Welcome to a very special "Best of Cewsh Reviews" Edition of, well, Cewsh Reviews. We're working hard to make sure that you are provided with every penny's worth of the zero dollars you spend on our fine entertainment, so we thought we'd give you something nice and shiny from the vault to tide you over until the next review. Its okay, don't thank us. After reading more about this show, you may consider it a punishment...
Welcome, cats and kittens, to yet another installment of the ass kickingest review in all the land. We’re also in the top 10 for ocean fairing reviews as well, which is nothing to sneeze at. Tonight, we have something a little different in store for you. It’s been a few months since we rolled out a review of an independent show, what with Japanese wrestlers lariating each other and Dixie and Vince fighting over the spotlight. Now, we have plucked an easily missed gem from the wreckage heap of the American independent scene, and boy is it a doozy. This is what happens when you pick shows at random, boys and girls. Be advised. Here, we will be reviewing IWA: East Coast’s Need to Bleed. I’m not exactly sure who has said need to bleed, but seeing as this is an “east coast” promotion stationed in northern West Virginia; I’m pretty sure the whole title is a lie out the gate.
Sometimes we enjoy the responsibility of assigning words to the greatest matches ever wrestled. At times, we here at Cewsh Reviews… are faced with matches and feuds so epic, so tremendously well done, it’s almost troubling attempting to do them justice. Sometimes, the immortals of the wrestling world deliver performances that echo through the ages and make us feel every emotion possible throughout their industry changing performances. And then, on the other hand, sometimes we watch shows like this.
So with that, barely adequate advisory in place, let’s do a motherfucking review, shall we?
Vice: This event is already off to a dreadful start. No opening ANYTHING. Literally the show just starts off with a screen showing the names of the people in the first match.
The first fuckhead looks like a goddamn.. well.. fuckhead. He keeps yelling “I AM THE GREATEST WRESTLER ALIVE TODAY!!!” on his way to the ring. You know what that means? He’s a heel! A cocky, arrogant heel! And probably dastardly as well. But he’s a twig and looks like a fuckhead as I have previously stated. The second guy looks even worse. He’s the size of Hero! and has a really stupid looking body. He’s not fat, but he’s got very stubby limbs so he looks quite stupid. He’s also wearing stupid colors. And kickpads.
Right off the bat, the commentary is absolutely dreadful. They’re not really taking the action seriously and trying to really talk about the match and shit. They’re commentating like someone said “guys, you need to be REALLY funny because this show is going to fucking suck.. so we’re counting on you!”. So, they’re trying way too hard to be “cool” and “funny” and they can go fuck themselves.
This match, from THE second the bell rings (and I mean THE second the bell rings) you can just smell the stench of this match and its participants, and the federation as a whole. This makes me fear for the next generation of wrestlers. Did you know that these two people actually paid LOTS of money to get trained, and someone actually TRAINED them for LOTS of money, and actually gave these guys the two thumbs up to go out and perform in front of people and have their matches distributed on DVD? It’s just depressing.
The orange idiot (the face) does a really disgusting doublestomp to the heel when he’s stretched out across a ladder that’s propped up on the apron and the guard rail. He just landed on the dude in a spot that was amazingly unsafe. Then like two seconds later, the heel, who just got his chest stomped into oblivion, powerbombs the face onto the very same ladder, and the dude just slides off and falls right on his dome. So unsafe. These guys are just doing spots without any concern for the other person’s well-being. Not good.
CANADIAN DESTROYER! Oh man! An actual move! It looks like a finisher! The face is down! Oh wait, the guy kicks out at two.
CANADIAN DESTROYER ONTO A STEEL CHAIR! HOLY SHIT! The face is definitely not ki--- HOLY SHIT!!! HE KICKED OUT AT 2.301!!!
CANADIAN DESTROYER OFF THE TOP ROPE AND ONTO A LADDER THAT IS BEING PROPPED UP BY TWO CHAIRS!!!!! HOLY MOTHER OF FUCKING HELL!!!! THE FACE IS DEAD. THE HEEL WINS! THE HEEL WINS! ..and the face’s music starts playing! Whoops?
