Home | Columns & Rants | Satire | Entertainment | Media | Archives | Forum

By Catherine Perez


Welcome once again to Deadface Walking~! In case you've forgotten during my short absence, I'm your esteemed hostess, Catherine Perez. It looks like I ended my little vacation at a damn good time, too, for I have quite a bit of surreal goings-on to talk about this week. Why don't we get start by going over the most baffling ending to Monday Night Raw ever?

Whose balls has Mike Adamle been lovingly cradling to get the position of General Manager? You'd think he personally delivered Stephanie's baby! Holy shit, I just got a great idea. More on that later. Before I actually get into this most insane of events, allow me to share yet another patented Adamle Blunder: when Shane McMahon's music hit at the end of Raw, guess who gave away who the new General Manager was going to be to the live crowd? That's right; Adamle, who left the announcing table and grabbed a microphone before being told to park his ass back in his seat. Oh, Mike, you never fail to fail! Of course, he completely made up for it when the cameras cut to him and his shit-eating grin standing in the ring with John Cena and Batista, who both had their faces twisted into a look of pure confusion, like most of everyone watching that night. And did you HEAR that crowd protest Shane's decision?! Me neither. Silence truly is deafening. As the show ended, I shook my fists towards the sky and asked the very question that started this paragraph, but after some time to think about it, how can we not enjoy this? There's little chance that anyone on Raw will respect Adamle's authority, and there's nothing I like more than a chaotic edition of Raw (and not in the Vince Russo Crash TV sense). Besides, kayfabe-wise, the same Mike fucking Adamle booked Michael Cole to be completely obliterated, JUST so he could take Cole's place and torture the at-home viewers with his commentary. That is absolutely genius. ECW viewers, enjoy Tard Grisham's 2% less lackluster insight on the goings-on of WWE's C show. Someone please get
Neil McGilloway a tissue.

Speaking of all that, members of WWE's Fan Nation site have started a petition to fire Adamle. You fucking dunces; that's exactly what WWE wants! The more we protest, the more Adamle we get! Why do you think he's been employed this long? Fucking duh, people.

Elijah Burke's website was supposedly hacked on Tuesday night by some guy who left racial slurs and a blog written by what was supposed to be Elijah himself about how he got hit by a car doing 80 in a 40 mph zone during a night run. Allow me to assume that the racist was implying that Elijah is too black to be seen at night. Har har har. I'll also assume that, whoever wrote this, his name starts with an 'M' and ends with 'ichael Hayes'. I kid... maybe. Clearly, someone thinks a hit-and-run is far more effective than "Creative has nothing for you." On top of that, I like to believe that anyone who is hit by a car doing 80 at night would be, umm, dead, and thus unable to blog. As of this writing on Wednesday afternoon, the website appears to be down. I really did want to make a haw-haw-larious photoshop of Elijah running from Christine the demon car, but it looks like no one's ever gotten a good screenshot of one of Christine's hit-and-runs. So... just imagine it in your heads like in ye olden tymes.

I can't even believe I'm typing this, but it looks like WWE has continued its tradition of hiring former Hollywoodites by signing Freddie Prinze, Jr. - yes, the guy from She's All That - to their creative team. Next week, watch and laugh as TNA struggles to hire Matthew Lillard. Prinze, whose biggest claim to fame is fucking Buffy the Scooby-Doo franchise, will now be coming up with some of what we see on TV. Wouldn't it be something if he actually came up with some compelling television? I can just see all the naysayers flocking to their message boards to type, "Ya see? I always knew Freddie would save WWE." Damn Freddie straight to Hell if he doesn't bring in the entire Scooby-Doo cast to solve the mystery of who made the Raw set collapse on Vince, complete with an unmasking to reveal Damien Demento as the culprit. THAT, my friends, would be quality television. Make it happen, Mr. Hollywood!

ZOMGWTFKFCBBQ, Ashley Massaro's back with a new blog and is telling us she'll be back on our TV screens in no time. Looks like that whole Bella Models whorehouse sickly young daughter family member thing got sorted out in such a short amount of time. Feel free to check out Ashley's MySpace blog, containing hilarious misspellings like "butt hings" and "I OVE YOU ALL". What? I'm not posting any link. For all I know, her MySpace name could be XOXODIRTYDIRTYDINGYFILTHYRINGAROUNDTHECOLLARXOXO.

