I Guess Nothing Really Changes
by Matthew Damascus
Old News: So a couple of weeks ago I “broke” the story about the Smackdown gay wedding proposal, and then didn’t sweep the pieces under the carpet, or even into the closet, like a considerate person would. So how was it? Well, it’s the WWF — what do you expect other than ashockingswerve! Bait and switch baby! And what made it even worse was that mainstream media outlets were exposed baldly for their shoddy research tactics — in that they gave this total sham (and it was a sham from the beginning) positive press and pushed it to the fore as a major pop culture breakthrough! What? Breakthrough! What? I said… Nevermind.
The former “Bad Ass” Billy Gunn and “Wildman” Chuck Palumbo were as wooden as ever, I have no idea how this storyline was supposed to help them. But hey! They aren’t gay! Thumbs up! Do you hear that GLAAD? GLAAD, of course, destroyed all their credibility this week by fawning to the press about how happy they were over this angle! A breakthrough in the portrayal of gays they said! Positive, they said! What a load of (Mr.) Ass! If their brilliant PR department had spent even fucking fifteen seconds checking the Internet for television tapings results (posted everywhere) or reviewing a Chuck and Billy match, then they would have realized that they shouldn’t have fucking sent a wedding gift (for real!) to yet another stereotypical, out-of-touch, unfunny representation of homosexuals. They were even accompanied to the ring by a hairdresser! For fuck’s sake, the Godfather (an old tired “pimp” character) came out and basically said that he couldn’t understand why they were gay, when they could have (motions at women) this! Thanks Godfather, you opened my eyes, gay people must be stupid!
But hey man! They’re getting married! No, they’re not. They’re tough! No they’re not. They suck. They’re shitty wrestlers, and this gimmick WAS BASED ON THE FUCKING AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO! Grrrrraaarrrr. Did you send the AMBIGUOUSLY GAY DUO A FUCKING WEDDING PRESENT? So anyway, the wedding. Turns out it was a publicity stunt even in the context of the storyline. They aren’t gay! Only “evil” Rico (who actually rules it as a wrestler) is gay (maybe) and he was just forcing them into it. The only good part was when the super-gigantic Island Boyz ran in and destroyed the wedding set, reducing it to splinters, and hopefully, with it, the dreams of WWF’s mainstream appeal. Now I have to go back to watching Raw in a darkened room. Oh well.
Care for documentation? I thought so:
Outsports.com has a great piece on the whole sham.
Wow, if this Yahoo news piece was any indication of the positive press the WWF was slavering after, then I’d hate to see the negative stuff.
A Tangent… A Positive Tangent…
The wonderfully informative Raven forum at scottlevy.com recently yielded a fan’s anecdote where he was pumped to see Raven at his local airport. Of course he rushed up to say hi to the hulking, dreadlocked, tattoed performer — but imagine his surprise when “Raven” turned out to be reclusive Guns N’ Roses genius W. Axl Rose!
Imagine MY surprise when I was checking email on the night of the Video Music Awards and I caught a little whiff of gossip that Guns N’ Roses, of all the fucking bands in the world, were going to serve as an aesthetic palette cleanser and close the otherwise shit-tastic MTV Video Music Awards. So I watched. And waited. And fumed. Bad outfits. Worse music. Inflated sense of self-importance. All of these shitty pop icons just making absolute twats of themselves, without even lifting a finger. Finally, dipshit Jimmy Fallon did something right and introduced them. GUNS N’ FUCKING ROSES! A blast of light and sound, and there they were. There’re about 35 members now, and every single one of them are cooler than all of those exes combined. Yeah! Buckethead with the nunchucks. “On the keyboards, Mr. Dizzy Reed!” Tommy Stinson from the Replacements, a punk rock coup. Robin Finck, the only glamorous one left from Nine Inch Nails! Brain from Primus! My god, palpitations. And of course, the aforementioned hulking dreadlocked W. Axl Rose!
I carry a torch, is it that obvious? I should hope so. Critical faculties have naught whatsoever do with Guns N’ Roses.
He looked fabulous, obviously. Black leather cargo(!) pants, gigantic boots, a black football jersey, classic-style bandana, shaven eyebrows (David Bowie did it, and Axl is cooler than Bowie now anyway) and a mass of orange-red dreadlocks sprouting out like the cornfields in the Indiana that he simultaneously runs from and is curiously drawn back to. He’s Ziggy Stardust recast as a professional wrestler. Those years in exile away from prying eyes and palpitating trends have seemingly de-aged him — his face looks young and unworried, and he’s fucking cut as well, must work out or something. He rules it. His visual presentation is iconic, and as I mentioned above, he has the perfect band to back him up both musically and visually.
Guns N’ Roses got to close the whole piece of shit with whatever they chose to fill the time, and make the audience’s lives worth living. “Welcome To the Jungle,” “Madagascar” (buy the Rio bootleg! Soak in the godhead!), and “Paradise City” sealed the immortality deal. Most bands, after Christina Aguilera’s bizarre outfit, wouldn’t have been up to it. Oh, but times are different now.
Fuck man, I remember when everyone thought that Nirvana finally finished off Guns N’ Roses in 1994 when Guns N’ Roses played a aching symphonic version of “November Rain” and Nirvana ripped out a caustic “Lithium.” Remember that, Axl was cast as the rock icon villain and Kurtney were the brave revolutionaries striking out for punk purity? What a strange fucking change a few years make, eh? Dead Kurt’s diaries are about to be published in a multimillion dollar book deal, Courtney Love is starring in a movie with Kevin Bacon and writing songs with Linda (FUCKING VOMIT) Perry of the mega shit 4 Non Blondes, and AXL is now the only one leading a hungry, experimental kick fucking ass rock band? YEAH? HOW THE FUCK ABOUT THAT HUH? FUCK YOU DISBELIEVERS? There’s your alternative! There’s your “punk!” Where’re the stones, now? GNR is rock and roll. Kiss Axl’s ass, now! He has survived, he hasn’t gone to shit, everyone else sucks. Game over. Fuck you.
Next Time: You Mean It’s Not Cool Anymore?