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The following was written in real time! It's just that I traveled through time and just arrived today to post it. True Story. I was also pretty bombed whilst watching and recapping this. So, bear with me. And maybe donate a liver.
Hey there PPV Fans, and welcome to my drunken Recapitation for CYBER SUNDAY~! The PPV where YOU have a voice. It's just so really ironic that you still keep saying what they want anyway.  Anyhoo, as announced by WWE, tonight was OUR night. It just *felt* like we were somewhat disappointed. So, by the standards of feeling like we wasted our money, clearly this show DELIVERED and was a rousing success. You see, I prefer to look at the glass as half whatever. I'm an optimist when it comes to being negative.
Tonight's show came to us from Washington D.C.! Oh my god, like totally seriously. Man, it's good to see they maintained their current status quo of voting completely poorly. Good for them.
We open up with Finlay vs. Rey Mysterio, which of course is Spanish for King of Mystery. I wonder which Mystery it is tonight? I hope it's one of those Angela Lansbury ones where she gets invited to a party and then someone dies. Which kinda happens at all the parties she gets invited to. YET, THEY STILL KEEP INVITING HER. Wait. what were we talking about again?
We go to the control center, with Tard Grisham to find out the stipulations! The control center, for the record, much like the set, is computer themed. And not Commodore 64's either. Despite this company's booking being as equally relevant to the times. And the winner is: STRETCHER MATCH with 40% of the vote~! Up next was No DQ with 36%! That's right, 36% percent of WWE fans don't want Rey or Finlay to have ANY Dairy Queen no matter how hot and sweaty they get. NO PEANUT BUSTER PARFAITS ALLOWED ANYWHERE IN THE RINGSIDE AREA. In last place was Shillelagh On A Pole match with 24%. 23% of that vote came from Vince Russo alone who voted repeatedly for it. Imagine that. Maybe one day his dream of a Pole on a Pole match can finally come true. In it, each man scales an 8 foot pole, and the first one to get to the top gets another 8 foot pole in which he can use on his opponent IN ANY WAY HE CHOOSES. YES. Then 15 guys run in from the back and awkwardly prevent each other from rolling into the ring. The last man standing gets a bye to the semi-finals where they lose and are eliminated anyway. It's awesome. They don't call Vince Russo a genius for anything...
Rey Mysterio vs. Finlay.
Anyway, Stretcher match prevailed, and stretcher match is what we got. For the record, the only way to win the match is to place your beaten opponent on the stretcher and dump him over a line. Man. How the fuck did a Stretcher match mutate from brutal and potentially career ending to just basically the world's shittiest grocery cart ride? OH NO, HE'S WHEELING HIM ON A PADDED BED MAYBE 15 FEET BEFORE STOPPING AND FORGETTING ABOUT THE WHOLE THING! THE HUMANITY OF IT ALL! But hey, up until the point the actual stretcher ride made its appearance, this match kicked all kinds of ass. Or one kind. Since they're all just basically leg halves with assholes in the middle, right? Right? Exactly.
Oh, since you asked , which I know you didn't, but hey, play along anyway, the Shillelagh was hanging on a pole in the corner, as if that was maybe the stipulation they wanted all along and decided "Fuck it. We're incorporating it anyway!". But that's just silly. I think I know a completely spontaneous pole mounted Shillelagh when I see one. Both men fight over the stick, because holy shit am I tired of spellchecking Shillelagh (FUCK!), with Rey eventually countering Finlay's attempt with a top rope sunset flip! YES! And not too soon. Because any non wrestling fans out there accidentally catching glimpse of this must be wondering why this angry old man in his wife's one piece swimsuit is attempting to beat a small child in a Halloween costume to death with a tiny baseball bat. You know, much like I plan to this coming Wednesday night. TP my tree will ya...
