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By Sean Carless

Hello all, I’m Sean, and welcome to the PPV that’s just TABOO… unlike HHH simulating sex with a corpse, which was just good television…. Taboo Tuesday!

Tonight’s broadcast comes to us from Milwaukee…land of….people. People who love people.

The show opens up with Chris Jericho coming to the ring to defend his Intercontinental Title against a completely mysterious opponent not obviously Shelton Benjamin.

....We then flash backstage with a quick look at a myriad of no-hopers, hoping that tonight is going to be the night the Internet FINALLY vindicates their pathetic existence. No dice though. Let us cry a tear for Rodney Mack. He was like THIS close.

Anyway, among those sad souls was a personal dark horse for me, one Chuck Palumbo, better known now as Custom Chucky P, Auto-mechanic EXTRAORDINAIRE, and a man who exchanged working on the rear-end of Billy Gunn for working on the rear-end of custom cars. I can't say I blame him. Anyway, despite all my best efforts, Chuck still lost. Poor Chuck. I mean, haven’t you ever wanted anything more for yourself? I know this poor hapless son of a bitch does. I look into Chuck's sorry doe eyes and I just, I see a man crying out! Fuck! When, Lord when? WHEN'S GONNA BE MY TIME!   …. Ok, I may have stolen this entire spiel from Jay & Silent Bob, sue me. (but please don’t, I have so very little.)

With that said, we learn that Shelton Benjamin (SURPRISE~!) by proxy of the vote, has the honor of meeting Y2J. The people have spoken and were definitely not at all influenced by Vince's not so subtle endorsement of Shelton on Raw. You know, the ONLY guy he promoted for this particular match. HOLY SHIT DO I FEEL LIKE A PROMOTER! I HAVE A SAY!.....

(C) Y2J Vs. Shelton Benjamin for Intercontinental Title;

Decent match here considering that neither man has really had much time to put anything together here, but still, it wasn’t as fast paced as I would have liked. But hey, beggars can't be choosers. EVEN IF THEIR VOICES ARE FINALLY BEING HEARD. GOD BLESS WWE FOR GIVING ME A VOICE. (Ok, I'll stop...)

Anyway, Benjamin seemed to be pretty over with the crowd, but they kept toggling between the two. Towards the end, we saw each man unload their heavy artillery (Jericho with your favorite exotic Jungle cat somersault and Shelton with his flying  clothesline) but still they were unable to put one another away. Jericho ends up going for the Walls from there, but Shelton fights out and eventually catches Jericho as he jumped off the second rope, muscling him into a quick Exploder for the win…and the Title! The crowd then explodes! Unlike Jericho who's still in one piece, despite eating a hold that implies he would not be. What a gyp. I paid for an explosion. They should be sweeping up Chris right now.

Winner and NEW Intercontinental Champion: Shelton Benjamin. THERE AIN'T NO STOPPIN' HIM NOW. Because if they did? Boy would that song be awkward.


-We learn that Shawn Michaels won the popular vote, mostly because we motley crew of shmoes that call ourselves the IWC are the minority, regardless of what we might think. Truth be told, WWE’s true bread and butter lie with a guy who at this very moment, is arguing with someone like us over our claims that "HHH holds people down", with their answer being "Of course he holds them down! That's how you win a match, retard!"  The future of the industry is in his John Cena foam-knux covered hands, and I for one am terrified.

Anyway, Edge is none too pleased over the announcement, as he seethes in anger, gritting his some 3000 teeth in unbridled Canadian rage. What's that all aboot.

Diva’s Battle Royal: Participant must wear a "School Girl Outfit" Participants: (C)Trish Stratus, Molly Holly, Jazz, Victoria, Nidia, Gail Kim, & Stacy Keibler.

I always laugh at the obvious double standard these types of matches create. I mean, the Divas are SUPPOSED to be "wrestlers" like the rest of the superstars, but yet, you never see any of, say, the cruiserweights, forced into school boy outfits. Wait.  Forget I even mentioned that. We don't want to give Rob Feinstein any booking ideas.....

Anyway, first and foremost, I must say, Trish Stratus was probably wearing the hottest outfit I’ve ever seen in my life. With that said, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there was indeed some serious masturbation material on hand here (no pun intended), but to my credit, I valiantly resisted the urge. Good thing too, because I’m sure my guests wouldn’t have appreciated it….

Standard T&A exhibition here, and not exactly a whole lotta wrestling. Of course, there was still the obligatory comments by Jerry Lawler, as he salivated over all the women involved, before finally stating, and I quote, he wished he was "still in Kindergarten". Damn, Jerry. You’re not even subtle anymore. Why not just take up a job at Kmart, King? At least that way you could say you have little girls pants half off, and not get arrested for it.....

