Triple H: Man, every year we have this party, and every year it ends up sucking. Why even bother?
Kane: You’re just pissed that I burnt the au gratin potatoes.
HHH: I love those things, man. How could you do that to me?
“Dave” Batista “Davidson”: I like the gummy BEARS!

Batista turns the potluck table upside down and then leaves.

Big Show: Three second rule!

Last Week: Ric Flair went crazy, reminding fans why there are signs posted hat the first three rows MAY get drenched in an old man’s blood. JBL’s music made a touching guest appearance. And hey, Stone Cold Steve Austin really blew his chance to get with Stephanie. Who will get blown…TONIGHT?!

(Opening Credits)

Born in the fires of hell, and bound by the fetters of passion, the RAW Satire strives to achieve the unachievable. It stands at the precipice of greatness and reaches out to grasp the straws of victory away from the evil intonations of defeat.

Mike Tenay: The Satire is the inspiration for everything I do. Without the Satire I would be just another soulless skeleton.
Don West: I’ve known the RAW Satire for years. It raised my children. And you can own your very own RAW Satire for only 21 easy payments of 14.99, folks this is a once in a life ti-
Jeremy Borash: Everything I’ve ever written, I stole from the RAW Satire.
Gene Oakerlund: I’ve never understood the appeal of The RAW Satire. I mean, it’s rambling, incoherent, it can’t even hit its spots right. And while we’re on the subject, who the hell is Abe Orton anyway? I’ve never gotten that joke.
Bobby Heenan: Let me tell you something. One night, Andre was at a bar, and man, Andre liked to drink, let me tell you. So, anyway, some guy comes up with the Satire, and Andre punches them straight away in the balls. Andre…man…what a ribber.
Chris Tian: Ok, ok. Let me do an impression of the RAW Satire for you guys. Ok. Here we go. “Needs more Kane! Right, guys? Oh, Lance Storm is so boring, he’s like an action figure!” That was pretty much everything from 2002-2005. I have them all memorized. My favorite one was the one where Scott Steiner and Triple H played Scattergories.
Triple H: The RAW Satire? I have never, in my professional career, worked with something as unprofessional as the RAW Satire. Except for that series I had against myself. But we can’t talk about that seeing as how the future police made us retcon all that out of existence. In fact, you all probably don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Anyway, the RAW Satire doesn’t know anything about the main event style. I’m going to hold it down at any cost.
Chris Jericho: Aw come on, the RAW Satire isn’t that bad.
Jim Johnston: So, for The RAW Satire, I had to find some music that really fit the character, you know? I mean, something crazy, but also crazy powerful. Something that defies logic, but also time. And…wait. I thought we were talking about the Berzerker. What the hell is the RAW Satire?!
Vince McMahon: I’ll never forget the day I first saw the RAW Satire. I said to myself, “Vince, there’s the kind of heart and motivation and drive we need to get back to the top.” Then I sued the bastard for trademark infringement. Don’t cross the boss!

Ugh…I hope not. For your sake anyway. Happy Satireversary everybody! You can send me an e-card and a cash donation later. For now, let’s get to RAW!

This is a match for the ages, folks! Three faces in one ring at the same time! Actually, have we established that Kane’s back a s a face now? Wait…what am I saying? Of course he’s a face. This show needs more Kane. Show and Michaels team up to take Kane down to start, but Kane powers out because he’s JUST TOO AWESOME to be double teamed. Big Show’s forehead busts itself open in appreciation. Kane leaves the ring to reflect on his awesomeness, so Show throws Michaels at him. That wasn’t very nice.

(ads)

Kane goes to suplex Show, but Show is too fat. That’s why we need J.R. back. Not for his announcing, but to berate Show for being so goddamn fat. Failing this, Kane decides to go up top, and jumps, Shawn Michaels goes for the Superkick, and misses! Kane falls over anyway! Damn you, Randy Orton! Damn you straight to hell! Shawn recovers and hits Big Show with the Superkick instead. Shawn wins. Vote for him! Much prancing ensues.

