Then you had RAW, which was about as good a show as we have any business expecting these days. And it's also the show that I'll spend 8000 words talking about once I'm done pre-rambling, so there's no point discussing it now. Let's just say they made it so I didn't fast-forward Umaga's segment this week, and that's pretty remarkable.

Then a flip over to Letterman. And I was rewarded by a rare re-emergence of the old carefree asshole Dave. Maybe Martha Stewart brings it out of him? All I know is that the best part of the whole show was Dave subversively undermining Criss Angel at just about every turn. Angel was there to do one of his retardo-stunts, but Dave spent about 45 minutes making sure to subtly mock the thing both before and after it took place. Seriously, I don't mean to be a dick, but that was spot-on. If you or anyone you know is even vaguely intrigued by Criss Angel, please consult a professional and have further testing done to make sure you don't also believe in "Harry Potter" or think that anything that ever happens on "reality TV" is real.

And as a capper for the night? A rerun of U2 hijacking Conan. Yeah, it actually happened six months ago, but it was a damned fine hour of TV. The comedy was funny, and the rock 'n' roll rocked, and that's same tasty comfort food right before sack time.

I usually get very frustrated if I can't find some better use for myself than spending 7 straight hours letting TV poop into my brain, but on this night? I can't really complain.

Pre-ramble thus concluded, let's get on to focusing to the 2 of those hours that you came here to read about.....

Video Package: Spirit Squad, Shawn Michaels, Shane McMahon, HHH, Stuff Happened. If you don't remember, you might have a learning disability. As a service to you short-bussers out there, here's a link to last week's recap, if you really need it.

"Cold" Open: Is it still a cold open if it follows a video package? Regardless, we cut from the preceding video package to a shot of Vince McMahon backstage, where he says that after last week, when his son Shane was "accidentally" (Vince made the finger quotes, indicating he wasn't entirely convinced) hit with a sledgehammer, there's some 'splainin' to do. So Shawn Michaels' punishment will be a 1-on-5 handicap match against the entire Spirit Squad. And Triple H? Well, if the sledge shot was an accident, then HHH shouldn't have a problem giving Vince a sincere apology. And if that apology is not forthcoming? Hell to pay.

Opening Theme/Pyro/Etc., and we are live as live can be in Las Vegas, NV. If only Eric Bischoff were still alive, this almost certainly would have been a Very Special Episode of RAW Roulette... as it stands, we'll have to make do with what Mr. McMahon announced, and possibly some other things that'll just so happen to pop up along the way. In order to facilitate the pop-uppening, Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler waste little time shooting us down to the ring for....

Foley's a Whore, and Heyman's the Pimp What Slapped Him

The ring is all set up with a fancy red carpet and some kind of display case (under a red velvet blanket). And heading to the ring to start the show? Mick Foley, dapperly attired in a suit. Well, with Mick, "dapper" is a matter of some debate. But a suit is a suit.

When a third of the crowd still gives Mick a "Foley, Foley" chant to start, he acknowledges it, and masterfully plays off it. He says "See, I'm not a bad guy. I'm still the same lovable Teddy Bear who does things like smile big, stick his thumb up, and say how great it is to be right here. In Las Vegas, Nevada!". Parts of the other two-thirds of the crowd decide to buy into that. And then roughly 95% of the live crowd is immediately kicked in the jimmy when Foley says, "Except it's not that great at all to be here." By not overplaying the Dick Line, Foley actually maximizes the boos, methinks. Make it any showier or any funnier, and part of the crowd is still gonna think Mick's being cool.

Foley uses that segue to explain how here in Vegas, everybody seems to believe that fame and fortune is just one roll of the dice away. People here seem to think that all it takes to succeed is a little bit of luck. But Mick abhors that notion, because he's gone through life EARNING every single thing he ever got. He gave of his body to become a 3-time WWE Champion, and he gave of his soul to become a 2-time NY Times Bestselling Author. In a rant worthy of the Rick, Foley basically says he's sick of people who blithely aspire to luck and random-entitlement, and thinks it's time we all learn and respect the fact that actual ability and EARNING IT is what it takes to succeed in life.

And in fact, that brings Mick to his Guest of Honor tonight. Somebody who proved a lot to Mick at WrestleMania 22, who truly *has* earned everything he's ever gotten (including the right to brag about being the most-watched WWE Champion in five years, notes Mickels).... in a word, he's talking about Edge. So out comes Edge, and with him out comes Lita who is wearing..... awwwwwWWWWW, CRAP~! Damn you, Lita, for being so good at looking so convincingly slutty. And damn you, My Slightly Engorged Penis, for I honestly thought you had better taste than that.

Once Edge and Lita are in the ring (and once even the happily-married Mick cannot stop himself from commenting on Lita's all-encompassing wangosity, which makes me feel a little bit better about my plight), we quickly get to the point of tonight's opening segment. You see, Mick realized at WrestleMania 22 that there was no shame in losing the Greatest Hardcore Match Of All Times. Not when his opponent turned out to be the Greatest Hardcore Wrestler of All Times. 

Amidst a background of grumbling and boos, Foley seemingly rewrites history, casting Edge as Abdullah the Butcher, Bruiser Brody, and the Sheik all wrapped up into one guy. Foley says that "hardcore" isn't about "the worthless slime that oozed out of ECW." Hardcore is about what Foley and Edge did at WrestleMania. And so, Edge should be acknowledged and rewarded for his hardcore status...

Mick uncovers the display case, revealing the old Hardcore Title Belt. It was given to him as a retirement gift, but Mick thinks it's time to unretire it and award it to the Greatest Hardcore Wrestler Ever. EVAR~!