Anyway, normally, I’d break down this Greco-Roman classic… but I, umm, don’t want to? That's right.  The end came down to Trish, Molly and Stacy.  After playing babyface in peril, Stacy got pitched out by Molly after attempting a corner float over, as she was caught and dumped out. This is usually how I end one night stands. It's probably also the reason why there isn't any 2nd night stands. I don't get it either.

From there, we're down to two. Or four if your chauvinistically counting the breasts in there as I am wont to do. Trish then quickly capitalizes on a Molly mistake and pushes Molly "through the ropes" for the win and not "over the top" because apparently the Divas want to show their equality with the men by.... not taking any bumps whatsoever. Equality FTW.

Winner: Trish Stratus and the stockholders at Kleenex.


Kane w/ Lita w/o fetus vs. Gene Snitsky w/ the entire "pro choice" movement.

This is a match where one of three potential weapons will be legal. Our choices as far as the weapons go are "lead pipe" , "steel chair" or a "chain".   The Internet then chooses chain because they apparently have ZERO comprehension of WWE storylines. But seriously, take it from WWE fans to completely ignore the weapon (lead pipe) that this whole rivalry has been built around and choose something (a chain) that was probably just thrown in there to round things out. YOUR VOICE HAS BEEN HEARD!!!!!! Now shut the fuck up, already. You're ruining everything.

Anyway, this OFFICIALLY is a CHAIN MATCH, which basically means, well, it means nothing actually; and you’ll see why in a minute.  The match itself wasn't exactly pretty. In fact, I'm sure there's a lot of pissed off bare foot bowlers right now just wondering where their shoes went. Hint: THIS MATCH.

With that said, the two use the chain on each other at various points of the match, but the real turning point is when Snitsky escapes a Kane choke-slam attempt, and the action spills to the floor, where Gene regains the momentum by kicking the stairs into Kane’s mid-section. OH NO, NOT HIS MIDSECTION. Buddy survived being set on fire at least 4 times by fucking count, so good luck kickin' him in the tummy. Ya, that'll be what finally stops him.

Snitsky then grabs a chair, wear’s Kane out with it, before placing it around his neck and crushing his throat with it ala Shawn Michaels. Kane then does the old blood gimmick by biting down on a condom in his mouth. I think this is how Patterson used to award pushes. Only he was still wearing the condom. Dear lord, live with that visual.

Snitsky then seemingly disappears (?) only to return about 30 seconds later and pin him for the decisive victory. Ya, that's right, Gene. This was a match.

After the bout, the EMT’s pretend to tend to Kane, and strap him to a gurney…you know, even though he has THROAT INJURIES….but Snitsky is having none of it, and tips the gurney over with Kane still on it! I SO have to try that next time I’m visiting someone at the Hospital. Wait, my bad. MEDICAL FACILITY. If WWE has no concept of the word "hospital", then damn it, neither do I.

Winner: GENE SNITSKY.  Her body. His choice.


Eric Bischoff vs. Eugene (stipulation to be named after the match)

Uncle Eric must be ready for action tonight, because he's broke out his patented maternity Ninja suit tonight, I see. What’s his martial arts discipline again? Kung-food? Seriously, it’s kind of hard to take someone seriously as a master of the deadly black arts when they look like they’re retaining about 30 pounds of water, I’m sorry.

This one is kept relatively short (Thank God) and after a cheap shot early by Uncle Eric, Eugene "tards up" and channels (HOLLYWOOD) Hogan, and finishes Eric with the big leg drop. Good stuff. If only more retards knew catch as catch wrestling holds, instead of just only breathing through their mouths and shitting themselves, I might actually start donating to charities. I mean, really. A body slam is SO much more inspiring to me than learning basic life skills. Get your (completely disproportioned) heads in the games, retards.

Anyway, after the match, we learn that "Loser must have his head shaved" won by a landslide. Jonathan Coachman then tries to intervene, stating that Eric should instead just be Eugene’s "servant" for... five minutes? Man. Take it from a black man to not fully understand the full benefits of forced slavery. Oh.

This of course then brings out Vince who STANDS UP FOR THE FANS AND WHAT THEY WANT....SO LONG AS IT'S WHAT HE WANTS, TOO *Ahem*. Anyway, Vince hilariously mocks Bischoff’s dye job and forces him to be shaved or be fired, while making Coach wear the dress for meddling in the situation. Only in wrestling could your boss make a male secretary wear a dress. And believe me, I know. And I have a subpoena from the labor board to prove it.

