Welcome, cats and kittens, to yet another installment of the family fucking friendliest wrestling review blog in the blogosphere (whatever the fuck that is), Cewsh Review! Tonight we’ve got a special treat for you, that is both intriguing and a little bit shocking. Why, you ask? Because we, your Cewsh Reviews party hosts, are actually going to review an American independent show that might not suck. That’s right. We’re reviewing indy wrestling for a reason OTHER THAN MOCKING IT (probably). What could possibly bring about this insane change to our modus operandi? Simple. You guys did it. A reader named Sparky, to be specific, not only requested this show be reviewed, but went so far as to send us his physical copy of the show, thus making us feel like awesome legit reviewers, and making Sparky our Number 1 Superfan of the year. Think you can top that? Well, we do like Skittles. So, you know, bribery is always welcome.
However, I digress. We took an all expenses paid (by us) trip up to Michigan with this bad boy, to see what was up in the Wolverine state. We’ll see if these sons of mother’s have any backbone. Possibly made of adamantium.
Anyway, without any further ado, let’s do a motherfucking review!
Cewsh: Well, there really wasn’t one. There were some vague images that I assume were wrestlers, but I’ve gotta tell you, the little Asian girl from the Windows commercials could put together a better package than this.
And be wayyyy more adorable doing it.
Vice: To start things off, I’d like to say that I was more than halfway through my review and had written way more than I usually do.. when I woke up to a dying computer, which, well, died about an hour later. It’s still dead and I don’t exactly know what the issue is. Since then, I’ve lost my mind. It doesn’t help that I have to redo a lot of reviewing, so the spontaneity may not be there.
In this first match, there’s a lot of story. Not so much in the actual wrestling, because there absolutely is none, but because this is kinda partly the reason this show is being reviewed. Our fellow poster Sparky physically mailed me the DVD of this show. Sure I might have tricked Sparky into sending the package to my friend who lives 15 minutes away, so that if I were to be stalked, well, it wouldn’t be me. That may or may not be true. Anyway, Sparky has gotten some wrestling training. The man who trained him was Truth Martini, who is one of the muppets in this match. Sparky, who is a man of taste, didn’t exactly approve of the training conditions and the shape of the dungeon he was to become a future champion in. Truth Martini was soundly defeated by the words of Sparky, and had to complain to his girlfriend Alex Shelley. Alex Shelley then peed on Sparky’s car after sending numerous death threats that Sparky simply shrugged off and giggled about. Ok, so that may not be entirely true, but Shelley really did have a go at Sir Sparkmaster. Sparky went on to do better things like post at Rajah, while Shelley then went on to get a bigger role in TNA. So, Sparky won the battle. Truth finds himself in a match like this because of Sparky. Ultimate victory.
Another person in this match is Zach Gowen, who Sparky is not only a fan of, but a friend of. For those that don’t know who Zach Gowen is, he’s a one legged wrestler that actually had a fairly big part in WWE storylines at one point. The highlight was him in a wheelchair being pushed down a flight of stairs by Brock Lesnar. Good times. Zach has always baffled me, ‘cause he’s actually a pretty decent wrestler. Plus he only has one leg, which makes him kind of cool in a way, even if he looks kind of like a dead fish as he bumps around the ring. My biggest problem with him is that he’s such a novelty act. But that’s because he only has one leg. He’s not very tall and weighs about 8 pounds (though to be fair, he’d weigh 10 pounds if he had both legs), but since he only has one leg, any damage he does is multiplied by 18. All his high flying moves kill people. I mean, his moonsault almost has enough power to kill John Cena. Or, well, put him down for a 3 count. Well, no. It has enough power to make him sell something, that’s for sure.
Tyler Black is also in this match. He’s one of the biggest, dumbest, most awful pieces of sh—I’m sure Cewsh will cover this. At one point, one of the commentators compares Tyler Black to CM Punk. To that, I say L-O-L.
This match right here was the very definition of indy match. More DDT’s than punches. More flips than story. Moves to the left of me. Moves to the right of me. MOVES MOVES MOVES everywhere! And Tyler Black. The match wasn’t teeeeeeerrible, but there wasn’t anything to it. But I’m pretty sure it got a couple “THIS IS AWESOME” chants. Those are too easy to get these days. I’d say the match was a good opener, but nothing beyond that. Aside from the mildly attractive valet girl getting spanked. That was pretty decent, but still could have been better.