From there, Rey acquires the Shillelagh (FUCK!). Why they couldn't incorporate a racially stereotyped item for Rey to use into his act is beyond me. Maybe a head of lettuce on a chain? I don't know. However, Finlay grabs the Shillelagh (FUCK!) and nails Rey right in the knee. Which is quite the feat when you consider Rey's kneecap is only about 4-6 inches from the ground. Finlay then tries to decapitate Rey by tossing the stretcher, but Rey ducks. Or just stands there. It's hard to tell sometimes. All I know is he survived being killed by a flying stretcher. Apparently Hospitals frown on this happening with gurneys or something. And having sex with patients whilst they're under anesthesia. WHAT HAPPENS IN THE AMBULANCE, STAYS IN THE AMBULANCE. Or maybe that was prison. I can't remember. It involved penises and prolonged grief counseling anyway.
The big finish comes when Rey hits a 619, and a springboard splash, but the finish gets fucked up because the gurney wheels get caught up in microphone cables. Still, the irony is that the Stretcher is still a better worker than say, Chris Masters, because it only blew one spot; and also Great Khali because it's actually mobile. It has a bright future in this business. If it works hard enough, maybe it can have half a career as promising as Ric Flair's broomstick. (*** EVERY NIGHT, baby!). Anyway, the stretcher botch forces Rey and Finlay to then improvise. That's right, the two pantomime a hilarious non-speaking comedy sketch with props. It's hilarious. Or maybe they just made up the match finish on the fly. Whichever. Finlay's swings at Rey with his Shillelagh (FUCK!) but Rey ducks, and Finlay flops on the stretcher long enough for Rey to cross the line. Booyaka Booyaka, 619. Something Something that's my Something! You know the tune! Sing along!
Winner: Rey Mysterio and us all.
Uh oh, backstage, we find out that Matt Hardy cannot compete tonight because he's injured. His eye is all kinds of messed up. So much for his boast of not dying. I've watched Highlander PLENTY OF TIMES, and that shit should have cleared up like 5 minutes after it went down. So, ya, DON'T TRY AND CUT HIS HEAD OFF. He's just a normal dude, like you and I. Anyway, that said we find out that MVP will still wrestle tonight. Reputedly against either Kane, GREAT KHALI OR MARK HENRY. Dear lord! Like that's not the most obvious vote choice in HISTORY. Or pretty close, anyway:
"Welcome to the Great Debate 2008! Featuring Presidential candidates: promising political maverick, Barack Obama, Peanut Covered Turd and Wet Paper Bag Full of Garbage. The choice is YOURS!
That said though, never in my life more have I ever hoped that the MVP vs. Matt stipulations are STILL in place. I think I could die a happy man if I saw Great Khali compete in a MMA match. Or hell, even the proposed "Wrestling match". I think I've yet to see Khali have one. You know, as opposed to whatever it is out there that he's trying to do. Blinking a lot and not falling over? Sounds about right.
GET TO WWE.COM AND HAVE YOUR VOICE HEARD~! And your Vote of course multiplied by 10 to pad the polls so they look like Wrestling is still cool. IT'S NOT TOO LATE! (YES IT IS!)
Hey, did you know there's a Diva Halloween Costume tonight? SERIOUSLY! Man, and here I thought we'd get ripped off and they'd just have it on Free TV and we'd just get some tedious shit like longer matches. Glad I was wrong!!!!! Ahem.
And oh ya, they hype it up, and look, there's Ron Simmons in his "Completely played out and no longer entertaining" Halloween costume.  Come on, say "Damn!" Say "Damn!" Haha, he said Damn. Best costume ever. Oh.
It's time for the ECW Title match! You had three choices. Well, four if you decided to not pay for MIZ TO CHALLENGE FOR THE ECW TITLE ON PAY-PER-VIEW. Dear god in heaven (Where else would he be?). Anyway, Miz won this vote with 39%. While John Morrison came in 2nd with 33%,  then no doubt shook his fist in anger in slow motion, and finally Big Daddy V came in last with 28% of the vote. But don't feel too bad for the big guy. He drowned his sorrows by giving himself three choices as well. Which high calorie meal would he consume backstage? It was a 3 way tie for the record, with a staggering 100% of it eaten. Good for him.
Miz vs. CM Punk for ECW Title! EC-Du(m)b!
Hey, get this. We all know The Miz refers to himself as a chick magnet, but did you know there was a time where the "CM" in Punk allegedly stood for Chick Magnet as well? Coincidence? Ya, completely. But I can totally relate. I too like to think of myself as a chick magnet. Unfortunately though, all the women must be of the same polarity as me, because they're always repelled. Oh well. What can you do? Not be disgusting and perverted? Probably.