I really wish I was making this up, but I’m not. This was the very first fucking match, and these guys have already killed each other, done all the highest of high spots, kicked out of finishers, kicked out of finishers onto chairs, and have had one of the most shittily epic encounters I have seen in my life.. and this was THE FIRST FUCKING MATCH. Jesus. Just so you know, that’s a bad thing. A very bad thing. You can’t just go out and try to steal the fucking show in the first match. That’s greedy and dickish. Plus the match represents, I believe, EVERYTHING that is wrong with independent professional wrestling as we know it. Holy shit. Wow. Just.. wow. Yikes. Fuuuuuck.
$10 says these two thought they had a five star match when they went to the locker room. They probably think they’re fantastic workers wondering when the day will come when the big leagues give them a call to come work for them so they can throw the World Heavyweight Championship on them and give them a 7 figure contract and oodles of merchandise.
FUCK ME.
Cewsh: This is fucking amazing.
I have no idea how to call this match. Like none, whatsoever. The match starts off with some of the worst offense I have ever seen in a professional wrestling ring. Sloppy kicks, botched suplexs, moonsaults that hit the ref instead of the other wrestler, oh yes, its all here. Hell, Desmond actually manages to botch putting a chair in the ring. He picks up a chair, tries to put it under the ropes, slowly and gently, and…misses. That is the kind of care and ring awareness possessed by this stalwart crew. Remember this moment for later, as well. He lacked the hand eye coordination to lay an object on the floor.
Then the ladder gets involved. There are various contrived moves done on the ladder, from back drops, to Swantons, to something which the announcers could only describe as a “lightsabre duel, with ladders”. And let’s talk about those announcers for a minute. These two absolute nobodies are murdering each other (on accident) in the ring, and these guys spend at least half of the match talking about subjects ranging from Star Wars to Kentucky Fried Chicken. They spend the other half of the match talking about how hilariously bad and crappy THEIR OWN WRESTLERS ARE, and when a big move does happen, the color commentator drops the F Bomb so many times that I thought I was listening to the directors commentary from Goodfellas. And the worst part is, they actually entertained me more than this match managed to.
I digress. Back to the action.
Finally the wrestlers get to the outside of the ring, where a ladder is propped up on the ring apron and the guard rail. Desmond then proceeds to call for the Canadian Destroyer. Is he Canadian? Does he know Petey Williams? I have no idea, but it doesn’t matter much, since the announcers have never heard of the move. It gets reversed anyway, resulting in Desmond getting set gently on the ladder. Up Draven goes to the top rope, and down he comes with a Double Stomp directly on Desmond’s neck that made me cringe. Apparently Desmond was fine though, because he IMMEDIATELY hopped up and powerbombed Draven on the ladder, rolled him into the ring, and hit the Canadian Destroyer so poorly that I thought Draven had countered it for a minute. Just like Linda McMahon teaches at the Linda McMahon Academy of Counters and Reversals, the easiest way to reverse a move is to just fall over halfway through and pretend to be hurt. There’s no fighting it!
The Linda McMahon Academy of Counters and Reversals. Apply today!
That should be the end of the match, seeing as the Canadian Destroyer has been established as a killing move in a promotion far more prestigious than this one, but NO! Draven kicks out to scattered indifference from the sellout crowd of 11 family members and hobos. Then, Desmond promptly hits the Canadian Destroyer AGAIN, and Draven kicks out, AGAIN. And at this point I start to get very worried. Those were two credible finishes he just kicked out of. What is the finish actually going to be, if he’s kicking out of a flip piledriver? It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?
Oh yes. Oh yes it will.
The shenanigans continue for awhile, until Desmond sets a ladder up suspended on two chairs perpendicular from one of the corners. He then takes Draven up to the top rope, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. There is no way this is actually going to happen. Nobody is going to do something this mind numbingly retarded for $20 and a pat on the back, are they? Oh yes they are.
Top Rope Canadian Destroyer on the ladder.
