*****
NEXT WEEK
Kobe Kingston takes after has namesake by running with the ball and never passing it.
AND
He said he wanted many, many thousands of green people from history times.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Conversations with Batman: A Man and His Boy
*****
NEXT WEEK
Kobe Kingston takes after has namesake by running with the ball and never passing it.
AND
He said he wanted many, many thousands of green people from history times.
Hulk & Eric Go To TNA
It's official: Hulkamania has migrated to TNA for the winter. From there, it should run wild. In a move that will surely put Total Nonstop Action Wrestling on a map that hasn't been invented yet, Hulk Hogan and Eric Bischoff are taking control. At this moment, somewhere in the distance, a man is shaking in his boots. I think that man is Vince McMahon. I, for one, feel sorry for the multi-million-dollar, WWE Chairman. First of all, his son has severed ties with the company. Now, with Hogan in TNA, who's Vince going to call when he needs a shocking Pay-Per-View cameo? He can only call Steve Austin so many times before he gets annoyed. One time, Vince phoned Stone Cold while he was taking a relaxing bath with beer salts. Austin was not happy.
With Jeff Jarrett out of the picture and barely hanging onto the frame, Hogan and Bischoff are ready to take TNA to the top. While the doubters doubt that this tight-knit duo can change TNA for the better, they are more mistaken than ever. Hulk Hogan back in wrestling is a good thing. Eric Bischoff reuniting with Vince Russo is a super good thing. If Bischoff and Russo can duplicate the success they had in running WCW circa 2000, TNA is in for many decades of monetary wealth. The New Blood shall rise again, raining thick corn syrup that doesn't go where it's supposed to, no matter how hard they try.
In the past, Hulk and Eric knew how to make superstars. In 2009, I think they can work their Orlando magic with the current crop of TNA talent. Ask Billy Kidman what Hulk Hogan did for his career and he will tell you a mouthful in a way that is informative, yet not charismatic at all. Ask Diamond Dallas Page about Eric Bischoff's influence on his career and he will tell you facts in an overly optimistic manner — a manner that is open to some sensual swinging.
In the eternal fight against the evil empire that is World Wrestling Entertainment, Total Nonstop Action shall be the victors. How do I know this outcome? Hulk Hogan and Eric Bischoff's mere presence in TNA have guaranteed this outcome to be true. Before we look at the benefits of their involvement with the promotion, let me cook something delicious for us on my Hulk Hogan Ultimate Grill. As we dine on flank steak, TNA will dig into its future greatness.
In his prime, you saw him win tag team title after title with Jerry Sags in WWF and WCW. For years, you heard him at Tampa Bay Rays games, being a standout, obnoxious, fat heckler behind home plate. On television, you watched him on Hulk Hogan's Celebrity Championship Wrestling reality show, teaching D-level celebrities about the fine art of technical wrestling — Brian Knobbs style. With Hogan's signing in TNA, get ready for some mullet-y, Mohawk-like, rat-tail-esque action. I'm not sure what to call his haircut, but I'm liking it. I'm liking it a lot. His haircut is like a wild animal, which he has tamed to rest atop his beautiful head. If you're not down with Brian Knobbs in TNA, you best believe that you're living in Pity City because I pity you and your ignorance.
Before Hulk Hogan made bandanas famous, they were relegated to the craniums of tough bikers, effeminate pirates, and gangsters doubling as doctors. Due to the struggling economy, today’s supply and demand of bandanas remain at an all-time low. Everywhere you look, tough bikers are wearing fancy bowler hats. These bikers battle for territory against other tough bikers, who wear those Puritan hats with the large buckle on it. Effeminate pirates have traded in their bandanas for silk neckerchiefs and pashmina shawls. Meanwhile, gangsters doubling as doctors are simply using disposable face masks, which is a wise choice for such individuals in their profession. Hogan's arrival to TNA can only lift the stock of bandanas. Hulk Hogan's interest in bandanas increases my own interest. His bandanas are something else. I think they give him super powers.
If you're not convinced, Horace Hogan never wore a bandana. Look where he is now. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you his general or exact location. He’s not wearing a bandana.
Listen, buttheads and buttressheads. Jason Hervey is an talented actor and producer. Even though he is not a professional wrestler or wrestling personality, he did get it on with Missy Hyatt. That act of getting it on with Missy Hyatt makes him more of a professional wrestler than actually wrestling in a professional fashion. If you're an up-and-comer who wants to break into a wrestling business, you can do one of two things: get in Missy Hyatt's Regency or train hard for a decade. Either way, you’ll be set.
Hervey's working relationship and personal friendship with Eric Bischoff should get him a role in TNA. Perhaps, he shall be one of eight commissioners in the promotion. His job will involve booking himself in matches against Fred "The Macho Man" Savage for the rights to the Arnold family furniture business. Outdated reference alert.
Whether Hogan knows best or Brooke knows best, I feel safe and secure knowing that Brooke Hogan sings like an angel. Do not be hating with your hater glasses on your hater face, and your hater galoshes in the hating rain. She's just trying to live, but you're all up in her grill and similar outdoor cooking appliances. How is a girl to breathe with all the media staring down her angelic mouth with a four-inch lens, which extends to five inches when excited? Brooke just wants to hit the mall with some of her friends and whore it up via hulking.
Brooke's brand of sexually suggestive pop music has not come ten years too late. If anything, Brooke's music is ahead of its time. Her music must have been made in the year 1999 A.S.C.E. (After Second Common Era). As Hulk comes to TNA, I have no doubt that he will bring his daughter along to sing national anthems aplenty. Those people on vacation at Universal Studios deserve to be treated to her timeless tunes. Their vacation would not be a vacation without Brooke Hogan’s music.
Hulk Hogan is one of the biggest stars to ever step one or two wrestling foots in a wrestling ring. Around the world, his name is synonymous with professional wrestling. Gold diggers in that same world like to dig their gold from guys who are rich and famous. I am not surprised that the rich and famous Hulk Hogan can get attractive girls at his age, but I wonder why he would date women who resemble his own daughter. In most countries, dating your own daughter is sort of looked down upon, so at least Hogan is keeping things legal. On second thought, gross, dude. You're dating girls who look like Brooke Hogan. Now that you have additional exposure in TNA, you're only going to attract more clones of Brooke Hogan. In Florida, Brooke clones are everywhere. I know how it is. I've seen CSI: Miami. I’ve heard their sound machine.
From his series of reality shows produced by Eric Bischoff and Jason Hervey, I have learned many things about Scott Baio. For instance, depending on the type of day and weather condition, Scott Baio is single, married, and or pregnant.