John Cena drove around in circles for a few hours on some TV show. Sadly, it was Amazing Race. Cena family? You have been eliminated.

(ads)

Jerry Lawler has a mic. What’s wrong with his headset?

Jerry Lawler: I hate to be the one to point this out, but have you noticed that nobody is really actually missing J.R. here? I mean, Coach is the announcer, and I bet if we didn’t bring it up every fifteen seconds, that Coach is the announcer and not Jim Ross, you wouldn’t even notice. So I’m here on the mic to remind you to miss J.R. Thanks.

Jonathan Coachman: I’m going to go miss J.R. in the ring!

(ads)

Coach has made it to the ring! Good for him!

Coach: Did you know that recently, the WWE changed announcers, and that I am now in the position formerly occupied by Jim Ross? Yes, this is the first I’ve heard of that too! I thought for sure Tony Schiavone had it locked down after last week. Also, apparently, I’m feuding with Steve Austin. I guess this is so that Austin can get into the proper ring shape for wrestling Hulk Hogan by going one on one with an announcer. I would note the great series of matches I had against Tajiri, here but, well…you know. But I would like to take the time to invite Stone Cold Steve Austin to the ring right now!

Sure enough, Austin’s truck is racing around backstage. At least it’s going somewhere, eh, Cena? Wait a second! There’s a ramp tonight! NOOOOO! He’s going to crash!! Oh. He stopped short. And he’s not even a he at all. In fact, it’s Stone Cold Stephanie McMahon who steps out, pouring beer all over her boobs. I wonder if she kept a spare set of keys from the Alliance or something. Talk about regifting. Sheesh.

Stephanie McMahon: Does every camera have a good shot of my boobs? Because I can move, I’m flexible like that. So, here’s the thing. I guess J.R. had a big chunk of his colon taken out, and WWE doctors are hard at work trying to clone that into another announcer, so we don’t have to deal with Todd Grisham as our A-Team in a few years.

On hearing this, a relieved Todd Grisham shoots himself. Todd Grisham has perished.

Stephanie: Unfortunately, the best that WWE Chief Physician The Boogeyman has come up with is a giant walking, talking colon. While that might be infinitely preferable to Todd or Coach here, our studies show that belching up crap all the time doesn’t sit well with our live audience. So, I guess all I’m out here to do is show off my boobs.

Here’s Mick Foley for…closer examination? Coach leaves. I guess he got bored.

Mick Foley: Remember the McMahon-Helmsley era, where we blew up a bus?! What the hell ever happened to those days? I mean, I love you and your dad and everything, but you guys have gone completely bonkers. More bonkers than any of the characters in my book Scooter which you can purchase at many of the fine retailers right here in Fresno, California!
Stephanie: Actually, Mick, I don’t think they do a whole lot of reading here in Fresno. And exactly what do you think you’re doing insulting my family? Without the WWE, you’d still be nothing but a glorified stuntman!
Foley: Why do you think I tried to sign with TNA?
Stephanie: Maybe they would have let you do your Captain Jack Foley gimmick.
Foley: Yar.
Stephanie: Hey, I’ve got an idea! Let’s bring out Carlito!

Here’s Carlito!

Carlito Caribbean Cool: I feel like my beloved homeland was just ravaged by one of the Flinstones.
Stephanie: Never mind that. I’m going to kick Mick Foley in the balls.

And she does. Right in the old balls. Carlito does a spit take into Foley’s face. Probably the best segment of Coach’s fine career. While Foley is down, Stephanie and Carlito dance awkwardly while the cameras scramble to get the best shot of Steph’s boobs.

(ads)

Back in the training room, WWE Chief Physician Boogeyman works on Foley.

