Clawed Beauty 101 (any/all) vs. Jim Thornton: So Much for a No Spin Zone

 

Orange Cassidy (AEW) X Vic Joseph (WWE): It Should Be Called NXXXT

 

If you've ever wondered why Booker T won Worst Television Announcer in the Wrestling Observer awards in 2024 and 2025, it's because he constantly sounds like he's having an orgasm at the announce desk. Stephanie Vaquer would have gotten over regardless, because she's a star.

Booker T vs. Triple H

 

The "award-winning announcer" Booker T got buried in 2003 when Triple H not only made a bunch of racist jokes about him, but also beat him decisively at Wrestlemania and got no comeuppance for it. Now it appears the only burying going on is burying the hatchet between the two of them, so that they can join TKO in their quest for milking the fans' wallets for all they're worth with a mediocre product and high ticket prices.

Joey Styles vs. John Bradshaw Layfield

 

Your winner by KTFO: "Stocky Balboa" Joey Styles!

Michael Cole vs. Booker T

 

Jim Ross X NXT Fan

 

Beach Ball Z

“Ladies and gentiles! The summer season is here and you know what that means: beautiful sunshine, beautiful women, and beautiful ass-beatings! If you’re ready to watch Zoku and Jeeta beat the living hell out of each other, let me hear you scream!” The bombastic announcer got just what he wanted from the crowd at Takanori Beach: loud, energetic, beastly cheers from a pumped up audience.

While Zoku stood in one corner of the ring egging on the crowd with waves of his arms and a shit-eating grin, Jeeta stood in the opposite corner with his arms folded and a gorgon death stare locked on his opponent. I will end you once and for all, Karrottop. Jeeta refused to call Zoku by his government name. It was a matter of pride in the Sojo race, which both Zoku and Jeeta belonged to. That was all they had in common that day, spiky hair and monkey tails be damned.

Jeeta’s jaw tightened in annoyance not only with Zoku’s pandering to the crowd, but also the fact that the announcer in an obnoxious yellow suit refused to shut the hell up as he named off various sponsors for this fight. One of the products was for a pesticide spray that targeted cockroaches, which seemed appropriate considering Jeeta’s thoughts on the announcer. Another product was for Marlboro Cigarettes, though Jeeta considered the announcer’s voice to be more toxic than anything a tobacco company could produce. And the other one was…

“Shut the fuck up and get on with it!” shouted Jeeta, firing a laser beam from his fingertip at the microphone and shattering it into pieces. The audience gasped in horror while the announcer nearly wet himself as he wiggled his hand in pain.

Only then did Zoku get serious about this fight. He unleashed a mile long stare straight into Jeeta’s soul, though the latter responded with a sadistic smile rather than quaking in his boots. As soon as the announcer high-tailed it out of there, the two warriors met in the center of the stone ring and continued staring daggers into each other’s eyes. Zoku cracked his neck on both sides while Jeeta popped his knuckles and wrists even louder.

The audience remained stunned in silence after the microphone was destroyed, but instantly picked back up into high gear once the battle music played over the surround-sound speakers: a heavy metal tune called “X” by HELLYEAH.

That was the warriors’ cue to get in their fighting stances and surround themselves in glowing gold aura. Zoku’s spiked purple hair and green martial arts gi flapped and fluttered in the energy-induced wind while Jeeta’s green spiky hair did the same. Jeeta’s purple Sojo armor clung tightly to him as it was his last line of defense against this suddenly serious-looking fighter standing across from him. Now the audience would see who the real badass was.

When HELLYEAH’s lead singer Chad Gray burst into a fit of heavy metal screams, that served as a cue for Zoku and Jeeta to stop powering up and commence the ass-beatings. Before the first punch was thrown, an inflatable beach ball bounced off of Zoku’s face and he was back to his goofy smiling self.

Jeeta on the other hand expressed his rage with an ursine growl and a hard stomp of the beach ball, popping it like he wished he could have popped Zoku’s dome right at that instance. As the audience erupted into boos, Jeeta pointed at them and shouted, “If I see one more fucking beach ball in that crowd, someone’s getting my boot jammed in their fart box!” Instead of being intimidated, the crowd and Zoku laughed their asses off. The audience even chanted “Fart Box!” over and over again.

