The Smackdown Short Form, 11.17.06

Columns, Reviews, Shows, TV Shows

In Memoriam: Bo Schembechler. I don’t like Michigan, no, not at all, but you’ve got to admire his timing. The best part is that the now-obligatory moment of silence will be done in Columbus. There are fans of the abominable The Ohio State University who’d rather have anal warts removed with a flensing knife than do that, but they’ll have to for fear of looking like barbarians in front of a ginormous TV audience. It’s the ultimate in “taking one for the team”, really.

Since I know the demographics of my readers, I can put this in without sounding too preachy: if you went out and bought a PS3, you’re a complete f*cking idiot. Six hundred bucks for a console? “Oh, but it can play Blu-Ray!” Blu-Ray’s going to fail like every other proprietary format that Sony’s introduced (and it’s proprietary, make no mistake about it). And giving money to Sony, the company that put rootkits on audio CDs and ruined their chance against Apple in the portable music market by insisting on ATRAC? Good work, people. And considering the launch titles available, right now, that thing’s a six hundred buck doorstop. So you’re a bunch of morons with too much money for your own good. You should have just sent the six hundred to me. Over the past six years, I’ve done more to provide you with entertainment than Sony has, and I’ll just waste the cash on cigarettes and prescription drugs, which is a lot less harmful to you than anything Sony’s done lately. Stupid readers.

That’s the perfect segue into Smackdown, actually, so let’s take it and run…

Match Results:

The Boogeyman over Mike Mizanin and Kristal Marshall, Handicap Match In More Ways Than You Can Imagine (for all intents and purposes, a COR on Mizanin): Oh, dear God, they had to do this to start the show? I mean, I was prepped for this. I did do a Smackdown Somewhat Spoiled in Tuesday’s column. But to actually watch it unfold was…indescribable. The worst part is that you know this is going to lead to some weird stip match at Armageddon between Boogey and Mizanin (the SurSer card is already set). Well, Armageddon was set to be a pretty shitty card to begin with, so it’ll fit right in.

At this point, I don’t care who does it, just as long as it gets done

Our Lord and Savior over Tatanka, Non-Title Match (Submission, Sharpshooter): Memo to Chris Chavis: Dude, cut down on the eyeblack. You’re looking like a raccoon. Or Repo Man. As for the match, meh. Definitely a meh. Tatanka was definitely off his feed (maybe he gets the same level of jetlag that I do), and that caused something I’d never thought I’d see: a twenty-four hour period in which Kurt Angle did a better set of Triple Germans than Benoit. That can’t happen, folks. It’s got to be against some law of nature. But it did, and the fault must lie with Chavis. When Abyss can outsell you, there’s a problem. Please, let’s figure out what it is before damage is done.

Maybe in 1993, but sure as hell not in 2006

Mister Regal over Paul London (Pinfall, high knee to throat): “You couldn’t have two more disparaging styles”, High-Quality Speaker Boy? Somehow, in that one statement, he managed to combine the lack of vocabulary of Texans with the lack of vocabulary of Noo Yawkers. Oh, but it’s a rare misstep on his part, which is why it has to be brought up.

By the way, they potted down the cheers for Regal in post-production. Every single live report says that the place exploded for him when he entered. That’s also worth a mention. Just goes to show you how far they take care to preserve their booking. That shouldn’t distract from a typical good Regal match, and might clue some of the more clueless or people like Hepple into Regal’s true versatility. He can handle ground-gamers, brawlers, high-flyers, or anything in between. And you wonder why I have a severe man-crush on the guy. He’s just terrific, period. And it’s nice to see him get a win for a change too.

He ain’t heavy, he’s my twink

Montel Vontavious Porter over Kane, Street Fight (Pinfall, Greco-Roman steel steps shot with assistance from FudgePacker): I can’t really carp on this one too much, because it was apparent that Jacobs and Porter were having a helluva lot of fun out there. They were actually building up to a pretty good ending until SurSer had to be served and FudgePacker strolled in to “contribute”. I’m not saying that this was a comedy match or anything (although it was close), but it served the same purpose as a good, solid comedy in comparison to the Christian/Rhiyno match on Impact and its high drama. So, all well and good here, but I still don’t give a shit about Porter.

You’d better watch it, guys. I’m sure that the Brits have some sort of society for the protection of bus stop signs.

Mattsy-poo over Novocaine Helms (Pinfall, Twit Of Fate): Must I? Really? Don’t you know the drill by now? Insert gay joke, insert “Jesus Fucking Christ, not again”, shake (don’t stir), and dispense. Do it yourself for a change.

Fortunately, Charles Robinson is a Certified Assistant for the Gay Kama Sutra

DAVE and the Departing Bobby Lashley over Booker T and Dave Fuckin’ Finlay (Pinfall, DAVE pins Booker, manly spinebuster): Since the match was nothing special, I just have one question to ask: how did they get Little Bastard through customs?

Finlay’s weakness is his sensitivity to pit odor

For some reason, Cirque du Soleil won’t return their phone calls

Angle Developments:

Clueless In The UK: So why did the Madchester crowd boo when Booker called himself “King of England”? Look, who’s better, Booker or the guy who’s actually going to get the job? If you’re still skeptical, think of this: who’s better, Queen Paisley or Queen Godzilla? Let’s face it, guys, every which way, you’re better off with Booker should Brenda depart this vale of tears. So stop booing.

Actually, they make a pretty cute couple, don’t they?

One last chance to bask in the glow, Teddy, so take it

Yeah, that’s it for my average five-article week. I already have my Round Table picks in for this weekend, so enjoy those. I’ll be back on Tuesday for the Holiday Week in which I don’t get a real holiday. Life sucks sometimes.