The early bird gets the, uh, WrestleMania 25 tickets.  That's right, I just hit ticketmaster.com and secured seats for me and two of my buddies for the 25th anniversary of WrestleMania.  I'll be at Reliant Stadium in Houston with 70,000+ other superfans for the greatest sports entertainment spectacle of all time.

This marks my second WrestleMania, second in a row, as I was in Orlando for WrestleMania 24.  Like we did for 24, we're doing up the whole WrestleMania weekend:  The Hall of Fame, WrestleMania, and the RAW the next night.   That's doing WrestleMania weekend right.

See you in Houston on April 5, 2009!

Couple of real quick notes:

For some reason, Smackdown had two back-to-back matches with tag team dissention. 

Maria was distracted by Biscuits and Gravy bring a Mariachi band to ringside, allowing Maryse to get the drop on Michelle McCool and pin her with a roll-up.  Maria not wearing knee pads and showing off her legs (no complaints here) was already a tip off that she wasn't actually going to wrestle in the match, but McCool is remarkably easy to pin once she's momentarily distracted. 

Tazz going on and on about how McCool is a role model to little girls on color seems to indicate that heel turn is coming pretty soon.  I still won't like McCool as a heel, but the smiling babyface role she's been playing hasn't gotten her over.  I would be surprised if McCool is dropping the Divas Title to Maria regardless.  I feel like they'll have to pry that pink butterfly from her (and her secret significant other's cold, dead) hands.  I'm just sayin'.

The very next match saw Chavo finally catching on to the dead weight that is Bam Neely.  I don't recall a worse stable in the last decade than La Familia.  Even PMS and Meat had more entertainment value.  Chavo deserves better than having to carry a no-talent around with him. 

Meanwhile, I totally dug Primo hitting on Brie Bella backstage, and then getting confused when "Brie" didn't recognize him the second time.  I'm all for this.  Poor Carlito hasn't had a lady friend since Trish Stratus retired, and it's pretty damn hard to top her. It works out pretty good for both Colons that there's more than one Bella apple to take a bite out of.

Kizarny?  Seriously?  We're creating characters with carny names now?  Can I start calling Mark Henry "Mizark" again?

WWE continues to broadcast in glorious, crystal-clear 1080i high definition, but for the last three weeks, I'd never know it.  My local RCN doesn't carry USA HD or Sci Fi HD.  Up until three weeks ago, I enjoyed Smackdown in HD on The CW, but those fun days are over. 

Since the turnover to MyNetwork TV, I haven't been able to watch Smackdown.  I mean, I could, but the local MyNetwork feed in Boston comes from a podunk TV station somewhere in New Hampshire.  The picture quality looks like a low grade VHS cassette that has been recorded over for years and years. I suspect that station uses a rusty coathanger as a TV antenna because their MyNetwork signal is horrid, especially on an HDTV.   I tell you, Smackdown is unwatchable on my MyNetwork.

This means no WWE in HD for me unless I wanted to drive 17 miles to my buddy Lance's house.  Which I don't really want to do every single Monday night.  I've been watching RAW and ECW in standard definition USA and Sci Fi.  (Okay, I'm partly lying -- I haven't watched ECW in six weeks and counting.)  As for Smackdown, I'm SOL for watching it on TV.  I've been managing to catch it thanks to the wonderous wonder of the Interwebs.  Watching Smackdown in standard definition on my laptop is fine and all, but you know, it's sort of like kissing your sister.  There ain't nothin' like watching WWE in high defintion on my big HDTV, if only that were possible.

Finally, some good news from RCN:  Our HD channel lineup is expanding and USA HD and Sci Fi HD will finally be available for me.  When will this happen?

"Soon."  Soon, RCN says.  How soon?  Soon.  That's not soon enough.  But it'll have to do, I guess.

