by The Immolator
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

Dag, yo. It’s the first Heat of 2002. What does the year hold in store for the WWF? Well, more sex and violence, I guess. And potty humour. Lots of potty humour.

‘Scuse me while I whip this out…

LEPERS, WE GET LEPERS, WE GET STACKS AND STACKS OF LEPERS… Jon from Parts Unknown (well, somewhere in Eastern Canada, according to my Immo-senses… maybe Guelph.) tells me the big RW on Rikishi’s jacket stands for “Rikishi Wear,” which, he noticed, was on the front of his jacket. Good eye, son. He also wonders who the heck would buy Rikishi Wear. Rita MacNeil, perhaps?

Let’s get down to it, boppers. We are Live! From the heart of Times Square, and inside are RAZZMA TAZZ and KOLE and some WWF product strewn about the table. We have a red-hot guest (aha! Not a guest host! See, there is hope for the world.), and it’s the lovely she-devil herself, TERRI GUNWALES. Thar she blows! F’nar F’nar…

Riffs in the style of Y&T. 1-2-3-4… it’s THE ASS KING (w/ CHUCK CHUCK BO-BUCK). Chuck’s doing the airplane. Tazz calls them “very unique.” Not just somewhat unique, I guess. Tazz continues…

T:  “You mentioned Terri is the guest here tonight, and Terri's very hot, and you gotta admit, there’s some people out there that might think these two guys are hot.”

You know, once Gumbo gets on RAW, Lawler is just going to have a field day with these guys. But, like I said last week, a little goes a long way with this gimmick. Don’t smother it with double entendres.

Christian will defend the Euro later, plus, the “world premiere” of Rob Zombie’s new video for Edge’s theme music. Hmmm. I guess it’s obvious who got the better of the split. 

Turn it up! It’s SCOTTY 2 INJURED (w/FATAL BERT but w/out CAPTAIN CARROT). Cue the unending “worm” jokes. Oh, guess what, it will be Chuck v. Albert later. Leaving no room for Tajiri again this week, I fear. The referee, who I think is Chad Patten (not “Blind” anymore ‘cos I realised I ripped that gimmick off of CRZ), sends Albert back to the dressing room without any supper. And then does the same to Chuck, much to Billy’s dismay.

Billy gets the upper hand while Scotty’s attention is on Chuck’s departure. Bodyslam, and then Gunn does a little dance and hits a single bicep pose. I think he’s chewing gum in there, too. Geez, you could choke on that, Billy. Or, you could choke on the fists being delivered by Scotty, who took advantage of your posing. Irish, reversed, tilt-a-whirl suplex by Gunn. Two count. Tomorrow, it’s frickin’ HHH, I know already, geez. Also, Austin and Rock v. Bossman and Booker T. Holy squash! And they are truly missing an opportunity if they don’t recreate the MSG Incident. Head to the turnbuckle. YAWN. More punches, and a choke. Irish, Billy ducks, swinging DDT by Scottie. Not bad. Both me down, ref counts to 9 before both men get up and trade punches. Scottie with the advantage, Irish, reversed, Scottie ducks under the clothesline attempt, standing neckbreaker from behind. Two count. In the corner, Gunn gets a knee in, Irish to the far corner, Gunn charges… and eats the ringpost. Gunn is doing the woozy dance from the video games while Scottie tries to hit the Faceplant of Doom, but Gunn ducks and hits the Fame-Asser. (3:42). Nothing special. Move along, please.

Back in WWF New York, they give the rundown again for what’s on the show. Tazz says it will be a rocket buster. I say it’s gonna be a suckfest extraordinaire.

The Mothman Prophecies! Ahh, the phone’s ringing! I’m scared! Ahh, it rang again! NOOOOooooo!!!

Back in WWF New York, you’re damn skippy, Heat is brought to you by Stacker 2, for those days when you just don’t feel like eating right and exercising. And by 1-800-ABLK-CUV. And by Slim Jim. Tastes like meat!

Here’s a dumb-ass video looking back at all the crap we had to put up with in 2001 while we waited patiently for wrestling matches. Like, “Wind Beneath my Ring.” And Terri pouring a beer on her chest. Okay, some of it was good. Hey, they even showed Michael P.S. Hayes doing the moonwalk.

