Yankees are somehow going to take away the Cherry Hill Temple, and Chad has finally had enough and is walking out the door. And she does the “what shall I do” line, and he does the “don’t give a damn” line, and walks out. Leaving her to swear that with God (or Captain Shinto) as her witness, she’ll never go hungry again. Which is hard to believe considering how anorexic all the Scouts look. But it was mildly disturbing how perfectly I was able to see all this in my mind’s eye. The only thing I couldn’t rectify was Clark Gable’s slicked back hairdo and Chad’s White/Asian boy modified Buckwheat cut.
Hey, maybe Deimos and Phobos (the ravens [what about them, what about ravens]) can each get a circle drawn around one eye, which they then cover with their claws when Chad loses at marbles.
Oh, and I also learned that I got the line from On The Waterfront wrong. The “contender” speech is littered with Charlies, but not where I put one in that throwaway a few weeks ago. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.
All right, time to get going, because I got about a week behind in my online Precalculus class when I lost net access last week and I really can’t afford the time to write this anyway. But believe you me, however much we sometimes bitch about rebeaking being a chore, it is way more fun than proving Trigonometric identities.
The intro now includes screaming Kurt, screaming Cena, Chris Masters choking Val out, and Victoria Widow’s Peaking Christy.
Whoever said the guy screaming at the start of Cena’s theme seems to be saying “Yabba Dabba Doo” is totally right. The show begins with BY THE COURTESY OF JOHN’S TWO FEET coming out for whatever. I could never have made that joke if Zach Gowan was WWE champion. Zack Gowen, I mean. Skip it. Zachary, of course, would have to hop it. On the good foot. Remember how far we had to stretch this stuff back when he was around? Now we can trot it out on our terms. It’s a good time to be alive, my friends. Oh, and, um, people who don’t write recaps, too. John Cena threatens to knock my shell off. Shades of Mario. Surely Mideon has made that joke somewhere. Lillian: “John, Ceeeena!” Better than Jooooohn, but just barely. JR: “Bidness!” JR, later: “John Cena being punished!” Hey, they took him off Smackdown, didn’t they? Cena says a bunch of shit I don’t care about, concerning how he will kick Chris Jericho’s ass. He calls Jericho out. Oh, and Christian. Cena: “I feel a little saucy!” Saucy anklebiter. He quotes the even stupider of the two Steiner Brothers. JR: “Cena can’t make it any more clearer than this!” STEINERIZ’D! I MEAN, HASSAN’D! invade. JR: “It’s not Chris Jericho or Christian unless they’re wearing a helluva disguise!” Hahaha. This reminds me, Supes was telling me that when he and Dadshaw were at the F1 American Grand Prix (A FRAUD!) there was this guy who was talking during the national anthem (it should be noted that as loud as they were booing, the crowd did quiet down for the national anthems of the winning driver’s home country and the winning constructor’s home country.) But yeah, this guy was talking, and somebody shushed him, and his response was to say “I’m an Arab” and then go back to his conversation. Well sheeit, boy. I’d shut my mouth during the anthem, and when amongst racing fans, keep that “I’m an Arab” thing under my hat if I was him. Under my towel. Hassan takes his time, so we get to the second orgasm before the music cuts out. Man, that guy is a MACHINE! Hassan says Cena is a typical American, “bitching and complaining with nothing to complain about!” Amen. Um, Allah Be Praised. Yeah, I’ve used that already, shut up. Hassan gives us his normal spiel about being persecuted, adding on that he got screwed out of the IC title last week. Cena makes jokes about Hassan and Daivari engaging in the gay sexings. Cena: “Yo homey, give it up, it’s old.” Hahaha, John Cena is telling someone how stale their act is. Beautiful. Cena: “You come out here and you talk about how everybody hates on you cause you an Arab American. Bro, this is chaingang, I don’t care if you white, black, red, yellow, whatever, we all in this together.” But no wetbacks. Cena: “These people don’t hate you cause you Arab American, they hate you cause you *mute.*” Asshole American, I assume. Anyway, Cena wants to fight Hassan, TONIGHT! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO CHANGE INTO MY GRAND NEGIS MINISTER OF THE PEACE OUTFIT invades. He says Cena may be used to having a “glorified babysitter” on Smackdown who let the inmates run the asylum, but on RAW, Bischoff is the boss. Cena doesn’t get to make his own matches. Then he announces Cena vs Hassan tonight, WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT CENA WANTED. I guess Cena hadn’t mentioned putting the title up, but it’s not like a babyface is allowed to refuse. Cena wants the match to be now. Hassan says he has to go do some Muslim ritual. Probably involves sacrificing sheep or something. Them crazy Arabs. From Michigan. Daivari talks wacky foreign talk, so Cena clotheslines him out of the ring and thus activates his music. John Cena is the winner of this interview.