Anyway, the two men start off with some chain wrestling, and not say, CHAIN SMOKING, because CM Punk's only addiction is competition. Hey, like Lindsay Lohan. Or maybe that was Heroin. And dick. I can't remember. All I know is, there better be a clinic for it. How cool would that be? You go for treatment, and after 8 weeks, you're cleansed of all your cravings to randomly pick people up your shoulders and then knee them in the face.
That said, in this matchup, the fans have chosen to embrace ECW's extreme attitude here, and pick up an extreme of their own: Apathy. Well, unless you count taunting Miz with insulting chants like "You can't Wrestle" after he tried to apply a European headlock. Which you see is just like a regular headlock, except way more pretentious and arrogant. YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN ME, HEADLOCK!. This however just brings on more "You can't Wrestle" chants. Huh. I chanted "You can't wrestle!" once. Of course, it was at a Baseball game. It went over about as well as you'd expect.  I don't even know how I got there. Ya, so, to hammer this home, and umm, not beat you to death with it, Punk eventually wins with the GO TO SLEEP. And I'll be damned that if in anticipation of this very hold, the audience didn't do just that for the last ten minutes. Dear lord.
Winner and STILL ECW Champion, CM Punk. Holy shit, the reaction to this match (although it was decent for what it was) didn't do Democracy any favors. All of a sudden, Communism is looking pretty fucking good. Wait. That's what WWE does the rest of the year. Forget I said that. Comrade.
With that in mind though, the fact this match even happened proved the voting is at least LEGIT. I mean, look how hard they pushed for Big Daddy V to get this slot, but to no avail. But come on, people! He's really big! What's wrong with you?! It'll be funny to see if Vince just stubbornly puts the ECW Title on him anyway. And I for one can't wait to see a guy who looks like someone left a Easter Egg sitting on Radiator representing an entire brand. I hope he, like Cena before him, gets a customized belt. I know just the one:
Anyway, speaking of big useless dudes, we get the hype for THE MONSTER MASH on ECW this week. My prediction (hope?) of all four men being crushed in a compactor simultaneously was proven false. It's a Battle Royal. Yay! 10 minutes of huge guys making sure other huge guys don't accidentally fall out of the ring by holding on to their legs under the guise that they're *really* trying to push them out. I can't wait. (Yes I can!).
Time to find out whose getting a prolonged series of restholds tonight!:
And the winner is HBK with 59%. Ken Kennedy came in last with 10%.......10%. And Jeff Hardy clocked in at 31%. Although, I heard, through his eyes it actually read 3131%. I can just picture his reaction. "Hey, man, why *burp* are you getting a title shot when I got like 3000% of the vote , man?"  It's a new kind of math: METHEMATICS.
However, as a result, we'll now see the two losers battle! It's Mr. Kennedy vs. Jeff Hardy. But not for the Intercontinental Title for some reason. I have no idea why. Maybe WWE's keeping their Title options open tonight in the case Triple H gets the spontaneous urge to win the WWE title a few times. You wouldn't want to spoil something that special!
Well, I'm not sad to see Mr. Kennedy not get the title shot. After last Monday's catch-as-catch can't wrestling debacle, I'm starting to think perhaps Fate saved us from a grave mistake many times this year. Who knew fate had the best interests of the industry at heart?
Anyway, these two actually have good chemistry, and why not? When you think chemicals, you think Jeff Hardy! Wait. that didn't come out right. Anyway, both men trade some chain wrestling early on, but eventually Kennedy gets a stiff DDT for a close 2 count. Jeff comes back, only for Kennedy to counter out of a Twist of Fate. Hardy then gets a Whisper in the Wind. Only not literally. Because dear god can you imagine wind made up entirely of multi-colored dudes with questionable drug habits? Jeff can. It's a sweet fucking high. I guess it could be worse. You could get caught in a Texas Tornado where you and your mobile home are sucked up into the clouds by a one foot Texan who punches way too much. (Stay away from the ocean, too. There be morbidly obese Typhoons in them there waters!).
