Dying Time!

There will be little to no intro paragraph this week.

“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…”.

– Fourth of July episode… yeah, they can’t expect a ratings boon with this episode. I don’t have any excuses to not watch, as I am Canadian.

– Sethro Llins opens the show with a kind of generic heel brief-case holder rant against Cena. It’s not terrible, but feels like something is missing. Oh, there it is. It needed a dash of Dean Ambrose. See, he’s haunting Sethro now like a good little ghoulish ghost. He calls Rollins delusion, and reinforces his haunting. Rollins questions whether Ambrose can actually keep up his promise for a whole year. “Of course I can,” retorts Ambrose, “Let’s start right now!” and proceeds to pummel Rollins, and then Orton goes to interfere. Reigns evens the odds and the two heels are beaten off into the recesses of Brazzers. HHH MUST have the last word. Ambrose gets to fight Orton tonight. If Teddy Long was here, it would’ve been a tag team match between both tandems versus The Undertaker. But alas… and Reigns is banhammered from ringside.

In the land of WWE, The British won the title at MitB.

– We’re told Jericho is here tonight. I sort of broke the code less than a half hour before RAW started on Monday. Oops.

Spoiler alert.

– Network shilling.

– * US Title Match: Sheamus {C} vs. Alberto Del Rio. Why yes, it IS as exciting as it sounds. It’s actually pretty good. Nothing to write home about, but it’s over all a solid effort from both wrestlers. They are given time to do all their usual spots. Sheamus lifts out of an armbar and tosses ADR into the corner, but then eats a kick to the head. ADR misses from the top ropes, lands on his feet, and turns around into a Brogue Kick. The champ retains.


– Stardust and Goldust backstage discuss “what’s in a name?”. It’s cute. Then we go to Byron who asks Roman Reigns about his match at Battlegrind (SIC) and shit. Argle bargle.

Stardust watches from above… he is thirsty. The eye of Stardust sees all Yeah, I got bored. Made this shit.

– Bo Dallas comes out to tell us that he’s going to enter the Battle Royal for the I.C. Title. And notes Daniel Bryan is a “special little fella”. Then Billy Kidman comes out! He tells Bo to get a sixpack, to Bo’s horror and dismay. One month later, he is billed at a local indie with Colt Cabana and Chris Hero.

– * Bo Dallas vs. The Uninjured Los Ninja Turtle (Eastman and Laird edition). El Cid is at ringside… but it’s meaningless, and Dallas wins swiftly with a running bulldog and his streak continues. Victory lap. Bo talks to El Dorito about Bo-Lieving he can grow bigger. Then the Bull attacks Bo from behind, so Bo slams him and walks out like a champ.


– We’re at the hour mark… god damn. I need a break from this, so I take one. I got stuck at work too late (and this will happen a bunch this summer, so expect many impatient articles about said Smackdown).

– Jericho is out to talk! So therefore I will listen. He’s back and it feels good, etc. Then along came along a spider, he refers to Bray Wyatt as. He is aware of the dominance of the Family, and he knew it would be a difficult scenario for him. He thanks the Wyatt Family for reminding him that the WWE isn’t all about lighted jackets and returns, but it’s also a dangerous place. But Y2J is not like anyone else they’ve faced. He can get crazy, nuts, etc., too. Wyatt appears on the Bayou-Tron and Bray mocks Chris to “save us”. He is the color red in a world of black and white. Nice line.

Oh, Dat Hate.

– Chris replies about also wanting to get close with Bray. But then Miz’s shitty music plays, and out comes the fucktard. Miz points out his return was epic, and he could have worked with him to take out the Wyatts. Miz refers to his own face as “The Money Maker” and proceeds to enter the ring to eat a Code Breaker to his mug. Jericho rules. That was fun.

– * Big E vs. Cesaro. Big E is still his preacher stupid preacher gimmick and getting revenge for his pal Kofi Kingston after Cesaro blatantly murdered him on RAW. I guess he is in the battle royal too. Frankly, I don’t care about this match at all. Paul Heyman arrives and announces his boy Cesaro to be the next I.C. Champ. Whatever happened to the ARMBAR champion gimmick? That was a waste. No eyepatch for the Swiss man, who immediately tosses Big E around into the ring barricade, the announce table, the steel steps, and attacks him with a steel chair AND and announcer chair. Big E and Cesaro are separated by referees and Paul Heymans. I don’t think this match even actually started, but it is over.

– * Non-Title Match: AJ Lee {C} vs. Eva Marie. Whoop dee fucking doo. AJ is a face now after the double-turn on RAW with Paige. But Eva Marie is neither a face nor a feel. She’s just GAWD AWFUL. Eva submits immediately. The Paige, who I guess was at ringside, enters and claps and shakes AJ’s hand and leaves. THE FUCK WAS THAT?

– Damien Sandow is Bruce Springsteen from the Born in the USA this Friday. They are in New Jersey, and it’s July 4th so… He gets one line, then RusevCrush enters.

I just had the craziest dream…

– * Rusev crush Damien Sandow. Lana prattles on about the holiday, and makes her Putin reference. Enter Zeb Coulter and Jack Double-Cone Swagger. Coulter tests the immigrants…. who invented the internet, the automobile, and who put the first man on the moon. The only good thing the Russians invented was Vodka (I’m drinking that right now). Lana tells him to shut up, Coulter mirrors that comment. Then Zeb angrily demands an answer about Swagger vs. Rusev. WE THE PEOPLE everywhere, ‘Murica! Of course a USA chant breaks out, but it quickly morphs into a “We The People” chant. Stare down. Up here in Canada, we munch on popcorn awaiting WWIII and taping our twigs for tomorrows match of shinny.

Outta this joint…

– In all fairness here. Sandow got the short end of the hockey stick here, as when given the chance, he has made shit into something passable with his random character representations. Tonight was not one of these nights. Swagger has surprisingly found the perfect program with Rusev for his character, without changing a damned thing. That’s kind of impressive. It’s not making me tune in, but it is not making me FFW. Weird days… weird days.

The gun argument in a nutshell

– * Dean Ambrose vs. Randy Orton. You know what? Randall Keith Orton was not turrible in the MitB match on Sunday. Not that that particular match was epic… but it was ok. And Ambrose is fucking awesome, so this will command my attention. In fact, I just kind of want to watch it. I suspect a Sethro Llins run in, but who cares. Fuck, he’s already joined commentary. Ambrose remains bandaged up.

– This fun, and to be honest, the slow pace of Orton works really well with Ambrose, and it lets him sell like a motherfucker with facial reactions. It’s a great match until Rollins of course interferes. This brings in Reigns, and the match is defunct. Regardless, I enjoyed it. We’re out.

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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