Vince McMahon: Apparently, Congress doesn’t want me to come out here tonight, but I am anyway. Take that Congress and the Media! I’m Vince McMahon, dammit! I do whatever the hell I want! Including find reasons to get rid of the warehouse full of “Who’s Your Daddy” T-Shirts we had printed up for Eddie Guerrero. See, now this is why I’m a superior businessman. Now, none of the women I’ve had sex with over the years will tell me if they have had any kids. They all hang up on me. Even Linda. So I don’t honestly know if I have any kids, but I’m committed to figuring it out. I even bought a little Sherlock Holmes hat and everything. So now to figure-

Stephanie McMahon: DAAAAAAD! I’m your kid! What about me?

Vince: I’ve just got my fingers crossed that it isn’t Aurora Borealis, sweetie.

Stephanie: It isn’t, thank God. I don’t know if I could stand having my daughter pretend to kill herself. Anyway, no! I found out that your mystery baby is actually right here, ON THIS VERY ROSTER!!!

Vince McMahon: Why that’s almost too odd to believe! Why, I would say it was impossible if I hadn’t met our writing staff! Who could be my son? Is it Ken Kennedy? Is it Viscera? Maybe Charlie Haas?

Mark Henry: I hope it’s me! You can’t fire me anyway! Bwahahahahaha!

Vince: Honestly, I’ve got all my money riding on Dominic Guerrero-Misterio who we just signed to be part of our Juniors division.

Super Porky: I am Super! I am Porky! I am Super Porky!

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Bobby Lashley is broken. His music video isn’t as nice as Triple H’s. RACISM AND CONSPIRACY~!

Ken Kennedy: I hope I’m not Vince McMahon’s baby!

I wonder if Kennedy looks across the ring at Sandman and sees himself in ten years. And despairs. It would be awesome if Sandman was revealed as Kennedy’s real father in a paternity test. They could re-sign Raven and have him steal Kennedy away! And it was all a SHOCKING SWERVE~! because Sandman and Raven are actually Vince McMahon’s twin sons! And everybody has sex with Kimona Wanalea. Except Tommy Dreamer. Poor Tommy. Kennedy wins with a Jumping Body Slam.

Kennedy: Baby!

Backstage…

Jonathan Coachman: Ok, Vince, what age were you when you started having sex? Let’s narrow this down.

Vince McMahon: Five.

Coach: I mean actual se-

Vince: GENETIC JACKHAMMER!

Coach: This isn’t helping.

Vince: Why are talking to me anyway? I thought you weren’t my sexretary anymore.

Coach: You don’t have any friends anymore, Vince.

Vince: Oh…Ok. Why don’t we just DNA test everybody? We’ll do it under the guise of wellness tests. That’ll probably work.

Coach: We’ve got to drag this out for a couple more weeks, Vince. Big picture. Let’s play process of elimination first.

Vince: Ok, I know it can’t be anyone as old as me.

Ric Flair: WOO! That’s why you’re my dad!

Vince: Ric Flair?! I…What if my son was the man that almost help put me out of business? SHOCKING SWERVE~!

Flair: I’m going to take your old lady for a ride on SPACE MOUNTAIN FAT BOY! WOOOO!

Vince: You mean your step-mom?

Flair: I…Uh…I mean…Woo?

And Flair flops. Orton wins!

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Backstage….

William Regal: I can’t wait for Wrestling Idol! We’ll have K-Kwick, Road Dogg…Um…Raven?

Raven: Did you ever know that you’re my heeeeeeeero?

Alexis Laree: Raven!!!

Raven: Who the hell are you?

John Bradshaw Leyfield: Ok, Michael, are you ready? We’re going to be the biggest thing since Hall and Oates.

Regal: This isn’t a duet show, but I really have to see where this is going….

In Orlando….

Scott Hall: Hey, Kev, when did you work the Oates gimmick?

Kevin Nash: What? Oates? What the hell is an Oates?

Hall: I dunno, man. These two guys said they were going to steal our gimmick though.

Nash: Are you sure they didn’t say Oz? Wait, I remember! I worked the Oates gimmick down there for a couple years.

Hall: Down where?

Nash: DOWN THERE!

Hall and Nash cheer while Kurt Angle sulks in the corner. Back at MSG….

Regal: I can’t wait any longer. Sing!

Ooooh, Here she comes!
Watch out boy,
She’ll chew you-

Michael, what the hell are you wearing?

Cole: A belly shirt. We’re doing the Nelly Furtado version, right?

JBL: What? No. No!

Cole: One more win, for the good guys!

Regal: That was brilliant.

Maria (nee Punk Tennyson Lund Caribbean Cool): I could neep both of you right this second! Even Oates!