Commercials. Eight-nineday-niiiiine!
The Clearasil Zitty Kids of the Week are Kane, Lita and Edge.
I like how neither Edge nor Lita have last names on their wedding announcement. Now DAMN IT, WHEN AM I GONNA HAVE A CHANCE TO CHANGE INTO MY NEGIS COSTUME? is in the ring, flapping his jaws about how awesome the new draft pick he’s about to announce is. So far, Randy Orton’s departure from RAW is really the one piece of good news to come from all this draft nonsense. Yo ho ho, one piece of good news, on the Grand Liiiiine. Graaaaand Line is a misnomer, though I was the one who originally misquoted the song and I take full responsibility for any harm I may have caused. But yeah, I don’t like Randy, or the lengthy, boring-ass matches he always has since WWE Creative has such a hard-on for him. I could probably have made myself like him with a forced connection to anime. Wait, his middle initial is K, right? As in RKO? Maybe it’s for Kumada. Hey, nothing you can say, is gonna make me stop trying to date Raye! Always on my mind, she hit me with a broom one tiiiime. Ok, you gotta sing that last phrase really fast. I probably spent enough time discussing the Cherry Hill Posse at the beginning of this beak, so I’ll stop now. Eric is all hopped up about the pick, but inexplicably throws on his diaphanous white gown, his blue skirt, and waves about his femmy wand to summon THEY CALL ME MISTER TIBBS GOT ROBBED BY THE AFI, MAN. Why is Shelton here? Surely, if the draft pick was Haas, Bischoff wouldn’t be so excited. Lawler tries to talk about how he was skeptical of Benjamin and his “past record,” but grew to love the kid, but JR’s righteous indignation cuts Lawler off. JR: “He was an amateur All-American at the University of Minnesota, now you’re the one that should be talking about a shaky background!” Lawler (surprisingly unfazed, I must say:) “He was also an honor student, saying ‘Yes your honor’ and ‘no your honor.’” HAHAHAHA. You know, you can say a lot of mean things about Jerry Lawler, but he always brings the funny. Hot new lines every week, week in, week out. If only Benoit were hear to lie through his tooth. Bischoff talks and talks and talks, beating around the bush with a declaration that Shelton will defend against the mystery draft pick tonight. Shelton grabs the mic to shut Bisch up (and prevent “another boring Eric Bischoff speech,”) and asks that the new pick be introduced. And it’s…holy shit, it’s I SPIT IN THE FACE, OF PEOPLE, WHO HAVE TO WATCH SMACKDOWN. I am so, so sorry Sofa. Maybe we can switch back or something. I mean, this just seems unfair. He was really all Smackdown had, what with the Cabinet falling apart. I could cruise by on Mercury jokes. Sure, our readers would suffer, but…anyway, motherfucking Carlito, bitches. He has, of course, the fucking coolest smile in the world on his face as he makes his leisurely way to the ring. JR calls him a “second-generation superstar.” Were any other commentators allowed to mention that, or was that reserved to be a JR exclusive? Lawler makes jokes about the hair, causing JR to mention Lawler’s “follicular problems.” Oh man, what if Carlito wins? He won the US Title against a shitty guy in his Smackdown debut, so let’s see if he can win the IC Title against someone who doesn’t fucking suck. It is for the title. I mean, he has to win, right? Otherwise, no interview, and they can’t have Carlito get no mic-time on his first RAW. The logo on Carlito’s trunks always reminds me of when spells are reflected off enemies in FF3/6. So try to use spells like Ultima and Merton that can’t be reflected. Carlito kicks away to start. Punching away in the corner, but Shelton fires back. Carlito whipped to the ropes, but he grabs the ropes and bails. Carlito rests, then comes in, and…gets sent to the ropes, and into a back elbow. He responds by rolling to the floor to rest more. Zybysco Zaribbean Zool. Shelton tries for a no-hands plancha, but his feet catch the top rope and completely fuck-up his trajectory. Carlito had his arms stretched out in front of him, but Shelton barely made contact.
