WWE UNFORGIVEN 2006

Hey every one, I’m Sean Carless and this is Unforgiven, *LIVE* from Toronto, Canada. The land where up is down, black is white, and referees sometimes get more heat than the wrestlers. J.R. & King like to call it Bizarro World, but if that was REALLY true, that’d mean I’d have to have an American counterpart out there somewhere that’s handsome, rich, and well respected; unlike the regular Canadian version, who’s kind of the complete opposite of that….

Anyway, here’s the deal. Normally, our friend James Walker would be here, being master of ceremonies after assuming my heavy mantle of PPV recapping virtuoso, but he recently returned to college and as such his Internet has yet to be installed. So here I am. BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE! You see, Yours Me’ly actually attended said pay-per-view extravaganza live in a whirlwind day of drinking, eating questionable food, and poisoning the minds of marks around me in the arena with completely fraudulent information (Which I’ll get to shortly). It was a night to behold as lessons were learned, (never use the bathroom on a greyhound bus) I was almost ejected from the building, and I think I may have shattered the dreams of a few children sitting around me. Oh well.

With that said, at first, this “recappery” was not to be filled with my usual blow by blow (sort of) reviewing, since from my vantage point it was impossible to document every hold and maneuver, and as such I had a FLURRY of gimmickry set to dazzle you with instead (much like this show), but luckily for you, I’ve had a chance since returning to now watch the PPV (which I had taped for me) to fill in the important blanks. The rest will be observations of the live action and happenings. And YES, I've even decided to keep the gimmicks and mind numbing stupidity, mostly because I'm too lazy to use them somewhere else. C'Est La Vie or something!

BUT FIRST, here’s the ROAD REPORT for those who care about the amazing true story of how I got to Unforgiven (a word that turns out is in fact not an actual “word”, despite what both Clint Eastwood & Metallica will tell us. LIARS!). Anyway, for those of you who’d like to just skip ahead to the actual recap, feel free to do so now. Anyway, here was the itinerary:

Sunday, September 17, 2006:

Noonish?: As I have done some freelance writing and correspondence for my local newspaper when WWE has came to town in the past, I hoped to once again segue this into a PRESS PASS (as I’ve been afforded on occasion) so I, Jason and [Name withheld by request] could go backstage, maybe get an interview, steal food from the infamous WWE catering table, and hopefully lie to various senior members of the locker room that we saw “certain” roster members wheeling their carryall luggage into the arena instead of CARRYING it (a death penalty offense in the WWE).

This was a tough decision for me to make however, as Jason Hart (former TWF writer and my longtime friend) has always gotten us into hot water any time we’ve ever attended live wrestling together. For example, in the 1994, he *attempted* to bribe Bret Hart’s limo driver (with 5 dollars no less!) to let him into the car before ultimately jumping onto the moving Limousine containing the Hitman as it began to leave the parking lot! Security rushed the parking lot soon after, but Jay was able to get away luckily, as I myself subtly tried to back out of the premises without anyone noticing me like Kool-Aid man when he burst through the courthouse wall on Family Guy.

The sad thing is I have not embellished this story one bit. And this was but one of many incidents involving Jay over the years (some of which included him gleefully insulting the pituitary gland disorder of an out-of-makeup-Dink the clown, and somehow finding out that Curt Hennig took a shit in the locker room without flushing the toilet (he never explained to me how he gained this information, nor did I ever care to ask)), so you could imagine my panic that he would perhaps get me booted from the arena or even killed….

Anyway, luckily (or unluckily, depending on your point of view) the whole press pass fiasco fell through because I’m technically not employed by the newspaper; and as a non-employee, they had no way of trusting me or my behavior while representing them at an out of town event. Bah. Don’t they know of my vast umm, journalistic credibility? Don’t they know Ultimate Warrior once vowed to kill me in 2005? Or that I once gave Steve Lombardi a complicated handshake? You can’t buy credibility like that! (Ok, you can. But whatever.). Oh, things may have also gone sour because I was wearing this T-shirt when I showed up at the office to greet my connection who worked there. Go figure.