Still to come, more not wrestling!

New Vector Energy Bar. Great for when you’re being attacked by crazed soccer hooligans. Don’t eat it, just hit ‘em over the head with the bar.

Black Hawk Down. You gotta be coprolite-ing me. Let’s make a film about the most embarrassing military debacle in U.S. history. Besides Vietnam. Okay, I take it back.

Back at WWF New York, looks like Jazz was the subject of another Lugz Boot Up Yer Arse or something.

Aw, bloody hell, it’s the Beautiful Day video, AGAY-YUNH. That’s it, I don’t like HHH anymore. And if you play it one more time, I might start hating U2. Nah.

Up next… more commercials! And Terri… hotter than a Mexican lunch plate, says Tazz. I think. She’s probably also a rocket buster, too. Ask Dustin.

I guess this is as good of a place as any to point out that I occasionally can be found in the OOForums, in the TV/Event Critiques section. Any vaguely relevant commentary is welcome.

Back on Heat, apparently they showed some Royal Rumble history. Cole introduces “guest host” Terri (damn!) to a staggering round of silence while they cue up her music. Terri comes out onto the stage to a mild pop with her own mic while Tazz and Cole stay at the table. Terri tells us she is the host of Excess and that she paid more money for her boob job than Trish did. After a few minutes of witty banter and repartee, she introduces the Rob Zombie video. Which is actually the video with what seems to be randomly inserted clips of Edge. Rob’s wearing the “A Clockwork Orange” ensemble, complete with eyelash. But no umbrella.

Any wrestling today? Hello? Wrestling? Bueller? Bueller?

So, back to the commercials. I don’t get the appeal of a video game about snowboarding. If you’re into snowboarding, wouldn’t you, like, be outside snowboarding? Or in traction?

Sonata! Come back! SONAAAAAAAAATAAAaaaaa!!!

Oh, and here’s a guy playing with the creamy white filling inside a Cadbury Easter Creme Egg. Ewwwwwww… all over the dog.

It’s raining in New York. Inside, Tazz shills the Rumble, and “Cocky” by Kid Rock. I curse the day MTV was born. Curse you, Monday! After invoking the name of Ric Flair, Tazz chops Cole, but not nearly hard enough.

Riffs in the style of Europe, 1-2-3-4… it’s Palumbo doin’ the airplane. Tazz screams “Whoo!” loud enough to make the guys in the truck throw their headphones down and clutch their now-bleeding ears in pain.

Turn it up again! It’s Albert. Cole says Tazz’s chop was like a defribulator. He also says “Didn't Palumbo used to be a brunette?” Ho ho! Chuck with the early advantage, Irish, reversed, back elbow from Albert. Clothesline under the second rope. Painful. Albert does the disco dance thing. Even more painful. But not as painful as Palumbo’s ol’ trick knee acting up. Palumbo drives Albert’s shoulder into the ring, and now has actually isolated a body part. No, the shoulder, you perv. Discus punch! So much for the shoulder. Lotsa punches, Irish to the corner, follows up, but eats a back elbow from Albert. Clothesline attempt by Palumbo ducked, now Albert with the left jabs, one, two, mashed potatoes, big right hand. Vader clothesline. Headbutt. Gorilla press… nope, Albert couldn’t hoist him up properly, so he just slams him down. Albert setting up for the Avalanche, but Palumbo grabs the ref (whoever it is) and pulls him in the way. Rather than make a ref sandwich, Albert stops just in time. And, while the ref and Palumbo discuss the underlying theme of homoeroticism in professional wrestling, Billy Gunn sneaks in and hits a really weak sleeper slam on Albert. 1-2-3 and it’s over (2:29). “Dammit!” exclaims Cole. I concur. That was crap. But the heelishness was sound. Go Gumbo!

What’s this! Gunn is stomping away at Albert, but here comes Scottie to save the day. He superkicks Gunn over the top rope, Albert Irish whips Palumbo to the corner, and Scottie whips Albert into same corner for a YAAAAAAAAAAvalanche. What’s next? You know it! Faceplant of Doom! “Palumbo loves worms!” says Tazz. Riiiiiight. W-O-R-M! Worm, worm, worm, HOO! HOO! HOO! And Gunn pulls Palumbo out of the ring before the chop! YES! They are SUPER-heels! That is how you create heat. At least, if you’re not going to have a decent wrestling match, that is how you do it.