Commercials. Boost mobile. It’s funny when old people say hip-hop stuff.
We’re back, and Carlito has a Ninja Chokeout on, in the ring. We get a replay of Shelton killing himself, and cut back to Shelton fighting out of the chokeout, only to be kicked in the gut and met with a kneelift. Carlito covers for 2 a few times. Punches. Cool punches. Carlito gives the camera a look, and covers for 2 again. Front chancery by Carlito. Shelton gets to his feet and punches out. Run-aroundy spot, which I always want to call a “duck-under jump-over whooptie-doo session” in honor of my brother’s brief rebeaking career, but no one jumped here. It ends with a double-clothesline. Both men slow to rise, but Shelton wins the slugfest. He does a bunch of clotheslines and shit. Back body drop on Carlito. JR: “He was high enough to be cool up there!” Everything’s cool when you’re C-C-C. Shelton goes up, but Carlito recovers and crotches him. Crotchito. He wants a superplex, but Shelton fights him off. He even headbutts Carlito, which works surprisingly well. Carlito down, Shelton a bit woozy up there, but he gets the top-rope clothesline to connect for 2. Shelton looking for the Exploder, but Carlito elbows out. Carlito looking for the DDT (was that his finisher at some point? I have a soft-spot for anyone with a DDT finisher) but Shelton rams him into the corner, and gets a Northern Lights Suplex for 2. Shelton kicks away, but Carlito reverses a whip into a kick and a DDT. He points to his head to indicate fro-ocity, then covers. Shelton barely gets his shoulder up. Carlito trying for…it looks like he’s trying for the Stroke, but Shelton blocks and rolls him up for a loooong 2. Shelton with a kick, a punch, and a whip to the corner. Stingar Splash...dodged, but Shelton catches himself on the second rope! He comes flying out of there for a super sunset flip and another long 2. This isn’t quite Shelton/HBK, but the kid can work a damned good match. The stunned Carlito wanders right into a Samoan Drop. He covers for 2, and JR goes off about how Shelton is too hurt to cover properly. He throws forearms at Carlito’s back (um, Shelton, not JR) and gets a rear-waistlock. Trying…I dunno, Carlito rolls through and sits on him…hand on the ropes…CARLITO GETS 3! And immediately rolls out of the ring, hahaha! I love it, he knows he was fucked, and he knows he stole the belt. But by the time he’s on the apron with the belt on his shoulders, he’s all smiles and shrugs. Like he never had any doubt. How can you not love Carlito?
Commercials. The Wedding Crashers are ruining the Rules of Acquisition for me.
ON THIS DAY, I SEE CLEARLY, WITH MY GIANT BEADY EYES checks himself in the mirror. He pretend punches his jaw. How Michaelsesque.
Hey, check it out, GHETTO SUPERSTAR, THAT IS WHAT HE IS is Billy Graham. I loved him as the hero of the first two King’s Quest games.
MAYBE I’M ALLERGIC TO VITAMIN C is wandering the backstage with his new title belt when MAYBE I’M ALLERGIC TO HEADLIGHTS. Carlito checks out her ass. Maria: “Carlito, you just ended Shelton Benjamin’s amazing championship reign! How’d you do it?” JR: “How’d you do it?” Carlito: “How’d I do it? I pinned him 1, 2, 3! Go get Carlito an apple.” He referred to himself in the first person. She threw him off with her question. And she leaves to get him an apple. Nice. Carlito goes on to remind of that he won a title on his first Smackdown, and to promise he’s going to be the greatest intercontinental champion of all time. Red hot Carlito vs Honky Tonk Man feud coming up. Maria returns, and gives him the apple. He bites, he chews, he thinks it over, and he spits it on her. Now, it completely works that Maria is stupid enough to give him the apple and just wait for him to spit it, but what I find hilarious is that JR and Lawler are both SHOCKED when the guy whose gimmick is spitting apples on people spits apples on someone.
This reminds me of (sadly) one of my proudest moments, when I was in the crowd at a Smackdown taping and Carlito bit into an apple, and I screamed “WATCH OUT! HE’S GOING TO SPIT APPLE AT YOU!” at the top of my lungs. I’m quite the idiot, you know. I should have brought a sign that said “Poor table manners aren’t cool, Carlito.”