The former star of Happy Days, Joanie Loves Chachi, and Charles in Charge has many accomplishments to his name, but his biggest accomplishment will come in the form of his first TNA World Championship reign. Using his finisher called "Ham and Baio on Rye" (powerbomb into reverse electric chair drop), Scott will defeat AJ Styles and take what is rightfully his. Acting as the first domino in this domino effect, Willie Aames will debut soon after and win the TNA Knockouts Title. Willie Aames is not a woman, but his acting performances always manage to knock me out. He’s like Jenna Morasca in that regard, except he is not.
When a normal wrestler gives his opponent a leg drop, mild pain is involved. Mostly, the giver inflicts that pain onto the receiver, who usually lightly bounces off the mat in reaction to the move. Whenever Hulk Hogan gives his opponent the Legdrop of Doom, the tectonic plates beneath us violently shift. In fact, the tectonic plates switch positions, creating a new world landscape. Asia combines with the western part of North America. Furthermore, Antarctica distances itself from the other countries, making us not want to live there.
Throughout its history, Total Nonstop Action presented many a legdrop, but none rivals the one produced by Hogan's tanned and meaty leg. If any of you need to move within the next few months, allow Hulk Hogan to walk into your old home and execute a legdrop onto your floor. In seconds, his legdrop will move your furniture and other belongings to your new home. Do not tip him or he’ll use that money on a girl that looks more like Brooke Hogan than the one he previously dated.
At the height of wrestling's popularity, the New World Order was the definition of cool. Adults cheered for them because they brought an edge to the once family-friendly World Championship Wrestling. Teenagers loved the stable because they were rebellious and anti-establishment. Most of all, little kids admired Hollywood Hulk Hogan because they liked to paint beards on their faces as well. Over a decade later, the founders of the nWo could very well bring the band back together again. Once Big Gandalf (Kevin Nash) and Hulk Hogan lure Scott Hall from the shadows with a bulk pack of toothpicks, the New World Order will take over TNA. Then again, scratch that thought. WWE owns the rights to the nWo. Oh well. Nevertheless, I'm sure they can call themselves something cool, like the New World Joy Luck Club. Bring that thought back again.
As for me, I want nothing more than to see Hall, Nash, and Hogan back in the ring. Sadly, I don't think TNA will grant my ultimate wish: the return of core New World Order member Michael Wallstreet. You were balling for real, Rotundo.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Conversations with Batman: Rate of Exchange
*****
NEXT WEEK
Ric Flair wins the North Carolina Education Lottery and buys his next five ex-wives. Might as well stock up on them for the winter.
AND
I will eat a bowl of cherries and some ghost meat in his honour.
Shane O
January 15, 1970 is a day that will not be forgotten. Combining the powers of Vince and Linda McMahon's world-famous loins, the golden one known as Shane McMahon came into our world. Once the doctor assisted him out of his mother's womb, Shane danced his first ever Shane-O Shuffle. In response, the entire world stood up and cheered for the boy they thought would become their ultimate saviour. In 2009, the saviour is gone. Against my wishes, Shane McMahon has resigned from World Wrestling Entertainment, breaking free from the sports entertainment chains. Where will he go? I do not know. How long will he stay away? I cannot guess. Will he be doing the Shane-O Shuffle, no matter the occasion? You bet.
Shane's accomplishments in World Wrestling Entertainment are infinite. He is a former European and Hardcore Champion. Also, that is all. Then again, legends are not measured by the gold around their waist, but by their impact on the business as whole. As Shane leaves the company that his own family built with their narrow-minded, stubborn hands, his impact is clear. Before he entered the squared circle, the wrestling world had never seen a wrestler who did everything he could to not execute a wrestling move. When a wrestler pulled off a suplex, Shane reacted by giving him the Coast 2 Coast with a trash can. When his opponent pulled off a submission hold, Shane would squirm out of that move and give him the Coast 2 Coast with a trash can positioned slightly askew. In other words, Shane innovated professional wrestling for the better.
Back at the McMahon family home — where every family member resides, creating an inconvenient and uncomfortable Full House situation — Vince, Linda, Stephanie, and Hunter are not taking the news well. Vince McMahon has refused to leave the living room, preferring to distract himself by watching current films like B*A*P*S. At the same time, Linda McMahon is searching through YouTube, flagging any video that hurts her run for senate. Without her big brother around, Stephanie McMahon is playing with his complete collection of Rollerball action figures. He has duplicates of LL Cool J. In the bathroom, Triple H is listening to Air Supply while thumbing through a photo album, which captures the good times he had with Shane at the roller disco.
Dear Shane; you will be missed. We will miss the way you wowed us as an on-air personality, hurling childish insults like nobody's business. As a part-time wrestler, you clearly proved that McMahons who wrestle once or twice per year are superior to individuals who frequently wrestle for their livelihood. Wherever the Mean Street Posse may be (I assume they are in heaven), I bet they are proudly looking down on you, grinning from sweater vest shoulder to shoulder. You did well. Now, let me tell you why we need you back.
Your name is Shane McMahon, and you are the master of gingerly falling from high places. As a result, you must be skilled at gingerly falling from low places as well. After all, many low places put together equal one high place. Out of all those falls, perhaps my favourite type of fall is the one you did on your head. Whatever you do, don't be modest, Shane. A thousand brain busters to a thousand WWE Superstars cannot match up to the brain-busting fall you took in that 2001 King of the Ring match with Kurt Angle. Despite Kurt's tireless effort to suplex you through that glass pane, you determined to fall head first onto that sweet arena concrete. You could have kept it safe by wearing some sort of comical pimp chapeau, but you decided to make one of those immortal King of the Ring memories instead. Risking your health and life, your head fell badminton birdie style onto that floor. I don't know about your neighbourhood, but in my neighbourhood, that sort of act makes you a megastar.
Your ability to fall on your head has humbled this soft spoken gentleman, who uses a helmet whenever he needs to fall on his head. In this era of low-risk, formulaic wrestling, WWE needs a person like you who can teach others how to almost inflict permanent damage to their brain. Redundant and repetitive storylines, matches, and personalities are not the factors that are hurting the wrestling business. In my opinion, the fact that nobody knows how to properly fall on their head is most troublesome. Without these falls, the current crop of WWE Superstars will never know what neck surgery feels like. I never had one myself, but I'm guessing it tingles.