Soon it is.  I'll deal with this situation for however long I have to, but soon I can look forward to once again enjoying WWE in HD.  RAW and ECW in glorious 1080i.  As for Smackdown, it'll continue to be a weekly special on my laptop. 

I suppose you just can't have everything.  But right now, I'd settle for anything, as long as it's in HD.

Bret Hart's book tour rolled into Boston yesterday and I lined right up with a couple of hundred people to meet one of my wrestling heroes. 

My impressions of Bret in the brief minute I spoke to him while he signed my copy of "Hitman: My Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling" were that he was certainly older now.  Everything that has happened to Bret in the last ten years, losing Owen, his parents, Davey Boy, his marriage, his stroke, has taken its toll.   His long stringy hair is now greying brown, no longer the slick greasy black of his heyday.  There are more lines on his face than before, and that face is tinged with sadness and loss.  The T-shirt he wore of himself and Owen in happier days of the early 90's was a bittersweet reminder of that.

And yet, he's still Bret Hart.  Never quite Mr. Charisma even at his wrestling zenith, Bret seemed reserved and taciturn, yet still carrying a bit of that trademark arrogance that helped define "the Hitman".  A little intimidating at first glace, it turned out Bret was gracious, good humored, and occasionally showed that little smirk of his.

I was thrilled to meet him.  While in line with my friend Lance Jr., I cracked numerous jokes to temper the building excitement, but I was honestly nervous to meet Bret.  When I was about 17, around the time Bret was WWF Champion for the first time, he was my hero.  Bret still holds my highest regards for his career and accomplishments. 

I hoped I'd be funny and cool, maybe say something clever to Bret when I finally got to the table and shook his hand but no, I just about totally marked out.  Just blathered about what a big fan I was and how I thought his book is fantastic.  It was maybe a minute of interaction but it felt like it was a microsecond.

I'm clearly happy to meet him.

About Bret's book:  This is the real deal.  Only 184 pages in, I can already honestly say "Hitman" is as good as Mick Foley's "Have A Nice Day"; perhaps in some ways even better.  This is lofty praise.  Bret's book and Foley's first book are the highest level of pro-wrestler autobiographies.  Chris Jericho's "A Lion's Tale" and I think to a lesser extent Edge's "Adam Copeland on Edge" are in the second tier but far below what Foley and Bret have written. 

A fan of pro-wrestling, especially someone who craves an insightful, blunt, and intelligent account of the Calgary Stampede Wrestling era of the 1970's, and the World Wrestling Federation of the 1980's and 1990's, along with stories about working in Japan and the territories in the early 80's, would gladly devour Bret's book.  Bret pulls no punches, is brutally honest, touching, sad, and impressive.  I'm glad to say Bret's autobiography is the equivalent of his wrestling talent.  It's the excellence of execution.

Quick RAW thoughts:

I loved the double digit chairshots Shawn Michaels hit on Lance Cade. That was the coolest thing of that sort since the Two Man Power Trip did the same to the Hardys and Lita back in 2001. I sure dig this new "Shawn Michaels snapping towards unholy violence" shade of his character.

I'm also real high right now on Matt Hardy, Rey, Kane and Mark Henry. Their No Mercy and RAW encounters have blown me away.  Never cared much for Mark Henry but Matt has had some humdingers with him lately. Rey and Kane have some mighty compelling big man vs. little man chemistry going on.  It's a shame though that the Rey and Evan Bourne team everyone was salivating about a couple of weeks ago is on the back burner since Kofi and Punk have the front line on Priceless and the tag team belts.

I have an 8 year old nephew and a 5 year old niece and their arguments are less shrill, obnoxious and pointless than Miz and Morrison's 3rd grader-quality verbal sparring with Cryme Tyme. I thought it was poison for the ears.  I couldn't even enjoy the hilarity of Morrison's bedazzled abs because of the noise. Poor Mick Foley might be pretty pissed if it turned out Vince wasn't yelling at any of those guys on their headsets.

Chris Jericho is the new Toothless Aggression.