World Wrestling Entertainment, formally the WWF until they lost a law suite to the World Wildlife Fund

As an individual with genteel sensibilities, I am not usually accustomed to standing idly by while people beat each other up. That being said, I guess it’s less of a matter for concern when people pretend to slam opponents on their backs. So, in the interest of partaking in the cultural events of this region, we attended WWE Summer Slam in Nashville, TN.

There was loud music. There was flashing lights. There was some dude who looked almost like Hulk Hogan and another that had a bit of Macho Man Randy Savage going on. I think the Illuminati was there—when there are that many “all seeing eyes” popping up, I know its conspiracy theory time. And try as I may, every guy I rooted for seemed to loose.

Things I learned from WWE: if the wrestler highlights being from America—such as playing a song that repeats “he’s a real American” during his entrance—he is going to win. If your character is foreign, they they will loose—poor Fandango, with his gyrating hips of doom. The wrestler with the most stylish outfit will loose, with the exception of the Lucha Tigers—looks like WWE is willing to compromise on their anti-foreigner and retro fashion theme to get a slice of the Lucha Libre audience. If you brag, you loose. Breaking the rules if you are a bad guy is validation of how bad you are but breaking the rules if you are a good guy shows how much you care.

But it was lots of fun.  A few beers definitely helped. As I explained to the children around me, I was rooting for the bad guys because I felt that their bragging and sense of fashion were covering up deep-seated insecurities that led them to lash out. Maybe, all the Sheamus needs is a hug and he’ll share his suitcase with everyone.

Lexi lives in a truck camper down by the river.

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