Tomko has left TNA, and will now be working full-time in Japan. Awww, but his storyline was going so well! Wait. What storyline was he part of again? Hey, it's not a knock against him; I think we can all agree that TNA has fucking terrible storylines for everyone. Look at Abyss! All that hype just for the same stale shit in a new white jumpsuit and mask. Good luck to Tomko in Japan. I hear the crowds love him there anyway. Oh, Dustin Rhodes appears to be gone too, but... who really cares? Black Reign was complete trash in a trashbag suit. And if that's not enough of TNA departures for you, Kevin Nash left Tuesday night's iMPACT~! tapings (which will air on August 7th) early when he got frustrated over the planned finish in his match. He'll most likely be back since it's not like he quit or anything. He didn't object to being on the ass end of the Fingerpoke of Doom in WCW, so it just might be possible that TNA came up with something far worse. Nice job, guys.

NWA Legends FanFest convention promoter Greg Price posted an e-mail sent by 'Superstar' Billy Graham, who was originally scheduled to appear, that is, for lack of a better explanation, far less than kind. Hope you enjoyed all those commas. The backstory here is that Graham had started to demand more money along with special perks after his deal with Price had already been finalized. Here's the e-mail as posted on the FanFest message board:

In a message dated 7/28/2008 3:02:10 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time, Superstarbg writes:

Subject: $ 475

This number should be, 666 and tattooed on your forehead, you mark whore for wrestling. I will have this email posted on every message board I can find and encourage you to do the same. You have hurt the ones that I love best and covered up the truth with lies, one day you will be in the ditch, flies buzzin around your eyes. I hope that you die and your death will come soon, as I would love to follow your casket on a pale afternoon, I will watch as you are lowered down to your death bed and stand over your grave to make sure that you are dead. I have been praying to the devil that HE will send demons to pluck out your eyes, cut your tongue in half and sever your ears, spit venom in your face and gut you with a butcher knife and watch as your intestines spill out. You f****** worthless wrestling mark whore. More coming.

Do wrestling veterans get any more hilarious? Where the hell is Superstar's reality show, complete with an Iron Maiden-sung theme song? VH1, your next cash cow awaits.

DID YOU KNOW~?! Jeff Hardy designed~! his own t-shirt, and because he is rainbow-haired and thus clearly one of the greatest artists and free thinkers of the last century because of it, we should all take notice of Jeff's artistic prowess and proceed to not only buy the shirt, but frame it, kneel down before it, and worship it until our menisci give out. Then you can check out my own self-portrait t-shirt:

Your least interesting news bit of the day goes to some lady named Twyla Riley~! Twyla, who attended Smackdown on May 19th, 2007, is suing WWE and the University of Missouri for falling from the bleachers when some railing collapsed at the arena. She says she sustained injuries to her head, back, neck, knee, ankle and elbow. You'd think she fell right into the wrestling ring and proceeded to battle in a 60-minute Iron Man match. Wasn't that day a Sunday? Must've been a house show. WWE and the University, of course, are both of the opinion that her fall wasn't their faults. I thought Kane already made it clear that May 19th is not the best day to associate yourself with wrestling. Readers, don't go out on May 19th, especially to wrestling shows. And now you know. Shooting stars and all that goodness.

No If They Mated this week~! I can't even think of any more wrestling couples right now. Got any suggestions? E-mail me!!111six


Welcome back once again to Hey Man, Nice Shoot! Sitting in front of me like she hasn't a care in the world is Michelle "Homewrecker" McCool, current Smackdown... Divas... Champion... hahaha... Nice belt, really. Is a WWE Bratz Championship currently in the works?

McCool: Uh---

Perhaps a WWE My Size Barbie Championship?

McCool: Oh, come on, it doesn't look that girly!

Are you kidding me? There's a butterfly on it. Can you possibly picture The Undertaker wearing that piece of plastic?