Santino Marella: If-a you like-a that, wait-a until you-a see my-a impersonation of-a Dave Matthews-a!

Maria: That sounds uninspiring!

Regal: Oh! Sing “Ants Marching!”

Marella: And-a you! Faarooqq-aa! You can’t-a steal my-a girl!

Maria: Sure he can!

JBL: Hey! Ron! Long time no see old buddy! Not since I got you fired that one time. Haha…remember that? Anywhoozle, I was just wondering what your favorite 80s band is.

Cole: Wham, right? Right?

Ron Simmons: I was actually big into Air Supply back then. I loved their melodious tunes.

Cole: Heh. WHAM!

Hey, it’s Cryme Tyme! What are they doing out here?

Shad Gaspard: I know what you’re all thinking! “What are they doing out here?” Well, WWE just thought they should give us some TV time because we’re from Brooklyn, Brooklyn! Yeah Yeah!

JTG: So what should we do with all this sudden TV time we’ve got, Shad?

Shad: Did somebody say “Auction some crap?”

JTG: Umm…No?

Shad: Well that’s what we’re doing!! Lillian! Get up off the chair! Who wants a chair with Lillian’s sweaty ass marks on it? I know Rick Scaia ain’t in the building so you all have a chance!

JTG: Do I hear 37 cents for Lillian’s sweaty ass mark on a chair? We’ll even have her sign it for you.

Shad: Lil’ Bow Wow, you want to buy Lillian’s ass marks?

Lil’ Bow Wow: HOOTY HOO!

JTG: Word.

Creepy White Guy: $90,000! I must add it to my Diva Sweat Marks Collection!

Shad: Scott Keith?!

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Cryme Tyme vs. Lance Cade and Trevor Murdoch
For the WWE World Tag Team Titles

So that jobbers match last week was for the number one contenderships? I knew I should’ve been pulling hard for the jobbers. I wonder how Trevor is going to pull off having to work the old Goldust gimmick again while still doing this one. It’s hard out here for a pimp, Trevor. Back and forth action for a while, with JTG finally getting control over Cade with a jumping ass to the face. Cade and Murdoch finally get sick of the match and double team JTG, so Shad grabs the chair and whacks Murdoch with it for the DQ. Aww…He smeared the ass imprint. Scott Keith is going to be soooo mad.

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The blood is in the corridor, Triple H. Man, don’t you hate that when women in the same house cycle together.

What?

Oh, come on, you were thinking the same thing.

Robbie and Rory sit around before the bell and reminisce about back when they were relevant. Ok, guys, I hate to burst your bubbles, but I don’t care if you are Immortal. You were never relevant. Anyway, Robbie gets kicked in the head, and that’s it. The Abe Orton continues to frighten and confuse me. After the match, he picks up Rory and tosses him through the roof. Abe yells, “HUH?!” and the New York crowd collectively shrugs. When you’ve seen one bald guy with acne and bad teeth in New York City, you’ve seen them all. Sorry, Abe.

Backstage….

Jonathan Coachman: Ok, so all we need to do is figure out the names of all the girls you had sex with 18 years or more ago.

Vince: Does oral count?

Coach: What? No!

Vince: What if I just showed her pictures of my crotch?

Coach: Vince-

Vince: Oh, this is pointless, Coach. I don’t even know the name of the stripper I had sex with last night, much less 18 years ago. Can’t we just say that Mae Young had a liver stuffed up there or something and call it a day?

Coach: Do you really want to admit to having sex with Mae Young?

Vince: Fine. I’ll go find my little black book.

Cody Rhodes: Maybe it’s me! I don’t want to grow up to be a fat old gasbag.

Vince: Shouldn’t you be off studying? Or trying to turn heel?

Cody: Sheesh. Fine! I just wanted to give you this condom. Quit having babies. K thanks.

Coach: I have to admit, introducing a baby to a cast is almost always the death knell for a series.

Vince: Don’t be such a downer, Coach.

WWE Chief Medical Officer Dr. Yukio Hatori: I’ve run all the DNA tests, Mr. McMahon, and I’ve come to the conclusion that your baby is, indeed, a half cooked chicken parmesan.

Dr. The Boogeyman: I’m THE BOOGEYMAN! And I’m coming to concur with YOOOU’re analysis.

Hatori: Thanks!

Boogeyman: Mwahahahaha!

Vince: I’m pretty sure that’s actually Kane’s baby.

Kane: MORRIS! There you are! Daddy’s missed you!

Lita: Visitation is from today through Thursday. Later skaters!

Vince: What a heartwarming scene.

Boogeyman: Who wants worms?

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WWE Idol!

