Here’s Vince. Maybe he’s going to put an end to that nagging GM angle.

Vince McMahon: Hello, everyone. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but no, I’m not out here to put an end to that nagging GM angle. No, instead I’m here to continue an angle I inexplicably started  

Shawn Michaels v. Kane
In a No Superkicks, No Mirror Pants, No Prancing Match

Egh. Shawn had to break out his Referee Biker Shorts for this match. Shawn kips up. Then he and Kane kind of just stand there for a couple minutes. Shawn prays that he’ll be able to get through this match, but Jesus has a hundred bucks riding on Georgia, dammit, so he’s not about to shine his countenance down upon no wrestling matches. Unless it’s a lingerie pillow fight. He’s all over that. Shawn blocks the choke slam by not being in the ring when Kane goes for it, so Vince calls for some….

(ads)

When we come back, Kane and Shawn Michaels are playing badminton. More of life’s problems should be solved by badminton. Suddenly, Jim Cornette runs in through the crowd and nails HBK with a loaded Badminton racquet! Kane over for the pin! Kane wins! I say! That match was shuttlecock! After the match, Shawn whines that he’s done everything Vince McMahon ever asked him to, except for all that stuff he complained about, but Vince says that it’s just about time Shawn learns that jobbing to Triple H once a year doesn’t constitute “elevating new talent.” Somewhere, Hunter is like, “It doesn’t?!”

Todd Grisham then comes to the ring and tells Shawn that he’ll enter into the Elimidate Chamber first. That’s ok with Shawn though, because he’s married. Whysper probably game him a ton of flack for the LAST time he won an Elimidate chamber. I mean, there’s ring rats, and there’s getting laid on PPV. Don’t believe me? Ask Ric Flair.

Wait…is Todd Grisham the RAW GM?

(ads)

Hey, did you know the number one entrant has never won an Elimination Chamber? Omigosh in all three of them? NO WAY!

Here’s Suga Shane Helms, sans Nitro Girl Entrance, unfortunately. Sigh. Come back to me Diversity Five! And that, folks, is your annual Diversity Five Shoutout. I’m getting it out of the way early this year. Anyway, what the hell was I talking about? Why is Shane Helms on RAW?

Suga Shane Helms: What’s up biatches? Yeah, yeah. That’s right. Suga Shane and WWE in the place to be. But I hate to piss in your Snizzapple, but I heard somebody out here is tryin’ to playa hate on this! Who be tryin’ to playa hate? Is it you, Lawler?

Jerry Lawler: I don’t even know who the hell you are.

Helms: I’m da big dawg, playa! The Hurricane! Whazupwitdat?

Lawler: How could I be, erm…”Playa hatin’” on you? You’re never friggin’ on this show!

Helms: Oh yeah? Then who it that be tryin’ to hold mah shizzle down?

Lawler: Hell, I don’t know. Triple H probably.

Helms: Fool, don’t be dissin’ my boy. Besides, he’d never let me wrestle him on PPV.

Lawler: Well, then I’m not sure what you’re even doing out here. Shouldn’t you be…in TNA?

Helms: Hells no! I ain’t jobbin’ to no Jeff Jarrett no how!

Lawler: Are you desperate to get on the PPV?

Helms: Yes!

Lawler: Do you want to wrestle me?

Helms: Yes!

And so it was written, in the annals of history, that a match was to be made between Jerry “The King” Lawler and Shane Helms, on the flimsy excuse that “Neither guy was doing too much really, and we needed to waste some time…and The Boogeyman is on Smackdown.” So it is written. So shall it be done.

(ads)

Kurt Angle and Khosrow Daivari are back in the McOffice….

Vince McMahon: Pretty please? With cream and sugar on it?

Kurt Angle: No! I was already a miserable failure once as GM, why would I want to do that crap again?!

Vince: Because if you did then I wouldn’t have to bother doing this whole gimmick anymore?

Angle: Why not just have another Diva Search, and then have the winner be the new GM?

Vince: Hmm….

Angle: I shouldn’t have brought that up.

Khosrow Daivari: Now, Mr. McMahon abo….

Vince: Leyleyahleyleyahooooooooh! Sorry, I always wanted to do that.

Daivari: About why we asked to come in here….

Angle: Right, listen, I don’t get it, Vince. I’ve insulted the troops, I’ve claimed sexual relations with their mothers, I’ve got a manager…referee…thing who speaks Klingon….

Daivari: It’s Farsi.

Angle: Whatever, nerd. I don’t watch Star Wars. I put Dick Clark in the ankle lock and tried to make him read dialog from American Pie: Band Camp, what the hell do I have to do to be a heel, Vince? I’m trying my damndest but people,..people just don’t like John Cena.