In all my years of analyzing professional wrestling, I have seen numerous instances in which a wrestler will convincingly punch another wrestler in the face. Supposedly, wrestling schools teach their students how to make grazing contact with their punches in order to make it look as though they are actually punching others. Therefore, these students are amateurs compared to you, who has the best punches in the business. Since you are no longer with World Wrestling Entertainment, who is going to punch at nothing? Lately, Randy Orton has been quite healthy, showing no physical signs of a cold or a flu. For me, that is terrible news because that means you have not been around to punch the air in front of Randy, creating a cold-inducing draft. To my dismay, Randy's bill of health will remain cleaner than clean.
Your flurry of punches rivals that of Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali, if Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali were pastry chefs rather than legendary boxers. To this day, I believe that swine flu was caused by Shane McMahon pulling off lefts and rights in a crowded, Mexican hog pen. Even Stephanie McMahon's Special Slap, a finishing move that is illegal in fifty-seven countries, cannot compete with the power of your punch. Whenever mother nature's windy punch blows right by me, missing by several inches, I shall think of your punch and gently weep in memoriam.
The day that Kane tied you to the ring post and shocked your man business was special. For you, it was special because your man business was running low on energy and needed a boost. For the fans, the electrocution left them wanting more. "More testicular violence," they said, angrily and passionately with their salivating mouths. Although you never went for seconds, I hoped your WWE future would hold another battery-powered incident. Because you are leaving, you'll never get another chance to repeat history.
With your absence, WWE’s need to see this visual has skyrocketed. Every member of the RAW roster wants to try it for themselves. Surely, this electrocution shall make them the envy of all their friends. I'm not on RAW at the moment, but with this trend, I wish I was. The amount of times I get to electrocute my balls is minimal. I feel like half of a man without car battery cables on my Member to Remember. If anybody asks, let's just pretend I have that type of connection there. You should do the same, Shane. Wherever you go, people are going to ask why you don't have your junk hooked up to a car battery. What are you going say? You've got nothing. Please come back so your chestnuts may roast on that electrical fire once more.
X-Punk. Which Way Did He Go? Vince, We Have A Problem. These sayings will forever live in infamy for one reason and one reason only: they were on your baseball jerseys. You were never a professional baseball player. You never hit a home run, pitched a perfect game, or took performance enhancing drugs to hit home runs and pitch perfect games. Even though Cooperstown wasn’t calling for you, we knew the deal. With those baseball jerseys on your back, fans everywhere knew that you were a professional ass kicker. One look at your jersey-adorned person sent shivers through the spineless spines of your rivals. You had the sculpted body of a Greek god, yet you chose to hide it under a sculpted jersey, occasionally worn by such gods on game day. Good choice.
In addition to your wondrous jersey, loose track pants and a pair of sneakers completed your major league attire. In a land where muscly giants donned glittery spandex, leather, and nylon, you stood out from the bland crowd. Some say your appearance made you look like an out-of-shape physical education teacher who lived in his car, but I always disagreed. At worst, I told them that you resembled an out-of-shape jogger with low self-esteem. For hours, we argued back and forth, until I held up an actual picture of an out-of-shape jogger with low-esteem. In the end, I won the battle and the war. You're welcome in advance.
Back in the day, you were serious business. When Shane McMahon stepped into the building, money followed. World Wrestling Entertainment is a multi-million dollar corporation, but Shane McMahon was the one who gave them that money through his presence alone. If you listen closely to Naughty by Nature's "Here Comes The Money" and play it backwards every other second, you will hear a subliminal message that suggests a correlation between Shane and monetary bills. Unless you return post haste, the message will be lost. We will have no money, yet more problems. Think of what the WWE stockholders will do when they discover that the money is no more. In a panic, they might stumble upon Total Nonstop Action and invest the rest of what they have over there. Do not let these great people waste their money on TNA. Let them waste it on your father and the greater people of WWE.
According to your catchy theme — which touches upon real-world, money-related issues that are plaguing today’s society — money talks. If the wrestling fans' money could talk, they would tell you that are you needed in WWE. Without you in the company, your sister will rule the promotion, touching upon issues such as growing up and continuing to grow in the upwards direction. The WWE Universe doesn't need to grow upwards or downwards for they are never going to get any more mature than they are now. You may think that the WWE Universe consists of little children, but you would be wrong. In actuality, those little children are malnourished elderly people. In this economy, elderly people need two things: scooters rolling on dubs and money for their baby nanas. You, Shane McMahon, can give them at least one of those things.
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Swerved Presents: Dream Match the 78th
I'm returning
As I run my knees are aching
And you see my back can't hold up
With all these matches I'm wrestling
Between all of the hirings and firings
I pump my fist up in the air
In these dated tights I wear
Trying to save my own career
But he thinks he's awesome (He thinks he's awesome)
This Monday, I woke up many years older
Years ago I looked much younger
But I just chose to come back anyway
I'd get a payday anyway
And there would be no windows
No breakable barbershop windows
When I'd show myself again
But he thinks he's awesome (He thinks he's awesome)
He thinks he's awesome
So what if he gets to pin me?
I've got many more appearances in me
And I'm good friends with other old guys
He thinks he's awesome
So what if he gets to beat me?
Though I don't think the youthful crowd can say
That they know who the hell I am today
The Question:
Who wins and how?
*****
NEXT WEEK
Don't go, Shane McMahon. There's no soft cushions where you're falling.
AND
A book hasn't caused this much trouble since Where's Waldo went to that barber pole factory.
Frights
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.
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Swerved Presents: Dream Match the 77th
Iron Man vs. Jeremy Irons
Jeremy Irons will make you sad
He's not the Lion King, but his character killed Simba's dad
As uncle Scar, with claws extended
That dust in the air spelled sex, which Disney never mentioned
Theatre actor
That's Jeremy Irons
Unlike Robert Downey, Jr.
That's Jeremy irons
The Question:
Who wins and how?
*****
NEXT WEEK
In the surprise move of the year, I attain the WWE Divas Championship by capturing it in a gigantic butterfly net.
AND
Eat your salad before it gets cold.
Top Rope Theatrics: Part 2
When the internet was invented by yours truly in the early 1900s, I never expected the likes of Top Rope Theatre to rear its beautiful head. Like you, I was weary of the internet. At first, the idea of an information super highway sounded scary, dangerous, and more difficult to drive through than an information regular highway. I wasn't ready for the traffic. I wasn't ready to have my life threatened by a road-raged, fat man in a suit, wielding a thermos in one hand and a machete in the other. I couldn't understand how this world wide web could enrich my very being. Then, one day, Top Rope Theatre came along and changed everything.
