by The Immolator
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

DAG, YO. The Immolator here, squashing your SD! jones for the first time here on the Double-O. Count to five!

This may be the first time ‘round for many of you with The Immo. So here’s a quick introduction.

Hi. I’m The Immolator. Pleased to meet’cha.

There. Now that that’s out of the way… it’s time… once again… to reach down and grab…

THE IMMOLATOR’S GIANT SACK of mail. Here’s a letter from a certain “K. Creary” from Part Unknown, probably a T-Dot expatriate, who has the following to say about my most recent Heat recap.

Why are the upset Raptors fans at Maple Leaf Gardens?  MLG is a (somewhat vacant) hockey arena.  The Raptors (and the Leafs) play their home games at the Air Canada Centre.  And in case you were going to say, "Well, 3 years ago they didn't...", the Raptors used to play at  the SkyDome.

Dang! Sorry, bro, The Immo’s getting a little soft in the head in his old age. I still occasionally catch myself saying “Minnesota North Stars” and “Phoenix Roadrunners” instead of Dallas and Coyotes. But not too soft to forget the Raptors played at MLG a handful of times. And that the first ever NBA game took place there, between the Toronto Huskies and the Knicks. I think Patrick Ewing started at centre for New York…

Then you mention Aaron from Tough Enough, and how he's ok after his heat exhaustion.  Sometime in here, I believe your attention span expires, as you say Robert and "some other guy" got cut.  "Some other guy" = Aaron.  

Shows you how many rat’s behinds I give about TE2.

Forceable is a word.  It's an adjective, look it up.  

Indeed, “forceable” appears to be some deviant Yankee spelling of “forcible.” Ah, how I love my neighbours to the south. Even if they don’t understand the allure of curling.

Finally, your whining about not ordering the PPV really got to me.  If you didn't want to watch it, fine.  But don't sit there and say how you were thinking about it, and you wanted to, didn't want to, etc...  and then say it came down to $45 being too expensive.  First, of all, $45 Canadian is a deal, US viewers paid $40 US.  

[spit take]

40 bucks?!? Sweet Jaysis!

Secondly, if you're out of college (which you allude to), you should be able to afford that.  If not, I suggest a few solutions:

1.  Get a job.
2.  Make a friend, split the cost.  Hell, make two friends.
3.  You're a college grad with Internet access and a dish, and you haven't figured out how to steal programming from it yet?

1. I’ve got a job, and it’s a good one. Even better than all those years I spent DJing at strip bars.

2. If I had friends, I wouldn’t have time to watch SD!, let alone recap it.

3: I have a Bell ExpressVu dish, for which no smart cards have been made as of the last time I checked with Joey Numbers.

Of course I could have afforded WMX8… I’ve got a gold card! BOO-yah! Mashed potatoes! But I wanted to illustrate the struggle… the struggle between loving wrestling and being willing to shell out for a PPV that looked like it was booked on a napkin the night before.

Sorry, had to do this.  I'm an asshole.

Yeah, but you like Steve Blackman, so you’re off the hook.

All right, time to tuck in my giant sack and get to work.

We start Smackdown! with a video look back at the huge pops Hogan got in T-Dot and Montreal. Hogan looks all “Why are you idiots cheering for me? After all the crap I’ve done?” Good ol’ JR says, “This war has just begun!” The way things are going, they’ll probably put the nWo on SD! and Hogan on RAW.

Theme up! Pyro! Sparkly lights! We are taped! at the Corel Centre in Ottawa (Kanata, actually), Ontario, Canada! My old stomping grounds! Patty’s Pub! CKCU-FM! Barbarella’s! Aw, I’m getting’ all misty-eyed…

Your hosts are the unctuous MICHAEL COLE and the Humbert Humbert of the WWF,  JERRY “THE KING” LAWLER. Right off the bat, here’s the moving chyron to tell us our main event is Rock v. Nash. Second off the bat is the music of KURT ANGLE and the requisite chant. Angle takes a headset at ringside while we look back video-wise at RAW and Edge’s win over Angle, assisted by Kane.

Can U Dig it? BOOKER T (w/out THE MG’S) is in the hizzouse. Big pyro! And his opponent… roll out the fog machines, it’s The Thin EDGE. Ack! STROBE LIGHTS! EPILEPTIC SEIZURE! HAGHAAHFAFAFGGHAHAFGHHHAFF!!! Man, that’s worse than that Wang Chung video. “Forceable [sic] Entry” available next Tuesday! Angle says he’s homiez with Booker.

Let’s wrestle. Collar-and-elbow, T with the knee lift. Chop (WOOO!) by T as he starts laying into Edge in the corner. Irish Whip to the far corner, reversed by Edge, Edge charges, T gets the legs up, but Edge slides under the ropes and trips T up from behind. Edge climbs the turnbuckles… flying clothesline! Two count only from referee TEDDY “PEANUTHEAD” LONG. Punch by T. Angle says he will be drafted Number One. Hey, just like Alexandre Daigle! Irish by T, Edge puts on the brakes and grabs T, then gives him the reverse backbreaker like a good Canadian. Two count. Punches by Edge. Irish, clothesline (T slowed down for some reason on the rebound, made it look a bit awkward), two count. Irish by Edge, reversed by T, and Booker immediately hits a back elbow on the reversal. Cole says maybe The Rock or Hogan should be the top pick.

KA:  “You're going to compare me to The Rock and Hulk Hogan? Shame on you, Michael Cole.”

Booker hits a clothesline on Edge.

KA:  “All right, Booker T! Y’all going to make me lose my mind up in here!”

MC:  “What the hell are you talking about?”