Obviously the match is over at this point, but that is academic. The true story here is what in the motherfucking motherfuck were they thinking? Not only is that among the stupidest and most dangerous moves I have ever seen performed, but it was performed by a guy with the hand eye coordination of a retarded molerat, after a 20 minute match, in the FIRST MATCH OF THE SHOW. That’s right, something WORSE now has to happen to make this only opening match quality. Are you fucking kidding me? Like is this seriously something that I just witnessed? Immediately upon impact, Desmond grabs his leg with such a look of pure, unchecked pain that I just want to put a cigarette out on his eye and tell him, “No shit, Sherlock, that’s what happens.” For Draven’s part, he sells it fine, even though the slow motion shows that the only thing that hit the ladder was Desmond’s calf, causing it to bend in a direction that nature never intended. Smooth move, ex lax. Maybe next time you’ll consider using a suplex as a finishing move, so you don’t spend your $20 pay off from this show on the co pay for your hospital bills.
For fuck’s sake.
7 out of 100.
Cewsh: And things just keep getting better.
Here we have The Murder Junkies, who both look like they’re trying their best to win a Hernandez (from TNA) lookalike contest. Then we have the Day Brothers, one of whom is a chubby short guy, and the other who looks exactly like the skinny crackhead who sits outside my gas station every day. His chest is actually CONCAVE for fuck’s sake. The Murder Junkies are both over 6 feet tall and over 250 pounds. The Day Brothers might have a COMBINED weight of 250 pounds, and both of them make Aaron Draven look like Andre the Giant.
The match? Yeah, this is a squash match. The Murder Junkies attempt to maim the Day Brothers for a solid 20 minutes, without the Day brothers ever getting in any significant offense. When I say maim, for the record, I don’t mean psychology wise. The Murder Junkies have no idea what they’re doing and just throw the other guys recklessly and unprotected into all sorts of chairs, walls, and everything else. We’ve made fun of wrestlers for sucking at their chosen profession before, but never before have I seen anyone (and I saw Jay Leno wrestle) who simply had no ability or inclination to protect their opponents in the ring. The skinny crackhead-looking one, especially, gets beaten up so badly that I actually started cringing. I couldn’t even watch parts of this. Towards the end, one of the Murder Junkies hits finisher after finisher on one of the Day Brothers but refuses to pin him, continually pulling his shoulder up to hurt him more, before a mishap causes the Day brothers to hit a sloppy looking Swanton out of nowhere and win the match.
Oh and by the way? The Day Brothers were the heels, and the Murder Junkies were the faces. This was not mentioned until the conclusion of the match.
Wank.
5 out of 100.
Vice: AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA
Ok, so two white guys come out. They almost look like LAX with their attire. Out next are two fucking morons that look like they’re just random guys off the street. One guy is an absolute twig. It’s the body type I picture The_Mike having. No offense to The_Mike or anything, but I’m just sayin’.
So this match is another indy shitfest. The skinny guys are flying all over the place and doing moonsaults for absolutely no reason other than to do moonsaults. It’s just a crapfest. The commentators are cursing more than me, which is not only unprofessional as all fucking hell, but it feels very forced. My cursing is not forced at all. Straight from the heart, fuckers.
These guys are just so unsafe. They don’t know how to take bumps properly. They don’t know how to protect their opponents when they throw them around like ragdolls. If they get injured, they get injured. That’s just awful form.
I’m almost speechless by the awfulness that is this match. It’s seriously one of the worst matches I’ve ever seen in my life. The previous one was also terrible, but the difference was that I was laughing my ass off throughout that entire match. This one is just dreary and miserable.
Cewsh: Post match, the Murder Junkies hold down their manager and staple him with a staple gun. Then they leave. What the fuck kind of bizarre world have I wandered into here? Jesus Christ.
Vice: So, here’s the breakdown:
One guy looks like he actually can wrestle to a degree (can I get a HOLY SHIT! chant?) and seriously wants to become a name one day. His entrance music does not play, and he makes sure to yell out that it did not play last month either. Poor guy. In the land of the broke, this guy has a nickel. In a pile of ash, he is but a single ember. He is a drop of water in a desert. He is a… yeah, I’ll shut the fuck up.
