What The Cock Redux

In a fit of journalistic deidication, I finally soldiered through my tape of Saturday Night's Main Event. It was one of the most vile sports entertainment turds the WWE brain(?)trust has ever squatted out. In an evening filled with arm-wrestling, mixed-size tag matches (Hornswoggle/Finlay vs. Boogeyman/Little Boogey was actually the match of the night, just as it was on last week's Smackdown!), and Divas chicken fighting to the hiphop crossover sounds of Timbaland, the night's final match took the turd cake. As it were.

Umaga, Viscera(hooray!), and Kevin Thorn wrestled a tag match against Kane, Eugene, and... shudder...sigh... fine. DOINK THE FUCKING CLOWN.

Look, I understand if Vince was pissed at NBC for shoving SNME into its ridiculous 11:30 PM timeslot. I understand if all the WWE's creative efforts were poured into the One Night Stand Pay-Per-View (they weren't). I even understand if the bookers were exhausted and sore after a night of doing Poppers with Pat Patterson (they were). But there is NO EXCUSE for unleashing Doink the Clown on an unsuspecting public. At least have the decency to warn us that Doink will be appearing on the program! Thank god I'm out of coffee, so my involuntary spit-take was cool, refreshing beer instead of scalding French Roast.

Clearly, this New Era of Whimsy poses a threat to us all. Some sort of anti-whimsy agent must be found, and I think I know just the man for the job.