DAG, YO. The Immolator here.

I’m busy with a story about the Mackenzie Valley pipeline proposal and the U.S. Senate’s amendment to effectively subsidize the competing Alaska Highway proposal. The premier of the Northwest Territories is displeased, let me tell you. So I’m afraid you get a late and abridged version of the SD! recap this week. I thought I might ask the premier his feelings about whether a Fatal Four Way among Hogan, Undie, Y2J and HHH would be a good idea. But he seemed preoccupied with this oil and gas thing.

The show starts with a look back at all the carnage from the previous week. You got Hogan, Undie, Y2J and HHH. Hmmm…

We are taped! from the Mellon Arena (say it Cajun Man-style for fun) in Pittsburgh, PA. Home of one of the greatest hockey players of all time… Wendell Young. You think Mario would have been anything without my main Hallegonian between the pipes? HAH! Your hosts are TAZZ and MICHAEL COLE, who waste no time in plugging the Hogan-Jericho main event.

But first… BILLY & CHUCK (w/RICO) versus RIKISHI and THE HURRICANE. For the tag titles. Was? Seems that infamous Tag Team Generator is working overtime. Who’s next? Mark Henry and the Fink? Hurricane, of course, carries the match. He and Palumbo go all New Blood on us for a bit. ‘Cane has Chucky pinned, but Rico (Rrree-coh!) boots him in the general vicinity of the head (Suave!) while the ref ain’t lookin’. B&C retain the titles. Shame and ignominy! Rico gets the aaaaaAAAHHHHHchokeslam and the Stinkface for his troubles. Other than Rikishi’s giant posterior, we were spared the buttock parade this time. Or deprived of it, depending on your outlook. I’m a brachioradialis man, myself. Nothing like a pronated elbow flexor. Whoa, momma.

Hmmm. In the dressing room, it’s the Canadian Mafia again. THE BIG VALBOWSKI and LANCE STORM are discussing in hushed tones how the Immo was right when he said the Habs would go all 1971 on the Bruins. Oh, it’s true. Speaking of which, KURT ANGLE joins the discussion group. He says, despite their gifts, they have done diddly on SD! (true) and offers one lucky Canuck a chance to model his new T-shirt. The real one, this time. Val says in rhyme that the shirt sucks, and exits. Lance says it’s a fine piece of outerwear, but asks Kurt if he is worried about the crowd chanting Mr. U. Suck’s name. Kurt says Pittsburgh wouldn’t dare. And that Pittsburgh is the pits without him. And that Mario Lemieux faked his Hodgkin’s Disease to get sympathy from the fans. Uh-oh… End of segment.

Your second course today features a big ol’ helping of You Suck. Angle and Storm enter the ring for some chat time. Angle says Storm, even though he is Canadian, is cool, because he is wearing Kurt’s new T-shirt. The shirt breaks a key deign rule: too many fonts and styles make for poor readability. Kurt says Pittsburghers should spend less money on beer and porno (mixed pop) and buy his shirt.

You think you know me. GAKAKAGSKKASDKKFHGHFAKKK!!! EDGE is in town, surprise surprise. And he brings out his brother-in-law Val wearing the YOU SUCK T-shirt, which I want, dammit! Gimmegimmegimme… anyway, out of this, we get a hair v. hair match between Edge and Angle at Judgment Day. Looks to me like the Japanese shampoo contract is coming up dry. Val says, if you want to see Angle shaved Bald, give him a YOU SUCK! End of segment. Huh? That’s all? Sheesh.

Next on the menu… RANDY ORTON v. HARDCORE HOLLY redux. How d’ya like me now? Well, I like you more now that you are getting yourself intentionally disqualified by procuring the Greco-Roman forearm uppercut to the pills. And delivering the Alabama Slam to the unforgiving metal entrance ramp. Good on yer, lad. Orton acquitted himself well in this match before getting punked out. Nothing to write home about, though. Taking the bump on the metal… now that was impressive. Even Tazz says Holly went too far. But don’t let my fixation on the big bump lead you into an escalating series of battles involving, say, tables and ladders and chairs. Oh my. Stick to the sweet science. A top wristlock beats a tope suicida any day.

Back in the dressing room, FAAROOQ is one happy pimp, because MARK HENRY has made him a lot of money. He offers to share it with him. Whoa, not that much of it. Take a $20. BROTHER D-VON arrives to tell our wayward souls that filthy, dirty, sinful money can be put to good use in the D-Von Personal Pocket Fund, or whatever. Henry shows his religious intolerance by shooing D-Von out the room. O, my brother! Faarooq wants the 20 back for a ten. Yar.