One guy looks like he saw a Jeff Hardy match, was blown away by his image and daredevil style, put down his blunt and was like “whoooooaaaa dude, that looks fuuuuuuun”, paid some dickwad all the money he could muster up, and the dickwad didn’t really train him for shit, and now here he is. He has a pretty cool entrance though. He hands a fan some blank posterboard and graffitis his name onto it. Very unique, I must say.
The last guy looks like some Hawaiian nightclub dancer, and relies on his dance moves, his apparent lack of vertebrae and ridiculously overused kicks. He also doesn’t know how to be a heel, really. One second he’s flipping around the outside of the ring, the next he’s just flicking people off. He has no idea how to get heat and be an actual character. Blah.
By far the best match yet, although that’s hardly saying much. There was some sick nasty awesome stuff in this match, but there were more botches than properly done moves. If JR was calling this match, I wouldn’t dare want to know how many times he’d say “modified ____”. Jeff Hardy botches everything, the dancer shmohawk does the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over again, and the guy without music looks like gold compared to everyone seen on this show so far. Now, I’m not going to make some ridiculous claim and say he’s going to be a big name down the road, because that’s just silly. But if anyone makes it out of this company as a “name”, there’s a good chance it’s him. He has a lot of tools and somewhat knows how to use them. Xion, I think his name is.
Cewsh: Hmm, this match was troubling.
It was troubling because I actually liked it.
Make no mistake, it wasn’t a GOOD match by any means. There were more botches here than in a George Bush State of the Union Address, (my political humor needs work,) and only Shima Xion seemed to have any idea of how to actually execute an offensive maneuver. In fact, Shima Xion is pretty much the name to talk about here. The second he walked out from behind the curtain, I thought to myself:
2) Wait, this guy is actually in shape.
3) Holy shit, this guy doesn’t look like he changes my tires for a living!
That by itself immediately set him apart from the rest of the scrubs so far this evening, including the other two in this match. One guy, (Zac Vincent,) looks so much like Paul London that I did a double take to make sure it wasn’t actually him. His entrance consisted of him doing a series of erotic cartwheels (seriously) to the ring, while everyone in the crowd cheered for him with such motivation blurbs as “Stand up you faggot!” and “Go back to China, fag!”. The other guy, (Michael Façade,) is a white guy who comes out dressed like a member of the Foot Clan with blonde dreadlocks, and in sort of a cool moment, hands a guy an empty piece of poster board, and spray paints a sign for the guy to cheer him on with. Of course, all of these entrances are hurt by the fact that Façade and Xion don’t get any music. Apparently the music guy for IWA:EC is a notorious failure at this. Xion even says as he walks down, “This same thing happened to me last month.” Sigh.
Anyway, the match starts and there’s way too much action to describe it all, buts I think I can sum it up pretty well. See, Vincent has two offensive moves: the downward kick, and the somewhat less downward kick. He uses both constantly, but evidently forgot to tell people that these are his signature moves, because no one bothers to sell them. Façade may very well have a diverse and exciting moveset, but he manages to both every single offensive maneuver he tries during this match. Seriously. I stopped counting at 10 botches from him, but that was far from the end.
Xion, on the other hand, seems to actually be a professional wrestler, trying and succeeding at a number of diverse and unique moves that really got me interested in him. And for a little guy, he hit 3 or 4 moves that made me do a double take with how brutal and awesome they looked, including a spike RKO, a sitout hurracanrana, (oh you heard right,) and a move where Façade was Springboarding into the ring, and Xion jumped off of Vincent’s back and speared Façade in mid air. Really fun, innovative, exciting stuff.
So yeah, Xion looked like a star in the land of misfit toys here. The match as a whole managed to be entertaining, despite a number of glaring faults. After the show so far, I’m willing to forgive a few faults and reward a genuinely fun match to watch. Kudos IWA:EC, you actually gave me something fun to watch. Please, please, please do it again, maybe even a few more times. Please?
