Worst: I Love You, Grand-Pop
You’d better watch your ass, Bryan Cranston, because Triple H is acting and he’s going to mount your Emmy awards on his mantle alongside the European title and Katie Vick’s brain virginity. Very, very long story short, Triple H says that for his entire career he’s believed the advice (given to him by a guy named “Killer”) that in This Business you can either make friends or you can make money, then gets emotional about how his heart has been broken by his friend. I’ve sat here for forty minutes trying to think of something to say about it. What do you say? The crowd was enraptured by Triple H no matter what he said, because they weren’t listening to him, they were just waiting for him to stop talking so they could cheer. They do that. They wait until the guy they’ve decided to like stops talking to cheer and for the guy they’ve decided not to like to stop talking so they can yell “what” or “you suck”. That’s it. That’s what this was. It could’ve been Charlie Brown’s teacher talking, and if she was in a pair of jeans and a skull t-shirt with approximated Latin across the front they would’ve cheered the sh*t out of her.
I know some of you are into leaving comments or sending me halfhearted tweets about how you’re “digging Triple H” or whatever, but if one person reading this who actually sat through this segment and isn’t five years old came out the other side of it thinking Triple H, Kevin Nash, John Laurinaitis or WWE itself looked better for it, you’re completely full of the most rancid kind of stupid sh*t and you should stop watching television. Not just wrestling, television. Go to the library and sit still until you asphyxiate. I’ve optimistically reported enough pro wrestling to you by now that you should be open to accepting some negative truths, and this is a big one — Triple H is not helping this show be better.
H pretending he’s in the middle of The Godfather Part II when he’s actually in the middle of Inside Out Part II is sad. Remember when he tried to use that line from Gran Torino, except he couldn’t say f**k so it sounded corny? Now he’s trying to get Kevin Nash over as Fredo, except Fredo had a movie and a half of impeccably written, amazingly directly, perfectly acted Best Picture-quality film with a consistency of character necessary to create drama, not 50 years of mailing it in and some trash bag pants. Although this does start to explain Nash’s weird mustache.
I like to think Triple H was watching Vengeance on the monitors backstage last night, saw Mark Henry getting up despite being hurt to yell I’M THE CHAMPION I DON’T NEED HELP and though “oh man, I’m gonna do that exact same thing tomorrow night“. The cherry on H’s acting performance, the clip they’ll show when he’s affably nodding his head while Jon Hamm claps for him at the awards ceremony, is when he’s backstage refusing help, takes a few steps, then FAINTS like he’s in the goddamn Pickwick Papers. This is when the show goes from being melodrama to an exercise in the absurd, and when I start feeling like Bruce Springsteen trying to explain “The Rising”.
Best: Kevin Nash’s Guttural Queefing
Kevin Nash didn’t want the ambulance to take Triple H to a Local Medical Facility™ because he wasn’t done hitting him with a sledgehammer. He scares the trainers, EMTs, referees down but they don’t have H all the way in yet, and he just kinda slides into the floor. What does Kevin Nash do? He puts down his sledgehammer and works extremely hard to deadlift Triple H up, drag him across the room and prop him up against some cardboard boxes so he can hit him in the face with a sledgehammer. Here’s my biggest question: why go through all that trouble to prop him up? If you want to hit him in the face with a hammer, he’s tied up on the ground and you’re right there, just grab the thing by the handle and whip it down like you’re trying to win a Pikachu at the Texas State Fair. You can crush his head, nobody’s around.
I guess when you have to give him the “back of your hand to the face” sledgehammer shot it’d be hard to do that downward, but still. You could’ve saved us having to listen to you go ENGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH, HEEEEENGGGGHHHHHHH, ENGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH for a minute and a half.
Best: Somebody Grab A Mirror!
The only thing better than Triple H’s Margaret Dumont faint was the EMT’s amazing line “Does he have a pulse??” No, he’s dead. Kevin Nash hit him with the back of his hand while he was holding a hammer and he DIED. You’re rolling a man’s corpse onto the gurney. The ambulance should’ve randomly exploded as they were driving it out.