Edge takes the title, and then begins feigning tears and Deep Seated Emotion. You see, everything Mick said is true, it's just that.... *sniff*.... Edge can't accept this..... *tear-wipe*... because Mick's the one who toiled in bingo halls, Mick's the one who had Ric Flair degrade him as "nothing but a glorified stuntman," Mick's the one paved the way. So no: Edge can't accept this token from the True Greatest Hardcore Wrestler Ever. EVAR~!

So Mick flips a switch (let's call it the "Blatantly Toying with the Audience and Doing it Masterfully" Switch), and says that it appears we have a problem. Mick thinks Edge is the greatest hardcore wrestler ever. Edge thinks Mick is the greatest hardcore wrestler ever. So maybe there's only one way to settle this debate, and maybe we should settle it right here, right now. After a few moments of intense eye-contact and a few Nods of Assent, Edge goes over and says something to Lilian Garcia. The crowd believes we are about to have us the announcement of an Impromptu Match.

The crowd is wrong. Instead, Lilian announces "Ladies and gentlemen, you new CO-HOLDERS of the Hardcore Title, Mick Foley and Edge." And then Edge, Foley, and Lita play the "Gotcha" card as they tauntingly pose to the crowd with the title belt. Needless to say, the crowd says "boo."

Before the showboating can reach epic proportions (and before Lita's eye-riveting contribution to the showboating can cause the Threat Condition in my pants to get above "Yellow"), we have a surprise interruption. It's Paul Heyman. And since he's rocking a baseball cap and a trenchcoat, it's Paul Heyman 1997. Which probably means he's here with ECW on his mind. But with Paul, you know he won't just bludgeon you with a randomly generated thesis: he'll build up to it like the master rhetorician he is.

So we begin: "Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho. How appropriate that I come to Nevada, and the first thing I see is an act of prostitution?"... the crowd immediately latches on and starts chanting "Ho" at Lita (who sells it appropriately). But the crowd only THOUGHT they had latched on, because that's when Heyman drops the other shoe: "Oh, no, I wasn't talking about you, Lita. I was talking about Mick Foley." Ooohhhhs and Aaaaahhhhhs at that.

Heyman says he realizes that Mick's a grown man and can do whatever he wants, but it has still made Paul sick to see Heyman prostituting himself to be buddies with Edge and Lita, all while dismissing the very fans he used to work so hard to entertain. But at the end of the day, there's more to it than that: "Mick, you've prostituted your name. You've prostituted your legacy. And I can't do anything about that. But I'll be DAMNED if I'm gonna stand by and let you prostitute the name of Hardcore." Some healthy "ECDub" chants at that. Heyman eventually says that he's sorry to say it, but Mick has turned into a sell-out and a shell of his former self.

After taking all of Paul's verbal abuse (and with the reaction shots of Mick -- and also of Lita -- being spot on in that realistic "in-the-moment" kind of way that I love), Mick finally speaks up, saying NO, when Mick looks in the mirror, he doesn't see a shell of his former self. He sees a co-holder of the WWE Hardcore Title. He sees a best-selling author. He sees a "real life action figure." In short: he sees a guy who's still getting it done. Which makes it all the more ironic that Paul Heyman would come here to lob these accusations at him. Because Paul Heyman is nothing. He's not the GM of SmackDown!, and he sure as hell doesn't run his own company anymore. So who the hell are you to question the Mighty Foley, huh? Foley invites Heyman to go crawl back into whatever hole he came from, and leave Foley and Edge to do what they do best, which is entertaining all their fans here in WWE. 

Lots of booing at that, but Heyman says "You know, don't boo him. He's right. I am just a cog in the machine." But he also says that part of his job as a cog in the machine is working on a little something called "ECW One Night Stand." And if Mick and Edge are feeling so confident of their hardcoreness, maybe they'd at least entertain a challenge. Come to One Night Stand, and Heyman promises he can probably dig up "a couple of ECW scumbags," and let's just see who's hardcore. Foley declines, and his gesturing (of the dandy Broad variety) indicates that he doesn't want any part of this. Heyman changes tacks, and says he's surprised.... but hey, if Lita's the only one in the ring with any balls, that's the way it is.

On that punchline, Edge gets pissed and accepts the challenge (to Mick's dismay). For whatever reason, the suggestion of Lita possessing male genitalia REALLY sends Edge flying off the hook, though, as he rants and raves, and eventually says "You know what, let's not even wait till June 11, let's show this dumbass what hardcore is all about right now!"... at this point, Mick's resigned to being along for the ride, so he joins Edge in stalking up towards Heyman.

But Paul's packing aces up the sleeves of that silly trenchcoat! "That's not a very good idea boys. Cuz here's your opponents for One Night Stand." And out come Tommy Dreamer and Terry Funk (wielding a trashcan lid and a cookie sheet, respectively). They use the weapons to gain the initial upper hand, and then start brawling towards ringside. Or, in Terry's case, starts awkwardly stumbling down the ramp while Mick politely falls down and acts like Terry's brawling. I don't want to say this Swan Song is coming a few years too late for Funk, but.... it probably is. If watching him navigate a slight decline less smoothly than Mae-Young-in-Heels does is any indication, anyway.

Once the brawl gets to the ring, Terry and Dreamer go under the ring to get another round of weapons. This time: barbed wire bat and kendo stick, respectively. And this time? Edge and Foley decide to embrace their inner chickenshits, and they go running out through the crowd. How both of Lita's bOObs weren't fully displayed as she was flopping around and jumping over the ringside barricade is beyond me, and only adds to my self-annoyance and frustration that I am paying such close attention to this issue.

As the heels scatter, Dreamer and Funk get in the ring, the "Theme To ECW" plays, and Heyman looks proud as hell up on the stage. Elapsed time: 22 minutes. And every single one of them was worth it. There was nothing about this opening segment that wasn't spot-on and awesome.

