This pay per view holds a special place in my cold, hell bound heart. For one thing, this was the first pay per view that I ever watched; I had convinced my parents that paying $35 dollars to watch a fat guy named Booger beat the shit out of four guys dressed up like circus clowns was a sound investment. Apparently they were drunk when they decided to go through with buying the PPV, but my young mind failed to dwell on that unsavory element to focus entirely on watching my favorite wrestlers LIVE and IN LIVING COLOR!. Sadly, the PPV in question turned out to be a colossal piece of shit, but I was young and naïve and spent most of my free time reading Goosebumps and sucking on batteries so really, I was one step away from being clinically retarded. Regardless of the quality of the PPV, I still told all my friends at school how awesome it was in a bid to impress them. Sadly, this was when wrestling was actually less cool than Troll Dolls, so no one raised the roof when I made this revelation. Unless it had tits or came in POG form, 4th grade boys couldn’t give a flying fuck when it came to a 500 pound Samoan pretending to be Japanese. In retrospect (and after years of therapy), I’m inclined to see their point.

Live from Boston, MA.
Your hosts for most of the night are Vince McMahon in full-blown carnival barker mode on play-by-play with Bobby “The Brain” Heenan on color, in what turned out to be the last pay per view he would do with the WWE until the Gimmick Battle Royale at Wrestlemania XVII. Heenan worked best with Monsoon, but he definitely has chemistry with McShill. At the very least, you knew The Brain would say something funny to offset Vince’s near constant stream of inane horseshit like “1, 2, he got him NO he didn’t!” and “I swear officer, Snuka’s girlfriend just fell off the balcony on her own initiative!”
Razor Ramon, Marty Jannetty, The 1-2-3 Kid, and “Macho Man” Randy Savage vs. IRS, “The Model” Rick Martel, Diesel, and Adam Bomb
In the annals of cheap heat, IRS putting down the crowd by calling them “tax cheats” and threatening them with audits is somewhere between Rick Rude calling people fat and that one time that Ludvig Borga astutely pointed out that America smelled bad. I would also be remiss in not noting Jannetty’s HIDEOUS outfit, which looks like something out of a 1980s porno set at an aerobics class. Originally Mr. Perfect was on the face team but thanks to a wonderfully insightful explanation from Ramon (“Perfecto was so perfect, he tagged out”) we get Savage instead. Razor starts out with Martel, jockeying for position and trading arm wringers and hammerlocks before slapping the prissy Martel. The crowd is RABID for Ramon. An Irish whip to the corner leads to Martel trying a flying crossbody and getting caught by the Fake Cuban for two. Martel is whipped to the ropes again before trying another cross body before getting blockbuster slammed by Ramon. Cover gets two. Martel fights back before being atomic dropped into the face corner for additional punishment. Clotheslines from Razor leads to Martel tagging out to Bomb. (Heenan: “Bomb’s bigger than I.R…than Razor Ramon!” Vince: “Astute observation from the Brain!”). Bomb tosses Ramon around the ring to demonstrate his bad ass street creed. Side Headlock from Razor leads to Bomb shoulderblocking him to the mat as the crowd starts a “Razor” chant. And now for the time honored tradition of WWF matches from this era: The TEST OF STRENGH. In the days before Red Bull, this was the best time for Razor to shake off all those pesky hangovers, so it goes on for a long fucking time. Ramon fights out and impressively suplexes Bomb. Martel tries to save the pin but fucks up royally, leading to the heels all fighting with each other for a bit. Even Harvey Wippleman, who makes Kelly Kelly look like Finlay in the toughness department, gets his bony ass handed to him. This all leads to Kid getting in and putting a headlock on Bomb before promptly getting shoulderblocked. A sunset flip from Kid leads to Bomb rudely picking him up and slamming him. Diesel comes in and just hurls poor Kid half way across the ring. A gut wrench suplex from Diesel nearly kills Kid as the crowd “oohs” and “aahs” over the carnage. Kid is doing a fantastic job selling, as it should be pointed out that Diesel was still “Shawn Michaels’ bodyguard” at this point so nobody really gave a shit about the guy but now the crowd totally buys him as a monster. A big boot leads to Diesel’s 5th most used move (adjusting