A common thing I caught myself saying in this episode, over and over, so as needing to restart my sentence so that it did not contain a cliche, was “trying to pull the wool over our eyes.” This was the first thing that came to mind when writing this synopsis, and though it is a really well worn cliche, it is entirely reasonable to say that WCW really tried black-bagging its audience and driving it around downtown in the trunk of its car to make some things stick. In the end, they didn’t, because it depended on a different toolset of logic and reasoning, one that apparently only WCW was working with, that unfortunately was incompatible with its audience. Namely, that as long as we saw men in tights vigorously oscillating at each other, we’d forget any of the other massive leaps we needed to negotiate to arrive at a given point in a given angle. I don’t need to tell you, that dog won’t hunt, padre. Tonight, on what will surely go down as the Greatest Podcast in the History of Our Sport, a battle of men, of genuine character, of moral fibre, and of the letter T.