And now for the dramatic conclusion of Steve Romero's Masterpiece here on my Personal Playground.

Sylvain Grenier: "How dare you trick me by pretending to be a French sympathizer for nearly two years! The unmitigated gall!"

Rob Conway: "Well, at least I'm not Steve Romero. Okay?"

Sylvain Grenier: "You had me at 'Well.' All is forgiven."

Rob Conway: "OR AM I?!?! *rips off mask to reveal that he was Steve Romero all along!*

Sylvain Grenier: "IT WAS A CON!!! *passes out and hits head on gourmet coffee table*"

Fin.

Time to go on a little trip! We're takin' a little trip! Tell 'em what kind of trip it is, JR!

On a Sunday, I think it through.
On the drive back, I think it through.
What you wish for won't come true.
Live with that.

Last Monday, Uncle Eric tried to be mean to John Cena but was foiled by Grandpa Dumpydrawers. This is the kind of highbrow comedy you'll be craving once I'm gone, people. And this keeps going and going about Homecoming. You think I'd be world-weary enough to not get annoyed that they're using my last Heat to put RAW over, but here we are.

Heat opening. Your hosts are I Will Divulge My True Thoughts About Kerwin White Immediately After Heat Goes Off The Air and The Last Sip Of Tea Is The Sweetest Of Them All.

Techno Super Bowl v. The Tard Throbs

Sure, start with a loss for my favorite thing about the WWE right now. Fitting. Coach: "I-it's time to throb it!" Jesus Christ, Lilian, could you have dressed like a huger skank? Tube top? You only have yourself to blame when they rape you. Dap dance, off with the pants. Why are Tajiri and Eugene all hugging and shit? I guess they formed an unbreakable bond when they escaped from William Regal's concentration camp. You know why Eugene stared really hard at the can of frozen orange juice? Ask Jerry Lawler, I'm sure he knows. Failing that, Chris Jericho. Todd: "Tajiri's English is better than your Japanese, Coach." Coach: "Konnichiwa! Konnichiwa!" Hug for Jack Doan. Hug for Tajiri. Attempt at head-licking, but Tajiri don't swing that way. Eugene rolls outside to grab a boa and run around??? SIR, YOU ARE MAKING A MOCKERY OF THE HEART THROBS AND ALL THE DIGNIFIED SEXAYNESS THAT THEY REPRESENT. Todd: "He's a Heart Throb, Coach! He could be the third Heart Throb!" Romeo's like "I will take my aggression out on this bottom rope." Eugene and Tajiri make with the sexful dancing. Wiping the ass with the boa. What would Jake The Snake do? Tajiri does not want the boa now that it's been asswiped.

Antonio finally attacks with some kickin' on Eugene. Right hand knocks him down. Boot choke. Eugene crawls through the legs and bites his ass. NO NO NO. Here comes Romeo to take a drop toehold. Eugene says "If you are to be lassoed like a horse, then I shall ride you like one." Throat thrusts for Antonio. Tag to Tajiri before Eugene scoops Antonio and ties him in the tree of WHOA WHOA WHOA. Standing on that set of turnbuckles and waving for no reason while Tajiri massacres Antonio with the baseball slide dropkick to the face. Cover, 1, 2, no, no, no. Scoop slam, standing moonsault, 1, 2, no. Shot to the head. Whip reversed, cheap kick by Romeo, but Tajiri's retaliatory thrust kick is far more costly. It's enough of a distraction for Antonio to knock the sushi out of Tajiri's mouth with a murderous clothesline, however. Mounted punching. Eugene makes a "Goodness!" face on the apron. Tag to Romeo for a double Russian legsweep. Cover for one. Todd laughably wonders if the winners of this match will become #1 Contenders for the tag titles. Rosey and Hurricane have a mandatory rematch clause, we learn. Romeo staggers Tajiri with some goofy left-handed jabs before knocking the shit out of him with a discus punch. 1, 2, no.

