What happened to the singles titles?

At WrestleMania 30, there is exactly one scheduled singles title match.
This is unacceptable.

Since the WWE and World Heavyweight Championships merged a few months ago, I expected the United States and Intercontinental Championships to finally get some love and attention. So far, no luck. You'd think that with one less title for Superstars to feud for, they'd need to make the ones they have as prominent as possible to compensate. So far, no luck.

Right now, Big E's only involvement at 'Mania is in a Royal Rumble-style match (which should be sweet, even if the stakes aren't very high), and the Shield appear to be feuding with Corporate Kane and the Old Age Outlaws, so I doubt Ambrose will defend his belt either.

Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time Ambrose fought for his U.S. title, which begs the question: why does he even have it? Shield are doing well enough for themselves that they don't need the U.S. title attached to one of their three guys. They don't need the push in that way. I could see Reigns defeating Ambrose for it once they split up, and I figured that would be at 'Mania, but... Well, that's not happening.

Big E shouldn't have it either--not because he's a bad performer and doesn't deserve a belt, but recently the Intercontinental title has hurt people more than it's helped them. People win it, and they get a quick burst of popularity, but a couple months later nobody cares. At all. And then the torch gets passed to some new guy, and the previous champion fades away.

The IC title used to have the opposite effect. Guys would earn it, prove they were championship material, then move on to the next belt: either the WWE or the WHC. But now there's only the WWEWHC, and there are increasingly longer title reigns. Yes, I remember the days when JBL and HHH had their respective titles for like a year, but that was when there were other belts that actually meant something. Now, there's just the WWEWHC, and nothing is being done with any of the others.

So, what the hell? Why does only one belt have any prestige today? And what needs to be done to fix this? My suggestion is that they should put the U.S. or IC on main event guys and boost them that way. Imagine if like...Cena, Bryan, and Lesnar held today's singles titles. Suddenly you've got three huge ongoing story lines and three coveted belts.

The U.S. and IC titles have this weird stigma now of being for "up-and-comers" or whatever, like they're so far beneath main event guys, but why does it need to be that way? Why not make all the belts super prestigious, with only a little extra attention given to the WWEWHC? There are only three belts, after all, and there are so many Superstars right now, it'd be a wonderful way to keep more of them engaged in stories audiences care about.

But I want to know what you think they should do with the men's singles titles, so continue the discussion in the comments section. I'll be sure to give my thoughts on your potential solutions.

Until next time, have a nice day, and don't be jabroni.

Coming Soon: The Total Divas' Division!

Time to take a look at some story lines as we head toward the final episode of Monday Night RAW before WM. Most are making great strides to build (and maintain) hype, though some are decelerating fast on the Road to WrestleMania. Unfortunately, one feud that has been stalling for some time has been Divas' Champion AJ Lee vs. Naomi.

Now, Naomi was injured, so it's no one's fault (except the person who viciously kneed her in the orbital bone), but now she's got a sparkly new eyepatch, and it's looking like she's going to end AJ's streak. So everything's going her way, I guess, but I couldn't care less. AJ has been in a holding pattern since the injury (and for a while before then, actually), and the feud has no fuel except for that stale old "I beat you, so I get a title shot" story line that never manages to be exciting.

AJ hasn't been doing anything with the belt, which isn't her fault either, but that's how these things work. She's had the thing longer than anybody ever, and it's time for a change. Not necessarily a change for the better, but a change nonetheless.

I imagine Tamina and AJ will feud without the belt in the picture, and then the "Total Divas" can battle for it. But again, I don't care. Total Divas is going to commandeer the Divas' division any second now, alienating everyone who doesn't watch that garbage,  as arguments from that show start spilling over onto RAW and SmackDown!, like, "Remember that thing you did during taping? Well, now I want revenge!" And crap like that.

You know it'd gonna happen. Just brace for it. I can hear Cole now, telling us to download the new Total Divas app and follow all the wacky drama on the WWE Network. Yay! Pretty soon the division will be divided between Total Divas and...Partial Divas? Yeah, let's go with that. Which might be okay. Maybe it'll be like the old days, with the Divas' Championship and the Women's Championship. The whole RAW vs. SmackDown! thing has been moot for a while, but it could work, and it wouldn't take much.

But I'm really just thinking of ways they can revitalize the Divas' Division. It seems hopeless at the moment with the "talent" they have available, but there are possibilities beyond this reality show BS. Maybe they'll make the Diva's Championship bout at WrestleMania a Table Match? That happens sometimes, right? Otherwise, I won't be invested. At all.


Next time on the Ramble: Why are there no feuds for the Intercontinental or U.S. Titles at 'Mania?!

Until then, have a nice day, and don't be a jabroni.

Will you PLEASE -- shut -- the hell -- up?!

There's something refreshing about watching wrestling without the constant, grating chatter of inane monkeys. I'm talking of course about Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and JBL, the trio of commentators who never, and I mean NEVER, stop bickering and bitching throughout RAW and Smackdown. Most of the time they don't add anything relevant, insightful or engaging, and they actually detract from my enjoyment of the show.

So when I went to a live show on March 7, I was relieved to finally be allowed to watch the Superstars perform without being distracted and annoyed by those three argumentative assclowns. Never once did I think, "You know what this impressive show of physical story telling is missing? A grown man telling his broadcast partner to call a WAAAHmbulance. Again!" I didn't miss them at all, and that got me thinking:

WWE needs to add the option of muting the announcers.

With the WWE Network, it's certainly possible now. Before, they'd have to broadcast two different feeds on multiple channels, or play an announcer-free version later or something, but with the WWE Network, they can do it all digitally. They can simultaneously stream separate shows.