In a luxuriously appointed office somewhere in Mellon Arena (Mario must be out for the day), OL’ DIRTY VINCE is putting the Smoove B on STACY KEIBLER, threatening to plant one right on her navel. In to save the day is CHRIS JERICHO, who wants to make today’s main event a no DQ, no HHH, no UT match. Vince complies, and says HHH can’t lay a finger on him before the end of the match. He also says it will be suspensions for anyone who shows up uninvited on another roster’s program. Jericho leaves satisfied. Vince then jumps Stacy’s bones as we go to commercial. She didn’t exactly open herself lustily to him as he moved in for the kill, though. You would think they would have less awkward transitions on a taped show. If not less awkward angles. End of segment.

Oh, before we continue, let me outline that plot point again. VINCE IS BANGIN’ STACY. Yes, while those of us in Canada learn about the new Psyclone ride at Wonderland, Vince is ridin’ Space Mountain with Stacy. See those piranha gobbling up that Kit Kat bar? While they’re doing that… oh, I don’t even want to think about it.

The next segment starts as follows. Voiceover by Cole.

“The WWF remembers the lives of two legends. Ed “Wahoo” McDaniel's Native American heritage was a source of personal pride and inspiration throughout his life. “The Chief’s” remarkable career spanned over four decades. The incomparable Lou Thesz was one of the world’s most respected ring generals, immortalized by the Lou Thesz Press. “Hooker” will be remembered as one of the great champions of all time.”

A series of still photos and a piano-and-violins instrumental bed round out the piece. Good job. Better late than never. And let’s end ANY speculation about this being done to appease the marks. If anything, it may have done to appease other WWF employees. Good ol’ JR comes to mind. Did you notice the way he emphasized “LOU Thesz Press” during RAW? Sounded to me like he wanted to bust out in a eulogy right there. But that’s just The Immo and his armchair psychological profiling.

I think I know him by the shooting pain in my eyeballs every time he gets introduced. Edge and Val take on The NEW Can-Am Connection. Mostly, Storm and Angle beat up on Edge. Just when you think Val is going to get the duke like Albert did last month, Storm boots Val in the vicinity of his head to break up a pin attempt and Angle wins for his team. I say keep Angle-Storm together. End of segment.

# We jus’ tryin’ to stay alive/It’s quarter-hour Number Five # I played You Don’t Know Jack recently, and the funky back-up singers are in my head. Alas. Anyway, Jericho comes out and gives a promo. It goes something like this… I say “something” because I don’t have time to edit the closed caption transcription this week. Unless it says “Raymond Stereo” or something obvious.

CJ:  “You can't bring me down, you jackasses. You can't bring me down. Because tonight I am the king of the world!”

T:  “King of the world, there he is! (BOO!)”

CJ:  “Last week on Smackdown!, I beat Triple-H fair and square. I pinned his shoulder to the mat and I earned my right to face Hollywood Hullk Has-been. The undisputed championship, tonight. And I'm going to do what The Game -- or maybe I should say The "Shame", I'm going to do what The Shame couldn't do at Backlash. I'm going to beat Hogan and I'm going to once again become your undisputed champion! (BOO!) Oh, yeah. There's more. The best part is this. Tonight I am also going to do what every single WWF superstar has always wanted to do. Tonight I am going to do something that is further going to cement my status as a true living legend in this business. Tonight I am going to drive a stake through the heart of Hulk-a-mania. (BOO!)”

MC:  “Try, that's the key word.”

CJ:  “Hulk-a-mania ends tonight. It's not running wild in this crappy town. No! No, no, no! Tonight Hulk-a-mania is running out of time. Yeah. Hear the seconds tick away. Hear the time running out -- sh-h-h -- listen! Listen to this! Quiet, quiet. Can you hear it?”

Time to play The Shame… er, I mean, TRIPLE H comes out and gets his usual full Motorhead and water spray treatment. Then he gets in Y2J’s ruggedly handsome face… and starts chuckling.

CJ:  “What are you laughing at, you loser? What are you smiling at, huh? I know why you came out here, though, I know why. You're jealous. You're jealous of me. You’re jealous that I beat you last week and you're jealous that tonight I'm going to regain the undisputed championship, aren't you. You're jealous of that. The worst thing is, Triple-H, there is nothing that you can do about it, is there. 'Cause if you touch me, then just like Mr. McMahon said, you'll be committing career suicide. ending your career if you touch me, Triple-H. I know you're mad because I was the first-ever undisputed champion for four glorious months. And you were nothing more than a short term four-week embarrassment, now, weren't you. You want to hit me, don't you! You want to hit Chris Jericho, don't you, don't you. I'll tell you what. Why don't you ball up that giant fist and punch me right in the face right now?!”

T:  “Don't do it, Game!”