his glove). Amazingly, Diesel hadn’t even debuted what would become his most commonly used move (flipping his hair) since he only really did that when he was a face. An Irish whip leads to Kid headscissoring Diesel before making the hot tag to Savage. The Macho Man beats the living shit out of everybody before clearing the ring and delivering a flying elbow to a prone Diesel. A cover makes it academic and Diesel is out at 10:18. Martel immediately jumps Savage afterward, leading to a back body drop from Savage. Tag out to IRS, which leads to an “Irwin” chant. I think the problem with IRS is at the end of the day, no one will ever consider a guy named Irwin much of a threat. Well, that, and the fact that he wrestles in a tie like a complete moron. A crossbody from Savage leads to a two count. Clotheslines from Savage keep Irwin down before Ramon tags back in. A wristlock allows Razor to control the flow for a bit. A headlock follows before Ramon gets kicked in the back by Martel to give the heel team the advantage. Some quick double teaming leads to some quick tags from Martel and Bomb, as the heels slowly wear down Ramon. IRS switches out of a chinlock with Martel without tagging him in, which would have had Gorilla Monsoon shitting a brick if he was on color. After breaking free, Ramon nails Martel with a high knee (complete with slap to the thigh for that extra realism factor) but The Bad Guy fails to capitalize quickly enough. IRS gets back in but Ramon fights back with punches before tagging in Savage. A snake eyes and several bodyslams put IRS down, but Crush shows up at ringside. Savage immediately focuses all his attention on Crush before getting his ancient ass rolled up by IRS for the pin at 16:43. I imagine the word “focus” doesn’t enter into Savage’s vocabulary too often. A pissed off Savage heads off to the backstage area to search for the asshole who cost him the match, leading to such epic moments of wonder like Savage shouting “Where’s Crush?” about 20 times and kicking over a trash can in mild rage. Considering that Savage would go into berzerker mode when someone stole his beloved cowboy hat, this is not his finest hour of acting. Back at ringside, Bomb controls Jannetty with power moves before Martel tags in. We get the hoary “abdominal stretch with outside interference” from Martel and Bomb, as I patiently wait for “popping a kid’s balloon” to complete my Lame Heel Tactics Bingo card.  The ref breaks it up, leading to Razor coming in and battling IRS. A chokeslam from Razor knocks IRS silly, leading to the Razor’s Edge. IRS is pinned and gone at 19:32. Martel charges back in with punches before everybody suddenly runs into the ring and brawls. Ramon looks to hit the Edge again on Martel, but that devious IRS comes back in and nails Ramon with his steel briefcase (what was even in that thing anyway? I always imagined that he had a lot of pencils in there for some reason). Razor tumbles out of the ring and gets counted out at 20:40, making everything even between the teams. Kid and Martel begin trading leap frogs and cartwheels, as Heenan advises Martel to use Oreos and milk to distract the eerily pre-pubescent Kid. It’s hard to look at the clean shaven Kid without a tinge of sadness, knowing that he would eventually grow up to resemble a wet rat who apparently has no problem chowing down on Chyna’s crawdaddy sized clit, but there’s more depressing things to worry about later on in this show so it’s best to remove that thought from your brain as quickly as you can. Kid eventually goes for a tope suicida on a recently tagged in Bomb, but Bomb easily catches Kid and slams him to the cold, hard blue mats. A sweet slingshot clothesline knocks Kid out, but Kid manages to gain some momentum with a small package that gets a quick two count. Kid begins firing back with kicks, but Bomb is unfazed and drags Kid back into the heel corner before tagging out. A gourdbuster gets two for Martel. Martel tries for a double axehandle, but Kid punches him in the gut before making the rather lukewarm tag to Jannetty. Jannetty hits Martel with dropkicks and a knee to gut before tagging in the Kid back in. Martel reverses an Irish whip and sends the Kid into the corner, but he flips over into a sunset flip to get a three count and send Martel packing at 25:48. Bomb tries to grab the wily Kid before he tags out to Jannetty again, leading to another sunset flip (the staple of cruiserweight wrestling at the time) to get rid of Bomb at 26:02.