VISAGRA comes to the ring in a ridiculous smoking jacket. More like a smoking tent. Lillian gets camera time when she announces him, but no nickname from JG. Go get JG an apple. SHOCKINGLY OVERLOOKED BY BISCHOFF’S ANTI-ECW ARMY is…um, a really lame Simon Dean nickname. Maybe I’ll think of something better later. Anyway, Simon is shocked by Viscera’s fatness. And assness. Simon Dean: “Who do you think you are, Huge Heffner?” Vis is referred to as “fatter than Charles Barkley.” Fatter than Barclay. Barclay’s Cheesefriesmorphosis Syndrome. JR: “Charles Barkley is a friend of ours!” Anyway, Viscera slaps him and stuff. JR: “I tell ya this, Big Vis, the five-hundred pound love machine, is not gonna give Simon Dean any rides, on the Love Train.” And that’s a bad thing? Anyway, Simon gets whipped back and forth into the buckles, but eventually starts kicking at Vis’ legs. He wanders into a deadly, deadly slap. He wanders into Vis’ “fall the fuck over and kinda stick my foot out” kick. Vis with a splash. Now he defies JR and gives Simon a free ride on the Love Train. The Visagra. There’s the Embalmer. JR: “The Viscera Driver!” No, that’s something else. Vis calls Lillian into the ring. Lillian has the mic. She says that they’re relationship can move even faster in Vegas. Then she makes bad puns about “getting lucky” and “hitting the jackpot.” Oh man, I thought she was gonna propose. More wrestling weddings! Wee!
Diva Search crap. Mostly vapid blondes. They eventually get around to playing the “to be yourself is all that you can do” song. Pink Floyd had a similar thought when they sang, “all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be.” Depressing stuff. If I ever decide, “Hey JG, why not kill yourself while listening to music?” the irony is I’d probably choose Audioslave to listen to. To stop me from wimping out when it’s time to kick the chair out from under me. To kick my leg out of my leg. TO DEATH.
Next week, the finalists will be revealed. I thought that was this week? Not that I’m complaining.
Commercials. Sometimes, when you’re really drunk or whacked out on drugs or have a urinary infection, to pee yourself is all that you can do.
AM I PHOTGRAPHING THE GHOST OF MR PERFECT OR LILLIAN GARCIA? YOU MAKE THE CALL! tries to interview SHELTON SHELTON CENA CENA, IS A LITTLE BITCH. Jericho whines about not having had a 1 on 1 World Title match in three years. I mean, how many times does he have to beat Grenier to prove himself? Jericho talks about Fozzy for some reason, but I’VE SEEN ALL GOOD PEEPLE TURN THEIR HEADS EACH DAY SO SATISFIED I’M ON MY WAY invades. Christian says everyone is overlooking him, but while those two idiots worry about their record sales, he’s gonna take the gold. Christian: “And before I go, I got news for both you, and Cena. Both you, and your albums, SUCK.” Thank you.
Lawler: “Captain Charisma, he tells it like it is!” Hahaha. Be careful what you say there, Jerry. You’re not allowed to think Cena’s album sucks.
If one member of the E&C Dynasty had to cheat on their wife with another wrestler’s girlfriend, I guess it’s a good thing it was Edge. I’d hate to feel morally obligated not to get behind Christian.
Ah, a Triple H montage. That’s guilt-free fast-forwarding right there. I mean, I don’t feel “guilty,” exactly, when I give stuff short-shrift, but…oh great, now I’m not actually saving time. It’s your fault. Quit looking at me like that.
AH, FINALLY I CAN SLIP INTO MY NEGIS OUTFI…DAMN IT! is interrupted in his office/dressing room/whatever by BANNED FROM THE PETTING ZOO. Kurt Angle. Duh. Listen, the WWE writers may have forgotten that he expressed a desire to have sex with animals, but we don’t let that kind of thing go. Vince can go years without pooping himself, but we’ll remember. Anyway, Kurt says a bunch of nothing, then says he’s going to dedicate his win at Vengeance to a general manager he respects. “I can call you Eric, right?” Angle is far more respectful than that thug John Cena. Ooh, ooh, here’s an idea! Let’s send all of Smackdown’s main eventers to RAW, and have them feud with each other there! Kurt and Eric glad-hand. Yeah, Kurt is a heel, we know.
Wedding time. I was really excited about Billy and Chuck. I had moderate expectations for Kane and Lita which were met by the cello-remix of Kane’s theme. And back when they did Test and Stephanie, it had been so long since we’d had a wedding, I was even excited about that. This…not so much.
