Welcome to Wrestlemania XXI: the showcase of the immortals!…But hey, if this was really true, don’t you think there’d be a whole lot less dead wrestlers out there? Just saying.
show comes to us from
Onto the show…
-Just in case your forgot that were indeed still American, Lillian Garcia opens up the Festivities with "America the Beautiful". Sadly, "Canada, the cold and depressing" and "England, the grey, damp and colorless" were left off Lillian's song list. Too bad.
-No real opening video
package here, rather, we just get another movie parody,
this time of Stone Cold Steve Austin doing “Gladiator”.
Hey, I didn’t
know they had plastic orthopedic knee braces in Ancient
Eddie Guerrero w/ Lying, cheating and stealing vs. Rey Mysterio w/ lying... about his height. 5'6"? Come on.
Hey, if Eddie gets a vehicular entrance, why not Rey? I’m sure there’s a tricycle backstage somewhere. Ah, I kid. Good match here, and a decent pick for the opener. Before the match started, Cole brought up the fact that just last year Eddie was wrestling in the main event for the WWE Title. Talk about burying the poor guy. Umm, Cole, reminding people that Eddie is now jerking the curtain is not doing wonders for his credibility. Quite the analyst this guy is. He's like a dude who'll go to a cancer ward and tell the poor fucker, "Just last year you had hair and more than six months to live". I hate Cole. Why not just tell everyone next that Eddie's wife is fat, and he suffers from Erectile dysfunction? Might as well strike while the iron's hot, douche bag.
Anyway, the one drawback to this match was the fact that Rey couldn’t seem to keep his mask in check and kept readjusting it, which kind of made things somewhat awkward. I can relate. My mask is always getting askew too. Makes it real hard to try and pick up women in the dead of the night. That's right. Anyway, Mysterio hits a great flying corkscrew plancha on Eddie on the arena floor, then eventually, back inside, Eddie regains the advantage, and hits all Three Amigos. Start with Chevy Chase. He deserves it for making such shitty movies. OK then. Anyway, Eddie goes up, but misses the frog splash, as Rey, unlike, umm, frogs has the presence of mind to roll clear. It's at this point that Cole starts rattling on whether we'll see the "REAL" Eddie Guerrero tonight. Real Eddie? Quite frankly, I'm a little surprised that Eddie had the know-how to create a completely identical clone of himself. But if anyone could do it, it's Eddie. In fact, I picture him breaking into a Lab, stealing the vital DNA information needed to create such a replica, then quickly tossing his weapon to a security guard, and laying out cold on the ground. While the rest of the security guards bicker, Eddie then slips out, and jumps into his get away low-rider and bounces out of there to the beats of his wrestling theme music. Completely plausible, right? OK, maybe not. I truly suspect John Lauranatis had a hand in it. He's been wanting an entire company full of clones for years, so it is the most likely answer....
Holy shit. I sure hijacked this fucking match, eh?
Anyway, my ridiculousness aside, Rey connects with a 619, then in turn goes for the West Coast Pop, but that’s violently countered by Eddie into a powerbomb for a really close nearfall. Awesome counter. The end sees Eddie try a tilt-o-whirl backbreaker, but Rey rolls through into a cradle and picks up the win. The real Eddie backstage then cries out in anger, while the Eddie Guerrero clone in the ring dissolves into liquid, and is quickly replaced by a second without anyone noticing. True story.
Winner: Rey Mysterio; who gets his first ever WM win, after two consecutive losses. And Eddie Guerrero gets another "loss" after, umm, hundreds of them? Jesus. This poor guy probably does more jobs than any main eventer in history. You know when your last singles win on PPV in 12 months reads "Luther Reigns", that it's time to get your shit together.
[Sean's note from 2007: Eddie would of course eventually get his "revenge" on Rey a few months later by revealing to the world that he was in fact the biological father of Dominic, umm, Mysterio. This was of course proven by the fact that Dominic had actually human colored eyes, was taller than Rey...at 8 years old, and would get up for school every morning by rolling his hips. Or maybe that's just how I figured the parentage was figured out. Whatever. All I know is, saying your somebody's real Dad is some pretty shitty revenge, if you ask me. "I SHALL HAVE THE LAST LAUGH ON YOU, REY MYSTERIO! AS NOW I HAVE TO PAY ALMOST A DECADE'S WORTH OF BACKLOGGED CHILD SUPPORT! WAIT. SHIT!"].
