I can’t believe how quickly Bray Wyatt and his goons have grown stale! Suddenly I’m not interested, they’re all flash and little substance. They built up such epic promise but were ultimately unable to deliver. I couldn’t get into Bray Wyatt’s soliloquy at all — his thing about a house on a hill with a white picket fence (or whatever it was) was tedious and difficult to follow. It turns out John Cena was right:…
Author: Andrea
The following notes I composed before having a chance to watch Payback. I just can’t keep up with all of this archetyp-y goodness. It will be interesting to see if my thoughts are still relevant after the big showdown. John Cena: man of the people, street poet, ever a baby face, literally and figuratively. Up until now, I’ve never had much to say about him. I don’t dislike the man; populist folk heroes just aren’t…
From week to week, Bray Wyatt is increasingly an Iago. From RAW, 5/24/14: “He’s got the whole world in his hands, he’s got the whole wide world in his hands. He’s got the whole world in his hands, he’s got the whole world in his hands. We’re sharing something right now. Something real. I want you to share this with me, brothers and sisters, sing with me – He’s got the whole world in his…
Oh, my dear blog. Life got away from me these past few weeks. I’ve been watching wrestling and taking notes, but the focused time to craft my posts has been hard to find, and my mind has been a thousand places. There are so many things to say — about Lana the post-modern nationalist heel, about Stephanie, the most brilliant McMahon yet, about my thug heartthrob Dean Ambrose — and wrestling keeps charging ahead as…
I didn’t mean to let my beloved lit-smark blog go dormant the past couple weeks. I’ve just had my mind blown by Lana and her flashing of Vladimir Putin’s big head across the jumbotron, and her talking about Edward Snowden and sanctions. Lana as a WWE nationalist heel is a Soviet era cartoon stereotype, a throwback to the era of wrestling that coincided with the cold war. A petite bombshell in a power suit with…
“Sing! Sing! Love! Love! All power in this world is measured by how much love you have. Whether you love to bring joy or suffering, you cannot deny that love is a delectable experience. It is a ravenous wildfire with beautiful flames. It is a divine wine that brings warmth to those who drink it and it cannot be defined. You have to live it! You have to feel it! Get them to love you,…
I once heard a piece of internet folklore from some chick in a random internet forum, not wrestling related, could it have even that feminist message board I used to haunt? Anyway, she swore this was true. Once her dad went into a Denny’s to eat. He’s on the road, traveling, it’s that kind of Denny’s. And he’s got with him to read of all things Gravity’s Rainbow. And who just happens to be sitting…
Back around junior high I was mesmerized by Ultimate Warrior’s energy and his epic hero-sounding soliloquies, like Henry V or somebody, only older, more tribal, a Beowulf or Gilgamesh, or maybe or one of those young upstarts in Greek Mythology who charges in to fight the monster and conquers despite all odds. For his gimmick was, on the face of it, a little difficult to take seriously. But what of it? He fucking shook those…