“Come on, Jeeta, these guys are having a good time. They paid good money for this. They can do whatever they want!” said Zoku, trying to suppress his laughter to make a point.

“If they want to play with their balls so badly, they can do it behind closed doors like every other pervert out there!” belted Jeeta, earning another round of laughter from the immature crowd. “What the hell are you sacks of protoplasm laughing at now?!”

“Dude, we literally go hunting for Dragon Nuts to make a wish. You don’t get to make testicle jokes.” Zoku couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. He even doubled over and slapped his knees for extra effect. As if Jeeta didn’t have enough reasons to tighten his jaw again, more beach balls were being bounced around within the crowd. “Guys, over here!” Sure enough, one of the audience members bounced a beach ball Zoku’s way and he lightly spiked it back at them.

Jeeta held his head in his hands and attempted to squeeze the headache out like a glob of toothpaste. This sacred fighting tournament had been reduced to childish antics and easy distractions. This was supposed to be the culmination of a heated rivalry between two badass warriors. Instead, they were just “having a good time”. One of the beach balls struck Jeeta in the back of the head and his muscles tightened once more.

“That’s it! I’ve had it with you pieces of shit!” The audience and Zoku watched in awe as Jeeta got into his fighting stance again and weaved golden energy around himself, this time his hair changing colors from green to gold and his spikes standing up straighter. He had gone full Super Sojo and could end this fight with a massive energy blast to his naïve opponent. All of this nonsense could be over in a heartbeat. But then another beach ball bounced off of Jeeta’s head.

Rather than choosing to end this fight, Jeeta flew around the arena and punched the shit out of every beach ball in sight, popping them louder than hand grenades. Children cried. The elderly were on the verge of suffering heart attacks. Mothers and fathers hugged each other and their children for fear Jeeta would commit genocide upon the entire human race. Beach balls exploded left and right until the entire arena was void of distractions. Jeeta had the fearful attention of everyone in sight, including Zoku, who quivered in his green karate trousers.

Slowly Jeeta stalked his opponent, his golden energy glowing brighter and brighter with every angry step taken. Jeeta also formed a monstrous grin as he pantomimed a choke hold with his gloved hands. This would have been sweet comeuppance for a decade-long rivalry. The only way this could have been a more satisfying conclusion was if Zoku shit his pants, which unlike some members of the crowd, he didn’t do…yet. And then…

“I’m sorry, Jeeta,” said the announcer through a new microphone. “The rules clearly state that once you’ve exited the ring, the match is over. This isn’t wrestling and you don’t get a ten count. Therefore, the winner of this match as a result of ring-out: Zoku!”

The crowd erupted into cheers while Zoku pranced and leapt in the air like his disqualification victory was the greatest one he racked up. Jeeta’s jaw went from tensing up to being on the floor. His eyes widened at his own stupidity. All it took for him to lose this match was being distracted by a few beach balls.

As Zoku was being presented with a bronze trophy by some bikini clad ladies, Jeeta once again held everyone’s fearful attention by shouting, “This is bullshit!” He breathed in a raspy voice while tense silence hung over the sandy arena. “This whole thing was a sham from the beginning!” Pointing an accusatory finger at Zoku, Jeeta said, “You put those beach balls there on purpose just so you can get an easy victory! How much did you pay those jackasses, anyways? A hundred? A thousand? A hundred thousand?”

Zoku chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. “More like five hundred thousand.” Jeeta’s jaw was on the floor once again. “Yeah, I kind of had to teach you a lesson there, buddy.”

“A lesson?! There’s not a scratch on me! You didn’t do anything! You just sat there and played with your ball…I mean…you just fooled around throughout the whole match!”

“Exactly! And you took the bait, Jeeta,” said Zoku more confidently with his arms folded. “Whenever we go hunting for Dragon Nuts together, you’re always getting distracted by our opponents taunting you. You don’t know how to control your temper, so it costs us every time. We could have wished for anything we wanted if we had those Dragon Nuts. But somebody else took them away because you were too busy choking on your pride. What would you have wished for anyways? Immortality? A higher power level? A cure for your wife’s cancer?”

The crowd gasped while Jeeta’s golden energy dissipated and his head hung low. Even his spiky hair stopped flapping and returned to its normal green color.

