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By Sean Carless
Hey there, party people, I am your master of Pay-per-viewy ceremonies, Sean Carless, welcoming you to No Way Out. What they're having trouble finding the "way out" of is anyone's guess, since this year there is no vile, evil, demonic, or dare I say carnivorous structure to try and unsuccessfully flee from. So, it looks like the only thing there's definitely no way out of is paying this fucking cable bill. But you just watch me try.
Tonight's show comes to us from Los Angeles, the city of Angels! Land of fake titties and drive-by's! And well, WWE's already supplying the fake titties, so all we need now is for some gang bangers to roll in and unload some hot lead. Now hopefully, WWE creative received those special Bulls-Eye sweaters I knit for them. *Fingers Crossed*.
Your hosts are of course, Michael Cole, who is probably somewhat saddened that there is no aforementioned steel cage tonight for he had just the perfect ravenous animal lined up to compare it to, and of course, the single most entertaining man in the Universe right now, JBL. And for once, I am being completely serious. For our Spanish Amigo's we have the two saddest motherfuckers on the planet, Hugo & Carlos; who in my estimation have about 2 hours and change before everything blows up around them. Obviously my suggestion of having a commentator's table built out of whatever the black box's are made up of on Airplanes fell on deaf ears. Oh well.
MN w/ M & MVP w/ 1930’s Male Bathing Suit vs. The Hardys & Chris Benoit
Holy fucking Acronyms on the heel side of things here. Of course, according to my sources, this is commonplace in MVP's family. First, there's his cousin POW, who for some reason keeps getting captured by the enemy overseas. Who’d have thunk it. While his uncle DUI just had his license revoked. Go figure. I’d mention Grandpa D.O.A, but the family is still in mourning over his passing. Oh well.
Anyway, this is of course your opener, as MNM & The Hardys are contractually obligated to open every ppv show forever against one another. It's true. Matt Hardy starts things off with Mercury, who has apparently replaced Gregory Helms as his in-ring hetero-sexual life-mate. A pretty decent match ensues, with The Hardys primarily being worked over at various times by MNM and MVP as Chris Benoit, the rabid wolverine (If he ever sees a farmer with a shotgun approaching, I'd run away. It can only end badly) waited for the hot tag. Eventually, he gets it, and explodes on MNM, delivering two amazing Germans at the same time! (Not this.). All six-men are now in, and the heels are cleared from the ring, bar Joey Mercury, who gets hit with the Poetry in Motion, The Twist of Fate, a Swanton, then Benoit's flying headbutt. Benoit then makes the cover, but MVP and Nitro make the save. Nitro then goes out and over with Jeff Hardy, who tries but fails at a sunset-flip powerbomb, allowing Nitro to take him out with a flying clothesline on the floor. Back in the ring, MVP tries to use the U.S. belt on Benoit, but he misses a swing, and Benoit takes him down with the crossface. Before he can tap though, MNM make the save. They then try to finish Benoit with the Snap Shot, but Matt prevents it, allowing Benoit to take Mercury down with the crossface and get the tap out. Joey Mercury then rows a gondola through the sewers back to his secret underground lair...
Winners: The Hardys & Chris Benoit.  Hopefully this match means that Vince has changed his mind about The Hardys and MNM continuing to team, and we get some sort of ladder match blowoff at Wrestlemania from Matt and Jeff and Mercury & Nitro, who are clearly PETA's favorite tag team. (And hey, if PETA ever throws paint on those coats, don't be surprised if Jeff sops some of it up to finally complete this fucking Masterpiece!)
-Backstage, Krystal is standing by with Vickie Guerrero. She starts off the interview by calling Vickie 'gorgeous'. Oh, man. I never realized how good a comic timing Krystal has! That's hilarious! Oh, she's serious. Dear God. Anyway, Vickie says the opportunity she talked about is almost here, but first she just has to do one more thing this Friday on Smackdown. Dear Lord. Forget buying Konnan a new fucking kidney, someone pay off this poor woman's mortgage already and set her free. I'm almost afraid of what they'll do next. Book the corpse of Eddie for Wrestlemania? Why not. It's not like they're not building the event around another deadman anyway. What's one more?
 But hey, since this entire scenario is incredibly depressing, you get....
...Randy Orton making a grand mid-match getaway with a JET PACK! And you know, once he learns how to work the controls while applying a chinlock at the same time, there'll be no stopping him! RKOutta here!
-Backstage, Finlay is with Little Bastard. Bastard is terrified of little people. And who isn't? Legends of trolls have to come from somewhere! Anyway, Finlay's answer to Bastard's fear of Boogeymancito is to throw him into a plastic dumpster. Something makes me think Finlay won't be a guest on TLC's "Little People, Big World" anytime soon. Go figure. Anyway, much to the horror of Bastard, Little Boogey is in the recycling bin with him and he of course freaks out. Huh. Who knew you could recycle midgets? And here I thought they gave you trouble when you didn't bind your newspapers together.
CRUISERWEIGHT OPEN! Featuring Scotty 2 Hotty, Daivari, (C) Gregory Helms, Funkai, Shannon Moore, Jimmy Wang Yang, Jamie Noble and Chavo Guerrero.