-JBL is seen walking in the back with his chief of staf and new U.S. Champion(dear lord) O.J. And for the record, that's Orlando Jordan and not O.J. Simpson. Although, with the impending 2005 Divas search coming up quickly, I'd personally have no problems with Jordan spontaneously turning to random murder. Just saying. Hell, someone could just hand Vince a waiter's tray too, we'll make a night of it!
Anyway, JBL runs into HHH backstage, and the two argue over who is the "better" champion. Dear god, that's like Steve Buscemi and Iggy Pop arguing over who's better looking. After bickering, HHH says, "Ya, but do you purposely hold down guys for no reason?" to which JBL answers "Only when I'm in the shower!" Ok, this didn't happen. I lied. They just put themselves over and guaranteed victory. I like my version better.
Money in the Bank Ladder match:
Edge vs. Christian vs. Chris Benoit vs. Chris Jericho
I love ladder matches, I'll admit it. Even if some of the offense tends to be somewhat hokey. For example, in the WWE beyond-all-realism hyperbole universe, Ladders can weigh in excess of 200 POUNDS. Yes, a 200-300 pound LADDER. Of course made out of the HEAVIEST metal known to man, ALUMINUM. Wow. My Dad must be the strongest dude in the UNIVERSE, because I distinctly remember him carrying one of these with one hand out of the basement to change a lightbulb when I was a kid. He was that mighty.
Anyway, they pretty much booked this one the way they usually do their triple threats, a few chaos spots, but mostly two guys going at it while the rest sell on the floor like they’ve just been run over by a steamroller. Or crushed by a quarter ton ladder. Whichever.
Excellent match here for what it was, and what it was, was a total spot-fest…but in a good way. Kane starts this thing out by dominating everyone, but Benoit soon takes over after countering a chokeslam off the ladder into a crossface. Edge interrupts, and gets one too for his troubles, but refuses to "tap". If only he had this same fight to resist umm, tapping, Lita's ass. Matt would still have a job. Instead of just a box of luchamasks taking up space in his garage that he can't seem to get the Ex to ever come pick up. From there, Kane picks up the ladder and smashes it into Benoit’s shoulder (this is a huge plot point later) and Chris does a great sell job.
Anyway, there’s some
pretty inventive spots from here (including a ladder
conchairto by E&C), however, the star of the night, in
my humble opinion goes to Shelton Benjamin. This guy is
so fucking good it’s scary. He easily gets the spot of
the year when he runs up one ladder that is positioned
on another upright ladder like a ramp, and clotheslines
Winner: Edge; who is now 4 and 0 at Wrestlemania! He’s also 1 and 0 at fucking other people’s girlfriends. Undefeated all around. But itchy in the crotch area. Oh well.
-Eugene comes out next to a mixed reaction, and declares his love for midgets. You and me both, buddy. This brings out Muhammad Hassan and Daivari, who’s wearing a white suit that makes him look like when he’s not stirring up negative race relations, he’s serving ice cold Nutty buddies from his Good Humor truck. Weapons of Mass... Deliciousness?
Anyway, Hassan attacks Eugene and puts him in the camel clutch, but not before making THAT THROAT SLASHING INNUENDO THAT I THOUGHT WAS NOW FORBIDDEN. They then cut away to Luther Reigns, who cries a single tear at Hassan’s apparent insensitivity at his life's misfortunes. Ok, maybe not. Anyway, as if it wasn’t obvious, this brings out Hulk Hogan…dressed in his gear and coming out to a cued “Real American” as if this was to suggest that it wasn’t a totally spontaneous moment and it was planned this way! If only real life was like this. Being a hero would be SO MUCH cooler. Someone's robbing a bank, and suddenly your strange nu-metal theme music starts blaring from nowhere and you thwart the robbery. Clearly life needs to be more like Wrestling. Clearly.
