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Hey, there wrestling fans, and wrestling fan fans, I'm Sean Carless, and welcome to Judgment Day! The day God punishes you for your sins. Your punishment: This Pay-per-view. Funny, all of a sudden the actual apocalypse is looking a lot better....
Tonight's Pay-per-view came to us from Los Angeles! Land of fake breasts, egomaniacs who have a stranglehold on their industry, and lower-tier stars doing whatever humiliating task is asked of them just to draw a pay check. Hey, it's no wonder WWE feels so at home here! It all makes sense now.
I'll spare you the details of the (no) Heat match between Mark Jindrak and Funaki that took place prior to the PPV broadcast. Jindrak won. But just in case you didn't hear, Mark Jindrak is indeed Teddy Long's new protégé (after managing so many black guys, I guess he decided to go to the opposite end of the spectrum and choose the plainest brand of vanilla possible). This all culminated after Teddy searched high and low for, and I quote, "a man with a perfect body and cover-boy looks". It's just then I get a visual of Patterson, triumphantly yelling out, "Teddy, you can have him when I'm finished!".  That's right. So, with that said, Mr. Vertical Leap, rechristened the "Reflection of Perfection" defeated Funaki, a man who hasn't had his ring theme played after a match since Bill Clinton fucked Monica Lewinsky with a cigar.The only remotely interesting thing to come out of this match was Theodore Long's pre-match promo, where he made light of L.A., stating that "everyone had plastic surgery and botox", before flubbing his lines by saying "and have cellulite put in your bodies". Hmm, a surgeon who'll perform Plastic Surgery and put cellulite in your body? Well, I guess that does explain Stephanie McMahon....
Onto the show~!
The Dudley  & umm, The Dudley vs. "HIGH Spots" (RVD & Rey Mysterio)
I wonder if Bubba & D-Von will ever get their proper identities back, or if they'll continue to be strangely referred to by Paul Heyman as only "The Dudley".  And speaking of "The Dudley", Bubba is STILL wearing those fucking shorts (short?). Jesus. Is it too much to ask "The Dudley" to put on some, umm, "Pant"? It'd be nice.
Anyway, this was a very solid opener here with both teams clicking very well. RVD of course proceeds to stiff the shit out of the Dudley with his usual variety of potatoes (potato?). And you know what these potatoes would go just GREAT with? Some KFC. Specifically that one franchise right here in California that served a customer two bags of marijuana in lieu of his actual order. Hell, I think under those circumstances, if this whole Rasslin' thing doesn't work out for Rob, he could always just get a job there. (get a job, not do one. For once). I mean, could there be a better person to endorse the Colonel's secret recipe than "Mr. Thursday Night" Rob Van Dam? Much like the tasty chicken, RVD himself has been fried for years, so it'd be a perfect fit. Rob would easily be the model employee. With his vast experience, just imagine the care and precision in which he'd roll the Clubhouse wrap, not to mention suggesting new and creative ways for customers to utilize the complimentary 2 Liter plastic Coke bottle that comes with your order. The possibilities are endless! Much like the amount of time I wasted making these jokes...
Anyway, Rob is double-teamed by "The Dudley", but eventually makes the hot tag to Rey-Rey who enters a house of fire, that Rob then uses to light his bong off of. It's around this point, Michael Cole proudly states that Rey owns hundreds of masks. Me too, but my lawyer advised I hide them until the trial is complete. Go figure. Bubba eventually stupidly tries to powerbomb Rey, but YOU CANNOT POWERBOMB REY MYSTERIO, and he of course turns it into the bulldog. You'd think they never watched a wrestling match before. Gee, Bubba, how about you go headbutt a Samoan, or try and tombstone Undertaker? Get back to me on how well that worked out for you, too.
One interesting moment happens when Rey, after being isolated by "the Dudley", makes the tag to Rob, when all of a sudden his music starts playing... as if umm, pre-cued. Man, good thing wrestling's not predetermined. That might have been real awkward. Another real cool spot sees RVD catapult Rey onto D-Von, who's sitting on the top, then Mysterio take him down with a frankensteiner. Cool stuff. The end sees Rey-Rey hit a double 619, on The Dudley, and RVD then connects with the Five-star frog splash on D-Von and his yellow camouflage pants, that no doubt will come in handy next time we we're at war with sun, to get the big win.
Winners: Rob Van Dam & Rey Mysterio. Mexicans and marijuana co-existing in ways not seen since Cheech and Chong. And oh ya, once again, thank god WWE had the foresight to have RVD's theme ready to go half way through this match. They must've been real confident he'd pull off the win...
