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/wrestling /guests /Laura |
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/wrestling /guests /Laura |
| Guest Columns | NPR's Laura |
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Pop Culture Indicators & Rankings for the week of Sept. 6, 1999 Okay, so my favorite friend is out of town for a week, and besides that I think I ticked him off irretrievably, so I have to find something new to keep myself occupied. I agree to go to dinner with a fine young man who seems to be...well, to be perfectly honest, a bit too earnest and on the up-and-up for me, but what the heck. Time to get serious, time to quit running around with the people who appeal to me -- generally underemployed, spend too much time obsessing on music trivia, have anti-establishment attitudes, hate shopping except for records -- time to get it together and consume food in a restaurant, paid for by a man with a pension plan and a sensible Toyota Camry, someone who wants to talk about the weather and mutual funds and the Very Serious Situation in East Timor. And of course I even wear stockings and a skirt and put on makeup and all that jazz, and equally of course after about ten minutes in the car with this guy I can't remember why I wanted to come along in the first place, so I suddenly decide I'm going to just punt the spit-&-polish girl-of-suburbia act and just be myself, which is to say: socially unacceptable. So we get in the restaurant, and we're seated, and there's dead silence because we have nothing in common and nothing to talk about -- I've let his three opening salvos drop dead of loneliness and exhaustion -- and the waiter comes over and asks if we want to see a wine list. I look at Andrew, he raises an eyebrow (sort of ) and inhales as if to speak...and I sort of burst out with "No, I believe we'll proceed directly to the intravenous injection of hard drugs." Wide eyes all around. I check my watch, while the two men sort of look at each other, and I say, "Oh, gosh...it's 7:30. I gotta get home, I forgot...I have to watch and see how much Nitro is going to suck tonight. Sorry about that. Sorry to waste your time. 'Bye." The preceding is a true story. I *liked* "Trainspotting," what can I say? Cultural landmark. Source of clever things to say in social interactions that aren't going so well. Which brings me to the topic at hand. As an ex-anthropologist, I have to say that the thing that hooks me on wrestling is the entertainment value... and the extent to which this form of entertainment tells us about the culture we're living in. Another plus: watching to see what kind of market penetration is going on. I keep a mental running tally of wrestling phrases I hear on the bus, in line at the grocery, t-shirts and so forth. What the hell, it's a hobby. Passes time. Something to do. So here's my rundown for the week, with regards to RAW, at any rate...I just couldn't get interested in Nitro, so I read a book instead. Which should tell Ted Turner something. POP CULTURE EPIPHENOMENAL WEEKLY RUNDOWN & RATINGS 1. Pyrotechnics. Last week: 4. This week: 6. I think they're better on SmackDown! But they're snazzy, they got the crowd excited, and I think that if Jerry Springer included such an opening, we'd all be in a lot of trouble, because no one would bother to watch anything else. 2. The Triple H Entrance Music. Last week: 2. This week: 2. I hate this music, I hate hearing it so much, but it has given me the idea that perhaps I'll commission my own odious theme song, which could be played whenever I enter my office. It will give my co-workers fair warning -- time to assemble a cache of cookie sheets, folding chairs, sledgehammers -- that I'm on my way in, and none too pleased about any of it. Now, if only I can rig up some floor lighting in shades of green to cast my stern, determined features into frightening relief as I enter the cafeteria. 3. The New Lack of Transition Between the Show and the Commercials. This is a new entry -- getting a this-week rating of 8. This is terrific, every show should do this. No time to be clear that you're NOT watching the wrestling show, and that you ARE watching a commercial. Increase the cultural dysplasia! Completely erase the line between product and advertisement! When that first Chips Ahoy ad came on, I thought they were giving Foley double-duty and bringing back Dude Love! One minute, Ken Shamrock is running up the ramp and into the garage -- the next, Tom Berenger is there in the garage hassling you about changing your oil. This is swell, heartily to be commended, something that I'm not surprised by in the least. 4. Lilian Garcia. Last week: 4. This week: 6. Remember, these rankings have nothing to do with how good something is -- they have to do with being cultural landmarks. I predict in another week, she'll be up to a 9 -- as a legendarily stupid WWF move. In addition to introducing Steve Black Man, did you notice that Gary Briscoe was apparently wrestling? Also, I was impressed with her unenthusiastic, monotonal delivery of the intro for the Most Electrifying Man in Sports Entertainment .. an intro that, while involving a name with only two syllables, managed to emphasize neither. Oh, yeah, and hailing from Miami, Florida -- um, the rock. Would that be igneous, or metamorphic, Lilian? 5. The Braid Brigade. Last week: they didn't really exist as-such, but I'll give 'em a 5. This week: 8. Wow, Undertaker's snazzy new bandanna-do covers up a braid, just like Paul Wight's. Cool. I'm imagining that they call each other up for coiffure tips, read Seventeen to consult What The Experts Say about which colors really tell the world that you're the Lord of Darkness, have sleep-overs and listen to Bay City Rollers singles, talk about which Backstreet Boy is, like, the dreamiest. Don't let The Big Show near the Caruso Molecular Hair Curlers. I'm pleased to hear more from the Undertaker lately...and the corresponding leap in the PCEWR&R index can be attributed to the fact that he's got a Tay-hawss accent. Sure...death, destruction...doom...and he sounds just like my cousin who works in the correctional facilities industry. Also I noted last week that the Demon Overlord is one polite motherfucker: just going to show you kids, that you ALWAYS have time to be polite and excuse yourself from the announce table, even when you're in a hurry to work your dark spells over a suggestible 7-footer who is beating the crap out of your brother. 6. Edge and Christian. Last week: 7. This week: 4. This is just because they looked a bit more like Matthew and Gunnar Nelson last week. It's my own personal quirk. 7. The Dudley Boyz. Last week: 5. This week: our biggest single gainers at a big ol' 9. If these guys don't enter the common parlance, there is no justice. And, correspondingly, there will be no peace. 8. Chris Jericho. Last week: 8. This week: 3. This taped business directing you to SmackDown! is ridiculous. I was very high on Jericho (my new word that I'll try to sell La Famille McMahon on: Jerichysteria) after the PPV, when he asked Road Dogg if he knew how to spell "hubris," but have heard nothing so fabulous since. This guy is gonna be huge though. I mean, he already IS huge, I know, but he'll be bigger than the Beatles if they let him write his own stuff and improv on the mic. At least, with me...and other morons like me with Classics degrees. Let the man talk. Let the man wrestle. And let me buy him another spangly shirt, thems is dazzlin'. 9. RAW IS WAR. Last week: 4. This week: 5. I agree with Michelangelo that something was just sort of "off" last week. This week was better, but not much. Not a real pulse-racer. The main match of the evening: yawn-a-roo. But hey -- it's still the best two hours of expanded basic cable in the business. All will be well when the tennis stops. Pretty much words to live by. 10. Kane. Last week: 7. This week: 7. Wow. The isolated kid, abandoned and emotionally betrayed. Mysterious past, inability to communicate pain and terror. This guy makes the characters in Thomas Hardy novels look well-adjusted and content. All the great literary tropes, rolled into one...and wearing a pleather mask, too. What's not to love? Let's see more Kane, less HHH, WAYWAYWAY less Mr. Ass, Stephanie and Test never, at least until they get to divorce court. Laura [slash] wrestling Mail the Author |
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