Hulk goes to work on both Hassan & Daivari, and tosses Hassan from the ring, no sells a Daivari chair shot, then tosses him out. He however strangely doesn’t drop a single leg (although at his age it’s bound to fall off eventually). Of course from there, Hulk poses and we catch a glimpse at ringside of the “Hogan” family (not to be confused with these guys.) You know, that Brooke’s not too bad on the eyes, but man, poor Nasty Nick. Boy, did puberty put the fucking (big) boots to this poor awkward bastard. His face looked like it was actually giving birth to the Hulkster at certain angles. I wonder if he has any overweight friends? And if he does, I'd like to know how they feel about him always scooping them up and slamming them for no reason.
The Undertaker vs. Randy Orton;
Here we have a battle between two men known for their streaks: Undertaker’s undefeated WM record, and Orton, who's been known to leave brown ones in people’s carryall, if certain rumors are to be believed...
The big story here of course was whether the Deadman would surrender his celebrated record, but the finish became kind of telegraphed since it was revealed recently that Orton requires surgery and will be out of action for at least 4 months. But hey, it's taken his dad 20 years to get over a broken wrist, so maybe this is the last we've seen of the Legend killer.
Anyway, the build to this one struck me particularly funny. Orton proved that he "had what it took" to beat The Undertaker by "breaking up" with Stacy Keibler on RAW by RKOing her. Heh. Maybe if you were going into a feud with fucking Steve Austin, this might start a competitive rivalry, but how in the world would this ever impress The Undertaker? Dear lord. But you got to hand it to Randy. That was just about the most creative break up ever. I mean, why break up gently, when you can just drop her on her head? At least that way, you can pack up your shit and skedaddle before she had the presence of mind to toss it all on the driveway. That Orton's a thinker.
The HIGHLIGHT of this match for me was Cowboy Bob getting involved, and using his CAST on Taker, allowing Randy to get a nearfall. I just love these nostalgia spots. (See Arn’s spinebuster at WM 18). Anyway, Taker recovers and swats Ace off the apron, and looks to finish Orton with a chokeslam, but Orton counters that in mid lift into an RKO and gets another really close count. Orton, a little frustrated, signals that he’s going for a TOMBSTONE, as I begin to yell “Noooooooooooooo!” in slow motion like in the movies. You see, this is a death trap. Much like Ric Flair going to the top rope, someone trying to powerbomb Billy Kidman or Rey Mysterio, or trying to kick Kurt Angle in the stomach… THIS NEVER WORKS. NOT EVER. Undertaker simply reverses the attempt and plants Orton with his own to get win number thirteen.
Winner: Undertaker. Loser: any one Diva not smart off enough to padlock their luggage when Randy’s around.
Christy Hemme w/ Lita w/ questionable sexual morality vs. (C) Trish Stratus for the Women’s Title;
This year they’ve decided to amalgamate the Playboy nonsense and the women’s Title match into one package. My pervert side says, “Sure, it’s Ok to masturbate to this.” However, my Smark side says, “Appreciate workrate, Sean!” Jerking off to wrestling makes Mitsuharu Misawa cry!” Ultimately, the first began to win out, but luckily, I was brought back to earth as my guests cried out “Dude, put your cock away, you’re freaking us out!”…
The big story to this one is of course that Hemme is a Playboy covergirl and Trish doesn't respect her for what she believes is Hemme capitalizing on this to get a undeserved push. And isn't it technically true? In the real world, huge opportunities don't fall into your lap just because you're naked. Trust me. Just the other day, I kicked off my pants at work in hopes I'd get a promotion. And once I was back from jail, I found that nothing had changed. Wrestling has baffled me.
Anyway, we're told by JR that Hemme has been the protégé of LITA, who has apparently "trained" her for this match. Dear god! That'd be like asking Kamikaze pilot to give you flying lessons. Well, if you could find one alive, which of against the point. Obviously I haven't thought this joke through. Anyway, Lita's "training" apparently works out for Hemme who holds her own decently, and somehow manages to not disintegrate by match's end, or at the very least look at a guy dressed like Rey Mysterio with a keen new Interest. I guess she only picked up certain pointers.Trish dominates early, but Christy turns the tide with good old fashion kick to the box (seriously) while Lita had the ref distracted. Eventually, though, after a somewhat botched rollup reversal spot, but Trish gets the win after a chick-kick out of nowhere.
Winner: Trish Stratus. Loser: Christy, for choosing Lita as a mentor. I mean, come on. After learning the Twist of Fate, and that falling on your head is "bad", what is there really left to learn from this woman? You know, other than to know "something's up" when Danny Doring buys you a rain hat for your birthday.