1:30 pm (Approx.): Jay & I decided since there was to be heavy drinking~! and God knows what other debauchery on this night taking place, that it wouldn’t be wise to drive to Toronto, and we instead opted to take the GREYHOUND BUS: the chariot of champions! Dear Lord. I had forgotten just how much I hate traveling by fucking bus. From repulsive children singing and generally making noise non-stop, to that one woman who always talks loud enough to the person sitting next to her so that every one on the coach could hear them, it all came flooding back. Add to that this guy who was serenading his girlfriend in the seat adjacent to ours with shitty poetry, and I was in Hell. Jay then hilariously took offense to my complaints of the “poetry” and dared me to give him my best “Haiku”, so I put him in the Tongan Death grip and said ‘there!” (This joke admittedly sounds better when spoken aloud…)

Oh~! And as a word of warning. NEVER use the coach bathroom on these buses. I must've taken this bus a hundred times in my youth, but never once did I ever dare to use the in-bus toilet. Well, until today. You see, a combination of morbid curiosity, and a questionable breakfast forced my hand, and I entered the bathroom to horrifically learn that the “toilet” in question was basically a stainless steel bench with a hole cut in the middle, which housed a swirling festering mass of shit gumbo not 2 feet below. That’s right. There was no flushing. You just add to the pot. It was a disgusting scene. And one that leaves you with very little dignity. Imagine being the first shitter into this ungodly chasm? At least in proper restrooms you have the chance to properly dispose of your bounty before someone else uses the facilities. No such luck here, chief. The person who comes in next will know exactly what your sins were and they’ll curse you out for them. Clearly, it’s best to just clench your cheeks together like it was your first day in lock up, move on, and just hope for the best.

2:45 (approx.): Arrived in Toronto and decided to get some lunch. Ate at a place called “Casey’s” which I haven’t frequented since I moved 5 years ago. Great food, but fucking Jason went off and told the staff it was my Birthday (it wasn’t) and the whole lot of them came over and sang that fucking irritating birthday song in unison. And if that wasn’t bad enough, in a restaurant filled with hot college-aged waitresses, we got the one dude that worked there as our server. Just my luck. The only saving grace was that the guy was *apparently* a wrestling fan and asked about the pay-per-view when he overheard us talking about the show. Of course, you know what happened next, because it happens TO ALL OF US at one time or another. He asked if Hulk Hogan was still champion and if he would in fact be there. I then told him deadpan ‘No’, and that The Hulkster had been unfortunately incinerated and killed when his Lamborghini exploded. Bullshit, I know. But it was worth it just to see the guy’s face. Jay’s follow-up response of “I guess Hulkamania really couldn’t live forever after all” just capped it off. We’re assholes.

***Speaking of Hulk’s Lamborghini, I’ve recently discovered a PHOTO of the official suspect in the blaze. Take this for what it’s worth!

4(ish): Went downtown. There just might be more oriental people here than in Asia. Jimmy Wang Yang would NOT be impressed.

5:30(ish): Stopped at TIMMY’S~! so Jay can get a coffee. I use the bathroom to wash my hands (I’m incredibly OCD) and as I’m at the sink, clearing my sinuses which are somewhat congested, some scraggly looking Hippie dude comes in, sees me sniffling and assumes I’m doing coke. “Holy shit! What’s going down!” he yells at me. Hilarious.

6:00 (approx): Took a street car from there, and walked the rest of the way over to ACC. Met [Name withheld by request] who had our tickets. They’re somewhat close to the ramp/stage, but about 9 or 10 over on the right. Hopefully it’s close enough so that my moronic dyslexic sign of “If Cena riots we win!” can be seen on camera. Look for me. I’ll be the really handsome guy.