Today, I continue to revisit the instant classic that is Top Rope Theatre. When your life is down in the dumpiest of dumps, Top Rope Theatre will be there to pull you up again. Before I watched this program, I never experienced happiness. Time after time, I would attempt to buy it in temporary doses, but I never got something that could last. As I exist before you this week, I thank Top Rope Theatre for making me happy. In my opinion, you must watch this show. I don't like to blow things out of proportion, but if you don't watch this show, a hellish sea monster from the deep will leap from the muddy waters and devour you and your loved ones. I wouldn't want that to happen. You shouldn't want that to happen, either.
The suspense is killing me slowly with its suspenseful song. If I don't find out what is to become of WWE legends Jim Duggan and Irwin R. Shyster, I will probably not find out. I can't deal with that kind of reality. I am strong on the outside, but on the outside, I have a creamy centre. The consistency is nougat-like, but it is not genuine nougat. I cannot explain it in words with much accuracy. You will have to taste it for yourself. By then, you should know what I'm talking about when I refer to the term "nougat-like." Regardless, I am prepared to be shocked and awed. Top Rope Theatre will hit me with a double-axe handle of drama. With this news, my creamy centre is getting creamier.
If I don't talk to you again, I leave my valuables to you for I shall be lost in Top Rope Theatre for the remainder of my days. While RAW, Smackdown, and ECW provide fans with sports in an entertaining fashion, I will be on the internet, sitting in my comfy, top rope seat.
On this episode of Jon and Kate Plus 8, a shirtless John Cena promotes Gilette Fusion Power. Sorry, John Cena. If you can't impress the ladies with a shirt, you are no ladies man. I'm currently wearing ten shirts on top of one another. As Shad and JTG get in Irwin R. Shyster's face, IRS is wearing some sort of Amish interrogation suit. Well, it's not entirely Amish. A WWE seamstress used some electricity to make it.
Mickie James appears behind Shyster and demands to know the whereabouts of one "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan. Shyster says he doesn't know where Hacksaw is. He claims that kidnapping is almost as bad as not paying your taxes. In conclusion, Irwin R. Shyster has never kidnapped someone before. You should try it. It feels pretty good. After Cryme Tyme puts a black bag over IRS' head, Shyster warns them that they better release him by April 15th. In turn, Mickie insists that he won't make it to April 15th. I'm guessing IRS and Duggan have been released by now. If not, there are two kidnapped skeletons out there, somewhere in the ether. One is carrying a 2x4, infested with termites. The other is wearing an Amish interrogation suit. Termites haven't touched the suit because it is not made of out wood. In addition, it is Amish.
Let's all go to the lobby. Let's all go to the lobby. Let's all go to the lobby to swap our hostages. Chris Jericho has the final word on personal style, which is why he uses the Gilette Fusion Power razor. If he keeps up with that attitude, I'm not going to use the Gilette Fusion Power razor at all. In place of the razor, I think I will use a butcher knife in the dark and see what happens. With her hostage in tow, Mickie asks an individual if he or she has Hacksaw. From another corner, Kelly Kelly brings out a man in a black cloak and says that they are being watched. Of course they are being watched. This is Top Rope Theatre — the number one episodic, internet, WWE soap opera in the history of episodic, internet, WWE soap operas. In fact, I'm watching them right now. For someone who is being watched, Kelly Kelly sure walks in a sultry manner. The only time I'd walk like that is if I was running from a killer in a horror movie and had to cross a fashion runway to escape. At that moment, I'd work it.
In anticipation for the exchange, Mickie unmasks IRS, who wore his glasses under that thing the whole time. What does he need to see in that bag? Nothing? When Kelly unmasks her hostage, former professional wrestler and current WWE backstage worker Tony Garea shows his face. Because everyone knows who Tony Garea is, this surprise was rather pleasant. Mickie accuses Kelly Kelly of the old double-cross, only for Kelly to deny that she had any knowledge of the double-crossing. How is she going to sexily walk out of this predicament? Next, Tony Garea stresses that he is "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan, USA chants and all. I bought it at first, until I found out that I had eyes that could see. Suddenly, Goldust makes an appearance. He asks IRS to help him with his taxes. Shyster replies that Goldust not only needs help with his taxes, but requires assistance on other things as well. Yeah, like retrieving his receipts. He thought they were in a shoebox, but now Goldust doesn't remember. How could he be so careless with his receipts?
Give me an hour alone with Kelly Kelly and she will know who her daddy is... for I will conduct a lengthy and thorough private investigation and reveal my findings within that hour. While Kelly is trying to sleep, think, or regain control of her digestive system (her facial expression is vague), the spirit of "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan questions why she won't help him. After stressing that he will never be free without her help, Duggan reveals a secret. Kelly insists that her father is a claims adjuster, which is slang for set piece designer of softcore erotica. In a startling revelation, "Hacksaw" says that he is Kelly Kelly's father. Therefore, Kelly Kelly's real name is "Hacksaw" Duggan Duggan. I think that's how it works. To be honest, I'm not sure.
Kelly Kelly replies that there is no way she came from Duggan's loins. I agree with Kelly. Jim Duggan is too attractive to be her father. From this non-existent list of WWE legends in my hand, I think Kelly Kelly's father is a 7. In other words, her father is George "The Animal" Steele. His body was a hairy wonderland. Waking up from her dream, Kelly is relieved, only to find a 2x4 on the floor. Sorry about that, Kelly. The other day, I left my 2x4 near your backstage sofa. When I'm bored, I often compare certain appendages of mine to pieces of wood. Mine are larger. Plus, you can build more structures with them.
Tonight at 11, Cody Rhodes shaves his back. He hasn't learned anything from George "The Animal" Steele. Does he want to be popular with the ladies, or does he want to be Cody Rhodes? In a survey polling 100 people, 68 ladies said that a hairless Cody Rhodes is a 3. Meanwhile, 32 men were disgusted with the survey, but rated him a 4 somehow. Back in the never-ending hallway, Shad and JTG want nothing to do with a group of bounty hunters. This group includes Tommy "Where Dreams May Bounty Hunt" Dreamer, Dolph "Bounty Hunter Boba Dolph" Ziggler, Charlie "World's Greatest Bounty Hunter" Haas, Jamie "By Bounty-Hunting God" Noble, and Michael "Vintage Bounty Hunt" Cole. I don't know what Cryme Tyme is talking about here. I couldn't ask for a better team of bounty hunters. Their disgust must stem from that survey I conducted. Shad rated hairless Cody as a 5 before crossing it out and writing, "I am super straight. You got that, survey? I like girls." Sure you do, Shad. Sure you do.
