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NPR's Laura

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Pop Culture Indicators & Rankings for the week of Feb. 14, 2000
where's Classie Freddie Blassie when you need him?

Hello everyone, sorry I haven't been around much lately to spew my particular brand of vitriol about, but I've been looking for a job and moving into this very dark, strange little apartment here in Chicago. The upside of living here is that there's about 20 times more wrestling on TV here than in DC, which is not such a shock when you think about it. I have, in short order, become more and more disenchanted with WCW and WWF, finding myself mostly attracted to ECW in all its guises. Which is not to say that I'm not watching the Big Two, because I am...but when I'm talking to someone about wrestling, I'm generally referring them to ECW folk. Regrettable, actually, given the dire straits the ECDub is about to be in, given defections and injuries and all that...I know that I'm not enthused about six to eight weeks of Mike Awesome vs. Spike Dudley, night after night after night.

So I decided to watch some WCW tonight, though I will admit that I flipped around a little to watch the dog show. Love the names of the dogs...they're like mad libs gone horribly, horribly wrong. "CH Winton's Tinky Winky Woo The Fifth." "CH Grievous Angel Tenure Bunnies." Whatever. Never let anyone tell you that the rich aren't completely insane. Actually, I'd like to see the WKC show called by Ross and Lawler, because that would be a hoot. I have nothing against the WKC show, except that it's preempting RAW. The little old lady owners crack me up in their polyester Better Sportswear coordinate pantsuits and their Ship 'n' Shore blouses... the way these people all cut the hair of the poodles so that the poor things look vaguely like Dennis Rodman...the thirty-eight varieties of little dogs that look like the business end of a mop...what's not to love? But for the most part I watched the spectacle, the honor and the glory, the down but no where near out military industrial entertainment complex that is America-Time-Warner-Turner's very own WCW Nitro. Here's where I'm coming from on this. I'll try to just hit the high points.

Match of the night: Black and white makeup is clearly the big WCW fashion statement, even sans Sting. Vampiro and Kidman vs. The Artist Formerly Known as Prince Ikea and La Parka is clearly the best thing we're going to see tonight, even though TAFKAPI and his agent ought to consider that perhaps what you want to do in an entrance is inspire people to get revved up about seeing you, rather than inspiring the urge to root around in your purse for a lighter to hold aloft and sway. Match goes much as I expected until the end, when Vampiro left the ring and the other two won, blah blah blah.

Odd moment of the night: closeup on Daphne as the announcers debate whether it's acceptable to refer to her as 'a banshee'

Culturally insensitive moment of the night: This is a dead heat between Rhonda Monster-Whatever and the whole Italian-American Family nonsense. All I can say is: Rhonda what's-her-name definitely knows who she is and is comfortable with that. The Italian Family/Cosa Nostra thing didn't work. Boneheads in the booking office. Sheesh.

My Hero and He Oughta Be Yours Too: is Terry Funk, god love him. This man is three years younger than my dad and did a moonsault tonight. Goes out and does the got-damned job every got-damned night, and gets paid okay but not outstandingly. Takes the bumps no one else will, time after time. I love Terry Funk.

Flair v. Hogan: or, as I think of it, Stegosaurus v. Triceratops. This is like watching paint dry, actually, and it's just the intros. Hogan appears to have put on some weight, and has also apparently become either a Cistercian monk or a really dedicated student of the Summa Theologicae, because his usual balding self appears to have received some kind of shaping into an actual tonsure. Okay, a long tonsure. The mullet-equivalent of a tonsure. The crowd seems really interested in counting. Let me just mention here that I have a lot of respect for Ric Flair, but frankly, there's only one Nature Boy. It would not surprise me to find that someway, somehow, WCW actually has Buddy Rogers under contract. Perhaps he'll be wheeled out next week in his coffin to wrestle Hogan. This thing is going to have to last at least 15 minutes? Oh, brother. They're running...okay, walking...around each other. This is like watching two very elderly gymnasts do the floor exercise. Oh, my god! a screwjob ENDING?!?!!?? Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Oh, man, this is terrible. This entire crowd is sort of nonplussed. The people being paid to proudly wear the red and yellow in the front rows are kind of yawning. There's a gazillion people in the ring, and no one cares. Except Terry Funk, bless his heart. This is so sad. The whole thing is suffused with the air of people who are just plain trying too hard to look like they're having a good time. The eighties rock soundtrack is not noticeably helping, either.

Jarrett and Vicious: big deal. What is this all about? How long is Goldberg out for? Is anybody watching this? I'm going to get a soda. I'm back, and it's over. Sigh. No idea what happened here. I'm gonna watch some more of the dog show, killing time until the WWF thing.

