October 15th, 2002

Love me or hate me but I haven’t written this column in ages so I’m making up for lost time… so yippee kay yay coyote! Last night’s RAW really rubbed me the wrong way and to quote someone off the Lords of Pain.net forums, it was RAWful!!! And it was symptomatic of the WWE’s problem. When the WWE pushes a main eventer, it shoves that main eventer down your throat until you, the faithful fan, no longer want to watch the WWE’s shows for fear of seeing that main eventer darken your TV screen once again.
And at this time, this is the case for the once great…

Undertaker

How do I feel about the Undertaker? I do not dislike him… really, I don’t… but right now, I feel his time has gone. I mean, the man had a decade of destruction. Ten WRESTLEMANIAS came and went and not once did he lose. That’s a massive undertaking, pardon the play on words here, and no one and nothing can take that away from him, nor should anyone try. He gave the business a great portion of his life and his health and for that, I stand up and command him for it. Thank you for being the most frightening Undertaker in the world, thank you for the casket matches, for the Tombstone piledrivers, for the Last Rides, for Paul Bearer, for Kane, for the Ministry of Darkness, for the Corporate Ministry, for Stephanie’s kidnappings and her unholy marriage to you, for making Diamond Dallas Page famous and thank for jobbing when you have to… oh but right, you don’t!!!
No sirree! No jobbing for you!!! You be a superstar who must keep that superstar status by refusing to put over younger and, let’s be brutally honest here, more talented stars. No… you will threaten their lives and their livelihoods with ridiculous moves that you CAN NO LONGER DO!!! Case in point, a few months ago, you, the American Bad Ass, tried the Last Ride on Test and almost sent that young pup down from your shoulders, past the ring unto the floor mats. And Booker T, an established superstar in his own right as the five-time, five-time, WCW champion, almost suffered the same fate at your hands. Why? Because you figure that if you tint your grey hairs, they’re not really there? Give us a break, why don’t you?
Brock Lesnar is an absolutely wonderful heel for the SMACKDOWN brand. He kicks ass, ask Matt Hardy <insert laughter here>. And with the absolutely devious Paul Heyman at his side, the man’s road is paved with gold. The man wins his matches fairly through sheer skill and brute strength. Watching him work is a thing of beauty. He is the heel that HHH once was and wishes could be again. But, like HHH, his face competition is way below par. The Undertaker doesn’t cut it as a face. He’s very much the anti-hero. He doesn’t want to fight for anyone but himself. But when he has to fight, he gets cheap wins. The only way to get a solid response from him is to attack his wife. Shouldn’t there be more? He only fights when he is attacked nowadays. He doesn’t seek out fights or belts… he just defends himself. He seems to have lost the passion that made him a force to be reckoned with.
I think the old man needs to go out with a great big bang. He deserves it. But sooner than later, he needs to go. Locker room clout is all fine and good when you are in your prime but the Undertaker reminds me of a middle-aged man with a pot belly and a receeding hairline who gets hair plugs and a convertible to make himself feel young again. Well, Taker, old buddy, old pal, old man… the operative word here being old, I think it’s time for a graceful exit. I’m sure Vince could arrange it. But if you’re not willing to let it happen as it should, expect the fans to tell you when to go… and as not nice as I am being right now… think about it… three thousand fans screaming out you suck, old man, go home, retire… and I’m being optimistic. All in all, better to go out in a blaze of glory… soon… really soon. Please.
Anyhow, that was another special edition of my Canadian Loonie… three in 20 hours… I amaze me…
That was my Canadian Loonie… nothing guarantees that I am right… but it is my loonie…
Later, Kat

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