-Backstage, strange noises are coming from Booker T's dressing room. Josh Matthews then opens the door and sees Book reenacting a voodoo ritual with his little bag of dirt. Excuse me, a bag of voodoo dirt. Yes sir. Where's James Brown when you need him? I have a new song for him to write. "Papa Shango's Got A Brand New Bag". It works on so many levels.
-Kurt Angle's music hits, and Luther Reigns wheels the world's biggest Laundry hamper to the ringside area, when all of a sudden Kurt Angle floats to the top. If only it was through a ring of fire, he could change his name to Angrel. Hell, the "you suck" chants might even start to make more sense.
Kurt, wheelchair bound, then bad mouths L.A., stating he hopes they're done in by a huge Earthquake. Although, as big of a fan as I am of John Tenta, I doubt he'd have the energy to sit on 20,000 people. Oh, he meant, umm, never mind. Kurt then calls out Torrie Wilson, and says he blames her for his injuries at the (skillet-like) hands of the Big Show. This motherfucker should be happy he's still alive. And speaking of which, how is it that Kurt can fall two stories onto cement and still be alive, and Hulk Hogan can throw Big Show off the roof of a building...and he can still comeback two hours later and win the title; but Owen Hart dies from a similar fall? Clearly, only main-eventers are impervious to death. Clearly. Kurt then informs Torrie she'll face Dawn Marie next, and if Torrie loses (ha!) she'll be fired. Ya, that's certainly easier than just canning her outright. Jesus, Kurt's worse than a fucking Bond villain. Which is ironic, because the motherfucker looks just like Blofeld anyway. All he needs is the cat.
Dawn Marie vs. Torrie Wilson;
Michael Cole states that the reason Dawn "hates Torrie" is because she was a "Playboy Cover-girl". Ya, she hated her SO MUCH, that she MURDERED HER FATHER BY FUCKING HIM TO DEATH. Why is it that no one ever mentions this anymore? But on a side note, I can only hope that one day a woman hates my daughter that much. I can't think of a better way to leave this earth...
Not a terrible match by non-wrestling Divas standards, but it definitely went a little too long. My motto is if it lasts longer than it takes me to masturbate to it, then it runs too long. I guess 30 second squashes are a little to much to ask for, though. That's right ;)
 Anyway, the crowd is sitting on their hands here (or like me, have them preoccupied) and the only time they really popped was when Dawn had a "wardrobe malfunction" as Torrie rolled her up, tearing her pants and exposing her ass. It's just then I get the visual of the tights Patterson ordered for Grenier accidentally ending up in Dawn's possession. Dawn then continues to wrestle with her ass showing, and Torrie gets another roll-up for the win.
Winner: Torrie-berg, who unlike us dudes, can tear the pants off a woman and roll her up, and still not spend the night in jail. Good for her.
-John "Bradshaw" Layfield is backstage being interviewed. Tonight he's winning the title for HIS America; an America where every one speaks English. Funny, somehow, I think if JBL was in charge of immigration, the amount of cavity searches would increase exponentially. And latex wouldn't be just be relegated to the hands. Just saying.
Mordecai vs. Scotty 2 Hotty
This is Mordecai's big debut. He comes to the ring carrying a big metal cross. Good luck nailing anyone to that. And we get the announcement of his first SINNER: Scotty 2 Hotty!...who I guess has committed the unpardonable sin of having a really, really dated gimmick. Dear God Scotty (No pun intended), you can just wrestle now, fucking Russo's been gone for YEARS.
Anyway, Mordecai dominates, and he surprisingly has a pretty good repertoire of wrestling moves for a dude hidden away his entire life by monks. But since they don't talk, how do they call the spots? IT'S A MYSTERY. And speaking of mysteries, as in "why does this guy have a fucking job?", Michael Cole states that HE'S NEVER SEEN SCOTTY MANHANDLED LIKE THIS. Turns out Cole has never seen a Scotty match in his fucking life. A life I'd gladly take. I wonder if complete ridiculousness is a sin. We can only hope. Anyway, Scotty tries to fight back, from Mordecai's slow motion offense. Normally I'd suggest that he just kick Mordy low, but knowing his luck, Mordecai probably wore a cup... the Cup of Christ! Haha. Chances are I just wanted to make that joke. Anyway, Mordecai eventually finishes Scotty with a Razor's Edge that Cole labels a "Crucifix" (Symbol?). Ya, that's not going to offend anybody. Oh, ya. That's good enough to get the win. I guess God's plan to punish us all is to subject us to Mordecai's wrestling. I already feel like I've turned over a new leaf! I have found Jesus! It turns out he was behind the sofa all along! Who'd have thunk it.