Booker works Edge over in the corner while Kurt does his best worst Slick impersonation. Snap mare by T into a chinlock. Edge Edges up and elbows T in the gut a couple of times. T responds with a clubbing blow to the back of the head. T with the Irish Whip to the far corner… Edge reverses, follows in, and eats the back elbow. T charges out of the corner… flapjack by Edge. Both men are somewhat stunned. Edge with a series of rights and an inverted atomic drop. Yoicks! ME PLUMS! Clothesline off the ropes by Edge! Off the ropes again… flying forearm! Edge picks him up, Irish, ducks the head, eats the boot.  Kurt inquires who let the dogs out. T goes for a chop, but Edge ducks and hits his half nelson faceplant. Edge goes to the top! Kurt doesn’t like it, no sir. He leaves his commentary position and gets on the apron to deal with Edge. But the cagey Torontonian kicks him off, sending him a-tumbling down to the floor. Cross body onto Angle! Big pop! Edge back into the ring, ducks a clothesline attempt, but T connects with a side thrust kick to the gut. Off the ropes, going for the axe kick… Edge moves! Edge-O-Matic! One… Two… no! T kicks out. Edge with a boot to the gut… going for the Impaler… T blocks it. Arm wringer, going for the big thrust kick… Edge ducks, and T nails Teddy Long right in the mush! SPEAR! Edge covers, but the ref is out. Angle takes advantage with a clothesline on the unsuspecting former Sexton and hits the Angle Slam. The crowd is displeased! Angle bails while Long and the two combatants struggle to their feet. AXE KICK! Long counts 1… come on, come on… 2… sell that kick, Peanuthead… 3! (4:30) Welcome the return of the precise completion time. Angle is happy for his homey. Hey, a DVDA sign! Waitaminnit… SPINAROONIE! Here’s a replay for those with really poor short-term memory. Good match.

In the bowels of the Corel Centre, Hogan… is… TAKING A STROLL! Big Hogan chant, perhaps canned, who knows. Uh-oh, Hogan just bumped into Vinnie Mac.

VKM:  “Well, I'll be damned! Why, it's the Hulkster! It's the icon! It's the Immortal Hulk Hogan! [crowd cheers] By the way, pal, just for the record, just for the record, I invesnted sports entertainment and just for the record, I made YOU. I don’t want to talk about the past, but, listen, every time you go into business for yourself, you fall flat right on your red and yellow a(bleep). So you and turning your back on this nWo stuff, that's not cool, BROTHER. But you know me. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. I hold in the palm of my hand the Number One draft choice this Monday, and I got to know, I want to know, if you, Hulk Hogan, I want to know if you want to be my Number One draft choice. I don't need an answer tonight. I want you to think about it. I want you to think about what it would be like, Vince McMahon and Hulk Hogan working together, you taking -- you taking direction from me and not going into business of your own. [BOO!] Think it over. You take the night off and think about it. How's that?”

HH:  “Y’know, if it's all the same to you, inVINCEible, I will think about it. But I also think I'll hang around.”

Big pop from the Ottawa Hulksters as Hogan walks on and Vince ponders the meaning of what just happened. Or maybe he’s just admiring the decor down in the bowels of the Corel Centre. Home of the Senators, baby! Who just lost to the Rangers. Frig. End of segment.

Good SD! so far. We have the Booker-Edge feud building with the Angle angle thrown in, and we finally have the first face-to-face between Vinnie Mac and the Hulkster. And no annoying 20-minute speech to start the show. I expect an upswing in the quality of the shows after the split. Well, on RAW, at least.

When we return, we are in the offices of FAAROOQ & BRADSHAW, THE APA. There are many cans of Molson Export on the card table. That is one of the most vile beers we have up here, a pale imitation of the Oland Export beer brewed in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Still, just like the Return of the Killer Tomatoes… product placement. Let’s watch.

F:  “Aw, you got me man… straight flush!”

B:  “WHAT?!”

F:  “Yeah. Hit me up. Five dollars. Come on, man. Pay me, man!”

Bradshaw h’aint got the dough, but apparently, he sees someone off-camera who might be able to bail his Berkeshire-Hathaway tuckus out.

B:  “Hey, come here. Come here! Willie! C’mere, Willie! Slick Willie! … I need five dollars! Fivers, as they say in the Queen's Country.”

It’s the three-piece suit-wearin’ son-of-a-gun himself, WILLIAM REGAL.

WR:  “A fiver? So that you can take it to the local strip show and stick it down the knickers of some lowly tart?”

B:  “Yeah! Yeah, exactly.”

WR:  “ Well, maybe, but  d’y’know, I'm really going to miss your wonderful repartee.”

F:   “Man, what the hell are you talking about?”

WR:  “You know about the draught, don't you?”

F:  “The draft? Oh, we've already been drafted.”

WR:   “Wha? Pardon?”

F:  “Well, I was drafted by the Cleveland Browns…

B:  “And me by the L.A. Raiders. We also like draft beer, cold, with alcohol.”

WR:  “No, I mean, the draught on Monday night. Let's face it, you, my dear Bradshaw, you could be draughted by Mr. McMahon and you, my dear Faarooq, you could be draughted by Mr. Flair, so technically, that would mean the APA would be… out of business.”

F:  “Damn, man. He's right.”

B:  “You know, he is right. But the good news is, if Faarooq were picked by one show and I was picked to be on the other show, then one of us would be on the same show as you, so, technically, the APA could continue kicking your royal a(bleep)! HAHAHAHAHAHA…

WR:  “How charming. Good day, gentlemen.”

B:  “SEE ya'! “

Regal, exeunt stage right.

B:  “Hey! By the door! You wouldn't do that at Buckingham Palace!”

F:  “(something unintelligible, perhaps about blowing goats)”

B:  “Were you raised in a barn? MOOOO!”

Regal uses the APA door.

WR (muttering under his breath):  “You should try walking upright, you bloody cave beast.