Survivors: Marty Jannetty and the 1-2-3 Kid
Rating: ***. A fast paced opener that the crowd really got into. Nothing spectacular or worth illegally downloading, but you could do a lot worse (like everything else on this show, for instance).
To the back, Todd Pettengill, who resembles the unholy union between a prop comedian and a goblin, interviews Shawn Michaels. A quick history lesson: Jerry Lawler was supposed to continue his feud with Bret Hart tonight, but rape allegations forced him to miss his match, necessitating Shawn Michaels being hastily added at the last minute. Michaels tries to his best to be a giant prick by running down the entire Hart clan but he’s fighting an uphill battle here since he has no real beef with Hart, apart from fighting him over a year ago at Survivor Series 1992 (something that everybody had forgotten about up until now). Oh well, at least they tried to salvage the angle, so I’ll give them points for tenacity.
Meanwhile, further in the back, Family Feud host Ray Combs presents us with the first dead person sighting of the evening, as the preternaturally cheerful game show MC ended up hanging himself with his own belt after his career fell apart and his wife left him. What a delightful image! Bret and his clan talk about how offended they are at Michaels’ comments, although pointing out that Stu Hart is ancient isn’t that all that shocking, given the fact that the faces on Mt. Rushmore look less weathered than Stu’s wrinkly mug. Further hampering this moment is the fact that Bruce Hart looks like a complete putz with his Terminator glasses and floppy blonde hair cut. Thankfully he keeps his mouth shut, unlike Keith Hart, whose droopy mustache, ill fitting clothes, and unmanly voice screams “assistant manager at Perkins” rather than “badass Hart brother”. Let’s soldier on.
Meanwhile, Ramon, Jannetty, and Kid search for the AWOL Savage. Ramon notes that “We ain’t here to jive, we’re here to survive!” which sadly never really took off as a catch phrase for the event. Also, Ramon didn’t even survive his own match so his sentiment isn’t exactly correct, but his “third grader impersonating Tony Montana accent” makes me laugh so I’ll forgive the guy. 
Bret “Hitman” Hart, “The Rocket” Owen Hart, Bruce Hart, and Keith Hart vs. “The Heartbreak Kid” Shawn Michaels, The Black Knight, The Red Knight, and The Blue Knight
For the purpose of edification, the knights are Jeff Gaylord, Barry Horowitz, and Greg “The Hammer” Valentine, respectively, all wearing gaudy knight costumes and executioner masks, which is either highly original or lamer than FDR. I’m leaning towards the latter. Before we even begin, we get Ray Combs haranguing a bored pissless crowd about how great the Harts are, how evil and stupid Shawn Michaels is, and making sure to individually introduce every single fucking member of the Hart brood to the audience. He even tosses in some “Your Momma is so ugly!” jokes, which are so hilarious that the crowd collectively yawns at each one. Oh, and Combs joins Vince and Bobby for commentary, and he spends most of his time laughing at Heenan’s hilariously cruel jokes made at the expense of Stu Hart. Well, someone’s having fun at least.  