The split-screen photos comparing batsman Grant Elliott consoling distraught South African bowler Dale Steyn with the F-bomb ladened send-off Elliott received from James Faulkner and Brad Haddin have done the rounds on social media.
Those who lose the war often try to win the peace in printed word and oral history.
But it is flat out living in denial to hope some kind of karmic justice will upset the cosmic universe so this heavy defeat is remembered as a superior moral triumph.
Likewise, it goes much too far to suggest if the requirement for success is to carry oneself like an Aussie - behaving like the sensation which comes from poking a pin into the skin - then please keep your stupid trophy.
We did not lose in Melbourne because nice guys finish last and Michael Clarke's company were big meanies - we lost because we were outdanced on the big stage.
This time last week I said the Black Caps batting unit must see off Mitchell's Starc and Johnson, noting the fear in Starc's eyes the last time he faced Brendon McCullum at Eden Park.
But a month is a long time and Starc went back to the drawing board with his bowling coach and former test quick Craig McDermott so that within the first four salvos at the MCG, the speedster produced pure character assassination.
Swinging the ball away from the charging McCullum, Starc knew he would miss the stumps yet beat the bat of the little general lauded for the best hand-to-eye co-ordination of any pinch hitter in the game.
After conclusive bowler vs batsmen defeats in consecutive deliveries, McCullum was trapped in his own head and pushed indecisively at a swinging yorker - he missed again but Starc did not.
The die was cast from then on - like our national flightless bird, the nocturnal Kiwis scratched and slowly wilted as the too-bright day gave way to an equally blinding floodlit evening.
Elliott withstood the verbal barbs to soldier on and ironically it was Ross Taylor, the only batsman who was justified to be cautious from the beginning given his lack of form, who stood with him.
The team's attacking philosophy was sound because while the pieces no longer seemed to fit, the picture was still slowly coming together.
After Elliott and Taylor set base camp, it only needed a fair slog from Corey Anderson and/or Luke Ronchi to undo McCullum's brain melt. Instead they faltered as Starc, Johnson and Faulkner opened duck season, thus a piddling target under 200 was never going to be more than a stroll for a home team with David Warner and Steve Smith in irrepressible form, to say nothing of Clarke's master class in his swansong 50-over game.
And so they won - rubbing our noses in it - and why were you expecting anything else?
From the Mark Taylor to Ricky Pointing eras, this is the Canary Yellow team that has swiftly pushed Indian officials out of team trophy photos, scoffed in post-match interviews after Ashes defeats that England didn't play well for three of the five days, threatened to break arms, called batsmen cheats and then obtusely demanded they "speak English" when making rebuttal in their native tongues.
Change their ways? You'd have better luck asking a kangaroo to stop hopping.
Forget 'Best Behaviour' awards, the Black Caps' only concern now is making sure their all-but successful template from 2015, devised by McCullum and Mike Hesson, is not thrown away like the innovations Martin Crowe and Warren Lees created in that other World Cup where we did quite well - 1992.
Those heights were followed by a decade of self destruction caused by Sri Lankan car bombs, South African tour drug scandals, and more leadership coups than a South American dictatorship.
Rebuilding off momentum starts with the men in the mirror - and unlike the Michael Jackson song - none of them has to "change his ways" when it comes to personal character.
They're already pretty good guys, they just have to overtake their transtasman neighbour's consistency in big games to become truly great cricketers.