Mickie James paces before the group and puts up a "substantial reward" for the bounty hunter who finds Duggan. Where I come from, a substantial reward means one of two things: sexual favours or party favours. Michael Cole looks like someone who has an insufficient number of neon-coloured kazoos. I'm rooting for him. In order to receive the reward, Mickie emphasizes that the bounty hunter must find Duggan alive. Cole ends the episode by saying, "Oh my!" You better get those party favours, Cole. Stop wearing newspaper.
When Jamie Noble and Michael Cole come together, their bodies interlock to form one gigantic robot I like to call "The Coblebot 3000." This robot wins lotteries and suffers backstage molestations in the intimate company of Heidenreich. The Coblebot 3000 shows promise, but needs more work. This is the hallway that never ends. And this is Michael Cole practicing his Cole-isms in said never-ending hallway. I like that Cole does not take himself too seriously. He pokes fun of his toolish announcing style and calls his fans "The Cole Miners." Then again, I don't take him seriously in the first place. By the way, "The Cole Miners" is no match for "The Cole-lition." You're living in the present, Michael Cole. Do you know why? I just gave you a gift.
In the middle of his "Cole Roll," Jamie Noble pitches a plan to him: Noble will pretend to rescue "Hacksaw" and Cole will collect the reward; as one, they will double-cross Cryme Tyme. Shad and JTG deserve it — especially Shad and his Ed Hardy t-shirt. In response, Michael Cole freaks out at him. He's freakin' Michael Cole. He's got non-astronaut Tang back at the hotel. He has an impressive Cole Pole. Despite Cole's hesitance to join Noble in his cause, Jamie tells him that the hard part is over. Behind a set of never-ending hallway doors stands a confused and hungry "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan, wondering what has happened to him. With the milk already poured, Cole and Noble are ready to add the Ovaltine. Oh my indeed, Cole. Today, it's non-astronaut tang. Tomorrow, it's non-astronaut Ovaltine. If you don’t want to be an astronaut, just say so. You can only avoid confrontation for so long.
That's nice of the mystery mastermind to take superstars, divas, and bounties alike out to dinner. Times are tough, but generosity is not for the mastery mastermind. Why yes. They are all ready to order. They will have the caviar-stuffed lobster in money sauce. Thanks again. Ready to turn in their hacksawing meal ticket to Mickie James, Jamie Noble asks Michael Cole if they are clear on the plan. At this point, Jamie Noble is wearing a leather jacket and other regular clothes. The mystery mastermind must have bought them for him. Your two for two, mystery mastermind. Michael Cole asks Noble if he looks like Todd Grisham, then recites the plan to him. How dare you compare yourself to the Pope Todd Grisham, even in jest. He's a papal treasure. You know what? Forget it. I don't want you to have those party favours. You don't deserve them anymore. Newspaper hats for life.
When Duggan wonders what Cole and Noble mean by pretending to hand him over to Mickie, Michael proposes to strike Duggan with a vintage slap across the face. Your two for two for making me angry, Michael Cole. You're pushing it. You're pushing it real good. Cole calls over Mickie James and Cryme Tyme to tell them the good news, though finds them laid out on the floor instead. Returning to tell his co-conspirator the bad news, he finds Noble and Duggan on the floor as well. To end the episode, he meets the off-camera, mystery mastermind. After offering him (or her) booze and almost-clean women, the mastermind knocks Cole out with a towel full of ether, made possible by my newfound, concentrated hatred for him. The fire still burns, Michael Cole.
The mystery man must use Gilette Fusion Power. How do you explain such a smooth and close shave? Sane people can’t shave that well. Announcer Howard Finkel explains that the mastermind behind this devious plot has orchestrated brilliant acts of larceny, blackmail, loitering, identity fraud, backstabbing, voyeurism, and even kidnapping. I don't know about you, but to me, this plot has Gilette Fusion Power written and shaved all over it. With their hands tied above their heads, Kelly Kelly and Mickie James squirm in place. This mastermind is a kinky genius. Also, he is WWE Hall of Famer Howard Luscious Finkel.
Mickie James tells Howard that he will never get away with this. Kelly Kelly states that someone will save them. Before the episode ends, Howard urges the audience to tune in next time for the epic conclusion of Top Rope Theatre. Howard Finkel is powered by Gilette Fusion Power. His head was always so shiny, but I never knew why. Now, I know. I should've told an adult or someone I trust. It’s too late. It’s over. I will have to live with this shame for the rest of my life.
Okay. I'm over it. Let's eat string cheese.
Channelling The Joker, Howard Finkel explains his plot in front of the Top Rope Theatre players. At the same time, he stares down at a cup of coffee. Obviously, he is reading from a script, carefully drawn with cream atop the coffee in the cup. He envisioned the WWE Universe to be nothing but piece and harmony, which is weird because I envisioned the WWE Universe to be a bunch of planets and stars. He stresses that each and everyone one of them is selfish, self-centered, and a "me" attitude. How can you be a "me" attitude? That doesn't make sense in Top Rope Theatre: the soap opera that makes perfect sense. Taking a drink from his cup, Howard coughs and collapses onto the floor. He shouldn't have drank the script.
Staring at him in silence, the group turns their attention to Michael Cole. He asks why they are looking at him. I'll tell you why they're looking at you, Michael. You insulted the Pope Todd Grisham. Now you are going to pay with your soul. According to The Undertaker, souls are equal in value to championship belts. I want yours so I can put it on my mantle. In his hand, Cole uncovers a small container of poison. One last time, he says, "Oh my!" and runs away. What an asscole.
In four weeks, the second season of Top Rope Theatre will begin. It is now October Something. Four weeks in Sports Entertainmentese must mean never.
Top Rope Theatre fell from the top rope and landed awkwardly below, touching my heart. Once Pope Todd Grisham receives an apology from Michael Cole, he shall bless the next season of this wonderful internet show.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Things in a Cell: Ice, Ice, Infant
NEXT WEEK
Nancy O'Dell and Maria Menounos bring out their secret weapon: Billy Bush, also known as Bushtista.
AND
She's really curious as to what was going on in that hatch.
Top Rope Theatrics: Part 1
Days of our Lives. The Young and the Restless. Passions. Top Rope Theatre. One of these things is not like the other. One of these things does not belong. Unlike the first three soap operas, I consider World Wrestling Entertainment's Top Rope Theatre to be the best drama in the history of professional wrestling dramas. Take that, other professional wrestling dramas that I cannot name at the moment. If you want intrigue, Top Rope Theatre has some for you. If you want thrills, you better get them on the top rope right now. And finally, if you want Derek — the WWE employee in charge of merchandise — you got yourself a loving spoonful of Derek. Who are you kidding? You can't get enough of Derek. Give in to temptation.
