I know, I know. This is ActiveRain, not ActivePain, and the likelihood of anyone coming across this piece of prose who is remotely interested in the art that was Pro-Wrestling is about as likely as me coming across a member of the Latter Day Saints who is familiar with Peter North. They (LDS) are much more likely to recognize "Big Love" or its gentle reminder, the dark guy at the end of the hall.
Anyway, I've been a rassling fan ever since I was punted out of the womb. While it seemed an anti-intellectual endeavor for a guy whose IQ at one time eclipsed 80, I still think 5% of the crap stands the test of the time. However, this may be the last Wrestlemania I buy. These days, it's the only PPV I invest in. Coin the "invest" term very loosely, my friends.
Maybe the whole Benoit thing took it out of me. Actually, I think it did. And as I was watching Monday Night Raw this fine evening, it reminded me that maybe my still boy-ish love for that form of entertainment has died another day.
While I love seeing The Rock back in his original stomping grounds, it also reminds me that steroids are still prevalent. Let me write it like this ... I have no doubt that some of these boys cycle before the Big Show. Cycle is a term utilized when you aren't doing steroids regularly, but for special occassions. Kind of like a circumcision at a Muslin Wedding. What a way to get around things ... it's always pretty cool to watch folks who represent the best body that pharmaceuticals can buy.
Snooki hosting Raw? Normally, I don't give a rat's beady ass who hosts the show. When you've got sixteen minutes of wrestling on a two hour program, you take what you can get and ignore the rest. But Snooki? I've never watched this very popular Jersey Shore. Yet, if I may, who in the hell did Nicole sell her soul too to become this famous ... this rich ... this acclamated with American Culture? Christ, she looks like the Lollipop Guild got a harsh tan and bad boob job.
Drew Carrey is in their Hall of Fame? What's next, the best of Jay Leno in the ring? Oh Hell, never mind ...
How about their closest competition? An organization formed in the South and their PPV last night was a Main Event match pitting Sting vs. Jeff Hardy. And it lasted 90 seconds or so because maybe the latter guy was in no state to perform. I'm not sure what I hate worse ... my love for a fucked up industry or the fact that I watch re-runs of Two & A Half Men ... and think it is any more palatable.
I've always disliked more than I liked (as far as rasslin goes) and despite going against my Father's more logical recommendation of trying out as a writer, I chose to take a headbutt from a Wild Samoan to prove I was just tough enough to ensure that the guy who beat me up in the fifth grade would have to meet his maker at the 20th Reunion.
And a cigarrette dangles from the lips that aren't reasoned ...
Bring On Wrestlemania!