What Worked:

You can't really fault the work that Al Greene and Damien put out in their solo
match (especially with Al's second rope "superarmdrag"), but this was clearly a
match between two men just marking time in the undercard.

Vince/Iaukea was Worldwide Exclusive formula, but the wrestlers seemed
energetic enough. And isn't that what KLF's all about?

Jericho and Kidman had a nice little match going for a while. Kidman came off
as the somewhat likable underdog here, as the cocky heel Jericho toyed with
him. Then Jericho tried a powerbomb and Saturn got involved and this got real
predictable, in a setting up the PPV way. But this is free TV, so whaddya
expect?

The ringwork of Juvi and Psicosis looked real nice when they were on offense
against the No Limit Soldier tagteam of Thuggish Ruggish Rey and Gangsta
Charlie. I found Rey's selling to be uninspired in places here, as being the
bookerman's bitch means you're destined for bigger things, like one-note
bullshit matches with the bookerman hisself. And Konnan was the forgettable
non-factor he almost always is. I don't know. We're over 3 years into WCW Lucha
and Juvi's still Rey's bitch. Meanwhile, Psicosis sleeps on the wet spot. It's
depressing in its predictability sometimes.

Didn't Work:

Speaking of Rey, he gives the Big G in the sky a shoutout thanking him for the
pushcito he's currently enjoying. Fuck off, Oscar. If God has something to do
with Nash's booking -- and anyone who doesn't think he used the phrase Vanilla
Midgets is as gullible as a widow taking investment advice from a cold-calling
phone solicitor -- he's not my God, and my lapsed Catholicism has reverted
into straight up agnosticism for a period of at least thirty days.

So, Eric with a C Watts' new gimmick apparently is that of a superannuated
Ecstasy pusher at one of those top 40 dance clubs frequented by Cool Water ™
doused Guidos and wilted flower bank tellers desperate to cash in on the
exponentially diminishing returns of their womanhood and get a man to come home
with them, just once, this night (never mind that their traumatized children
will grow up thinking that they have 66 uncles, but hey). In other words, he
raided Eric Nies' 1993 wardrobe. And back in the real world, we find that Eric
Watts is not a very good wrestler, just as his MTV counterpart was a suckass
VJ. He and Disco have one of them disjointed spot trading matches highlighted
by a couple of decent looking powermoves on Ecstasy Eric's part. But for real
though, Eric seems to work on the tightest of scripts. He had all the
transitions, smoothness, and extemporaneousness of early Goldberg (as if
waiting for a cue from his Papa Bill in the back). But Eric's been wrestling
for an entire decade, making it too obvious that he and Hammer are two toady
piles of shit that DDP's trying to polish into stars. Come the fuck on. If I
sent Malenko and Benoit my old Fresh Jives, some Pumas, and recorded a fucking
jungle track for their entrance music, will you pretty please push them? It
would be so much better than watching Watts wrestle like he's reading
instructions off the fucking mat. Shit, the STILLS of Flair/Goldberg had more
flow. The fucking photographs. Good Gawd! Bang! Too Sweet! Arriba La Raza!

Fit must've realized he couldn't do anything with Eaton, since taking his
decrepit ass to the glue factory wasn't part of this match's script. Some
lethargic mat stuff here, followed by the Fit-by-numbers stiffness. But what
else could he do with the old fuck? Cripple him and send him into a much
deserved retirement? Not on this show, sadly (which is too bad, because one of
the reasons I'm a Brisco mark was when they retired Johnny Weaver in their
early-80s Mid Atlantic run, and I wanted it to WHOO! GO BACK TO 1985!)

Morrus. Meng. Suck. Ass. All Night Long. Whoo.

Tony Gancarski.
Just one hit, and I feel great; I support the welfare state!
Pulp. "Cocaine Socialism"