The show is off to a very predictable start.
Cewsh: A few first impressions about this show here. First of all, the production is pretty much magnificent for a small indy show that I’ve never even heard of. Not only is the camera in a place where you can actually see what is going on, but I can actually hear the announcers, and magically this isn’t something that I regret, as they’re not too shabby at all. As you may recall from past reviews, the odds of getting to listen to people that don’t make you want to put a hammer through your forehead claw first are astronomical.
This announcing is, however, entirely lost on the people in the ring, however, since this match basically breaks down into Tyler Black and some dudes against Zach Gowen and some dudes. I don’t know if I’ve been clear enough about this in past reviews, but the combination of these two men, in my opinion, creates a vortex of suck so pure and strong that it endangers the lives of every sentient being in the known universe. On one hand you have Tyler Black, who is the best thing to happen to hobos since the beer and sandwich truck crashed on main street, and on the other side is Zach Gowen. A guy who has one leg, and yet can do moonsaults and such. If this sounds fun to you, I assure you, it isn’t. He wrestles exactly like any other indy wrestler, except for the fact that he doesn’t do it as well and his pants don’t fit right.
Anyway, this match is nothing to write home about. Or to prison about, for that matter. Truth Martini doesn’t look too bad here, and some of the guys try their best, but this whole match is built as a showcase for Zach Gowen, and in that regard, it succeeds, because everyone looks like a nobody compared to him. From the standpoint of being a good match, it doesn’t quite have the same success. On the plus side though? Very little Tyler Black. So at least somebody in this promotion likes me already.
42 out of 100
Cewsh: We take a moment to go to the interviewer at the curtain who interviews the champion of IWF, one Colt Cabana. Two things become very clear the second he grabs the microphone. The first is that he is a total heel in this promotion as he completely destroys the fans for 10 minutes like the god that he is. The second is that I know this because I can ACTUALLY HEAR WHAT HE’S SAYING ON THE LIVE MICROPHONE!
I can’t overstate how much of a difference this makes to my enjoyment of this show. When I can hear the promos, I can learn the storylines, so I can understand why these matches are happening, so I can actually get into them and write glowing reviews about them. The idea that there are still companies that don’t make this a possibility is staggering to me. Why even sell DVDs of your product, if what you’re selling is garbage? I wish I knew.
Vice: Colt Cabana is golden on the mic here. I can’t believe WWE didn’t find anything for this man to do aside from wrestle two matches and have a web show about how he is a Jew.
Cewsh: Jeff Brooks is the single worst name for a professional wrestler imaginable. That, coupled with the fact that he looks like Christopher Daniels’ kid sister, means that he is kind of hard to take as a threat. Eddie Venom (facepalm) on the other hand in a 6’8, bleach blonde guy who has a look that belongs in a much better company than this one. While trying to figure out exactly what he was doing here in IWF, instead of being in WWE or TNA, he picked up a microphone, and I got a chance to find out. Imagine Steve Corino for a second. Now imagine Steve Corino without his promo skills or wrestling talent. Now add 8 inches or so, just for the hell of it. What do you get? According the announcers you get the IWF’s Test, marking the first time Test was ever used as a positive comparison.
Venom cuts a promo saying how he didn’t even wear ring gear because this will be such a squash match. He is disappointed, however, when Brooks not only puts up a fight, but proves a thorn in his side for several minutes longer than you would expect. Obviously Venom wins in the end, since this match was built to showcase him, and he does it with a Baldo Bomb even, which I haven’t seen since A-Train left the WWE. Its sort of hard to rate what is basically a prolonged squash match here, but when it comes down to it, I felt pretty decent about this bit. Everyone did their job, nobody looked bad or anything, and Venom, while not looking like a star or anything, does manage to look like somebody important. That’s more than I would have expected.
55 out of 100
Vice: When I saw the competitors in this match (small dickhead who looks like a retard vs. big dickhead who looks like he’d be terrible in the ring), I figured it’d be a squash. It was much more competitive than that, but it was also just about as entertaining as a typical squash match. Actually, the match was really quite bad. The big dickhead wins. Surprise surprise.