Regal looks up, and sighs in resignation at the beaming bicuspids of DIAMOND DALLAS PAGE.

DDP:  “Regal! It's me, D… D… P. And you know, man, I can't help but wonder why you keep bringing up all the bad things that could happen as a result of this draft. Are you mad at something? Oh! [dope slap] Could it be because you lost your Intercontinental championship at WrestleMania in front of 68,296 people? Who all saw you walk out a loooooooserrrrr!”

WR:  “My dear fellow, perhaps I'm mad, because a grinning bloody idiot likes you holds a European championship, a title that I once held with honour, so I tell you what, why don't you put your European championship on the line against me tonight and I can get out some of this aggression and anger that's making me so bloody mad, Sunshine!”

DDP:  “Great! SOOper! MARvelous! That way, once I beat you, you'll forget all about losing the Intercontinental championship. And, Regal: that's not a bad thing. That's a good thing.”

Priceless. And speaking of DDP, here’s his old tag team partner, Vinnie Vegas. Now known, of course, as That Guy Who Got Lucky with Chae, KEVIN NASH. looks sleepy drunk, like he spent all night in the Champagne Room. Off camera, we hear the voice of his l’il buddy, another former protégé of DDP, SCOTT HALL.

SH:  “Big Kev, Smackdown! debut tonight. Nash-Rock. I'm so sick of that punk, that smirky smile. He tells everybody ‘Just bring it.’ Why don't you bring seven-foot-330 down to the ring and show him who The Great One is.

KN:  “You're right! You're right! I will bring it! I'll do what Hogan couldn't do at WrestleMania. Tonight I'll kick The Rock's a(bleep)!

Hall nods approvingly and fondles his toothpick as we go to commercial. Hmm, short segment there. I hope that means we’re in for a long match later.

Again, very simple, further the storyline with the draft, give some people some airtime, make the sponsors happy… very effective. Man, I could go for an Oland Export right now. Or an Alpine. Sadly, I’m on the wrong coast. But at least I can go grab a Keith’s, now available across the nation. YES! Sweet nectar of the gods.

Back at The House Bruce Firestone Built, it’s the lousy new music of LITA as one-half of my all-time favourite tag team (with Dawn Marie) makes her black-lit appearance. Speaking of tremendous combos, here’s Ontario’s own TRISH STRATUS. Yowza.

Smackdown! is brought to you by Quaker State, adidas and truth. And now, more ta-ta’s. IVORY is here, and she’s looking… bountiful today. Whoa, momma. Maybe Dr. James Andrews has a side venture in augmentations. And her partner, the champeen, JAZZ, who looks like she can crack coconuts with her thighs.

Let’s wrestle! Trish and Ivory begin. Collar-and-elbow, Ivory with the side headlock, cinches it in a bit, then moves into a couple of arm wringers. Hammerlock now on that left arm. Trish escapes with a back elbow. Ivory recovers and connects with a boot to the gut. Three forearms across the back. DANG those knockers are huge. Irish Whip by Ivory, ducks the head, eats the boot. Small package by Trish gets a count of one from that one referee I still don’t recognize. Boots by Ivory, who then works over Trish in the corner. Irish to the far corner by Ivory, but Trish jumps onto the second ropes and hits a reverse cross body! Jazz makes the save for her partner. A boot by Ivory, then a Bodyslam and a tag to the women’s champion. HYOOGE legdrop by Jazz. Two count only. Jazz does her Laila Ali impersonation, then coldcocks Lita off the apron for good measure. While Lita comes in and the ref deals with her, the heels each grab one of Trish’s legs and slap on a double half crab. Cool. Ivory leaves the ring. Jazz with a resounding chop (WOOO!) and again, then works her over in the corner. Irish to the far corner. CHARGE! Nope, Trish moves out of the way of the avalanche attempt and Jazz eats the turnbuckle (no, not like George Steele). Both women down. Trish makes the tag to Lita, and she is allowed in despite the fact she was standing on the second rope. A complete miscarriage of justice! Lita clotheslines Jazz and knocks Ivory off the apron. Another clothesline on Jazz. And another on Ivory as she charges into the ring. This is good stuff. Dropkick on Jazz. Boot to the gut of ivory, Irish, reversed, Ivory tries the side pick-up, but Lita Pillmans her over with the head scissors. Clothesline attempt on jazz, but she ducks and nails a Hot Shot (a bit sloppy). Lita stumbles toward her corner, dazed, and Trish tags herself in. Trish to the top! Flying (well, plummeting) cross body on Jazz! But Ivory makes the save, and knocks Lita to the floor again before she can get back in the ring. The two heels do the two-step over Trish’s back. Double Irish Whip… Trish ducks the double clothesline attempt… Lita trips up Ivory from the floor, and Trish kicks Jazz in the head. Tornado Trish Bulldog! 1-2-3! (4:16) The faces get the win. Damn, that was the best women’s match I’ve seen in a while. May have benefited from some editing, I’m not sure. Trish’s music plays. Lita comes in and Trish raises her arm. All’s well in Lipstick Land, this time.

Cut to a close-up of the I-C strap. It’s backstage interview time, once again, with LILIAN GARCIA and her inhaling interviewee, ROB VAN DAM.

LG:  “Rob, congratulations on your huge victory at WrestleMania, becoming the new WWF Intercontinental champion.

RVD:  “Thanks. And in front of 70,000 RVD fans. That was cool.”

LG:  “Well, now that the WWF is heading into a brand extension, I wanted to get your thoughts on the draft this Monday night and where do you think you're going to end up? I mean, do you think it's going to be with Ric Flair on RAW or with Mr. McMahon on Smackdown!?”

RVD:  “Hey, whatever. Of course they're both going to want me to make their show better, right? Whether it's on Monday nights or on Thursday nights, it's all good. No matter where I go, I'm still going to be… Rob… Van… Dam!”