Plowing Tajiri's back into the sexy corner for a tag. "Eugene" chant as Tajiri gets whipped back into that corner and flattened with a double clothesline on the rebound. Antonio covers for two. Coach: "I would daresay that Trevor Murdoch is gonna become a crowd favorite because of the way his face looks." Hahaha, what? Front chancery by Antonio. Tajiri battles back with the "lift you up and struggle for a tag" spot, but Antonio ends it with a kneelift. Punch for Eugene, as well. Side headlock, back suplex attempt by Tajiri, but Antonio flips behind. He takes out Tajiri's leg, only to get booted back into his corner. Romeo brings himself in to grab Tajiri's foot. He, too, is kicked away. Now the Throbs grab both feet and prove to be doubly incompetent. Hot tag to the retarded gentleman! He ducks Romeo's clothesline and punches away. Some for Antonio, as well. Windmill punches all around. Kick Wham Stunnard coming up, but Romeo shoves Eugene into Antonio's Hart Attack set-up! It hits! 1, 2, Tajiri saves! The Throbs doubleteam Tajiri. Double whip, handspring elbow takes out both men! Kick for Antonio. The faces whip the Throbs into each other, but Romeo and Antonio pull up short and clasp hands adorably. Then they turn around and charge into DOUBLE TARANTULAS!!! Awesome. Romeo ends up all alone when the dust clears. Kick Wham Stunnard, 1, 2, 3. Coach, on Eugene: "You know, every time the fans cheer for him, we're that much... farther away from not seeing him again!"

WWE.com, which sucks, provides us with footage of Former Cruiserweight Titleist tooling around the golf course with his new caddy. Lime green vest, darker green polo shirt, bright orange pants. Yow. "Hi. As a member of UPPER middle class society, it's no secret that I luuuv a good game of golf. And with each round of golf I play, my handicap continues to lower and lower. And it's only going to get better, because I'd like you all to meet my new friend, my caddy, Mr. Nick Nemeth." Nick: "That's right, Mr. White. And whether you're teeing off, chipping one up, or tappin' one in on the green, I'll always be right here by your side." Kerwin: "By my side? Aw, that, that's beautiful, that's great. And remember, if it's not Kerwin White... *displays Nemeth's 'WHITE' caddy poncho*" Nick: "It's not right." Kerwin: "Heh heh heh ha ha! I'll see you on the links!" Are they cool links? "Another beautiful shot. *grooms eyebrows*"

Commercials. Meh.

Here are the final Top 5 standings of the WWE Fantasy Leaderboard on Heat, which is weird. NO BILLIONAIRES

Stills from Unforgiven. Carlito vs. Flair. To the match from Monday. And the Masterlock. Although I'm wary of the WWE taking a fun, goofy character and making him all OOOH KURT ANGLE INTENSE, Carlito yelling really fast is cool.

Commercials. Barf.

The Snickers Rewing is the tag titles changing hands.

GoCaddy.com v. I, TOO, STRIKE BALLS LOL

Nick doesn't get to ride in the cart this time. He can carry the hanger, though. Is Kerwin sponsored by 7-Up or something? Can a cracker get a minute? OMG HE'S GETTIN' WOOD LOOK OUT PALUMBO BRUTHAZ. Swing in the ring. Nick's like "WOW THAT IMAGINARY BALL WENT SO FAR THAT I CAN NO LONGER SEE IT WHICH IS RATHER IRONIC BECAUSE IT WAS INVISIBLE IN THE FIRST PLACE." Seriously, is Lilian in a Halloween costume? Chavo fucking curtsies right there in the middle of the ring. Oh, shit yes. Show this schlub how they do it in the private schools. Striker fights on behalf of Middle School America. He is befuddled by the cart of golf. His panties say "Striker." Nemeth takes care of the lemon-lime vest. And the golf glove.

