DAG, YO. Time for yet another recap of that garden of unearthly delights known as Sunday Night Heat. Smiles, everyone, smiles!

Now, if you haven’t been paying attention, Heat has been getting hot lately. The Immolator is foolish enough to believe that the WWFE lords are prepping Heat to be the Number Two (or, as we say in China, dabian) showcase for either of the two split promotions. They have brought the commentators to ringside, dialled down the cross-promotions and Earlier This Weeks, and increased the quality and profile of the matches. Will the trend continue this week? Or will we be given swift boot in the ass back to the lower midcard? The mind boggles. Or at least hungry hippos.

It’s the usual generic intro, of course. Let’s see, the lyrics to the Heat theme sounds kind of like this:

WHOAAARRGHHH…

When I wanna runny worm, and I go and get it

When I choose what I wanna be, I come around

When I wanna get it off, I whip it out

Gonna get it off, bit it off.

I think there was something about sailing a ship all alone, too, but I couldn’t tell. Those reprobates, those words.

PYRO! PYRO! PYRO! Ay caramba! It’s like they took all of Razor Ramon’s and Diesel’s old pyro pods, scattered them in the ring and set them off. My baby is all grown up! Aw, crud, it’s THE COACH joining TAZZ at ringside, and I don’t mean John Tolos. Ah, well, I’m prepared to cut M. Coachman a little slack, provided he keeps his metatarsals out of his mouth.

YOWZA! It’s JACQUELINE THE TASTY REFEREE to start things off. Humminahumminahummina. She’s wearing her barely-there ref “shirt” and those black leather pants. DAH-yumn! The Immo should have said more prayers and taken more vitamins growing up. An abbreviated lifetime of neck problems and constant jetlag would be worth it to be in the same arena as she. Michael Cole is apparently on location. Insert our own joke using the word “location.” Yes, it’s informative AND interactive this week.

THE FINK is your announcer today! And here comes RIKISHI and his Ass of No Return to a good pop. 350 pounds? What is he, five-foot-two? His opponent, arriving to the old R4dicals theme, is The Illustrated Man himself, PERRY SATURN. Tazz says WMX8 will be a “rocket buster.” He also says Saturn has “more ink on his body than… uh… ah… a piece of paper with a lot of pen ink on it.” God bless you, Tazz.

Saturn gets the early heelish offence and pounds Rikishi in the corner, forcing Jackie to interpose her joyously bountiful self and take charge. Sigh. Coach says RAW, live from Austin, Texas, will feature a match with one of the members of the nWo. My money is on one of the charter members of the Texas chapter of the black-and-white… yes, Vincent. Rikishi reverses and dishes out the punishment on Saturn, and Jackie once again intercedes. Irish by Rikishi to the far corner, axe clothesline. Big punch, and a side slam for two. Tazz calls someone from TE2 a “pencil-neck geek” and gives due props to the Classy One. Saturn with some forearms and an Irish, reversed, Rikishi ducks and gets booted in the face, then a clothesline gets Saturn a two-count before a HUGE power out by Rikishi sends Saturn between the ropes to the floor. Saturn drags Rikishi out, and Jackie gives them the Loudest Count on Earth. Irish by Saturn toward the ring steps, but the reversal send him butt-first into the unforgiving steel. Rikishi tosses Saturn under the bottom rope and follows. Irish to the far corner, but Saturn comes out with a back elbow and a springboard 180 dropkick off the second rope. Nice. Two-count as the camera angle changes so we can’t see down Jackie’s top while she gives the count. Curses! Headbutt to the midsection of Rikishi.  Jumping kick. Another headbutt, but Rikishi blocks with a knee. Clothesline, Saturn ducks under, big savate kick by Saturn. He tries to follow, but walks into a Samoan Drop. Both men are down. Both up at about five, and Rikishi locks in a belly-to-belly while Tazz discusses the sound made by the odiferous emanations from when Rikishi slaps his buttocks. HASSA! HASSA! Look out… EARTHQUAKEah! He’s going for the Avalanche… HASSA! HASSA! Nope, Saturn moved out of the corner. Northern Lights! He goes for a regular cover instead of the bridge. Two-and-a-half! Rikishi up with an Irish to the corner and a savate to the skull of poor Perry, looks like his day is almost done. Rikishi drags him to the corner… uh-oh. BONSAI! ! And the 1-2-3. About four-and-a-half minutes… not bad. Before we leave, Rikishi puts on his hat. How about putting some pants on while you’re at it? Yeesh. Jackie shakes her moneymaker for good measure. It’s Immo’s duty to please that booty. Hey, on the ‘Net, anything’s possible.