53 out of 100.
Cewsh: Christ.
Eric Darkstorm comes out with his hair braided in the traditional style of the British Bulldog and…no other male walking the earth today. Trik Davis follows him out looking like a heaping bowl of generic indy wrestler. This is our World Heavyweight Championship match, ladies and gentlemen. The cream of the crop, the best of the best. Your champion, Trik Nasty, is announced as being from “Yo Momma’s House, New Mexico”. Lou Thesz would be proud.
Apparently taking offense to both Trik Nasty’s hometown and the announcers roundly shitting on him for about 5 minutes straight, Darkstorm grabs a microphone and proceeds to cut a 20 minute promo on…nothing at all. Oh he casually slips in a topic here and there. He delivers the world’s worst Yo Momma joke, (“Yo Momma is dyslexic, and a Nasty Trik! See what I did there?!”,) then he talks about how he’s wearing Mixed Martial Arts pants and, as such, is a force to be reckoned with. Then, they actually CUT OFF HIS MICROPHONE! Rather than, say, wrestle, he goes to the back, gets the house microphone, and cuts a 10 minute promo about how Trik Nasty’s penis is uncircumcised. In the end, I really wish that he hadn’t because for the entire match, all the announcers can talk about is how that comment makes him gay and about penises in general.
I really don’t know how to respond to all of this, so my brain just sort of shut down, and rejected the images and sounds being presented to me. My thoughts rebelled, and instead chose to have me imagine a tropical beach with Salma Hayek, a waterbed, and me. Hey man, it’s my imagination, right? Also, Mr. T was there.
Then, there was a match or something? I’m not going to lie to you, for the entire duration of the match, I had more fun watching the sketchy guy leaning against the wall across from the hard camera, imagining him running in, winning the belt, then tucking it into his ridiculously oversized coat, and slinking off into the night. At some point in my speculation, the two guys stopped giving each other endless headlocks and somebody won. I don’t care, and neither should you.
8 out of 100.
Vice: What the fuck. Awful, awful, awful promo segment before this match. Sadly, there’s a good chance they gave him so much time because he’s the best on the mic in the entire company. If that’s the case, then.. fuck. Well, if he was purposely trying to be the most annoying dickhead in the world (and not even in a heelish way), then mission accomplished.
Oh, and the match sucked. Painfully boring. Howeeeeeeeer, there was one good thing about it.
Aahhahahahhaa. Gotcha!
Vice: WOOOOO! Actual wrestlers! Well, sort of.
Necro is very hit or miss. Sometimes he’s amazing, but other times he’s just difficult to watch. It all depends on who he’s up against and the scenario. I’m mixed about Strong as well, even though Cewsh is still certain that I love him to death. Strong was fucking awesome during the Generation Next days in ROH, and when he was doing some hot fucking shit singles wrestling against people like Bryan Danielson. Then he got really boring (or to some, he remained really boring) and eventually turned heel to very mixed results. Long story short, I haven’t seen Strong in a long time. But, he’s up against Necro which shoooould be a ridiculous, hard-hitting battle with very little story. Just people beating each other up.
Necro starts the match off by nudging the ref out of the ring with his foot, which was fucking hilarious to me for some reason. Then they brawl. And brawl. And brawl.
To be honest, the match sucked a lot. There just wasn’t much to it, including the crowd just not giving even a quarter of a shit. If this exact same match, move for move, was in ROH, it could have been really fun despite still being a bad match. A hot crowd helps any match, but it would have especially helped this one. Oh well.
I still love Strong.
Cewsh: Seriously, if I were to somehow dream up the match I would least like to see, of all the matches that could ever be, anywhere, ever; it would be this match.
There was a lot of these two just chopping each other over and over and over and over and over and over…
11 out of 100.
Cewsh: Oh yes, you read right.
A BAREFOOT THUMBTACKS MATCH.
