I would rather have this life of combat than the mortal calm and mournful stupor of these last years. God give me struggle, enemies, howling crowds, all the combat of which I am capable.” – Romain Rolland
Yeah, I didn’t do a Short Form this weekend. Mostly that was due to the fact that I finally finished refurbishing that laptop I brought back from Chicago and need to mail it back. But the thing is, I want to include in that care package the first six episodes of Doctor Who for my friend, who loves the show nearly as much as I do; her only problem is that she has an AOL dialup, so downloading’s out of the question. So I decided to make some homebrew DVDs that I hope work in her DVD player (I have no clue if it will; it’s one of those cheapies). Then the problems started. For some practice, I decided to create a DVD out of the two Enterprise Mirror Universe episodes. I found out that I could only transcode episodes from any format to DVD format in Safe Mode; the sucker kept crashing on me otherwise (please, no help on this one; I run so much shit at startup that it could be one of twenty or thirty different things). So I booted into Safe Mode and let that run overnight on Saturday (at the same time, the latest Doctor Who was downloading, so at least my timing was good). I purposely woke up at 4:30 AM on Sunday in order to finish off this DVD and get started on the Who episodes, and thanks to my fetish for perfectionism and wanting to make the intro screen look “nice”, I spent the next eight hours learning DVD Lab Pro and relearning Photoshop after I had a shit fit when Paint Shop Pro wouldn’t open more than one picture at a time. But the results were great, and I finally learned after all these years how to do proper masks in Photoshop. After being drained from that experience, I had no appetite to do a Short Form on Sunday. I should be able to mail out the computer with the DVDs today, since I finished off the Who episodes yesterday and had Doctor Who Confidential on the same treadmill last night (which then proceeded to fail, so as I’m typing this, I’m still in Safe Mode trying to get this done).
Another impetus in not having the Short Form was Chris Candido. Dammit, Candido…you know, I can do death by misadventure in regard to wrestling people. That’s no problem. I just start the polemics about drugs and how stupid it is to take them…yes, I know. In fact, I’ll start the letter for you: “Dear Eric: You f*cking hypocrite…”. But complications from surgery? Especially a dead-easy surgery (I know, wrong choice of words) like he had? That’s just…shit, that’s just wrong. And here’s the guy making a damn sweet comeback after years of absolute hell. He kicked the entire tribe of monkeys that he had on his back off and was making a huge impression in TNA. He was slowing getting to be one of their Guys You Watch Impact To See for the same reason that you might watch Raw to see Daivari. And he also proved that he could still cut it in the ring. He was rededicated to his career and was enjoying himself. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped for no damn good reason. And he was only 32. Jesus, I’m eight years older than he was, and, hell, I was about 32 when I had back and knee surgery. Why did I survive and Candido not? There but for the grace of God and all that, I guess. This one is one that I just can’t get a handle on. There’s nothing to be said. I’m so bummed about that that I blew off Impact this week and deleted Lockdown from my HD.
Now here’s the cynical part that you have been conditioned to accept from me: the worst part about Candido’s death is the fact that we now have to feel sorry for Tammy Sytch. Hyatte, Fleabag, and I have got a lot of mileage out of here over the years, amplifying the Bingo Hall’s chant of “She’s A Crack Whore” without end because of her…ahem, excesses in a number of areas. But now she’s lost her Significant Other in a very sudden, stupid, and unexpected way (God, if it had been drugs that killed Candidio, the knives would have been out for her even more than they were out for Lex Luger after what happened to Elizabeth). And she’s going to get a long free pass from members of the IWC because of this. We remember guys who were going well and then suddenly left us: Brian Pillman, Louie Spicolli, and especially Owen Hart, et al. Any time someone says something negative about Sytch for the forseeable future, someone’s always going to say, “Well, Chris died”. Look, this doesn’t change the fact that she’s still a drug-addled, no-brain skank. Let’s try to keep the pity party to a minimum for her, please. The IWC is lessened by not being able to call Sytch what she is.
