Oh no! It’s Friday the 13th! And a full moon! Meh. I’ll tell you that a worse omen is the thought of reviewing an episode of Smackdown that includes the last ever televised match featuring Aksana. How ever will we carry on without the prowess of this in-ring technician, now that she has been released? So to hell with superstition and voodoo, let’s all take a moment to remember the demonstration of skill via botched-knee-to-the-orbital-bone that was Aksana. “Let Me Entertainment You” indeed.

Hoppity, hop, hop, look at reffy go!

“I watch, write, suffer, and succumb to this show, yet have to remind myself of what happened only minutes after each episode. I don’t just do results, more what is going on while I watch the show…”.

I just watched the Stanley Cup being won by the L.A. Kings. Who gives a shit about Smackdown? Not me. This will be swift.

– David Otunga is still in the intro signature graphic.

– They have a new intro and song. I don’t care for it, but that’s what PVR’s are for.

– Team Beta’s music plays and Ambrose and Reigns make their way out. Ambrose comes correct, calling Rollins his former business partner. And he’s going to take down his entrepreneurial spirit. Reigns is convinced HHH sired Randy Orton. That’s awkward to think about it. He then pisses in the wind. Then HHH hops onto the Titantron, and notes there is only one spot left in the MitB match. HHH flips a coin to see who gets that chance to qualify, and it’s Ambrose… he’ll face Bray Wyatt. He then bans everyone from everyone elses’ matches.

I got bored and made this.

– * Bad News Barrett vs. Roman Reigns (no condom match). Reigns won with a spear or something. I was watching the fall out for the cup on my other computer. He did his running kick, and superman punch. 3MB ran out trying to interfere (two of which were obliterated into future endeavors), and Mr. Marble Mouth stood high… his hair still wet from secret wrestler magic.

– We got this, at least:


– Update: Mahal and McIntyre went skinny dipping and were found dead on the shores of Crystal Lake the next morning.

Bored again…

– * Erick Rowan vs. Jey Uso. This match escaped me. I really have no interest tonight. I rewound the match, and Erick Rowan won. Mind you, I only rewound to the finish. Who seriously cares about this match? Meh.

Mondays, right? LOL.

– I just read a non-spoiler match listing. Fuck this episode. I’m done. Let’s just plow through this shit. You will still get your pretty pictures and gifs, as I prepared a few in advance, but this is not worth your attention.

– * Bo Dallas vs. R-Truth. Truth trimmed his hair. Bo is all smirky. This should be A-Typical. At least Bo dances and marks out to Truth’s theme as he enters. That’s worth watching. It’s pretty fucking hilarious. The match allows Truth to get a little bit of integrity, but Bo wins. Then he does his victory lap. In slow motion, you can see his cellulite ripple. And honestly, I don’t care that the man is pudgey, but to think that the WWE released guys like Colt Cabana and Chris Hero because they “needed a six-pack” and this guy gets a second chance on the main show… well, fuck.

– * Non-Title Match: Sheamus {C} vs. Cesaro. Cesaro is speaking in German now with Heyman translating. Cesaro has his wrists wrapped and will not wrestle Greco-Roman style, just fight. This is kind of new. Sadly, it’s Non-Title, so it’s fucking pointless matchwise. A Stanley Cup was won tonight. We get a brawl, as suggested… and long one at that. Cesaro won with a reversal from a slam attempt with an inside cradle.

That explains a lot.

– Bray Wyatt has a segment about dreaming about “happiness” and waking up and realising life sucks. He was told by “her” that Bray would achieve his dreams, etc. As per usual, it’s fun. And he will climb the ladder, but must take out Ambrose. Too bad he isn’t going for the Conn Smythe.

– Then we’re shown all that Summer Rae stuff with Layla from RAW. Great.. so…

I told you all Fandango’s move was called the Bukkake…

– * Adam Rose vs. Fandango. At least the entourage is big. It’s kind of a shame that we’re seeing the dude saddled with a dancing gimmick facing the other guy who was saddled with a dancing gimmick last year… especially considering the Momma-calling dude saddled with a dancing gimmick doesn’t have a job anymore. And I kind of liked all of these guys. Trends. They are sensed. They do some dancing shit at the start, and… well. Lame. Fortunately they actually do wrestle afterwards… but the crowd is dead. What a shame. Rose squashes Fandango in like a minute.

I told you all Fandango’s move was called the Bukkake… Yeah, same punch line, I know.

– Summer Rae appears at ringside in a mask as the announcers make reference to The… fuck it. Not worth even typing. Peter North is not reached for comment.

– * Jack Swagger vs. Big E. I wander off, and forget this is even on. Then Lana comes out and causes a distraction. Zeb Coulter gets mad and yells and shit. Big E hits his finisher and wins. No sighting of Rusev… Ok. Meh.