Vince: Have you tried pulling things out of some guy’s ass?

Angle: ….

Vince: It’s just a thought….

Daivari: You could pull things out of my ass…you know…if you wanted.

Angle: What do you have up there? A Slurpee Machine?

Vince: Listen, have I told you guys about my zero tolerance policy regarding people whose careers I want to drive into the ground?

Angle: Yeah! I think it was hilarious how you showed up Shawn Michaels like that! You totally got him for not wanting to do what you told him to, boss.

Vince: I’m just saying, you might want to consider the ass doctor thing.

Angle: Uh….

Alexis Laree: Oh! Is everybody talking about anal?

Vince: Where the hell did you come from?!

Alexis: Slightly off camera?

Vince: Well what do you want?

Alexis: Anal?

Angle: That’s my cue to go.

Daivari: Aw man, I can’t believe I’m gonna miss this!

Alexis: I meant to say I wanted to talk about my match with Trish Stratus.

Vince: Do I look like I give a rat’s ass about what goes on in the women’s division?

Alexis: Can I be the GM of RAW?

Vince: Hell no. I don’t let porn stars book wrestling shows. I learned that the hard way when I let Taylor Rain book Great American Bash. I did like her suggestion that we change it to Great American Bush though. And we would have had the entrance be a giant….

Elsewhere….

Todd Grisham: Todd Grisham here and I’m standing by with Trish Stratus, and Trish, I can’t help but find it mildly disappointing when you’re jogging up the stairs there that your breasts stay perfectly still. What did they implant in there? Rocks? Are those boob shaped rocks?

Trish Stratus: Did you have any questions about my lesbian love affair with Alexis? Or our match at New Years Restitution?

Todd: Not really, no. I pretty much came over here to leer at your cleavage while you did basic exercises. This is better than watching ESPN at 5:00 a.m.

Trish: Go kill yourself, Todd.

Todd: Don’t mind if I do!

Todd Grisham impales himself on Trish’s rock boobs. Todd Grisham has fallen.

But what a way to go!

Trish: Alexis Laree! You’ve seen what my rock boobs have done to Todd Grisham! Now whatchu gonna do when me and these 34 Double Ds run wild on yoooooooou?!

(ads)

Maria Tennsyon Lund is in the ring forcing random people to make out with each other. She’s hosting her own Elimidate Chamber right here tonight! Maria, however, is taken aback when Victoria, Torrie Wilson, and Boobsie McTitsalot (w/ Chloe the RAW Satire…Dog…Thing) trot out. Surely they’re not out here for the make out sessions, are they? Well, maybe Boobsie is, but Victoria is here for a match!

Poor Victoria, two straight weeks against opponents with better hair than her. Victoria, by the way, is rocking a neck brace tonight due to the fact that Carlito…hell…I don’t know one move Carlito does, so I couldn’t fathom a guess. Maybe she choaked on part of the apple? Anyway, the story of the match is Maria is too dumb to know any wrestling moves, until she is inhabited by the spirit of CM Punk and hits Victoria with the Pepsi Plunge for the win. After the match, Ashley comes out and everybody takes off all their clothes. An inspired Vince McMahon stomps down to the ring and tells the ladies to save it for PPV for the first ever, “Girls Taking Off Their Clothes Palate Cleanser Match”. Man, I saw one of those last year on a house show!

It was easily the best part of the show. Hey, Funaki was there. How couldn’t it have been?!

(ads)

Trish Stratus is backstage taking a shower. I sure hope Dean Malenko isn’t watching in the corner. I respect that guy’s detective work too much. Oh, and I hope it’s not Sable either, for that matter. Oh, look, it’s Alexis Laree that’s stalking her.

Trish Stratus: Hi. Watching me take a shower? That’s hot.

Alexis Laree: Trish, from the time I first met you, I knew I wanted to grope your rock hard boobs. Will you give me this honor?

Trish: Sure. Why not. Just let me finish washing all the Grisham off.

Alexis: But know this! Sunday night, I will not be so kind. My groping then will not be in jest, but part of some insidious mind game!

Trish: Who the hell taught you match strategy?

Alexis: Raven.

Trish: That’s the best Dr. MENSA could come up with? Touching my boobs?

Alexis: There’s this whole other part of the plan. It involves a couple of chickens, a cotton gin, two pints of sour cream and a completed Medium level Sudoku puzzle.

Trish: Oh! I HATE those.

Alexis: Because you can’t solve them?

Trish: No! Because they’re stupid. Just like you. Now shut up.

Alexis: Can I still grope you?

Trish: Absolutely.