Anyway, Hardy is in control, and hits a Mule kick. I once lost a farmhand job for the doing the same thing. You don't even want to know what I did to the sheep. Jeff then goes for his big corner dropkick, but Kennedy avoids the trouble, the only trouble he's bothered to avoid this year, and quickly gets the pin after Jeff hit the mat.
Winner: Mister Kennedy. But I have no doubt he and the "Rainbow Haired Warrior" will battle again. And speaking of which, when was the last time we had any "Rainbow haired Wars" to necessitate the needed warriors to fight in them? All I know is, remind me to never enlist in whatever fucking military that is. Although, I'm guessing the 'don't ask, don't tell' mandate has been suspended as far as haircuts go. That's one plus, I guess.
Backstage, we see potential Referees Mick Foley and JBL. They're alluding to the race between JBL and Austin being umm, (red)neck and (red)neck. I don't know about you, but I'm almost 100% sure they're not working us. And I say this because I just bought this awesome bridge in Manhattan for like next to nothing, and I'm riding pretty high right now.
Anyway, Foley ends up telling JBL he's the biggest Fat head in the arena. You see, "Fat head" is the sponsor of tonight's event. It's too bad there's not a product called "Useless Cunt". I'd love to see Foley interact with Stephanie McMahon in a similar sketch. Especially after this past week. You'd think being married to a dude with all kinds of practice drinking bottled water that she'd know how to actually pour it for someone. Although, my pet theory is she had poor Candice's BEST INTERESTS in mind. You see, she's married to the KING OF KINGS, so like the Holy Grail, drinking from the same glass, or bottle in this case of his HHHigh HHHoliness would completely HHHeal Canvas Michelle of her grievous injuries. Then the water bottle would be guarded for the next two Millennia by a secret pact of Knights. Huh. Maybe HHH should talk to HBK. I heard he knows just the Knights for this job! Ahem.
It's now time to find out who will face MVP for the U.S. Title in a terrible match!
And it's KANE with 67% of the vote. Apparently the other 33% of WWE fans are self-loathing and masochistic. Who knew.
Kane vs. (C) MVP for U.S. Title!
Thank God it's Kane. That fire still burns! It just doesn't leave any discernable scars or marks. What the fuck is up with that anyway?
Anyway, these two pick up where they left off, Armageddon, where a giant skin-headed white dude lit a terrified black man on fire. Yet, Kane was the GOOD GUY. Just be thankful that's where it ended. I for one don't want to see burning Crosses  Symbols on my grass.
The story here is MVP running away from Kane, which is pretty much all that happens. MVP then takes a purposeful count-out to retain the Title. Damn. And here I was hoping Kane would actually win the United States Title and rechristen it the PARTS UNKNOWN Championship! Yes. And from there he'd defend his new title against all his giant psychotic countrymen along with all his randomly face-painted neighbors.It'd be great. Tell me I'm wrong.
Winner by count out: KANE. The U.S. is safe. For now. I understand though that George Bush is thinking of Preemptively striking Parts Unknown and setting up a Democratic government. You'll never see a cruel Barbarian lead that nation again. And by that, I mean, the actual Barbarian. He was elected President there last year.
-New Save_Us video airs.
Help SAVE US, Y2J! You're Our Only Hope!
-Vignette for HBK and Randy Orton. I need to see this stuff again like I need a kick in the head. Clever segues FTW.
HBK vs.  (C) Randy Orton: WWE Title match!
A lot of people have questioned the health of the Heartbreak Kid here. And speaking of that, can't he just be Heartbreak Man, now? How long must we be fooling ourselves? That said, although both of his knees appear to be shot, I beg to differ. He still has the ability to drop to them and give thanks to the Lord during his intro. The moment you see Shawn enter the arena, shoot JC a big thumbs up and yell out "You'll have to take a rain-check, Lord!" that will be the moment I start worrying. Mostly because you don't want to remind God of rain. He kind of overdid it once. I'm building a boat just in case. Now I'll just have to think of a way to convince George Steele and Batista to hop on board for the preservation of their species.
Anyway, this was a very good match. But what would you expect from HBK? He's been taking a page from Jesus (OUT OF THE BIBLE!) and performing MIRACLES for years. But instead of just turning water into wine (The real reason Scott Hall's one of his best friends) he just carries everyone to great matches.