To the match, as Michaels starts off with Bruce. Side headlock leads to a quick tag out to Red before both heels collide after some miscommunication. Michaels tags back in before fucking up again, running into his partners for a second time as Keith Hart gets brought in. Keith gets Shawn into a wristlock before the two reverse off that for a bit while Vince apologizes for Keith’s ultra pedestrian wrestling style by noting the guy has “ring rust”. When even McMahon is ragging on you, you probably suck. Keith continues to work on Shawn’s arm, as Heenan continues to point out that Stu Hart is, in fact, older than fucking dirt. Shawn tags out to Red, who gets his arm worked over by Keith. Owen tags in and continues the punishment of the arm, pulling out his trademark “flip out of a wristlock” sequence before armdragging Red. Tag out to Black (the heavy of the team), who promptly gets hiptossed into the face corner for some weak punishment from the Harts. Blue and Bret get tagged in, as Bret gives him an atomic drop and a quick clothesline before tagging in Keith again.  More arm wringing as Bruce gets in, but finally the heels gain control after Shawn knees him in the back. Tagging in, Shawn drops some elbows as this match starts to drag. Red gets in and does a double hook suplex, which is the most impressive move any of the knights have done so far. If I didn’t know any better I’d say the Red Knight was William Regal based on his technical prowess! I would also say that The Blue Knight is Matt Hardy, but I base this observation solely off of his massive gunt. Anyways, Black gets in and punches a bunch. Michaels tags back in and kicks Bruce. Eventually Bruce tags out to Bret, who finally wakes up the crowd by utilizing all of his Five Moves of Doom on Black. A tag to Owen leads to a pier six brawl, as the heels are all whipped into each other before Owen nails Black with a missile dropkick for the pin at 10:30.  Owen continues with Red, working on his legs for a bit before Bret is tagged in to perform a wishbone. Bret tags out to Bruce, who continues lamely kicking Red’s leg. To Red’s credit, he actually sells the leg work by hobbling around the ring, but that doesn’t change the fact that Bruce and Keith Hart should not be in control for extended periods of time because their wrestling style is really dull. Blue tags in and gains the advantage, giving him a “Weenie Slap” (courtesy of Combs), before going into Hammer Default Mode #1 (e.g. dropping a shit ton of elbows). Shawn is tagged in and nails Keith’s shoulder with a double axehandle. Shawn yanks on Keith’s arm a bunch as I suddenly realize that Keith selling is actually worse than Keith on offense. The knights continue to pound on the shoulder before Shawn misses a splash, allowing Bret to tag in. Bret casually catches a charging Red and places him into the Sharpshooter for the quick submission at around 18:00. Blue rushes in to gain the advantage, tossing Bret to the floor for some punishment from Shawn. A suplex gets two on Bret. Shawn comes back in and whips Bret into the corner as the back becomes the focus for the moment. Shawn drops knees onto Bret’s back for a two count. Cyclone elbow gets two. A headlock on Bret slows things down some more. Blue comes back in for Hammer Default Mode #2 (e.g. throwing a shit ton of chops) before Bret regains the advantage with a flying clothesline before tagging in Owen. Owen nails Blue with a ten punch in the corner before delivering a double noggin knocker on Blue and a nosy Shawn. In an inspired moment, the cowardly Shawn flees right into the arms of the grizzled Stu, who knocks him silly with a punch. Shawn sells it as if he was punched by Popeye the Sailor Man before getting hit with a plancha from Owen. Crossbody on Blue gets a two, before Owen and Bruce double clothesline Shawn out of the ring (another impressive bump from Shawn). Dazed, Blue gets pounced on by Owen, who hooks the Sharpshooter and gets rid of him at 23:44. Shawn returns to the ring and gets punched by all the Harts. Bruce tags in and gets two off all of that. A missed charge allows Shawn to take control, nailing Bruce with a superkick (not yet established as his finisher), giving him a two. Bruce fights back and tags in Bret, who gives Shawn an