Winner: Mordecai, the Fanatical Christian zealot with a Jewish name. I heard his brother Shlomo is a televangelist. Good for him.
-Backstage, we see the Chavos. Chavo Classic has his pants around his ankles and is standing there in his underwear. Am I the only one curious as to why? If you're not wrestling, why take the pants you were already wearing off? Anyway, Jacqueline enters the scene and gives Chavo Junior a present containing a Bra and panties. But since it's her bra, it can hold WORLDS. Chavo then cuts a promo as we see Classic in the background sizing the underwear up. Funny stuff as usual from Classic.
(C) Rico & Charlie Haas w/ Miss Jackie vs. Ass Pluggs (Billy Gunn & Bob Holly) : WWE Tag Team Titles.
Man, it's like Vince McMahon somehow entered my subconscious, and purposely booked a tag team comprised of my two least favorite people ever, just to spite me. Bob Holly alone is intolerable enough, but when you add Billy to the equation, Dear lord. That's like learning you have AIDS, and as you leave the clinic, someone tosses the fucking Ebola monkey at you. You just can't win. Unfortunately though, this match can't end in death like that analogy, but it sure as hell makes you pine for it.
This is of course for the tag team titles. Normally, they'd give the title shot  to "the Dudley", but they're technically one person now, so that just left Ass Pluggs, ironically enough for Rico, and his new partner Charlie Haas to face. I'd ask just why Billy & Bob even deserve a World Tag team title shot, but apparently Gunn & Holly have been a full time team for weeks now; but sadly, the only people aware of this fact are the sad, lonely souls who watch Velocity on Saturday nights. Normally, that'd include me, but I like to pretend I'm an 18 year old first year college student online that night. Wait. Did I say that out loud?
With that said,  Holly and Gunn only want into the match when Charlie's in there, as they apparently want no part of Rico, who Cole once again reminds us was once a Las Vegas police officer. Dear God. At least in L.A. the worst that can happen is 6 officers pulling you from the car and beating you to death. I don't even want to venture a guess as to what your fate would be at Rico's precinct. Rico isolates Billy and gropes him, then takes him down and mounts him on the canvas. At this point we're made to believe that a guy (Billy Gunn) who calls himself "Mr. Ass"... and WAS ENGAGED TO A MAN, is wierded out by Rico's "gayness". I guess it's Ok for Chuck Palumbo to unload a Cactus Jack-style bag of Benwa balls (not to be confused with the awesome parties Chris Benoit throws) into his asshole, but Rico rubbing his hands on his chest turns his stomach. Go figure. Billy tries to tag out to Bob Holly, but he doesn't want none of Rico, who somewhat resembles a sexually curious Wolverine from X-Men here. I imagine his claws are just five dildos on the ends of his fingers. And believe you me, you don't even want to ask him to show you Cyclops. Trust me.
Haas tags back in, and Holly & Ass isolate him, with Bob delivering THE BEST DROPKICK IN THE BUSINESS. However, the sheer magnitude of a hold everyone else on fucking earth uses as a transition move doesn't keep Charlie down. Imagine that. There's a reason no one's coined "BEST BODYSLAM IN THE BUSINESS", Bob. Just saying. Holly then gets his elevated low kick on the ropes, and tags back out to Billy, who goes up top and gets caught with Charlie's boot. No one in wrestling history has ever explained to me just what the fuck guys are supposed to be doing when this spot goes down. "Ya, I think I'll just jump off the top rope with my arms at my side and hope for the best here, and..wait, is that a foot?...BLARRGHH". Haas ends up making a tag to Rico, but Billy catches him with the Fameasser, but not before Haas makes a blind tag. From there, Holly ends up trying to deliver the Alabama Slam to Charlie, but Rico comes in and hits the superkick, that I demand be renamed "The Fabulous kick," and Charlie floats out and over into a sunset flip for the win.
Winners and STILL Champions: Rico & Charlie Haas. The World's Greatest Gayest tag team, Or the Sexuals, Homo & Metro. Take your pick. All I know is it'd be impossible to be gay with Miss Jackie around. She could make any guy straight. In more ways than one...
-Backstage, Paul Bearer says tonight will be Booker T's "Judgment Day. Hey! That's the name of this pay-per-view! What are the odds?