6:45: We file into the arena (some people are already in there). A security guy asks me about the small laptop computer I’ve brought and tells me I’m not allowed to use it during the show in the case I was going to record then later retransmit some of the broadcast (I have no idea how that’s even possible). I angrily ask who would do such a thing, and just then I see a sea of douchebags with camera phones taking pictures for people on the other end of the line. Touché. Anyway, Jason sarcastically tells the guy “Don’t you know who he is? He’s an incredibly “important” writer!!!” and somewhat of an argument ensues, and he ends up asking for my “name” while talking into a walkie-talkie, so naturally I say DEREK BURGAN. Things calm down soon after, and as a result I’m forced to take notes on the back of the paper housing the instructions of how to get to the ACC from Elizabeth street. But at least I’m still here. I was worried there for a minute. I give full credit to the Derek Burgan name drop. Burganomics knows no bounds….

7:00-8:00: Everyone around us is talking about the show. I see what appears to be an overweight man dressed completely as Jeff Hardy and laugh accordingly. SHOCKINGLY it turns out to be a WOMAN, probably about 40 years old; and needless to say, I probably won’t be having sex ever again after witnessing that, as my dick has retracted so far back into my body that it actually went back in time to some prehistoric age where humans are still basically pond scum and have flippers for legs. Thanks a lot, lady.

After consuming 2/3rds of a pitcher of Rickard’s Red at the restaurant earlier, I once again had to use the bathroom, but got kind of lost since I have never been to the ACC before. I see what *appears* to be DEAN MALENKO~! near a concession stand, and my sheer markdom is temporarily shattered at the sheer tiny-ness of the man. I mean, I’m not a super huge dude or anything, but I think I can say without reservation that there’s a pretty damn good chance I could wear his pants as Bermuda shorts. DON’T JUDGE DEAN MALENKO UNTIL YOU’VE WALKED A MILE IN HIS REALLY TINY PANTS. What he lacks in stature, he more than makes up for with the ability to apply some 1000 consecutive holds. Armbar!

Anyway, I finally find the can, but believe it or not there’s actually a bit of a line up at the commode, so I strike up a conversation with a couple of dudes who were talking about Kanyon showing up at that WWE Event. So of course I automatically assume that they know all about him coming out of the closet (since I always stupidly assume every wrestling fan reads the Net religiously). Turns out they don’t know, nor do they believe me that the “Innovator of Offense” now “Innovates some new ways to make love to a man”. I realize at this point that it’s a lost cause, and just decide to lie my ass off, telling them that Kanyon has unfortunately contracted “AIDS”, and Vince, as a good will gesture, is bringing him back for one final run (literally) as HIV Positively Kanyon. Suckers.

Back to my seat. I try to close my eyes as I pass Jeff Hardy woman, so not to have the same reaction permanently burned onto my face that the little girl from The Ring leaves when she climbs through your fucking Television. And speaking of The Ring and that curse, I think it’s pretty safe to assume the Amish are safe. (unless somehow she’s gained the ability to project herself through a butter churner…)

Anyway, as it gets closer to Showtime, I look around and despite T.O. being serious SMARK country, there’s still an influx of children and teenaged girls here wearing Cena merch. In fact, the people about 3 over from us are actually hardcore Cena marks and are already arguing with the people who are busting their (tiny) balls for their choice of supporting Cena over the hometown boy, Edge. Their big defense is insisting that he’s the greatest wrestler EVER. I debate whether or not to burst their bubble, but I ultimately decide against it. Telling them that Cena is really not that great of a wrestler is likely akin to finding out that there’s no Santa Claus. It’s something you need to realize for yourself. (Or you could be like me and just catch your Dad eating the cookies you left out. ).

FREE FOR ALL! – A lot of bells and whistles and bullshit hyperbole. JR and King come out. Shelton Benjamin battles Super Crazy returning to PPV from Wellness~! after recovering from liver issues (and not INSANITY as his name not so subtly suggests) in a DARK match. Wait. A dark match? Those racists! What does the color of Shelton's skin have to do wi- oh. Never mind.

But hey, since you're not here YOU GET:

JOHN CENA RIDING EDGE LIKE A TOBOGGAN DOWN AN ICY HILL!

And that’s my (admittedly stupid) journey to get to the PPV. The show is now starting. Onto the recap~! (finally...)