Wave! Hello! Lockup, armdrag by Striker. He wants to fights, but Chavo does not. Lockup, hammerlock by Kerwin. Spinning him around for no reason prior to an armbar. Striker reverses and gets another armdrag. Kerwin's still chilling out in the corner. The polo shirt is OFF. The distraction of folding allows Kerwin to strike with a kick. Punch, Middle Class American Uppercut. Another MCAU. Wave. Todd says "Chavo," causing Coach to proclaim that he and JR have the same problem. Not enough butter for their ham. Whip, Striker wins the shoulderblock. Off the ropes, Chavo leapfrogs, but Striker stops on a dime and gets another scintillating armdrag. Whip, no, Kerwin swings out and dropkicks the knee. Stompin' it. Yeah, make Striker sell a leg injury. Sounds like a good idea. Leggeries. Kicked out of his leg. Stomp, stomp, punch. Arranging the leg on the middle rope so that it can be wrenched. Wave. Kick to the leg. Todd asks why Kerwin needs a caddy when he drives around in a golf cart, and Coach's answer amounts to "NUNYA BUSINESS, KIIID!"

Kicking the leg excitingly. Kerwin charges into Matt's back elbow. Again, Striker almost fucks up the "hold my boot" spot, but Kerwin grabs it. Dropped, and there's a clothesline from Striker. He's freaking out. Clothesline. Hiptoss. Ow, my leg. White's arm is bleeding. Striker blocks a punch and delivers the reverse neckbreaker Stunner. Hobble, hobble, 1, 2, no. Ha, Nemeth with a golf clap. Nobody home for Kerwin's dumb corner charge. Striker with some dipshitted rolling arm hold into a Fujiwara armbar. White squirms over to get a foot on the bottom rope. Kerwin's up to get punched in the arm. Shoulder charge to it. Whip reversed, drop toehold by Chavo, Bottled Water On The Knee, tap the fuck out, fucker. I WAKE UP EV'RY MORNIN', CAN'T WAIT TO SEE MATT STRIKER LOSE. A-curtsy. He's Heel Trish now. Nick says "I will shine this golf club up so that you might stick it straight up your candy ass should you feel so inclined." Swing.

Still to come, The Con Man faces The Benjer Man in a "Loser Can No Longer Be A Man" match. What the hell did Sofa not like about this show? Did Canada get some insane all-Matt Striker international variant?

HEY CENA F-U IS NOT ONE WORD IT IS TWO LETTERS KTHX. Oh, he said "one move," thereby ruining my funny joke. Selfish.

Commercials. Bark.

Eight-man tag match that I do not care about.

Main event is next.

Commercials. Shut it.

The Juicy Drop Pop Slam of the Week is Hardy's cage legdrop. BLOOP BLOOP

I Will Con You Out Of Your Money Clip v. Your Pianist Is This Small

Coach, gravelly-voiced: "AIN'T I A SIIIGHT TO SEE!" Conway appears to sing his own theme, as well. Coach: "This is my favorite entrance music! Let The Coach enjoy it!" Todd: "I thought your own music was your favorite?" Coach: "OH! OH! Oh. ...damn world... BEEEEEE look like me." Hahahaha. Conway: "But they don't! *finger waggle*" Todd is in love with Shelton Benjamin. "He runs a 4.2 forty, Coach! Can Rob Conway run that fast?" Coach, immediately: "Yes." Todd: "If... if Shelton's chasin' him, maybe!" Yeah, you gonna run fast when black people are on your tail.

