Halloween is a special holiday in which children wear poorly-fitted clothes, wander around in the dark, and receive unopened packages from strangers. If December 25th is Christmas, October 31st is Christmas Version 2.0. As for me, society looks down on young men who dress up as a slutty Josh Mathews. This unfortunate truth means that I see no use in participating in this year's Halloween festivities. Even though I not will be out and about, I shall grace the internet with a spooky edition of The Swerved.
The wrestling world is a scary place. Everywhere you look, wrestling's greatest companies are lurking in the shadows, preparing to invade our living rooms with their ghoulish brand of entertainment. I shudder and shiver at the thought of wrestlers, staring at me with their dead eyes, talking into microphones with their dead mouths, and wrestling against their opponents in dead arenas. Get away. I don't want to hear about never giving up, no matter what. I don't want to see elementary-school-level acting. Just go.
I'm afraid of a lot of things: heights, snakes, overcrowded places, bears, flying, commitment, fruit carts in non-action films, one-piece bikinis, long pants, tofu, ghosts, sails on sailboats, the sun, the moon, half of the stars in the sky, moons made out of cheese, up escalators, old computers, Juicy Fruit, and Velcro that is left unused. Perhaps the only thing that I am not afraid of is telling you what frightens me. In World Wrestling Entertainment, many things do.
For the first time ever, I am going to use sarcasm in order to cope with my fears. I am a truthful person who lives a truthful life, occasionally borrowing candy from babies for research purposes. No matter what you think of me, please let me off easy this one time. In the future, I promise to never use sarcasm again. A promise is a promise, and mine cannot be broken. Isn't that right, Ken Kennedy: the man who has never told a lie? I thought so.
For the benefit of the young children out there, I shall present the background behind the Katie Vick storyline. Kane, a violent monster with a disturbing childhood, was a teenage chick magnet. Apparently, teenage girls like large, sweaty, and disturbed pyromaniacs with masks. One of those girls was peppy cheerleader Katie Vick. To cap off a night of drunken teenage partying — a weekend staple for any Big Red Machine — he took Katie home in his car. Because he is Kane, I assume he owned a ruby red AMC Pacer. Unfortunately, a horrific car crash took the life of the lovely cheerleader, leaving Kane alone and guilt-ridden. By the way, I'm guessing that at some point in this time period, a teenage Undertaker tormented Kane in his sleep with reminders of the accident. At night, he probably crept up towards Kane’s top bunk and made car crash noises with his mouth. After Kane threatened to tell their father, Paul Bearer, about the traumatic teasing, the Undertaker threw Kane's ColecoVision out the window. This ungodly act began their lifelong feud.
The storyline was brought forth on a 2002 edition of RAW in a wonderful segment, which appalled nobody in particular. In a pre-taped skit, Triple H dressed up as the casual-wear version of Kane (red t-shirt, jeans, and a mask), climbed into a coffin with a Katie Vick mannequin inside, and went to town on her mannequin body. After the act, he took out a handful of hamburger meat and claimed to have screwed her brains out. I feel as though WWE is screwing up my brains just thinking about it.
Wasn't that storyline great, WWE? Today, I'm glad you're able to laugh about it, what with the fact that you took it seriously at first and thought it would set the wrestling world on fire. Oh, you guys and your ability to have so much fun. Remember how hardcore fans hated the angle and vowed never to watch wrestling again, taking money out of your pockets and eyes off your programming for several years to come? That was super stupendous. Jokes about the past are awesome.
The WWE Diva Halloween Costume Contest is a time-honoured, Cyber Sunday tradition that annually determines which WWE Diva tries the most to be more sexy than they actually are. Last year, Mickie James beat out the women of RAW, Smackdown, and ECW with her Lara Croft: Tomb Raider outfit. This particular costume was inspired by the notion that socially awkward nerds everywhere want to raid Mickie James' tomb. While I don't mind WWE Divas dressing up in these revealing outfits, I don’t want to watch them stand around any longer. Getting paid to stand around may very well be the greatest job in the world, but as an admirer of divas who don't stand around, the segment does not interest me. Don't get me wrong, though. They don't have to attempt to wrestle, or act, or do anything that is physically or mentally exhaustive, but can't they do something new? Can't they run in place or something like that? How about a WWE Diva Running in Place Contest? I bet Mickie James would win that contest as well. As far as her career is concerned, running in place is what she is doing right now. Dang.
Let's face it: WWE women's wrestling is pretty sad at the moment. The RAW Women's Division is made up of a girl that smiles a lot (Melina), a girl that sings poorly a lot on purpose (Jillian Hall), and Gail Kim (Gail Kim). At the same time, Smackdown consists of WWE Women's Champion Michelle McCool and girls who are not undertaking it with The Undertaker. Wearing nostalgic glasses to correct my nostalgic near-sightedness, I yearn for the days of the Trish Stratuses/Trish Stratusi and the Litas. Although they competed in a few Halloween costume contests themselves, they spent the rest of the time doing entertaining things. Whether it was making up convoluted moves in which the opponent does all of the work, or occasionally landing on their faces, the divas of yesteryear were dynamic. These days, they're just chilling.
