Last night's RAW was well on its way to being its usual barely watchable self. My companion and I drank heavily, hoping to insulate ourselves against the WWE's patented brand of Sports Entertainment Vacuum. Immobilized by alcohol and tedium, we gaped helplessly as another installment of the Viscera-Charlie Haas-Lillian Garcia soap opera heaved itself, gasping, onto the airwaves.
I made a slurred, awkard attempt to explain my theory of Lillian as existential cypher, but to no avail. I sighed, kissed my few remaining brain cells goodbye, and settled in to watch the aesthetic carnage. Then, a magic miracle happened. A magic miracle riding a unicorn-pegasus, covered in pink glitter, with a rainbow tail, trotting gleefully along the equator of a planet-sized disco ball.
Lillian declared that she "just want[ed] to be friends" with the two grapplers (neatly removing herself from the storyline and resuming her duties as my personal wrestling avatar), at which point Viscera slammed the holy mule-fuck out of her. Charlie Haas spent a brief moment miming disgust at the shocking act of misogyny, before grinning at Viscera. The two heaving, burly fellows clasped each other in a passionate embrace and tongue-kissed for twelve full minutes.
Or not. But the INTENT was clearly there.
I should explain. Ten years ago, after eating a bad pot of chili and passing out in front of the TV, my friend Matt experienced a vivid hallucination in which he attended a New Year's Eve Party with Viscera. Vis was dressed in a vibrant yellow rain slicker and was FLAMBOYANTLY GAY. Once Matt's fever broke, he recounted this tale to our group of grappling enthusiasts. The idea seized us with a fierce and implacable grip. It was, we felt, a concept whose time had come. A wrestling gimmick for the twenty-first century. A Hero For The Ages: Big Gay Viscera. A cleansing fire, sent to burn out the ugly homophobia that has long tainted pro wrestling. A Big Fire. A Sexy Fire. A Great Big Sexy Gay Mountain of a Fire.
For years, we waxed rhapsodic over the concept. When, we wondered, would the WWE take the first step? It seemed so clear to us. Viscera has been criminally underused for his whole career, waddling from gimmick to gimmick, never winning the hearts and minds of the fans. Why not, we pondered, go gay?
And then, last night... there it was. A tentative, trembling step in the right direction. A brief flicker of current passed between Viscera and Charlie Haas. Yes, they stopped short of an embrace. Yes, wrestling still has a long way to go before an obese gay black man can truly be accepted by Mass Fandom. Yes to these things and more... but a crucial first step nonetheless. We, dear readers, have witnessed the dawning of a bold new era. Please join us here at Arabian Facebuster in praying that the WWE do not lose their balls.
Their Big, Gay, Balls.
1 comment:
I am actually intrigued by this Charlie Haas/Big Gay Viscera tag team. The WWE unquestionably had a ready made feud for them . . . Gene Snitsky and Goldust . . . before releasing the latter combatant a few weeks back. Granted, the actual wrestling match(es) would fall somewhere between uninspiring (think of any Lex Luger match during his WWF run) and downright dreadful (think of any Lex Luger match on WCW Thunder, preferably as a member of the NWO Wolfpac battling the likes of NWO Silver n Black members Horace Hogan or Stevie Ray), but consider if you will all of the 10 minute morality plays that could occur on RAW (broken down, that's 5 1/2 minutes of backstage skits and promos, 2 1/2 minutes for ring introductions, and 2 minutes of in-ring action), negotiating the politics of race, gender, and sexual identity/difference with every rear chin lock and arm-bar.
Of course, none of the above will ever occur, at least in a ring that ONLY has four sides. But if the payoff to this "heartbroken mid-carders" angle are a scorned Haas and Viscera hiring Joey Greco of the syndicated, critically acclaimed television juggernaut "Cheaters" to snoop on Lillian and then confront her outside the parking lot of a Comfort Inn with nothing more than a microphone, two cameras, and a profound and steadfast sense of outrage and moral certitude (particularly while the cameras are rolling), then by god I say the gradual "divafication" of Lillian will have all been worthwhile.
Or just turn Viscera flamingly, flamboyantly gay.
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