Monday, May 16, 2022
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People! We Must Save WWE Films Before It’s Too Late!

Triple H The ChaperoneAt the most recent WWE conference call, Vince McMahon sadly informed investors that, if the latest internal changes to WWE Films don’t yield more positive results, there’s reason to believe that WWE Films as a brand will be discontinued.

I think I speak for all wrestling fans, especially the most ardent ones, when I say: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

How can we go on without WWE Films? The geniuses that gave us Kane the Hook Murderer, John Cena Saves the World Part 1-4, Ted Dibiase Boringly Saves the World, and Steve Austin Murders the Handicapped (seriously, go watch Condemned) may be as extinct as the concept of “three or more steady tag teams,” and damn it, we cannot let this happen?

Well, I’ve gone and done my part. I’ve wracked my brain to come up with some movie pitches that should help spur the creative juices at WWE Films. Listed below are my ideas for films that will not only pique Vince McMahon’s interest, but should be big hits with the consumer public, provided that WWE doesn’t alter them in any way. It took me a long time and lots of Red Bull to come up with these Spirit Award nominees, but by Brody’s corpse, I thought of them.

So please, read these over, and forward this column to your friends. With enough interest, we can tell WWE Films, “Don’t leap off the ledge just yet! Justin has provided hope!”

And what hope it is. Enjoy!

Based on anecdotes from WWE staffers, as well as anonymous corporate bootlicks, Vince and Linda McMahon retire to a cottage under the breathtaking Connecticut fall foliage. Vince, however, is fearful of his impending death, and his paranoia, buttressed by his apparent early onset of Alzheimer’s (we’re just guessing), won’t allow him to enjoy the wonders of nature. His plans to go hiking with Linda, as well as picking berries with his two-time Senatorial loser of a bride, change daily, based on his irrational thoughts that the end is just around the corner, leading to awkward marital strife. Such highlights include Vince going berry-picking alone, and having a steroid-induced episode of psychosis, causing him to bump into several trees in his manic worry (Vince then suggests that Triple H hire one of the trees, because it’s 73 feet tall, looks strong, and isn’t as fragile as Batista). It’s a coin flip between Hornswoggle and Justin Beiber for the role of Vince’s grandson, as the part will go to whichever one signs a waiver and refuses a stunt double before the boat crash scene.

Daft Tableman is the director of the most watched nighttime news broadcast in the New York area. With the knowledge that there is no competition for his ratings juggernaut, Tableman opens a developmental territory for newscasters, hiring only female lingerie models and male HGH addicts. The competent newscasters are then made to teach their masterful skills to these generic centerfold types before being forced into retirement. Ratings wane, as its clear that the pretty faces don’t pack the charisma or abilities necessary to sustain audience interest, so Tableman does the right thing: claims the media and the government are out to get him. Comic relief comes in the form of new sports reporter Chip Skillroy, who, at 6’5”, 325 lbs, becomes the first newscaster in history to be arrested for stashing rhesus monkey hormones up his ass.

Speaking of sphincter humor, here’s a light-hearted buddy comedy starring Mason Ryan and Tyler Reks as two men who smuggle HGH and other assorted muscle-enhancing substances in their colons through the Gobi Desert, after a personal appearance that the two were booked for turned out to be a sting, set up by INTERPOL, those commie bastards. It’s Planes, Trains, and Automobiles meets Midnight Express, and it offers a timeless message: drug enforcement officials infringe upon the freedom of people who enjoy destroying their bodies just enough to get a weekly match on WWE Superstars.

John Cena is integrated into an all-white high school, where he…..actually, we shouldn’t even touch this one with a fifteen-foot-long kendo stick.

2045. It is a dystopian future, but not for virtuous Vance McNoon and his successful Global Wrestling Entertainment. They are the most watched sports-based product of the new age. The once mighty Ultimate Combat Championship, and its promoter, the scummy Dana Black, are in shambles, because the public has clearly chosen sports-entertainment over that macho, homoerotic Octagon clusterschmazz. The movie reaches a fever pitch when Black’s wife runs off with McNoon, and Black, as an act of revenge…..does nothing, because he is a loser, and he looks like a squinty penis. Kurt Russell cameos as his world-famous Snake Plissken, and he endorses GWE, because that’s what winners do. Oh, and Dana Black dies in the end. But you knew that.

Randy Orton plays a pantless, googly-eyed creep named Slade Fecally. Living next door to the comely Amber Panjob (played by whoever the Hell played Six on Blossom), Fecally becomes fixated on her and her boyfriend, Atticus King (played by Christian). Every single week for four straight months, Fecally breaks into their home and beats King to a bloody pulp, while Panjob pleads for his life. The local law enforcement officials refuse to arrest Fecally, and are in disbelief that anyone would prefer King over him. In fact, the police attempt to persuade Amber to date Fecally instead, believing that he has much more upside. Amber, however, in love with King for his work ethic and pleasant demeanor, refuses. The police then dispatch Rex Doucheman (played by Batista) to harass her at work until she quits. The whole fracas culminates with a wild brawl that Fecally wins, even if sixty percent of the witnesses are apathetic.

