My blessing is sacred, much like a cow in India or the flower of a virginal ECW fan from the late 90s. Even though I am not a pope like one Todd Grisham, I have blessed many things in the past to much success. Before Eric Bischoff introduced the New World Order, I blessed that stable to take World Championship Wrestling to the greatest of wrestling heights. Prior to Stone Cold Steve Austin's reign of redneck terror in the Attitude Era, I was the first to bless him for superstardom. Days before Triple H fell in love with Stephanie McMahon — thereby securing his spot in the main event for forever — I blessed their eventual relationship by playing Bryan Adams' "Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman?" on the electric lute. Unbeknownst to the entire industry, I was responsible for its rise. On that note, I had nothing to do with its downfall. I was having a tea break when the industry collapsed. Don't blame me. I like tea. I can’t help it.
Now that I have let you in on wrestling's best-kept secret, you must inform World Wrestling Entertainment and Total Nonstop Action that they cannot go further with their storylines, angles, feuds, debuts, and returns until they consult me first. Initially, I gave Vince McMahon, Jeff Jarrett, and Dixie Carter some leeway to do whatever they wanted with their respective promotions, but now I must put my blessing foot down. I will not witness the industry destroy itself from the inside out any further. The time has come for the glorious one to have his say. Come, my children. Gather around for I have more blessings to give. For the unfortunate few, I have more ideas to shun. In the olden days, professional wrestling was a primitive entertainment sport, consisting of five-minute doily fights between untrained monkeys. When I arrived, wrestling became the entertainment sport that you love and cherish today. Together, let us use this article to restore wrestling back to the way it once was.
After watching week after week of tiresome programming, I have grown weary. In my weakened state, I am unable to detect the outcome of my choices. In turn, once I get some sugar in my system, I am positive that the consequences will become clear. Somewhere in the darkness, I hear a wrestling fan crying. He is wearing an Affliction shirt. He has neatly-trimmed facial hair. His name is Mike. When he is not watching wrestling, he likes to read five-year-old comic books in his Affliction shirt. His favourite band is Nickelback. He thinks The Wrestler would have been better with more shots of a naked Marisa Tomei. In response to that crying fan, I am here to help. You must let me help you, Michael. First of all, stop thinking about Marisa Tomei. I get it. She's over forty. You're impressed. Let's continue.
This week, I will serve as professional wrestling’s traffic light. Some stories will get the opportunity to proceed, while others will come to an abrupt stop. When you see the yellow light, do not speed up and try to fly through the intersection. My cameras will catch you. In turn, you will receive a speeding ticket and an embarrassing set of photos. Most of those photographs will feature the look on your face as you speed through the intersection. A select few will feature you as you sing along to a song on your car radio. Personally, I think you've embarrassed yourself enough.
Has Hunter Hearst Helmsley got his revenge yet? I'm bored. I'd rather play Connect Four with Kanye West. At first, Triple H's feud with Randy Orton was compelling... until they wrestled. During that epic WrestleMania XXV main event, you couldn't hear a pin drop, but you could hear that pin yawn and visit the concession stand for a corn dog. In retrospect, WWE tried their best with this angle. Revealing that Triple H was the husband of Stephanie McMahon, the brother-in-law of Shane McMahon, the father-in-law of Vince McMahon, and an admirer of Ed McMahon was a shocking move that garnered the interest of hardcore and casual fans alike. Once the audience realized they were cheering on the boss' son-in-law, they weren't cool with the story anymore. Suddenly, nepotism wasn't hip with the kiddies. In my opinion, Triple H's character is difficult to support. For one, he always gets the last laugh over his opponent. Whenever his opponent makes him look weak, he immediately gets his payback to prove to the world that he is better. Finally, he carries around a sledgehammer — the Swiss Army knife of foreign objects. Sledgehammers break glass, knock out enemies, win large stuffed animals in carnival games, become the subject of Peter Gabriel songs, and feed the poor. If the audience loves the cheer the underdog, Triple H was never and can never be that underdog. For Triple H’s sake, he’s Triple H.
