Before we delve into this week’s edition of the Power Hour, I need to address a particularly disturbing charge that was levied my way in Scott Keith’s most recent Nitro recap.
Right on the cusp of the second hour of the September 30th edition of Nitro (join the discussion now by using hashtag JerrySagsAsshole on Twitter!) that I might have taken a great deal of pleasure in a random Hugh Morrus / Brad Armstrong match.
Scott – I thought we had something special. I thought we knew each other. For you to so hurtfully, and WRONGLY accuse me of being drawn to an Armstrong brother is something I am not sure I’m ever going to be able to get past. I hope your ad revenue is up, because I’m cashing in my Blog health benefits and taking advantage of my right to 4 weeks of covered therapy sessions. I’m open to couple’s counselling, but it might get ugly.
My bread and butter is the jobbers; which is why I take this so personally. I like to believe that they congregate in their own world, the WCW Power Plant, not unlike the Dungeon of Doom. A land where you must be invited to enter, a place you must obey a short underqualified leader, a location where the water is not hot. The plant is actually home to the Cyborg Machine, which is just left of the Mothership and a block from the Pay Windah. Typically starting with Ricky Morton’s hair as their base template, the crack team of Buddy Lee Parker, Jack Boot, and the Leprechaun work diligently to create embarrassing wrestlers who have no business headlining their county fair, let alone appearing on national television.
No sir, Brad Armstrong brings me no joy. It’s the real men, who stick out like a sore thumb, who are forced to change their names to “Valentino” so as not to upset the Hammer, that really make me happy. Scott, I expect you to do a few things for this blog for the damage you’ve caused.
1 – Please review the gallery below to fully understand what constitutes a real jobber.
2 – Stop dodging the topic of “Montreal” and answer the damn questions once and for all.
3 – Please log on to Candy Crush Saga and send a free life to Dougie; he does not appear to have one.
This week on the Power Hour, a huge rematch is scheduled, where Cactus Jack gets one more crack at Paul Orndorff. Half of that match sounds phenomenal.
TONY SCHIAVONE, fresh from the shower and wearing a shirt made out of leftover cyclist spandex welcomes us to an exciting morning on the Power Hour. LARRY ZBYSZKO is here, but is thinking about golf.
BRIAN PILLMAN and STEVE AUSTIN vs. MARCUS ALEXANDER BAGWELL and BRAD ARMSTRONG
Bagwell and Armstrong have come together through a hometown connection of Marietta, Georgia, which carries more credibility than the modern of system of “hey, I’m a babyface now, we’re friends”. Austin and Pillman move in to beat the shit out of them before the bell, but with peaches and cream and the clear running through their veins, Team Georgia knocks them out of the ring. Austin’s not impressed, and screams at the ref to “TELL ‘EM BOYS TO OPEN UP THOSE FISTS, JESUS CHRIST!” Saturday morning programming! Pillman tries to level Armstrong with a double sledge, but Brad dodges and drives a closed fist into his midsection. Cheater! A hungry Austin gets the tag, and he squares off with Bagwell. Buff gets in a few moments of glory before Austin simply catches him and holds him steady for Pillman to drop an elbow on his head. Pillman calls for the end, but Bagwell blocks a big splash off the top with a foot, and makes the hot tag. Armstrong cleans house, planting Austin with a dropkick, but the referee misses the pin because Bagwell’s being a turd. Pillman intervenes, and a double Stun Gun is all she wrote at 4:01. This was a 20-minute match on crack. **1/2
I may watch too much Saved by the Bell, because I far too quickly recognize the unnamed blonde tennis player in a Pert Plus commercial as Zack’s manager Mindy from “Rockumentary”. If you think my WCW recaps are far too long, give me a 22 minute episode of Saved by the Bell and I’ll bang out a novel.
THE BARBARIAN (with Cactus Jack) vs. TIM DIXON
This is much more my speed, yessir. Dixon hilariously decides to jump the Barbarian … who stands there and stares at him, trying to decide if he’s special needs. Eventually it’s on, and Barbarian beats him with more force than Gordon Ramsay at an omelette convention. Kick of Fear (dot com!) finishes at 1:29.