You know, they've never taken the Undertaker out of the opening montage. Mark, come back, we need you. Jeez, the crowd here is like, light years away from the grim-faced WCW crowd. I must say that I was pleased beyond all sensibility by the movement of Saturn, Guerrero, Benoit and Malenko to the WWF. And to see that they were pretty much immediately embraced as heels. Something that Ted et al. couldn't quite work up to.

Here's something that CRZ will have an opinion on: has Steph gotten a personal trainer or something? Or just surgery? Surgery doesn't seem like her style. I'll leave the last word on this to the online experts.

I'll take this opportunity to mention that I cannot get over how quickly Rikishi and Too Cool caught on. Never underestimate the power of amusement, I guess...the crowd can't seem to get enough of the incongruous situation in which Jerry's Kid and an enormous man in a thong dance around to synthesizer funk.

Oh, wow, Tori just gave a really dirty look to Hunter here when he called her 'virginal.' That's weird. Yawn-a-roo. HHH is squandering the excitement of the crowd. He's just not that good on the stick.

Now here's Rikishi. Now here's Kane. This really opens up some great opportunities for the return of the Undertaker -- not that they'll take any of them. It would make a ton of sense for them to bring him out to say something like "I told you you would regret not being hardened and tough..." and get him back in the swing of things. Now here's the Rock, widely rumoured to be a future host of Saturday Night Live in not-too-far-off days. Mayhem ensues. Whatever.

The Truth rages against the Machine of Big Tobacco. What is this organization? Why should any of us care? Who exactly is spinning us now? It would not surprise me to discover that this is some sort of Philip Morris youth-education thing.

Here's Edge, here's Jeff Hardy, here's a wrong ring-announcement by Lilian Garcia. When are they going to put *her* in a neck brace? There seems to be a surplus of women getting put into chiropractically-challenging positions lately -- Terri, Barbara the EMT, Tori, whatever. I'm not even going into the Mae Young pregnancy thing here. Now here are the Dudley Boys, whom I love more by the week. Jeez -- actual wrestling. I don't know if my heart can take it. D-Von wins. Life is good. Trouble brewing between America's Sweethearts, Edge & Xian & The Hardyz.

And now...more of the inscrutably popular Mark Henry/Mae Young thread. Hope they're paying this woman well over scale to put up with this indignity, week after week.

And now...another commercial.

And now...back to the Shark Tank. And the increasingly tiresome intro for the D-oh-dubba-gee and his partner in crime, the artist formerly known as a champion professional bull rider. WWF Entertainment, decide what you want to do with these guys: are they heels, or not? Oh, wait, his quote fair-assed compadre unquote is not with us tonight. I have now finally learned the official spelling for Grandmaster Sexay. Lawler tells us that this is going to be "a cool match." He's going on and on about 'physicality' and 'athleticism.' I've seen less nepotism amongst the Zaire civil service under Mobutu Sese Seko. Oh, well, they're pulling off some crisp moves here so at least it's not a complete waste of time.

Back from the break, we have the Godfather and D'Lo and, as I would expect from The Left Coast, some really high-quality, made with a minimum of 40% natural ingredients hookers. I have been threatening for some time to make a vest for the Godfather that is airbrushed with "Pimpin' for Christ" on the back: now may be the time. Al Snow and Steve Blackman attempt to establish some kind of rapport. Now they're in the ring. Ross takes a very clever shot at Lawler's crown affectation.

Kurt Angle: I'm pretty much crazy about Kurt Angle. I am pleased to see how he's throwing himself into the heel thing. A significant long-term feud between he and Jericho could be a classic.

I got a phone call here. No idea what happened.

Cultural significance meter: holding steady at a 7. I think McMahon is overextending himself with this XFL business, though he does get style points for saying at the press conference that he thinks "figure skating sucks."

Chyna was on the Tonight Show last week and was terrific, in my opinion, doing just what she should be doing as a surgically-addicted sports entertainment figure. Over on the other side of the card, we see that DDP has his own book coming out, showing us that anything worth doing is worth doing badly when it's been proven to make money. So now we have three books out there, which Michiko Kakutani of the New York Times Book Review will steadfastly refuse to review. Which, frankly, is the best publicity either company could hope for. The WCW offering tonight was really reminiscent of the "Legends of Wrestling" PPV debacle, but at least they're playing to their strengths and (misguidedly) trying to capitalize on the names that they have left on the roster. The wrestling wrenaissance can't last, but it's clicking along just fine at the moment.

Trends to watch: facepaint, traction prosthetic medical devices, estrogen therapy, movie cross-promotion deals.

We live in interesting times.

Laura
[slash] wrestling

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