atomic drop and a slingshot into the corner, as Shawn tries his best to make this match somewhat exciting. Bret drops some elbows before tagging in Owen, who hits Shawn with a release suplex for two. A woozy Shawn knocks Owen into Bret, hurling Bret into the guardrail and allowing Shawn to school boy Owen for the three count. Owen gets pissy as the Harts comfort the injured Bret, storming out in a huff as Bruce comes in with a clothesline on Shawn. Shawn escapes from a headlock as both guys lie around selling their beatings. Keith gets tagged in and hooks Shawn in his deadly finishing hold, the abdominal stretch (no, seriously, that was the guy’s finisher. It was simpler back in the 80s), but Shawn tosses him off in an impressive bit of strength. Bret is tagged in, flipping Shawn into the corner and doing that bit where he knocks Shawn on the top rope and yanks the rope up and down a bunch, presumably crushing poor Shawn’s nutsack. Did that “move” ever have a name? Oh, “riding the horsey”, if I follow what Combs just said. Bret goes for the Sharpshooter but Shawn slides out of the ring and takes the countout loss at 30:56. Fuck that was long. Sadly, the celebrations are short lived, as Owen returns to the ring to bitch at his brothers for a bit. The Harts leave him in the ring to stew, as the inevitable heel turn looms in the near future for Owen. Another thing to be thankful for this Thanksgiving: Owen would no longer wear those awful faded neon colored baggy pants with the checker flag suspenders, as one of the benefits about heel turns is that there is always an upgrade in clothing (except for IRS. He always looked like a fucking nerd).  
Survivors: Bret Hart, Bruce Hart, and Keith Hart
Rating: *1/2 Really boring with way too many slow patches. The crowd was deader than my dick while watching The View, and the only bright spots were Heenan unleashing a torrent of abuse onto the Harts and Shawn bumping like a meth addict. 
We get a video explanation behind the feud between the All-Americans and the Foreign Fanatics. Undefeated Native American Tatanka finally loses a match to Ludvig Borga, who beats him with a chair before pinning him with one finger. “Out of nowhere” Yokozuna appears (how does that one work? I’d imagine it’s pretty easy to know where Yokozuna is, considering that he weights 500 lbs and moves with the grace of a walrus) and delivers several Banzai Drops to the now legally dead Tatanka. Lex Luger tries to make the save but is ambushed by the Quebecers, as Todd Pettengill calls the whole thing “a conspiracy”. Considering that Borga, Yokozuna, and the Quebecers were already America hating foreigners at this point, maybe conspiracy isn’t the right word here, since the whole thing is about as shocking as me beating my dick raw whenever my Dad gets Cinemax for a monthly preview. But fear not wrestling fans, as Luger introduces the suddenly patriotic Undertaker as the newest member of the All-American complete with an American flag sewn into his coat to really sell the bit. Eh, at least it’s better than having Tatanka on your team, since his matches mostly consisted of chopping and “going on the warpath” and who would have had me “smoking the peace pipe” if he was involved in the main event tonight. Well, it’s The Survivor Series, you got to do everything you can to survive this garbage. The plot thickens (like Yokozuna after a trip to the Sizzler), as Luger takes out Quebecer Pierre thanks to his stainless steel forearm, resulting in The Foreign Fanatics adding Crush into the mix. It’s worth noting that Crush is actually from the dreaded foreign nation of Hawaii, but that’s a minor quibble since Vince apparently thinks I do not have access to either a globe or a fucking map.