So she does. Now we take you to Edge’s performance as Ric Flair in “Road Rage: The Movie”.

Edge Flair: WOO! I’m Ric Flair!

Lita: Oh, Triple Naitch! You know what gets me off?

Flair: Is it Triple H?! WOO! Triple H gets me off! WOO! He’s a stylin’ and profilinlimoridingwheelinandadealinkissstealin’ WOO! Son of a GUN!

Lita: Buy me a $900,000 ring!

Flair: WOO! That’s why he’s the champ!

Lita: You know what’s really sad? I’ve been in the car with Ric, and this is pretty much exactly what it’s like.

Flair: WOO!

Lita: Actually this is exactly what it’s like.

Flair: I’m gonna run this car off the road!

Two cars slowly pull to a stop.

Local Indy Worker: Oh no. It’s Ric. Flair!

Lita: Please, Naitch! Don’t hurt ‘em!

Flair: No no no!

Edge Flair blades and begs off. Then Lita gets run over by a car.

Flair: WOO! Run over me? I’m already run over! Run over me?! I’m already run over!

Local Indy Worker: Can I have my free ham sandwich now?

Flair: WOO!

Ebert and Roeper give it Two Thumbs Up. The comedic Thrill Ride of the year raves Leonard Maltin. Back in the arena….

Edge: I don’t remember our acting being that terrible.

Lita: What the hell was I doing there anyway? We…we didn’t think this whole thing through.

Edge: Lord. At least I didn’t have to hump a corpse or pull things out of somebody’s ass.

Lita: Only when you get home sweetheart.

Edge: Yeah. Wait a minute! Which one?!

Lita: You’ll see.

Edge: Egh. Anyway. To add insult to injury, I’d just like to note that I’m the one who stole Ric’s wife away from him. And I also humped his daughter. Right in the face.

Lita: With me involved too the poor ref is going to catch every STD known to man.

Edge: That’s why we’re bringing in WWE Zombie Referee Tim White.

The Ric Flair charges the ring and puts Lillian Garcia in the Figure Four for no discernable reason.

Ric Flair: WOO!

(ads)

My Darling Stacy is a Reality Whore. She and I should go on Amazing Race!

Shelton Benjamin v. Iron Chef Wrestling Chris Masters
In a Chunky Soup Battle

Shinichiro Ohta: Fukui-san!

Kenji Fukui: Go ahead!

Ohta: This might be the week the Iron Chef “gets his heat back” one might say. The challenger is tough, but he hasn’t won a match in 754 consecutive attempts.

Dr. Yukio Hatori: I’ve got money on the challenger here. Chunky soup is his specialty, and not only that, I have it on good authority that there ain’t no stoppin’ him…NAH!

Fukui: I’m just shocked your bookie hasn’t broken your legs yet.

Hatori: No broken legs, but I have been stabbed 25 times!

Ohta: Fukui-san!

Fukui: Go ahead!

Ohta: The Iron Chef has made a hearty bean with bacon soup! The challenger is struggling with his clam chowder and…My god! The challenger’s soup is ruined! There’s a hair in his soup!

Shelton Benjamin: Man, this is ridiculous! I don’t even have any hair!

Fukui: Well, I guess that’s all from kitchen stadium this week. Congratulations to Iron Chef Chris Masters for getting back on his metaphorical cooking horse. Join us next week when we find out who will reign supreme!

Hatori: Oh no! Not my kidneys!

(ads)

John Cena and Ben Rothlesberger have a chat. Ben tells Cena to go long, and while Cena is running, Big Ben takes off.

Triple H is out and he looks ready for action. PROMO ACTION~!

Triple H: Happy New Year. My New Year isn’t so happy however, because I’ve got issues. You see, last week, in a desperate ploy to make my match seem like a main-event caliber contest that would make me be ok with missing yet another PPV main event, I went and broke Big Show’s hand last week. Can we roll a clip of that?

A clip of Bossman dragging Big Show’s casket around behind the Blues Brother Car shows.

HHH: Uh…no. Try that again.

A clip of the DX Express blowing up airs.

HHH: Uh…right. And Show, just like the DX Express, your career is OVER! Because I am The Game, Triple H, and I am THAT DAMN GOOD! And…you’re a big doodoo head. Man, I just can’t do this! You’re out there beating up Rey Misterio and I’m here beating up Ric Flair, and then you want to beat me up…that doesn’t make any sense! My feuds, among all others, are supposed to make sense, dammit! Oh, I’m not looking forward to this PPV at all.

Here’s The Big Show to provide a counter argument.

Big Show: I had this cannon ball grafted to my fist!