That said, this one starts off slowly, obviously to mask some of HBK's limitations right now, as Orton eventually grinds him with a...wait for it...chinlock. He then applies a bodyscissors to make sure that HBK goes nowhere. With that in mind, though, I'm disappointed Randy's World Title doesn't spin. Here I was hoping that they'd have a spinner adhered whose center would see Orton applying his vaunted chinlock, and by proxy of it repeatedly spinning, we'd soon be hypnotized into thinking it wasn't the most boring and tedious hold ever. Oh well. What can you do.
Eventually, HBK rallies,and the two fight over a superplex. But there will be no plexing on this night, super or not, because HBK pushes Orton off. HBK then goes for the flying elbow, but Randy moves, and HBK crashes and burns. If only WWE had followed through on my plea to remake HBK's limbs ala JAX's arms from Mortal Kombat. We wouldn't be having this conversation right now. Although, Randy Orton's head would explode scanners style every time HBK hit some Chin Music. But the more I think about it, the more I can't seem to find a problem. Come on, WWE. REBUILD HIM. YOU HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY.  Bionic limbs > than 10 random chicks running along an inflatable obstacle course.
Randy Orton began stalking HBK from there. He'd send him roses without a card and then call him five times a night and just breath heavy into the receiver. Or maybe he just looked like he wanted to administer an RKO. I like my version better. HBK however counters into a quick backslide for two. HBK then goes on full offense. Flying forearm. Scoopslam, big elbow. He begins to tune up the band: "You there, with the French horn, stay on cue!" He misses the Superkick however when Orton delivers a Greco-Roman kick to the bag to cause the vaunted pay-per-view Disqualification. You'll have to not pay to see how this feud ends! Wait.
Winner by DQ: HBK. He gets a win and found his smile. Turns out it was behind the couch all along. Who'd have thunk it?
After the match, Orton looks for the Soccer kick, that let's face it, just might alienate him from the other Soccer parents at children's games in a few years, just saying, but Michaels avoids it and hits the superkick. Awesome. I myself have been working on my Okaykick. One day, like Michaels, I hope to bring it up to that next level. Wish me luck.
-Wrestlemania 24 advertisement. Memories will be Indelibly etched in the annals of time! Unless your last name is Benoit, apparently. Turns out, "indelibly etched" really means  "Quick, someone get me a cloth and bottle of WD-40, right away! This ink isn't dry yet!". Who knew?
Vignette for Umaga vs. Triple H. Only one over Samoan was pinned for no reason in the making of this promo.
The results are in: Which match will HHH defeat Umaga in tonight? Let's go to the results!:
Street Fight - 57%
Cage match - 26%
First Blood match - 17%
Triple H vs. Umaga: STREET FIGHT.
Damn, the First Blood match lost. And here I was looking forward to each man being driven insane by redneck cops who persecute them just because they look like Hippies. "Nothing is over! Nothing! You just don't turn it off! It wasn't my war! You asked me, I didn't ask you! ...". It could have been so AWESOME. Oh well.
Anyway, this match was very good. Even though I think HHH's intro--with his new t-shirt that looks suspiciously like it hasn't been washed, and that Trips may have fell asleep on a newspaper-- took longer than the actual contest.
And the actual contest here is Street Fight. And surprisingly, Triple H has bucked tradition here and is NOT wearing jeans. You see, JEANS give you an advantage in Street fights. Don't ask me why. I don't make the rules. And he's not wearing STREET SHOES either. Which differ from wrestling boots and thus give you an advantage as well. You see, unlike wrestling boots, street shoes do up with laces, and are, wait, I don't understand it either. Let's forget about the whole thing.
HHH and Yewmanga start brawling right away, and you'll be happy to know Jan the Makeup lady backstage thankfully remembered to braid Umaga's hair this week. I picture them laughing, eating popcorn and talking about boys. It's sweet.