Cewsh: Strap in boys and girls, you’re going to want to hold on for this one. Chris Hybrid and Roscoe Jennings are out first, and as they come through the curtain, both Vice and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Aside from the two of them looking like they’d be more at home in somebody’s basement then in a ring, Roscoe happens to have a spikey fauhawk that he has grown out to be about 2 feet long. For no reason. Then The Cold Brothers, yes Stone Cold and Ice Cold, one’s a legend and one’s how I like my beer, come out, hit three moves, and then get the victory. They never even bother to stop playing their music. They just keep it going throughout this 30 second squash, making it officially the greatest squash match of all time.
The Cold’s (Compress and Sore), then put a beat down on the other two before hurriedly leaving the arena at a dead run. But don’t worry about those plucky kids who lost, because they instantly stand up, no sell the whole thing, and wander off.
Weird man. Fucking weird.
20 out of 100
Vice: Alright, so, this was one of the most entertaining matches I’ve seen in a long, long time. Everything about it was just so.. great. So, you have two white idiots that come out. One is named ROSCO JENNINGS. The other is Chris Hybrid or something generic like that, who has a giant mohawk that the commentators constantly refer to as a dorsal fin. So right off the bat I’m thinking this is going to be absolutely horrible. But then two ripped black guys come out, who are known as The Cold Brothers. One of them is Ice, the other is Stone. Yes, that means that one guy’s name is, indeed, Stone Cold. How original. They come out to Outkast, and the theme plays for the entire length of the absolutely ridiculous squash match that takes place. And by entire length, I mean all 30 seconds. It was fabulous. I laughed quite a bit, and my mood has picked up considerably.
Cewsh: Oh my god, I have no idea where to begin.
To kick off this unexpected bonanza of wackiness, out comes a young man who calls himself “The Old Timer” Jeff King. As he heads to the ring, he proclaims that at his age (probably 20, give or take a year or two) he’s getting out of wrestling and into the world of managing, but not before he gets his hands on “that dirty, stinkin’ Lou Thesz”. This cracks me up, and I’m thinking the best has happened, until he introduces the man he is managing for the evening, none other than one Tracy Smothers. For those of you who don’t know him, he was both a jobber in the WWE as Freddy Joe Floyd, and a member of the Full Blodded Italians in ECW, but for more than anything, he’s remember as simply being a crazy old man, and one of the greatest heels in wrestling.
From the second he steps out from behind the curtain, this entire building belongs to Tracy Smothers. He starts by ragging on the crowd for a moment, before launching into a strong of retorts to imaginary hecklers, including “Yo momma!” “Detroit sucks!” and “I’m not drunk!”. He thens destroys the audience and the city of Detroit so thoroughly, that for a moment, they even start to cheer him, before going right back to hating him the second he pulls out his Confederate flag and starts waving it around like a kid with a marshmellow at his first campfire. He then even, no shit, tells the crowd that if they start a “faggot” chant, directed at Jeff King, he will actually murder all of them. Then, out jumps Jimmy Jacobs (pre emo-kid makeover) to defend the honor of Detroit (or for a reason that makes sense), and the match is on!
The match these two guys have is really quite good, and Smothers is such a pro that his every movement, his every word, has the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. Jacobs bounces around, bringing excitement to the match, as Smothers makes them both look like a million bucks. Its not a hugely long match, but it really didn’t need to be, because that wasn’t the point here. The point was that Tracy Smothers is Tracy Smothers, and here’s some Tracy Smothers for you. They put on a great show, and everyone gets ready to move on.
Before they can move on, though, Vince McMahon’s music hits (!), and out comes an African American gentleman doing the best impersonation of the Vinny Mac power walk that I’ve ever seen. He gets in the ring, and informs Tracy Smothers that he should be a jobber in the WWE like he used to be, and that in order to do so he must, oh yes, join the Fake Vince McMahon Kiss My Ass Club. He pulls down his pants, exposing a delightful coral colored man thong, and exposes his ass to Tracy Smothers, who promptly hits him directly in the nuts with the Confederate flag, resulting in a huge ovation. Then, finally, the segment draws to a close, with Smothers leaving to a standing ovation.
There aren’t adequate words for what we just saw in this match. At least 3 separate times, Vice and I had to ask each other if we were both seeing this, because the whole thing was like a goddamn fever dream. I don’t know if this was the craziest segment of wrestling I’ve ever seen, and it certainly wasn’t the best, but I think its fair to say that it is in strong competition for the title of Most Surreal. Fucking hell man, Tracy fucking Smothers. Wow.