Your hosts for this evening are Good Ole J.R., and King. And Hugo and Carlos for our Spanish friends in the states and the four Latinos who live in this country.

Jeff Hardy w/ IMAGI-NATION vs. (C)Johnny Nitro w/ Melina w/ VAGI-NATION (God bless her intro.): Intercontinental Title match

This match of course is built around the fact that Jeff Hardy compared Nitro & Melina's charisma to that of paint drying (The only fumes poor Jeff's allowed to come into contact with lately) which is hilarious in its irony. Having Jeff Hardy bad mouth your mic skills is akin to having F. Murray Abraham tell you you're ugly. Anyway, before we get to the match, I have to tell you that Jeff's entrance live is among the most entertaining spectacles I've ever seen. It seriously looked like he was being attacked by a raging swarm of invisible bees (Although, with Jeff he might just really be seeing them...). The only thing that topped that was morbidly obese Jeff Hardy woman passionately yelling "Fur is dead!" at Johnny Nitro all while eating the world's largest hotdog which kind of defeated her whole plight for animals if you ask me. ( plus, it took all my willpower to not channel our friend Canadian Bacon and say "Of course fur is dead! Good luck wearing a live animal around!!!11").

The match starts off with Jeff Hardy somewhat dominating, and surprisingly, there is strong Jeff Hardy fan support here tonight. J.R. and King however ignore much of the match's onset and instead argue over the "disrespectfulness" of Nitro wearing the Intercontinental belt as a swinging cock. How this, and not turning the WWE belt in a fucking spinning toy got J.R.'s dander up is beyond me.

Anyway, the story of this one is Nitro working Jeff's legs after Jeff takes a somewhat nasty tumble. However, Jeff is able to rebound, and hits the Swanton, but Nitro is able to get his foot on the ropes. Jeff eventually goes for a Twist of Fate, but Nitro counters that back into a modified ankle-pick. Hardy desperately tried to get to the ropes but Nitro looked to get the win, but after one more attempt Jeff did get the ropes and forced the break. Nitro pissed off, started jaw-jacking with the ref, as Melina was on the apron. Jeff took this opportunity to send Nitro headfirst into Melina, knocking her to the floor, and Jeff got a REAL nearfall off a school boy. Soon after, Nitro took the distraction of Melina selling her "twisted ankle" and went up top and leapt at Jeff with what appeared to be a rana attempt, but Jeff followed the momentum down and powerbombed him. As Jeff slumped into the ropes to take a breather, Melina removed her boot and clobbered Jeff allowing Nitro to get the pin, and retain the title. I'd say that everyone was expecting Jeff to get the boot by now, but even as drunk as I am as I write this, I know that's just not funny...

Winner and still Champion: Johnny "Don't call Monday" Nitro as Jim Ross called him. But hey, I wouldn't give Vince any ideas, Ross. Although he could get a 82 week reign, chances are Johnny will just end up being attacked by a wrestler called "Vinny RAW" who’ll then proceed to defeat him for another three years straight before running the poor bastard out of the business for good. No one deserves that.

-Hey, a trailer for The Marine! I love how John shows more workrate in a 30 second clip than he does in 4 years in WWE. I guess the trick to getting great performances out of him is to kidnap his girlfriend. AWESOME. I have some duct tape and rope in my car. I'll get right on that. The IWC will love this guy again by the time I'm done!

-Teddy Long is here and he has his own sky box. I laugh to myself at how his head somehow looks even smaller in real life. He makes the Goomba's from the live action Super Mario movie look like Albert in comparison.

- A dejected Jeff Hardy runs into his brother Matt backstage, who tries to console him. Brand extension you say? Two completely different companies? Ahem. Anyway, Lita then arrives on the scene , and calls them both losers. Matt's heart then breaks all over again, and this time he's nowhere near a computer to document the anguish! OH~! Speaking of Matt, check out this *BRAND NEW* WWE Auction item!