Eric Bischoff: You’ve been kicked in the balls hundreds of times, Mick. I don’t see why one would stop you.
Mick Foley: She was wearing really pointy shoes. Do you want me to put on some pointy shoes and kick you in the balls so you can see how it feels?!
Bischoff: Er…how much do you…charge for that?
Foley: Huh?! It’d be free, I guess. You’d learn a lesson about being kicked in the balls though.
Bischoff: I’ll take two then. Meet me out in the parking lot after the show. Don’t let me down.
WWE Chief Physician The Boogeyman: Amanamanamana! I am the terror that flaps in the night! Everyone fears the…BOOGEYMAN!
Foley: I miss Papa Shango.
Bischoff: Yeah. Me too.
Colon Ross: I’m an abomination of nature by GAWD!

Oh man, it’s a dream match! Two former Kings of the Ring, duking it out to determine which of them is superior in the squared circle. If only King Haku were alive to see this today. Too bad that bastard Meng had to kill him. Damn you, Meng! Oh, but what is this? Ric Flair jumps out from under the ring and attacks Hunter! They trade some punches before they’re separated by WWE RAW Referees, Flair gets the mic.

Ric Flair: WOO! I want you fans to go on WWE.com and vote WOO vote to let me take Triple By GOD H’s wife for a ride on Space Mountain, fat boys! WOO! That’s the kind of match I want!

Sure. Don’t leave the voting up to chance or anything. Dammit, and I was going to vote for the Yappappi Indian Strap match too. Sigh.

Outside the arena, JBL’s limo pulls up, and JBL hops out. Dammit, I was really hoping this week’s invader would be Vito or Stevie Richards. Man, could you imagine if a limo pulled up and it had Vito’s symbol on it? RAW would know it was in for some trouble then, that’s for sure. Now? They’re in for a promo! Look out!

(ads)

Bischoff is outside with JBL….

Eric Bischoff: That’s the best we could do? Bradshaw?
John Bradshaw Leyfield: I’ll have you know that at one point in time, I was a main eventer.
Bischoff: I don’t care if you main evented a bunch of crappy Smackdown pay per views, get the hell out of here.
JBL: Look, I brought some steaks for the pot luck. I’m really just here for the food. I don’t want to cause any trouble.
Bischoff: Ok. But I’m only letting you stay because of the food. And…I love your theme music. MOOO!
JBL: Heh heh. Yeah. Moo!

Meanwhile, Edge, Lita, and Iron Chef Wrestling, Chris Masters are in the ring.

Iron Chef Wrestling, Chris Masters: I really do hate parties like this. Everybody expects me to cook.
Lita: Well, I mean, you are our Iron Chef. Represent!
Edge: Why are we in the ring discussing this?
JBL (Live Via TitonTron!): Actually, I think you are all supposed to be addressing me. But what did I expect coming from the salad girl, his boy slut face, and uh…that other guy with the receding hairline who talks funny.
Masters: Oh, man! Did you hear what they said about your hair, Edge?!
Edge: I’ll have you know, Mr. Lamefield-
Lita: Oooh! Tag!
Edge: That I am a doctor of Hairology, and my research indicates that my hair is ceding just fine, thank you very much.
Masters: I have a great idea! Let’s make fun of potential Smackdown superstars that might appear on Taboo Tuesday!
Edge: What are you talking about? That’s a terrible idea!
Masters: Look, this is better than just listing them out, ok?
Edge: Fine. Let’s see…we’ve got…uh…Matt Hardy. Oh wonderful. I know! Let’s book a Matt Hardy v. Edge match. I’m sure nobody’s ever seen that a hundred billion times. The worst part is, you know he’s going to win because all those fat goth chicks will vote for him. And if Big Pimpin’ Alex isn’t already at work writing a script to run up the voting, then you can call me Cap’n Mookie.
Lita: I know! Just when I thought I got rid of him!
Masters: Next up is Rey Misterio, and I’ll be damned if he isn’t the cutest wittle thing I’ve seen all WEEK! I mean I had to give him a hug on Smackdown. Just had to. He may only be two feet tall, but those two feet are filled with love, my friends.
Edge: Also on the ballot is…Chris Tian? Is that some kind of joke? Look, I’d love to work with Chris again, sure. But he isn’t going to win. And without the Voice of the Undertaker around anymore, I’m not even sure if we’re brothers anymore or not. Am I still Edge Tian?
Lita: I like to pretend you’re still brothers. It’s sexier for me that way.
Edge: Huh?
Masters: Hardcore Holly. Uh…he’s pretty much the closest thing Smackdown has to me. Except that he can’t really cook. So he’s nothing at all like me. Man, that guy still gets a pop though. I think he must have a reserve of good will built up for the Sparky Plugg gimmick or something.
JBL: Gee, I wonder who you have left.
Edge: Maybe it’ll be Ken Kennedy.
Lita: Kennedy?
JBL: No! It’s me, you moron! Now, if we’re done here, I’ve got to go cook these steaks!
Masters: No! They need to be marinated first!

