There they were, Brodus Clay and the Funkadactlys dancing alongside Assistant to the General Manager Tensai and getting a good reaction from the crowd and several children. All I could think of was two things: launching whitepeopledancing.com and the vague possibility of resigning this post so I could go hunt for A.J. Styles or something.
Little wonder my girlfriend's friends laugh when she tells them I do this.
But in a show with a new storyline development and the continuation of another, I guess the place to begin is with the suddenly funky gaijin, who took the jibes of the Prime Time Players backstage -- by the way, what genius decided to give Titus O'Neill camera time? Give that person a raise and you can take it from the one who replaced WOOF WOOF GET IT GET IT -- and then survived a...well, hoss fight wouldn't be the exact term. No Show/Henry showdown this, but the two bulls meeting in the ring had its moments like them fighting for some time over a suplex. It played better than it reads, I assure you. Tensai showed some good fighting out from underneath before rallying for the win after Clay and the Family Funk came down to root him on with the BIG MAN SENTON OF DOOM~! I mean, Claysai is not for me, and a team predicated on their enslavement to the rhythm pretty much shows what WWE thought of their big free agents that they acquired all the way back in the spring of 2012. Yet, if Team Hell No is going to implode (internal sobbing) somebody's got to take their place, and maybe Claysai will light a fire under them both. As with a lot of WWE lately, the things the audience seems to groove on and I seem not to be technically members of the same species.
I mean, these people hate Antonio Cesaro, for crying out loud! Antonio Cesaro, OUR United States Champion! The same people who can watch a MizTV segment with Ryback and their will to live stays intact! Kudos and other snack bars to them; I just couldn't with pretty much the whole thing. Jesus Horatio Vishnu, I know nobody pays attention to this corner of the world but wow. Let me try rephrasing my thoughts from last week since they reprised the Cesaro/Ryback match and some trademark Stamford Wacky Banter betwixt the monster and the announcer beforehand: wrecking ball shouldn't make jokes. Wrecking ball no usey the Miz's catchphrase. Of course, this wasn't a strict reprise, no. This time Ryback looked absolutely dominant for almost all of the match, and outside of hoping for a countout when Ryback missed him and hit the post and a sweet Calf Branding the champion looked almost irrelevant. Even though it was pretty boss that he fell victim to a half-minute long suplex. Just look at who's been on his plate lately: Orton, Sheamus, Ryback. It's like they believe in him but not quite yet. Oh, and the Miz. I forgot about that pesky fly, but Cesaro used him as the fulcrum to a willful countout loss (yes, again) when in the greatest moment in Main Event history so far he YAKUZA KICKED MIZ IN THE FACE PRAISE BABY ALLAH IN HIS CAVE and ran out. I don't want to say the end justified the means. That said, Miz was out there running his yap like he hadn't just had an opportunity to end Cesaro's reign and gotten Neutralized cleanly in the center of the ring. And nothing should be more American than kicking a reality star in the face when they won't shut up and their fifteen minutes of fame have passed.
The rest of the show was a recap segment, but it was Heyman's run at the Best Supporting Actor SAG and Brock Lesnar showing up 24 hours too late -- or did he bum bummmm bummmmmm...all right, all right, I just want Brock/Punk at some point, shut up -- but still F5ing the Deux ex McMachina. And yes, it was so good it not only kicked off the show, but got rerun at the juicy part in the middle.
While two moments of awesome violence against characters I despise wasn't enough to save the show necessarily, it did remind me of why Main Event's been my baby since its inception last fall.
That said, if they have Ryback applying flame-cooked marshmallow and chocolate bar pieces to a graham cracker next week, I will make Brock Lesnar look like Hornswoggle.
Little wonder my girlfriend's friends laugh when she tells them I do this.
But in a show with a new storyline development and the continuation of another, I guess the place to begin is with the suddenly funky gaijin, who took the jibes of the Prime Time Players backstage -- by the way, what genius decided to give Titus O'Neill camera time? Give that person a raise and you can take it from the one who replaced WOOF WOOF GET IT GET IT -- and then survived a...well, hoss fight wouldn't be the exact term. No Show/Henry showdown this, but the two bulls meeting in the ring had its moments like them fighting for some time over a suplex. It played better than it reads, I assure you. Tensai showed some good fighting out from underneath before rallying for the win after Clay and the Family Funk came down to root him on with the BIG MAN SENTON OF DOOM~! I mean, Claysai is not for me, and a team predicated on their enslavement to the rhythm pretty much shows what WWE thought of their big free agents that they acquired all the way back in the spring of 2012. Yet, if Team Hell No is going to implode (internal sobbing) somebody's got to take their place, and maybe Claysai will light a fire under them both. As with a lot of WWE lately, the things the audience seems to groove on and I seem not to be technically members of the same species.
I mean, these people hate Antonio Cesaro, for crying out loud! Antonio Cesaro, OUR United States Champion! The same people who can watch a MizTV segment with Ryback and their will to live stays intact! Kudos and other snack bars to them; I just couldn't with pretty much the whole thing. Jesus Horatio Vishnu, I know nobody pays attention to this corner of the world but wow. Let me try rephrasing my thoughts from last week since they reprised the Cesaro/Ryback match and some trademark Stamford Wacky Banter betwixt the monster and the announcer beforehand: wrecking ball shouldn't make jokes. Wrecking ball no usey the Miz's catchphrase. Of course, this wasn't a strict reprise, no. This time Ryback looked absolutely dominant for almost all of the match, and outside of hoping for a countout when Ryback missed him and hit the post and a sweet Calf Branding the champion looked almost irrelevant. Even though it was pretty boss that he fell victim to a half-minute long suplex. Just look at who's been on his plate lately: Orton, Sheamus, Ryback. It's like they believe in him but not quite yet. Oh, and the Miz. I forgot about that pesky fly, but Cesaro used him as the fulcrum to a willful countout loss (yes, again) when in the greatest moment in Main Event history so far he YAKUZA KICKED MIZ IN THE FACE PRAISE BABY ALLAH IN HIS CAVE and ran out. I don't want to say the end justified the means. That said, Miz was out there running his yap like he hadn't just had an opportunity to end Cesaro's reign and gotten Neutralized cleanly in the center of the ring. And nothing should be more American than kicking a reality star in the face when they won't shut up and their fifteen minutes of fame have passed.
The rest of the show was a recap segment, but it was Heyman's run at the Best Supporting Actor SAG and Brock Lesnar showing up 24 hours too late -- or did he bum bummmm bummmmmm...all right, all right, I just want Brock/Punk at some point, shut up -- but still F5ing the Deux ex McMachina. And yes, it was so good it not only kicked off the show, but got rerun at the juicy part in the middle.
While two moments of awesome violence against characters I despise wasn't enough to save the show necessarily, it did remind me of why Main Event's been my baby since its inception last fall.
That said, if they have Ryback applying flame-cooked marshmallow and chocolate bar pieces to a graham cracker next week, I will make Brock Lesnar look like Hornswoggle.