CJ:  “That's what you want to do. Right? That's what these jackasses want you to do. Come on, punch me in the face, you son of a bitch. I'll make it easy for you. I'll stick my chin right in your face, come on. Punch me right there. I'm even going to close my eyes. Punch me right here. Stop smiling and punch me! Knock that stupid smile off your face right now. All right. I get it. I know why you don't want to punch me. You're scared of Chris Jericho, aren't you. Huh? I thought you were some kind of tough guy; screw the rules, you say. You're scared of me. Well, Triple-H, you can't stop me and the Undertaker can't stop me. Because tonight I'm going to end Hulk-a-mania and regain the undisputed World Wrestling Federation championship. And nobody can change that, junior! (BOO!)”

HHH:  “Chris, I'm not smiling because I want to punch you. I'm smiling because I know something that you don’t. (YAY!) And that is the fact that there is no chance in hell that you will become the undisputed champion tonight. (YAY!) How’s that, junior!”

Trip takes off as his music plays. Well, all that for just a few words from The Game. Sheesh. And that, sadly, was the end of segment.

Being a good journalist, I took a gander at The Osbournes the other night to see what the fuss is about. I almost coughed up my pancreas, it was so funny. Although I wonder just a little how much of their dysfunction is played out for the sake of the viewer. You know, the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle as applied to celebrities on camera. Anyway, don’t expect wrestling to return to the Number One spot on cable. At least, not until Ted McGinley moves next door to Ozzy.

#  Jump the Shark is in the mix/Time for Segment Number Six # Faarooq and Mark Henry are in tag action (aha! That would work. But it might also kill Henry’s buzz) against… more Canadians. If Edge and Val are the Shayne Corson and Darcy Tucker of the WWF, then I guess TEST and CHRISTIAN are the Cory Cross and Jyrki Lumme. You hockey fans know what I mean. D-Von starts doing the collection hatbox thing in the crowd during the match. I love it when people actually put money in the box. Henry ends up chasing after him, leaving Faarooq to get Unprettied by Christian. I thought D-Von was going to be a face because he beat up the guy that tried to steal the hatbox before? I am sooooooo confused.

Hey, an interesting door. It has Hogan’s name on it. Perchance he is inside? Or maybe that’s really where Mario keeps his oxygen chamber, and they just stuck Hogan’s name on it to make us think it is his exclusive dressing room. Oooooh, sneaky buggers. End of segment.

More Rock behind the scenes at TSK. He likes his camel. One hump, or two? HAH! I kill me.

TAJIRI (w/TORRIE WILSON) gets to face Allentown, PA’s own BILLY KIDMAN. And I have had it up to here with the commentators calling Torrie’s kimono a “geisha outfit” and “degrading.” Like it isn’t degrading having your ta-ta’s put up for national display every week as a WWF “Diva.” Puh-lease. Not that I’m complaining about the ta-ta’s… just the commentary. Tomato time, indeed.

Oh, Tajiri beats the close-to-hometown favourite with a boot to the head. Kidman tried a plancha suicida, but Tajiri pulled Torrie into Kidman’s path. EVIL! The feud continues…

The close-up of Vince’s crotch (clothed, mercifully) as he does up his pants indicates that mating time is over. Vince asks Stacy to fetch HHH hither. Me, I need therapy. End of segment.

Well, as promised, HHH arrives at McMahon’s behest. Vince says HHH cannot interfere. HHH smiles and leaves. Meanwhile, Walking… IS… JERICHO! End of segment. WHAT?! I said, end of segment. WHAT?! Cut to commercial. WHAT?! Roll VTR. Cripes, are ya corned beef, laddie?

The WAH PEDAL OF DOOM brings forth the Suburban Commando himself, HULK HOGAN (Slight Return). Will Y2J put a stake in Hulkamania? Shah. Zif. In the middle of the match, HHH comes out once again, with his Motorhead music, and takes a spot at the commentators table. Nope, pre-match was not good enough. HHH senses a chill in the air. BONG! Keep rollin’… Undie’s music plays, and Jericho has a chair, ready to attack Undie. Ah, it was a ruse. A prevarication. A pure canard. There is no Undertaker tonight. Hogan gets the small package for the win, then HHH comes in and puts the boots to Y2J a bit.

What a load of codswallop that was. Two wrestlers in the ring, four entrance themes played. Imagine this: You, the reader, are at your regular job selling life insurance or whatever. You’re working your client on the phone, and then, over the intercom, you hear # KRANNNNGGGG… Time to play the game! # And it’s Wilson walking in and taking a nearby seat, nothing more. Not even a “How’s it goin’, eh?”  You try to regain your composure, but then, BONG!  And you figure, dammit, it’s that bastard Fredericks come to steal the Aviation file. So you grab your chair and get ready to whack him… meanwhile, Wilson takes the phone and wraps up the contract, leaving you high and dry. Is that any way to conduct business?

So… how do you like this semi-abbreviated format? Drop me a line, let me know. I might keep using it.

Peace.