I think his mic skills are actually deteriorating. Too much bluntz! Actually, it was just too much acting. “What-EV-er!” End of segment.

Again, a little TV time, and push that brand extension. Works like a charm for all involved.

Once we’re back, it’s the Whack of the Night, brought to you by Laramie brand cigarettes. Menthol Moose says: Come up and smoke me! But not if you’re a teen. It’s BROCK “SHRUNKEN HEAD GUY” LESNAR putting the kibosh Monday on everything that moved.

The overly dramatic and non-English theme of William Regal plays while Cole discusses Lesnar. People are waving royally in the crowd. Cool. Aaaaaaand, from the Jersey shore, it’s he, it’s he, it’s DDP. Smile when you say that, son. This match for the Euro.

Collar-and-elbow, Regal with the side headlock, DDP with punches to the ribs and a shove to escape. Regal hits a shouldertackle off the ropes. A series of covers by Regal for one. Euro uppercut. Forearms in the corner. Irish to the far corner, reversed by DDP. Regal goes back-first into the corner and bounces out, and gets back body dropped a-wayyyy up in the air. Page with punches and an Irish. Regal ducks a left-arm clothesline, but Page hits him with the right when Regal turns around. Punch, Irish, reversed by Regal, goes for the hip block, DDP hangs on. Knee to the gut, reverse neckbreaker by DDP. Two count from another ref I don’t know. DDP goes for the Cubic Zirconium Cutter… shoved into the ropes by Regal. Headbutt to the gut by Regal. Off the far ropes, nasty knee to the head flattens DDP. Wave to the nice people. Cover, and a two count only. So he covers him again, for two. Persistent little bugger. Stomps by Regal. DDP fights back with punches to the gut. And the head. Regal falls, but a nice reverse drop toe-hold takes DDP to the mat, and Regal nails him in the back of the head with some forearms. Picks him up, front facelock, suplex by Regal. Cover for two. Euro uppercut. Half-cobra slam thingy. Cover for two. Regal stomps away at DDP in the corner. Wave to the people again while we miss DDP and his ritual pull-himself-up-out-of-the-corner spot. DDP throws Regal into the corner and peppers him with punches and chops (WOOO!) Irish to the far corner and a big clothesline by DDP. Boot to the gut… sit out power bomb! Two-and-a-half! DDP picks Regal up, knee to the gut, DDT by DDP. Here’s the cover… no! CHRISTIAN drags DDP off Regal from under the bottom rope. Now he gets on the apron, but DDP clocks him back to the floor before the ref has a chance to realize what’s going on. While Christian jaws with the ref, you know it, Power of the Punch! Regal Stretch! DDP is out, the ref calls for the bell. (3:54) Ladies and germs, William Regal is your NEW Euro champ. Christian celebrates giddily on the outside while Regal waves. Replay shows that HE’S GOT KNUCKLE DUSTERS! He’s also got some serious welts on his chest. WOOO!

Kids… don’t try this at home. Recapping, I mean. Leave it to the professionals. You could get carpal tunnel syndrome, or worse… a split infinitive. Oh, yeah, and no wrestling at home, either. End of segment.

Yeah, I feel weird typing WOOO! without the “h” like it is pronounced, but Ric Flair spells it this way, and he is The Man.

I’m sick of The Rock and his damn movie. Rocky shoved down our throats 24/7, it makes me ill. He’s a great performer, but c’mon. Speaking of great performers, that Kelly Hu is one major babe. But I still ain’t going to the damn movie, no matter how many times you reshoot.

Speaking of which, on the rebound, shill that special Rock magazine! Ugh. We’re at the Centre Corel Centre in beautiful Ottawa (Kanata), Ontario, Canada. Actually, it’s a mega-city now. Orleans, Gloucester, Nepean… yes, even Bells Corners. Or, as we call it, “Bells @#$%in’ Corners.” BFC for short.

Get ready for CHRIS JERICHO! To a heel pop, as well. I wonder how much of that is canned. Speaking of cans… yup, STEPHANIE follows. Cole says, if HHH pins Steffi OR Chris, Steffi leaves the WWF. Damn. I’m gonna miss that billion-dollar booty. If not her wonderful repartee. Let’s listen!

CJ:  “Go ahead! Enjoy it! That's what you all wanted to see, right? It's what you all paid to see, Chris Jericho without the undisputed championship!  So enjoy it. Soak it up! Take it all in! You know why? Because it's not going to last! Because on Monday night, when Stephanie and I team up in a handicap match against Triple H for the undisputed championship, I'm going to beat The Game, and I'm going to retake what is mine and there is absolutely nothing that any of you jackasses can do about it!”

The crowd boos! The Immolator wonders why you can say “jackasses” but not “ass.”

CJ:  “Triple H may have robbed me from my championship on WrestleMania, but you people will not rob me of my dignity! You people will not rob me of my self-respect!”

JL:  “Keep your chin up!”

CJ:  “In case you need a reminder, the man who beat The Rock and Steve Austin on the exact same night, it was Chris Jericho! Yeah! Yeah! And the man who put Triple H out of action for eight long months that was Chris Jericho! And the man, the ONLY man who can say he was the very first undisputed champion in history, it was Chris Jericho!!!”

Jericho takes a moment to compose himself. His face is flush, almost the same colour as that outfit he’s wearing.

CJ:  “Hunter beat me on a fluke, but the reality is he is terrified of Chris Jericho. He is absolutely scared to death of Chris Jericho, and I'll tell you the reason why. Why else would he insist on having his very own wife be my partner in the handicap match? Huh? I'll tell you why. I'll tell you why. Because he knows he cannot beat me twice. But he also knows that if he beats either me or you (point to Steph), then Stephanie has to leave the World Wrestling Federation and it's not going to happen! [HUGE crowd pop] It's not going to happen because I will not allow such a terrible tragedy to happen!”

