You know, Londrick just might be the only two dudes in the world wearing masks that chicks seem to dig. Maybe if I could do a dropkick whilst somersaulting through the air, they wouldn’t be so eager to press charges. I’ll have to try it next time I’m hiding in the bushes and see what happens.

 

This is of course for the Tag Team titles, after That 50's team defeated Londrick two weeks in a row in non-title matches. And speaking of the 50's greaser/ Outsiders gimmick, I insist that they bring in Test as a third member, and rechristen him "Pony Boy" for obvious reasons. And hey, why not? Apparently since his suspension, Test has made his ends meet by running in circles around the arena while people placed bets on him. And when he wins, Vince feeds him a big sugar cube. All's right in the world. And yes, much like Mick Foley, I am obligated to make fun of Test whether he's relevant to the topic or not...

 

Anyway, London & Kendrick control this one early, frustrating Deuce and Domino and knocking them to the floor. D& D soon regain the momentum and work over Kendrick, as London looks for the tag.  Deuce gets his lip busted open eventually, but gets even when he violently slams London into the corner. London goes for something resembling a headscissors, but Domino blows the spot, but London still gets the tag to Kendrick.  Kendrick gets a crazy-assed backslide/Oklahoma roll combo on Deuce but he kicks out. The crowd really bit on that near-fall. Cool stuff.  Kendrick back up, but eats a big clothesline. Deuce puts Kendrick up on his shoulders from there, as Domino goes up and looks to deliver (Domino Delivers?) a flying clothesline LOD-style, but London pushes Domino off the ropes, and Kendrick counters and traps Deuce in a forward roll to pick up the win.

 

Winners and STILL Champions: London & Kendrick. Hey, did you know that "Deuce" is the real-life son of Jimmy Snuka? Holy shit. I can't imagine that childhood. I mean, I imagine there was never any fruit in the house for obvious reasons; and well, I wonder how awkward it was for Deuce to be the only kid in the neighborhood to never own a pair of shoes? I also imagine Dad passing you in the hall in the morning by leap frogging over you backwards then forwards. But it wouldn't be that bad, really. If you ever had a girl you wanted to break up with, all you'd have to do is leave her alone with Dad. Then of course call Vince, and fetch the shovel. But hey, them's the breaks when The Superfly's your Dad!

 

 

- Bobby Lashley package airs. No, not that package. Pervert.  We get a look at his family, upbringing and childhood. His sister has no idea how such a skinny kid got so huge. Huh. You might want to go through his locker then sometime, Sis. I'm sure you'll figure it out pretty fast.

 

- Krystal is once again back stage with Mr. Kennedy. He says that Lashley is just like all the people in LA: Wannabe's. He then says everyone out there is a loser because unlike him they've never realized their dreams. Haha. Stupid losers. Wait. What do you mean he was talking about me, too? ASSHOLE! *Ahem*.

 

Just then, Kennedy is interrupted by the most charismatic WWE superstar never, Bobby Lashley. Lashley has one word for Mr. Kennedy: "Halitosis". Ya! Burn! Wait. What? Oh, Dear Lord. That's brutally bad. Although, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't have marked out, if in honor of former ECW honcho Paul Heyman, he instead said he had "one word" for Mr. Kennedy: "Freakin' Halitosis".  But hey, that's just me.

 

 

 

Mr. Kennedy attacks Lashley during his intro, which ironically enough was sort of a mercy killing, because I'll be damned if the "(childlike)Face of ECW" didn't get zero reaction coming out. From there, this match pretty much disintegrated faster than a leper in a hot tub. It's not that it was fundamentally bad or anything, it's just that no one gave two shits about it, and sat on their hands for 2/3rds of the match, only popping once for a Lashley sit-out torture-rack. Kennedy pretty much worked Lashley's leg the entire match and no one responded at all. In fact, as far as emotion went, this match made the Virgil autograph session seem like the fucking L.A. riots in comparison. Eventually, as Lashley made his comeback, the crowd started chanting "BORING!" but I have stubbornly insisted in Mr. Burns "Boo-urns" fashion that they were in fact chanting "DORING! DORING!" in support and love of ECW. This joke may have worked better had they not cut that poor bastard. But  hey, I've come too far to turn back now.

 

Anyway, the finish comes when referee Mickey Henson gets bumped, and Kennedy retrieves a chair and uses it. But before he can strike Lashley again, Bobby retrieves it and hits Kennedy twice drawing the [EXTREME] disqualification. Stupid Bobby Lashley. Since when are chairs legal in a company built on having no rules or limits? EC-DUB! EC-DUB! EC-DUB!