HBK vs. Kurt Angle;
I absolutely LOVED the build-up to this match, and was very entertained by Angle’s vow to accomplish everything that HBK has done in his ENTIRE career, all inside of 4 weeks... although, I was somewhat perplexed as to how Angle was going to refuse to lose some ten championships inside one month…
Anyway, to be honest, this match to me was the only one that had that “big match feel” up to this point, and boy did they not disappoint.
The match started off slow, on the mat, as Michaels and Kurt traded various rest-holds, but soon it got more heated. On the floor, Angle delivers a vicious Angle-slam into the post outside the ring, and goes to work on the back again inside. Eventually the action spills back outside, where Angle tries to German suplex Michaels off the apron! But HBK counters with a low-blow that draws surprising heel heat. Still outside, HBK hits a crazy modified Asai moonsault as Angle lay on the announce table but both slide off and it doesn’t break. Still a great spot, though.
Anyway, both men slowly recover, and make it back inside before a count of 10. Michaels rallies and hits his top rope elbow, and sets up for some chin music but Angle sees it coming (I don’t know, maybe he actually HEARD THE STOMPING?) and hooks in an anklelock, but Michaels gets the ropes, again to some boos. A great series of counters by both men next, as Angle goes for more anklelocks but HBK keeps countering them into pin attempts. Finally, Angle settles on the Angle slam and goes up for a huge moonsault. Ross insists this is a page from HBK’s book, but I insist Kurt is the author of this particular “book” because I’ve seen him peel off the moonsault many times (fucking JR.). Anyway, that misses, and HBK heads up, but Kurt is playing possum and hits a HUGE top rope Angle slam!- but HBK still kicks out! Angle, rightfully frustrated, grabs Michaels and berates him, telling him that his time is over, but Michaels pulls back and hits a straight superkick on the button and Angle is out. I guess he was tired of that whole "turn the other cheek" thing. I don't blame him. From there, slow to cover, HBK only gets a really close 2. Angle then revives and grabs Michaels ankle! HBK tries to kick away but Angle keeps rolling through; Michaels try to get the ropes but Angle pulls him back. Finally, Angle scissors the leg and after almost a minute of writhing, Michaels taps out. Bret Hart watching from Calgary then cackles to himself, and puts his HBK voodoo doll back in the drawer, and says "mission accomplished".
Seriously though, I’ll never say anything bad about HBK again (well, maybe). AWESOME match.
Winner: Kurt Angle; Clearly, if this rivalry has proven ANYTHING, it's that Kurt needs to accept Jesus into his heart. Because if JC can reform Marty Jannetty (Martyr Jannetty?) from slipping GHB into young girls drinks, and allow Shawn to permanently re-attach his smile, surely he can do wonders for a “broken freakin’ neck”!….
-Piper’s Pit is next. Hot Rod comes out looking a MILLION times better than he did the last time we saw him. He must have finally given birth. Anyway, Piper calls out Austin, whom he takes offense to being labeled “WWE’s biggest rebel.” Who the fuck ever called Austin that? Piper slaps Austin right off the bat, and Austin slaps him back without hesitating. Although, my theory is that since Piper was wearing a skirt here, he couldn't help himself. Ah, I kid, Steve.
Anyway, the two trade insults, but Carlito of all people interrupts, and tells both men that no one wants to see them anymore. Piper tells Carlito that he looks like “Alfalfa”, but I think he meant Buckwheat. Oh, well. His heart is at least in the right place. I think. Maybe. Who knows though with a shape like Piper's. Piper then grabs Carlito’s apple and spits it in his face,and this leads to CCC attacking Piper, until Austin pulls him off. What's it with Piper and fruit? If you ever see him in the fruit or produce aisle in the super market, I seriously suggest just turning your buggy around. It can only end badly for you. That said, one Roddy eye-poke later, Austin stuns Carlito, and Austin and Hot Rod celebrate with some beer. HEY! WHAT ABOUT PIPER'S SICKNESS?! I guess it comes and goes. Austin then of course stuns Piper. Enjoyable stuff from both guys here.
Big Show Vs. Akebono: Sumo Match.
