Raw, 12/29/03
(where JR becomes a fashion critic, Trish finally stops being perfect, and the Kliq owns the entire show.)


-- See, there's a fundamental note about my relation to the normal viewing demographic of Raw: Spike TV's lead-in was The World Is Not Enough, and mine was Boy Meets Boy. Heh.

-- Opening recap: Mick takes his ball and goes home, but not before getting a faceful of Orton loogie.

-- Tonight, my friends, we get Hunter v. Shawn for the title. VIVA LA KLIQ!

-- Hey, look, it's Titan Towers! Hi Susan!

-- Wait...it's 9 PM...I don't think she's there. Never mind.

-- Mick's music hits, but I bet it's just Bisch fucking with us.

-- Oh, it's Randy...well, I had the basic idea.

-- Randy says Mick's smart for having walked out, because *naturally*, he would have just *owned* Mick. Uh-huh.

-- Sign: "Why, Mick, Why?" The guy holding it just completely freaks out when he sees he's on TV. Heh.

-- Also freaking out about being on camera are three guys who are bodypainted "HKB". Ha! HKB! Douchebags.

-- Orton makes Lilian announce him not only as winner, but as new Hardcore Legend. Oh, Pierre's gonna have to fuck him up now.

-- Booker's all, "Hey, I need an angle." His resolution is to "kick Randy Orton's ass and win the Intercontinental Title tonight". Aren't you supposed to make resolutions in, you know, the New Year?

-- In the meantime, Mark Henry comes out and attacks Booka. BT clutches his kidney. No, really.

-- Bisch accosts Teddy Long and MH, being pissy and telling the crowd everything they just did.

-- Bisch tells T&M to take the night off in return for fulfilling their Survivor Series favor next week. Wait, wasn't the favor good any time? He shouldn't be able to push it off like that.

-- Wait, didn't MH already use his favor?

-- Wait, did Ceej ever use *his*?

-- See, this is why they don't *do* long angles anymore. Because people like me have the memory of a fucking goldfish.

-- commercials

-- Oh, gawd, Jackie Gayda is gonna fuck shit up. ...Say, what do you think a Happy Holidays match is, anyway?

-- The fear RVD sees when he looks in your eyes makes him think, "Duuuude."

-- He's gonna fight Steiner. You know, every week I think I've gotten lucky and Steiner doesn't work there anymore...it never happens. Sigh.

-- Porno Pin by BPP. Um. Ew.

-- Lawler: "This guy hurts you every time he touches you." I love shoot comments that aren't supposed to...well, you know how it goes.

-- Hey, if there's a Julie out there, some guy with a sign says Hi.

-- JR (as SS pushups): "I think this is a waste of time."
me: "I think *all* Steiner is a waste of time."

-- The split-legged still owns you, yo.

-- RVD finally hits a 5-Star and wins. Good for him.

-- Hey, a Heart Break Klassic. Ghetto. (At least, that's what my notes say -- I don't remember what specifically was ghetto, so I was probably just being a Spelling Nazi or something.)

-- Anyway, the Klassic: Shawn kicks Sid in the face and wins himself a title at home. That's it, Shawn! LIVE THE DREAM!

-- commercials

-- Rewind: Chris and Jay break up! (*sob*)

-- We segue to the two of them arguing backstage. Mmm...hot.

-- Jay yells at CJ, "You ditched me for a *girl*!", proving that he reads this angle pretty much the same way I do.

-- Coach gives us an overview of what's going on in the Towers, and Vince tells us that he's going to be arguing against Austin's return. Which, you know, *duh*.

-- Also, the writers try to retcon whether or not Vince can make corporate decisions on his own. Dude, it's easier just left ignored. Seriously.

-- Wait...we *all* know what Stone Cold did to Vince in Iraq? Um, were *you* watching it?

-- Oh, there we go -- realizing that, no, we weren't, they give us a recap of A Very SmackDown Christmas. The entire segment is *made* by Crazy!Rhyno in a cockpit.

-- Vince in fatigues. I'm sure there's a joke here, but I can't think of one.

-- Dude, one soldier gets a picture *in* the Crossface. I fucking want one. Does that make me weird?

-- commercials. I want a Playstation 2. And a burrito.