 

Winner by way of [EXTREME] disqualification: Mr. Kennedy. Man, Paul Heyman would be turning over in his grave right now...had he killed himself like I would have after seeing what Vince has turned his concept into.

 

After the match, Lashley destroys Mr. Kennedy with the chair! His actions say "KILL!" while his face says "Can I please have another Cookie, Mommy? I'm still hungry." Dear God. There-in lies the problem with Lashley as a "hardcore wrestler". Every time I look at him, it looks like someone's transplanted the head of a seven year old Todd Bridges onto The Hulk's body. But hey, having a child's face should have no bearing on your push, right? I mean, guys like Goldberg and Brock Lesnar would have still have been intimidating if they had children's faces, right?.....

....RIGHT? Exactly.

 

-This Friday, Rey Mysterio returns! Take a drink every time he says "Eddie". You'll be dead by 10 pm.

 

-Trailer for Steve Austin's "The Condemned" airs. I guess this means we'll eventually learn that he was indeed once dropped on an island full of people he had to kill for Freedom. You know, before finding out this all happened coincidentally on the day the movie is being released. (I will go see it, though. Austin FTW.)

 

-Michael Cole is ringside with Vinnie Jones who badmouths Austin and says he he's the real star of the film, as JBL and Cole later relay the two had "issues" on the set. Oh, where have I heard that before? Maybe Vinnie should shave a "Z" in his hair and learn to cross one eye? It'll be more intimidating when we finally get "The Condemned: The Match. The Movie" in a few months....

 

 

 

Miz comes out and he's your host. I guess it's too much to hope that sharpshooting is one of these women's talents and Miz is the one holding the target? Maybe so. Anyway, Miz says forget about all those other talent shows out there (DONE!) because here's the only one that matters.

 

First up, is Kelly Kelly and the Extreme Expose; the trio of ladies changing the literal definition of "exposing" one terrible unsexy dance at a time! And apparently that's what they're going to do here, dance. Oh well. I think we all know what half these women’s REAL talents really are. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to reenact them, because that’d require a pantless Johnny Ace, his desk, and them on all fours. Yup.

 

Out next is Jillian Hall, whom I have a real soft spot for lately; and by "soft" I actually mean the complete opposite.  She's going to sing for us. And here's the story behind that: Jillian’s recent shtick is apparently *supposed* to be a mockery of Brooke Hogan and her singing career; thus it being a backhanded slap into the swollen orange leathery face of that Stark Ravin’ Hulkster, Dude. I don't know about you, but I for one would love to see this whole thing culminate in a match between Vince & Hulk’s useless daughter’s respectively. It’d be awesome. My money is on Brooke though. After all, her family’s legacy completely lies in picking up and launching fat people through the air. Big Steph might as well paint a bullseye on her chest (She might want to use a roller for those titties, though, or she'll be there for a while).

 

Anyway, Jillian has a song she's written for US, and of course proceeds to butcher it. Miz then cuts her off and says she's the female version of William Hung. I actually have no idea who that is, but if music isn't his forte, might I suggest porn? With a handle like that you could do no wrong.

 

From there, Jillian is angry and insults the rest of competitors including Maria, Candice and Ariel, who's talents we'll sadly never know; (But if there was ever a time to have your blood sucked, it'd be now. After all, I can't think of a better end  then having it drained from the area it'd be relocated to...)

 

The remaining competitors then all run out and the brawl is on. The referees then come out and break everyone up to the dismay of the crowd.  This then brings out Ashley who unrolls her Playboy cover from the ceiling and undoes her top, complete with strategically placed bunny-shaped stickers over boobs so plastic and shiny they gave the pectoral muscles of my 1984 He-Man a serious run for his money. Oh, and that's apparently enough to give her the win.

 

Winner: Ashley; who's taught me that I should show up at a Mr. Universe competition, and rip off my pants with my junk barely concealed by stickers, and I too will be declared the contest winner. IT'S THAT EASY. This shit has to work in real life.

 

 

- Vignette: Wrestlemania: "All Grown Up". Brought to you by the secret "goodtime room" in the Neverland Ranch Michael Jackson doesn’t want authorities to know about.  Dear lord, kind of gives the Wrestlemania cliché "Boyhood dream" a disturbing new meaning….

 

 

 

HBK comes out first, and man, he's still using the D-Generation X theme. Poor Shawn. At this point, Michaels is like that insane prom queen who never took her dress off, pining for what used to be.