McCool: Well, no but---

SPEAKING OF THE UNDERTAKER! You're quite the necrophiliac, aren't you? Since we last spoke, tons of pictures of you and your man have been taken by nosy wrestling fans. When exactly are you going to confirm the fact that you snatched him from right under Sara's nose and are now playing the Kane to Undertaker's Katie Vick?

McCool: Why do I have to be Kane?!

Ask my special guest security guard... KANE~!

Kane: So, if I do this job for you - which you promised doesn't include an actual job to any wrestler - you'll tell me if he's alive or dead?

That's right! So, you just stand there and do nothing until I need you to. And don't kick my cameramen.

[Hey Man, Nice Shoot's co-executive producer, Katy, suddenly runs into the camera's view and proceeds to excessively poke at Michelle.]

McCool: I sure am~!
McCool: I---



Er... yeah. Michelle, this is the show's co-executive producer, Katy. She's supposed to stay away from the cameras and let the show continue uninterrupted, but it's her birthday so, well, what can I do?

McCool: Well, happy birthday!
Katy: Did you freakin' hear that? MICHELLE McCOOL said happy birthday! TO ME!
Kane: Just say the word, Catherine, and I'll get rid of her.

The word... 'cause she thinks he's dead.


[Kane tackles a screaming Katy and tosses her out a window.]

Kane: ...OOOOOOO... 'kay.

Thank you, Kane. Now, Michelle, back to you being a homewrecking homewrecker.

McCool: Um... is Katy going to be okay?

Of course. It's only a 10-story fall, no big deal. We've done it millions of times. So, yeah, you. Has Undertaker ever accidentally electrocuted you during sex?

McCool: WHAT?

Does the bed lift up off the floor Poltergeist-style?

McCool: I don't think so...

Lights flicker on and off? Do Taker's eyes roll back into his head when he---

McCool: This really isn't what I agreed to talk about!

Alright, then. I could always have Kane toss you into oncoming traffic once I let him know what you think about "he".

Kane: Well, honestly, I really don't want to hear about what my brother does during sex. Seriously.

Hey, that's fine with me. But don't think for a second, Michelle... if that is your real name... that Sara's going to sit with her ass on her hands while you boink her undead man like the filthy Bratz Champion you are!

McCool: UGH. You're impossible to talk to!

OH YEAH, BITCH? I don't need your juicy tales of debauchery and overall homewreckery to get ratings! I could always kick your ass off my show and interview Kane!

McCool: You just do that, bitch!

Yeah, I will, BITCH.




Well, get off my fancy interview chair and piss the fuck off, BITCH. Rent-A-Center won't be happy when they see that you left homewrecker skank juice all over it!

McCool: Oh, you're unbelievable!

[Michelle gets off her seat and stomps off the set with her lame little butterfly belt.]

You're damn right I am! Bitch. Kane, please, have a seat.

Kane: I'd rather not.

I don't blame you. So, Kane, what's in the sack?

Kane: Hehehe... wouldn't you like to know?

Um... yes?

Kane: Wouldn't you like to know?

...yeah. I would. It's why I asked. What's in the bag?

Kane: Hehehehehe... wouldn't you like to know?

[Kane walks off the set, still laughing.]

You son of a bitch! HEY KANE, HE'S DEAD! And you know what else?! MAY 19TH. MAAAAAAAAAAAAAY 19TH~!


[Kane kicks the shit out of every crew member in sight.]

Well, while Kane beats the hell out of the entire crew, allow me to end this interview. As much as I tried to avoid this, join me next week for an interview with Raw's new General Manager, Mike Adamle! Dear God.

And that does it for this week's Deadface Walking! Feedback may be sent either to my e-mail address or
MySpace. Do yourselves a favor and check out all of this week's hilarious updates from the week of Raw Is Adamle. 'Til next week, I'm Catherine Perez, and like the very saint-like Shawn Michaels, I'm getting the hell out of here.

Catherine Perez is a proud owner of three e-mails from WWE's legal department, which she regularly prints out for when all the toilet paper runs out.  She was the first person to call the Ghostbusters after witnessing something strange in her neighborhood, and is thus immortalized in a song that was made popular four years before her birth.  Catherine enjoys collecting vintage WWF t-shirts, painting on her clothing, and the smell of crushed dreams in the mornings. She also shot J.R.

Bookmark and Share


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.).