Smokey Mountain Tag Team Championships: The Rock N Roll Express (c) vs. The Heavenly Bodies
Jim Ross and Gorilla Monsoon join us on commentary, probably because JR is the only one who could possibly explain to WWF fans why they should give a flying fuck about the Rock and Roll Express. As part of a deal with McMahon, Cornette provided his services as the mouthpiece for Yokozuna (since Fuji’s Charlie Chan accent wasn’t packing the buildings in at this point) while allowing the Smokey Mountain Tag Team Championship to be defended at Survivor Series. This is all well and good for Smokey Mountain fans, but the WWF fans still have no idea who any of these guys are at this point and they remain largely mute throughout the whole endeavor as a result. A brawl abrupts, leading to a tope suicida from Ricky Morton onto both Bodies, as Jim Ross rags on Cornette’s fashion sense (“don’t adjust your television sets!”) while name dropping the Midnight Express.  Gibson starts out with Del Ray, using a headlock and headscissors to keep him down. Morton comes in and gives both Bodies a ton of hiptosses, leading to a pair of monkey flips in the corner to absolute silence from the crowd. I don’t blame them, it’s hard to get behind two guys who look like they should be manning the Tilt a Whirl at the Jones County Fair. The Expess then set the Way Back Machine to 1985 and whip out the Row Your Boat spot, which even as a child I thought looked ineffective and silly.  For those at home who have no idea what I’m talking about, imagine something you’d see in a Pilates class and you’re on the right track. The Express double team Pritchard with uneventful leg work. Del Ray tags in as the nostalgia tour continues with a double noggin knocker being utilized by the Express. I should note that Del Ray looks like Sheamus’ inbred cousin from Asslick, Kentucky, which is not a pretty sight. Pritchard finally wakes up the crowd with a sit down powerbomb, leading to some grinding from Del Ray (ugh…) before he impressively nails Morton with an Asai moonsault. Pritchard comes back in as the beating of Morton continues, nailing him with a powerslam for a two count (the first pinfall of the match, oddly enough). Del Ray tags in and drops knees on Morton while the Bodies pull off some decent double teams for a few two counts. Before I can even unleash that no doubt witty bon mot, Morton whips out a counter Frakensteiner to get a two count on Del Ray, followed by a small package on an incoming Pritchard for two. Del Ray tags back in with a moonsault for two, but Gibson breaks up the pin. Morton finally makes the non-existent hot tag to Gibson after hitting a double DDT on the Bodies, leading to a brawl between both teams. Pritchard tosses Gibson out of the ring, which would be a DQ in Smokey Mountain Wrestling but in the WWF it’s perfectly legal. Apparently not aware of this development (what research!) the Express argue with the ref for a bit while the crowd collectively says “What the fuck is going on?” The Express unleash their deadly finisher, the double team dropkick (high tech shit!), but the ref gets distracted and Del Ray uses Cornette’s deadly tennis racket to pick up the win and the titles at 13:40. And the crowd goes vaguely apathetic to this title change. If only if this was Kentucky and the audience consisted of the inbred hicks from that movie Wrong Turn, then maybe this match would have meant more in the grand scheme of things.
Rating: **1/2 The Express didn’t exactly light up the crowd with their carny offense, but the match was perfectible acceptable for what it was aiming for (allowing the crowd to get nachos and delighting the five fans of Smokey Mountain Wrestling who saved up six months of paychecks from their jobs as baggers at the Piggly Wiggly to purchase this PPV).
