Hey, I *liked* Raw this week (last week, whatever). There sure were a bunch of goofy stipulation matches but the way everything was laid out and delivered made for some cool sports entertainment.
You know, if we get used to the fact that I always do these things one week after
the fact, then they're not really late. (I'm tapping my head knowingly.)
X-Pac dragged something resembling a good TV match out of Billy Gunn's ass (that's
your cue to spit coke out yer nose) proving once again that he's the federation's
best pure worker (gotta use that line at least one a week). I really hate Gunn now
so I guess that makes him a good heel but I disagree with my own logic. The finish
was almost air tight clean (gotta talk about that too) and that almost always
guarantees a place in my black heart, Owen Hart.
I'm sorry to do this to my fans but I'm voting for the Posse vs. Brisco and
Patterson as quarter hour of the week. This ruled it so hard that I had to take
the following day off work. (Is that funny or subtly perverse? Tough call.) If
you're too young to relate, just picture the Dustin Rhodes and the Jesse Jammes in
the same roles 30 years in the future. Now do you see how cool it was? What?!
Ken Shamrock and Jean-Paul Levesque (because I am *so* inside) had the best
ACTUAL wrestling match on Raw. The finish was booked by Paul Heyman so you know
it had to be gooooood.
Mick Foley versus The Acolytes ruled a close approximation of the fucking world!
"A handicap match where the non-handicapped contingent WINS!" Preach on, Brother
DEAN! There were loads of nice "shots" throughout this one and the finish HURT
so I don't know what HERB was smoking when he reviewed this match. (It's ok, we're
friends in real life).
Just to lay to rest the rumours that Vince McMahon is heavily into 1993 ECW,
came the show ending lockerroom brawl. This was goofy but it screamed "WRESTLING!"
so I liked it. Of course, where the hell everybody disappeared after the inital
rush is called a big hole in the storyline BUT there were two big bumps so I'm
not supposed to think about that.
Ok, there was too much talking and I had a beef with that.
The WWF kicked off national mastubation month (hey, that's what the e-mail in my
mailbox said) with Debra in lingerie, and Nicole Bass for us manly men. Oops!
Paul Wight and the Undertaker had me salivating at a possible match on PPV.
Just think: given 20 minutes to expand upon what they teased us with on Raw,
these two could put on the match of the fucking millenium. Oh, the millenium
is NEXT, next year?!...forget it. So he hit him with a corked bat. Big fucking deal.
The four corners match sucked. That is all.
Ollie
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