Shades still on, lockup, Conway wrings the arm. Tug it. Tug it. Tug it. Armbar. Shelton slips behind to pick an ankle and apply his own armbar. Wrenching the neck while doing it. Conway stands before Shelton takes it to a hammerlock. The Con Man counters, then gets a side headlock. Benjamin begins to power out with a wristlock, but Conway bends him all the way down to the mat. The crowd rallies behind Shelton as he bridges up and twists behind to shove Conway into the ropes. Big hiptoss, cover for one. Staredown. Shelton makes his smirkyface while Conway is like "Come hither, Chad Patten, for these sunglasses are a hindrance unto me." Shades off, lockup, side headlock by Conway. REAPING THE BENEFITS OF 20/20 VISION, FOLKS. Shelton whips him off and eats a 98% fat free shoulderblock. Off the ropes, Conway hops over, Shelton leapfrogs, Conway scoots directly under and gets a hiptoss. But his telegraphed elbowdrop is dodged. Shelton strikes back with forearms to the face. Clothesline. Big backdrop. Conway heads for the floor to con-sider his options. Refreshing con-cider. Let's take a break.

Commercials. I shan't.

We return to find Conway land a kneelift. Measuring Benjamin for a right hand to the head. Two more until Shelton blocks and delivers punches of his own. Whip, head down too soon, and Shelton gets kicked. He recovers to rush into Conway's nasty, bouncy hotshot. Ouch. The Con Man capitalizes with strangulation. More choking. Yet again. Chad is told to "SHUT UP!" Yeah, Chad. Throttling Shelton on the bottom rope. Stomping away. Weak "Let's Go Benjamin" chant. Rob picks him up for a reverse neckbreaker. 1, 2, no. Camel clutch variant with a knee in the back. Tearing at the face, as well. Benjamin develops a wigglyleg as he struggles up to break with gutshots, but Conway clubs him. Waistlock applied, but Shelton elbows free. Springing to the top rope for a flying forearm smash! Conway's all drunken as he stumbles to his feet. Shelton blocks his punch and makes with the Sting offense. Ain't no connin' him nowww. Whip, back elbow. Corner whip, Shelton Splash to the back! Snap backbreaker on the knee! 1, 2, no! Whip, no, Conway swings out and kicks. Hooked for a suplex, but Shelton flips directly behind! Samoan drop! Conway's back to the floor. Benjamin follows, causing Rob to attempt to scamper back in. But Shelton's got him. Hard right hands. Head to the apron. Chad's counting with lightning speed, so this is an obvious count-out. Shelton was going to return to the ring, but Conway prevented it. Rob tries to sneak back in at eight, but Benjamin hauls him to the floor. And it continues to be a game of Musical Rings until Chad counts them out. Booing. Conway thinks he won, but he's conning himself. Lilian announces the double count-out as Rob puts the boots to Shelton. Coach: "If Lilian Garcia can understand it, so can anybody else!" Whip, no, Shelton swings out and sends Conway flippin' with a clothesline. And Rob bails. Staredown as we pimp Homecoming. Shelton invites Rob back in, but that does not appear to be The Con Way. Conway: "I'M THE WINNER!!!!!" That was unsatisfying, but a Benjerman/Conway double count-out is like a refreshing tropical breeze when you've been mired in Val and Viscera doing Sexay Dances over the corpses of the Heart Throbs for the past month.

Hulk Hogan keeps asking me what I'm gonna do, so here goes. Heat and Velocity may be continuing, but I ain't, as I don't have the capability to do much on WWE.com. While it's my own fault for having a computer made out of dinosaur bones in this modern age of fancy Jetsons cars and aerodynamic Kerwin White golf balls, I also feel somewhat slighted by the bullshit WWE is pulling. Like they couldn't replace A.M. Raw with Heat. Assholes. I'm A.M. Raw, and I'm here to say, I'm the suckiest show on the USA. That said, I'll likely recap Impact and whatever awful Experience-esque bullcrap gets aired on Saturday and Sunday morning. On a trial basis. And the End Of The Weekend mini-CYOA which you probably won't care for will likely drop in a couple weeks. So see you around, somewhere.

Final Thoughts: And that's the end of that chapter. Chapter 178. 4.2 shoutouts to The Cubs Fan and Justin Shapiro.