Tuesday Morning RAW in London proves YOU STILL GOT IT!

A funny thing happened to me on last night's edition of Monday Night RAW.

After about the fourth or fifth showing of a tired video replay I had already seen, or some witless commercial about a product I'll never buy (can't remember which straw broke this camel's back), I did something I haven't done on Monday night in a long-ass time.

I looked at the clock and said, "Fuck this, I'm going to bed."

That was the night the lights went out in East Brunswick. I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn to go to the gym and while I sucked down a bowl of oatmeal and cottage cheese (don't judge me), I kicked on the DVR and picked up right where I left off.

Welcome to .... Tuesday Morning RAW!

This was right around the spot where Big E. Langston joined the Zack Ryder train and as soon as it was over, I was standing on the fast-forward button until the start of the next relevant segment. What I found was, not only did I enjoy the program more, not having to wade through the pre-existing sludge, I actually found the pacing had elevated the product.

I was constantly engaged and never afforded the opportunity to lose interest.

That made for a much more rewarding experience. Sure, I understand that seeing it "live" adds a little something extra (even though London was taped), but it really goes to show just how unnecessary the expansion to three hours was.

And it's not like they used the extra time to get lesser-known talent on television.

The only drawback to watching it on DVR is when you're in the middle of a killer contest, like when Team Hell No and The Undertaker went to war against The Shield in one of the best RAW matches of the year.

It was so awesome, that I was using the fastest speed on the remote to get through the commercials, but would then go too far, scream "FUCK!" -- then rewind and go back too far, then fast-forward at a snail's pace to make sure I didn't miss a single second.

It would have probably taken me less time to just sit through the damn commercials.

Anyway, seeing The Undertaker -- looking pretty spry I might add -- bouncing around the ring like it was the late nineties, really made this match special. And let's give credit to The Shield, too, because those fuckers can work.

That's the beauty of professional wrestling. I don't need three hours of epic wrasslin' to be entertained. All I need is a bunch of good matches sandwiched around one great one. Last night This morning, The Undertaker, as well as WWE, proved they still got it.

I know that WWE is never going to change its programming. But maybe I can change the way I watch it. And get more sleep in the process! I guess what I'm trying to say, is that if I can change, and you can change, everybody can change!

And wouldn't it be great if we all had one less thing to complain about?