Trips and Umaga head backstage, but it's all a ruse, you see, because HHH spears Umaga through the Cyber Sunday set. A Conspiracy theorist might suggest this is a subtle way to stick it to the Internet. You see, by destroying figurative computers, he's DESTROYING ALL OF US, the naysayers, and holy fuck, even I can't say this with a straight face. Both men, then brawl back to the ring where HHH grabs a trashcan. He nails Umaga in the head, though he should know better. Hitting Samoans in the head is like being another charismatic blond guy to Triple H. NOTHING GOOD EVER COMES OF IT. Triple H then gets Samoan Dropped, or just Dropped, because, let's face it, Umaga's Samoan. Chinese people don't call their meals Chinese Food. Come on, WWE.
Eventually, Umaga crushes HHH in the corner with the flying fat ass. This must have been like a flashback to his HHHoneymoon. Which was 4 years ago last week, by the way. More Hardcore goodness follows, including a HHH DDT on a chair. Eventually, both men end up on the floor, where Umaga kicks H's in the head whilst he dug under the ring for something. He then cleared off the announce tables, because let's face it, you don't want anyone to be seriously hurt when you try and kill them by driving them through a table? Man. To me, that's the equivalent of fighting a War where you just bop your enemies on the head with the butt of your rifles, because SHOOTING them might kill somebody.
Anyway, speaking of killing somebody, Umaga puts Triple H on the ECW table, then does his two table run and smashes him through it! Awesome visual. But no worries, Tazz and Styles were spared injury, because they were ejected from the building two hours ago with all their shit after serving their only purpose. Umaga then dragged Triple H back into the ring, but misses a big flying headbutt. HHH is now up! The visual of a midcard rising to eventual prominence compels him to continue. "Not. On. My. Watch." says he. Probably? Maybe. HHH grabs sledgy and swings, but Umaga ducks. "I remember your shovel last month, Mr. umm, Hearst Helmsley. You'll have to get up pretty early in the morning with this Sledgehammer!" says Umaga. Only it just sounded like "Blah, Blah Fa Samoa!". I'm bilingual, you see. Umaga then goes for the Samoa Spike, but HHH ducks that, grabs Sledgy, hits Umaga in the gut, delivers the Pedigree, takes stock of which tag team he's yet to pin, and then covers Umaga for the win!
Winner: Son-in-Law. But unlike last month, there was no burial here. Not that it'd matter. Umaga's a Samoan Bulldozer! He'd just dig his way out!
-Ad for the WWE 500th Anniversary magazine. Man, it's hard to believe it's been 500 years already since the first issue. It seems like just yesterday Christopher Columbus sailed to America in hopes of getting there 15 years early so he could guarantee a copy.
Hey, it's time to find out the winner of the Costume contest! But let's look at the costumes first:
Mickie James- Indian Warrior. Well, I'd gladly bury the hatchet with her. Well, if by "hatchet" you mean "penis" and "with her" meaning, umm, in her? Sounds about right. God bless her. Whatever her Indian name is. Sitting Bull on my face? I wish.
Torrie- Redskins Football player.  Hey, when you're done with Washington I have a position for you at the Ontario Foreskins.
Jillian= Britney. I had no idea Britney gave birth to two completely inanimate dolls. Of course, K-Fed is the father, so it makes sense. And ya, oh ya. THIS COSTUME CLEARLY NEEDED MORE GIGANTIC EXPOSED BALD VAGINA. You know, for realism. I'm a method Costume guy. And a registered sex offender.
Maria= Pussycat. If I was DDP, I'd insist this was in fact the one I'd lost and call it a day.
Layla= Bad Cop.Let me show you my Telescopic nightstick. Or maybe that was microscopic. Never mind. *sniffle*.
Kelly Kelly = Pimp. Shouldn't this be John Laurenaitis's costume? Badumcha.
Michelle McCool= Eve. Minus, umm, you know, the Nudity.  This Eve looks more like she raided fucking Poison Ivy's closet. And hey, isn't there supposed to be an Apple with this deal? Maybe she ate it. Then threw it up in the bathroom hoping no one noticed. SHE'S LOVIN' LIFE~! (but not as much as anorexia!).
Melina= Las Vegas Showgirl. Umm, Hello. Needed more Elizabeth Berkley really angry shirt-tearing, though. And Paul Verhoeven to convince her that a nude catfight with Gina Gershon will make you a fucking A-list superstar. And of course then throwing a bunch of marbles in the ring. There would be no losers here. Except the crippled Divas. Oh well.