Chavo Guerro w/ Classic vs. (C) Jacqueline w/ balloon tits; Cruiserweight Title. 
You know it's bad when all of a sudden fucking Oklahoma in WCW starts looking like a credible Cruiserweight champion. I mean, is Jacqueline even a cruiserweight? Her tits alone probably weigh more than half the roster. How'd she ever contend for this title?
Anyway, just so you know, Chavo has to have one hand tied behind his back, because let's face it, an able-bodied man wrestling a diminutive woman for a Championship might come across as a little absurd otherwise...
Chavo dominates early, hitting a one armed backbreaker. Eventually, Jacqueline makes her comeback to...complete apathy. They must be piping in silence~! It's like Goldberg, only the complete opposite! Michael Cole then covers for the lack of reaction saying that Jackie's "all pumped up" for this match, and well, this joke kind of explains itself. Chavo tries to get the advantage, but Jacqueline keeps fighting back because her chest consistently allows her to bounce back like one of those punching bag clowns. She then applies a SLEEPER to Chavo. Ya, let's slow this thing down! Great idea! Bleh. Anyway, Classic ends up distracting the referee allowing Chavo to use both hands to administer a beating. Chavo then implants (HIYO) Jacqueline into the canvas with an illegal (alien?) two-handed Gory-bomb to regain the Title. Thank the maker.
Winner and NEW Cruiserweight Champion: Chavo Guerrero. Hopefully, this is the last we see of this feud. Chavo can hopefully now move on to greener pastures, and Jackie can put that chest to some good use, like perhaps floating refugees safely into harbor.
(C) John Cena w/ perpetual crowd support vs. Rene Dupree w/ perpetual erection and no umm, "support": U.S. Title.
Holy shit, a U.S. Title match! When was the last time we saw one of those? Has the mandatory umm, 250 days expired already? Seriously though, what was the point of bringing this belt back if no one ever defends it? This fucking title sees about as much action as a fat kid in a Star Wars T-shirt.
Anyway, what we have here is "Dese Nuts" vs. umm, "Dat Penis"? Dear lord. And what's the point of Cena throwing little bags of nuts to the crowd? As if wrestling needs more gay symbolism in it.  They might as well have had Rene follow suit with a cucumber to hammer it all home.
Cena controls the tempo early, but the two eventually end up outside, where Dupree rams Cena into the steel post. Back in the ring, Dupree gets hung (HIYO) on the turnbuckle, Cena then charges, but Dupree moves, which allows Cena to fly (for a white guy) to the outside. Dupree works him over back inside, but Cena rallies and hits the protobomb, and goes for the Five Knuckle Shuffle, but misses. Dupree then goes for his own Five knuckle shuffle, which in his fucking case would clearly require more fingers, if we were talking its literal meaning.  Unfortunately, Dupree misses his five-knuckle (Cinq knuckle?), and Cena goes back on offense. More back and forth from there with a series of nearfalls. Cena then charges Dupree in the corner, but Dupree floats over, but is caught by Cena and F-U'd for the win.
Winner & STILL Champion: John Cena. Now all we have to do is give Koko B. Ware a call and see if he has any of those baggy-assed High Energy pants left, so he can donate them to Rene's cause. At least until someone can slip some saltpeter into this motherfucker's drink.
[Sean's note from 2007: Turns out Koko would have been no help. All of those pants went up in an unfortunate house fire. Sadly, Frankie the macaw was also a casualty. You know, maybe he'd have survived had Koko taught him to say "FIRE!" instead of just "pretty bird". Just saying.].
-Kenzo Suzuki is on his way to SmackDown. Originally, he was going to be called Hirohito, but I guess someone in the office figured out booking wrestlers as WW2 War criminals might be offensive. That and Heidenreich wasn't able to grow a little mustache.
The Undertaker w/ Paul Bearer vs. Booker T. w/Juju bag.
Before the match starts, Booker stares intently at his mysterious little bag. I then laugh at the irony of this probably marking the first time in L.A. history that a black man could carry a mysterious little bag on him, and not be accosted by the Police. Lucky Booker.