Doink Luke, Doink Butch, Doink Mo, and Doink Mabel vs. Bam Bam Bigelow, Bastion Booger, Samu, and Fatu
For those wondering what level of hell they have entered, it’s the level where Doink “tricks” people by having them fight the fucking Bushwhackers, but the absence of any midget clowns would indicate that we haven’t reached the ninth circle yet. Did I mention that the heels are eating whole turkeys and bananas throughout the bout? Chekov’s Gun immediately comes to mind. Meanwhile, the pissed off audience chants “We Want Doink” which the Doink team takes as a cheer (?), thereby completing the surrealism of the whole thing. If the fans are so upset that they actually chant for Doink the motherfucking Clown, you probably fucked up royally. Booger starts with Luke, giving him a couple of elbows and a sloppy splash before getting bit on his ass. Keeping it classy I see. Samu tags in and continues the assault, before the Doinks fuck him up by having him bite a waterballoon, causing him to momentarily be stunned and get rolled up for the three at 3:00. Heenan speculates that the balloon was full of ammonia (!) as Fatu no sells a headbutt from Butch before delivering a vertical suplex. Booger comes in for a legdrop as Bigelow is tagged in for further punishment (to the audience), doing nothing of note except some choking. Booger is brought back in to deliver A Trip to the Bat Cave (AMAZING name for a finisher) to Butch, but he fails to capitalize in order to eat a banana. Really, there’s a time and place for being a fat slob, and now’s not the time. Booger goes for the move again, misses it like a complete idiot, and gets battering rammed by the Whackers and legdropped by Mabel to get eliminated at 5:59. Fatu uses a turkey to add some power to his punches as this match just loses all semblance of flow. Speaking of losing it, Mo comes in with a scooter. Mo gets dropkicked as Fatu utilizes a flying splash to get a two count before getting distracted by a banana peel. Butch comes in without a tag, threatens Fatu with a bucket, which causes Fatu to SLIP ON A BANANA PEEL and get his lame ass pinned at 8:53. In another moment that makes me want to gnaw off my wrists, Fatu actually has to position himself by the banana peel so the illusion of him slipping is not shattered. Too late for that methinks. This leaves Bigelow alone with the Doinks, and thankfully he cleans house on all the clowns as Vince has an orgasm over how big Mabel is. Note to Vince: No matter how big someone is, wearing purple and gold will not make you a badass motherfucker. Bigeow controls for a bit before Luna Vachon gets doused with glitter, leading to a dog pile from all the Doinks at around 10:20. To complete the burial, the real Doink (not Matt Bourne, as he was gone at this point) appears on the Titan Tron to taunt Bam Bam with some choice put downs (namely, pointing out that Luna Vachon looks like a dog). The Beast from the East angrily stomps around while screaming “Where’s Doink?” as my brain drips out of my skull.
Survivors: Doink Butch, Doink Luke, Doink Mo, and Doink Mabel,
Rating: Zero Stars. Just a fucking mess from start to finish. Oddly enough, this was at least more coherent than next year’s Doink match, which threw six midgets into the mix and was about as enjoyable as crotch rot.
To the back, as Team Doink celebrates with an impromptu rendition of “Whoomp, There It Is!” At this point, it’s ok to kill yourself, since you’re just skipping ahead to meet Jesus.
A promo with the Foreign Fanatics follows, as Cornette tries his damndest to put over the main event. Meanwhile, Johnny Polo (the preppie version of Raven) mugs outrageously for the camera. Believe it or not, there was a point where Raven didn’t have a gut or looked like he smelled like a dead skunk.
A “historical perspective” follows, as Vince delivers a verbal blowjob to the city of Boston. Scattered throughout this Ken Burnsesque narration, the All Americans appear and vow to destroy the Foreign Fanatics once and for all. We even get a clip from John F Kennedy’s historic “Ask not what your country can do for you…” speech, which is not really applicable to the match at hand apart from the fact that I’m sure watching it will feel like I’m getting my brains blown out in front of my wife. Also, can you really be a US citizen and hail from Death Valley? Do people really reside in National Parks?