From the people that brought you the autographed shit-stained underwear of Batista, comes this latest WWE.com Auction Item, available for a limited time!

Ah, I kid, Matt. Believe or not, I'm actually a big fan of the guy. It's just my job to make jokes. And by saying " job" let's pretend I actually get paid.

-We're back at ringside now, and we get a shot of the OMINOUS~! Hell in a Cell hanging above the ring. J.R. forsakes calling it The Devil's Duplex (your lease is...forever!) this time for the even more comical "Satan's Playground"! Not to be confused with Beelzebub’s Jungle gym! Or Screwtape's Swingset! THIS CLEARLY IS A PARK YOU DON'T WANT TO TAKE YOUR CHILDREN TO! (why am I yelling?!)

Umaga direct from blah, blah, Samoa! and w/ Armando Alejandro Estrada vs. Kane;

I imagine since Umaga debuted in WWE that Samoa's tourism industry has taken a hit. It's bad enough in Hawaii when every native tries to throw a Lei around your head, but I can't imagine getting off a plane in Samoa and being thumbed in the throat. That's just not good business! Anyway, my stupidity aside, before the match, Estrada gets on the stick , introduces himself, Uuuuuuuuuuuuumaga, and then asks the crowd if they think Kane is a monster. Half of us shout no. I mean, really. The guy can survive fire, but gets put on the shelf by a thumb? Good thing he didn't get poked in the eye or stubbed his toe. He'd probably be dead!

Anyway, Kane comes out and it's on! Heavy hoss offense back and forth, and JR resists the urge to drop the term "manster" again to describe either man. Good. I always thought that sounded like a file sharing program for gay porn. Umaga actually starts to dominate, and a spattering of people try an "Umaga" chant. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Anyway, Kane ends up spilling over the ropes, and he goes after Armando ripping off his suit jacket. Man, it's not even hot in here, but Armando is already sweating worse than Girl Guides trying to sell Jerry Lawler cookies. Anyway, back in the ring, Umaga is all offense, including the "ass meet face" thump in the corner and... a FUCKING SHINING WIZARD? Ok, kind of. We'll just call it a Sparkly Magician until he watches some more Muta tapes and gets it right. Armando now gives the signal for the Samoan Spike, but Kane blocks, and hits a big boot. He then charges Umaga, but gets caught with a Samoan drop. Umaga heads upstairs, and misses...something, as Kane does the dead man sit up. It's all Kane now as he heads up top and gets the flying clothesline (ignore the part where he lands on his own feet first) and from there the two end up outside, where Kane clotheslines Umaga into the crowd. Both are presumably counted out, despite no official announcement. Bah.

Result: Double Count-out. Well that's what it was. In a side note, you'll be happy to hear that there's actually still people out there who believe that Kane is NOT the same Kane as originally debuted. These people were actually a few feet away from me. Now, I could have set these people straight, but why do that, when you can make it worse? So I told them they were right, and then told them that the original Kane was actually murdered by the 2nd Undertaker (the one on SD), and the whole thing was witnessed by the original Ultimate Warrior, but before he could tell the authorities, he died in a motorcycle accident. Haha.

-Backstage, we see Vince & Shane discussing the impending Hell in the Cell. They show clips of Vince pinning Hunter on RAW. Vince then asks where Big Show is. Shane says "he's getting ready". I then picture him soaking his "skillet hands" in Ivory liquid in a futile attempt to get the bacon grease off. From there, Vince puts himself over, stating unlike Canada, he doesn't need allies to help him succeed. Oh burn~!

-They show an outside shot of the Air Canada Center, but since you don't really give a shit....

Here's a word from our sponsor!

BIG SHOW FEELS LIKE A CAPTAIN~!

And hey, why not? I've suspected for a while that deep down in his soul, that I'm sure J.R. could come up with an according kitchen utensil to compare it to, he desperately wants to be a pirate. I mean, look at this (completely undoctored) picture from WWE.com! And clearly the timing couldn't be better. With all the success of Pirates of the Caribbean 2, and with Paul Birchill apparently floating in limbo, now's the time to strike while the iron's (cannon's?) hot. Come on, WWE! Make Big Show your Rated Arrrgggggghhh Superstar! Hell, have him feud with Undertaker just so someone like Ross can make the comment "By Gawd, Big Show just sunk the Deadman's chest!" Ok, maybe not.