Man, this match is like a dance that only ugly people that no one loves are invited to. Poor guys. I guess I should just be happy these poor bastards get to even be on Pay-per-view.  Anyway, it's fought under gauntlet rules, and each man will enter randomly. Except for the guy who wins. He always comes in last...
It starts off with the man who's gonna party like it's 1999, because let's face it,  his gimmick's never left  there, Scotty 2 Hotty, against Daivari; Smackdown, RAW and ECW's tiny little Iranian hot potato. Anyway, Scotty actually makes short work of Daivari, making him look like a jobber (Pun-jobber?) and finishing him relatively quickly with the worm. Next out is Gregory Helms, complete with new music and tiny little camouflage hotpants. I imagine this would be the uniform of an all gay military if such a corps existed. Gregory, put over huge by JBL, quickly beats Scotty, finishing him with a hold similar to Carlito's back-cracker, but only head first into the knees. Out next is Funaki! And he gets a pop! Ros Angeres Roves Funaki! Ok, for about 15 seconds anyway, before he's quickly pinned after Helms rolled through on a Funaki bodypress (Bodypless!) and hooked the tights.
Out next is Shannon Moore, (former tag partner of Helms in 3 Count) finally broken free from the ECW phantom zone to compete for the vaunted Cruiserweight title!... and to of course quickly lose by way of another face-cracker by Helms after a brief but impressive flurry of offense. So much for Shannon. And speaking of that name, when you look like a chick anyway, is rocking the name Shannon really helping your cause? Just saying.
Out next is your favorite  yellow  red neck and mine, Jimmy Wang Yang. Yang takes control quickly with an octopus hold (Which ironically enough got me kicked out of Sea World a few times..) but then misses a moonsault. Helms then picks up Yang looking to finish, but Yang cradles him with a rana to end Helms 13 month title reign! And for at least 3 of those months the company remembered they had a fucking Cruiserweight title! What a shame.
After the fall, Helms shows some sportsmanship by destroying Yang with the Eye of the Hurricane. Out next is Jamie Noble, lone Pitbull after Kid Kash was umm, destroyed? by the company. The two "red necks" put on a flurry of great fast paced moves, and just then I remember these two were once tag team partners as well in WCW as the Jung Dragons. Then I realized the irony that Yang now portrays a redneck while really being oriental, while Noble once portrayed a fake oriental while really being a redneck. I then realized how small a world we really live in, and vow to be a better person. Then I kept drinking and forgot all about it.
With that said, Yang ends up putting away Noble after a huge moonsault. And they play his music and start to announce him as champion, when Chavo's music hits. And everyone is surprised as if he wasn't expected! You know, despite Chavo being announced as being one of the participants everywhere the last few days. Holy shitballs. That'd be like me calling you up and telling you I'm gonna steal your wallet today, then you being surprised when it happens. And yes, that's my way of telling you that I'm going to be robbing you. Seriously. 
Anyway, Chavo is out, and by god he looks like he's followed Kevin Thorn's "clubbing" example and frequented a very specific "club" of his own: THE HAIR CLUB. I'll be damned if this swank motherfucker isn't rocking at least 1/3rd more head now. Now, don't be surprised if Hulk Hogan suddenly wants to be his tag team partner! Chavo is of course completely fresh, and takes it to Yang, as Cole gets disgusted that Chavo has the nerve to use Eddie Guerrero's own Triple verticals. JBL rebuts that the Guerrero's invented that move, and may others, including the camel clutch!... despite, you know, Camel's kind of being a rarity in Mexico, but whatever, I'm rambling! Yang gets a brief comeback soon after, but misses a sky twister press (Yang Time) allowing Chavo to hit the frogsplash as Cole further bad mouths Chavo for utilizing Eddie memory to put himself over. Yup. But hey, by all means stay tuned to Rey Mysterio, on Smackdown this Friday! It's not exploiting when someone popular is doing it! It's true. Oh ya, Chavo wins.
Winner & new champion: Chavo Guerrero. The man whose WWE career is unfortunately akin to one giant fucking Hamster wheel. He tries really hard and runs in a lot of circles, but at the end of the day, he pretty much always ends up right where he started.
- Krystal is backstage, interviewing John Cena. She then botches her lines and tries to act her way out. Jesus. Aww, Maybe I should cut her some slack here. After all, she's clearly talented on levels I can't even begin to contemplate. I mean I'm sure it took incredible timing and skill to point to a fully furnished living room set after a spirited game of fucking Plinko on the Price is Right. I've never known pressure like that. Anyway, Cena says he's not concerned about his opponents, nor HBK tonight, because he knows he's not Triple H.  And if he forgets, everyone in creative is sure to tell him. He then says, he and HBK basically fell into the tag titles, and he has no idea if anyone will betray anyone tonight.  OK. I still have no idea what the point of that promo was. "I have no idea what's going to happen here tonight. But since you asked, I'll level with you, I have no idea what will happen here tonight." You tell 'em, John.
Finlay & Little Bastard vs. Boogeyman & Little Boogey (snot bubble?)