I would pay money -- hell, I would pay EXTRA to be able to watch WWE without announcers. The sound of slamming the guy on the mat, the rowdy chants, the entrance themes -- I want to hear what I would hear live, and nothing more. It's just clutter, and it's gotta stop.

I can't concentrate on the matches. They argue about dance moves sometimes! Even when they call the match, they repeat themselves week after week and state the obvious. They have a stock response for every signature move, taunt, entrance, and expression on a guy's face. I'm sick of their catch phrases, I'm tired of their voices, and I'm fed up with their arguing.

Enough is enough.

It's gotten to the point where I'm actually groaning and commenting out loud on the stupid things they say. Imagine watching every single movie for the first time with the director's commentary on; it'd drive you mental. There's no way you could enjoy it fully. For THREE HOURS every Monday, it's a steady stream of verbal diarrhea with no respite save for the brief moment when I fast forward through the commercials.

"It's a flying goat!" -- "Vintage Orton!" -- "Shut up and call the match!" -- "Hash tag Yes Movement!" -- "Don't forget to the download the WWE App!" -- "The most chilling/thrilling/intimidating/entertaining match/entrance/Superstar/event of ALL TIME!"

I can't take it. Just thinking about them is irritating. I can't dwell on this anymore, so...

Until next time, have a nice day, and don't be a jabroni.

Sargent & Victor & Gillian & Theresa & Me

Because school has kept me too busy to keep up with wrestling (and because I have a blog assignment to write here), we’ll be postponing WWE talk again this week to discuss a new one-woman play entitled Sargent & Victor & Me.

Debbie Patterson, the one woman, plays multiple characters based on interviews with real people from Winnipeg, people familiar with the intersection of Sargent and Victor. For the most part, the act works. Patterson mimics the voices of each character, and some impressions are so vivid, from her gestures to her tone, she almost transforms. This is particularly true with the character of Theresa, an aboriginal teenage prostitute, who Patterson skillfully portrays to tell the girl’s tragic story.

However, some characters don’t quite work, as Patterson pulls off an “old fogey” voice no better than anyone you might pick at random off the street. Sometimes it was just too hard to suspend my disbelief, and her acting occasionally came across as silly.

Sillier still were the vaguely spiritual dances Patterson sluggishly performed to transition between scenes and accompany newscasts. The production team admitted to the audience after the show that they didn’t know what to do during these segments, and it was obvious. The apparent solution was to just let Patterson wiggle around for a bit.

It was also difficult at times to discern which character Patterson was playing, especially early on when the audience wasn’t familiar with anyone yet. There were lighting cues, some more distinct than others, to differentiate characters, but one couldn’t recognize these cues until later when they started repeating.

Every so often, Patterson would channel her inner Gollum from The Lord of the Rings, talking to herself to further confuse matters. There were enough rapidly changing characters to complicate things without them speaking to each other in one body.

Speaking of the body, Patterson and the character she embodies, Gillian, have multiple sclerosis. Gillian’s segments were the strongest bits of the play, combining bawdy humour with poignant monologues about living with the disease. Much of Gillian seemed like a caricature of the frustrations related to MS, a way for Patterson to exaggerate her own emotions, and it worked.

The small set, designed to resemble a food bank, allowed Patterson to move around, with objects like tables and chairs for support. The play probably wouldn’t have worked without a set structured to make her movements easier.

The sound, however, was an issue for me. While some of the piano music was wonderful, other music was little more than feedback, or the screeching of some unidentified stringed instrument that may have been a guitar or a violin. I’m guessing those sounds were meant to accentuate Gillian’s pain and anxiety or something, but they were just…irritating. So despite some pleasant piano, I felt the sound detracted from Patterson’s performance instead of complementing it.

I don’t watch plays often, but a few months ago I saw Social Studies at Prairie Theatre Exchange, a play about a dysfunctional white family that takes in a Sudanese refugee. Because that play had four performers, the pace was much faster, with characters playing off each other to deliver jokes and keep the energy in the room high. By comparison, Sargent & Victor & Me was methodical and deliberate, which hurt and helped it.

It hurt it because the performer was extremely limited. She was one woman with MS, and she needed to command the audience’s attention at all times. Unlike in Social Studies, there was nothing else to consider, no one else to look at, so when a particular moment was weak, it was obvious. In a band, one occasionally squeaky clarinet doesn’t stand out as much as it would during a solo performance. Every mistake is just that much more pronounced.

It helps, though, because every success is that much more impressive. The two greatest successes in the story, the characters of Theresa and Gillian, especially stood out, and their stories definitely affected me the most.

Knowing Theresa’s tale was real, and having a family member who lived through similar events, I felt her story was important to hear, even if was at times difficult to hear. If it was just a character in a play, I might not have cared so much, but it seemed to me like Patterson really tried to portray Theresa accurately and fairly, and it showed in the way she delivered her lines and became the character.

As affecting as Theresa’s story was, though, I was definitely moved the most by Gillian’s story. I don’t have MS, and I certainly hope I never do, but I do know what it’s like to feel useless and depressed. My hurdles are more mental than physical, but the things Gillian was saying were like some of the thoughts I’ve had before. So seeing Gillian’s journey and redemption, and knowing Patterson’s similar circumstances, I had an unexpectedly strong emotional reaction.

I came into the play never believing I’d be moved by one woman pretending to be her brother—but I came out hopeful and somewhat inspired. The themes of human resiliency and the desire for change resonated with me, and the play encouraged me to strive toward my own betterment. Put simply, Sargent & Victor & Me taught me to focus on what I can do, not what I can’t do.