On this week's RAW, WWE deviated somewhat from its tedious formula to present a show stunning in its multifarious idiocy.
It was a genuinely impressive achievement, in that WWE created several talking points, all were a joke, all were considered a joke under a joke umbrella, and very little was done to advance the second-biggest pay-per-view of the year beyond - in 2020! - a rematch between new United States Champion Apollo Crews and MVP.
There were barely even "People won't give anything a chance" takes online, either.
The consensus was that this show sucked shiggidy sh*t. The general consensus among fans is that WWE is experiencing its worst period ever. It is an ancient-feeling product in terms of personnel and structure. The match finishes are nonsensical, heavily ironic exercises in protecting talent. The rigid in-ring style guide prohibits the likes of Ricochet connecting with crowds and getting GIF'd to absolute f*ck with his jaw-dropping brilliance. There is no booking. At all.
If you were to trace backwards how Andrade and Angel Garza arrived as #1 contenders to the RAW Tag Team Titles, you would almost certainly suffer an aneurysm, but you'd be totally fine, because the sheer amount of camera cuts means you exist now in a state of constant head trauma turmoil.