While Masters is running backstage to stop JBL’s poor steak cookery, Rey Misterio jumps out of the crowd and kicks Lita in the head. Then he runs off back into the crowd.

Edge: Dammit! Be more careful next time! You almost scuffed up my briefcase!

(ads)

This is Alexis’ first singles match in the WWE. Honestly, what would you do without me providing expert commentary like that? Of all the choices for costumes for the Divas at Taboo Tuesday, my favorite is Slutty Denny’s Waitress. God knows this is the Internet though, so Furries is sure to win. I don’t know. I guess I could dig Torrie in an otter costume. Sure would beat the time I got really wasted and made out with a bear. That’s for sure. Finish comes when the girls on the outside kick Alexis and Victoria around for a while, and Alexis winds up on top. Alexis wins! My faith in the women’s division is…the same as it always has been!

(ads)

Vince McMahon is out in the ring. Maybe he’ll wish me a happy Satireversary. It’s the least he can do after suing my ass.

Vince McMahon: I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not out here to talk about the forth anniversary Satireversary. No, this is more important dammit! I’m here to talk about J.R. being fired. Yeah, I don’t know if you heard this, but we fired J.R.! We’re currently trying to clone a copy from him out of his colon, but it’s met with…mixed results. So to make up for not having a readily prepared colonic replacement, I decided to celebrate the Satire with this hilarious video!

Four years ago, I started the Satire based on the Katie Vick video. It is my pleasure and honor to now present to you: Vince McMahon in Dr. Asscheek’s Anal Adventures.

Dr. Asscheek: Hello, and how is my patient doing this evening?
Dr. Powell: I think it’s a mannequin.
Triple H: Uh…shall I rape it then? I’ve got my Kane mask in the car.
Ric Flair: Always prepared! That’s why you’re the champ!
HHH: Aren’t we supposed to be feuding?
Nurse Tizzy Gash: Oh, my, Mr. McMahon, I do believe I spilled all this blood plasma all over my cleavage.
Asscheek: Uh…my name is Dr. Asscheek. And that’s gross. But sexy.
Powell: Look at what I found in his ass, Mr. McMahon! It’s a…foot?
Scott Hall: Hey, yo. I’ll take that. Awesome! Our monster is almost complete!
Asscheek: What else can I find in here? Ah-ha! It’s…an XFL football! There ain’t no anal packing jokes in the XFL folks!
Triple H: Maybe if you dig far enough, you can find J.R.’s sense of dignity.
Powell: Wow! Look at this! The Complete Barry White on 8-Track! Why would you store that in your ass?
Nurse Gash: So that you always have it on you, silly.
Asscheek: Let’s see here, European Title, Best of Steve Williams comp tape, here’s a…uh…baby carriage full of pictures of Sean Stasiak?!
Stacy Keibler: That’s where I put those!
Asscheek: Man, I can see all the way to China in here!
Triple H: Well, I’m out.
Powell: Woah! I found Max Mini in here!
Asscheek: What is he doing in there? Get over to Smackdown right this instant!
Max Mini: Soo….Cold….
WWE Chief Physician The Boogeyman: I’m sorry, I’m finding it a little hard to believe all this stuff was crammed into this one man’s colon. I was with you right up until the midget, but now? Come on guys.
Powell: Wait until he pulls the car out of there.
Asscheek: It’s the STONE COLD MONSTER TRUCK!
The Boogeyman: Ok, this is beyond ridiculous.
Scott Hall: Actually, it’s entirely plausible if we’re working on the theory that Jim Ross possibly had a pocket universe contained within his ass. The science supports it.
Powell: Uh…?
Hall: DOWN THERE!
Nurse Gash: Look what I found! Aztec gold!
Asscheek: What?
Orderly Sean Cold Val Venis: What?
Surgeon Stone Cold Steve Austin: What?