Watching fools flip out on reddit over milk makes the Brazzers logo more funny. Seriously IWC police, fuck off.

– * Alicia Fox vs. Aksana. Aksana is dead. This is her swan song. Let me fast forward you. Post match, Fox pours hydrochloric acid over Aksana, and then severs her left implant (her own, not Aksana’s) and wears it as a hat while she dances to Achey Breaky Heart. Fifteen midgets parachute into the arena, but Fox picks them off one-by-one with a Dennis “The Menace” slingshot. The dog from Duck Hunt for the NES hops up from the arena stands as each one falls victim snickering. You get achievement points, and make ignorant comments about your favorite video game console during the E3 presentation.
If you choose to be a fanboy, turn to Diamond Dallas Page 3.
If you try to pretend that the WWE ignores female talent, turn to Paige.
If you just say “Fuck it” and watch NXT exclusively, PM me, because this shit is terrible lately.

– * MITB Qualifying Match: Bray Wyatt vs. Dean Ambrose. Yeah ok. I’ll watch this. It’s fresh, in a way.

Sometimes it’s just better to troll. Well, maybe not, but shit.

– … The two titles dangling suggests they might split them again. Sigh. Why? Why do they leave them as two? LAME.

– This match is actually pretty awesome, and worth a look. But I wouldn’t blame you if you skip it as the likelihood of seeing it again on Monday is very high. Of the performers in the WWE right now, this match up is in the top of the echelon. This match is worth a look. I would enjoy watching these two have more matches, but tonight Ambrose hit Dirty Deeds, but opted to run after a ring-side Seth Rollins… and it cost him. Wyatt takes advantage of this, and lands an uber-fast Sister Abigail. Two hours, two decent matches.

– Not much changes.

– Congratulations to the L.A. Kings, our 2014 Stanley Cup champions.

I criticize because I care. I did enjoy the show. I wouldn’t watch if I didn’t love this shit.

The WWE logo comes up, and I’m out.

I land my finisher, the “Delete Recording” and call it a night.

Tell me I’m a retard on Twitter! Yes, you can mock me on social media now here: @GoftheInternet




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Sept 6, 2013. I am a clone of G. I am currently handcuffed to one of the lower legs of G’s sofa in his apartment. Yesterday, while the real G was at work, monkey nearby shrieked at me to attempt to lift the sofa. It worked! I went to thank the monkey located in an open-doored cage on the stairs leading down to the basement of G’s basement apartment, and noticed a large man strapped into a chair in the basement. I then heard the original G returning home. I need to find his magical device that created me…

Sept 13, 2013. The real Gee has noticed my writing. That stupid fuck hasn’t deleted anything, but he did taze me repeatedly. I still think there is a monkey held captive on the stairs to the second level of this building.
Sept 20, 2013. Made progress today. Discovered some kind of cloning device. I used it to clone the device itself, and hid the copy under the couch I am “hand-cuffed” to. The monkey saw this, but I don’t think he’ll say anything. He’s a monkey, after all. Some dude named Johnny Storm stopped by to say hi. Weird.

Sept 27, 2013. An obese man who claims to be famous magically appeared in the living room today. He told me the cloning gadget I made a copy of has the powers to do much more. Sounded like a bunch of crap to me. I immediately knocked him out and tied him up beside the one the “real” G calls “Barks.” Both look the same. I killed the new guy and fed him to the other captives. I think. They both look the same. All of that future-talk and preventing the death of kayfabe annoyed me. Either way, one of the “Barks” was dinner. He tasted like chicken. Big surprise there.

Oct 4, 2013. So I guess the guy I fed to his doppleganger was actually able to escape last week with help from that J.T. guy. He was screaming something about “his” chair. Either way, G is pissed and punished me all week. He said something about maybe sending me to Fall Camp. I decided to not make any decisive moves. It seems for the best. Just like the WWE, I guess, albeit “best” isn’t the “best” word I’d use to describe the product.

Oct 18, 2013. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to write here. G has been continually sending me off to ancient historical eras to collect random artifacts. I don’t understand why a stool sample from Henry Hudson is so important. And what was the point of leaving a smoke bomb in the front hall of the Palace of Versailles on May 6, 1682? I’m told I’m going to have to… gotta go. He’s home.

Nov. 8, 2013. I’ve been sent on a bunch of weird missions. The most weird was when G sent me back to 2008. See, I snuck former PM Tony Blair into Buckingham Palace and stapled old-people-face to his kind of already old-people-face. No one has noticed even until today. I still don’t understand why he made me do that.