As of this writing, I see a dim future for Legacy in their attempt to triumph over the McMahon family. Years of weekly WWE programming have proven that the McMahon family are just like Triple H — they never lose. Randy Orton, Ted DiBiase, and Cody Rhodes can try all they want to defeat them, but I'm afraid they're fighting for a lost cause. For every RKO, there will be a Pedigree. For every Dream Street, there will be a sloppy Stone Cold Stunner. For every whatever Cody Rhodes uses for a finisher, there will be Shane McMahon. Shane will attempt his rip-off of the Van Terminator, but he'll end up kicking Cody in the sack instead. In his post-match celebration, he shall dance the Shane-O Shuffle for serious and personal feuds require such ridiculous dance moves. After Stone Cold Steve Austin broke into Brian Pillman's home, he did the Pull-Ups Potty Dance. Did you know, WWE?
Santino Marella is the man. In other news, Santina Marella is the woman. If I didn't know any better, I would think that Santino and Santino Marella are one in the same. Because World Wrestling Entertainment would never lie or make a fool out of me, I am happy to report that they are equally great individuals. Whether or not Miss WrestleMania finds love with The Great Khali, Santino will be by her side via pre-taped satellite feed from Italy Town, Italy. For the first time in a long time, Santina Marella has piqued my interest in the women's division. Forget about Maryse and her platinum blonde hair. Forget about Melina and her gigantic wings that she tore off a flamboyant ostrich. When I think of WWE women's wrestling, I think of Santina Marella. I think of the other WWE Divas as well, but not as much as Santina. Beth Phoenix may not care for Santina, but what does Beth know? Sure, she can hold an invisible championship belt over her head. So what, Bethingham? I could do that, too, with or without a glamorous headband from Amazon.com. Beth Phoenix is not that special.
Some fans think the character of Santina Marella will be the death of Santino. In my eyes, those fans don’t understand anything. They don’t even understand their own thoughts. If I was a random wrestling fan from Italy, won the Intercontinental Championship in my first match with help from Bobby Lashley, and became an egotistical, manipulative, and temperamental heel in a dating segment, I wouldn't mind Santina Marella's presence at all. I bet you're just jealous of their brother-sister relationship. They get along rather well. Neither one takes the last piece of pizza without asking the other. Don't hate, ladies and gentlemen. Do not exhibit hatred. If you don't like Santina, then you should put a cork on it. Don't be mad once you see that Khali want it. If you don't like Santina, then you should put a cork on it.
Total Nonstop Action and I have a love-hate relationship. As TNA loves my viewership, I hate that they love my viewership. Lately, I've watched TNA Impact as a way to get away from the RAWs, Smackdowns, and ECWs of the week. Once in the bluest of moons, I will watch TNA over WWE. In the past, readers, friends, and family have suggested that I do something more productive with my time, such as build a habitat for the sake of humanity, or paint an avant-garde mural with my bare body. Although I appreciate their suggestions, watching TNA can be a pleasant experience at times, considering that a team of emergency medical technicians watches with me while monitoring my condition throughout the program. These days, I try to limit the amount of wrestling I watch to as little as possible, but Spike is hard to ignore, what with their Bobby Lashleys and their Star Wars. Those Star Wars films are some of the best documentaries I have ever seen. It's time. It's time. It's Darth Vader time. I like that part where Darth Vader executes the Vader Bomb on Gorilla Monsoon.