Highlanders vs. (C) Spirit Squad (Mikey & Kenny) World Tag Team Championship match.

Hey, who says you have to rent a 1970’s porno to see two ugly hairy dudes take on 5 cheerleaders at once? Hey, it's true. Both go at it for about 10 minutes, there's a lot of sweating and yelling, before ultimately wrapping the whole thing up by laying on top of someone for a few seconds. Clearly, I've thought this parable out too much, and sadly there's no way to erase an image from your mind's eye.

Anyway, the crowd couldn't have given two flying fucks about this one, which was sad because everyone worked really really hard. Robbie plays your filthy dirty Scotsman in peril for much of the match. Man. Someone really needs to tell Vince that Scotland is fucking civilized and they actually have stores that sell SHIRTS AND PANTS there, and people wear them! Anyway, after Mikey and Kenny work over Robbie for what seems like forever, he finally makes the hot err, warm, err completely tepid tag to Rory who cleans house. He catches Kenny with a big flapjack and dumps him out, then he and Robbie look to finish Mikey with the reverse double suplex but Kenny makes the save. With the referee trying to get Kenny out, Johnny gets a spinkick on Rory as he was slumped by the ropes, and Mikey finishes with a modified X-Factor to get the pin as Robbie was tripped up by Kenny while trying to make the save. Huh. Clearly, England needed to employ cheerleaders during William Wallace's campaign in the 1300's. A few trampolines on the battlefield and Braveheart and his boys would have been scurrying back over the hills. FREEEEEEDDDDDOMMMMM!

Winners & still champions: The Spirit Squad. I'm guessing if they don't drop the belts by Monday night, that whatever ragtag fuckers who lose the WWE Title vote at Cyber Sunday(?) will get the job done. On a completely unrelated note, I'd like to see The Highlanders team with Rey Mysterio if only to see Rey drop the dime, then Robbie & Rory pick it up, put in their wallet and never spend it again. What? You thought I wouldn't make at least one 'Scottish are cheapskates" joke? Shame on you.

-We get a DX/McMahon package. Hey, with all the hoopla surrounding Tom Cruise & Katie Holmes revealing Suri, just how long will it take before HHH, Steph & Aurora Rose make their Vanity Fair debut? (This is but a (not so) clever segue to the photoshop seen far right. Sue me.)

D-Generation X: HBK & HHH vs. Vince McMahon, Shane McMahon and Well, it's the Big Show: HELL-UH, IN THE CELL-UH.

Before the match, J.R. breaks me up by describing the Hell in the Cell (which for the record is twice as high now) as SINFUL STEEL. Sinful steel? Hah. Apparently the cage cheated on its wife with no care for her feelings or well being. That cad. Anyway, There's actually a smattering of 'You Screwed Bret' chants early, but they're ignored by everyone, because let's face it, besides Big Show, they could mean anybody here. Anyway, as the match starts, DX kicks Big Show in the Big Sack early and for a few minutes it's two on two. Both Shane & Vince get opened up soon after as a result of being rubbed into the Hell in the Cell steel mesh. Big Show recovers, only to get another shot in the bag to drop him. Eventually, Show, his typewriter head, Skillet hands, and egg beater balls get back into the thick of things with HEADBUTTS. "He just wrote a manuscript on the head of the Game with that typewriter like head, By Gawd, King!" This quote didn't happen. But damn it, it should have. Anyway, Show ends up throwing HBK into the Cell like a javelin, then giving him the old SD game Alleyoop powerbomb into the cell, and now HBK's bleeding. Back inside, Show, Vince and Shane decimate Hunter, and they set HHH up in the corner. Shane then grabs a trash can, and Show holds Hunter in place so Shane can hit a Shane Terminator. As somewhere a single tear rolled down RVD's cheek. But don't feel too bad, as it turns out he just inhaled down the wrong wind pipe...