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It's Baaa-aack: ads for Diva Search 2006 have finally started. You know what's funny? The rules for this year's contest have been reworded to emphasize the fact that "no wrestling training is necessary," and in fact they go so far as to say "no aspirations towards wrestling are necessary." If this doesn't make you die a little bit inside, then you are probably somebody who'll actually feel sad once Stacy Keibler finalizes her split from WWE so she can go be still-not-very-famous for being extremely-cute-but-not-all-that-talented at some other job on the fringes of the entertainment business.   

Shelton Benjamin vs. Rob Van Dam (IC Title Match)

RVD is accompanied to the ring by footage from last week, which shows how he lost the IC Title to Shelton in a first-ever five-way, two-title match.

Shelton is accompanied to the ring by yet another one of his Magnificent Douchebag Ensembles. I defy anybody to tell me that these outfits don't make you want to slap him way more than "Mama" ever did. I mean this in the most complimentary way possible, and consider it to be a Good Thing.

Fast start for Van Dam, including this neat little variation on a vertical suplex where RVD changed the angle of impact and added in a float-over for a pinfall (but what was cool is that it was more of a SNAP-over, if that in anyway makes for a better Word Picture). Of course, Jim Ross has to go and bust out the adjective "unorthodox" at this point, once again ruining my dirty little fantasy where the word "unorthodox" was exclusively used as JR's secret code for "sucky" during John Cena matches.

I guess if there was one non-awesome thing about the opening promo, it's that it ran long, and will screw with our time management for the night. Because all of 60 seconds into this match, RVD's fast start has him going for a Rolling Thunder. But that's too soon, and Shelton rolls out of the ring. And with us at this stand-off, we already need to do some....

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Back, and the tide has turned, with Shelton working a chinlock on RVD. We get a video clip which shows that this is the result of Shelton countering an RVD 'rana attempt into a Snake Eyes. 

Pretty much as soon as we establish that, RVD fires up for Hope Spot #1. But Shelton kiboshes that by reversing a suplex into a neck breaker. And then he busts out Chinlock #2 (this time, with added body-scissors-action, Kurt-style). RVD fires up with Hope Spot #2, but that is short-circuited and before long, we get Chinlock #3. These two don't really want to waste our time, though, so RVD starts elbowing out of that pretty quickly. Is it Hope Spot #3?

Nope, it's the real comeback: after breaking out of the chinlock, RVD is lounging in a corner. Shelton tries the Stinger Splash (JR: "Big Splash"), but RVD dodges, and starts his fire-up, pronto. Lots of clotheslines and kicks for your standard High Energy portion of the fire-up. Then a few actual near-falls. Of increasing levels of convincingness. There was a standing moonsault. That cool body-vice-roll-up thingie. And eventually a Rolling Thunder that hits. But Shelton keeps kicking out.

As they keep going back and forth, they do a spot where Shelton accidentally shoves RVD into the ref, causing the ref to go down. RVD's slow to recover, too, so Shelton goes out and grabs the IC Title belt. But it turns out neither RVD nor the ref are as badly hurt as Shelton believed: both are, in fact, getting to their feet. And in fact: as soon as Shelton is within leg's reach, RVD springs up and hits a Van Daminator on Shelton, driving the title belt into Benjamin's face.

But also: the ref had also just gotten up at that instant, and saw the Van Daminator happen. He calls for the bell.

Your Winner: Shelton Benjamin, via disqualification, in maybe 8-9 minutes. It was about 5 minutes after we came back from the ad break, and that's really the only part that counts to the "feel" of the match. But there were still the 60 opening seconds and 3 minutes during the ads that technically count, too. Pretty good stuff, and I'm thinking I like the finish. Even though Shelton brought the belt into the ring and RVD never touched it, it's interesting if you have a ref displaying familiarity with RVD's modus operandi, and maybe thinking RVD got and threw the belt at Shelton (as he usually does on the Van Daminator), instead of just assuming Shelton had grabbed the belt of his own free will. Plus: obviously, this furthers RVD's motivations in regards to ECW and not wanting to be restrained by WWE and their stupid rules and biased refs. Nice.

After the Match: a pissed off RVD nailed the still-prone Benjamin with a Frog Splash, and then left with his Money in the Bank Briefcase. Again: spot-on.

Backstage: Vince McMahon is talking to Billy Gibbons and the one guy in ZZ Top who doesn't have a beard. It's never awkward to hear guys in their 60s bragging to each other about recent sexual conquests, so let's do some of that now! Ugh. But then Vince realizes he might have more pressing matters to deal with, and says that he's about to take care of Triple H. So while Vince does that, maybe ZZ Top will enjoy the hospitality provided by Candice Michelle? Vince departs, and Candice bimbos her way into the picture, wearing (oy) a Pearl Necklace. ZZ Top immediately notices this anvil and makes the predictable come-on. And Candice made the predictable noises of acquiescence. Because she is a whore. If anybody can tell me what the point of this was, I'm listening. Although I guess it did -- for the first time in her WWE career -- cast Candice accurately. As Target Practice. Fire away, ZZ Top! Provided guys in their 60s have any ammo left, anyway!

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Two Words For Ya

Vince McMahon Silly Walks his way to the ring, and appears to be in the mood to not waste any time. Huh, that'd be a first. Without belaboring the point or overstaying his welcome, Vince establishes that Triple H hit "My Son Shane" with a sledgehammer last week, and now, an apology had better be forthcoming.

Tangent: what percentage of the audience do you think hears Vince keep using the phrase "My Son Shane" and constantly flashes back to the hit Guided by Voice's song "My Son Cool"? The answer: Rick divided by everybody else. Or so I'm guessing.