Currently, the WWE main event scene is as fresh as fresh can get. Don't even bother to stop and smell the roses for the WWE main event scene has a scent that I liken to a newborn babe. On the RAW brand, total unknowns like John Cena and Randy Orton are getting their names out there to a public that is not yet familiar with them. Meanwhile, Friday Night Smackdown has been rejuvenated with the young animal Batista and the Undertaker — a Deadman who is only getting less dead. Although ECW is a WWE brand, nobody should care about them anyway because ECW is filled with super old dudes.
Taking the talent roster of all three brands into account, I think WWE needs to knock certain individuals down a peg or twelve. If these certain individuals wish to make themselves into stars, maybe it's time to insult them. Perhaps WWE should insult them to a point where the audience sees them as eternal losers. This is where The Game plays his game like no other gamer can play games that are gamer-friendly.
Get going with your bad self, Triple H. Last week on Monday Night RAW, you showed those new guys who's their future boss. In case you weren’t aware, I'm talking about you. Those up-and-comers deserve your scorn. Look at what they're going to do to you in a few years. I fear for the safety of your main event spot for they could be main eventers themselves. For the sake of you and I, let's pray that they won't be. You're right; Eric Escobar doesn't have a name. That's why WWE took the creative time and effort to call him Eric Escobar and pair him with former Smackdown General Manager Vickie Guerrero. He doesn't matter. Yes. You may be a 13-time WWE World Champion, but to me, you're a 13-time champion of cutesy yet harmful insults. Those insults are the best kind.
When there's some nonsensical brand trade in the WWE neighbourhood, who am I going to call? Well, I'm going to call everyone to inform them of this exciting, monumental move that will send shockwaves throughout the industry. I ain't afraid of no nonsensical brand trade. Why, you say? Nonsensical brand trades make the WWE Universe do whatever a WWE Universe does. A WWE Universe manufactures Milky Way and Mars bars, right? In actuality, the more nonsensical a brand trade may be, the more sense it makes. Due to all those times she has dealt with wrestling talent on Access Hollywood, Nancy O'Dell understands the value of WWE Superstars. If anyone should make trades, it should be her. Now, compare her to someone like Mary Hart. If you ask me, Entertainment Tonight is Clueless Tonight. When you have Access to Hollywood, you have access to anything, including WWE talent. Whenever you want, hook RAW up with some stars that are of the super variety, Nance.
After receiving my associates degree from the University of Phoenix, I am now qualified to host WWE programs and make brand trades. As RAW General Manager for the next few minutes, I am going to hit up Theodore Long and Tiffany and talk about some serious business. I'll trade back The Bella Twins for a McDonald's Monopoly piece. Any takers? Nikki and Brie are valuable, but you have to give something to get something. I think I can win the contest this year. Scratch that. I know I can win this. I have 14 Park Places, but if I try a few hundred more times, I can get Boardwalk.
While you're having a blast, chomping down on your precious Halloween candy, I will be cowering in fear before celebrities who wrestle. I am completely in favour of adding glitz and glamour to the dull Monday nights, but once these guest hosts start pulling off holds and submissions, we have a problem. Not only a problem, but a glitzy and glamorous problem. As a loyal and steadfast supporter of World Wrestling Entertainment, I think I deserve to get what I want. After all, I keep them afloat by criticizing every single one of their decisions. Hence, I know what's best for them. At this point, the very best that is for them is getting those celebrities out of the ring. I've had enough of Snoop Dogg clotheslining Santino with his noodle-like arms. Maybe he should pick up a weight once in a while, rather than a marijuana cigarette. That way, he wouldn't have to attack people with his noodle-like arms. In my opinion, he has enough noodle-like arms to make a spaghetti-like dinner, but I bet he would clothesline that, too.
RAW Guest Hosts like Shaquille O'Neal and Ben Roethlisberger are the exception. With their intimidating builds, I can buy into the possibility that they could get the better of a WWE Superstar. Then again, what is WWE doing with these celebrities anyway? The promotion doesn’t need them. As Vince famously said, the WWE Superstars are the true celebrities. He's right, you know. Those WWE Superstars are always in the gossip magazines, rubbing elbows and other body parts with A-listers. The other day, I saw a picture of Ashton Kutcher buying cereal at some Los Angeles grocery store. You know who else was there? Hornswoggle. That leprechaun was betraying his people, buying Good Luck Shapes — an imitation Lucky Charms cereal. Wait until Nancy Grace gets a hold of this news. A leprechaun caught buying Good Luck Shapes? He might as well move from RAW to the Four Horsemen. The sight is that shameful.
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