Commercials. Nevermind. I thought it was starting. This week on Casino Cinema, our hosts have a friend of there’s (as opposed to a non-celebrity friend of a celebrity) hanging out. We don’t even see them in the ad, unless that’s his hand dealing a card. I feel bad for Casino Cinema at this point.
Ok, we’re here with NOT VINCE MCMAHON’S PRIEST. Today I helped this really annoying lady who basically wanted me to make a collage for her (we don’t do second grade craft-projects for people, though there’s a place we outsource to that will do that level of bullshit work for insanely high prices) and it involved copying some pictures of a hat the late Pope John-Paul II gave to…some guy who…gave it to some other guy who let the local Catholic church display it this one time. And I was all polite and I did my job and at one point she said “You just don’t understand how much John-Paul meant to us Catholics.” I guess she assumed I wasn’t Catholic because I didn’t shit a brick over a hat I’m not entirely sure the late pontiff even wore. It was one of those silky, sexy monk caps, so maybe he did. But it wasn’t like an actual miter or anything. Then I’d have been hopping about screaming in Latin. You know, going ORALE ESSE VATO! Cause I’m Latin. BEADY BEADY BEADY, HERE’S THE DAPPER GROOM comes out wearing this goofy black leather outfit with a hat and jaunty walking stick. It looks like something Rob Zombie would wear, which…isn’t exactly out of character for Edge. A closer look reveals Edge is wearing a black coat, black vest, black tie, white cuffs and collar, and a hat with a skull-and-crossbones on it. He’s getting married on the Grand Liiiiiiine. Now HERE COMES THE SKANK, ALL DRESSED IN CANK(ERS.) I always though Lita would marry her old boyfriend Freddie. After threatening him with electrocution if he tried to back out. And all characters I associate with Sailor Moon should get married in this goofy-ass fake church from an early Serena dream-sequence that has this ornate, plate-glass window picture of cute little fuzzy wabbits. And nary a cross to be found, of course. Lita, by the way, is wearing a white dress that reveals quite a bit and almost certainly involves hidden duct-tape. Lawler: “She’s literally pouring her heart out!” ZING! What did I say about Jerry and the hot, fresh donuts? I mean, jokes? JR: “And her shoulder tattoo matches her shoes.” Hahaha. Every so often JR makes me not hate him for a moment. Like all WWE priests, this guy appears to notice nothing unusual about the situation. And he can’t get his lines right. “We are gathered here today, in the eyes of God, here to celebrate between Edge and Lita!” They need to move further apart if we’re all gonna fit in there. The fans chant “We Want Matt.” The priest mangles the introduction of some stupid Edge/Lita montage. Where are the shots of Edge and Christian conchairtoing her? Back in the dizzay. This montage of their love features an unusually high number of Kane reaction shits and toilet noises. “And now, and now that we’ve seen their love represented in a visual form, Edge and Lita wanted to say, and…and…express their love in a spoken word.” Syphilicous. I’d hate to hear this guy wrestle with “hallowed.” “And as I understand there’s a very large, rather unusual looking man who insisted on coming down here, and saying something.” You know, even if one of the well-wishers is large and unusual looking, Priests generally steer clear of pointing it out. Anyway, Edge and Lita act pretend scared, but the guest is, in fact, IF YOU GUYS CAN’T BE CAREFUL, NAME IT AFTER ME SO I’LL BE SLIGHTLY LESS LIKELY TO MURDER IT. Snitski comes out in an armless tuxedo, and gives the happy couple a thumbs-up. Snitski has a few words for us all, a special passage entitled “It’s Not My Fault.”
It’s not my fault you fell in love
It’s not my fault it came from above
It’s not my fault Edge and Lita chose this direction
It’s not my fault Kane can’t get an erection
It’s not my fault the things that love can do to us
Just like it’s not my fault you had a dead baby in your uterus.