So anyway: HHH, get on out here. No HHH. Seriously: get on out here HHH. And finally: here's HHH. He enters to his Alternate Theme Song. And you know what? For as pitiably awful as HHH's entrance at WM was, "Bow Down to the King" has now officially won me over as Fantastic Entrance Music. There is something to be said for any song where the first half-second INSTANTLY gooses the crowd, and in this case, the patented Motorhead guitar-sting does the job, and everybody instantly recognizes it and knows what's coming next. I actually think I dig the song itself, too, but that's not the argument I'm making here. Whether or not you think it makes a good song, the evidence has been tabulated and it makes a SWEET Entrance Song.

HHH heads to the ring at his usual ambling pace, while Vince points to his wrist as if to say "If I were wearing a watch, this would be me telling you to quit wasting time." That's rich, Vince. I can't even make a joke about it without permanently destroying my irony circuits, so you get a pass.

HHH doesn't seem to be in a talking mood, so Vince tries to lead him along. "If you know what's good for you, I figure you've got something to say to me." Nothing from Trips. So we continue, and Vince decides to remind us all of the tale of Shawn Michaels, who sass-mouthed Vince McMahon, and now his life is a living hell. So c'mon, Hunter, you're a smart guy, why don't you just give Vince those two words.

"Two words?" asks Hunter. The crowd instantly senses something, but Vince stupidly and cockily says "Yep, two words." So HHH says "Well, that works out great, cuz I got two words for you." Vince finally registers that this could be a Bad Thing coming..... but nope. HHH drops the bomb:
 
"I'm Sorry."

And you better believe the crowd booed like hell at HHH's apology. But I kinda dig it. We established a few weeks ago that HHH is the "Cerebral Assassin" and that's why he does what he does to keep on Vince's good side. Per that promo, this is not some sell-out deal, nor does it even really tell us what's going through HHH's head. It just tells us that for the moment, the Mental Arithmetic has been done, and HHH will humor Vince in order to not make an enemy out of him. All while keeping open pretty much every eventuality, since you never know when one last element tips that equation the other way. Very nice, very subtle, and very much in-character for all involved. And I loves me that continuity.

Vince says he'll accept HHH's apology, but only on one condition: that tonight, when Shawn Michaels faces the Spirit Squad, HHH is on stand-by. He's not to interfere till Vince tells him to, but once the word is given, Vince expects HHH to destroy whatever's left of Shawn Michaels. "Do we understand each other?"

HHH stares bullets into Vince for a few tense seconds, but then extends his hand. Vince shakes it, suspiciously at first, but then confidently by the end. And if I'd been the Writer-Monkey-In-Charge, my mind's eye would have known full well to end it there. But instead, they plonk on an awkward tag in which they break the handshake, and then HHH speaks again to say "Oh, we definitely have an understanding." So play Vince's music, and let's move on, I guess....

Cheesy c-movie-ness of the last 10 seconds aside, another mostly-effective segment, I thought. If there's a DX-flavored babyface turn in HHH, I'm glad they're making him work for it, since going back to that persona really will require a full 180-degree turn from what makes him a Cerebral Assassin. And these latest developments also put a little extra stank on our main event for tonight, which is always a good thing,too....

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Crap: Kane's movie is currently in theatres. Don't pretend like you don't know that it is.

Backstage: Tough Questions Todd Grisham has the duty of interviewing Kane. And his main query: "May 19th has come and gone, so how you feeling, big fella?".... Kane's response is that May 19 is the day that his mom and adopted family died in a fire, and every year, he has to repress those demons. But now, May 19 has come and gone. And he has a movie out that's doing well (liar!) and in which he got to kill people in gruesome fashion. And he's got a match tonight where he intends to inflict unspeakable punishment upon his opponent. So to answer Todd's question: "I've never felt happier." Punctuate with a genuinely creepy chuckle and smirk, and that's one hell of a promo. Not just because Kane was spot-on, but because I thought I had just witnessed us nonchalantly sweeping all this May 19 nonsense under the rug, never to be spoken of again.....

John Cena vs. Chris F. Masters (Some Kind of Match)

I had to piece it together later, on the grounds that if I don't fast-forward CFM's ring entrance, I will either fall asleep or be motivated to commit multiple homicides.... but I gather the announced stipulations of this match were that (1) it was non-title, and (2) it was submissions-only. And if they weren't? Just trust me, the match still makes the most sense if you just pretend that they were, so it's no biggie.

Cena's Mixed Reaction Quotient this week? Not so bad. Then again, Masters sucks so bad that I still take that 30% of boos as significant. And plus: a place like Vegas where glitz is prized over substance? A few more Cena Huggers is not a surprising thing. Although I will say that the one sign that caught my eye the whole night was a rabidly anti-Homey one: "We've Cena 'Nuff." 

Match opens with... well, it opens with Masters hitting a pose to indicate that "I am quite the physical specimen." In response to that, Cena makes a big show of removing his shirt to indicate "I also enjoy pharmaceutical supplements." And Masters responds to that by hitting another pose. Oy. Guys, guys, guys: one of you only appeals to the overwhelmingly-homosexual demographic of "guys who subscribe to body-building magazines," and the other of you only appeals to junior-high-aged girls who don't know any better but will outgrow you before they turn 17. So there's plenty of tail to go around for the both of you, and you don't have to be wasting my time fighting over it, OK?

After the tool-off ends, Cena jumpstarts things, and hits a few of his Wacky Moves. This leads to him thinking he should attempt an F-U about 45 seconds into the match. Bad idea. Masters slips out, and blasts Cena with one of the few moves he can execute competently: a stiff forearm to the base of the spine. 

So slobber, knocker, lather, rinse, repeat as CFM tries to sustain a compelling offense. And then all of about 3 minutes into the match, this results in Masters thinking *he* should go for a finisher, and he tries to lock on the full nelson. This leads to one of those moments of Unintentional Comedy that make it so hard to admit to your friends that you're a wrestling fan. CFM hooks one hand under Cena's left armpit to start the hold, and then Cena grabs the hand and proceeds to have a 60-second struggle trying to keep that hand from clasping behind his head. I'm not sure I can adequately describe why this struck me as so funny, but it basically amounts to the fact that if this was a set-piece in a Schwarzenegger movie, it would only have lasted half-as-long, and it probably would have had dramatic cuts and close-ups and stuff, and here, it was just Cena in wide shots spazzing out over stopping this hand that is sort of in the general region of his nipple.