Still to come, Crash and Christian. Hallelujah.

Here’s the Honda CR-V commercial with the polar bear swimmers. Yes, lady, that is supposed to be fun. Now, chuff off. Looks like Honda has failed to reach the key “polar bear swimmer” demographic.

Rock/Austin v. Booker/Bossman. Surely you are manure-ing me.

Back to the ring, it’s PARTY ON, WAYNE and his bitchin’ entrance. Although it was much more in Christian’s character when the music sounded like Bohemian Rhapsody. And if he’s 224 pounds, then I need Rikishi Wear. Il Mondo! Funny how the commentators haven’t caught on that the Canadian Mafia are… you know, Canadian.

Next up, he was a heel last week, he’s a face this week, he’s… CRASH HISLASTNAMEISONHISTIGHTS. Damn, now I need a new name for him. And if he’s 215 pounds… ah, never mind. I thought he was well over 400 pounds?

Collar-and-elbow, Christian with the arm wringer. Crash reverses. Hammerlock, side headlock. Christian pushes him off into the ropes, Crash comes back with a shouldertackle. Christian’s pissed! He pushes Crash in the chest as if to say, “What do you think this is, a wrestling show or something?” Crash responds with five quick forearms to the jaw, Irish, drops the head and eats Christian’s boot. Christian runs toward him and gets dumped over the top rope. Christian get son the apron, Crash punches him, then pulls himself under the bottom rope between Christian’s legs, grabs him by the ankles and yanks him down so that his head bounces off the apron. Or at least so he slaps the apron really loud with both hands. Crash in the ring, off the ropes… baseball slide dropkick. Crash tosses Christian back in the ring… rolling cradle! Two count only from another of the modular referee crew. Christian drapes the neck over the top rope and follows him inside. Crash thrown shoulder-first into the ringpost. Christian grabs an arm and pulls him into the centre of the ring, then changes arms so he’s actually working the damaged one. Arm wringer, yanking away at that ball-and-socket. Armbar. “Who sucks now, huh?!”  Apparently you do, because Crash just hip blocked you. Crash goes for an elbowdrop, but Christian rolls out of the way, and Crash sells that shoulder, because he used his damaged arm to deliver the move. Christian with the hammerlock, Crash with three back elbows to escape, off the ropes, ducks under a Christian clothesline, off the far ropes... Crash does that thing where you turn around and launch yourself prostrate-first at the guy and wrap your legs around him, then rolls him up. Two count! Now Christian with the armbreaker on the bad arm. Two count. Crash is up with more forearms and a jawbreaker and an inverted atomic drop that Cole calls a kneedrop. Dropkick. Irish to the corner. Crash follows in, Christian tries to dump him over the top, but Crash lands on the apron and yanks Christian down to the mat by the hair. Crash climbs the turnbuckles…  cross body! Shades of Flair-Steamboat! One-two-th… no, two-and-a-half. Christian back up, going for a slop drop, Crash punches out, Irish to the corner, reversed by Christian, he tries to follow up but eats a back elbow. Crash to the top again, nope, got crotched that time. Christian going for the superplex, but Crash blocks it and turns it into a gourdbuster. Shades of Pillman-Liger at Superbrawl II! Tornado DDT! One! Two! No! C’mon, that’s a legit finisher right there, you don’t just kick out of that like it’s nothing, unless your name is Hogan. Crash setting him up for a back suplex… Christian flips over, Unprettier, that’s it (4:30). Solid match. Tazz says “Turn out the liiiiiiiights, the party’s over.” Represent!

RAW is MSG, tomorrow! The crappy main event, plus HHH! DO THE MSG INCIDENT! DO IT! They’re not going to do it, are they? DAH-yumn!

We out. BBC Peace.

E-MAIL THE IMMOLATOR
BROWSE THE HEAT RECAP ARCHIVES

The Immolator, in his other so-called life, has to drag his bad self out of
bed at 3:30 in the morning to work the IT desk at CKNW, your Vancouver
Canucks station.

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