Even though Top Rope Theatre is not a new feature of WWE's official website, I can’t help myself. I must look back at the show that swept the online wrestling nation. Advertisers believe that wrestling fans are the lowest of the low brow, but how can they think such a thing when Top Rope Theatre is wallowing in its own excellence, right before their faces? On WWE.com, seventeen glorious episodes of Top Rope Theatre are available for viewing, ready to take you on a dramatic journey that you will not soon forget. Before I watched this show, I was wearing ten pairs of socks and pants. Without warning, Top Rope Theatre blew those socks and pants clean off my body.
As a professional wrestling analyst, people assume that I am a surly and pessimistic person. Since I aim to criticize, they think I can't enjoy the little things that make wrestling an entertaining entertainment sport. Today, I say to you that I am no such professional wrestling analyst. The job may make me six figures, but deep down, I am a fan like each and every one of you. I like what I like and I likes Top Rope Theatre.
In the future, I urge WWE to make more internet programs such as this one. Forget about your "Word Up." Leave "The Dirt Sheet" in its own filth. I am an individual who prefers theatrical entertainment at high elevations. Take me higher, World Wrestling Entertainment. Let me face the problem of low oxygen levels at such an altitude. I can handle it.
In the backstage hallway that never ends, "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan holds his 2x4 and sulks. I don't get Duggan. Whenever I'm walking down a never-ending backstage hallway with a 2x4 in my hands, I'm pretty happy at the prospect of encountering a tree house that is missing part of its wall. He comes across a concerned JTG, who is more concerned than usual because he still can't see through the writing on his sunglasses. Meanwhile, Shad Gaspard is concerned to a normal degree. After being snubbed from a spot in a WWE Intercontinental Title Tournament, Duggan tells Cryme Tyme that he will never win a championship. In response, JTG insists that he has an idea for Duggan that will be better than winning a title. If this idea involves Hacksaw cleaning the writing off his sunglasses, I think Duggan should decline.
Next week, Shad guarantees that Cryme Tyme is going to hook Duggan up with something. Maybe they can hook Duggan's 2x4 up with a nail. They share an awkward gangster handshake, which involves snapping your fingers as if you're from West Side Story. I don't have to pretend for I am from West Side Story. I will win the 2005 Royal Rumble tonight. That's right.
On this episode of Top Rope Theatre, we have buffering. A whole lot of buffering, which is the term that Michael Buffer uses when he is pleasuring the ladies. A snapshot recap of the previous, one-minute episode appears to remind everyone that they have bad, short-term memories. In the locker room, Duggan walks in with a stack of dollar-dollar bills. Apparently, the WWE Shop commercial that was a parody of the Geico commercial made him some sweet scratch, but I am not convinced. Maybe those bills represented the money he saved by switching to Geico. Cryme Tyme look in awe at the money, with JTG lowering his sunglasses to see the dough. If those sunglasses are going to impair his vision that much, perhaps JTG shouldn't wear them anymore.
Next week, Cryme Tyme insist that the real money will come in next week. I knew Duggan's money was fake. Those bills looked too motionless to me. I bet they felt like over-inflated European handballs. Cryme Tyme ends the video by teaching Duggan how to do the gangster handshake while agreeing with them when they say, "Money, money." I won't agree with them until I get my hands on some natural money in this piece.
This episode of Top Rope Theatre is brought to you by the video recap. Recapture the moment. Recapture life. After Cryme Tyme mumbles a few ways to punch adversaries in the grill, "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan shows up with more money than before. JTG is impressed because he finally sees clearly now. His sunglasses are gone. Cryme Tyme congratulates Duggan for a job decently done, though "Hacksaw" wonders if what they're doing is legal. I'm sure it is legal for two African-Americans and one, middle-aged, Caucasian male to talk in an empty locker room. This is 2009, not 1009.
Cryme insists that what they're doing is, in fact, legal. Next week, Cryme Tyme informs Duggan they will use the money he has made to make more money. As they say, money doesn't grow on trees. They grow on other money. Top Rope Theatre is getting intense. I don't think I can take the suspense much longer. Soon enough, I may have to switch to Middle Rope Theatre, which is a much less dangerous form of theatre.
Before this episode begins, I would like to tell everyone that I am back on the top rope. I attribute my newfound confidence to several heavy doses of Human Confidence Hormone (HCH). On this top rope, I will perform a Shooting Star Press through flaming hoops into a pile of piranhas, or I will simply watch this next episode. I believe I will do the latter. In the never-ending hallway, JTG asks Shad to speak to Duggan on a walkie-talkie. Duggan is old school, but he's probably too old school. I get that he isn't a part of the cell phone generation. With that said, he should own a pager. Without an answer, JTG takes the walkie-talkie and announces that Phase 3 of their plot is starting. Duggan doesn't know about Phase 3. If anything, Phase 3 is too current for him. He communicates with a walkie-talkie, fellows.
A mysterious female voice, referring to herself as "Jackrabbit Slim," responds to Cryme Tyme's message. Jackrabbit Slim is a horrible codename. What happens if Jackrabbit Slim gains a few pounds? It would be over. Speaking of gaining a few pounds, Mickie James — the current WWE Divas Champion — appears to greet Shad and JTG. By the way, my apologies. Bad jokes don't belong on the internet. They are the internet. Mickie asks Cryme Tyme to cut the charade for she is Jackrabbit Slim. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. That wasn't a bad joke after all. It was only in bad taste. Score one for me. Minimal weight gain. This HCH is really working. In the end, Mickie wants in to something. I assume she means the plot. Fair enough.
Looks like Duggan, James, and Cryme Tyme are doing the good old Earl Hebner Special. Oh, Human Confidence Hormone makes me feel so good. At the same time, why does everybody else feel so bad? Do they need any Human Confidence Hormone? I can lend some to them. Just say when and I will call for the bell and sprint the hell out of Montreal. Backstage, Mickie James flirts with Derek (a WWE employee from the merchandise department) to get a hold of those sweet, sweet, discounted Mordecai tea cozies. In 2006, I would have fallen for it, but not now. No skirt, no service. Derek proves he is weak by falling for Mickie's charms.
Aiding as a convenient distraction, Mickie allows Duggan to sneak up behind Derek and snag some t-shirts. As Duggan slinks away, he meets Irwin R. Shyster, who shakes his head in disgust. Why don't you stop judging "Hacksaw" and start doing somebody's taxes, IRS? Duggan doesn't need your scorn. At the very least, he needs a pager.