Brooke= Jungle girl. I heard this was pretty much the same outfit (bar the snake) she wore when she was allegedly homeless. But how the fuck does someone who looked like her become homeless? I'm guessing there's a few idiots out there that'd let her move in. Call me crazy. Although, it'd be funny to see her holding up a sign along the road that read "Will stand around a lot contributing absolutely nothing for Food".
Victoria was Yokozuna. Only you know, alive. Who knew how ironic his fear of caskets in 1993 would really end up being? Although, I'm guessing that his *real* ceremony didn't see him put to rest in a giant box with Undertaker's fucking painted head on it. Call it a hunch.
And your winner is: MICKIE JAMES! Indian Warrior! And somewhere out there, Tatanka just filled the cup.
Time to find out the guest Referee for the Main Event. But first, Tard reveals that 13189061 voted this year! And of those 13 million plus, many looked exactly the same, almost as if they had hundreds of identical twin brothers. What are the odds.
JBL then interrupts, and thanks "his fans" for letting him be in the Main Event tonight. Foley then came out, to a surprising non-reaction. BOO THAT BULLSHIT. What's not to like about a lovable pudgy guy who pulls a long flaccid white object from his pants all the time? This is my current court defense by the way. Wish me luck. And bail.
 The results were then aired:
Steve Austin - 79%
Mick Foley - 11%
JBL - 10%
Huh. I expected even more of a landslide for Steve. Maybe Debra voted Foley and JBL a few thousand times? Which is all the more impressive when you consider both her eyes are swelled shut~! The text should have read #$%^&%%$. Ahem.
Austin then came out, and well, you know what happened next. Stunner. Stunner. Yup. The real story here though is that apparently JBL was the replacement for fellow big mouthed pasty fatso, Roddy Piper. Piper was scheduled to be choice number 3, but apparently he revealed the by gawd booking when he said a month ago that he was scheduled to be one of 3 potential Referees in an interview. So, like his melanoma last year, Vince cut him out completely. Despite all the Cable companies airing that exact announcement early anyway. But it's not like Vince would know that. I think Vince's booking has proven the motherfucker hasn't watched TV in twenty years.
The Undertaker vs. (C) Batista for World Heavyweight Title; Steve Austin as Referee.
Hey, Steve Austin's got a new T-shirt! Imagine that. Although, after this night, I'm thinking this one might be a bit more Apropos:
That said, Austin being Referee for Batista at this event is ironic. For you see, two years ago, at this very event, Batista replaced Stone Cold in a match after Austin injured himself lifting a Sofa. Yes, a SOFA. And come to think of it, didn't Hulk Hogan injure himself once GETTING UP OFF A SOFA? Fuck Randy Orton. Clearly, this WWE Sofa is the true LEGEND KILLER in the business. Its record speaks for itself. Quick,somebody send Kevin Nash a Lazyboy (named in his honor). He's scheduled to wrestle for the TNA title in a few weeks. We're not too late!
Anyway, these two have never had a bad match with each other, and this is no exception. Perhaps it's because Undertaker puts Batista at ease. After all, The Deadman attended College on a, wait for it, BASKETBALL SCHOLARSHIP. Which in turn taught Taker to not hold grudges. IT JUST MAKES SENSE.
Anyway, just so you know, Lawler has replaced JBL on commentary for this match. So expect all expressions like "Ball Game!" and "He smells like smoke, 'cause he's walked through fire" to be replaced with euphemisms for titties.
Both men feel each other out early with CLUBBING BLOWS. Eventually, Taker applies the Triangle choke, but Batista, not a fan of Geometry obviously, gets to the ropes. And not a moment too soon. Taker had a Trapezoid choke on deck that would have likely ended the match, if only the Deadman could properly concave his leg into a jaunty position. It'd have been something, I'm telling you.
After some brief brawling, Taker gets the flying clothesline and goes for Old School~! However, there's no DVD player handy, so the hilarious hijinx of Frank the Tank and the boys will have to wait. DEATH VALLEY~! THE SUNSHINE STATE! GORGEOUS! Well, that, and Batista countered and muscled Taker into position for a superplex. But Taker countered out, and covered Big Dave for a close two.
