Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Please Don't Cry, Mike Adamle

Much like the six episode run of Saved By The Bell where the gang all got summer jobs working for the curmudgeonly Leon Carosi and his stuffed shirt daughter Stacy (what was the name of that beach resort again?), so too must this compulsory series of blog posts devoted to scrupulously cataloging Mike Adamle's sheer idiocy finally come to an end.

As you can see, Mike Adamle is so distraught about the inevitability and finality of this situation that he is using Jeff Hardy's sullied jizz rag to wipe away the tears. We all grieve in our own unique way, I guess.

To Mike Adamle and the entire Facebuster nation, I say relish the memories that we've forged and shared over the past six weeks: The Tazz, Jamaican Me Crazy, Recreational Ambien usage whilst blogging, the rechristening of the term "tag" to "tap" and "touch," drinking myself to the point of incapacitation each and every Tuesday night, Have Mercy!, suicidal fantasies, a plethora of misidentified wrestling holds and maneuvers, outfitting my sofa with a seat belt, Unos dos adios, repeated ball pein hammer shots to my head and my gentiles, all the sports cliches you can handle and then some, and of course a newfound appreciation for the numbing properties of wine bottled, preserved, and sold in a plastic bladder encased by a cardboard box.

Have Mercy, indeed!

In celebration of my final obligatory night of semi-live blogging of the Joanie Loves Chachi of sports entertainment programming otherwise known as the ECW on Sci-Fi, I've invited over a couple of jackasses that I met at welding school along with some Wisconsin cabin fatties and a couple of my closest drinking buddies to join in the festivities. We're going high-end on the vino tonight...jugs of Carlo Rossi Paisano.

Alright, let's get this party started!!! *Cranks up EMF's masterpiece Schubert Dip.*

9:00PM: Thank goodness I opted out of going to the Barack Obama in St. Paul this evening in favor of an event equally historic, the 104th installment of the ECW on Sci-Fi and the eighth with Adamle bungling his way through the play-by-play duties.

9:01 "We're glad you've chosen to spend your Tuesday night with us." That makes one of us.

9:02: We're at the Staples Center in L.A. Fatal four way between Punk, Dreamer, Chavo, and Morrison opens the show. Adamle informs us that the winner will go on to face Kane in the main event tonight in a non-title match!? Absolutely pointless booking, unless of course the winner picks up the victory later tonight.

9:03: Adamle comments, "If you don't believe looks can be deceiving, just ask Tommy Dreamer." After several minutes of contemplation, I still have no idea what point Adamle is trying to convey with that observation.

9:06: As Tommy Dreamer works over John Morrison, Adamle matter of factly states that "Dreamer is giving it to Tommy Morrison." This recap is writing itself so far tonight!

9:10: Adamle now calls Dreamer "Tommy Morrison." I attempt to set myself ablaze using the Carlo Rossi as lighter fluid.

9:11: Punk picks up the victory as Adamle continues to trip over his own tongue. Exhibit F: Adamle notes that Punk is "shocking up all of the adulation." I say a prayer of thanks to God for not making me retarded.

9:19: Benjamin vs. Matt Sydal (!!!) is up next with -- yep, you guessed it -- Kofi Kingston out to "commentate and spectate" (his words, not Adamle's).

9:23: Fuck Yeah!!! Benjamin powerbombs Sydal into Kofi, who was standing up at the desk making idle threats to The Gold Standard. A motionless Sydal is subsequently counted out as Adamle talks over the ring announcer.

9:24: Post-match, Kofi goes after Benjamin, reigning blows down upon him. Adamle confesses that, at this moment, Kofi is Jamaican him Crazy. I take a healthy swig of Paisano and smother my face in a cabin fattie's ample bosom.

9:30: Per the decree of new ECW commissioner Theodore R. Long, Estrada is being forced to tangle with Matt Hardy.

9:31: Adamle refers to Estrada as "The sharp dressed man with the island tan." I mute the volume, flip over to the Obama rally on FOX News (I prefer to let them report and me decide) and crank up the EMF.

9:33: "Armando is finito." Commissioner Long is out and informs Estrada that he now has to face Colin Delaney, who picks up the victory after countering out of Estrada's finisher. Hardy attempts to generate something other than total fan apathy towards Delaney by joining him in the post-match victory celebration.

9:44: According to CNN, 17,000 inside the Xcel Energy Center for the Obama rally, 15,000 outside it. Impressive. But how many are camped outside the Staples Center, watching the broadcast via portable television and hanging on Adamle's every mangled word?

9:45: I've just been informed the answer is zero.

9:47: Main event time. For living an allegedly straight edge lifestyle, Punk sure does have some serious bags underneath his eyes.

9:50: Sez Adamle: "The longer this match lastes."

9:56: Ah, one last "No question about it Tazz." I'll never forget you, Mike Adamle.

9:57: Tazz describes Kane's body scissors (read: rest hold) on Punk as a classic example of "ground and pound" offense. That expression reminds me to change the water dish of the girl with no limbs I keep chained in my basement.

10:00: Punk is being booed vociferously by the humanoids at ringside.

10:03: Punk does the job...yet AGAIN. Horrible booking. If he's going to lose clean, why not at least make the match for the title? Miz and Morrison attack Kane after the bell. Adamle wonders "What's the purpose of this?" Funny. For the last six weeks I've been asking myself the very same question.


Pencil Neck Geek said...

In the immortal words of EMF- Unbelievable!

You've made the Tulsa Welding School proud.

The Rev. von Fury said...

Some where, somehow, six feet under the ground,
Joey Styles is rolling over in his grave.

Rest. In. Piece....

the rev.

The Rev. von Fury said...

What was the name of that Beach Club?


let me try this again...

Rest. In. Peace.

the rev.