*blocks your path*
based
*cowers in fear*
Imagine the smell.
We agree that SvR 2007 has the GOAT soundtrack, right?
The GOAT wrestling game
GOAT INTRO
GOAT OST
GOAT EVERYTHING
so yes.
>>2586674
Hell yeah
> The Master of Ring Psychology
What do they mean by this?
Smark jargon
Means he is the GOAT.
Ex-junkie born again Christian. Could he be a bigger cliche?
Wrestlers that really make you go DANG
Dang son where'd you find that?
dang ambrose
Was HBK better as a heel or a face?
People say heel, but his face run was better.
Heel his face champ run was anti draw express.
>>2586575
What memorable moments did it have during his heyday? Anything past losing his smile was softball shit and pretty corny. With maybe the exception of his retirement match.
Has things gotten better for him since leaving WWE?
Nah, still a geek
>>2586545
A geek currently holding three titles at once.
For God's sake someone PLEASE tell me he's not still fucking with Melina
I would hate to think anyone is THAT cucked
Who did it better?
Starr is more a based faggot than a Flair ripoff
>waw
>face is doing his whole entrance shtick
>intermittent shots of children in the audience marking out
Why is he doing this? Every crowd shot on last night's Smackdown was of children, and not the manchild variety either.
>surprised a program made for children has them getting attention
Hit the weights.
>>2586471
>it's a kids show
>"OMFG Why are they showing shots of kids enjoying the show???????"
hate to be the one to tell you this but WWE is aimed at kids not adults
Kevin Nash came to me in a dream once. I was going through a rough patch in my life, I was 5'6, I had no charisma, and I thought a shoot was just film terminology. I don't remember my dreams too often, but I'll never forget this one, as it was a life changing experience. I was standing in the middle of a wrestling ring, with nobody in the stands as usual. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a semi-truck horn blast across the arena, and a figure began to emerge from behind the curtain. Nash rode in on a unicorn named Work, his not dyed majestic black hair flowing gracefully behind him, flowing like the money he drew as the highest drawing champion in wrestling history. Three cruiserweights were impaled on Work's massive horn, victims of a Jackknife Powerbomb almost as powerful as the one Nash dropped on Hiroshima. Their bodies occasionally twitched in a fruitless attempt to kick out, as a referee followed closely behind to continuously count the pin. Nash and Work stopped at the top of the ramp, and Nash posed like a Greek god, as pyro and fireworks shot off behind him in an awe-inspiring display. Two hours later when the last firework had shot off, Nash looked down at me and smirked.
"Fuckin' well look what we fuckin' have fuckin' here."
Nash hopped off of Work, but seemed to grimace in pain as he landed. He quickly muttered :x = negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4ac over 2a". I saw a light spackle shine over his thighs as he smiled and stood up straight. He turned to me, as I trembled in a mixture of both fear and awe. He began to speak again.
"It's your fuckin' lucky fuckin' day, son. I have decided to fuckin' take fuckin' mercy on you and fuckin' work you in a fuckin' shoot. Instead, I will fuckin' teach you the fuckin' ways of the Church of Big Sexy. This ain't a fuckin' shoot, I'm dead fuckin' serious. Look at the adjective, "the".
I tried to respond, but my charisma was so lacking that all I managed to garble out was a string of incomprehensible references to kickpads and workrate. Nash shook his head and muttered "We got a lot of fuckin' work to do."
I spent the next several days in the dream world learning the art of Big Daddy Cool. My intensive training covered the realms of economics, hair care, technical wrestling, working the marks, technically wrestling, parenting, proper hand-to-pocket technique, taser use, and grammar. I felt myself grow taller, I felt my hair grow longer, I felt my muscles reach full mass, but above all, I felt myself attain Nashmotality. I had transcended mortal marks. I was God.
When the time came for my final lesson, Nash dismissed Work back to Valhalla to wait for him, as part of the final lesson required a match between the two of us, a match that Work would undoubtedly have booked himself to interfere in if he stuck around. Nash and I entered the ring and stood nose-to-nose. In that moment, I suddenly realized that we were not alone. The previously empty arena was now absolutely packed. In fact, there were over 500,000 screaming marks holding up charts proving our draw power as signs, a further testament to the box office juggernauts Nash and I had become. The crowd roared with trepidation as they eagerly awaited our five star classic. Nash looked at me seriously and said, "This is the last fuckin' thing you need to know. The most important fuckin' lesson: Money. And miles." I nodded my head in understanding, and made my move. I poked Nash in the chest.