Both men spill to the floor from there, and Batista Irish-Whips Taker into the steel stairs. Batista: "WHO's YOUR DADDY, UNDERTAKER!". Undertaker: "He died in a fire, dick. *Sniffle*." Speaking of Daddy's, I was recently shocked to learn that Batista is actually a Father. It's true. I just can't picture that. Or maybe I can. Imagine this parental exchange: "Ah, you kids think you have it so tough! When I was a boy, I had to walk a MILE through a PIT OF DANGER...just to get to school!".
Umm, ya.
Anyway, Taker soon rallies, hits Batista with the apron leg drop (selling an injured body part? What's that?) and hit Snake Eyes back in the ring. (Not this).  Watch out, Storm Shadow, you may be next. Taker then goes up for Old School again, but gets caught by Big Dave with a SPINEBUSTER! Shades of someone not Arn Anderson whom I can't think of right now! Batista covers for two, but Taker explodes out with ANOTHER Triangle choke. A Zombie with Jiu Jitsu skills. Awesome. Clearly, Jason Voorhees could have saved himself A LOT of trips to the morgue had he just detoured to Brazil and visited the Gracie family first. Obviously.
Batista forces the break when he cradles Taker for a two count. However, Taker eventually gets a chokeslam soon after for a close two count of his own. Taker then signaled for the tombstone. Just then I noticed Taker still has his "Sara" tattoo, despite him allegedly being estranged from her. That has to be awkward for the ladies. If I was him, (after I electrocuted people with my lightning hands, just because) I'd maybe change it to Sara Lee and just insist that you have a love for delicious little frozen cakes. No? No good? Come on. And just think. Taker wouldn't even need an oven. He could just get his brother Kane to pump his arms, then grab some plates, and serve. This shit writes itself. Unfortunately.
Anyway, Batista slips out of the tombstone attempt, and gets the MAIN EVENT SPEAR. That only gets a two count, though. Batista then muscles Taker into the corner, and begins to deliver mounted punches. Ya, nothing could possible go wrong here. Hey, Dave, why not catch one of RVD's chairs, or duck your head in front of a running Triple H? Make it a hat trick. As you may have figured by my extreme sarcasm, Taker counters into the Last Ride. But that only gets two as well. Taker then goes for another tombstone, but Batista once again escapes, hits a spear, and then delivers the Batista Bomb. Undertaker still kicks out. Batista then hits one more, and gets the pin! HE WALKS ALONE. HUH!..all while dribbling a basketball no doubt, just because there's no tense feelings.
Winner and STILL Champion: The Animal, Batista. Just what kind of animal is still unknown. But boy would having him be put down at the Veterinarian's be awkward. You try fitting a 300 pound dude into a shoe box.
End Show.
Final Thoughts:   If you're ever going to the strip club for a lap dance, wear track pants. You want the least amount of clothing possible between you and her. You'll thank me later.
That said, this show was saved by the two big World Title matches. The rest of the card was hit or miss, but an enjoyable night of wrestling  Sports Entertainment over all. Even if there was no Chris Jericho sightings. You'll have to watch TV for free to see that payoff! Sometimes I wonder how this company makes so much money. Then I remembered I was the one who just paid 45 dollars to see Randy Orton get disqualified. Never mind.
Thumbs up.
I'm Sean.

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Sean Carless is a man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an ever-increasing bald spot. Sean's various scribblings have been read at Live Audio Wrestling, 411 Mania, Honky Tonk Man.com, The Toronto Star.com, Wrestlecrap, and Lethal Wrestling. He has also cured AIDS.

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November 2006


by Sean Carless

With Christmas just around the corner, what better way to spend your few remaining dollars (left over after the seemingly infinite line-up of fucking pay-per-views ) then on the following "quality WWE merchandise!" After all, if they don't move this stuff, and fast, stockholders just might get time to figure out what "plummeting domestic buyrates" means!... and well, I don't think they need to tell you what that means! (Seriously. They're not telling you. Everything is fine! Ahem.).