Watching RAW last night was like if I were to go to Bobby Flay’s home for a fine five-course dinner, but instead I was served lukewarm, canned Chef Boyardee and stale slices of white bread. It’s cheap, underwhelming and out of character for what the largest professional wrestling promotion should be.
WWE has become to professional wrestling or “sports entertainment” what the XFL was to football, a complete mockery of an American pastime.
The Cruiserweights need to be reserved for bingo halls, Elks clubs and Legion posts. That’s where this crap belongs, not on primetime Monday nights. Giving these guys so much time every Monday on RAW is like if I were going to an NBA finals game for the love of the sport and amazing games, but getting the Harlem Globetrotters instead! The point is that all the sport has been removed from WWE and replaced with spectacle and nonsense.
The WWE’s version of a “go-home show” would be like if Martin Scorsese was writing and directing the next Minions movie, like, what’s the point? The final show before a PPV should feel like Christmas Eve. With WWE, we don’t get any gifts in our stockings, we don’t even get lumps of coal, and our stockings aren’t hanging in front of the fireplace on Christmas morning. Instead, our stockings are filled with huge, steaming lumps of s*** and they’re burning in our fireplaces. They’re polluting our homes with the foul, unbearable stench that has become the WWE.
Picture this: your local meat man butchers his cows and he has all the prime cuts perfectly trimmed. He then grinds all of it up with the rest of the cow! Why would he do that? This is exactly what the WWE does with their great talents—they don’t let them stand out and shine, they throw them in the mix with all the garbage. The garbage, as in WWE creative.
Trying to sit through these shows is like watching Barry Bonds batting .127 in August with 3 home runs and 113 strikeouts. The powerhouse left his brain at home! WWE has left their passion at the door, it’s pathetic!
All I can say is that they are so lucky another Ted Turner hasn’t come along with an outrageously fat checkbook and an itching desire to compete for that number one spot. They would simply be doomed today!
There were two things I popped for on this final train wreck before the brilliantly titled Great Balls of Fire PPV: Curtis Axel’s hair-do and Rhyno’s T-shirt. That should tell you everything you need to know about this “go-home show”!
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