And that, was a poem, by Heiden…no, no. Sorry. Anyway, wow Snitski, awesome much? I mean, the worst kind of awesome, but still awesome. Edge looks a little disturbed by that last line. The priest says it’s time for Edge and Lita to “perplain” their love and commitment to each other. Edge’s vows include the phrase “money in the sack.” “BORING” chant. Priest: “Ok, ok! Lita!” Hahaha, that cracks me up somehow. Lita pauses for a “slut” chant. Shockingly, she spends valuable wedding vow verbiage on Kane. Then she says something about being a slut, so the (absolutely beyond-awful) actor playing the Priest does a “shocked” face. So, anyway, we get to the “if anybody has a problem with this wedding” part, and they play Matt Hardy’s music. Which I marked out for at the time, but as we all know by now was a SHOCKING DOUBLE SWERVE because he wasn’t there and it was all a heel trick. Sigh. All right, you can book for smarks or you can book for marks, but what purpose does it serve to jerk smarks around like that? And people are claiming this was a test to see what kind of reaction Hardy’s return would get, but if that’s true, they just seriously undercut how much it will mean if Hardy really does return. And it completely undercuts the already shitty Kane/Edge feud because you just reinforced the fact that any real dramatic feud is the one pitting Edge against Matt, and that Kane is just deadweight. Blah. Anyway, Edge says he “couldn’t resist” and promises to explain things to the padre later. The priest goes on to talk about the power vested in him by God and his long-haired hippie son, but wackily yells “JESUS CHRIST” when THROUGH STYROFOAM PAINTED TO LOOK LIKE FLOOR MOLDING IT’S KANE invades by ripping a hole through the Styrofoam floor. JR says he came “from the depths of Hell,” and I can see comparing the heart of this wedding sketch to the depths of Hell. Anyway, Edge eventually helps Lita escape by pushing the priest at Kane. Edge and Lita are SHOCKED that Kane invaded. Kane kicks over chunks of the cheap-ass set. JR: “Kane is destroying this wedding chapel!” Yeah, lots of people got married here. The priest is still lying there. He kindly helps up the frightened priest. How very nice of him. He pats him on the shoulder. I guess even Satards have respect for the clergy OMG HE CHOKESLAMS THE PRIEST I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! OH WAIT HE TOMBSTONES HIM NEVERMIND TAKER MADE ME FORGET KANE CAN STILL DO THAT MOVE RIGHT. JR: “The Gates of Hell have been opened!” I agree.
Normally, I’d really enjoy a Satanic retard tombstoning a priest, and yet, this left a sour taste in my mouth. How Scott Friedian.
Commercials. Impossibly the #2 guy at Crazy John’s Tire House and Rims is an even worse performer than John. It doesn’t help that he’s trying not to laugh at his boss for half of the ad.
Moments ago, I longed for a run-in by Rosey and Jamal. Lawler thinks Kane was down there for a week. Down in that set they built during that glut of backstage segments. JR: “A Papal Piledriver!” Yeah, because Kane is the Pope. Shut the fuck up, all of you. Lawler: “Kane will be excommunicated for this!” He’s no Catholic. He’d be all hopped up about that one hat if he was.
Backstage, GOD BLESS BILLY THE KID, KID says like one word before POPE SATARD XXVIII chokes him a bit and steals his microphone. Probably figured he was going to brag about his WWE Fantasy Team. Yeah, if General Managers were randomly allowed to change their rosters every week, that game might make sense. Drafting people with Sailor Moon connections and rounding things out with Carlito and Fifi makes far more sense. Anyway, Kane says “I’m back” and gets a face-pop by not acting like a weepy bitch for a change.
Lawler gets through reading a Burger King bumper ad without any nasty flashbacks to when a crowd forgot to chant Burger King at him.
WHORE is interviewed by BORE. Wow, sometimes, I surprise even myself with my sheer cleverness. Todd shows Christy footage of Victoria murdering her, then footage of Victoria having to job out to her spazz attacks. Christy yells and acts retarded before UP ON WIDOW’S PEAK, SHE LEFT ME attacks from behind and breaks a sugar-glass…something on Christ’s head. Nice. The fans want to cheer, but can’t bring themselves to. Christy is out. Todd feels the back of Christy’s head, and we see red all over his fingers. Does this mean…she’s not a natural red-head?
Commercials. The WWE is touring the far east again. They can’t expect to get the incredible attendance figures their once every five years shows got if they go every year, can they? Anyway, there’s gonna be a show in South Korea. I can’t wait to see John Cena going “Where my dogs at?” and being greeted with a bunch of burps.
Sorry.
Here’s a replay of Victoria murdering Christy. Now EMT’s check Christy. They ask her what her name is, if she knows what day of the week it is, and if she knows where she’s at (I’d have gone with where she is, but hey.) She can’t answer, which…well, I guess that would give them valuable medical information if only she could answer puzzlers like that under normal circumstances.