They put a big pile of thumbtacks in the middle of the ring. Then they made them take their shoes off. Then they were instructed to wrestle an ordinary match. What the fuck am I supposed to say about this? I’m meant to believe that Elkview came up with this match, so what the fuck is going on in his head where this sounds like a good idea? It’s not just that I cringe whenever they show the close up of the tacks being pushed into their feet. I do, but I don’t mind that. It’s the absolutely impossible logic behind having a match like this in the first place. Do they sell one extra ticket by making it a BAREFOOT thumbtacks match? And this isn’t even a heated match between rivals! This is Collins’ FIRST MATCH in IWA:EC. Just why, why, why, why, why?
They both gets tacks in their feet, as you might expect. Numerous times. Off the top rope, getting suplexed, just whatever you might guess. And it’s all entirely meaningless.
Fuck’s sake.
4 out of 100.
Vice: Just awful.
Terrible match, sickening to have to sit through. I don’t mind thumbtacks being used in big matches for a massive spot. I do mind them just sitting in the middle of the ring with people wrestling without boots on. It was just hard to watch. One guy did a doublestomp off the top rope, missed, and landed on the bed of tacks. That made me cringe like a motherfucker. And that was one of like 20 disgusting spots. And the worst part? THE CROWD DID NOT GIVE A SHIT AT ALL. If it isn’t a big storyline match, and the crowd doesn’t give a shit.. then what exactly is the point of the match? It really sucks for those two.
I hope they’re happy with the $50 they earned for the night.
Cewsh: Well, this match involves these two men tied together with a bullrope, and them hitting each other with the cowbell in the middle of it. Mad Man Pondo is like the ghost of Drake Younger’s Christmas future, and Mitch Ryder looks like if you combined the Sandman and Eric Young, and stripped away all the charisma, leaving only an ugly, bleached blond bum. Joy of joys that I have the pleasure of covering this match.
The match starts off with both men maneuvering for advantage and…
You know what? No.
I’m not going to patronize you readers by pretending this was a wrestling match. Or even entertainment. There aren’t applicable words for how boring this match was. It was ten minutes of headlocks and cowbell shots, done by two men with as much charisma and excitement between them as Al Gore getting a prostate exam. I can’t even bear to pass on to you a description of the pain involved in watching this match. I’m terrified that relating the events might very well make you jump off a bridge to avoid ever having to see this for yourself. What you should all do is build a bomb shelter, take all your loved ones inside, and wait until the last copy of this show has decayed to ruins. It may take a few generations, but the people you care about will be safe, while we above ground will be haunted by the specter of this match forever, leading us to live doomed lives of sadness and woe.
That’s right. This match is bad enough to doom society. Be warned. Save yourself.
1 out of 100.
Vice: Wow. Ahahahhahaha. So bad.
There was one thing about this match that truly stood out, however. It was like 9 minutes long, but it honest to god felt like 30. Part of it was because it was one of the worst matches I’ve ever seen, part of it was the surprising structuring of the match. So yes, it did feel like a very long (though boring) battle between these two guys, even though it was wrapped up in a short little package. I hate to say it, but HHH could learn from these two. :)
Vice: This is everything that’s wrong with independent professional wrestling. Right here. Look no further. Bam. Here we go. The crowd did not care. There was no structure. No flow. No excitement. Nothing. Truly awful.
It was two guys just waiting around, LITERALLY, for the next spot to happen. Rotten really needs to fuck off. Garbage wrestling is some of the worst shit imaginable. I’d rather shove a fork in a toaster than watch another event like this. UGH. I can’t describe my frustrations with this “main event”.
Cewsh: …
…
…
This the worst match ever wrestled.
I know. As reviewers, we deal in absolutes. The best thing ever, the worst match ever, the coolest thing ever, etc. It simply comes with the territory. We want to draw attention to our reviews, so we speak in absurd absolutes to make everything we witness seems more important than it, in context, really is.
Not tonight.
This is the worst match that I have ever seen. It may be the worst match that anyone has ever seen. The level of terrible here is just unfathomable. From the beginning to the end, it was just 15 minutes of torment, sent by Satan to claim unwary souls. 8 minutes into this match, I felt the cold touch of Beelzebub at my shoulder, as he sat by my side to watch, and even HE thought this match sucked. He also ate all of my fucking Doritos. Prick.