The IWC lessening part, though, is mollified for me by the science fiction fanboy part. Let’s see, in a twenty-four hour period this Friday and Saturday, we got a Constitution class going into battle, H2G2 opening on the big screen, and the return of the Daleks. Somewhere in SF Nirvana, Gene Roddenberry, Douglas Adams, and Terry Nation are together having a drink or two right now and celebrating in some quiet, satisfied way (but Gene brought the girls, so who knows?). My Inner Geek is completely satiated, and that’s even without seeing H2G2 yet (it’s on the HD, though, and I’ll probably catch it Thursday).
Something I won’t catch Thursday, though, is the Pimp Section, so let’s get it on…
THE PIMP SECTION
Lucard returns with the results from his last Retrograding column. And I thought I had some readers who were dumbasses.
Misha appeals to my Inner Geek again. He knows how to make me feel LUV.
Fernandez gets his Saturday Swindle Sheet in a day late, but he talks about things that make you vomit, so it was worth the wait.
Hatton hangs around with those bad influences on his life again. Yes, both his friends and Raw.
Truncellito gets his column in, although he misspelled “immoral” in his teaser for it.
Zarur is doing a great job handling Heat, and Leeman does ditto with Epilepsy.
Porter survived both the May Bank Holiday and Chelsea’s success.
Price gives you more about NASCAR than you ever want to know.
Aulbrook goes shorty on us, which is fine by me.
Tierney gives some LUV to Ozzie Guillen, which warms the cockles of my heart.
Norton summarizes the week in films, with a little help from the Movies staff.
AND IN WRESTLING NEWS…
Jack shit as usual. There’s been a switch of directors on the proposed Conan movie, from John Milius to Robert Rodriguez, so Trip might have lost out on the title role (aw, tough titty; considering what I wrote about Milius when this news was announced, the movie’s going to benefit twice over). CM Punk had to job at some indy tournament, which must depress the three or four ROH fans out there. And out in Pittsburgh, Mark Madden’s behaving like an ass toward another DJ in pursuit of ratings, and it’s backfiring since his ratings are dropping and that of his target are skyrocketing. Nice job, fat boy.
One other thing: I’m running under Safe Mode right now, which means my ad blockers aren’t operating. Do you know what utter hell it is to consult 1bullshit Junior with no ad blockers? Not even Firefox helps the situation. Scherer must die, and die quickly.
Ah, this episode of Raw is going to be interesting. I’ve just finished downloading Backlash, and I’ll probably have some comments about it tomorrow, but right now, I don’t have time to watch it (and since I’m in Safe Mode, the video would suck regardless). So let’s kick out the Short Form…
…well, hold off for a second. I just checked GMail out of curiosity, and as some people know, I’m having job opening notices for USDA being sent to me there (the ones they can’t fill via the normal promotion or transfer process). There was one opening there that I decided to apply for, and just to show you how desperate I am to get the f*ck out of here, it was for a promotion 1) into a slaughter plant 2) in Ohio. Longtime readers will know the significance of that last one.
Now that I’m back, it’s on to Raw…
THE SHORT FORM
Match Results:
Kane over Christian, Gold Rush Tournament First Round Match (Pinfall, chokeslam) Oh, God, was this one ugly. Triple-bag ugly. Shar-pei ugly. Whatever adjective you want to put in front of it, it was ugly. Christian just wasn’t on. He couldn’t seem to cope with having to adjust his style to fit his opponent, which isn’t normal for him. Meanwhile, Jacobs decided to sleepwalk his way through this one, the same way that he does every time the bookers tell him, “Glen, beat on your opponent, then let him beat down on you, then you beat down him again and get the pin.” And all of this was compounded by Dumas, never changing her expression from the half-Bob-in-the-Enzyte-commercials pose she established from entrance to exit. The only one not at fault here was Tomko. What a horrid way to open the show. One final question: has Christian actually hit the Unprettier at any time during the 21st Century?