The Corel Centre crowd tries to break out into the classic refrain from Steam’s “Na Na Hey Hey (Kiss Him Goodbye),” but they can’t quite get it together.

CJ:  “Yeah, right, you know, we need Stephanie McMahon! We all need Stephanie McMahon in the World Wrestling Federation!”

SM:  “You need me!”

JL:  “I need you!”

Well, here to crash the party is HHH himself. Major pop! He’s wearing his Iron Cross tank top and sports both belts. Why are there still two belts?

CJ:  “You know what? I'm glad you came out here, Hunter, because on Monday, I'm going to finish off your leg, finish off your career and finish off The Game!

HHH:  “First of all, Jericho, Liberace called and said he wants his pyjamas back. Second, did I hear you say we need Stephanie McMahon? Who knows? You know what? After thinking about it, maybe you're right. Maybe the World Wrestling Federation can never have enough lying, whining, conniving b(bleep). I mean, after all, with all the things she's contributed, I tell you what, let's take a look at all the contributions that Stephanie McMahon has made to the World Wrestling Federation.”

Video hilarity ensues. It’s “Stephanie’s Most Embarrassing Moments” on the FistTron. Austin sprays her with mustard. You know, she looked fine without the enlarged bazoomas. Trish pours chocolate syrup on her in lieu of animal waste. Beer shower. Enhancement humour. Steffi loses her top on the beer vendor tray. Hives. Pie in the face. It’s milk! It’s milk! And, yes, Rikishi backs that ass up.

Back in the ring, Y2J is shielding Steffi’s eyes from the horror, the horror.

HHH:  “You're right. Stephanie has been a barrel of laughs. Maybe we should ask again, who here thinks that Stephanie should stay in the World Wrestling Federation? [BOO!] Who here thinks that Stephanie should leave?”

The crowd pops big time and breaks immediately into the NA NA NA NA’s. Sign in the crowd: “IS THIS THE HOCKEY GAME EH?”

SM:  “Stop singing!! Stop singing!!! You don't even know what you need! You need ME! [HEY hey-ay, GOOD-BYE!]

HHH:  “Well, I guess that settles that. As far as you go, Jericho, unlike my soon to be ex-wife, at WrestleMania, you did earn my respect. And you're right. The one thing that nobody can ever take away from you is the fact that you were the first ever undisputed World Wrestling Federation champion. But, Chris, that doesn't mean you're the best. You see, you into WrestleMania thinking that you were unbeatable, that you were the immoveable object, but what you didn't take into consideration was that you were coming up against the unstoppable force. This Monday night will be no different. After I defeat you and Stephanie in this handicap match on RAW, I will still be the undisputed World Wrestling Federation champion! And Stephanie will be gone from the World Wrestling Federation. Because, Chris, WrestleMania was the start of a whole new game. And this Game is forever.”

SM:  “You know, you really couldn't be more wrong. You think I haven't contributed to the World Wrestling Federation? Well, I've got a big surprise for you. Because come this Monday night, you won't be leaving RAW the undisputed WWF champion, and neither will Chris Jericho.”

MC:  “What?” Jericho’s facial expression echoes that sentiment.

SM:  “See, because I talked to my daddy and I talked him into changing our little handicap match. And no longer will Chris Jericho and I be teaming up to face you. Instead, the match will be Chris Jericho versus Triple H versus ME, Stephanie McMahon in a triple threat match for the undisputed WWF championship!”

Oh, joy. One last kick at the can, you might say. Crowd boos lustily.

SM:  “And, while Hunter, I know that it will be an incredible embarrassment for you to lose that title to Chris Jericho, it would be the ultimate humiliation for you to lose it to me. Not only will I not be leaving the World Wrestling Federation, but this Monday night, I’ll be leaving RAW the first ever FEMALE undisputed World Wrestling Federation champion!”

Play her music! And watch her strike a pose as she does the “I’m taking the belt” motion. Yum. Jericho’s got a look on his face like they didn’t tell him about this backstage. Heh heh… end of segment.

Well, let the smarks rage, but you have to admit, it’s an interesting twist. Me, I’m still waxing nostalgic over hearing the Montreal crowd sign the NA NA song. It’s been a while. Thank God for Andre Savard.

When we come back, Jericho is backstage, still trying to figure out what just happened. Our intrepid Lilian Garcia is on the scene. Take it away, Lilian.

LG:  “Excuse me, Chris, I couldn't help but notice your peculiar reaction to Stephanie’s announcement. What are you thinking?”

CJ:  “Peculiar? You're peculiar. What do you mean, what am I thinking? I think the question is, what is Stephanie thinking? What does she have up her sleeve? Now she made this match a triple threat. So that means, if she pins Triple H, she becomes the champion. If she pins me, she becomes the champion… [light bulb] But… if I pin Stephanie… I become the champion.”

Yeah, Y2J likes that scenario. He chuckles and leaves.

The vaguely-Asian music that sounds just like one of those Henry Mancini instrumentals means it’s time for TAJIRI and, oh my goodness, TORRIE WILSON. She is wearing a simple black top with electric pink pants, and they are lowwwww-cut. And very snug. Oh my.

Test, test, this is a TEST of my will to continue watching wrestling. Ah, just kidding, he’s not so bad. Cole plays him up as a potential top draft pick. Sha-hah. Zif. Chris Benoit will be at the box office in KC for Backlash. Cool.