-- Clip of the Dudleys singing, to promote WWE Originals. Note the black-and-white cover of the CD, as if that will somehow make it less cheesy.

-- The Duds talk smack about Mick. Fickle bastards. You loved him up at the Garden, oh yes!

-- Hey, Ric's coming out to carry the tag match! Er, I mean, to guest-referee.

-- JR: "He's wearing khaki pants for God's sake!" And JR sounds *really* offended by this, too. Is this some kind of referee law I didn't know about?

-- Oh, they're just fighting jobbers. That one has shiny tights, though.

-- I'm gonna go get a Hot Pocket.

-- DAVE!!!

-- Oh, um, the Duds were DQed for something stupid, but I missed what it was. I just ran in for TFD. Heh.

-- HBKlassic 2: the Summerslam match v. Trips. Hooray, miracle boots!

-- commercials

-- I just want you to know that right now I am recording, recapping, *and* attempting to eat with a knife and fork, all at the same time. When I wind up stabbing myself in the foot, you'll know why.

-- Bisch has a meeting with the refs. He holds up Flair as a shining example of refhood.

-- Oh, the stupid thing in question was a closed fist, just in case you were curious.

-- B says the refs should get respect. This angle *again*? Don't they do this, like, once every year and a half?

-- Coach talks to Vince again. It's like watching People's Court without the trial.

-- Vince: "We're a corporation. We have to move on...We have to stop living in the past, and look to the future." Smarks, start your bitching.

-- V compares fans to kids and Austin to candy. Hmm, if Superstars were candies, what kind of candies would they be? Aside from the obvious Pop Rocks answer.

-- Terri talks to the face gals, all tarted up in Santa-wear, so I guess a Happy Holidays match is just a belated Santa's Little Helper match.

-- Then, without preamble, Austin drives *into* the interview, sending Divas running in genuine fear of their lives.

-- commercials. Hey, look, it's John Henson! He's got a job now. Good for him.

-- BotW is Slam of the Night now? Well, either way, it's the flying Orton Phlegm.

-- Stone Cold, in his truck, flips open his cell. I hope he gets service in the arena, or these are going to be some pretty pointless segments.

-- RO v BT now. I'll let you know if anything good happens.

-- Nothing yet.

-- If I ever get ringside seats, man, I'm bringing a "2" sign.

-- Kane's pyro distracts BT to get Randy a win. Oh yeah, I forgot about Kane. Like, entirely.

-- K takes out BT, while JR wails, "What is the meaning of this?"
me: "What, life?"

-- commercials

-- Another HBKlazzik: Elimination Chamber I. Hey, we were there.

-- Coach talks to Linda, mentioning Linda's "personal vendetta" against Bisch.

-- Linda: "Look, putting aside anything personal between me and Eric Bischoff --"
me: (yelling at TV) "Yourluvissofuckedup!!!" (*realizes I am the only one here*) (*shuts up*)

-- Chris is hot. He wants to give Trish a Christmas present. Wink wink. Nudge nudge.

-- Trish points out that he said she's only worth 75 cents. Look on the bright side, Trish, he courted his last girl by seeing how many variations he could come up with on "bottom-feeding trashbag ho".

-- Trish...can't really act. (Sorry, Jay.) She cries and storms off. Ceej broods. Me, I just want to know what's in the box he was gonna give her.

-- commercials

-- Austin's phone finally rings. It, of course, isn't them. Duh.

-- The heel divas are already in the ring for the match. Critique time! Molly's outfit is insanely unflattering. Jackie's is almost cute, in a trashy way. Vicky's is adorable.

-- Face analysis: Stacy's top is cute but her skirt is distracting (mainly because it has a drawstring with two puffs that bounce around like the proverbial Testicles), Amy's is just...weird, and Trish is cheating by just wearing a festive coat over a regular black outfit.

-- At least Trish came out cheery this week, even though she was crying backstage. Pep pills, man. They make all the difference.

-- Vic goes straight for Stacy, sounding seriously offended that she's even in the match with them. Heh.

-- The Stratusfaction is just a cool-looking move.

-- The faces win and skip off together. Whee! Girl's night out!

-- Vic helps Molly up, then clocks her with the belt and has a seizure.