70 out of 100
Vice: I thought this match was as boring as watching paint dry, but it was a spectacle in a way. From the pre-match stuff to the antics in the ring, it was just crazy and I found it completely worth watching for some reason. I know that makes no sense, but it was just wacky.
The post-match stuff puts the spectacle of the previous bit to complete shame. After I watched it the first time, I put my Umbrella Corporation hoodie on, sat outside watching the rain fall as I smoked a cigarette, and thought about what in the name of fuck I had just witnessed. I’m not sure if it was the greatest thing I’ve seen or the worst. It’s kind of like one of those things you’d see some highschooler put on YouTube, where they completely mock something, but they do it so seriously and so perfectly that it’s not even funny. So, through various subtle things, this could have been one of the most brilliant segments I’ve ever seen. On the other hand, it could very well be one of the dumbest, most atrocious things witnessed in my entire life as a fan of wrestling. Fuck. I still don’t know.
Cewsh: Here at the Cewsh Reviews Headquarters, we are proud to announce that our experiments in time manipulation have been a complete success. We don’t have the ability to actually go forward or backwards in time yet, but what we have discovered is a way to actually stretch time out endlessly. Simply watch this 10 minute match, and you will be shocked to discover that it feels exactly like 100,000 years. Astonishing!
Dating a man with premature bedroom problems? No more! Turn on this match, and he’ll be an all night stud. Wishing that those vacation days could last longer? Wish no more! Off on a road trip you go. With this new magical time stretching video clip, you too can be the envy of all of your friends, for as long as you want to be!
Disclaimer: If you watch this match more than once, Cewsh Reviews and their subsidiaries are not responsible for any fines, jail time, or death you may incur as a result of your mounting insanity. Cewsh Reviews is a family friendly organization and in no way are “mad scientists” who “toy with innocent lives”. Vicious lies all of it. You shouldn’t believe everything you read. Except for this. And this. And that too.
29 out of 100
Vice: This match felt like a fucking eternity. I think the ring announcer said it was like 10 or 11 minutes, but IK felt like I could have watched the entire Punk vs. Joe trilogy. You know, the trilogy which featured two 60 minute draws and a 25 minute blow-off.
It was structured like a wrestling match, and they wrestled it like a wrestling match, so I’ll give them credit for that. If I had one suggestion to offer them, it’s that they should have wrestled a better match like better wrestlers would have wrestled. That’s not too much to ask for, is it??? Man this was long, and thinking about it is rather painful. I’m going to cheer myself up by breaking a glass on my forehead. Yeah, that’ll be better.
Vice: Jeff King is one of the most entertaining wrestlers out there in the indies. His gimmick is that he’s an old timer, so he doe—
Just watch this:
My introduction to him was at that Fight Sports Midwest show, when he fought a vicious battle against Hydra, in a match that stole my heart. He’s not a very good wrestler by any means, but that’s also partly because he wrestles his gimmick so well. He’s a young dude and came up with a very original, creative, wildly entertaining gimmick. The sky is the limit with him as a wrestler, and I really hope he does well for himself.
The match wasn’t very good, but it was entertaining in its own way. But fuck it, it had Jeff King in it and he destroyed D-Ray 3000 with a BEAAAARRRRR HUUUUUUUGGGG.
Cewsh: So if you didn’t get the memo, this is our joke match for the evening. Yes, THIS is the joke match. The others were just…quaint. This is a match between a man who is known for being one of the most prolific jobbers in recent times (D-Ray) and a man who claims himself to have wrestled for over 50 years, despite not being far enough out of puberty to stop his voice from cracking. Amazing.
Suprisingly, though, this match falls a little flat. Maybe its because nobody told D-Ray he was supposed to be pretending that he was wrestling a 70 year old man, which would explain why he kept trying to fly all over the ring while King was trying to work his old man character for laughs. Maybe its just that we had already seen him earlier in the night. Whatever the reason, I didn’t get as much enjoyment out of this as I was hooping I would, and that’s a shame, because Vice’s enthusiasm over Jeff King was part of what sold me on this show in a big way.
They can’t all be winners I guess.
40 out of 100
Cewsh: So you might be expecting me to shit all over this match and I would hate to dissapoint my fans. I have, historically, been what you might call a critic of the hardcore wrestling style personified by pretty much all of these men, Butcher especially. You may recognize several of the names here from our review of the IWA:MS King of the Deathmatches tournament from this year, and if you read through that review far enough to read their names, you’ll also remember that the matches on that show were so awful and embarrassing, that it almost turned me off wrestling for a full month, and it essentially turned many of you against our reviews of independent shows in general. This match could prove to be on a whole different level from that, and this is certainly a much, much better show. So we’ll have to see.