It’s clobberin’ time! Test right away with a knee to the gut. Punches. Irish by Test, clothesline attempt ducked, Tajiri hits with a leg lariat. Already to the top! But Test lunges himself over the top rope and Tajiri gets crotched. Test punches and kicks away at the wincing Tajiri until he falls down to the mat. Nash-like offence in the corner. Lawler salivates over Torrie. Irish to the far corner, followed in with a big clothesline. And again. Short-arm clothesline. Cover for two from referee JIM KORDERAS who is Canadian, too. Biased referee! Body slam by Test. Off the ropes… flying elbowdrop misses. Tajiri kicks, and punches, and gets a knee to the gut from Test. Irish by Test, Tajiri slides between the legs and goes for a kick, but Test catches the foot. Test spins Tajiri around and tries a clothesline, but Tajiri ducks. WHAM back thrust kick to the mush. Both men are down. Let’s look at the Replay. I think that’s a new design, with the replay window up op and the live action in a tiny window on the bottom. I don’t like it: too much empty space.

Back to the not live action. Tajiri taking it to test in the corner. Irish Whip, reversed, Tajiri tries to evade by grabbing the top ropes and jumping up, but Test catches him in a shoulder carry. Gonna try Snake Eyes in the other corner… nope, Tajiri slips off and shoves him in. Kick to the gut… MAJOR tornado DDT! One… Two… No! Test kicks oot. “Do it again,” says Torrie. Irish to the corner, Test reverses, CHARGE! Don’t do it, Test! Didn’t you scout this ahead of time? Silly Test. Tarantula for you. Big pop! Tajiri lets go at three again. Off the ropes… sunset flip. Test sits down, but Tajiri bridges out from under Test. Ewww. There’s no way to do that without getting a crotchful. Back kick to the skull! Yee-owtch! Here we go, Tajiri is clapping and setting up his finishing kick… but Test ducks. Leg trip. Now Test is signalling for the Big Boat. Tajiri ducks! Back thrust kick to the head! Irish by Tajiri, reversed… HEAVY METAL ELBOW… CAUGHT by Test into a full nelson and a slam. AHsuma PAWA!!! Two count only! Test is about to have a hissy fit on Korderas, but Torrie is up on the apron to shout instructions to her charge. Test grabs her by the hair and shoves her off the apron. BOO! Kick to the head by Tajiri! One… Two… Crap! Test kicks oot again. The crowd is alive (or canned) for this one now. Chop (WOOO!) by Tajiri. Irish, reversed immediately into a boot-to-the-gut. Test sets up for a power bomb… but Tajiri lands on his feet. Clothesline attempt by Test is ducked. Tajiri off the ropes… and SMACK into the Big Boat. That’s it. (3:52) Pretty good stuff. Someone from Newfoundland and Labrador in the crowd. Heel pop for Test as Torrie holds her jaw in shock/disbelief/carb depletion.

Somewhere in the back, Vinnie Mac is with Hall and Nash. And Vinnie Mac now has a shiner on his left eye. Did he have that before? Rewind to the Hogan bit…  yes, he did. Hmmm… wonder who clocked him this time. Let’s listen as Vinnie Mac sizes up Nash.

VKM:  “He looks ready.”

SH:  “He looks ready to me, boss.”

VKM:  “Y’know, I’ve got a feeling that tonight, I’ve got a feeling tonight that the nWo is going to make a statement. Kevin Nash versus The Rock. Yeah, you know what? I've got a feeling that tonight I got a feeling that Kevin Nash is going to step into the ring with the Brahma Bull and the Brahma Bull is going to be castrated.”

SH:  “Boss, about the draft on Monday...”

VKM:  “Oh, yeah, oh yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you guys. On the draft, I've arranged it so that the nWo is drafted as a unit, all of you. And by the way, I assure you, that Ric Flair doesn’t want any more nWo poison.”

Hall and Nash slip each other some skin to end that bit. Speaking of skin, fine flesh abounds in the Divas Swimsuit Issue. That was about the least attractive picture of Lita they could have used in that as, I must say. Sharmell looks extra fine, of course. End of segment.

During the ad break, Kevin Kelly lets us know RAW is at the Air Canada Centre (not MLG) on May 13^th already. Smackdown! at the Molson Centre (not The Forum) the next day. I guess Vince knows a hot territory when he sees one.

And now, the WWF Burn of the Night, brought to you by more bodybuilding supplements that don’t work. Eat less and exercise. The Burn is the brand extension. Unless the brand belongs to Terry Funk, there’s no burn. Lawler says the black eye is from Ric Flair on Monday.

Stand back! In the middle of my room, I did not hear from you! It’s THE HURRICANE, once again flying solo. It’s an inter-gender match, says Tony Chimel. Let’s go back to WMX8 where Hurricane swings in and knocks down Spike with the sheer force of his Hurrisenses to become hardcore champion. Then Molly introduces Hurricane to Mr. Frying Pan. CLANG! Unfortunately for Molly, she walks into the top half of a door, as swung by Christian, who goes through the bottom part of the door and pins Molly before making haste. Which bring us to this match and the entrance of MIGHTY MOLLY. She’s mighty mighty.

Hurricane mimics the frying pan incident and says “WHAZZUPWITDAT?!” Molly does the universal “I wanted the title belt” motion. “BOULES,” says a sign in the crowd. Got that right. Immo’s got boules the size of pamplemousses! Molly extends a hand of friendship. SUKCER! Molly kicks ‘Cane in the gut and we’re off. “Never trust a blonde,” warns Lawler. Molly goes for a boot, but Hurricane catches it, spins her around, and applies the choke! Arm over the shoulder! No, ‘Cane wusses out. He’s going to leave. So Molly strikes with a double axehandle to the back! YEAH! KICK HIS ASS! Stomps and a chop (WOOO!), then an Irish to the far corner. HANDSPRING ELBOW! Dropkick. CHARGE! Nope, ‘Cane back body drops her over the top rope to the floor. ‘Cane’s going to the top! No he’s not. He’s stopped. He’s backing down. Wuss. Molly’s on the floor holding her knee… ah, here’s why ‘Cane backed down. It’s Brock Lesnar. That MONSTER! That animal! He picks ‘Cane up and dumps him like yesterday’s garbage. Ref calls for the bell, but we don’t hear it. (DQ 1:04?) Fireman’s carry into that whirlwind cutter thingy. Whoa, major back tattoo on Lesnar. PAUL HEYMAN is now in the ring, and so is Molly. Heyman points out her existence, so Lesnar flattens her with a clothesline. Splat! He’s the new Sid!