Anyway, the pace is set to METHODICAL here, so much so, that when I looked over at my brother he was suddenly 60, then a few minutes later his unborn children were morbidly laying some roses where he was sitting. True story. Anyway, I could recap this match, but I think you may have seen it. FOR 14 YEARS STRAIGHT. So, instead I'm going to mention a few of the dumb-assed things that Cole said during the match; including telling us that Undertaker possesses "the innate ability to block pain". Funny, WWE pay-per-views have also allowed me to acquire this very same ability. Imagine that. Anyway, Taker manhandles Booker, but he keeps looking back to his bag in the corner for guidance. Weird. I wonder if that bag smells like burning grass. That may explain Booker's strategy here. It's at this point that Michael Cole fires off another witticism, stating that there is "serious question as to whether Undertaker is really alive or dead". Funny, there was that same speculation for Rob Van Dam back when he was on RAW last year.
Anyway, Booker ends up finally getting the advantage when he tosses the contents of the bag into Undertaker's face. However, last time I checked, a "bag of dirt" never stopped Freddy or Jason's undead ass, and strangely, it doesn't work this time either. Go figure. Undertaker then ends up surviving a scissors kick, and comes back with a chokeslam and tombstone to pick up the win.
Winner: The only zombie with a tan I've ever seen, The Undertaker.
(C) Eddie Guerrero vs. John Bradshaw Layfield. WWE Championship match
Got to love WWE keeping the "Bradshaw" handle in the middle of JBL's name as a throwback to his previous gimmick. However, it doesn't exactly fit a Wall Street banker (and I bet those other bankers are happy there's no showers in that office). I mean, imagine if other famous money men in history had a similar redneck edge to their names. John Cletus Rockefeller. William Joe-Bob Hearst.  Andrew Jethro Carnegie. Donald Buddy-Lee Trump. You get the idea. Actually, I kid, JBL. Who am I to judge this man? He's a financial WIZARD. (seriously. Great book). JBL knows stocks. JBL knows bonds. JBL knows pork-bellies. And not just because he has one. Ok, I'm done. (Thank God).
The match started quite slow and plodding as they worked the 1999 "brawl everywhere but the ring" shtick for the first ten minutes or so. The match picked up pace soon after and really got interesting after a ref bump. Both men spill to the floor, and Eddie tosses JBL onto, hilariously enough, the ENGLISH announce table. In the Bizarro world, Michael Cole & Tazz are always unable to finish calling matches because their table always gets obliterated. It's at this point I try and figure out if there is indeed a scientifically possible way I can get a hold of that feed. Oh well.
Anyway, while on the floor, Eddie walks into a chair shot SO STIFF, it makes the perpetual erection of Rene Dupree look like, well, whatever the opposite of that is. Wait. THAT'S THE SOLUTION TO RENE'S DISTURBING ERECTION. Bust him open! Once enough blood drains out, he'll have to forfeit it from his penis as well, or risk permanent brain damage! IT'S GENIUS. Anyway, speaking of blood, Eddie is bleeding buckets of it here. Cole then astutely points out that Eddie is "bleeding like a sieve". A sieve? Jesus, remind me to never buy my faucets from the same place Cole does. Just saying.  Back inside, JBL punishes Eddie, and even hits the clothesline relocated from Hell to New York. Personally, I think he should just compromise and call it the "Clothesline from Hell's Kitchen" and be done with it. There's no referee, so a second one scoots in, but Eddie kicks out at two. JBL then obliterates him with a HUGE powerbomb, but that too only gets two. JBL then tries a sleeper, but Eddie, looking seriously fucked up and groggy, counters behind with a suplex. JBL tries a desperation fall-away slam, but somehow Eddie counters out into a DDT. He then heads upstairs looking for the frogsplash, but there's no water in the pool, err Gulf of Mexico as it were, and he crashes and burns. JBL then grabs the WWE Title, but misses a swing, and Eddie retrieves it, and clobbers JBL to draw a disappointing disqualification.
After the match, he busts open JBL, and crushes him with a frogsplash. Good match. Bad ending.
Winner by DQ: JBL. After the match, Stephanie runs out and mops up the blood and sends it to Red Cross because she heard they give you a piece of pizza every time you donate. She then leaves the arena with 15 large Pepperoni's and everyone's happy. OK, this didn't really happen. But it could have. I think. Maybe?
End show.
FINAL THOUGHTS:  A lot of people were honestly expecting a PPV the levels of "Heroes of Wrestling" tonight, but it was nowhere near that bad. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even the worst WWE PPV ever. But hey, normally that's like saying, you only got a "mild case of terminal cancer".  Ah, I kid. It wasn't that bad. In fact, the main event and the opening tag were quite good, so this one gets a big thumb of uppery from me. Now someone get Eddie's ass to the hospital. And if he needs a transfusion, well, someone track down Rene Dupree. He has more than enough to give....
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, 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.).