The rules for this one is that it must be completely terrible and uninteresting.…. (that, and you have to throw your opponent out of the circle or take him off his feet.)
Anyway, both men doff their robes reveal their sumo diapers. I then pontificated if Big Show’s “special friend” Joy Giovanni helped Show with his diaper, you know, because she has so much experience in this department because SHE HAS BABIES AT HOME! REMEMBER? DAMN YOU BIG SHOW, YOU HOMEWRECKER!
Anyway, both men waddle about the ring and sprinkle salt to rid the ring of “evil spirits”; however this still wasn’t enough to purify me of the nightmares I’ll be having this evening thinking about Show’s shaved taint. And I don’t know about you, but I could go an entire fucking lifetime without having ever seen the Big Show’s pubic bone. Holy shit.
Finally, after throwing the salt, for which I figured Show would be apprehensive about, since he loves food so much, they stall a bit, and this thing gets underway…and lasts about 2 minutes as Akebono easily wins, rolling the half naked Giant awkwardly out of the ring after minimal effort. (Kind of like my lovemaking.) Congrats Big Show; you’re now 0-6 at Wrestlemania! And congrats Akebono, you've knocked Butterbean off his lofty perch as greatest "destroy the credibility of the guy who'll still be working here tomorrow, Non-pro wrestler Wrestlemania competitor" ever!
Winner: Not my eyes. That’s for sure. Now, if I was Big Show, I'd go get changed quickly if I was him. If Snitsky spots you in that diaper, well, I don't think I have to tell you what happens next.
(C) JBL Vs. John Cena: WWE Championship match.
Ah yes. The WWE Title match. Wrestling God vs. God, is he trying to actually wrestle? No? Ok, how about Wall street vs. umm, Wahlberg? Sounds about right.
Anyway, I don’t know what the hell happened here, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but, THIS WAS NO WAY TO END JBL’S TITLE REIGN. There I said it. Anyway, it’s not that the match was terrible, because JBL actually worked very hard. But it was just so obvious how little they care about this Title. It was like this match was trapped in a heat vacuum, as the crowd was completely apathetic towards the match and Cena in particular, as there was even a smattering of boos for him. What up wit dat, Dawg?
Anyway, JBL dominates much of the tempo here, and actually carries this match. YES, YOU HEARD RIGHT. JBL CARRIED A MATCH. And normally, I'd find out if in fact Hell had frozen over, but I was afraid they might suddenly remember it was my time to spend eternity there, so I didn't bother. Good thinking.
JBL dominates much of this match, but Cena rallies after a while and catches JBL with a powerslam as he jumped off the 2nd rope. 5 knuckle shuffle followed a by a charge in the corner by Cena, but JBL gets his foot up. JBL then goes for the Clothesline from Manhattan by way of Hell, but Cena ducks and hits the anti-climatic F-U out of nowhere for the win and the title. That’s it. No false finishes. No hope spots. No outside interference. Nothing. Just a midcard style match…that by the way was for the WWE’s Championship. Ten months of building and it ends like this. Hell, even my former boss the Honky Tonk Man went out in a more exciting fashion in 1988.
Winner and new champion: John Cena! He's the First BLACK World Champion in WWE history!!!! Wait, he's white? With those sweet rhymes? You be straight trippin'.
-Mean Gene Okerlund now comes out and introduces the Hall of Fame Class of 2005. Unfortunately, the crowd was dead for this, and that’s a shame. Anyway, for the record, each Legend was accompanied by a SmackDown Diva, in a strange collaboration of silicone, collagen, and cauliflower ears all coming together in perfect unison. It's was poetic, and disgusting.
First up was Nikolai Volkoff (who should have been wearing his red pin-striped suit for continuity sake), then the Iron Sheik, followed by Mr. Atrophy err, I mean “Wonderful”, Paul Orndorff, who was flanked by Miss Jackie. Orndorff actually looked happy for once, and probably couldn’t wait to get Jackie backstage and demonstrate some his world famous Power Plant “Hindu squats” on her. From there, we had Jimmy Hart, Bob Orton, Roddy Piper, and Hulk Hogan. My question though is this: Where the fuck was Mr. T? Surely he deserved to be in the WWE’s “celebrity wing”?... that’s of course a LEGIT part of the HOF and not just a clever way to garner media attention for the WWE with the addition of Pete Rose last year! My second pick would of course be Jonathan Taylor Thomas because he once beat Mr. Bob Backlund in a game of chess. Not to be confused with the game of human chess Larry Zybysko is always yammering on about. And speaking of which, why is this flagrant HUMAN ATROCITY allowed to take place? Someone needs to stop Zybysko from capturing innocent people and using them as pawns in his evil game of giant chess! The HUMANITY. And yes, I just felt like hijacking this whole fucking thing. That's right.