Backstage, THE UNDERTAKER… is… HAVING AN EVENING CONSTITUTIONAL! He finds a lowly Corel Centre employee to tell him where Flair’s office is. Uh-oh… hilarity is sure to follow! End of segment.

Consistent booking! Well, at least for one week.

On the rebound, that horrid shot of HHH screaming with the two belts. Cole thanks Toronto for packing SkyDome with 68,237 patrons. Allegedly.

WOOO! RIC FLAIR is backstage talking on his cell with CRZ, debating whether “Beauty Stab” qualifies as an alternative ‘80s record. Flair’s forehead looks like it’s been tenderized. Undie walks in and sits down.

RF [to CRZ]:  “I'll have to call you back.”

U:  “Hey, Mr. Flair. No, no, no. Sit down. Sit down. How you feeling these days? You didn't look so hot at WrestleMania, did you?”

RF:  “No, but I'm still here.”

U:   “Yeah, I see you're still here. I seen you were here Monday night when you put the Figure Four on Vince. You see, Monday night, I had night off. But this is Thursday night. And I'm here.”

RF:  “I know that.”

U:  “Since I'm here, [sniffs, clears throat] I got a little something I need to ask you. I need you to do me a favour.”

RF:  “Me do a favour for you?”

U:  “Yeah, I need a favour from you. You know this brand extension that's coming up, you and McMahon, [sniff] I want you to draft me.”

RF:  “You want me to draft you?”

U:  “That's right. I want you to draft me, because, you know, leading into WrestleMania, with all the shows, they had, “This is a WrestleMania Moment.”  I want you to draft me, so every day of your life can be a WrestleMania moment. Just think about that, Flair. Just think about that.”

Undie adjusts his package and exits while Flair glowers. Cut to CHUCK AND BILLY in the dressing room. Today their colour scheme is black with red lettering.

C:  “Billy… is this a good idea? I mean, Rico and all? I heard he’s real tough.”

B:  “Hey, he might be tough, but the fact is he's the best there is. So I mean we got to. Oh, here he comes.”

In walks, presumably, the aforementioned RICO, who apparently is former OVW champion Rico Constatntino. A bio I pulled off the web says he’s a former American Gladiator, and he’s 40 years old! Well, he’s taken damn good care of himself, because he looks 28. I’m jealous. Rico looks at his new clients.

R: “This is pathetic. An embarrassment.”

B: “We didn’t…”

R: “Silence! I don't know how you two guys live with yourselves. I mean, these headbands, they're totally crooked. This colour scheme, totally blasé. We are going to undergo a complete full body makeover immediately after you beat the Hardys. Now get your robes. C’mon! Unbelievable! How can I live with this?”

B:  “He's tough. But he's the best stylist money can buy.”

C:  “What about these colours? Do you think they look passé?”

B:  “I don’t know…”

End of segment. Is this the same show that was so sucky before WMX8? Maybe they just painted themselves into a creative corner with all the brand extension and WM stuff. It’s been smooth sailing so far.

Included in the ads is the “I was there” campaign to get fannies in the seats. Yeah, I was there. I was there when Sherri no-showed for her match against Sapphire. Ah, memories.

On the flipside, it’s the Lugz Boot of the Week. Or, Booty of the Week, because it’s Stacey Keibler shakin’ that ass Monday, and getting it superbombed through a table. She should have held onto Bubba’s neck a while longer during that spot. Ouch.

Nice segue into the next match with THE HARDY BOYZ at the top of the ramp. Jeff is wearing Lita’s gaunch on his head. Whuzzupwitdat? It’s a title match! Lita’s not here because she already wrestled. Plus she couldn’t find her gaunch.

# YOUuuuuuuuloooooooksoooooooo… goodtomeeeeee. # Here’s Billy and no-longer Chucky wearing white robes to go with the black-and-red motif. Rico leads the way. Chuck is doing his ridiculous dance. Cole says Lawler can use some of Rico’s styling advice.

Mas lucha! Matt and Chuck start. Go-behind by Matt. Into a side headlock. Shoved into the corner. CHARGE by Chuck, but Matt dodges. Small package gets a two count already from referee NICK PATRICK. Clothesline by Chuck. Punch. Irish, ducks the head, reverse neckbreaker by Matt. Two count. Thumb to the eye gives Chuck time to tag in Billy, who runs in, but gets shoved into the far corner, where Jeff slugs him. Tag. Both Hardys stomp away on Billy in the corner. Irish by Jeff, reversed, Jeff ducks the clothesline, ummm… half Thesz press, half cross body. Anyway, cover for two. Kicks to the gut. Jeff with the Irish, Billy reverses, and Chuck drags Jeff down from behind by the funny blue hair. Jeff takes umbrage and knocks Chuck off the apron. Billy capitalizes with a tilt-a-whirl suplex. Tag. Stomps by Chuck. Rico looks on and tells Billy to fix his hair. Right hand by Chuck. Jeff fights back with shots to the midsection. Off the ropes… back elbow by Chuck. Tag. Double Irish, Jeff ducks the double clothesline, and hits a double dropkick on his foes. Jeff crawls under Billy’s legs to make the hot tag to Matt. Medium pop! Clothesline by Matt on Billy. And on Chuck. And on Billy. Back body drop on Chuck. Jeff is back in already. Double leg takedown on Billy… double legdrop into the groin. Matt whips Chuck across the ring… POULTRY IN MOTION! Sure, let’s try it on Billy… the funky blue chicken flies! But Billy moves, and Jeff crotches himself on the second rope. Swinging DDT on Billy by Matt! And Jeff is climbing the ropes… he’s at the top… but Chuck shoves him off to the floor. So Matt knocks Chuck off the apron and now HE’s going up. Billy has obligingly changed directions so his head is to Matt’s left instead of his right. HUUUUUUUUHHH!!! Legdrop from the second rope. Here’s the cover! One… two… but Rico picks up Jeff and throws him into the ring, right into Nick Patrick, thus breaking up the count. Rico! Suave!  Matt kicks Billy in the gut and HUUUUHHHHHH!!! But before he can deliver the Twist of Fate, Billy shoves him off and Rico drapes Matt’s neck over the top rope. Fameasser! Cover and the three count. (3:38) Billy and Chuck retain the titles. Good little match. Gets Rico over. Heel managers are back! Rico celebrates, then tells Chuck to fix his hair and straighten out his kneepads. Brilliant!