For your information, arena cops are similar to mall cops, except they have less authority and Segways. Also, "Big Dick" Richard Johnson cannot be a cop for he already has a job as a big, oily, and fat male stripper who doubles as an official member of the RAW roster. I think he took Duggan's spot in that WWE Intercontinental Title Tournament. This episode begins with Mickie and Hacksaw opening up a silver briefcase in the never-ending hallway. The briefcase lights up because I think there are lights inside of it. As Mickie proclaims this day to be the greatest ever, Richard Johnson enters the never-ending hallway to clip on his tie. Clip-on ties are lame. In my opinion, paint-on ties are fashionable. Officer Johnson tells Mickie and Duggan that he is watching them, along with Cryme Tyme. In this economy, he sure watches a lot of people when he could be stripping.
When Mickie recognizes Johnson as the stripper, he flips out at them. Look, Richard Johnson. Don't take that tone with Mickie James and Jim Duggan. Your moustache does not give you the right to yell at people. Only your g-string has the right, but you’re wearing regular underwear at the moment, aren’t you? While Johnson tries to arrest the two and take their case, James and Hacksaw make a run for it. Strip your way out of this predicament, Giant Ricardo.
You know, The Riddler has a mysterious package. When he wanders around Gotham in his question-mark Underoos, leaving clues for Batman, he calls the man region his mysterious package. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope they're not looking for that package. Rey Mysterio has something called a mysterious package, too. Although, I don't think his package is a mystery to anyone for it is the biggest little package. Previously on Top Rope Theatre, lights were found in a briefcase. This time on Top Rope Theatre, Mickie James and Cryme Tyme have an argument about returning phone calls to each other in the never-ending hallway. Since never-ending hallways usually have poor reception, they should forgive and forget. Two bars is always unacceptable. While they try to figure out the whereabouts of one "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan, Kelly Kelly interrupts the argument carrying a mysterious package, addressed to Cryme Tyme. If this package comes from Jeremy Piven, our family band is over. I'm taking Kelly off tambourine. Don't test me.
Inside the package lies a broken 2x4, an American flag, and a note: "I know what you're up to. I know your plan. Surrender your profits to me, or your friend will face the consequences." What a relief. Jeremy Piven doesn’t talk that way, which means that Dr. Ken is the sender. On second thought, that realization is not much of a relief.
Stop getting into other people's business, IRS. Don't bring Kelly Kelly into this auditing scheme either. Despite her flaws and poor decisions in life, she is a good girl. She knows her way around a tambourine. In Schyster's office, which is made up of a chair, a desk, and two pictures on the wall, Kelly Kelly wonders what he plans to do with "Hacksaw." At this moment, she shows concern by wearing a pink, torn t-shirt with her bra exposed. In my view, that is the appropriate means to show concern. Kelly tells IRS that she does not want her friends to get hurt, but Irwin is having none of it. They are not paying taxes with the money they are making. Plus, they got that briefcase with lights in it.
With Shyster doing her taxes, Kelly has reluctantly chosen to help him in his scheme. Wait. Kelly Kelly has taxes? That's not possible. I thought the government excused attractive people from doing taxes. The Canadian government has excused me for years. I don't even pay tax when I buy things. Rather than charging tax on my purchases, stores give me freshly-baked cookies instead. If Kelly Kelly could play tambourine as well as she could act, she wouldn't be very good.
You deserve it, Irwin R. Shyster. Hostage-taking is what you get for bringing Kelly Kelly into your plan. In the never-ending hallway, Kelly Kelly asks Mickie if it is safe to talk there. In my experiences with never-ending hallways, they are safe for quiet discussions, but I wouldn't throw a penny down one. You're never going to get it back. Kelly informs Mickie that Duggan will be harmed if they don't do something quick. Before Kelly reveals who has Duggan hostage, Cryme Tyme walks in with a box of IRS' things. Hostage exchange next week, homeboy. Yeah, yeah-uh.
Cryme Tyme loves hostage exchanges. One hostage goes there, and the other goes over there. So awesome. Taxes, taxes. No, no. If someone ever tried to make me pay taxes, I'd throw those taxes down the never-ending hallway.
Monday, October 05, 2009
Things in a Cell: Condiments in Hellish Condominiums
NEXT WEEK
In order to clean up the mess that Michael Cole made at the Smackdown Tenth Anniversary Party, the Pope Todd Grisham vomits sawdust on Chris Jericho.
AND
I'm the memory you can't get out of your head. If I leave you now, you'll wish you were somewhere else instead.
The Ceiling
The gift of song has told us that the children are our future. As for World Wrestling Entertainment, the rising talent of today are the superstars of tomorrow. World Championship Wrestling failed as a promotion for its inability to elevate young stars to the next level. On second thought, WCW realized their error, but their realization came about three years too late. Without competition, Vince McMahon and WWE can do what they want with their talent roster, but they must be careful. Soon enough, they too may suffer the same fate of their former counterpart. Triple H, Shawn Michaels, and the Undertaker can only wrestle in a convincing fashion for so long until their matches appear as though twenty year olds are trying to beat up their great-grandfathers from Florida.
Arguably, the current roster is the greatest mix of talent and personalities in the history of the company. In the main event scene, you have a steady group of heavyweight stars. In the mid- and low-card, you have your share of fast and technically-sound lightweights. On the other hand, what is talent if you don't use it right? In my eyes, World Wrestling Entertainment is guilty of two things. First of all, they are guilty of loving too much. Secondly, they are guilty of overexposing their main event, creating top-heavy shows that fail to promote new wrestlers in a meaningful way. You would think that WCW's demise has given WWE reason to deviate from their formula. Yet, here we are in 2009, watching the same main event matches over and over again. If I could only see Randy Orton versus Triple H one last time, I would finally be happy.
Vince McMahon and WWE will always make money. They were millionaires before, and they will continue to be millionaires until they are unable to make any more John Cena merchandise. Although, with the way they handle their younger wrestlers, they don't seem like they want to make as much money as possible. Moderation is a good thing, but Vince has never been one for moderation. Over the years, I have presented methods for WWE to make many a fortune, but they chose to ignore me. So, go ahead and put on your earmuffs, WWE. If you're not listening, I don't feel like talking to you. I'm too busy rolling in all this money you don't want.
The glass ceiling of WWE cannot be seen by the naked eye, but my fully-clothed eye can see it clearly. Future superstars, get your Tylenol. You're about to bump your heads against that ceiling for several years. That is some strong glass.