In this week’s edition of Missy Does the Mail, MISSY HYATT is … not facing the camera, and rocking out on another planet. Eventually she realizes she’s being filmed, snaps back to reality, and addresses a letter from Sonny Onoo from Mason City, Iowa who wants to party with Missy. Missy’s thoroughly disgusted at the notion of partying with someone from Iowa; hell, she won’t even hang out with Tom and Roseanne Arnold. Sonny also asks who she’s partied with. Missy refuses to tell … for about 8 seconds before insinuating she was recently double teamed by the Rock n Roll Express in Vegas.
Missy’s deviant sexual behavior during the Saturday morning cartoon lineup aside, we need to address the fact that 2 years before he tried to buy WCW from Bobby Heenan, Sonny Onoo was brought up! I should probably be completely appalled that the evil foreigner is actually from Iowa, but when he was asked about his hometown he always answered that he was from “my many homes around the world”, so Iowa isn’t that much of a stretch. I am, however, interested to learn more about his trashy white woman fetish. I just don’t see how Missy stands out from the crowd, given that he comes from a country that sold used panties straight out of vending machines (at the time – though this article will explain that industry has now collapsed in favor of the bottle of urine industry). Heenan used to claim Sonny was a man of great taste … how can I trust anything the Brain ever tells me again? The curtain’s been lifted and there’s no going back.
BARRY WINDHAM vs. DAVE HART
Dave is the never-talked-about 9th Hart brother, and it’s largely because of the acid washed tights he’s trying to style. He has the hints of a potentially amazing mullet, but it’s just starting to sprout and has a long way to go. A jumping DDT sends Hart back to the Dungeon at 1:44.
If you thought the premature appearance of Sonny Onoo was going to be this week’s highlight – I’m afraid we’re about to get overshadowed by a tsunami.
Earlier this week, STING was invited to a party at the White Castle of Fear, and armed with an expensive TV crew and helicopter, he made his way to the Rocky Mountains. And, he seems to actually believe it’s going to be a party, because he’s antsy as hell while the copter gets moving, clapping nervously and wanting to get down. On his way there, Sting has time to mull over key questions, like does Vader really want to play a game, and is this a trap? However, there is no time to consider these rational thoughts, because through the miracle of modern television, seconds later we are landing, as Sting reviews his invitation one more time.
The “White Castle” isn’t so much a castle at all – but actually one of the back door portals that eventually became known to us as the Dungeon of Doom. Dark, damp, cold … this is clearly the first time Vader’s had a new guest at his house in years, and he’s trying like hell to impress. A large spread of fruit has been tastefully laid out, and acting as the centrepiece is his oversized horned Japanese gas mask that he sometimes wears to the ring for intimidation. Tonight is no time for intimidation … tonight is a night for friendship. While Vader is completely unseen as we pan the area, you can bet he’s pacing around in the back nervously, hoping Sting really likes the party.
Sting arrives, as a sultry blonde seductively works over an apple. More ladies lie in the mist, eagerly anticipating Sting’s arrival. Vader has spared no expensive tonight, as Dirty Dan’s Pink Kitty Escort team is out in full force, and they are fawning over Sting like a cat over a bowl of tuna. Sting heads over, arms open, as the bevy of beauties force themselves on him, and he smiles that playboy smile. Elsewhere, Vader is pumping himself up in front of a mirror, and Harley Race happens in to tell him the guest of honor has arrived. Vader grins devilishly.
Back in the party room, Sting appears on the verge of spraying whipped cream all over his dong, which might have set off an avalanche … but distracting us is a one-eyed midget, who keeps telling us that Sting needs to play the game. Back off chump, Sting’s been playing the game since he walked in, and he’s about to get more play than Wilt Chamberlain. Except … one of the girls turns to him and tells Sting that he’s about to lose the game. All the women suddenly turn their heads as the music lowers, making one evil scowl after another. Realizing he’s not going to have sex, Sting turns to the camera and tells America “there’s something familiar about all of this”.