 

Anyway, the intros take a good while, but we're underway.  Batista and Cena start things off, and JBL reminds everyone that this was the building that both men first won their respective World Titles in. It's stuff like this, and not comparing oversized limbs to fucking kitchen utensils that makes a good commentator. He can soap up anyone's ass from now on as far as I'm concerned.

 

Undertaker & Big Dave pretty much dominate the onset, working over and manhandling HBK, while Cena feverishly looks for the tag to unleash his patented umm, "Marine offense". After all, John Cena is a Marine who gets the job done...unless that "job" is doing one in the wrestling sense; because if it is, good luck there, chief. Clearly, Marines need to implement Cena’s offense if they’re ever to get out of the Gulf. The only trick now is getting the insurgents to lay on the ground long enough for you to pump up your sneaker and drop a fist on them.

 

Anyway, my babbling bullshit aside, eventually, Michael Cole completely loses his voice and bows out for upwards of ten minutes (Who says dreams don't come true!) and JBL calls the match solo, and hyperbole aside, does a pretty fucking impressive job. In the ring, Cena's tagged in, and fights with Taker over a superplex, which on the second try he gets. Undertaker however does the Zombie sit-up soon after. Tag out to HBK by Cena, but he doesn't fare well, and gets pressed slammed and dumped violently to the floor by Taker. Batista then follows up by  dropping Michaels head-first on the steps and rolling him back inside, where Taker gets a two count. More double-teaming by Taker & Batista and switching in and out, until eventually HBK counters a spinebuster attempt by DAVE into a big DDT. This is enough to make the tag to Cena  who comes in and wipes out Batista with that crazy rolling neckbreaker he does, followed up by a huge leg drop/fame asser from the top that obliterates the Animal. Protobomb and  Five-knuckle shuffle follow up by Cena, and then an FU attempt, but Taker parts Cena's jarhead with a big boot as he hoisted up Big Dave to break it up. HBK then attacks Taker, sending him to the floor, and follows that up with a dive, but Taker catches him and posts him. Back in the ring, Batista goes for the Batista-bomb, but HBK slides back in and clips Dave's knee. For a second there I thought DAVE might have been hurt, but he was actually just selling well. Not that it would matter. If by chance Batista did go down, all Undertaker would have to do is bury him in the Pet Cemetery and he'd be back good as new! Completely deranged and evil, mind you, but good as new!

 

Anyway, Cena and HBK now isolate DAVE and double-team him over the next 5 minutes or so, and eventually, after a dazed Batista goes to the wrong corner for a tag and eats an HBK fist for his troubles, he stumbles into a Cena drop-toe-hold and STFU. But before he can tap, Taker breaks it up. From there, Cena slams Batista, and tags out to HBK who goes up top and hits the flying elbow. He then tunes up the band that presumably only plays Christian folk, and goes for some Sweet chin music, or perhaps Sweet Organ music for the Biblical implications. In fact, I insist HBK convert his entire offense into Christian-themed holds. Or maybe I just wanna call something called the Fisher-of-men Suplex. I don't know. All I do know is, the only hold he'd truly be susceptible to would obviously be the Crucifix. But no worries, he'd be back two days later like nothing happened.

 

Oh yeah, there's a match going on here. Well, HBK misses the superkick, but runs into Batista's blackhole (of workrate) slam. This buys each man enough time to tag out to their respective partners. Taker obliterates both Cena and HBK from there, and he and Batista look to finish each man when DAVE suddenly turns on Undertaker, and spinebuster's him right after Taker pantomimed his throat-slash. Batista then says "payback is a bitch" and leaves Undertaker to be finished by a combination HBK superkick then Cena FU finish.

 

Winners: John Cena & Shawn Michaels.

/5 

 

After the match, Taker sits up and gives Big Dave the stink-eye. He then heads back to the tanning parlor to finish his sweet glow. Which just goes to show you, just because you're dead doesn't mean you have to look like you are. Yup. That's the show.

 

 

 

As for the show, it started off quite well, then began to fall apart around the time Finlay had to carry the giant piece of wrestling luggage that is Boogeyman, and culminating with Lashley and Kennedy falling completely flat. Man, ECW is so terrible. It's booking is like a kick to the balls so painful, your future un-born children keel over. But thankfully, there was a glimmering  ray of hope on this night; a phoenix that rose from the ashes of extreme sucktitude, and it's glorious name was the main event. Every one played their part and it all came off great. Even the finish was somewhat unpredictable, a rarity in today's often ridiculously predictable wrestling landscape. So, with that said, I'll give this one a thumbs up.