Okay, where to begin? First of all, this is billed as a Light Tube Ropes and also a Barbed Wire Rope match. Going in, I had no idea how they could do both at the same time, but the solution is clear now. I imagine the conversation involved.
*inhaling noises*
“I got it, dude! We’ll tape one piece of barbed wire on the top rope of two sides, and then tape ten lights onto the ropes on the other side. BRILLIANT!”
*inhaling noises*
“But dude, won’t that look completely retarded?”
Yes, stoner, number 2. It will.
Viper and Rotten start out by wandering around, not really seeming to realize that they’re in a wrestling match, and not at, say, a hippie jam-band festival, to pull an example from the air. They then punch each other a few times, or something, and Rotten lazily takes Viper over to the barbed wire and proceeds to rub it back and forth across Viper’s forehead in the most disgustingly casual and unhurried way that I have ever seen. Viper struggles not one bit, just sits there and lets it happen, before standing up and getting suplexed onto some light tubes. How did this occur, since the tubes are on the ropes, you may be asking? Because obviously they’re only attached with scotch tape, so both men just wander over and grab them off of the ropes whenever they feel like it, quickly making this a “glass all over the ground, but the ropes are totally normal” match.
Viper walks Rotten over to the barbed wire ropes and does the exact same thing that Rotten did to him, but even more lazily if possible. Then, the rest of the match unfolds like so:
Nothing that either man does seems to make any difference whatsoever, because nobody sells anything. Which is fine, because they don’t do any moves to sell anyway. It’s a game of “Stab You In The Face” and the only winner is the janitor if he gets overtime pay cleaning all of this pointless bullshit up.
Fuck you, Ian Rotten. Fuck you for continually lowering the bar for independent wrestling, and for damn near crippling every single person you wrestle. Fuck you for somehow getting yourself into the main event of shows, when you were a third rate jobber in ECW, 12 years ago. I can’t believe that after so many years you haven’t gotten some kind of killer infection from doing this crazy fucktarded bullshit in every nasty gym and armoury in the United States of America, but I can only pray for the day you run out of weed and limp off into the sunset, never to be heard from again.
Ugh.
There are no further words for this. It’s taken too many of my brain cells as it is.
Wait, here are 4 more.
Fuck you, Ian Rotten.
Yeah. Those are good ones.
0 out of 100.
Cewsh: It wouldn’t be fair to sum this show up based, entirely, on the hardcore shenanigans. Vincent, Façade, and Xion actually had a decent match, which would be lost on most indy shows, but here looks like Hart/Austin. Xion, especially, looked like a guy with real potential, and I will officially label him as my pick to rise above this squalor and obscurity.
Go go, Xion! Go go, Xion!
Despite that, the sheer depth to which this show was terrible may well echo through the ages, until it reaches a far off future where artificial intelligence rules benevolently over human kind. Upon seeing the strife we allowed ourselves to endure in the name of “entertainment”, they will send back, through a time gate, several Terminator robots designed to ass rape Ian Rotten on sight.
To this, I heartily raise my glass in toast. To the robot ass sexing of those who harm us with their badousity! Here, here!
Vice: Ghastly.
Remarkably bad. Only one unknown talent impressed me in any way. That is sad. The future is grim for professional wrestling as we know it.
And you lucky blog readers are getting a special treat, as this is the very first Cewsh Reviews, Review to have the distinction of receiving one of Vice's Videos. This show was so bad that it deserved to be documented in as humorous a way as possible.
This video has not been altered in any way to protect the very, very guilty. Enjoy.
And bear in mind that we ARE taking requests all throughout the summer for shows to review both current, classic, and foreign. So if you want to see your favorite promotion and favorite shows get reviewed by your hosts with the mosts, then email, tweet, messgae or use the inherent telepathic powers of your people to get your requests to us and we'll add them to the all powerful Queue if they don't suck. In the meantime, keep reading and be good to one another out there.
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