After Vader destroys his mirror, he walks out into the party room, draped in what appears to be a polar bear rug. Needing a confidence boost, Vader asks the party goers just who the man is. The ladies, knowing who’s buttering their bread tonight, start a tripped out “Vader” chant, while the one-eyed midget gets all up in his grill and tells him “you’re the man!” Vader groans in orgasmic pleasure.
Sting compliments Vader on his place, telling him it’s very reminiscent of his personality … cold. OH SNAP, STING DONE CROSSED A LINE SON! Harley Race cracks up, telling him he’s very funny, and then asks him if he’s ready to play. Sting asks the question on everyone’s mind … what the hell is the game, exactly? Instead of answering, Vader starts uncontrollably grunting and panting, and honestly I’m afraid he’s either shitting his pants or is having a stroke.
The spread of fruit is thrown across the room, and Vader tells Sting he’s about to show him what a real strap match is … Vader style! Everyone dies laughing, except the midget, who just keeps pointing and shaking like Michael J Fox, insisting they play the game. Sting grabs a strap, and a burst of lightning sets the table on fire. Both guys go into a tug of war, while the crowd gives a half-assed chant for “Vader”. They pull and sweat, when suddenly Vader gains the advantage. Sting is being dragged to a firey death … when the world explodes!!!! HOLY CRAP! Then we’re ordered to buy Superbrawl if we want to find out how this ends!
Years later, I think we can all agree this is the best moment in the history of professional wrestling, and easily the finest sell job for a pay-per-view in history. That cliff-hanger will never be topped. Did the room explode? Did Sting eventually succumb to the fire? Or maybe did Vader let up, tell him he’s just kidding, and to go have his way with the ladies as he chooses? Seriously, I won’t know unless I shell out money to my cable provider, which seems like more of a necessity than an option.
WCW tries like hell to keep pace with the amazing segment we just saw by re-airing the phenomenal 2 Cold Scorpio video – but there’s no amount of steppin’ or truancy that is going to come close to playing the game.
PAUL ORNDORFF vs. CACTUS JACK
Cactus shoves the referee out of the way and starts violently working over Orndorff’s skull. The referee figures what the hell, and lets it ride. Jack headbutts Orndorff to the point of near unconsciousness, but a pinfall attempt only gets 2. Jack keeps on, but Paul throws a desperation knee lift and Jack is seeing stars. A faceplant keeps the advantage, and Orndorff works a choke hold. Jack throws an elbow in the face in retaliation, which seems like a good game plan. A legdrop across the ropes has a guillotine effect, and despite the protests of the referee, Jack chokes him out in the ropes. Orndorff rakes the eyes, which is just enough distraction to pull Jack by the hair, driving him head first to the mat. Jack completely no sells, and slams Orndorff into the buckle before tossing him through the middle rope. Jack charges, but Orndorff is ready and backdrops him onto the exposed cement – yikes. Jack tries to get back into the ring, but Orndorff cuts him off and suplexes the big man across the floor again! Back in, Paul drives his knee into Jack’s midsection, before rearing back with the camel clutch. Jack points his guns to the heavens, which triggers his version of the Hulk Up, the Jack Off. A series of elbows get Orndorff to release the hold, and a running elbow smash knocks Orndorff out. A backbreaker sets up a second rope legdrop, but Orndorff gets to the ropes to break the pinfall. The pair heads back to the floor, where they stagger around like drunken soldiers for awhile, leading to a double countout at 9:55. This wasn’t a particularly inspired brawl, with both guys more going through the motions than anything. Can we just move Jack on to Vader? *1/2
After a quick reminder that WCW has been brought to you by Bart’s Nightmare for the SNES, and that Missy Hyatt’s hair and makeup were done by Super Hair – 15, we sign off until 6:05pm when Saturday Night takes centre stage.