Dear God in heaven. What do we have here? Hulking half-naked black men, oblong wooden objects, and midgets. Just like that part of the porn aisle you wouldn't be caught dead in. Originally, I wanted to create a mathematical theory that would calculate just which force is more dominant, Finlay's push, or Boogeyman's suck. I ultimately gave up on it, because every result turned up me committing suicide.
Anyway, the less that is said about this match the better. I'm not going to say it was bad, but let's just say there's a whole bowling alley full of barefooted people right now, because all the shoes belonged to this fucking match. Poor Finlay. All of a sudden, bombs going off all around you seems like a pretty good alternative. (Although, Boogeyman has a habit of blowing up every five seconds too, so it's not that different).
To cut to the chase; the story here was Finlay pretty much working the whole thing as a handicap match because Little Bastard hid under the ring. Finlay actually sold for both Boogey's and did what he could, but even Jesus Christ couldn't make this miracle happen. One funny moment came when Finlay actually started putting tiny holds on Little Boogeyman. The finish ended up seeing Little Bastard get chased under the ring, and be scared to death by regular sized Boogeyman who was now hiding under the ring as well, while Boogeycito was left alone in the ring with Finlay, who hit him with the Shillelagh and got the pin.
Winners: Finlay and Little Bastard and no one else on Earth. Where they go from here is anyone's guess. But I hope they call a truce.  Hell, they can even going drinking together. The Irishmen can drink all the Tequila, and The Boogeys can have the worm. It'd be beautiful.
-Krystal is backstage with HBK. HBK says he can't trust John Cena. He can only trust Triple H... the only love he's ever known. When he looks into his deep blue eyes it's like all the oceans of the world flooding his bewildered heart. OK, he didn't say it. But then again he didn't have to. ;)
- Video package for  King Booker vs. Kane. Part of me secretly wonders if this whole rivalry was orchestrated by Dave Thomas from beyond the grave, to get even with Booker for robbing one of his restaurants so many years ago. And why not? Who better to represent the best interests of a fast food franchise than a man who can ignite all four french fryers at once by just raising his arms? That's right.
King Booker w/ Sharmell vs. Kane w/o burn scars, despite, you know, once being burned alive and all. Go figure.
You know, only in wrestling could a huge, skin-headed white guy light a black man on fire, and still be considered the good guy. Well, unless the show was taking place in Alabama. Anyway, the story here is Kane going for his choke slam multiple times, but Booker finding a way out. The tide ultimately turns in Booker's favor after he sends Kane into the stairs on the floor, and once back inside, hits a missile dropkick. JBL puts over the fact that it's impressive because Booker's a huge man. Upon hearing Bradshaw's revelation that Booker's in fact large in stature, Vince says, "Jesus, we really should do something with this guy!" OK, maybe not. Kane soon regains the edge after an arm drag(~!) and heads upstairs. Kane goes for his 'let's pretend I don't really land on my feet before hitting it clothesline, thus negating the entire purpose of going to the top rope' on Booker, but Booker catches him with a sidekick. More back and forth from there, and Booker misses a scissors kick and Kane turns him inside out with a clothesline. Both men down now, and Kane does the zombie sit-up. Kane is all offense from there, going through his full rolodex of undead holds including the side slam, avalanche in the corner, aforementioned top rope clothesline of good intentions, and then he goozles Book, looking for the choke slam; however, Sharmell is up on the apron, but jumps off when confronted by Kane; this however gives Booker a chance to blindside Kane, and go for the scissors kick, but as Book bounds into the ropes, Kane suddenly thinks "Holy shit, why am I bent over for so long here" and side steps, as Booker misses, allowing Kane to quickly chokeslam him for the win.
Winner: Kane, The Big Red Machine... you know, despite only having about 5 percent red on his costume. And with that in mind, I think I'll paint one of my hands brown tomorrow, so by WWE's logic I can call myself a black man. It's a plan.
-Krystal, journalistic virtuoso is backstage with Batista. He gives us the *huge scoop* that tonight's main event is Wrestlemania main-event vs. Wrestlemania main-event. You don't say! Man, I'm starting to think WWE really had nothing for these guy's to say but thought they should say something. From this point forward, I think in all awkward moments, Big Dave should audibly recite the lyrics of his theme song. Or at least tell us where this alleged pit of danger he apparently walks through alone is. I've always wanted to know.  But hey, since he really said nothing here, you get....
The Sandman about to explode after inhaling the harsh Mars atmosphere Total-Recall-style! (What else would I do with this picture?)
(C) Brian Kendrick & Paul London vs. Deuce & Domino w/ Cherry w/ implants, which last time I checked weren't invented in the 1950's (Someone's got a Delorean!): WWE Tag Team Titles.
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 w/ elevated stock vs. (C) Bobby Lashley w/ elevated…everything. :ECW World Title.
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….
MAIN EVENT: HBK & John Cena vs. “Dead Animals” Undertaker & Batista;
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.
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.
Final Thoughts:  In my estimation, I've found that often the best way to defeat Anorexia is to eat food.
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.
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.).