Anyway, Hunter gets tossed to the floor where Shane uses the stairs as a launch pad to send him careening into the Cell with a slingshot. Back inside, Show, Shane & Vince demolish HBK, but Vince pulls him up twice on attempted pin covers. Eventually, HHH comes in, and dumps Show out and over, and looks to Pedigree Daddy dearest when from behind, Shane impressively muscles him up awkwardly for what looks like a torture rack. He then turns that into a neckbreaker, but J.R. insists The Game countered. I have no idea what the fuck it was.We all went "oooh", anyway, because it's live wrestling, damn it.

From there, HBK sends Shane over the top. Soon after, Show & Vince get the momentum again and Vince begins to take his pants off. This is highly reminiscent of all the historic matches where the combatants took their pants off. I mean, who could forget the time Bruno Sammartino took his pants off whilst taking the title from Buddy Rogers in the 60's? What? No one does this? Not ever? then why, damn it. WHY?! Anyway, Vince wants a mid-match kiss my ass club moment, but HHH puts a stop to that with a punch to the face. Vince of course, still amidst "unconsciousness" buckles his pants back up. It's an instinct, clearly, and not bad selling. Yes siree. Show then clobbers HHH, and demands Vince hold Michaels so he can splash him. Michaels however pulls Vince into the path and Vince McMahon gets crushed, as Show sells the horror of the moment. HBK and HHH then pull Show crotch first into the post, then turn their attention to Shane. Big tackle, nip up, and HBK goes up top, but not before Hunter retrieves a chair and puts it over Shane's neck. HBK then hits the big elbow, and Shane By Gawd is bleeding internally. (Which means he'll be back in a couple of weeks, and not say DIE, like most people who hemorrhage usually do).

Big Show then reentered the ring, and pulled HBK out. He returned to go after HHH, walking towards him while carrying steel steps over his face (what could go wrong there?) when suddenly Trips hits him in the gut with a chair and he falls face first onto the steps like a chopping block. HHH then crushes his typewriter head (save your money Show, then maybe one day you can move up to a Mac!) with the chair. From there, Show slowly stands up, and walks into some Sweet chin music by Michaels and slumps over the ropes. This just leaves HBK & HHH and Vince. They all share an awkward moment, then DX turns around and yanks down Big Show's singlet to reveal his Ass (What's left in the kitchen to compare it to? One of those Big toasters with the giant slots that can fit Texas bread? I'm beggin' someone to think of something here!). Anyway, with Show's ass exposed, DX buries Vince's head deep into his "crevice" (TAINTed victory?[/got nothing]). Vince then sells the disgust that can only come from having one's head up a giant shit brimming asshole, and thus walks into some chin music. He then kind of slumps to his knees, and Hunter grabs Sledgie from under the ring and breaks it over his back, as the end goes flying across the ring. This got a well deserved "holy shit" chant because it was LOUD, believe you me. We could here the crack even back as far as where we were. Hunter then pins Vince to end the match. Good stuff. Actually better on TV then live if only because from that far back, the cage was hard to see through (We weren't on a very great angle to watch the Titan Tron either).

After the match, Shane & Vince get strapped to gurneys and carried out.

Winners: DX. Hopefully this is it as far as Vince and Shane go, and DX can move onto someone else. However, it wouldn't surprise me if we see Stephanie show up as soon she sheds the bloat (the last time we saw her she was retaining more water than the Hoover dam.) I sincerely hope this is not the case, however. Adding ANOTHER McMahon to the mix would be like having AIDS then contracting Ebola. You might as well just put yourself out of your misery.

-We get a video package hyping Trish's career and celebrity. Hey, did you know she hosted the Canadian Walk of Fame? And yes, we do have one. It's actually only about 4 people, then 300 duplicate squares of Celine Dion... BECAUSE ANYONE WITH FUCKING TALENT IN THIS COUNTRY GOES TO AMERICA TO MAKE THEIR LIVING. The rest stay behind and star on CBC crime dramas featuring Eskimos pretending to be New York City cops. But best of luck,Trish. And just say 'No' to North of 60.

