Yep, Wrasslin' Where you can shake off getting slammed with a metal folding chair, and yet a el-cheapo breakaway guitar will lay you out and put you on a stretcher to be carried from the ring. I'll give the participants credit. Most of them are highly skilled stunt performers, entertainers; ummm, not so much. Well, not to my cynical eye that is. I don't get it. People pay money for this nonsense? What a tough way to make a living, getting dropped on your head three times a week. I guess it isn't too bad if you can score $140 million for your sex tape.
I used to watch Professional Wrestling; when I was 11. Way back before it had been re-imaged and re-branded as Sports Entertainment. Granted, it was still fixed, I was as certain of it then as I am now. Fake, fake, fake. Who me, skeptical, really? Whoda Thunk it? You would have never convinced my grandmother to give up her belief in the 'Show'. She was as convinced as were the elderly twin women who always seemed to be in the front row.
"Wait, isn't this match in Kansas City at the armory? It looks just like the armory in Minnesota last week. Yep, there are the twins, again, always. Right there in the front row, again, always."
There were many Saturday nights spent with a cousin who is close in age, both of us stretched out on a pallet on the floor in our grandparent's living room, they called it the front room. I might be lying if I said I went for the wrestling and not for the cold root beer and a package of Twinkies.
In this part of the wastelands it was "All Star Wrestling". Names like Handsome Harley Race, Rufus R. Jones, Danny Little Bear, Bulldog Bob Brown, and a host of other Heels, Faces and Jobbers whose names I can't remember, (it's been a long time), graced us with their skills and athletic prowess. My timeline is a little fuzzy here, I seem to remember horror movies coming on afterwards up until sign-off. I also seem to remember Star Trek (original in syndication) in the time slot after Baron von Raschke forced an opponent to surrender due to the inescapable IRON CLAW! The iron claw never seemed to work for me. I would have much rather preferred to have been skilled in the use of the Vulcan nerve/neck pinch. It would have been handier.
I can safely and with utmost conviction state, Vince McMahon et al. receive no support, financial or otherwise from yours truly.
Once again, Thanks.
See you tomorrow.
Postscript. Stand and shout huzzah. I managed to claw back one of my lost days. I wrote one, yep one entry over the weekend.
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