Viscera over Simon Dean (Pinfall, fat-ass splash): Let’s see…beat up Trish Stratus. Hit on Lilian Garcia. Get portrayed as a sexual predator. Get a face push. Yeah, that makes perfect sense. So when is he going to pull out “Once you go black, you never go back” and “Where all de white women at”?
Shawn Michaels over Shelton Benjamin, Gold Rush Tournament First Round Match (Pinfall, Sweet Chimp Music): I can imagine the conversation before this match. Benjy goes, “Remember how to mat wrestle? It’s been so long since you’ve done it.” Michaels replies, “Sonny, let me show you how it’s done”. And so they go out there and do Flair/Steamboat Lite (with Michaels as Flair and Benjy as Steamer). This should lead to a couple of things: onstage, Michaels will almost certainly tag with Benjy at some point within the next month (before the draft, when at some point prior, Benjy drops the IC strap and heads to Smackdown); backstage, Michaels should mentor Benjy to give him that one last boost of charisma that he needs to become…well, the next Shawn Michaels. He’s got the ring tools; all he needs is just a bit of help on the personality and the mic.
Novocaine Helms and His Pet Fat Fuck over Rob Conway and Sylvain Grenier, Tag Title Match (Pinfall, double-team neckbreaker/sidewalk slam): A fake Quebecois and Pat Patterson’s boy toy against the (cough, gasp) new tag champions. Color me enthused. The real shame here is that one of us in the Round Table actually predicted the victory of the Stupor-Heroes at Backlash. Allow me to ignore the tag division until things actually occur in there to merit my attention. Like I wasn’t doing that already.
Edge over Chris Jericho, Gold Rush Tournament First Round Match (Pinfall, spear): A little formulaic for these two. They could have been given a little more time and worked out something a little more individualistic. Did we really the Viscera/Simon Dean match and the Smackdown Rebound? Or for that matter the tag title match? Worst of all, the ending was obvious from the moment Edge walked into the ring. The best part is that the Edge/Michaels rematch will at least be interesting, and be better than anything involving Kane, even if it is Benoit.
Our Lord and Savior over Trip, Gold Rush Tournament First Round Match (Submission, Sharpshooter): First there was Benoit (and Lawler and Ross) selling the concussion like there was no tomorrow, then there was the obligatory Batista run-in. This match was like one giant insult to Benoit, and, of course, it sets up Trip/Batista III for Raw next week. My stomach is hurting.
Angle Developments:
Sartorial And Booking Choices: And so the face turn of Daivari begins. It had to happen, folks; he’s the one of that duo getting the pops and the heat. Depending on how he does in his upcoming feud with Hassan, he could easily become Christian’s next feud. But how insulting is that to the audience? An Arab-American has to be presented as a heel first, establish heat, and then get turned? Here’s a concept: how about building an Arab-American from the ground up as a face? Or is this just expedience, reacting to the Lynndie England trial as well as the other courts-martial taking place at Fort Hood as per Abu Ghraib? Do they think that since Americans are now being formally certified as the villains in that atrocity that America is ready for an Arab face? Yet again, “creative” is playing toward the mindless sheep in the audience. Revolting. As for the sartorial choices, do either of these guys have any suits that aren’t tan, brown, or olive? Hassan should try a navy blue pinstripe; unlike Batista, he’d look good in it (and Batista wore another goddamn pinstripe; Dave, I know you read me, so please take my advice).
Quite Descriptive: Edge pulled out the best insult I’ve ever heard that’s been lobbed toward Todd Grisham, and there have been a number of them: “chump stain”. That’s quite appropriate. Wonder if he had practice calling Matt Hardy that?
Oh, that’s enough for this. I’ll have something better tomorrow (I already have one thing set up thanks to Aussie Bureau Chief Brett Wortham, and maybe there’ll be some news to go along with it). Until then, I have to go to work. Shit.
