Kreepin’ with the Koopa Episode 2 – Inanimate Objects Everywhere

Welcome back to the first and possibly only 2nd episode of Koopa Kreeper Supreme. I’m your host, as always, Goomba from the Tekken series’ Flavor of Love DLC, and I will be guiding you through the wonderland of mischief that is the Duba-you Duba-you… E. Specifically, we will be addressing the dumpster fire that had a secret cash of fireworks laid in the bottom of that sweet receptacle known as TLC: Inanimate Objects Everywhere. So get your butts in a chair, and watch out that someone doesn’t hit you with it, put your drink down on a table that… someone might put you through… and get ready to climb that proverbial lad- alright let’s just get on with it. And don’t you dare mention stairs.

OPENING MATCH!
BEST CUP TO DETERMINE BEST ZUCKERBERG IN FACEBOOK.
Auditory Epilepsy vs. could you believe I was once World Champion? Accompanied by no one

I don’t know what tickles me more; the idea that I am supposed to be excited that one of these teams will be #30 entrants in the Rumble that is Regal, or that all I have to go on regarding this tournament is the almost weekly/daily/yearly team switches that occurred for almost every single team. I had no frame of reference for anything that happened here, and I’m glad that I now only have to wait 29 buzzes in each Rumble to know whether or not the winner is in the match as opposed to the much more grueling prospect of listening to that buzzer a whopping 30 times. Thank you Marc Zuckles, thank you. The match ends with a sequence dreamed up by the fermenting corpse of Ron Killing’s rap career itself; Caramel falls down on what appears to be a ghost and decides it’s a great time to perform some sick yoga moves. The ref calls for the bell, I think because he couldn’t handle all that sexual calf stretching action. And now the lovely rap band is off to perform for Vince on his private ranch, Stanford Connecticut. NEXT MATCH?

 

NEXT MATCH!
BOYS WHO LIKE OTHER BOYS AND WANT TO BEAT ALL THE BOYS TOGETHER BELTS ON THE LINE.
Twerky Twerky Pancerky vs. A Couple of Dandy Brothers Proper vs. Ice Ice Sheamy (They outdid anything I could ever dream up in this life or the next).

Twerky Jerky came to the dance with strong, gyrating intentions, as they always do. Dapper Rapper Uso and his brother James-regard brought their usual intensity. Ice Ice Sheamy was there too. The clinic put on by these three teams made me think I too was at the doctors, but then I awoke to find that I had passed out in my living room surrounded by pills. Go figure.

Anyway, the match unfortunately could not hold my attention due to this match up having occurred somehow some way multiple times over the last year. I may not be giving these fellas the due they deserve, and for that I blame diminishing returns. DAMN YOU DIMINISHING RETURNS! You foil me once more with your ability to ruin repeated things. $NEXT MATCH$

NXT MATCH!
Bet you got excited didn’t ya? Yeah, no, sorry. It’s not them. In fact, it’s far less entertaining. Sorry. I shouldn’t be though. You shouldn’t have fallen for that. Fucking idiot. Anyway.

Human Resources vs. the Union

The only notable detail in this entire sequence was Apollo smiling and randomly shaking his chair in the air like a loon. Some people looked like rabid animals trying to get at Robber Baron, and but not ol’ Apollo. You could see the “I’m so glad they decided to put me on TV” in his eyes; it was freaking palpable. For this detail alone, I award Apollo his last name back and a life time supply of printed pictures of Crest toothpaste. Because I can’t afford the real thing for him and fuck him if he thinks I can.

Oh, and if anyone is free, I need the required lobotomy needed to truly believe Baron Corbin is the reason Raw’s ratings have been swan diving into the dirt. Meet me around 5, anywhere. Thanks.

Also, who’s ready for Braun to lose to Brock agaaaaaain? I swear I thought I read somewhere something about diminishing returns. I wonder where I read that… ah well. It’ll come back to me-WAIT.

Nah, still can’t remember. Anyway.

N3XT M@+CH (That’s next match for all you people who probably think I need to be hospitalized).
INSENSITIVE MATCH OF THE NIGHT #1:

 

  • Ruby Riot

o   Likes:

  • Condiments on private property
  • Ding Dong Ditch
  • Making fun of dead parents
  • Friendship

 

  • Natalya

o   Likes:

  • Cats
  • Ronda Rousey
  • Trying to rekindle Tyson Kidd’s [insert topic here] life
  • Her dad

 

I’d attempt disgust at this company for exploiting the death of someone’s father, but I’m pretty sure if WWE could have Randy Orton rub Connor the Crusher’s last known toy on his ball sack and pelt the parent’s with it on live television, they’d swan dive right into the concrete pool with not a second thought. I am not afforded the luxury of being surprised by Vince McMahon after viewing his product on and off for the past 25+ years, and I doubt you are either, reader.

I will however, offer my late and unimportant condolences to Natalya and her family, also congrats on the win over Punk Rock Betty Boop. Also, the real loser here was the cardboard cutout industry. Two quality cutouts completely wasted on shitty tables. What a shame.

Next Match:
He’s Short, I’m Tall II: Electric Boogaloo

Finn Balor must make fun of tall people off camera; that’s the only explanation I have for why this keeps happening.

Anyway, this was a great match and one I thought that could have benefited Finn a great deal more had his win been clean. Instead, athletic Guy Fieri came out to show both men his one hit wonder “Record Scratch” and Tall Man was having none of it, much to his detriment. Short Man wins it again for the little guys around the world and most importantly, in the neighborhood.