“That’s right, Jeeta, you should be ashamed! You let everyone down at your own expense! It’s sad I had to go through all of this just to teach you that. I would rather you learn this on your own, but you’re too thick-headed!”

The crowd chanted Zoku’s name while the lonely Jeeta let out a sigh, his pride and his ego deflated by words that have never been truer. He had to learn his lesson. He had to turn a new leaf. He couldn’t let it go any longer. But no…He powered up yet again and sent the crowd into a terrified hissyfit. “I’m going to kill you anyways, Karrottop!”

That didn’t happen. A beach ball bounced off of Jeeta’s head and he turned around to pop it. But the minute he bent over, Zoku rushed up and kicked him in the ass, sending him flying through the air. Zoku teleported and double axe handled Jeeta in the back, kneed him in the stomach, and punched the shit out of him until Jeeta’s body launched into the sand like a lawn dart, his legs sticking out and kicking frantically.

“Get me out of here!” shouted Jeeta with a mouthful of sand.

“Sorry, Jeeta…I can’t help you anymore. You couldn’t even help yourself. You fell for the same trick over and over again and didn’t learn anything. Now I’m fucking the porn stars and you’re getting the crabs!”

The audience laughed as crabs came up to Jeeta and pinched his legs, causing the prideful Sojo to scream and yelp more painfully than when Zoku was pounding him. The only reason the crabs left Jeeta alone was because the tide came pouring in, adding some gurgles and bubbles to his already muffled dialogue. Jeeta did manage to get one piece of coherent dialogue out before he was declared the ultimate loser: “I FUCKING HATE BEACH BALLS!”

Bipolar Rock n' Roller

MOVIE TITLE: Bipolar Rock n’ Roller

DIRECTOR: Haris Usanovic

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Sports Documentary

RATING: TV-MA for language

GRADE: Extra Credit

Canadian farm boy Mauro Ranallo wanted to be a sports announcer since he was just a little kid. With unlimited energy and an infectious attitude, he was a perfect fit from an early age. However, the stresses of fame along with the death of his best friend Michael caused him to have a breakdown when he was nineteen years old. He was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that hospitalized him eight times over his lifespan. He still tried to maintain an announcing career despite his ups and downs. In today’s world he is a much-appreciated part of WWE NXT’s commentary team. The Wrestling Observer Newsletter has awarded him Best Television Announcer from 2015 through 2017 and it’s easy to understand why: his passion is genuine and his energy is unstoppable.

You don’t have to be a sports junkie in order to appreciate Mauro Ranallo’s struggles. Bipolar disorder and mental illness in general is a life sentence for all it affects. Even with medication, exercise, therapy, and doing all the right things, you can still have high days and low days. Some days you feel like you can take on the world and other days you just want to stay in bed and never wake up again. Watching Mauro have a depressive episode where he cries is heartbreaking. You feel for this man. You want him to get better. You want him to live the life he’s always wanted to live. Every failure and every rock bottom moment will hit you hard. If it doesn’t, you need to have your pulse checked. My brother and I both suffer from mental illnesses and Mauro’s episodes are all too familiar, whether it’s the tiredness, the crying, or the suicidal thoughts. Nobody wants to see Mauro Ranallo commit suicide, but he came very close to doing so on several occasions.

But on the other side of his long and exhausting journey is a light at the end of the tunnel. By virtue of conquering his demons and doing what he loves most for a living, Mauro Ranallo is an inspiration to us all. If he can follow his passions, the rest of us can too. If he can open up about his struggles, we all should be taking notes. He reminds us over and over again that people with mental illness are not alone in this world. We’re not crazy. We’re not stereotypes. We’re living, breathing human beings and three-dimensional characters. If we have to do art therapy to get through our days, then so be it. If we have to take medication, it has to be done. If we have to find a place to live where marijuana is legal, by all means, go for it. If you can see tomorrow, you must be doing something right.

Mauro Ranallo was not a perfect human being growing up. His behavior made a lot of people angry from coworkers to family members to his ex-girlfriend. But hearing his story from beginning to end gives humanity to all the “crazy” behavior. I love three-dimensional people. I love it when the ordinary becomes the extraordinary. I love it when the underdog can conquer it all, which is really what sports like MMA and pro-wrestling are all about, really. For those reasons, Bipolar Rock n’ Roller gets an extra credit grade. We love you, Mauro. Don’t ever doubt yourself again.