At the end of the whole goofy "must-stop-the-hand" spot, though, they did have a big finish. Cena eventually gained control over the hand, and turned it into a sort-of hip toss out of the ring. And in tossing CFM out of the ring, Cena himself went flying out, too. Credit where it's due: crazy-ass bump by both guys, and it looked sweet. Sweet enough where they deserve the break they're gonna get while we all get subjected to....

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Back, and Cena's in control with a wacky shoulder-tackle, a wacky clothesline, a wacky suplex, and then a wacky STF, and then it's over.

Whoa. I'm not shitting you. It's over just that fast.

Your Winner: John Cena, via submission, in about 5-6 minutes. Just.... I don't even know how to describe it. I promise you, more of this match happened during commercials than happened on TV, and it was just awkward. Not much of what made TV was particularly good, but I guess if there's any one memory to take away from this match, it'd be that coming back from the break and having Cena squash Masters in 30 seconds isn't necessarily a bad thing. Further down the relevance spectrum for you, CFM!

After the Match: Cena is celebrating, but only briefly. Because he is interrupted by the entrance of Rob Van Dam. RVD is again flouting his MitB Briefcase, and to Cena's credit: he recognizes this and doesn't act like he's all stupid and confused. He adopts an alert and defensive posture, because he remembers what happened the LAST time the owner of the Money in the Bank waltzed out after Cena'd just won a match.

But RVD's got a twist for Cena. As Cena is gesturing towards the briefcase -- as if to say "I know you got a title shot, so let's get it on" -- RVD says "Yeah, you're right, I got this title shot. And I had to bust my ass for it and win the ladder match at WrestleMania. Because nobody in this company would ever have given me the opportunity I deserve. I had to make my own opportunity." And furthermore, "So if you think I'm gonna waste this one shot, probably my only shot, here tonight in this ring where somebody would find a way to make sure I get screwed, you're wrong. I'm cashing in my Money in the Bank at ECW One Night Stand, on June 11."

Whoa, you know what I just realized? ECW and Deadwood Season 3 are on June 11. Which means June 11 is now officially the reason why DVR was invented. And unfortunately, my mom's birthday is on June 11, which might mean June 11 is also the reason why Coming Up With Shitty Excuses To Celebrate A Birthday A Night Early was invented, too. We shall have to see....

The gauntlet thrown down, Cena and RVD go into Intense Staredown Mode. Then they go into Intense Back And Forth Muttering While Staringdown Mode. And finally: RVD is the first to unleash with a disrespectful bitchslap to the champion. Then it's back and forth fisticuffsmanship for a few seconds. And then CFM foolishly thinks that he has any business getting involved, and both Cena and RVD sorta duck and send Masters flying back out of the ring. But Masters served another purpose: he did bring RVD's briefcase into the ring with him.

So when Van Dam spots it lying on the mat, he grabs it, tosses it at Cena, and Cena catches it. Moron. Cena also eats a Van Daminator. RVD collects his briefcase and leaves the ring to more cheers than boos. But Lawler does his job and identifies those boos, and harps on them as he plays up his indignation that apparently the WWE Title is now apparently gonna be contested on a show promoted by those goofs from ECW. Me be liking the vibe here. It's not like last year when the WWE vs. ECW storyline was a bit over the top and writer-y.... but instead, there's this bubbling-under feel to it this year that's a bit more genuine and a bit more real, and a bit more reminiscent of things that happened in 1997. And if we're gonna try to make a go out of a new ECW, there's a lot to be said for recreating the same sort of vibe that existed between the WWF and ECW in 1997.

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Backstage Hilarity: For some reason, Carlito and Maria the Mic Stand are now pals. I guess we're just supposed to assume this is Carlito conducting his own research on the whole spit-or-swallow thing from last week? But this week, it's Carlito suggesting that maybe if he sat at a poker table, but then Maria came around and slutted it up to distract the other players, they could make a lot of money. Maria's all "But ain't that cheatin'?" in a way that blows past her usual dumb-but-cute way all the way to just-plain-annoying, but Carlito's intent on making this happen. But then, the pair bumps into Well-Dressed Gene Snitsky, who declares that he's called one of them services, and he's got himself a hot date with a real life Vegas Showgirl. Maria spots an whorishly attired person just off camera and says "I think that's her, Gene." Uh oh.
 
Even though the camera reveals a 6'3" figure wearing a gold (natch) dress, Snitsky proceeds to fondle it from behind while making sweet, sweet smalltalk. Then he goes down. To the feet, I mean. And starts rubbing while continuing on with (and I'm making none of this up): "Hey, maybe we could go see Kane's new movie. I hear it's pretty good. You know, I once killed his unborn fetus, but we're past that now. You like Chinese food?" Master of Conversation, Gene Snitsky, everybody! Shortly after that, Snitsky actually looks up, and realizes what all of America realized 60 seconds ago: that he's massaging Goldust's foot. Goldust is all "What the hell is wrong with you?". And Snitsky is all "I like feet. And frankly: what the hell is wrong with you?". And Goldust is all "I like dressing in women's clothing." And then they sort of shrug at each other, and decide to accept each other's mind-numbing weirdness. Way to be, fellas: it's one thing to make peace with your own strange, inexplicable fetishes, but it's another entirely to make peace with your tag team partner's! Of course, the segment is punctuated by a quick pan back to Carlito and Maria, and Carlito says "I know they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.... but thas? Thas just not cool." A little writer-y, but definitely funny.

