Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Best Coast Bias: CeNation, Indivisible?

He should really be called the Emblem but apparently that wouldn't sell
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With a heavy heart this installment of the Bias must be written with a shroud of black on.  A fine, fine joke passed away last night.  You see, for the length of this show there was comedy.  A couple of times there was even high comedy. And then, there was John Cena putting a button on the opening sting for the show.   The E's poster boy appearing on the tertiary show?  Sir, are you lost? You had a better chance of seeing a Chippewa make out with Daniel Snyder before John Cena would end up here.

And yet.

Bray Wyatt may've referred to himself as a god Monday night, and if you ignore the fact he needed 600 pounds of help and the missing child of the corn to win Sunday, you can see the Durdenesque logic in play behind the mind of the WWE's closest equivalent to an all-singing all-dancing-with-his-opponents-when-they've-been-pummeled-by-his-minions Project Mayhem of the Stamford World.   He beat John Cena, his message is growing his cult fanbase.  This should be leading to a slow moving breakdown on Cena's part, except for one thing: for him, everything on his annually changing merch is a way of life in addition to a cash cow that allows for beach houses and hot twins admist the Make-A-Wish granting.

So it was that he came to Main Event, not to belittle the fans but semi-stoically note his powerless over them being able to go a different way if they so chose.  But he also wanted to note he wasn't giving up, and why should he?  He won at WrestleMania, and nearly beat the 103rd Airborne at Extreme Rules.  There's some form of a rubber match coming, and that should get his attention above all else.  In WWE, despite his general record of pay-per-view/Network special success this year, Wyatt knows there's something more important than the belts Daniel Bryan's holding, and that's beating John Cena.  Most religion is montheistic, fancy talk for "there can be only one".  In order for Wyatt to scorch the Earth to rebuild it in his image, he has to take down this empire's.

And if he can't unleash the monster within whether through Cena's stubborn willpower or Rumsfeldian compartmentalization, then the only alternative is to hit Cena with the hardest blow he can, more vicious than any uranage or swinging reverse facebuster: his connection to the youth that gives him superhuman powers and strength.  Adapt or die is for fallen kings and hungry soldiers; when you're so far above the game the act of winning over you could make somebody go from counterculture weirdo to actual threat and you supercede the entire Championship history of THIS BUSINESS, you can be the same and let the various crowds be the water which flows around you.  John Cena is a rock who's beaten The Rock.  Hell, he'll even show up Tuesday nights if you ask.

Sure, it would've been interesting if something had seismically shifted and changed everything.  But a moment that threatened such had literally just happened before Cena hit the ring in the Goldust/Curtis Axel match.   With Cody on a losing streak and his brother acquiring the nasty habit of succeeding where he's been failing lately it all seemed to be coming together.  Goldust was down on the floor, slowly coming up, and Cody ran up the barrier before flying off with the Disaster Kick.  And then--

--Dustin ducked down and the oncoming Ryback caught it right in the face.  Shortly thereafter the Final Cut won the former Intercontinental Champion the match, and his interspersing looks of sheer joy and relief were glorious.  It's so unbelievably hard to sell a moment non-verbally but since Goldust is some kind of time lord of course he pulled it off as if it weren't no thang, shaming even Cody's wry look of "Oh, what?  You thought that was coming at *you*?" betwixt high fives and hugs.  Someday the fissure is going to be a rupture that goes beyond the healing point, and when it does it'd be a Fun Dip sweet nod to get Continuity Bear to do his dance if the breaking point came off another springboard kick from the heel of the formerly Dashing one.

While dashing and prancing aren't synonyms, there are several hundred million things that're less closely related; there's a lot of symmetry there to be seen by anyone who cares to look.   And so it was the wheels came off of Jack Swagger's efforts to beat Dolph Ziggler the moment Why Isn't This Chelsea Dagger Already? and Adam Rose came out crowdsurfed on the hands of his Rosebuds.  The entire style-making cult of the bored party-happy young quickly undermined the Real Americans, and soon Dolph was in the ring with some cuties in a conga line.  The fact he could even move after going Full Ziggler three times in the opening five minutes is a testament to everything that made Amy Schumer break up with him; FZing once is enough, and three times that quickly in such a low-profile match is pretty much the dictionary definition of suffering for one's art.  This probably isn't the origin story for Team Ad-Dolph, but it still feels like the White House should be petitioned to let Adam and the Bunny become Tag Champions at some point this year.

In addition, there was an infomercial for Total Divas that also functioned as a six-woman tag match.  Cameron and Natalya were beefing before, during, and after the match, but with Naomi as the awkward onlooker glue that barely held things together they managed to overcome Tamina and Foxsana.  To the surprise of absolutely no one the match was best when Alicia and/or Naomi were in there, thus probably no doubt infuriating Alexander Rusev.  You'd think Cameron would be more appreciative, seeing as she was the one who threw the house party in somebody else's house while losing their cat to boot and literally Hibberted this whole match with a nice big fact round number ending, beginning, and compromised by the number 0, but some things in life are inexplicable.  You know, like the name of a team outliving the thing that inspired the name in the first place.  Surely every member of the Jazz and Lakers knows what that's like.  None of them could pull off a double jump split legged moonsault like Naomi, however, and here that made all the difference. NattieKat can call Cameron fake all she wants if that level of athleticism is still going to go on around their common bond fraying and bending.

It'd be a brave new world for WWE to enter with not every single face being in love with each other, but then again this was an hour where Disaster kicks failed to drop brothers and the Franchise had to come out with a soothing verbal massage for the kiddies.  Just the fact he showed up shows progress; that said, like most progress, it may take a long time for an institution to change its ways for good.