Todd Grisham: Hello everyone and welcome to WWE Idol. I’m apparently the closest thing they could get to Ryan Seacrest, which makes me want to jump off the stage into a pool of broken glass and rusty nails. Anyway, we’re going to have three people come out here and sing. Here to mock them are William Regal.

William Regal: I look quite fetching rubbing my nipples there on the Titan Tron.

Grisham: Maria.

Maria (nee Punk Tennyson Lund Caribbean Cool): Touchdown! Oops, wait, I wasn’t supposed to say that because Football was on. Don’t turn on Football everybody, it’s just a bunch of boring third string guys! Not nearly as exciting as…wrestlers singing….

Grisham: And our third judge, New York’s own Mick Foley!

Mick Foley: I really have to say, I don’t know why I was picked to be the fat black guy, but I’m not going to say “dawg” if that’s ok, with everybody.

Regal: Fifty bucks for every time you say it.

Foley: Dawg, that’s why you’re my dawg, dawg. You’re a real dawg, dawg. Like Michael Vick’s dawgs. You’re my dawg.

Grisham: First up is Jillian Hall. Jillian?

I will remember yoooou!
(Doo boo dop dodop dodop)
Will you remember meeeeee?
(Doo boo dop doooooop)
Don’t let your liiiiiife
Pass you byyyyy
(Doo boo dop doodop doodaaaa)
Weep not foooor,
The Meeeeeemooooorieeeeeees!

Mick Foley(?): That-uh! Was awesome-uh! First prize-uh!

Regal: Mick, did you suddenly get 100 pounds lighter, gain a limp and forget to put on your Mick Foley mask?

Foley: I AM THE GA…I mean…No-uh.

Maria: Noah built the Ark! Who built the Ark? Brother Noah built the Ark!

Regal: You suck worse than Antonella Barba ontop of Hailey Scarnato! Worst prize!

Foley: Dawg-uh! Even though I prefer cats-uh!

Grisham: Right. Now, because I didn’t have the heart to introduce this next segment, here’s Howard Finkle.

Howard Finkle: Thanks, Todd. Please rise for the singing of the Soviet National Anthem.

Something something,
Lee Iacoca
I forget the words to song,
Soviet Russia is deeead,

This is not helping,
My bid for to become mayor of town,
But money is money,
And I’m a dirty capitalist!

Iron Sheik: Old song, hock ptooie!

Foley: Dawg, I missed that whole segment so far, dawg, because I was out getting nachos, dawg. What’s up, dawg?

Maria: You two sure are old! I’m giving you both an A for AARP!

Regal: I hated the song, but who’s idea was it to give Sheik a live mic?

Iron Sheik: Where is Coach Man? Is Will M. Royal new GM? Why Royal? Why not Sheik?! Sheik is being excellent GM! I push only good wrestler and forget women and Triple 8! Good TV match! HAHAHA! SHEIK IS HEELING ON YOU! Sheik only push Sheik! Best to be getting ready for two hours of Sheik rants time! I tell you about Coach man! I tell you about Kenny Man! You want here steroids? I have million steroids in my mustache! You want hear women wrestling? Hock ptooie!

Sheik is dragged off stage by Volkov.

Grisham: Last but not least, you can not download her album on iTunes or filesharing sites everywhere soon! Lillian Garcia!

Lillian Garcia: Thank you, Todd.

Oh, I’m an annoooooouncer!
I caaall your name,
As you come down to the riiiing!
Some times I get it wrong,

But it’s all good,
Because nobody listens anywayyyyy!
So you might not be Kevin Test,
But that is ok!

I might say Jeff instead of Matt,
But nobody can tell you appaaaaaart!
So I will do my very best,
To keep the show moving at reasonable paaaaaaa-

Santino Marella: Dude, that-a song! It-a suck!

Lillian: You think you could do better, short round?

Marella: As-a matta of fact-a, I do-a!

Oh, Maria-a!
Maria-a!
I’m-a Italian Stereotype-a guy!
You love-a me in-a the morning-a!

And in-a the afternoon-a!
But I’ve-a gotten a warning-a!
That we’ll-a be parting-a soon!
Oh, Maria-a!

Maria-a!
You fallin’-a in love-a!
You neep-a everybody-a!
And I sing-a out of-a tuuuune!

Now you-a neep-a the Ron Simmons-a!
And I-a stare at-a the mooooooon-a!
Oh, Maria-a,
Maria-a!

I don’t-a know what-a to dooo-

Ron Simmons: This segment makes me miss John Cena’s rapping.

Foley: Dawg, this segment, dawg, it makes me miss Tha Trademarc, dawg.

Simmons: Did you just call me, “Dawg?”