(C) Triple H Vs. Batista for World Heavyweight Title;
Hey, it’s Motorhead! Here to perform “The Game” live! Hey! Someone should probably remind Lemmy what the lyrics to this fucking song are ‘cause I think buddy is just winging it here. “I am the Game, Inaudible garble, garble, garble!" Anyway, HHH emerges from the stage from there, Gangrel style; only he’s not a bloodsucking vampire… although he tends to leave most of his opponent's pushes that way. That's right.
Batista gets no such fancy intro, although I muse at him cutting what appeared to be the Cabbage-patch on the spot at the top of the ramp. There's never a wrong time to Cabbage patch. Good stuff.
As we go into this it looks like we can get a potential 30 minute match here, which under some circumstances might not be the best idea, but DAVE is ON, tonight.
Anyway, Batista dominates early, and scores with a huge press slam that looked awkward, if only because it looked to be an unassisted legit dead lift. Damn impressive though. From there, HHH gets the advantage, and distracts the referee so Flair can choke Dave with his jacket (Flair does this a couple of times). It's at this point I suddenly remember HHH's speech recently, where he gave a speech equating himself as Batista's father. I then marveled at how it was in fact scientifically possible that an infant had the ability to father Batista in the late 1960's. But more so than that, I would be lying if I said the whole speech didn't remind me of Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker. I guess we'll know how far Triple H has really taken things if by night's end he presses Flair over his head and dumps him into the arena's reactor. (and what reputable arena doesn't have one of those? ;)).
[Sean's note from 2007: This whole dumb-assed joke above was actually the catalyst for en entire WWE/Star Wars satire two months later. And yes, this is my really awesome subtle way of plugging it again...].
Anyway, both men eventually spill to the floor, and HHH attempts to pedigree Batista on the steps, but DAVE counters that into a slingshot, and HHH careens into the post and does some serious color. Man, JBL may be a wrestling God, but HHH is willing to die for our sins here. Back inside, Dave MURDERS HHH with a huge clothesline in the corner then follows through with a big powerslam for two. Both men spill back outside, and HHH tries to use a chair, but the referee blocks the attempt. Back inside, Flair charges DAVE with the title in hand but gets squashed with a spinebuster. HHH however recovers the belt and clocks DAVE with it for a nearfall. Hunter then gets scooped up into a spinebuster and Batista attempts the finishing Demon-bomb but that’s countered by a low blow, which Dave, unlike every other wrestler lately, sells like he was ACTUALLY HIT ION THE FUCKING BALLS. (seriously, that shit hurts, and kudos to Dave for finally selling it like the tragedy it is…). Triple H then goes for the pedigree, but DAVE, blocks, pries his hands free from the underhook, scoops up Hunter and squashes him with a version of the Kryptonite Krunch. Dave then FINALLY finishes with the Batista-bomb, 1,2,3. New Champion. Good match with a perfect CLEAN finish. Dance, Batista, by God, Dance, you magnificent bastard.
Winner and NEW Champion: DAVE. Today the World title. Tomorrow Soul Train.
Final Thoughts: Hey, I know I’m an asshole, but seriously, I have to give a Thumbs Up to this pay-per-view. There were a few black marks, but overall, one classic, one great spot-fest, and a couple of solid wrestling matches are enough to put it over the top for me. However, one thing that became ABUNDANTLY clear to me is this: The brand extension is a failure. The WWE championship is worthless. There needs to be ONE world champion, because every year, one belt gets the shaft worse than a date with Mike Tyson. Time to amalgamate the belts. It makes the main-event mean more. And I'll only have to recapone fucking title per show. That's my real reason. I'm selfish. Yup.
THE TWF "MENTAL WELLNESS TEST!"
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.).