Austin nails Tizzy Gash with a bedpan.

Austin: Ah! Back in my element!
Asscheek: I’m not even sure what we just accomplished here.
Shane Helms: Yeah, well, that’s what you get for stealing my gimmick from FOUR YEARS AGO! I DID THIS EXACT SAME SEGMENT WITH TRIPLE H FOUR YEARS AGO!
Brian Gewirtz: Well…it’s been a busy week.
Kevin Nash: Can you guys keep it down? I’m trying to sleep over here. As if it weren’t bad enough that friggin’ Red Rooster keeps waking me up and asking me if I want to job to Jarrett yet.

Everyone clears out. After a few seconds, Triple H comes back in and humps the mannequin. Just in case. Back in the ring.

Vince McMahon: So…uh…as you can see…I uh…Yeah.

(ads)

Suga Rosey v. Lance Cade and Trevor Murdoch
For the WWE World Tag Team Titles

If Rosey can’t win with Hurricane, maybe he can do it without him! That’s the spirit, Rosey! Cade looks pretty pissed off. I would be too if I just lost the NWA World Title to friggin’ Rhino of all people. I mean, what kind of jobber does that make you, eh, Cade? At least he and Goldust here are still the WWE World Tag Team Champions. That is unless Rosey has something to say about it. He doesn’t, by the way. As the match draws to a close, Suga Shane Helms comes out to the ramp, sets down a green circle and proceeds to dance the hell out of RAW. Rosey loses, but who cares.

(ads)

Kurt Angle v. John Cena
Not for the WWE Title, but Hey, Here’s Mick Foley

Mick Foley is the guest referee, y’alls. I always love it when Mick guest refs, because his shirt was obviously meticulously made, but it still comes off as half assing it. It really is quite fantastic. Cena takes control early on using his patented “don’t let the other guy do anything at all offense,” but Kurt isn’t having any of that nonsense. This year, for Halloween, I’m going as John Cena. Then I’m going to tell the little kids, “You can’t see me!” and hit them in the face and steal all their candy. I’m sure they’ll love it. It’s kind of like the time I went as Sting and jumped off my roof tied to a rope and brained kids with a baseball bat. Or the year I went as Konnan and drank tequila.

(ads)

Carlito comes out and apologizes to Mick for spitting in his face earlier. Mick accepts his apology and they leave to talk about their feelings over a nice warm cocoa. Uh…What about the match? Oh, never mind. Here’s WWE RAW Referee Eric Bischoff to the rescue. I changed my mind. I’m going as Matt Hardy this year. Then I’ll just whine and complain to everybody who comes to the house that my best friend stole my candy, so now I don’t have any candy or any job, and so I’m going to make my own candy out of flower and eggs to show them that I don’t need any stupid candy. Then they’ll all feel sorry for me and give me their candy. Hell, no arrests this year! Bischoff waves Cena’s hand around, and I guess that’s close enough to a tapout for everybody. Angle wins, now let’s get to the damn potluck. Hopefully Show didn’t eat EVERYTHING once it hit the floor.

Next Week: In a very special Halloween RAW, Kane choke slams zombies. Also, Eugene spends the entire episode in the parking lot waiting for the Great Sasuke to show up. Plus, the WWE signs La Parka and Halloween for one night so that they can job to Triple H.

Next week, try to get more candy than Rey Misterio!

Excerpts from the Casefiles of Dean Malenko
Chapter Eleven

Molly Holly was waiting for me there. A sweet smile on her face, she waved to me.