Next match.
IT’S THE REMATCH OF THE CENTURY BABY. BLOOD FEUD FROM THE BEST CRAMP TO DETERMINE BREAST IN THE #BLESSED.
POD vs. Godsmack

After a grueling match to determine which band died faster, POD WINS IT AGAIN WITH HIS FLIPPY SHIT SURPRISE. Oh my goodness someone get me a Xanax; I can’t handle all this stimulation. Booyakill me now.

NEXT ROUND:

Alliteration’s Baby Girl vs. Fisting

This was one of the best matches on the card, and the reason’s name is Ronda Rousey. This woman just gets wrestling. She has the moves, the selling, the love for the industry, the character that is developing, and a marketable presence in many different avenues of business. I am a fan of Ronda Rousey; she’s a pretty lady and the coolest kid in school. Give her your lunch money. But for the love of god, can someone please stop trying to have her pass off a rest hold as an armbar? I’ve seen (and done) enough of them to know that shit isn’t even believable to my child and he’s fucking ready as hell for Santa this year.

Bonus points go to the Stone Cold Ginger for giving Nia the ol’ one two afterwards.

Round and Round We Go:
Mr. Small Package vs. Something about a house.

I will admit this to you guys; it took me three tries to watch TLC. I fell asleep twice, once during the tag match and then again during this one. From what I remember, this was a great bout of athleticism that has cemented the WWE Title as Smackdown’s version of the IC title. That being said, I can’t recall a single special detail other than it ended with a small package roll up, and that at one point DB repeatedly kneed our favorite southern belle in the head for attempting some flippy shit. I will go back one day and watch this one again. Today is not that day.

INSENSITIVE MATCH OF THE NIGHT #2:
IC BELT IS ON THE LINE

Proof that Vince’s concept of pop culture is quite literally 6 years too late vs. The Checked Out Chuckler

Oh, this match. Where do I begin? Let’s start with the issues leading into the feud, because I’m Koopa Man and I kreep how I like.

It starts out with irons in the fire: Dean turns on Seth the same day they win the tag belts for Roman after he drops the leukemia news. Dean seems at odds with himself initially, hating himself for what he’s done, and Seth even trying to forgive him in the moment. Dean continues to turn what he did over in his mind until the rage blots out reason and he decimates his friend. Seth looks emotionally crushed, and Dean doesn’t seem proud of his work, just that it was something he needed to do. Great start; you have my interest, though I am hesitant to want to have anything to do with Roman’s leukemia becoming a plot point as I have lost family to the disease and I don’t need that sort of plot device in my wrestling show (to each their own though).

They immediately take the piping hot feud they’ve ignited on night one and emotionally dismantle it by week two, having Seth flip through emotions too quickly, in too scripted a fashion, to the point that the only interest anyone can garner in the feud is knowing why Dean turned. So why did Dean turn?

The answer, given on week 3(?), is so that he could be just like any other heel, that the shield made him weak, and that Roman’s returning cancer is karma for their misdeeds as the shield in days past. The story limped its way to this point; this promo shot it dead. All future promos that painted Dean as a germophobe Bane from the smoldering shit-fire that is the Dark Knight franchise proceeded to shiv the corpse.

That is the back story; coupling this with the fact that he would be losing the strap, it really is no wonder that Seth looked like he was phoning it in for the first half of the match. In fact, it looked like the crowd saying “this is boring” is what lit a fire under his ass, because much before that, you could see the vacancy in his eyes. This was a man who was uninspired by the story and not interested to take part in a narrative that exploits his friend’s disease. And I don’t blame him either; what should have been written as an evolving blood feud with complex character exploration and WAY LESS of “let’s bother Renee Young every 5 seconds” by the Pompous Pompadour (I used to really like this guy; he just seems like a pretentious dick the more I see of him on the show and on Twitter) turned out to be a match that got started with a pie face and some technical wrestling; it became every other uninspired feud. Anyway, Bane played some ACDC and the Cackler done did the dirt, cheap. New champ. Huzzah.

LAST MATCH:
THE MOST IMPORTANT TITLE IS ON THE LINE

The product of a rehabbing a character vs. The product of believing in your talent vs. the product of really great breast enhancement surgery (and genetics).

I need to take this time to be the cis-gendered hetero male pig that I am; I need this because I want this distraction to be noted and then filed away for myself, and for whomever else is not European enough to ignore this like myself. Charlotte Flair has procured a pair of very large, very distracting, very visually expressive breasts. They define about 60%+ of the screen whenever she is on television, if the camera if facing her front. There is nothing wrong with this; there will never be anything wrong with this. Charlotte is a fantastic performer and I hope that this has assisted her in expressing herself however she likes. Anyway, I’m still distracted. Kill me.

Charlotte ends up being the MVP of this match, taking some of the most insane bumps of the night, particularly those two table spots. Good. God. Damn.

Becky has taken the next step of setting herself up to be the next face of the industry; I am truly excited to see where her momentum takes her and if this rocket can keep course. What a woman to truly be The Man.

And Asuka… I watched her streak come to an end before my very eyes live in New Orleans. What a delight it was to see her back where she belongs; in the hottest feud in WWE competing for and winning what has quickly become their most important belt.

This match had drama, violence, great pacing, and a conclusion that propels the story ever onward in the right direction. Truly, this was match of the night.

 

And that was the IKEA ppv in a nutshell. Tune in next time as I review yet another PPV for the last time. I’ve been Señor Koopa, and you’ve been… whoever your parents named you to be (unless you changed your name; in which case you’re that person instead). Until next time on Kreepin’ with the Koopa.

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