Next: Rock-Nash! First time ever! Almost done!

Your Playstation 2 Shock of the Week: Hogan drops the leg on Rock last last Monday on RAW. That wasn’t even this week! I guess “Shock of the Week” doesn’t specify. Would you buy an ATV stunt riding game? Unless the point is to crash, I don’t see the point. And how can the WWF be sponsored by Playstation, XBox AND GameCube? Mind-boggling. This show also brought to you in Canada by Pizza Pizza. Ontario’s scariest pizza, let me tell you. Specialty toppings: lawn trimmings and machine-floor sweepings.

Newnewnew World Order. Hall accompanies Nash to the ring, black-and-white style. “We’ve been waiting for this all day!” exclaims Cole. Yeah, whatever. Get on with it. THE ROCK comes out to a big-ass pop, now that he’s aligned himself with the forces of Hulkamania. Plus Ottawa crowds are generally less smarkish, IMHO. Holy crap, Duke lost! HOOSIER DADDY!?

Let’s sports-entertain!  Rock with punches, but Nash pastes him with a clothesline. His pants say “nash” down the side. And his pockets say “nWo" and look kinda goofy. Elbow to the back of the head. And so on. Rock fires back, but Nash knees him in the gut, and Snake Eyes connects. Big Bubba Drop over the second rope. Hall gets in a shot while the crowd chants for Hogan. Nash with Test-like offence in the corner. Hall gets a clothesline from the apron while referee EARL HEBNER is distracted. More of the usual elbows and stuff in the corner.

KN:  “Who’s the b(bleep) now, huh? Who’s the b(bleep) now?!”

And another back elbow. Now Nash is laughing. He’s framing it! 1996 Crotch chop! Cue the comeback! The Brahma Bull fires back. Punches in bunches, off the ropes… TORO! Nash steps aside and tosses the charging Bull over the top rope. The crowd is hot. Nash hoists Rock up on his shoulder and heads for the ringpost, but Rock slips away and shoves Nash into the post instead. Rock tosses Nash back into the ring, and Hall clobbers Rock on the outside. All the fans at the Big Black Barricade want to touch the Rock. Hall throws Rock back into the ring, where he gets a big side slam for his troubles. The camera pedestalled up and down for added effect. CHEATERS! Two count only. Oh, goody, it’s a bear hug. After about 45 seconds, Nash drops him. And then puts on ANOTHER one. Another 45 seconds passes. Rock’s arm drops once. Twice. Three times. That’s it, ring the bell. Just kidding. He punches his way out. Punchcpunchpunchpunch and so on. Off the ropes, Rock ducks a clothesline, BIG flying forearm he stole from Jericho. DDT! Now Hall is in, but he gets punched four times, Rock motions toward his genitalia, spits on his hand and punches! Hall sails over the tope rope, because the spit adds POWER! Nash back to his feet… spinebuster by The Rock. Heeeeeeeere it comes… PEOPLE’S ELBOW! The crowd is apoplectic! One! Two! Th… Hall breaks up the count, and Hebner calls for the bell. (7:00) Post-match beatdown ensues. Hall sets up the Razor’s Edge, but he’s close to the ropes, so you know he’s going over the top. Now Rock is clearing the announce table. He grabs Hall, but Nash attacks and JACKKNIFE powerbombs him through the desk. What’s this? The crowd erupts yet again. Could it be?

IT’S THE HULKSTER! SUPERMEGAULTRA POPS OF UNUSUAL SIZE!!! Hogan attacks Hall, then Nash. Cameras flash! He throws Hall in the ring. Irish, big boot! LEGDROP OF DOOM! Nash gets in the ring and gets in a couple of shots before Hogan fights back. Irish, big boot, LEGDROP OF EVEN DOOMIER DOOM!!

Well, we can’t have this, can we? X-PAC runs into the ring wearing the black-and-white and pastes Hogan with a chair. Then he tears his shirt off Hogan style and poses over the fallen idol. Looks like he’s been working on his lats, too. Hogan’s forehead looks like a road map. Hall gets a chairshot in, then Nash chairs Hogan for good measure. And, yes, the coup de grace, X-Pac sprays “nWo" on Hogan’s back. Play their porn music!

MC:  “The nWo is as poisonous as ever!”

And we out.

Well. Do we start calling him “Syxx” now?

Great show. And a fun recap. Things are definitely afoot in WWFE Land. Make sure you check the Heat and Jakked recaps to see what else happened leading up to the “brand extension.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me… I GOTTA GO BOWLIN’!

E-MAIL THE IMMOLATOR
BROWSE THE SD! 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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