This segment is not over yet… because THE HURRICANE is… PERAMBULATING! He walks by referee TIM WHITE, who has been reduced to using one of those brown plastic stir sticks to stir his coffee, instead of the more effective wooden model.

TW:  “Hey, Hurricane! How ya doin’?”

TH:  “You asked The Hurricane how he’s doing? Whussupwitdat? Well, The Hurricane has always been super. [thumbs up, grin. Hey, he stole that from Michael Modest!] But Mighty Molly, on the other hand, is in dire straits. For last Monday night, when The Hurricane was vanquishing villains, a villainess reared her ugly head, and attacked my faithful sidekick. But rest assured, Mighty Molly will be okay. And now, tonight, I face Solomon Grundy…”

TW:  “I thought you were wrestling Test tonight.”

TH:  “ [pause] That’s what I said. But crime never sleeps. And I have a job to do. Now, stand back! There’s a Hurricane coming through!”

WHOOSH! Tazz exclaims, “Solomon Bundy?!” Bless you, Tazz. Later tonight, cringe along with AL SNOW as we watch TE2 wannabes fail to do kip-ups. End of segment.

POINTLESS ASIDE: Heat, right now, reminds me of the Toronto Blue Jays. A lot of turnover, a new look, and a good shot at grabbing people’s attention while the Yankees (RAW) and the Mariners (SmackDown!) do their thing. Perhaps a cult following is on the menu. Call it “The .500 Club.”

Stand back! Again! The aforementioned match (with TEST, that is) is next. Let’s take you back to RAW where Jazz beat the holy bejeezus out of Molly. Semi-brainbuster! STF! DDT! Beauty, eh? Test is out to his old “This is a test” opening leading into his new EVIL music. Clumsy. Very clumsy. Tazz is wondering where Solomon Bundy is.

Heat is brought to you by slim jim, Honda and Swanson Hungry-Man TV dinners. As a prefect segue, Coach points out that Test likes neither rooster jewels, bile nor cod liver oil. That’s the stuff he barley even took a sip of during Fear Factor last week. Which I didn’t watch, despite the performance of Jackie. Tazz says Rooster jewels are a delicacy in Red Hook. And squirrel jewels, and pigeon nipples. Bless you, Tazz.

I haven’t given a Test match a full recap recently. Hurricane with little-guy offence until Test nails him with a full nelson slam. Test with Nash-like offence. The commentators discuss Y2J. Suplex for two. Ooh, a suplex. Tazz says, when Steph gets remarried, she’ll have to wear beige or light brown. Hurricane gets his second wind, buh-dum-ching. Little-guy offence. Float-over DDT for two-and-a-half. Test with a tilt-a-whirl suplex for two. Test is ready to deck referee BRIAN HEBNER, or is it Bryan? Or is it his EVIL twin Byron? Test shoves, Li’l Hebner shoves back, Test gets planted by the Eye of the Hurricane, but kicks out after two. ‘Cane goes for the Buff Blockbuster, Tazz calls it “The Overcast,” but he misses. Here’s the Big Boat… nope, ‘Cane ducks! Savate by Hurricane… for two only. ‘Cane goes to the top… flying cross body… caught by Test in mid-air. Test drops him down into a dragon sleeper and NAILS him with the Roll of the Dice. HASSA! HASSA! Actually, it’s a good-looking finisher, better than his previous one. Booting someone in the face is not terribly impressive for a finisher, sorry. About two-and-a-half minutes. Thank you, drive through.

Still to come, the CINDER BLOCK OF DOOM, plus TE2 wannabes go for a jog in the desert. FEEL THE LACTIC BUILD-UP!!

