So here’s the deal. Over the last two weeks, both TNA and ROH have put on excellent PPVs respectively. Both were questionable going in. ROH has had issues with PPVs being broken, on a technical level. And TNA is well… TNA, so… Anyways, can WWE follow up with a “special event”? They have potential to put on an interesting card. But first we have to get through the Friday night show. Well, I do. You don’t, so here we go. Yay?

Cedric didn’t need that spine, yo. He’s got his Orange Crush.

“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…”.

You are totally getting unfriended.

– Seth-olution is in the ring. HHH names this “The Authority Era” as they are constantly making history. He feels Orton and Rollins will both win the MitB matches. Orton and Rollins bicker a bit, so HHH tells them they trust each other because HHH trusts both of them, and that there is one constant that is not going to change: The Authority. Then HHH summons BNB out (who gets hurt legit).

Highlights from Main Event air…

– * Bad News Barrett vs. Dean Ambrose. I reboot my laptop as it starts acting funky before this match begins. During the first TV segment, we get a great matchup between these two. It’s fresh. Ambrose ends up winning here, bu reversing a pump-handle slam, into a sick clothesline… and lands Dirty Deeds. Post match, Jack Swagger (with Zeb Coulter) makes his way out. Ambrose stands strong, so Swagger grabs the prone Barrett and tosses him into the ring barricade twice (likely the source of the injury to Wade). Ambrose gets into it with Swagger, using a ringside ladder. They scrap in and out of the ring… but this allows Seth Rollins to attack from behind! “You aren’t going to ruin this for me! I’ve got eyes on you, ALL THE TIME!” screams Rollins at Ambrose. Great match, except for the part when Swagger injured BNB because Swagger is a sloppy unsafe worker.

I did a little research, and suspected as much.

– * Paige defeated Cameron. Err… “vs.” Don’t kid yourself, you don’t care. The WWE has failed to make the non-NXT viewers care about Paige, and Cameron has never been any good. She’s the new Aksana, you see. You find yourself FFW’ing through this review and looking at the pretty pictures and remembering the good times, back when Melina and Alicia Fox had that 5 Star classic. You are given three page-options at the bottom, and opt for page 45 (eat some peyote and attempt to become a ninja). Upon arriving at page 45, you realize you are illiterate. Confused, you place the book down on atop a wooden plank stapled to migrating caribou. “Funny,” you think, “I could have sworn I turned off that lamp in the corner of the room. Curiously you meander to said lamp, only to trip into a vortex upon which Naomi joins commentary with Nat King Cole discussing the World Cheerio Eating Championships. Hefty Smurf wins.

These creatures roam free during the winter on the snowy tundra of Alberta.

– Luke “Dead Eyes” Harper gets more TV time. He speaks of being humble and wants to remind us they have a Tag Title match. Entering the Bray, is the Bray, and he refers to ladders, and the power of the world being in the palm of his hands. A nation of sheep led by a lone wolf. Wouldn’t a Wyatt family sweep of the titles be great? Sadly, it won’t be Sister Abigail challenging for the Diva’s title.


– * Sheamus vs. Bray Wyatt. This starts off ok, but eventually, the Wyatt Family gets involved. This summons out the Usos to balance the odds outside the ring. Eric Rowan stares at Sheamus like a long lost relative. And no, that’s not a ginger joke… it’s because they both kind of suck. Bray and Sheamus essentially deliver a brawler style bout here, so if that’s your cup of tea, you will be happy. Sheamus goes for a submission on Bray, and all hell breaks loose to end this match. Usos and Wyatts everywhere! Bray heelishly backs away from a failed Brogue Kick, and no real resolution is reached.

– Goldust talks to Byron Saxton again. Another Stardust segment. Stardust asks Saxton if he ever stared directly into the Solar System? It’s terrifying, but beautiful. Pretty excellent stuff with Cody here. Goldust more or less does the exact same thing he did on RAW calling it awesome… leaves… returns… CHOMP!

Stardust is a giver. Spermdust for all… In all fairness, I want to see Stardust and Alexa Bliss team somehow…

– * Dolph Ziggler and Rob Van Dam vs. Cesaro and Alberto Del Rio. A throw-away match, but it’s a Herp a Derp episode, so, what do you expect? Heyman joins commentary, and does his shtick. Heyman needs something more, this is becoming very redundant. I keep this on while I surf the internet, check up on the book-of-face, and see what transpired in the NHL entry draft. My peripheral vision is rather good, thanks to too many hours spent playing FPS video games, and this is very run-of-the-mill. And hey… you know what, at least it didn’t suck. Armbar submission on RVD via ADR. Acronyms FTW!

– Post match, Cesaro attacks ADR and Paul Heyman and he do the Dance of Joy. Balki is deported. Zeb Coulter twirls his moustache.

Not sure about how Angle is being handled in TNA right now. Is this right?

– Renee Young interviews the Usos. They talk about BBQs and how they are going to win. “Uso crazy”? Pretty generic shit here. But at least over the last little while we’ve learned that they do indeed have vocal cords.

– Clips from RAW air. Get Jiggy with my FFW button. Now it’s sticky. It’s Tricky. I get arrested again. On the way to the RCMP’s detention centre, I rock the microphone. I also get charged with destroying a government-owned audio-capturing device with a random piece of granite I found in the back of the pig’s dogsled.

Sounds like good advice.

– *Sin Cara vs. Rusev. Rusev destroys Mexico in seconds.

– Rusev and Lana discuss 1980’s wrestling gimmicks. Americans are lazy and impotent. I thought they were heels. My bad. V-Roc Poutine will ride again! Rusev notes, “America Rusev Crush!” Big E comes out doing his Hacksaw thing (are whatever kind of bizzaro world James Hetfield impression he is doing-uh!). They ogle each other and immediately being making out. James Bond is seen in the background shaking his head. He was just informed that this match will probably be an unannounced bout on the PPV.

– RAW clips of Vic-Rod and Stephers rolling around in a pool filled with pudding. Good times.

It’s just a matter of time…

– * Roman Reigns vs. Kane. Sweet Jebus. This match is not for me. Bring on the slow-and-lumbering. I like both these guys in the right situations, but this is not one for this guy. Fortunately it will end with some kind of break up into chaos surrounding the MitB title match… but how long must I sit through it? I check the time, 18 MINUTES!!! FUCK YOU WWE.

– These two slug it out. They toss each other into things, and slam their opponents onto the ground. It’s slow, but brutal. So it has that going for it. Once again, not being a fan of this style of match up, I’m dejected. But that doesn’t mean you will be. Then the parade of interference begins. Randall Keith Orton forces the DQ attacking both men. Kane will have none of it, and goes to grab a ladder from the entrance ramp. For some fucked up reason, he sets up the ladder as if to capture the titles dangling above the ring? Go home Kane, you are Derp. Then Kane watches Orton ascend that ladder while Reigns sleeps, perchance to dream? Orton unhitches the coat-hanger-of-titles. What a shitty parade. Santa Claus didn’t even appear.

– Orton tosses his fake-win aside, and Reigns awakens. Then Roman spears those fuckers. The show ends early. Whatever. See you on BWF Radio 132 this Sunday at 2PM EST. We convinced the dudes from to come back for a prediction episode. If it sucks, blame J.T.

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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