According to his entrance video, former WWE Superstar Bobby Lashley has come to TNA to start his motor vehicle. Judging by the shoddy way his motor vehicle runs, I am beginning to suspect that he wants someone in TNA to fix his car. Lashley has never heard of an automotive repair and maintenance establishment before. Therefore, maybe Kurt Angle or Mick Foley can help him with his problem. Angle and Foley seem like the kind of people who can repair his automobile. Kurt Angle went to Quaker State A & M. Mick Foley bathed in motor oil once. In conclusion, I think both men are qualified. Total Nonstop Action was wise to sign a former WWE star, but they signed Bobby Lashley. If they never watched Bobby Lashley on WWE televsion, they are in a surprise. His dad's uncle claims that Lashley has charisma, ring presence, and personality. I, on the other hand, doubt it. You see, his dad's uncle was never a reliable source in the first place. From my perspective, Bobby Lashley's shining TNA moment will involve force-feeding Kurt Angle a silver tray of hamburgers. World Wrestling Entertainment is a multi-million-dollar company. Therefore, they can afford cheeseburgers. Total Nonstop Action is not a multi-million-dollar company. If and when they sign Lashley, they won't be able to afford cheese.
When Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat showed that he was the best fifty-five-year-old steamboat in professional wrestling today, I thought about the possibilities. Unlike Ric Flair, who knife-edge chopped his way to retirement, Ricky has a few years left in him. Of course, he is not the wrestler he used to be, but he knows how to wrestle entertaining matches. If you pick any wrestler on the roster of his similar size and or style, Steamboat can have an entertaining match with that man. Put him against Shawn Michaels and you will get a six-star classic. Have him face Randy Orton and the voices in your head will applaud the decision. On second thought, once you make him wrestle The Miz, his comeback is over. Whatever you do, do not let him compete in a back-and-forth contest against "The Chick Magnet." Steamboats, chicks, and magnets do not mix. A baby chick driving a steamboat with the use of magnets is trouble. Do not give that baby chick a steamboat driving license. That baby chick will simply abuse her privileges.
After what is sure to be an excellent match against Chris Jericho, World Wrestling Entertainment can capitalize on Steamboat's growing popularity with a new audience by using him when necessary. Due to overexposure, the WWE legends before him lost their legendary aura. For Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat, he can keep that aura strong by wrestling a handful of matches every year. If Vince and the rest of WWE choose to use him, I hope they do not turn him into another "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan. The last time Duggan appeared on RAW, he walked off into the sunset with Cryme Tyme to do thuggish business. I am aware that Steamboat danced like a weirdo in a backstage segment at WrestleMania 23, but that should be the exception rather than the rule.
I could tolerate JBL's "Clothesline from Hell." I could get behind The Great Khali's knife-edge chop to the top of head. To the lesser extent, I could support Vladimir Kozlov's wonderful "Hit You With My Head and Hope for the Best." With that said, I despise The Big Show's Knockout Punch with the fury of a thousand pit bulls owned and cared for by a furious John Cena. As I have mentioned in the past, WWE wants you to know that The Big Show is big. From his presence in the ring alone, even I can comprehend this notion, but I am unwilling to treat a punch as a legitimate finishing move in modern professional wrestling. I don't think it matters if Show winds up on the punch. I don't find it interesting if he looks angry while using the punch. In matches, professional wrestlers punch a whole bunch. More often than not, they punch more than they perform actual wrestling moves. Am I to believe that regular punches during a bout cannot match the power of The Big Show's Knockout Punch? The absurd rules of wrestling claim that closed fists are illegal. From what I have seen, Show's punch is as closed as a bank on Sundays. What gives, Show? You may be anatomically superior, but your punch is astronomically inferior. By the way, you are not the first man to use a punch for a finisher. On behalf of Mr. Show, I apologize, Mark Jindrak.
Compared to William Regal's "Power of the Punch," Big Show's punch comes in at a distant second. At least William Regal used brass knuckles when punching. WWE’s brand of commentary emphasizes that Big Show's hands are like frying pans. If that simile is true, he should cook me some eggs and bacon with those pans, not punch dudes in the face with them. Unfortunately, I have never been in a fight with a homemaker. Regardless, the homemakers that I do know would never use punches or frying pans for a finishing move. Those homemakers are pretty smart. The Big Show is the opposite of smart. So far, I am unimpressed with his ability to knock out Rey Mysterio with a single punch. Rey Mysterio is a tiny, tiny Mexican child disguised as a man. Anyone could knock him out. If I wanted to leave him unconsciousness, I would knock him out with a scrap piece of paper.
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