I awoke suddenly in a cold sweat and sat up in bed with a start. Before I could despair at my ascension to Godhood and elimination of my vanilla midget status being nothing but a dream, I realized that my legs where hanging off the bed. I felt the back of my head, and my luscious black locks that were not dyed at all were still intact. I threw my sheet off me, and saw that my muscles were still gigantic. It worked! My evolution had carried over from the dream world into reality!
Eager to test out my new powers, I quickly ran to the living room to find my insubordinate, neckbeard son abusing my girlfriend. I cackled with glee, and began to work a five star match. I punched my son into a corner, made him eat an elbow, tossed my hair back several times, and sidewalk slammed him through the kitchen table. A referee crashed in through the window and counted pin before I could even put a foot on his chest. It was over. I had buried my first vanilla midget.
But just before I could put my hand in my pocket in celebration and begin collecting on all the money I drew, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out, assuming it was just the President touching base on my upcoming ceremony for the Congressional Medal of Honor, but was confused when I saw this wasn't the case. The text wasn't from the President. The text was from myself. I hastily opened the message, assuming it was some sort of error. My eyes scanned the screen...and my confusion turned to terror. I felt a sudden pang of pain in both of my quads, and I collapsed to the floor. Muscles began to shrink, my hair came out in tufts, my legs shortened back to their vanilla midget status as I felt my charisma become sapped from me like a life force...the text had simply read:
"You got worked."
autism is a cruel and mysterious affliction
How would you book his return
>>2586394
Against Mahal for the title
By having him win Money in the Bank, culminating with him winning the title at SummerSlam.
>>2586405
Follow up this with a 6 year, actively defended and clean win filled title reign.
So whats the main event going to be since theres no Universal title on the line?
It's going to be the fucking women's match, isn't it?
Big Dog vs Strowman
>>2586283
Is there even a women match on the card?
>>2586288
Bayley vs Bliss
>His theme and entrance are more over than he is
>Nothing about her is over
>>2586249
>crowd is singing his theme
>dead silent or what'ting during promo
Nah, that's Roode. I can't imagine where he'd be without it.
Nakamura has been able to coast off one match for two years, but people will get sick of his phoning it in shit fast.
>"We were going to bed! We were going to bed and he like busted out the ring and we were like, 'Oh man I guess we should do this now.' So we ended up going on Yelp and we found a 24-hour pastor to come to our backyard. It was so handy and his name was Pastor Pete and he lived around the corner from us, so he was there. They were very concerned by the way because it was 1 o'clock in the morning, so technically it was Sunday and they were very concerned about us calling, they were like, 'Is everything OK? Have you guys been drinking? What's happening?' We're like, 'It's fine, you can come down.' So we had to get a witness and we called and woke up a friend of ours and got it done."
Is it autism?
>>2586149
Nope, just another case of a woman demanding something that she wants done immediately.
>>2586149
Disgusting. Truly a match made in a shithole.
That thing won't last a year
Why are the intros so shit now? This was the last good intro they had that actually got you pumped up to watch Raw
>>2586147
don't be a faggot
just the raw is war intro was good no more
>>2586147
I've been meaning to ask this for a little while now: didn't the original intro to the Across the Nation RAW intro play the chorus of the song?
I'm having this weird mandela effect. The only intros I can find just have the >LETS GET IT ON, LETS GET ON repeat.
>Things were only good from when I was younger! This isn't nostalgia!
>Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome The Artist Known as Shinsuke Nakamura!
>>2586108
That was cringe.
Fuck WWE for ruining based Shinsuke.
>>2586108
begging ya to do something about those flabby arms
why the fuck...did they change King of Strong Style to the Artist...and why did they change his font from the Red font to the Yellow Chinese takeout font when his signature color is red. It's like they just do stupid changes for no reason other than to just do them.