(C) Lita vs. Trish Stratus for Women's Title. Trish's last match regardless.

Anyway, Lita came out first, and Jay reminded me that the last time Trish and her wrestled on pay-per-view, Lita nearly killed herself. My suggestion of her wrestling in a suit made entirely of car crash airbags got me some dirty looks. But not as much as this analogy:

"If you think about it, it's funny that Lita would even want to be in wrestling. You'd think she'd want to avoid any activity where the object is to feverishly avoid laying flat on your back."

Go figure. Anyway, Trish comes out next to a MONSTER pop (TV didn't do it justice) and everyone started chanting "Thank you, Trish!" which on my part was partly because of the outfit she chose to wear this evening.

WWE thankfully gave Trish a good bulk of time, and this one progressed nicely, with Trish getting many of her signature spots in to the crowd's approval. Both ladies eventually jockeyed on the top rope, and violently spilled out and over. Back inside, both went up again, but Lita shoved Trish down to the canvas and then went for a moonsault, but Trish rolled clear. Trish then covered for a close 2. Trish tried to finish with the Stratusfaction, but Lita dumped her over the top. Trish soon rallied from there, hitting a successful Stratusphere rana out of the corner (Lita had countered it earlier) and ended up hitting the chick kick, but Lita escaped at two. Lita then regained a quick advantage, trying to go for her DDT (STDdT?) but Trish countered and got a nearfall off a cradle, but in mid-pinfall she picked her up, looking like a catapult, but instead she applied the sharpshooter~! on Lita to get the submission and win the title in her last match! Wow. I think I can safely assume Bret Hart's head just exploded after hearing a Canadian got to leave the company in their home country as World Champion and defeat their arch rival by submission. He was 49.

Winner and *NEW* champion: Trish Stratus. Well deserved standing Ovation after the match as she noticeably had her mascara running from tears. Thus ends one of the surprisingly great careers of our time. I'd name some of my favorite Trish moments here as a tribute, but unfortunately most of them involved me first kicking my pants across the room. Ah, I kid. Best of luck, Trish!

/5 (mostly for atmosphere)

-Commercial spot for Smackdown's "Season Premiere" on CW this week. What, so this summer's just been repeats? Sure as shit felt like it. Anyway, Smackdown and CW will be celebrating their debut with what is rumored to be a cage match between Rey Mysterio & Chavo Guerrero. Thank God it wasn't a casket match. With the way this fucking storyline's been progressing I'd be terrified to see what was actually in there...

-Backstage, Tard Grisham is with Randy Orton who's obviously been coaxed to get MEGA HEAT to prevent any of those gosh darned Canadian bizarro reactions that ruined the entire natural progression of the Evolution angle in 2004. Oh, he says no one cares about Trish and her retirement and calls her a bitch. But since it was tedious you get.....

RANDY ORTON AND CARLITO BEING SUCKED OUT OF A SPACE AIRLOCK HATCH!

In space no one can hear you ~~scream~~ cut a shitty promo.

Carlito w/ apple spitting vs. Randy Orton w/o Gym Bag shitting?

Hey, here's a quandary for you. When Randy Orton himself one day becomes a legend, does that mean he'll have the sudden urge to commit suicide? Roll that around in your mouth and see how it tastes.

Anyway, this match unfortunately was granted the vaunted DEATH SPOT. But that didn't stop Randy from dipping into his bottomless bag of CHINLOCKS. Got to love Randy Orton. He's the only wrestler on earth who uses a chinlock to transition to ANOTHER chinlock. Anyway, at one point, Carlito explodes into a rage of lucha, hitting a flying senton followed up a Lion sault that legit busted Randy's mouth open hardway. Orton responded to this by dropkicking Carlito out and over. Lawler put over the dropkick, stating that and I quote "no one gets any higher than Randy Orton!" It's true!