We start off with this just being a tag match, but one of the guys (Rik, I think), decides to do a Randy Savage impression (seriously) and call Necro Butcher to his corner. Corporal Robinson, in turn, calls out his buddy The DBA, and apparently this becomes a 6 man, and everyone proceeds to start hitting each other with things. Lots of things. For a long, long time. Necro somehow comes into possession of a golf club, which he uses with devious glee, and makes a hole in one with the good Corporal’s face. Then some scissors get involved, people start getting shanked, people punch each other. I’ve gotta tell you, play by play wouldn’t do these kind of matches justice even if there were any plays to play. So unless you REALLY need to know that Rik Matrix did the People’s Elbow to Corporal Robinson for absolutely no reason before wandering off to fight someone else, I think what I’ve compiled here will have to do.
Eventually they actually go to their corners and try to pretend that this is a real match, but nobody’s buying it. Its like if The Big Show wore a beret and a fancy fake mustache. Are you going to mistake him for Hornswaggle? Probably not. The match winds up being exactly the sort of nonsensical violence porn that these matches always devolve into. Thankfully, they went easy on the blood this time, but that doesn’t get them points, so much as it stops them from losing them. On the plus side, though, with all the head drops and weapon shots, nobody in this match is likely to remember it. I wish I were so lucky.
15 out of 100
Vice: Why is it that Necro Butcher wrestles on every indy show we review? I mean seriously, what the fuck? It doesn’t matter if we’re in Illinois or West Virginia, Michigan or New York.. he’s on the show. He works everywhere. Well, anywhere but WWE or TNA. A shame really, since he could do a lot better. Why? Because he’s a candidate for the greatest wrestler of the decade. But hey, if you can’t work for the best promotion out there, you may as well wrestle for every. other. promotion. ever.
And get paid in food stamps.
So anyway, watching this was absolutely fucking embarrassing for me as a wrestling fan. Everything about it was just so awful and painful to watch. Fucking hell. I was willing to let Tyler Black get a pass, but with Necro Butcher on this card in this kind of match, well, I’m going to kill Sparky. I should have kept the envelope he sent me this DVD in, ‘cause then I’d have his address. Knowing is half the battle, kids.
Cewsh: To those of you who weren’t watching the WWE in the late 80s and early 90s, there was a team called the Orient Express, comprised of Pat Tanaka and Akio Sato and managed by the legendary Mr. Fuji. Their feuds with the likes of The Rockers and others are very memorable and well known from the time period, but its been about 2 decades since they were at the peak of their relevance.
Except, apparently, nobody told that to Pat Tanaka. At the ripe old age of 50ish (thanks Wikipedia), the man is still going strong with a new tag team partner, and here they face the generic thuggish tag team, the Soul Shooters. The Shooters, who are referred to by the announcers as the team that Cryme Tyme is ripping off in one of their roughly 700 WWE references on this show, don’t have a good look, good chemistry, or a lot of talent, but hey, they shoot from the soul man. Who can’t relate to that?
The match kicks off with, well, not much. Everytime Tanaka is in the ring, the pace slows down so much that snails are passing it honking their horns, and every time Knight is in the ring, he looks absolutely and entirely lost as to what he should be doing. Neither team really has much chemistry going, though at least the Shooters look like they’ve actually wrestled together before. All four men kind of slowly and gracelessly dance their way through a decent, but forgettable match, punctuated by Tanaka getting rolled up and being captured by the camera looking so bored and annoyed as the ref counts to three that I wanted to give the old man a blanket and a tv with Matlock on it. He then stands up and wanders off like nothing happened, revealing the secret that he is, in fact, the man that trained John Cena to wrestle (you’re welcome, Vice). The Express then beat everybody up after the match for awhile, until they decide to beat up on the young lady at ringside who accompanied them. The Shooters save her, and she spends some time looking at them in a way that perhaps slightly exceeds gratefulness. Awwww yeah.
This really is, as I said, a decent, forgettable match. I’m puzzled as to its “Semi Main Event” billing, but then, I don’t know how hard these teams were getting pushed at the time. What I do know, though, is that if this is the best their tag division has to offer, then maybe it would be best to return it to the store.