LET’S TRY KEEPING OUR ARABNESS/PERSIANNESS/WHATEVER UNDER OUR TOWELS (w/EGGREGTREHGRTHRTHRHB, MUHAMMAD!) are here. Oh goodness. Some little kid has a hand-drawn anti-Hassan sign, black marker on white paper (with no effort to fatten the letters and make them readable. It takes a camera close-up and a VCR freeze-frame (I sometimes wonder just how bad the other signs are when something like this nets a close-up) for me to read it. “SHUT UP DAIVARI. 7.11 NowHiring Muhammad and Davari Hassan.” The kid barely fit in Hiring, much less had space to make it a separate word from Now. And Hassan truthfully went under Muhammad, but was clearly added at the last second. Not quite up there with that immortal Kiebler sign, but at least this one is racist. And being held up by a small child. Wait, here’s another child with a “YOU SUCK!” sign. Clearly intended for Hassan. Someone call nik or SSS and ask them what happened to all the southwest’s racism. Today, if I might get off track again, some segment on the news had me piecing together what I know about the peoples of the Middle East. I think Kurds are an ethnic group, and not a religious group. I think. I know Sunni and Shi’ite are types of Muslims as opposed to ethnic groups. You’ve got Arabs and Persians, and…somebody else. Man, I really don’t know who else I thought there was. I don’t mean the Israelis. Maybe I’m dreaming up ethnic groups again. I know Pakistan isn’t south of Iran, though. Maybe it really is best just to think of all of them as working at 7-11. You know, for simplicity’s sake. Wow, that departure may go longer than this match. I hope so, because I’d hate to guess who out of these two is expected to carry whom to a watchable title match. The odds I used who and whom correctly there? About 50/50. Here’s the retardo-belt graphic. IF I LOSE MY TITLE TO KANE, IT WILL BE THE SATARDO BELT comes out. When he goes to 7-11, he gets mayonnaise on his hot dogs. And he gets vanilla flavored Slurpees. If such a thing exists. Which it does not. Circling, Hassan sent to the ropes, hopping around occurs, and Cena gets a shoulderblock. Hassan clotheslined to the floor. Cena follows him out, and knocks Daivari into Hassan. Hassan sent in, Daivari distracts Cena for just a second, and Hassan stomps away as Cena comes back in. More stomping from Hassan. A few covers for 2. More punches. This match is already making me feel a little less sympathy for Sofa. Daivari provides more action wailing on the mat than Hassan does. Hassan with a suplex for 2. Cena starts punching again. There’s a clothesline. JR: “His fists, his head, his feet, everything’s a weapon on John Cena!” Don’t forget his music! Hassan sent to the ropes, armdrag. Cena gets that one move JR thought was a powerbomb. This week, it’s “the high impact.” YCSM. Daivari gets knocked off the apron. He brushes off his shoulder before the 5KS, which means Hassan lay perfectly still through 2 complete and separate taunts waiting to be hit with a fucking fist drop. Cena pumps up the shoes. Hassan rises. F-U. And…that’s it. Christ, Rene Dupree generally got more offense in than “undefeated” Muhammad Hassan. And Hulk Hogan generally showed a greater variety of wrestling maneuvers in his prime. JR: “No questions asked, about John Cena and his F-U!” I might ask how he came up with that name and listen to the embarrassed pause that followed. REMEMBER WHEN I STOLE TRISH FROM YOU and SCREW THAT, YOU SAID MY ALBUMS SUCK both attack Cena from behind, working together like a well-oiled machine. A cohesive unit. Like the writers keep forgetting they’re not. Eventually they get in each other’s faces a little.
Eww, you can reword that slightly and get “well-oiled unit.”
Commercials. Hey, check it out, there’s a Star Wars movie in theaters!
Here’s Christian, yelling at Stacey and…somebody as he leaves. Well, that was nothing, so let’s go to…
Diva Search crap. No. I stop fastforwarding just long enough to notice that “Elisabeth” spells her name wrong. No, spellcheck, that is not acceptable. Underline that shit in red RIGHT NOW. Oh God, please don’t make the one with the baseball cap on backwards and the hand-signs win. Poochiesque. She’s the sex-for-cash hooker, from Prostitute City.
Here’s a rundown of the Vengeance card. Carlito has to defend against Shelton. Huh? What did he do to earn a shot? We will also see Christian vs a bug in Cena’s hair, with special guest referee Chris Jericho. Kane will apparently take on Edge and Lita. HBK and Kurt will “get it awn ageen” according to JR. Christy and Victoria get color for some reason. Triple H will attempt to jack Batista’s pretend car. Jack.