Still, isn't it hysterical that Vince still has it out for old Easy E after all these years? YOU WON THE WAR, VINCE. Jesus. At this point, the only thing left for Vince to do to completely break Eric would be to fuck Bisch's wife while he watched. But then again, after that whole "Gold Club" debacle, he’d probably like that….

Winner: EUGENE.  The sky's the limit for him. Next stop, THE WHITE HOUSE. The precedent has after all already been set. :)


(C)La Résistance vs. Edge & Chris Benoit for World Tag team Championship;

Edge made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested in the Tag Team Titles before this match, obviously foreshadowing the finish. Unfortunately, this wasn’t exactly one of these four’s best matches with one another, and really wasn't anything to write home about. Why you'd be writing home about a midcard tag match is anyone's guess, though.

Anyway, the end comes, when after Benoit works a large bulk of the match, Edge looks to get the hot tag, but the referee misses it, and Edge simply walks off, abandoning Benoit as a result, and keeps going, all the way out to his car... which is idling in the parking lot? Huh? Who the fuck leaves a car running for two hours in a Parking Lot? Anyway, back in the ring, La Rez double-team the lone wolverine, much to the disdain of the SPCA no doubt, whom every day save the noble 230 pound toothless wolverine from the clutches of poachers, hunters and renegade French Sympathizers, then safely release them back into their natural habitat of Edmonton Alberta  Atlanta Georgia. Anyway, as the Frenchmen double-team Benoit, he actually rallies, knocking Grenier from the ring, before actually managing to get the crossface on Conway for the win, and the Titles! Wow. Totally hot finish to an otherwise by the numbers match.

Winner and NEW Tag team Champions: The Mega Hosers: Chris Benoit and Edge, eh. Let's all drink us one of dem dere mooseheads eh to toast dese sweet hoseheads.


Carmella vs. Christie: Final Match in the Worst of One Series…..err, I mean "Lingerie Pillow fight"

It'll be interesting to see what happens here, considering neither is exactly versed in pro wrestling. But hey, neither are half the "professionals" in the women's division either, so whatever. Although, in Carmella's defense, I heard she has an extensive background in catch-as-catch-cum. Hey, what? You don't hang around Hef's mansion that much and not do some freaky shit. I mean, I've seen pictures of fucking Mini-me floating with some pretty bangin' broads in that grotto. Which is both awesome, and completely depressing for those of us who have fully functioning pituitary glands and still aren't gettin' any....

Anyhoo, we find out that "Lingerie pillow fight" is the desired stipulation, and the WWE forces the two to change in huge cubicles that Coach insists are "transparent". And of course, by "transparent" he apparently means not at all see through. With that WWE logic in mind, let me say thus far how GREAT a show this has been! And it's not completely WASTING my money! Ahem. Anyway, the two take forever changing, as Carmella even seems to shy away from even casting  a silhouette while she changes; and I can see why she’s shy. She after all only posed nude for the biggest men’s magazine on Earth. That's great.  Mini Me can jack off on your cans in the Playboy grotto and that's ok, but we can't see a fucking shadow of a titty?.... MY VOICE HAS BEEN SILENCED. THIS IS BULLSHIT. BLARRRRRGHHHH.

Anyway, when the two finally do get to the ring, we learn that this pillow fight can only end in pinfall... and not the full-on lesbian debauchery that I insist all female pillow fights end in. Porno can’t lie. For real. Doctors don't wear clothes under their smocks and Pizza boys ALWAYS get tipped in blowjobs. Don't shatter my world, WWE. I have so very little.  With that said, the match ends up lasting about as long as I would with these two, and that’s about one minute.  Christie wins after hitting a HARDWAY pillow shot (OH THE HUMANITY  HUGE MAMMARIES!) before rolling up Carmella to end the misery.  And yes, once again, a PILLOW FIGHT ended in a pinfall. Funny, I don't remember going for sunset flips and fucking Oklahoma rolls when I had pillow fights when I was a kid. Or yesterday. I'm 27.

Winner: Christie. Loser: You.  It's a Tuesday night, you just spent 40 dollars for this match, and you still have to get up for fucking work tomorrow.


HBK w/ one leg and one heart for the Lord vs. (C) HHH w/ No heart, and is lord of the locker room:  World Heavyweight Title match.

I find it hilarious that after giving the fans "the power" to finally influence matchmaking, they still choose what WWE has been force-feeding us for like two years. We just can't win. I mean, wasn't the UNFORGIVING CONFINES OF THE UMM, UNFORGIVING DEMONIC DEVILISH, SATANIC, HELLISH, HELL IN THE CELL supposed to end this rivalry? So much for Hell being for eternity. Wait. I take that back. This PPV thus far has proven that point.  And it's indeed a tough pill to swallow.