Elsewhere Backstage: Triple H is loitering, and he is confronted by Shawn Michaels. Michaels is furious, and for the second time tonight, HHH is mostly mute. HBK does an entire rant about how it never mattered whether he and Hunter were driving up and down the roads together or beating the hell out of each other across the country: he still always respected and understood what drove HHH. But now? Selling out to Vince McMahon? That's the Jesus-approved version of "Bullshit," and Michaels is pissed about it. HHH finally pipes up at that and says he's just doing what he has to do to get by, and.... then Michaels cuts him off with another rant which ends with "I guess you'll do whatever Vince McMahon tells you to do, then, huh?" and then Michaels storms off in a huff. The look on Trips' face? Tells us nothing.

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Kane vs. Trevor Murdoch

Murdoch actually gets some mic work in before the match. In that time, he manages to insinuate that the critics have spoken, and they'll be handing out their awards to Tom Hanks. Um, Trev? The box office RECEIPTS may have spoken in favor of Mr. Hanks, but I have read no document in which somebody possessing the capacity for rational thought awarded a positive review to "The DaVinci Code." Which doesn't really surprise me. It was a very fun "popcorn book," but for some reason I had a feeling it'd make for a less fun "popcorn movie." Could have something to do with the casting of Tom Hanks. Could have even more to do with the fact that -- unlike the much-superior and entertaining Dan Brown book "Angels and Demons," which I wish more people would read if they're gonna be reading this sort of thing -- "The DaVinci Code" didn't have, you know?, an ending. 

Anyway, whatever veracity Murdoch's box office commentary may or may not have had, it supplied enough motivation for Kane to come out and squash him in less than a minute. Nee haw.

Your Winner: Kane, via pinfall, in 60 seconds or less. And that's all I gots to say about that.

After the Match: the announcers are playing up the notion that Kane is demon-free and happier than he's been in months after that ass-whupping when all of a sudden, the lights go red, and the voices start back up again: "May 19, May 19, it'll never be over Kane, May 19." Ugh. The TitanTron has the same visuals from a couple weeks ago, focusing on Kane's old mask. Well, so much for my naive hope that we'd swept the Gay Spooky under the rug after Kane's earlier promo.....

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This Week in Wrestling: ten years ago, Scott Hall made a surprise appearance on Nitro, and in so doing, pretty much created the Monday Night Wars *and* the nWo. I guess if we had to pick something from this week, that's what I'd go with, too. Cuz the only other alternative is to remember that Owen Hart died 7 years ago today, and that's still just too damned sad. Everybody: take a moment at some point today to remember a happier memory of the proudest Slammy Award Winner in history, OK?

Torrie Wilson vs. Mickie James

Wait: so not only do they still have Torrie carrying that fucking Yap Dog, but now she gets insanely shitty new theme music? Plus 10 for it having an adequate amount of cow-bell, minus several million for Just About Everything Else About It. How this makes Torrie a babyface, I'll never now. Then again, how being a petulant wigger makes John Cena a babyface also baffles me. For all I know, WWE's got it right, and I'm the one who's all grumpy and out-of-touch.

Wait, nope, I'm not. Because Paris Hilton and Eminem had their 15 minutes and have long since become punchlines. Instead of socially-relevant, relatable persons.

Oh, you want to know about the match? No, trust me, you don't. It pretty much consisted of Mickie punching and kicking Torrie, since those are the moves that she knows Torrie can sell. It also consisted of all of Torrie's offense looking pretty cheesy, fake, and half-speed (except for one cool leapfrog/roll-up in the corner that was done deliciously crisply). And then, Mickie eventually just hit a DDT, and that was it.
 
Your Winner: Mickie James, via pinfall, in maybe 2 minutes, tops. Not memorable. Not pretty. Just there. Probably as an excuse for what was to follow....

After the Match: Trish Stratus hit the stage. It was OK in Texas for the Cowboy Boots Of Extreme Pandering, but c'mon Trish, you know better than to make capri-length jeans a regular thing, don't you? Of course, I am probably the only person in the world with this specific peeve, so I'll just zip it.... Trish is here to tell Mickie "Don't worry, the days of your ex-friend and my new best friend, Beth Phoenix, attacking you illegally are over." And why are these days over? Because now, Beth Phoenix will be able to attack Mickie legally, as she is the newest official RAW Diva. While Mickie is processing this nugget of info, Beth is sneaking through the crowd to attack Mickie from behind. A brief catfight ensues, and Mickie tries to channel her Inner Foley by just escaping through the crowd. Beth follows. And Trish is spotted up on the stage chuckling about it. 

At this point, I wish I knew what the intentions were here. Because if they want Trish to be a babyface in this, I think they need to let somebody NOT wearing his ass as a hat to fix things. I totally agree with the basic notion that Trish is at her fetchingly-bitchy best when she's got a bit of attitude to her. And if trying to add in some heelish elements to give Trish back that part of her personality is what WWE wants to do, I'm a thousand different kinds of down with it. But you need somebody with a basic grasp on psychology to decide which bitchy things to let Trish do. Only the same fucktards who thought that making Mickie a faux-lesbian "Girl Gone Wild" reject would get her booed could decide that having Trish suddenly plotting against Mickie with a slightly-mannish new best friend would get her cheered. It's enough to make me want to recycle a rant once done by Raven against WWE's policy of hiring writers who've spent more time reading comic books than they've spent talking to girls and having a life. Except that rant was a thinly veiled personal attack on Brian Gewirtz who, to the best of my knowledge, is no longer that closely involved with creative. So I'll just admit to digressing and move on....

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8 Simple Rules for Dating My Lilian

As we come back from the break, Viscera is already in the ring. And he's got a mic.