POINTLESS ASIDE: Where’s your precious little Nordic Combined NOW, huh?

Time for a TE2 casting special recap. Lovely. Hey, Joe Dirt submitted a tape! “This is The Lizard. What he does is, he creeps around at night… SSSSS!” Oh Lordy, I just coughed up my spleen, that was so good. Anni looks all right. Other people cut promos that makes me embarrassed to have the gift of hearing. Twenty-five people are chosen. I don’t think The Lizard was among them. Tazz takes them for a three-mile run, but not before he gets in the face of someone who cut a promo on him during his audition tape. The guy looks like Jason Priestlay’s wussier brother. Halfway through, each participant gets a backpack with half his or her bodyweight in it. Now RUN, YOU MAGGOTS! Thirteen were chosen from the 25, including Anni. Suh-weet. Another largely-muscled woman made it, too. This ain’t TE1, I’ll tell you that.

When we come back, more nWo shenanigans… and RVD v. Lance Storm! WHOAAARRGHH!!!

POINTLESS ASIDE: Okay, Immo likes women with big muscles. But not exclusively. Nor does he fantasize about getting his head cracked open like a walnut within the confines of a leg-scissors. Whussupwitdat? Now, put me in an apartment wrestling match with, say, the cast of Coyote Ugly… hey, nobody said you had to read the pointless aside.

Life is good, it’s LANCE STORM, Calgary’s biggest export since W.O. Mitchell. And to a HUGE pop, it’s ROB VAN DAM, Battle Creek’s biggest export since, uh, Betty Hutton. Let’s get to it, boppers. Collar-and-elbow. Lance gets RVD into the corner, referee JACK DOAN applies the count, Storm with a knee to the gut instead of a clean break. He’s EVIL! Another knee, and a punch. Irish to the far corner. Charges in… RVD flips over Lance’s back, does the tumbling tumbleweed to the far corner, backward somersault over the charging Storm, reverse monkey flip on the rebound. High octane, baby. Savate kick to the chin by RVD. Backward somersault into a lateral press for two. RVD’s got Storm in the corner. Shoulder tackle, shoulder tackle, backflip, charges in… and eats the ringpost as Storm moves out of the way. DDT by Storm just plants him. Coach says not to try that at home. Cover for two. Knee to the head. Another. Legdrop to the back of the head. Another cover for two by Lance. “I know it’s two!” says Storm in disgust. Head to the turnbuckle. Chop. (WHOO!) Twice. (WHOO!) Thrice. (WHOO!) Irish to the far corner as Tazz gives praise for a great match. Back elbow by RVD on the charging Storm. Flying scissors by RVD on Lance’s legs, sort of like a reverse drop toehold as Storm’s shoulders hit the mat for a two-count. Storm with a nasty back elbow after the kickout. Irish by Lance… Big ol’ leg clothesline, Harlem Sidekick-style. Cover for two-and-a-half. Crowd chants “Arvid E.! Arvid E.!” as Storm scowls. Throttle over the second rope. Boot to the head (na, na) and a boot across the throat. Regarding Axxess, Tazz says there is nothing he loves to do more on his days off than meet the fans, yessiree Bob. “Life is a flower,” quoth Tazz. Spinning leg lariat by RVD! “OHHHHH!” quoth Tazz. Irish, and another leg lariat. Two-count. Reverse jawbreaker by Storm. Punch, RVD ducks, back suplex by RVD. ROLLIN’ T’UNDER! Two-and-a-half. Irish, RVD ducks his head, tastes the boot. Storm misses an outside roundhouse kick, so does RVD, Storm tries another one, gets caught, RVD steps through, Storm knows what’s next and tries an enzuigiri, but RVD ducks. Storm goers for a clothesline… NASTY belly-to-back with a bridge! One, two, two-and-a-half! Storm with the Irish to the far corner. Charges in, RVD with the back body drop, but Storm lands feet-first on the apron. Storm rams RVD’s head into the turnbuckle, and goes up top… YEEOWTCH! RVD meets him with a jumping inside roundhouse to the external occipital protuberance. That would kill a man. RVD going for a second-rope belly-to-belly… Lance fights it with fists to the back… leaps out of the way back into the ring… and just EATS a flying side kick to the mush. Storm is out. RVD staggers… methinks its time for the ***** Froggy, the crowd is apoplectic, RVD looks like he’s been through a wringer… SPLAT! He connects and scores the pin. Five minutes of sweet, sweet science. WHOAAARRGHH!!! Damn, that was fine.