53 out of 100
Vice: This match simply was not very good. Since just saying that isn’t exactly entertaining, uh.. here:
If I were to get extremely liquored up, I’d happily sing and dance along with very little persuasion necessary. It’s good that I don’t drink, I’ll tell you that much.
Vice: Main event time!
This was definitely the highlight of the show, and for good reason. It featured actual wrestlers that are good at wrestling. Seriously, how the fuck could WWE not have anything good to do with Colt Cabana? What the fuck. He’s got a fantastic personality, whether it’s being a complete goofball or a sleezy dickwad, and he’s a very good wrestler, both in a story-telling way and in a technical sense. He’s just very very good at what he does.
Sabin is a mixed bag. He can be very good in the ring, or can be pretty bland. All depends on who his opponents are. Or in the case of the Motor City Machine Guns, who his partners are. Personality-wise he’s a bit of a brick, but he gets by somehow. Colt Cabana brought out the goodness of Sabin in this match in all ways. Playing well off Cabana seems to be as easy as breathing, assuming you don’t have any crazy lung diseases.
This ended up being a 30 minute draw, and it seriously felt like an 8 minute match. When the announcer hopped on the mic and said there was one minute left, I was stunned. Now the problem was that the last minute of the match was so amazingly fast and furious compared to the rest of the match, which was very light-hearted and fun. Though it does make sense in a way. It was all fun and games until Sabin realized he was having too much fun, so he kicked it into overdrive and Cabana had to fight back just as hard.
It was just so very fun. A lovely way to end the show. Sabin hops on the mic after the match and talks oh so lamely about a rematch, which I immediately wanted to see. The promo wasn’t very good, but they had such lovely chemistry in the ring that I wouldn’t mind them going 60 minutes next time.
Cewsh: I was all set for this match. I popped some popcorn, I got a couple of Diet Pepsi’s, I reclined my chair back and got myself ready for 45 minutes of great wrestling, between two indy darlings. After 5 minutes, I was totally enjoying Colt Cabana ripping on people and being his amusing self in the ring.
After 10 minutes, I was still enjoying it, and he was still doing that same thing.
After 15 minutes I started to get a little tired of the antics, and especially Sabin’s involvement in them. Charismatic, Chris Sabin is not.
After 20 minutes, I started to get into it again, as they started to chain wrestle fast and furious.
After 25 minutes I was bored again, as the chain wrestling train came to an abrupt stop in Crack More Jokes town.
After 30 minutes I was confused, when this match mysteriously ended in a draw despite nobody really having any idea how much time was left in their 30 time limit.
After 35 minutes I was amused again when Cabana totally stiffed the crowd as they asked for 5 more minutes.
After 40 minutes, I was less amused as Chris Sabin told stories from his childhood.
After 45 minutes I was as done with this match as it was done with me.
After 50 minutes I was left wondering where the hell my cool match between top competitors went. Granted, Colt Cabana’s matches more often than not are pure comedy from start to finish, and I totally enjoy that style, but to prolong it over 30 minutes for a title belt against a champion from another company, in the main event just seems so ridiculous and counter productive. Having fun is one thing. Not giving the fans their money’s worth is a totally different, and much shittier thing, and I felt a little ripped off by the way the match turned off, and I didn’t even pay to see it. Ultimately, it was a let down, and Chris Sabin especially looked so out of place here, that’s it’s a mystery why he was invited to participate here at all.
57 out of 100
Cewsh: Of all the independent shows we’ve ever reviewed, I’d have to rank this among my favorites. It had many of the same flaws that most American indy shows have, but the wrapping it came in was infinitely more pleasant, and there was a real sense that someone behind the scenes had some idea as to what the fuck they were doing.
This show didn’t make me an IWF fan on its own, but it didn’t turn me off the product either. And sad as it may be, that’s not too shabby in this day and age.
Vice: Overall this was a fun show, even if my review doesn’t seem overly positive about it. For the fun matches I have a fun time watching them, obviously. For shitty matches, Cewsh and I generally have a fun time shitting on the matches over AIM. This show had all kinds of zaniness and wacky shenanigans, plus a really fun main event and JEFF KING. I’d have totally preferred not having my computer blow up when it did, and for any other show I’d have just taken a week’s vacation, but I DID IT FOR SPARKY. I still find it pretty awesome that I actually had a DVD physically mailed to me for reviewing.