And apparently, he's got a Major Personal Revelation to make. Because Vis has been thinking about his lifestyle and realized a few things... he doesn't come right out and say it, but I think we can assume these things included "I'm getting older, fatter, and closer to death with every passing day." And at the end of the spiel, he says that he's realized it's time to find himself a good woman and settle down.

And there was never any woman he had finer than Ring Flowerpot Lilian Garcia. Cue the cut-away to Lilian, who does a fine job conveying the appropriate amount of horror. Not horror-laced-with-flattered-bemusement (which I worried about given WWE's usual characterization of women). Just plain horror. 

But Vis is not to be dissuaded, and continues egging Lilian on until she decides to come up in the ring with him (although all visual evidence is to the contrary, Lawler actually *does* go down the route I feared and briefly riffs on how this proves that Lilian is still smitten). By the way, plenty more Mancrush Points to Lilian this week, who continues to confound me by possessing no singular quality that I can put my finger on, but still somehow adding up to being one of the most perfect wholes among the WWE chicks. If nothing else: she could teach Trish a thing or two about how -- if you decide to wear a pair of knee-high boots which force all male viewers to mentally affix the adjective "fuck-me" when seeing them -- you avoid capri-jeans and just rock a skirt. That's style, baby.

Vis tries to continue his allegedly-romantic pandering as Lilian gets in the ring, but there's one thing you oughta know about Lilian: she's the ring announcer. She comes packing her own microphonographic powers! And if you're spewing unmitigated bullshit, she'll call you on it. So she cuts Viscera off in mid-sentence and says "Just cram it, the last time we were in Vegas, you dumped me for a bunch of the Godfather's ho's, and don't think I've forgotten it." YAY~! I can only assume that if she'd been motivated to continue, she'd also have mentioned how it was less than a month ago when Vis Greco-Roman Butt Raped Coach and then seconds later was attempting to bone Titties McSuperbowl. A regular manwhore that guy is!

But Vis tries to plead his case that he's a changed man. Somehow, this involves him suggestively reaching into his pants and pulling out a cheeseburger. Yeah, I don't know either, but this really happened. Something about how he realizes that if he had Lilian and her sweet, sweet cookin', he wouldn't have to eat all these burgers. Or something. I think I understand the innuendo they were going for, but they failed to make it work. But I guess on a TV-14 show, you can't come right out and say, "Lilian, for the sake of my health and for the sake of your physical gratification, I would gladly skip dessert in favor of nibbling on your sweet, sweet pie." Or well: you probably could. The Rock's said worse.

Whatever the case, instead of getting over with the fans, this thing sort of thuds to an anticlimax when Viscera proposes marriage to Lilian. She gets about 5 seconds to again convey the appropriate amount of horror at the thought (JR: "Run for your life, Lilian"), and then.....

Arrrrrrmando Alejandro Estrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrada interrupts.

He's got a minute or so of banter. And in Proof Positive that The Rick called it right, he's got the crowd singing along with him when he finds excuses to roll out the "Arrrrrrrrrrrrmando Alejandro Estrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrada." I told you he was one charismatic bastard.

Once he gets done doing his usually funny slaughtering of a faux-Cuban-accent, the basic point is "It looks like Big Vis, ha ha, is up for some action tonight, ha ha." But instead of rolling around with Lilian, Armando thinks Viscera should try himself a slice of Umaga.

So Umaga comes out, and Lilian powders out (hopefully never having to endure such foulness again), and the unsanctioned brawl is on. Essentially, Umaga no-sells every ounce of fat-man offense Vis tries to bring, proving that he's a monster. And Umaga throws Vis around, tossing him into the various steel implements at ringside.

Two notes on the commentary: (1) calling Umaga "400 pounds" while he's standing next to Vis, who you bill as "500 pounds," is pretty retarded. Both are big boys, yes, and I can only guess at the legit tonnage; but Umaga is not 80% of Viscera. Not even close. And (2) at some point while I was FF'ing all of Umaga's appearances, they changed his nickname. Now he's the "Samoan Bulldozer" instead of the "Samoan Smashing Machine." And I'm sure that somewhere, a slew of TNA fans consider this to be some kind of a moral victory.

The brawl ends when Umaga nails Vis with the Asiatic Spike. Umaga and Estrada leave. 

Crap: Various WWE people went to go see Kane's movie. All of them found at least something vaguely-positive to say about it. How shocking.

Backstage: Triple H is fondling the one true love of his life, Sweet Lady Sledge, in anticipation for some sort of involvement in tonight's main event. And that's what the Spirit Squad barge in and try to make sure that HHH understands exactly what his involvement is to be. Since he was the most-toolish of the bunch, I'm gonna guess it was Mikey who said "Mr. McMahon told us to tell you that you just stand here until he says so. And then you come out and finish Shawn Michaels once and for all, OK?" Then the Squad gets themselves all into a mincing tizzy, cuz it's time to do a cheer: on three, they want a loud "End of HBK" chant! Hands in the middle.... plenty of hilarious suggestive looks towards HHH, and plenty of HHH hilariously rolling his eyeballs, and then eventually one of 'em decides "screw it" and they do "One, Two, Three...... END OF HBK~! YEAH~!" The Squad prances out of the frame, and presumably towards the ring, while HHH continues tonight's act of being mostly mute and inscrutable.

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Shawn Michaels vs. the Spirit Squad (Handicap Match, or Possibly Not A Match At All)

The Squad enters first, and this week they opt to use their funky trampampoline to assist a newly-weenierific choreographed entrance (instead of as a weapon during the match). It's effective either way, says I.

Michaels enters second, this week, armed with a chair, since he should have SOME kind of equalizer, right?

But then Vince McMahon enters third, and stands on the stage while declaring that there's no real need for a ref here tonight. Either Vince flubbed a line, or somebody jumped a cue, but it's never expressly stated what the deal is here: did Vince just turn this into a no-DQ Street Fight sort of a deal? Or did Vince just turn this into Not Any Kind Of A Match where all that mattered was the 5-on-1 beatdown?