-- Austin chews out the poor bastard who had the misfortune to offer him the Co-GM position, tells them to shove it up their collective asses, and drives off, taking the lighting with him.

-- commercials

-- Moments ago, everything happened that I just told you moments ago. Hey, why didn't they boo when they realized Austin was ditching them? Boo, marks! BOO!

-- I hope someone slashes his tires. (I think I was originally going to say "I hope someone cuts his brakes", but, um, that's a little bit psychotic. Yeah.)

-- JR: "Corporate politics -- don't like 'em one bit." Insert smartass comment here.

-- Here be Shawn. Ooh. Shiny.

-- Okay, I just thought that sign said HHH Fears Jesus, then I realized it was the HBK Fish logo. Yup.

-- They are *still* talking about Flair's khakis. Let it *go*. I mean, Shawn wore barely decent shorts when he reffed, you didn't talk about *that* all night. ...And it was *worth* talking about all night, by God.

-- See, they were black. That made it all right.

-- You know something, New!Shawn's hair is always so...neat. It's distracting. It has less personality.

-- commercials

-- Mmm, KliqFight.

-- Awww, Hunter dropped and I thought he blew a quad. That would've been a twist.

-- Shawn's very, "THESE ARE MY *PEOPLE*!"

-- Dear Santa: Next year, bring Shawn Michaels volumizing shampoo. Love, Jen.

-- Dear Santa: Please bring Trips liposuction.

-- I'm shallow, aren't I.

-- MAIN EVENT SLEEPER! Well, for about two seconds, anyway.

-- I'm sorry, I am just *distracted* by Hunter's fat ass. It's like Omega!Matt, man.

-- Dude, commercials without warning. I hate when they do that.

-- I miss Smackdown. Stupid work.

-- Oh, okay, during the break we apparently just had Shawn selling. Psychology, kids -- psychology.

-- A WMXX logo floats up in the corner for a bit. Odd.

-- Shawn just totally tried to pull Hunt's tights down from the front. Heh. Heh heh.

-- Holy fuck, that looked like it hurt. It's probably just clever twisting, but Shawn's shoulder looks totally screwed.

-- Hunt then puts Shawn in a shoulder stretch, naturally -- Flair looks on fondly, like Hunner's the son David Flair only wishes he could be.

-- Apparently, according to JR, *nothing* is as effective as Sweet Chin Music. Remember that when I make fun of this statement in the future.

-- HHH hobbles and holds the quad. Come on, now you're just fucking with us, Hunt.

-- Hunt's in the Fig-4, 3 minutes left in regular time, and my hand just fell asleep.

-- Flair breaks it up, because, I mean, duh. Like he's going to stand by and let Shawn use his move like that.

-- We get a Kick-Wham, but Shawn flips Hunt before he gets to the Gree, and Flair *again* waits until the camera's on him to mug.

-- Heh. Shawn "went downstairs". It's funny because...do I have to explain this?

-- FlyingForearm/Kickup. Flair's not gonna stand for this.

-- Flying Elbow. Okay, evidently, he will for a few seconds longer.

-- You've gotta love San Antonio. "The Band" sounds like gunshots being fired.

-- H takes out Earl (what else is new?) and Flair slides him the belt.

-- I coulda sworn Heb just counted to 4. I'm losing it, people.

-- This time Shawn bumps Heb out of the ring, and Bisch runs down to check on him.

-- There are so many different ways for this screwjob to occur that I can't even keep track anymore.

-- That shirt makes Eric look fat. ...What?

-- WHERE'S THE SCREWJOB?

-- ...Wait. Shawn won? And *Bisch* counted it? What is the world coming to?

-- Oh, okay, Bisch announced Hunter as the winner -- Shawn's shoulders on the mat too, double pin and all. That's better.

-- Awwww. Puppy!Shawn.

-- He proceeds to beat up everyone in the ring, divas up, and gets fired for it.

-- This brings out Austin. Jerry has to try and sound excited about this, sounding instead like he's whining.

-- Austin rehires Shawn, proclaims himself "Sheriff", and Stuns Bisch for good measure.

-- Ah, good old A/B. Such fucked-up chemistry.

-- And we go out on JR having a fit. Happy New Year, kids!


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