Without much effort, Yoshi Tatsu has become a star in ECW. Maybe it's the way he bows and says, "Thank you." Maybe it's his superior karaoke skills. Maybe — just maybe — it's his crazy hair. I bet he told his hairdresser to make him look like a flamboyant magician. Tatsu's hairdresser obliged until he became the victim of a freak hair-drying accident. As a reminder of his fallen friend, Tatsu has kept that bit of blonde in his hair. I, for one, salute you, Yoshi.
I can count the number of successful Asian wrestlers in WWE on one hand, three of which are Tajiri. My apologies. I don’t count well in low-pressure situations. In my opinion, Yoshi Tatsu has a long road ahead of him — a road full of Asian jokes involving chopsticks, sushi, and karate. While he may get over that hump that Asian wrestlers before him could not, that is a mighty big hump. Funaki is trying to karate chop that hump as we speak. If Funaki can't become a world champion, Yoshi can forget about it. He should give up now. He might as well put a saddle on his back and start transporting Mario around the Mushroom Kingdom.
When he was the most exciting part of ECW, Evan Bourne was a true superstar. Not only could he show off his high-flying moves in lengthy matches, he didn't have to compete for screen time with the likes of Triple H, Shawn Michaels, John Cena, Randy Orton, Ted DiBiase, Cody Rhodes, Chris Jericho, The Big Show, and Jerry Lawler's glittery t-shirts. As of this writing, Evan Bourne is a floundering fish at the bottom of the RAW sea, struggling to get one minute of exposure against The Bella Twins, who get to appear on Monday nights for no reason. If I had a twin, we would run roughshod over WWE so fast. We would be twice as sexy, smart, and powerful as Nikki and Brie. Scantily clad, we would carry large barbells over our heads, wearing old-fashioned moustaches and singlets. At the same time, we would teach nuclear science to inner-city schoolchildren.
You might think that Broune palling it up with Hornswoggle is good for his career, but I beg to differ. Take one retrospective look into Hornswoggle's life in WWE and you shall see the truth. With Hornswoggle, Finlay, the Belfast Bruiser, turned into a guy who loved to do fanciful jigs and carry inflatable shillelaghs. In opposition to the leprechaun, Chavo Guerrero, the Mexican Warrior, became a punching bag in cow's clothing. If Bourne continues to associate himself with Hornswoggle, he will never get to that next level, that upper echelon of RAW. He will never get to steal the WWE United States Championship, which has been passed around like a town prostitute riding a bicycle as of late. I'm sure that is how the saying goes. That town prostitute gets around alright. She transports herself from one place to another via bicycle. She doesn't make enough money to buy her own car.
Together, Carlito and Primo Colon were an efficient and entertaining tag team. Before they came along, I never thought talented portions of the large intestine could become the first ever WWE Unified Tag Team Champions. In the end, they proved me wronger than wrong. Despite their success, tag teams don't last forever in WWE, especially if they consist of brothers. Now that they are apart, Carlito and Primo simply exist as members of the RAW roster. They are just there. Carlito is with Rosa Mendes sometimes, apparently teaching her how to not wrestle. As for Primo, he is pumping his fists and doing cartwheels in the back as everyone stands before him, wondering if has come from the year 1985. For the sake of the goodness in all of us, they could have been the next Hardy Boyz, except more Puerto Rican. If WWE still wants Rosa Mendes to be with Carlito, she could have been their Lita. She can land on her head, almost breaking her neck, too. She does it all the time. She does it in her sleep.
Without his brother, I don't see a bright future for Primo. Go ahead, young man. Come out to an entrance theme that sounds like Rico Suave invaded Gloria Estefan's recording session at gunpoint. I don't think it matters when you, your children, and your grandchildren will be facing Jack Swagger on WWE Superstars until the end of time. By the way, the end of time is the year 2012. At that time, go down with the rest of them, or join John Cusack in a charter plane. Whether he is RAW, Smackdown, or ECW, Primo Colon is not prime colon. He is B-Grade at best.
For those of you who doubt WWE's love for Dolph Ziggler, please refer to The Rock's tremendous promo on the Tenth Anniversary Edition of Smackdown. You didn't hear about Ted DiBiase, nor did The Rock talk about Cody Rhodes. Who in the phthalo blue hell is Dolph Ziggler, you say? Dolph is the next great WWE megastar, I say. He'll appear in several WWE Films, including Boogie Days, which is about a child film star who carries around a prosthetic lunchbox. If you ask me, that lunchbox looks kind of real. I have never seen another man's lunchbox in my life, but compared to mine, that looks real. You know what else is real? The Ziggling One, zigzagging his way to the top of World Wrestling Entertainment.
Critics claim that Dolph Ziggler will have a difficult time becoming a top star with such a ridiculous name. In the past, Val Venis' name alone prevented him from turning into a respected champion. While Dolph Ziggler is not the best name you could give a wrestler, I think his talent and charisma will pick up the slack. Look at the Undertaker. Look at The Ultimate Warrior. How about The Big Show? Also, Kurt Angle. What do all they have in common? Stupid, cartoonish, and cheesy names. Oh, Kurt Angle. Next time, come up with a name that doesn't sound fake, sir.
Kurt? Seriously? Kurt Angle? That name makes you laugh out loud as you roll on the floor, losing your ass. I retain my ass, though. That's how I do.
With Zack Ryder as a member of its roster, Extreme Championship Wrestling becomes a whole lot douchier. To me, Zack Ryder's New Jersey Guido gimmick is excellent. Say what you will about his asymmetric tights, but he sure has a recognizable character. At least he isn't one half of The Major Brothers. Unlike his former tag team partner Curt Hawkins, Ryder has made an impact. In comparison, a pin drop makes an impact on ECW, though Ryder has done it in an entertaining fashion. I don't know whether to shake his hand or punch him in the face. Although I can say the same for every new person I meet, I'm using Zack Ryder as the most glaring example. Woo, woo, woo. This is known to you.
I cannot say that Zack Ryder will be a future world champion. He may very well become an ECW Champion, but WWE has taught me that the ECW Championship doesn't count. Thanks, Vincent Kennedy McMahon. For me, Ryder is missing a little something to be considered world champion material. Perhaps, the douche that is Zack Ryder is missing a hot chick to complement him. Judging by the current Divas roster, several do the opposite of wrestling. Therefore, why not give Ryder some arm candy? Layla could do it. Maria could do it. Put Mike Knox in a wig and he could do it. Friggin' pretty, people.
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