The confusion/awkwardness stems from the fact that Vince was still in the middle of his "you can get out of the ring, ref" spiel when the Squad attacked Michaels from behind, jumpstarting things. And for once: they attack Wild Dogs Style (instead of Black Ninja Style). That is to say: they attacked all at once, and immediately overpowered Michaels.

The vagaries of Wild Dog Style don't allow for any cool one-on-one spots (which would be possible under Black Ninja Style), and instead, it's mostly just 4 minutes of punchy-stompy, with tepid HBK Hope Spots (and one High Elevation Fukuoko Toss) thrown in. I'll say this, though: I'm a HUGE fan of this gay little spot the Squad did where four of them got down on all-fours and formed a mini-pyramid, and then the fifth one used that pyramid as a step-ladder to hit a double-jump clothesline on Michaels. Perfect. A cool-looking move, and totally in character, to boot.

But right after that, the Squad's repressed Dumb Ninja tendencies came to the fore: two of them held Michaels. Two others of them stood around doing nothing. And the last one grabbed a steel chair and tried to whack Michaels. What happens? Well, as the chair-guy approaches, Michaels kicks him in the gut. The two other guys release him to act surprised. The two standing-around guys try to attack, but both get back dropped over the rope. Then the two used-to-be-holding-HBK guys try to get involved and also get sent flying out of the ring. Leaving Michaels with just the one chair-wielding guy.

They do Michaels standard Fire-Up Sequence (Flying Burrito, Kip Up, Inverted Atomic, Macho Man Elbow), and then Michaels starts tuning up the band just as the other four Squadders are getting their act together. Michaels manages one superkick on the guy already in the ring. And as the Squad swarms, he lands one more superkick. But then when he goes to KO his third Squadder, Kenny actually intercepts Michaels -- mid-kick -- with a steel chair swat to the knee. Kinda neat spot, actually.

Michaels crumbles, and the Squad starts going to town, focusing all their stomposity on that knee. We're reminded that the knee is yet another one of HBK's body parts that has been SURGICALLY RECONSTRUCTED~! And even if we didn't know that, I think the message gets across plenty well when the Squad decided to rip HBK's man-chaps all the way up to the crotch, revealing a knee brace. And then they took off the knee brace. And then they continued stomping. And then, to cap it all off, they grabbed a chair, and Kenny came off the top rope to Ultra-Pillmanize Michaels' knee. Dicks. 

Crowd was big-time into this, first with "HBK, HBK" chants, and then, once they realized the severity of the situation, with "Trip Uhl Aitch, Trip Uhl Aitch" chants.

At this point, JR is doing a crazy sell-job consisting of "Shawn Michaels leg has to be shattered," and for once, I'm totally down with suspending disbelief in the over-sell. That Pillmanization was rude. Which means this is also the moment when Vince gives the high sign and actually gives permission for HHH to come on out and do whatever it is HHH is gonna do. Cue even more indignant apoplexy from JR, as he speculates about what is about to happen....

HHH hits the stage next to Vince. Pauses. Locks eyes with Vince. Fondles Lady Sledge. And slowly walks towards the ring.

In the ring, the creative-minded Squad have once again positioned Michaels' leg inside a steel chair for another Pillmanization. Kenny's gesturing indicates that he would appreciate it if HHH would get on the top rope and use the sledge to deliver a super-duper-mega-atomic-Pillmanization. HHH's response back: "Get that thing off his leg and pick him up so I can just bash him in the skull and be done with it." Well, he doesn't actually say that, but he conveys it non-verbally, and the Squad complies.

So for the second week in a row, somebody's propping Michaels up, and HHH is supposed to whack HBK in the face with a sledge. The crowd doesn't want it to happen, and is chanting "DX, DX." HHH actually appears conflicted. At least long enough for Kenny to get upset and sneak in from off-camera to take the sledge, saying "I'll do it myself, dammit." Up on the stage, Vince applauds the aggressiveness. Seems he doesn't care who does it, he just wants Michaels' head reduced to mush.

So Kenny preens and poses with the sledge, and when he finally charges towards Michaels, he has to stop short, because HHH is standing in his path. HHH no likey being upstaged by punks! And Kenny no likey HHH delaying the end of Shawn Michaels! So the two have words, and eventually, Kenny takes a brief personal inventory and discovers he's actually in possession of something very rare in the world of male cheerleading: functioning male genitalia! Suddenly ballsy, Kenny raises the sledge and charges, with bad intentions, directly at HHH.
 
HHH is a crafty veteran, however, and saw it coming all the way. He counters that into a spinebuster on Young Kenneth. Then he has 4 other fish to fry, as the Squad realize they must try to defend their fallen brother. They all fail miserably. The other four all get tossed out of the ring. And then Kenny -- golden boy of the Squad that he is -- is singled out for special treatment: he gets a Pedigree in the middle of the ring.

Play HHH's music! You can tell Vince does not approve. But HHH also didn't do anything except to defend himself, so (1) Vince still has no real play in terms of punishing HHH, and (2) HHH still hasn't really tipped his hand, cuz he's just reacting to circumstances, not revealing true motivations. Very nice. That's how you do cliffhangery episodic television. The final images number three: there's the one of Michaels crumpled in a corner with a broken knee, then there's one of Triple H looking inscrutable-but-secure-that-he-did-what-he-had-to-do, and then there's Vince McMahon looking pissed. Take that, throw in everything that preceded it (especially that kick-ass opening segment), and RAW adds up to one big ol' Looking Forward To Next Week. 

Oh, and Your Winner: Nobody. Cuz I guess this just wasn't a match at all to begin with. Still an effective 10 minute brawl, though, which had an intriguing ending. I'll take it.