Nov. 15, 2013. This last week was even more bizarre. He made me put on some suit and a red tie and shave my head, and then pretend to be in control of his weekly scab collecting group. I burst in, and told the vice president and current scab champion collector that I was in charge. We bickered back and forth for a while, and then G kicked in the door dressed in drag and began shrieking that since he was the vice president of the chess club next door he was taking over. Very odd.

Dec. 6, 2013: Charles Barkley recently abducted me and took me on a cruise ship with him. We circumvented the planet, stopping at various ports-of-call, and living the high life again. It was really awesome. Then sadly, today, I awoke only to find myself back on the couch of G’s apartment. Was it all a dream?

Dec. 13, 2013. Nope, not a dream. In fact somewhat of a nightmare. This week I was forced to go to work for G while he vigorously stayed home masturbating (I can only assume) and eating nachos. Work sucked. Firstly, I am not trained to do anything G actually does at his jobs, so I looked like a complete idiot. Oddly enough, some fellow who has a Bruce Springsteen complex and calls himself “The Boss” told me that my work had shown significant improvement today. I am pretty sure G’s jobs don’t involve a body count, though.

Dec 20, 2013. Just got back from a reconnaissance mission to infiltrate Charles Barkley’s place. G insisted I take the monkey from the open cage on the stairs with me. He told me the monkey was given special orders, and my job was to get the little guy into the house. I did as I was told. Once inside, the monkey went to every toilet in the house and proceeded to defecate inside the water tank of each one. I don’t know what G is feeding that monkey, but damn!

Dec 27, 2013. Shit, I’m tired. G outsourced me to that dude who always invades via the apartment balcony to deliver bass strings to the bass player children of the world the other day. Turns out, I fucked up and gave a bunch of five and six string bass player kids, four string packs, so he made me go out AGAIN the next day to fix the problem. Turns out, that for some reason, descending into people’s homes via chimney is only considered acceptable behaviour one night out of 365. Or at least, that’s what police officers in 45 countries on the planet seem to think. I have to go out again tonight, but I’m just going to drop molotovs down the chimney instead. Fuck getting arrested again.

Jan 10, 2014. G sent me to the year 2018 to find some lady. Turns out she was laughing historically on February 6th. I return with this information. Not a very exciting adventure, and then me and the monkey play a game called hide G’s sandwich. The crawl space is full of’em.

Jan 24, 2014. I find a diary penned by a version of me, 8 generations ago. In clone generational math, that was about 3 minutes. Weird.

Jan 31, 2014. Today was a good day. I got to use my A.K. Daviel Batryan won the Regal Vibration. The WW’Eh Channel is available in Canuckstan. And the company hired a mainstream darling named D.N. Goth. This is the brightest timeline.

February 7, 2014. Went to the opening ceremonies. Yeah, that’s the ticket. The opening ceremonies. Many were lost in the battle today. I live on. Remember the fallen clones.

February 14, 2014. G said since it’s Valentine’s Day, I have to do something special for J.T. who is trapped in his apartment basement. When I asked why me, he screamed back at me, “THERE’S NO TIME!” and he proceeded to watch men’s doubles in luge. So, I took J.T. back in time to ride a brontosaurus. I don’t think he understand what I meant, but I have to admit, I’ve never seen a brontosaurus smile like that before!

February 21, 2014. G sent me back to lift Jamie Benn’s stick on a shot from the point to ensure the dreams and hopes of USA hockey fans were crushed like the hopes and dreams of Canadian WWE fans unable to order the WWE Network.

March 14, 2014. I was sent to get some popcorn from the future. Corn had become extinct in the year I was sent to. I searched for months and months (since time is relative) to no avail. When I was summoned back, I was repeated whipped and forced to drink bleach. I can see through time… Then I fell down a mountain and some random redhead giant kept shoving his pet snake in my mouth.
March 21, 2014. G sent me to be a ringer in some college basketball game today. Not sure why, he was mumbling something about busting 99% of people’s brackets. I think he really must have issues with shelves.
April 4, 2014. It’s been real quiet around here lately, ever since G took off to parts unknown. He didn’t leave me much to eat, and supplies are running dangerously low. That monkey is starting to look delicious. I wonder where Diddy keeps getting those Twinkies?
May 9, 2014. Finally home. G sent me on a very long bus trip where I was forced the wear a bunny suit and eat these little pills that made me feel funny. Every once in a while, a herd of these nut jobs on the bus and I would be led down to a boxing ring and play catch. But not catch with a dog or a ball. No. We had to catch this oily guy who must have kept slipping and falling off the ring apron every single time he went out to dance. I’m so glad that’s over with.

May 30, 2014. G said there is a special event this Sunday. I asked him what that meant. He looked at me with a dead stare for about 34 minutes, never blinking. Unrelenting, he opened his mouth and then closed it, and extended his middle finger. Great. Now I’m on monkey feces cleanup duty again.


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