Maria: Is this dress low cut enough? Can everybody see my boobs?

Lita: It’s almost perfect.

Regal: The winner of the segment is me. Ha! I’m taking the million dollar recording deal myself. And rubbing my nipples. Good night, Everybody!

Simmons chucks Marella at Foley, but Mick dodges and Santino gets impaled on a cotton candy cone. Taking that as his cue, Grisham drowns himself in a pool of hair gel. Todd Grisham has fallen.

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Remember last week when Vince told Haas that he was looking forward to the tag team match this week? He didn’t mean Cryme Tyme vs. Cade and Murdoch did he? Weird. Anyway, Charlie Haas is not the ideal competitor to start your big heel turn against, Cody. Especially since your dad has been Legend Killed. Shelton basically spends the entire match trying to come up with a new gimmick that doesn’t involve his Mama, so it’s no surprise that Cody rolls up Charlie for the win. Well, it probably wouldn’t have been a surprise anyway, but…You know.

At ringside, Jerry “” Lawler stands up. Yep. That was a whole segment. Knees just ain’t what they used to be, eh, “”?

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Now King Booker is in the ring with Queen Sharmell.

King Booker: It’s that time! That’s right! I’m here to have myself crowned by Jerry Lawler to show you all who the true King of the Wrestling Kingdom is!

Queen Sharmell: I can almost hear Todd Grisham from beyond the grave screaming about how there is no such thing, your highness. Where’s your logic now, Todd?

Booker: Hell yeah. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road. Your jesterness, please crown mine royal head.

Jerry “” Lawler: I cannot, in good conscience, do that, your majesty. Because I just got a note that says that you’re going to be fighting the true King of Kings at Summerslam!

Jesus: What? Why is everybody looking at me?

Hey look! A Triple H video package! They’re happening during segments now! I hope they start doing run-ins during matches too. That’d be great. After the video is over, King Booker punches Lawler out because he doesn’t really feel like jobbing to Hunter already. You should’ve thought of that before you got Whammied over to RAW then, dude.

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Randy Orton is out and he has a mic. This could be trouble.

Randy Orton: Ladies and general men, I, Ranky Q. Morgan, will be taking on Joe Scene for the WDF Girl Heavyweight Tipal at Sumter Stan this year. As you all doe, I am a Legend Kill guy, and there isn’t a bidder legend to kill…guy out there right know than James Seeda’s almost two beer run with the chocolate chip. So I’m about to start what he’s finished! Because I’m your weirdo, yolks! I, Ranky Q. Morgan, Legend Kill Guy, will be the nude face of processional West Wing! And then I’m going to dick everybody in the hedge!

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I want to see a debate between Orton and Sheik. I’m not even kidding. That would be the greatest segment in the history of our great sport. Not Jamal doesn’t seem to know quite how to take this face turn thing works. I bet Cody Rhodes is jealous. There’s a spot open on the heel side of things! Is Not Jamal still the Intercontinental champion? That’s pretty cool. I bet he never thought that would happen when he got kicked out of Not Three Minute Warning. Cena goes for the tag, but gets lost in Not Jamal’s eyes. Awwww…Talk about a hot tag later, huh?

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The crowd proves the general lack of rhythm in New York by going for a “Randy Orton Sucks” chant. You’re doing it all wrong, guys. When the TNA audiences are out cheering you, you have serious issues. Hot tag to Not Jamal and he’s a pancake house afire. I love that his entire offense is basically out of the Kamala playbook and a poke to the eye. That’s a surefire recipe for success. I just can’t wait until Reverend Slick comes in to teach Not Jamal how to interact with other people. Cena with the FU on Carlito and that’ll do it.

Backstage….

Jonathan Coachman: Vince, it’s pretty much physically impossible for you to have had sex with this many women that long ago. You just handed me the 1970 New York City phone book.

Vince McMahon: Coach, I’ve had so many STDs, I’ve developed an immunity. And an unquenchable thirst for bread.

Coach: Well, great. This should narrow the list down to, oh, the entire roster still. Great work, boss.

Vince: Heh…What a waste of a night, huh? Let’s go get drunk.

Linda McMahon: Vince! I’m going to kick you out of the braaaaaaaaaaaains….

Vince: Out of the brains?! NO! Please don’t, Linda!

Linda: My heart belongs to Brock now! And braaaaaaaaaiins!

Brock Lesnar: HERE COMES THE PAIN, LINDA!!!!

Next Week: Linda McMahon turns on Samoa Joe. Also, Michael Cole teaches JBL the finer points of singing a live version of “Say it Right.” Also, Triple’s digital visage interrupts Booker T’s lunch!