FLIRT SPANIEL comes out for the main event. JR: “Slobberknocker! One on one! Next!” Having already seen this, I know two of those three promises are lies.
Commercials. “This summer, the world of the living will become the land of the dead.” The Midwest HOHOHOHO ZINGA!
MUSIC TO ANNOY THE SAVAGE BEAST has stupid music now. JR: “He is a big stud, no doubt about it!” Down boy! Fan sign: “BATISTABOMB.” What about, Batistabomb? Our commentators go on about Triple H never losing at Hell in the Cell. Didn’t he lose in that proto-Elimination Chamber match that had everyone in the world in it, including Rikishi’s retarded bump off the cell into a truck full of hay? All right, they lock up. Angle goes behind, but his head is elbowed off. Batista works him into the corner and does shoulderblocks. Big-time Papa Shango by Batista, who gets kicked. Batista tries to catch Angle in a spinebuster, but Angle wriggles out. Ankle with the Anglelock, but Batista does the “roll around and break my ankle” counter and kicks out. Angle dodges, and ironically, Batista Angleizes his shoulder! JR: “Oh no! Oh no!” Angle with a…is that a Fujiwara armbar? It may just be. Or not. Batista gets up, lifts Angle, and gives him a backbreaker. Angle clotheslined to the floor, but Batista is still selling the shoulder. Batista follows Kurt out and rams his head into the stairs. Now the apron. BAIT AND SWITCHES ARE A MYSTERY run out and attack, drawing the Dairy Queen. Fucking stupid. I mean, Batista is already injured and taking on a world-class submission wrestler, so Trips runs-in and prevents a lengthy, punishing match. He doesn’t even have a weapon. Trips throws Batista in, and the heels all work together, but BATISTA’S LIFELONG FRIEND SHAWN MICHAELS appears to save his lifelong friend. MY PRIEST DISGUISE WAS EVEN BETTER THIS TIME comes out and decrees some stupid tag match, which is at least a little better than just ending the show. Oh, the faces cleared the ring, too. Triple H objects to the match as Batista and HBK hug. I’m serious.
Commercials. You can control Mario just by touching him. Use this power only for good, ladies.
We’re back, and the long-hairs are pounding on each other. HBK does the flying forearm and the kip-up. HBK messes with Angle. The ref attends to Angle. Flair sneaks in and attaxors HBK. Now the in-match heels stomp HBK. Angle tagged in. Kurt baits Batista. GRUMBLE GRUMBLE. Now for more double-teaming. Angle does neat leg-submission stuff, but I’m tired. Fastforward to Trips working over the leg. HBK tries to punch back. JR: “He’s fighting his ass off here!” There it is. It fell right off. Angle in to work the leg. Angle with an STF. Fastforward. HHH comes in with an elbowdrop. JR says he weighs “265 or 70 pounds.” Well, which is it? Stuff happens. Triple H decides to do a Figure-4, complete with woo (Flair lending woo support from the floor,) but he gets kicked off into the corner. Kurt tagged in, tries to block the tag, but he gets enzoogweereed. HBK crawling, Kurt crawling back to Trips (who was just devastated,) and now we get a double tag. Batista beats up Trips. He beats up Kurt. JR: “Dang!” Batista dances about and clotheslines both heels. He clotheslines everyone in the corner. He beats everyone up some more. Strolling powerslam on Trips, but Kurt breaks it up. HBK tosses Kurt, and sends him into the crowd. They wander off. Batista punches. But he sends Trips to the ropes and Papa Shangos. Trips counters with a facebuster, but then wanders into the spinebuster. JR: “The Double A Spinebuster!” No. Flair rushes in…to a spinebuster. But it distracts Batista long enough for the kick, wham, pedigree. For 2. Psh. Trips poses with the belt. JR talks about the irony of Flair eating the Double A Spinebuster. Which would have been ironic if Batista did the same spinebuster variant Double A did. Which he doesn’t. Gross, Triple H is leaning over Batista and whispering to him. Sweet nothings. Like, “I think it’s cool how you shoot Starbolts.” Was it awesome or cool? Whichever one wasn’t reserved for being the strongest girl ever.
Final Thoughts: I’m so fucking far behind in PreCal, I’m not gonna get to play computer games at all this week, am I?