I nodded back. She didn’t look like the murderous type to me. Why would she have killed the man who would be her leader. I wanted desperately to understand her, but she was hiding it all too well. I’d been fooled like a rookie, a stupid dog chasing an imaginary ball that lay right here in the owner’s hand all along. It had taken me this long just to come back looking for it. I didn’t deserve to solve this case. To get with my darling Lita. But one thing Dean Malenko isn’t, is a quitter. I was going to figure Ms. Holly out, if she liked it or not.

“So, how goes the search Mr. Malenko?”

“Why’d you do it, Molly?” I was terse. Direct. There’s no sense hiding anymore.

“Why, whatever do you mean?” She didn’t deny it. Her face wasn’t surprised at the accusation.

“You killed Jeff Hardy. And then you turned around and hired me to investigate you. Why?”

She sighed. A deep sigh, like Atlas had taken the weight of the world from her shoulders.

“Do you realize what a zoo it was over there? I could hardly stand to live in that godforsaken place anymore, and it go worse with the whole church of Imagi and OMEGA thing.”

“So, why not just leave?”

“Because I was in love.”

“With Jeff Hardy?”

“No, no. It was more complicated than that. With the idea of Jeff Hardy. A rebel poet. A lunatic with a soul. It drove me nuts, because I hated the guy and everything he stood for, but the fact is, I couldn’t leave because I was just…drawn in.”

It made sense in a sick and twisted sort of way. Hate masking her love, love masking her hate. The only way to escape the paradox was to cut off the source. It was like some kind of really terribly written slasher rip-off of a Shakespeare tragedy.

“Look, there’s a really great explanation of the whole thing on my DVD. Chapter 23, ‘Why I Killed Jeff Hardy.’ So are you going to take me in?”

“I’m afraid I have to, ma’am. If nobody else stands up for justice, then I must.”

“It’s why I hired you, Dean. Loyal to your principals to the end. I‘d only wished you were stupider. I figured you‘d go after Kane before you went after me..”

“Will you be coming peacefully then?”

A strike across my head provided a quick answer to that. The girl threw a mean slap, but I am Dean Malenko. The master of 1000 holds. The Ice Man. There is no man or woman I cannot beat down like a vise squashing a grape. There would be blood, and it wouldn’t be mine.

Her second blow came at my chest, and I grabbed her swinging arm, a quick motion brought my palm to her shoulder, dislocating it, leaving her arm flapping in the evening breeze like a flag at half mast, mourning a lost love. Molly screeched at me, primal, trying to make me fight for justice, and that was a fight I was willing to take.

I caught her other arm under mine, and then, in a move I learned from Chris Benoit, I slammed my forehead into her face. Once, twice, three times. I felt a satisfying crunch of bone on bone. She was down. I quickly moved in and locked on the Texas Cloverleaf. Before long, she had tapped out. I left her in a heap. The police dealt with riff raff. I only created it for them. The night was suddenly very cool. Pleasant. Like a cold shower on a hot day, it was jarring and refreshing. I may never get to see my darling Lita again. I don’t know. But for this moment, I only service one lady. Justice. And she is a beautiful mistress.

Elsewhere….

Jeff Hardy: I like the cheese puffs. They’re way 2Xtreme.
Edge: Wait, aren’t you supposed to be dead? I thought that was what this whole thing was all about?
Jeff Hardy: No, no. Every great poet must die young or fake it. I faked it. I’m like the white Tupac.
Big Show: Malenko is gonna be pissed!
Lita: Not as pissed as he’ll be when he finds out I totally would have done him.
Edge: Hey!
Lita: You’re no Dean Malenko, dear.
Triple H: All I’m saying is that next year, instead of a potluck, we get catering. Look at all these lazy ass casseroles and jellos. Ridiculous.
Shelton Benjamin: Ain’t no stoppin’ Jello…NAH!
HHH: Man, shut up.

Maria Tennyson Lund jumps out of the Satireversary cake.

Maria Tennyson Lund: HAPPY NEW YEAR!