The life of “The Showstopper” is told with painstaking attention to detail and accuracy. Stories of Michaels’ life of miracles, such as carrying Kevin Nash to a watchable match, and convincing a troubled youth to buy his action figure instead of The Hurricane’s, highlight this heartwarming romp. Also, cautionary tales will be told of what happens when you question Michaels’ faith, and/or attempt to discredit parts of his exemplary life as being “anything less than exemplary.” Watch how Michaels takes the form of a pothole, shapeshifting his way into the path of Shane Helms’ motorcycle, causing the nefarious troublemaker to nearly die. That’ll learn the mask-wearing freak for criticizing Michaels’ passion for bow-hunting. Tim Tebow will play “clean-living Rocker Michaels,” while Kirk Cameron is slated to take the role of “older, but still all the wise, Michaels.”

The 73-foot tall tree from the Golden Pond rehash, the one McMahon ordered Triple H to hire at syringe-point, is given the lead role in the Marine series. The tree gets the girl, fights off the terrorists, and donates one of his limbs to Zach Gowen, whose leg is sabotaged by foreign dissidents.

Pretty much what the title suggests. An aging Okie lays prone on the floor, legs askew, while an abrasive, yet corporate-supported, younger announcer lays into his crotch for one hundred and twenty minutes with shoes of various sizes and types. Those wooden Dutch shoes? We have ‘em, partner. In an effort to break up the potential monotony, commercials for those pretentious USA shows that wrestling fans don’t watch will be interspersed among the nad-bashing. So, in other words, it’s pretty much any Monday Night Raw with Jim Ross appearing on it that’s aired in the last two years, except with 100% less screeching from Vickie Guerrero.

Michael Moore, left-wing filmmaker/majority stockholder in Land O Lakes, personally films and edits this telling documentary, demanding to know where all footage of Rey Mysterio from 1999 to 2001 is. Mysterio, who is alleged to have not worn his trademark masks in that time frame, refuses to speak to Moore’s intrusive cameras, but many fans offer insight into WWE’s purported attempt to cover up the truth. These “truthers” show off various ‘cease and desist’ letters sent to them by hardnosed WWE attorney Jerry McDevitt, but Moore will not stop in his attempt to have footage shown. WWE has countered that any fan that attempts to view WCW Fall Brawl 1999 will be dead within one week, a la The Ring. Much like the idea that donuts taste better with three pounds of butter slathered on them, Moore does not deny this.

Triple H stars as Paul DuBeck, a man who is so bad ass, that even the toughest hombres in the world are afraid of him. In one scene, Paul goes back in time and watches as Genghis Khan slaughters a horde of villagers. Then Paul walks up to him, bares his sledgehammer, and Khan runs away. Nevermind that Paul is just a flabby ex-jock in a Motorhead t-shirt who looks like Kathleen Turner with Clay Matthews’ forehead: Paul is incredible, and everyone fears him! The above exercise is repeated approximately 35 times throughout the movie, as the baddest of the bad count their lucky stars that they don’t have to incur Paul’s wrath. Stephanie McMahon was unable to play Paul’s wife, due to work commitments, so her role is being filled by Ricki Lake with an extra chin.

[adinserter block=”1″]THE RUNDOWN II
This sequel to the amiable 2003 action-comedy features Seann William Scott reprising his role as Travis, the free-spirited treasure hunter, who is once again wandering through Brazil in search of golden valuables. This time, however, the bounty hunter who is tasked with retrieving Travis is not played by The Rock, but rather John Cena. Heartache and discontent fill the sweltering scenery, as Cena (looking rather inconspicuous in his trucker cap, fire engine-red t-shirt, and jorts that practically invite Amazon wildlife to take a chomp at one’s dangling testicles) explains that Rock is away, filming another movie, but he sent a streaming video explaining how much he loves the villagers, and will never leave them. Cena vows to help Travis bring down the evil Hatcher (now played by Jay Mohr, doing his nifty Christopher Walken impression, for 1/16th the salary). In between fighting Hatcher’s army, as well as romancing the leading lady (Rosario Dawson, who is still ruing the sequel clause she unknowingly signed a decade ago), Cena stops to make many soliloquies about how The Rock doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and that he, Cena, will show up in the jungle every week to perform for the weary laborers. Kids will have fun counting the number of insurgents that Cena brutally slaughters with his most deadly STF.

These are just my ideas. I’m here to help.

Justin Henry is a freelance writer whose work appears on many websites. He provides wrestling, NFL, and other sports/pop culture columns for, as well as several wrestling columns a week for and Justin can be found here on Facebook – and Twitter-

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