Looks like another fantastic episode tonight! Sigh… Hailing from our Nation’s capital, Ottawa!

Bouncing Time!

“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…”.

– Crush and Hot Lana enter, and note like Canada, Reigns is all style and no substance. One might argue that we are more substance abuse, and less style. But that’s a story for another day.

– Reigns enters Dat Ring as the Canadians explode into a Jason-Spezza-clap, clap, clap clap clap. Reigns says this is actually his ring, kthx, and Rusev has no chance in this so-called main event. Hot Lana tells Roman to be careful what he wishes for. Roman wants to fight now, but Little ‘Naitch splits’em up, and Hot Lana says, NYET!!! NOT ON HIS TERMS!!! ON… HIS… INTERNS!!! The summer-help is seen backstage looking awkwardly and each other, shrugging, and questioning where Poochie is.

Bosh’s face is priceless.

– Maggle and Never-Climbed-All-The-Mountains-JBL shamelessly beg and plead for us to check out The Network in a sheer desperate attempt to save the company. They announce they will be having a fundraising drive hosted by Stanley Spadowski to help save it from the unruly grasp of R.J. Fletcher. Unbeknownst to them, Stanley is currently being held hostage at VHF, and they have already cannibalized Noodles MacIntosh like the bastards at Terminus did to Beth in The Walking Dead. Kyle and Stan, shrug after their cliche line is yelled, while Cartman mows down on a Sloppy Beth sandwich.

Catching up on my backlog of Simpsons episodes. This was cool!

* Melina vs. Alicia Fox. * Non-Title Match: AJ Lee {C} vs. Cameron. Two problems with this match. First, it’s a non-title match. Second, no one cares. FFW knows little about stopping, and it can’t and it won’t and it don’t stop. Cameron tries to rock the sureshot by leaving, so Naomi runs out and tosses her into the ring.

I has a sad…

– It appears that Renee is interviewing Randall Keith Orton, I just let my FFW keep on truckin’.

– * Fandango vs. Adam Rose. WHEN DANCING GIMMICKS COLLIDE!! Ottawa fans are seen Fandang-o-ing. Adam Rose enters with Summer Rae in tow. To be fair, I liked both of these two on NXT before the main-show(s) kind of fucked up their characters). The ladies tear into each other, which causes a super early countout win for Adam Rose. Total filler content. Is this a pre-PPV match up two Sundays from now?

– Jericho comments briefly about not being about saving people, rather taking action. And tonight he will face one of his favorite opponents in Randall Keith Orton. He’s deadly serious, even when he mocks Bray’s lantern-blow-out at the end to punctuate his point.


– * Non-Title Match: The Usos {C} vs. Heath Slater & Titus O’Neil. Another non-title match against a throw-together tag team. WTF is this? The D-listers pretty much do their job, keeping the Usos looking strong. But this is another short-ass match with no reason to watch. I assume you skipped Smackdown for the opportunity to drink from the fire hose on “Stanley Spadowski’s Clubhouse.” Good decision. Byron Sexton Hardcastle interviews Uso #56 and #8934. In all fairness, one of the twins does a funny little impression of commentary calling the match upcoming against the Wyatts as the other brother flails around like he is having a seizure. Mr. Sparkle.

Totally buying this year’s version.

– * Randy Orton vs. Chris Jericho. 1/2 way through the bullshit match. This will probably be good, though. Jericho can bring the best out of a robot, you know. Bray and The Family appear briefly on the JeriTron and Bray sings his song. The two get underway, and get the multiple segment treatment. Good. This is a good match, as a result. I shit on Orton a lot, but there are more than enough bags backstage this week for me to provide party-favors for. Jericho works around Orton’s slow methodical pace, and makes it feel much more dramatic. This is easily the most technical WWE match this week, and worth a look. Many counters, and great in-ring story-telling. The Wyatts use their horror-segue to distract Jericho and allow for an Orton win.

– * Layla vs. Summer Rae – Great. This was setup with Fandango as guest referee (again) because of the hilarity that ensued earlier. FFW will be the death of the batteries in my remote control! TO THE DEATH!!! Both Summer and Layla beat down Fandango. I don’t know who won. I don’t care. I guess they danced together post match. Ok. I ended up making this instead:

The exciting world of Tyson Kidd and the Bostrich…

– * Curtis Axel vs. Goldust. Stardust and Ryback watch at ringside. I’m starting to tire on Stardust for Cody. I was hoping it would lead to the inevitable, long rumored Rhodes-Bros feud. Perhaps post Battleground, the seeds will lead us to a match at Summerslam? Goldust works well with Perfect-Junior, but it’s still another quickie… Ryback attempts to land a Shellshock on Dustin post match, but Starman spits the goldstars into the Hungry-Mans face and saves his brother. So be it.

Guess what his finishing move is. Seriously, guess.

– * Handicap Match: Bo Dallas vs. Diego & Torito. Sigh. Zero interest in this. We already saw Bo destroy the bull. Bo tells us the Bo-Lievers are his tagteam partner, then kills the unhurt Colon. Post match, he abuses the bull. Waste of time.

The Announcement II was not much of a “Special Event”.

– * Roman Reigns vs. Rusev. They push and push talking and entrances to keep this one short. But after so many short matches, and that Y2J/Orton match, this is going to just be a hoss-fest. If you like that stuff, you will get that stuff. Much brawling ensues, and that’s exactly what you’d expect with these two. They mix in some power spots with submission rest holds. The crowd is lively, which makes it better. Rusev shouts random Scooby Doo references at Reigns as Velma secretly sneaks up behind Hot Lana. They have a special moment, exclusive to the WWE App (powered by Brazzers and Vivid Entertainment). I subscribe and masterbate until the cows come home. Now that my home is covered with cow semen, I return to watching, and secure Velma in my basement in the old Charles Barkley containment unit. Hot Lana escapes, in the meanwhile, which both saddens and elates me in a confusing way. Pamela Finklestein commentates during my private segment and my balls suddenly escape into my innards with Fran Drescher’s nasally voice preventing my ability from copulating with my laptop. AND I WANTED TO CREATE A CYBORG. Fuck you Randy Orton. “I’d fuck him” is seen upon a sign held up by BWF Radio’s own JT atop Mark Noyce as they reminisce about that scene in “Heavy Metal” where a dude fucked a robot.

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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