Show conks Hunter over the head with his cannon ball fist, and Triple H runs away. Show then decides to eat some monitors.

Kane: Dude…what about your diet?

Show: Is somebody cruising for a taste of the cannon ball fist?

Kane: Oh yeah? Take another step toward me, and I light Lillian Garcia on fire!

Show takes another step towards Kane, who proceeds to light Lillian Garcia ablaze. Show and Kane share a laugh and leave arm in arm.

(ads)

Shelton is backstage with…his momma.

Sharon Benjamin: I’m a mad black woman stereotype and I don’t appreciate how you’re being pushed, baby doll!

Shelton Benjamin: God? It’s me. Shelton. Please tell me this is Martin Lawrence in drag in a hilarious attempt to get people to go see Big Mama’s House 2!

Mama: EXCUSE ME!? I’m standin’ right here, Shelton. I’m Mrs. Benjamin.

Shelton: They should have hired Star Jones.

Mama: And how do you lose a chunky soup battle? What have I been teaching you all your life, young man?

Shelton: I just met you, like, five minutes ago.

The Voice of the Undertaker: Play along.

Shelton: She’s no Judy Bagwell, Taker.

Randy Orton: You’d best do as the Takerster says, or he’ll make Scary Coffins block your path!

Shelton: Ah hell. And just when I thought there wasn’t any stoppin’ me…NAH!

Mama: You know that ain’t true! Now get to steppin’! Go clean your room!

Shelton: Yes…mama.

(ads)

John Cena is here to treat us with some of his delightful “rap music”. Let’s watch! Er…Listen. Read. Do one of those things.

Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo YO! YO!

I’m Rockin’ this Mic
From here to Spain,
But Sunday Night,
I don’t need more Kane!

Carlito is cool,
He’s got really nice hair!
Too bad his only move,
Is a blank stare!

Chris Masters is awesome,
Iron Chef is the best!
Too bad he scored a five,
On his IQ Test!

Shawn Michaels is this guy,
Who prances about the ring,
The only main eventer worse,
Is the man they call Sting!

Kurt Angle is a heel people,
I’m supposed to be the face!
Matt Hocking and Stacy,
On the Tenth Amazing Race?

John Cena. Word Life,
Hot as Hell
I’m going to the Elimidate,
And Walkin’ out with a belle!

You can’t see me!
But you’d better get up and cheer,
Don’t you dare boo me,
Because THE CHAMP IS HERE!

The crowd boos anyway. Jerks.

(ads)

John Cena v. Kurt Angle (w/ Khosrow Daivari)
In a First Blood Match

Wasn’t this supposed to be a Daivari on a Pole match. Color me disappointed. Or burnt sienna or something. Anyway, the story of this match is both guys fumbling for chairs and Nerf Balls that take FOREVER to bust a guy open, when there’s probably some cheese graters or bowie knives or something under the ring if they weren’t too lazy to look. The crowd, it should be noted, is voraciously in favor of Daivari’s nifty suits, and thus barely watch the match. Not that I can blame them. Whose idea for a match was this anyway…wait a minute! Damn you, Matt Striker! Where’s his PPV match anyway? Matt Striker should be in the Elimidate Chamber. Anyway, Cena takes a break from the match to shave, and cuts himself open! Oh no! Angle wins! Way to expose the business, guys.

After the match, Carlito finally remembers that he’s friggin’ on this show, and he and Masters run out to the ring to try to get some face time before the Elimidate Chamber. Oh, you two…you’ll never get an Elimidate. Sensing the futility of his task, Masters begins basting Angle in a Split Pea Marinade. Kane’s seen just about enough of this nonsense, so he walks out to the ring, and choke slams everybody, including Daivari for good measure. Suddenly realizing that he can’t be the last man standing if he hopes to win any Elimidates, he prays for help, and God, who in his infinite wisdom has given up on Georgia, shines his countenance down upon the ring, and Shawn Michaels prances out to Superkick Kane. Before it can even register on Shawn what he hath wrought upon himself, John Cena stands up, blood literally trickling down his cheek, giving him a crimson stripe, and hits HBK with the F-U! Cena’s strength sapped, he falls to the ground. Orton Wins! Can Cena beat the odds in the Elimidate Chamber? Of course not!

Sunday Night: Triple H finds a way to win against all odds, by shooting Big Show’s hand out of a cannon in the general vicinity of Monkey Island. Edge and Ric Flair agree that they’re both pretty much the same guy, and so they both go bother Triple H. And Carlito uses the power of his afro to seduce the lovely lady and walk out of the Elimidate Chamber as the WWE Champion.

I spit in the face of people who don’t have a Happy New Year.

Ptooie!