Still to come… bonus fries! Edge v. Mr. P.! And those wacky nWo guys. End of brilliant segment.

POINTLESS ASIDE: You know who I miss? That’s right… Waylon Mercy. Remember when people on RSPW though his catchphrase was “Life’s a bowl of beans in Waylon Mercy’s hands?” Good times, right, Bill? Good times. Of course, I also liked The Skyscrapers, so what do I know? Oh, I also love Milla Jojovich. Even her album was acceptable.

Lots of ads up here in Gold Medal Country during that break. I must have missed the Lugz “Boot up The Ass” again. Saliva’s “Superstar” is your WMX8 theme. What, they couldn’t get a cool Toronto band? Oh, yeah, Glueleg broke up. Never mind. Coach and Tazz set up a week’s worth of nWo bumpf. The gun thing: bad idea. What, that was it for the recap? Just a quick look back at SmackDown!? Good. More time for Mr. P. End of very short (thankfully) segment.

POINTLESS ASIDE: Bono’s really starting to get on my nerves.

You think you know me. AGGGGGHHHH Epileptic seizure! GZZPHGBLGKKKKTHBPTTTT… oh, man, it’s okay. I’m all right. Just about swallowed my tongue there. That can only mean one thing: EDGE and his strobe lights are assaulting my tender corneas. I think I need some Sour Skittles to heighten the effect. And maybe a shrimp fork rammed into my navel.

MR. PERFECT gets introduced second because Edge knows his place in the universe. Can’t tell if he connected with the gum swat, though. Tazz says Coach’s forehead is so big, it should be called a five-head. BOO-yah! Collar-and-elbow, quickly into a side headlock by P. Edge pushes out, P connects with a shouldertackle on the rebound. Off the far ropes, Edge rolls onto his stomach, P leaps over, Edge leapfrogs on the rebound, hip block by Edge after P jumps just a shade too early. Dropkick by Edge sends P hurtling out the ring. Edge grabs a handful of Perfect hair and hauls him back onto the apron. He tries to ram P’s head into the turnbuckle, but P blocks and it’s Edge with a faceful instead. Chop. (WHOO!) And again. (WHOO!) “You’re in the ring with Mr. Perfect, boy!” P slaps him, then throws him hair-first across the ring like a girl. YEAH! Edge responds with three WHOO! chops of his own, and a hair toss that sends P careening crotch-first into the ringpost. Ayeee! Two shoulder tackles in the corner. He goes for a third, but P punches him in the schnozz while occasionally-EVIL referee NICK PATRICK is interceding. P mimes the “I pushed him” routine to humorous effect, and boots Edge in the head a couple of times. AGAIN with the hair just for fun, this time a snap mare in to the PERFECT flying mare. Vintage. P soaks in the boos. Abdominal stretch while holding the ropes invokes Tazz’s ‘70s wrestling announcer voice. They trade punches, P swings wildly, Edge ducks and connects with the old-school atomic drop. AND the inverted atomic drop. Ouch. Flying clothesline by Edge. Edge-O-Matic for two. Edge with the Irish, reversed, P goes for the Axe, Edge ducks, and on the rebound P drags Patrick into the oncoming spear. HE’S A GENIUS! No, wait, that was his faithful sidekick, full of glory and renown. P drives Edge’s shoulder into the ringpost. Now P is outside… he’s got the folding chair! But Patrick is already back to his knees and says “Meet me at DQ” after four minutes and change. P’s pissed! He’s going to chair Patrick… SPEAR! by Edge and the chair goes flying, along with maybe some vertebrae. CROWD POP! Hey, my Durango. Number 95. P bails while Edge sits on the chair in the middle of the ring.

Scream if you want it, ‘cos I want more.

That show RULED. Make sure you see the next one. Until then…

MTV peace.