Anyhoo, speaking of swallowing pills, Michaels is apparently legitimately injured here, (a fact JR continuously hammers home), but still, HBK decides to gut it out and I applaud him and hope he finds his smile. (Check the sofa cushions. You'd be surprised what you'll find in there.).

Anyway, HHH obviously controls much of the match, but  Michaels courageously works in his comebacks on one knee. However, if you believe that scummiest wrestling urban legends thread over at Death Valley Driver, Michaels has apparently done some of his best work on one knee. I kid. Anyway, what made this match work was the psychology. It's true. HHH and HBK argued extensively for an hour over whether or not Freud's theories on the unconscious mind, the Oedipus complex, defense mechanisms, Freudian slips and dream symbolism still hold water today. It was fascinating and informative. Or, maybe they just made us believe a one legged hippy had a fucking chance to win the World Title. I like my version better.

From there, HHH spent the bulk of the match pulverizing Michaels' injured wheel, and Michaels reactions and selling alone made it seem exciting...despite the fact that he really didn't do much (obviously).

Anyway, Michaels valiantly fights on, and refuses the Referee’s pleas to halt the match. WHERE WAS THIS REFEREE DURING THE LINGERIE PILLOW FIGHT?  HBK then manages to harbor one last comeback, that amazingly included a top rope elbow "flop" (not enough air for it to be a drop). Michaels then finally struggles to his feet, and tunes up the band, but Batista, apparently not a music lover, runs-in and tries to interfere, but Michaels swats him off, before delivering a picture-perfect superkick that knocks HHH out. However, before Michaels can cover, the referee becomes distracted by Batista on the floor, allowing Edge to slide in and finish off HBK with a spear, which normally I'd say was sort of ironic... if I wasn't so terrified of going to Hell. Anyway, HHH simply crawls over and makes the pin to retain his title. Good match for what it was.

Winner: HHH. A one-legged HBK is then helped backstage, where he then meets up with one legged Zach Gowen and the two leave together to attempt to compete in those ubiquitous "Ass-kicking contests" JR is always talking about. I for one wish them luck. And legs.


Ric Flair vs. Randy Orton: Steel Cage match.

This is your main event, apparently. We learn that the stipulation chosen is a Steel cage match, as if the huge cage hanging from the ceiling didn't tip you off....

With that said, the two managed to put on a very good match, and probably my favorite of the night. Flair really had his working boots on tonight, as did Orton, and the two managed to actually put on more of an old school NWA-style cage match, rather than the traditional WWF "Hey,let's try and run away" cage match we used to get, where someone like Hulk Hogan climbs giant blue bars the size of fucking pizza boxes because he's too fucking clumsy to handle a real fence. Both men even did color, and buckets to boot. The funniest spot in the match saw Flair get his trunks pulled down, with Earl Hebner then helping the forgetful Nature Boy jack them back up while he lay face down on the mat. Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. It’s not Tommy Young spooning Nikita Koloff’s penis back into his singlet, but its close.

Anyway, Flair tried everything to put Orton away, including a brass knuckles shot, but nothing worked. BY GAWD NOTHING WILL STOP THE TEXAS..err, WHATEVER KIND OF ANGRY POISONOUS SNAKE THEY HAVE IN ST. LOUIS! Finally, Flair decides to just book it from the cage, but Randy pulls him back in by the feet…but not before Flair grabs a steel chair. Back in, Flair tries a wild swing, but Orton ducks and finishes clean with an RKO for the win. Great match.

Winner: Randy Orton. The Toughest Brahma bull rattlesnake in the WWE. And damn it, you WILL love him. Even though they kinda took away everything that made you dig the dude in the first place.


After the match, Flair, covered in blood, extends his hand and the two shake, then hug. And it’s a manly hug because there’s the obligatory three pats on the back; so it’s all good from where I stand. What's not so good is trying to explain to the girlfriend who just entered the room, as to why "Doc Brown" is bleeding and wearing only his underwear. It's times like this I wish I had a time traveling Delorean. And maybe a clue that Back to the Future was fiction.

FINAL THOUGHTS: Man, do I feel like a promoter! You know, even though I never really got to choose anything, but whatever. You know, I'm starting to really  think they only called this PPV "Taboo" because they couldn't think of anything else that went with "Tuesday".  I mean, the only thing slightly risqué tonight was the sight of bare breasts, but unfortunately they didn't belong to any of the Divas, but rather Ric Flair, so it doesn't count....

Anyway, this PPV was all kinds of mediocre. I can't in good conscience really give it a full thumbs up. And not just because I smoked so much pot tonight my hands are numb and it's physically impossible. Not even. Decent show overall, but nothing blow away. 

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.).