No numbers this week, but I do have some bullet points.
– We didn’t get to our 200 comments goal for last week, but thank you to everyone who reads these every week and takes the time to comment. I really appreciate it, and the Voice Of The Voiceless is an important part of what makes these columns worth reading. I can’t form a decent opinion without weighing it against the opinions of my peers. I think that’s constructive, and the last thing I want to be with a wrestling column is deconstructive. So drop a comment, share this on your Facebook, Tweet about it, send Kaitlyn a sternly worded e-mail about how she has rational, normal fans who don’t want to take her to Heaven, they just want to talk about wrestling, and possibly bodybuilding.
– If you don’t want to click through the pages, here’s the short version: Triple H
– I think the podcast is going to get started in the next couple of weeks, so if you’ve got any pro wrestling connections or are a literate, wonderful pro wrestling personality yourself (Kyle Durden, I’m looking in your direction) contact me via e-mail or over Twitter and let’s start setting up some appearances. Finally, a wrestling podcast! Why didn’t anyone else ever think of that?
Worst: Triple H Is Great And Way More Important Than Anything Else Going On
I think Triple H’s five minute announcement that Triple H will be the special guest referee for the WWE title unification match at Summerslam might be the worst “Worst” I’ve ever handed out in one of these things. Worse than Keith Stone sexually harassing the Bella Twins into hiding. Worse than the Kofi Kingston and Dolph Ziggler Best 173 out of 345 Falls Match they ran on Raw between March of 2009 and June 2011. It’s just really, really bad.
Criticizing the top guy’s big decision is getting harder and harder to do, because of how many people jump on Twitter the second it happens to spread their mangled, misinformed “it’s all about the LAME #raw #smartmark” and because of how quick WWE has been to throw that sh*t on TV. Seriously, we live in a weird golden age of social media where I can call Triple H a cuntrifle and three weeks from now we’ll see big CUNTRIFLE signs in the audience. By Survivor Series John Morrison has a “CUNTRIFLE” t-shirt and is getting over with the fans because he’s the first one to call Triple H that to his face. Okay, some of that his hyperbole. John Morrison isn’t going to get over, but you see what I’m saying.
See? Even I’m using “get over” as a way to express an idea, as if I have any connection to the wrestling industry whatsoever. The biggest connections I’ve made are finding out Derrick Bateman laughs at what I write on the Internet and the time I bought Rachel Summerlyn two seasons of “Boy Meets World” on DVD for her birthday. I’m not a part of the business I love, and I think my realization of that makes me typing “Triple H needs to get away from my goddamn television screen” really mean something. I don’t care if you put The Undertaker or Prince Fergal Devitt in that spot, just get King Fat Suit out of C.O.O. and into something with blades that spins.
Worst: Triple H Is Art
Worst: Jack Swagger Is Maybe The Least Intimidating Person Of All Time
I think that’s his major malfunction. I make fun of the way he talks a lot (he’s saying “your shoes will slip in the juice”), but he could be the facially-incompetent love child of Lou Ferrigno and two pounds of crackers and I’d still buy him as a pro wrestler if he had even an average adult man’s ability to intimidate. In story or out, nobody should be afraid of Jack Swagger. He’s going to amateur wrestle you to death! No, he’s not going to put you in submission holds like Daniel Bryan, the only one he really knows could be applied by a chimp or a happy dog and is the least painful looking and easiest to counter finishing hold in wrestling history. No, he’s just going to pick you up by the waist and lower you to the ground, then hold out his arms and run around in a circle. Christ, somebody teach Jack Swagger how to throw a Jerry Lawler punch or attack him with a sword so he can have some scars, I don’t know. Anything to stop him from being the 6-foot-13 guy who knows an eagle and loses to The Leaping Twink on the reg.
Man, Cena really squashed him, didn’t he? It reminded me a little of those Magnum T.A. matches where the referee would be checking him for international objects before the match and some jobber would try to give him the bum’s rush, so Magnum would just grab the guy, belly-to-belly and pin him, then spend the next five minutes telling Bob Caudle how hard he’s gonna garrote Tully Blanchard. Cena didn’t even have to duck the post-shoulderblocks punch, he just crouched there and Swagger swung over him. That sucks. Does it count as “mailing it in” if you’re too lazy to find an envelope?
Worst: That’s Enough, Twix Commercial
Raw averages about seven commercial breaks per hour, meaning we get this 15 seconds of Twix commercial approximately 14 times a night. It doesn’t even make sense. The cops have had a long night, so they hit a pause button in their car (?), causing the dispatcher to announce a Twix Break in progress, so the cops say “let’s do it” and start rocking out to the Mannequin soundtrack. The fact that they’re cops or eating Twix has nothing to do with the song, and the song starts in the middle, right before the chorus. AND I HAVE TO WATCH IT 14 TIMES EVERY WEEK.