“Made in the USA” Lex Luger, The Undertaker, Scott Steiner, and Rick Steiner vs. Yokozuna, Ludvig Borga, Jacques, and Crush
Vince notes that Yokozuna was recently on Conan O’Brian. As this was back in the days when nobody watched Conan and his ratings were lower than the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie infomercial, this isn’t really something to be proud of. Is it too ghoulish to mention that on the heel side, all but The Mountie is still alive? Must be the Canadian health care. That, or the fact that Jacques is neither a fat fuck, a drug addict, or a suicidal Finn who actually held elected office at one point. Scott and Jacques start out, leading to a belly to belly suplex from Scott for two. Rick is tagged in as Jacques skips away to tag in Yokozuna. Jacques was really good at playing the cowardly prick heel. Yoko comes and pounds Rick down, although Rick comes back with shoulderblocks which knock the fat fuck out of the ring. Yoko tags out to Borga, who promptly gets hit with a flying shoulderblock from Rick for two. He goes for what looks like a flying crossbody (lucha Rick!), but Borga blows a powerslam that looks like it fucked up Rick. A pinfall at 5:09 gets rid of the injured Rick. Crush saves Jacques from getting press slammed by Scott (Jacques shacking Crush’s hand in gratitude is a great touch). Scott hits Crush with a butterfly bomb and a clothesline for a two. Crush comes back with a “martial art kick” (Hawaiian-Fu?) as Savage returns and tries to charge the ring before being dragged back by officials. Crush continues to methodically kick Scott as Savage runs back again as Crush stupidly gets distracted and counted out at 11:40. A short brawl erupts to further their eventual hardcore match at Wrestlemania XX as Jacques goes into a camel clutch on the weakened Scott. A nice piledriver gets two. Irish whip reversal from Scott leads to another press slam and a hot tag to Luger. A slam and a second rope elbow leads to Jacques going home at 14:05. Not nearly as bad as getting pinned off a clothesline (a tradition at The Survivor Series, like turkeys and low-buyrates), but it’s pretty close. Borga uses some clotheslines before stupidly going to the top rope, leading to a superplex from Scott for a hot two count. Yoko illegally comes in, leading to Scott actually going for a frakensteiner (!) with predictable results. A legdrop gets rid of the deadwood at 17:00 as I ponder Scott’s grasp on how physics work. Yokozuna controls on Luger for a while with chops as Borga comes in to punch Luger for a while. Luger eventually tags in Undertaker, which the crowd goes batshit for. A floatover DDT and throat thrusts follow as the crowd is just screaming at everything Taker is doing. Yoko puts him down with a belly to belly and legdrops, leading to a Banzai Drop. A second Banzai Drop misses following the Zombie Sit up as Taker and Yoko brawl outside. Yoko bugging out his eyes in terror of Taker’s no selling easily makes this the highlight of the match so far, but both guys get counted out at 23:25. Now let’s see if Lex Luger, God Incarnate, can burn out this previously hot crowd in record time. Borga hits Luger with a legdrop for two. A sideslam gets two. A delayed vertical suplex gets two. A Powerslam gets two as the crowd waits for the inevitable Luger victory. Luger and Borga clothesline each other for the double KO spot, as Fuji tosses the dreaded ceremonial salt bucket into the ring. Borga bops Luger on the head with it and gets a two count as Luger mounts his comeback. An elbow, clothesline, and running elbow allows Luger to get the pin at 37:30. I never thought I would say this, but Hulk Hogan’s comebacks were more exciting than Luger’s. At least the bald bastard had some passion for his craft, as Luger wears the face of a man who’s on hour eight of a George Lopez Show marathon. Anyways, back to the ring as SANTA CLAUS himself comes to ringside to congratulate Luger. I imagine this is supposed to get the crowd to care, but not even St. Nick himself can get the Boston Garden on their feet. Personally, I wish a guy dressed up like a Pilgrim had come out to shake Luger’s hand, because that would be both holiday appropriate and far more entertaining than this show. The fake snow begins to fall from the rafters as Vince notes how appropriate this all is. If you ever needed a moment to pinpoint exactly when Vince McMahon completely lost his mind, you could easily start here.
Survivor: Lex Luger
Rating: **. Apart from the brief Taker-Yoko battle, the match wasn’t terribly interesting or enjoyable. The failure of the God Push of Lex Luger is at least amusing to watch, in that car wreck kinda way.
Verdict: Isolated bright spots aside, this was a fucking awful pay per view with bad wrestling and really horrible booking. Even as a child I remember thinking that none of this was really that interesting, and I think my initial impressions were right. And for those who would like a visual equivalent of the horror I just witnessed, here’s a clip of The Fabulous Ones working out for 2 minutes straight. Believe it or not, both of the Fabulous Ones are more charismatic in this one video than Lex Luger was tonight, and they look like the Bee Gees on growth hormones.


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