Like many men of my generation, I once went through a brief & regrettable pro wrestling phase. Mine happened during my sophomore year of college, 1999-2000. It was the age of nu-metal and rap rock; just some months before, I voluntarily attended a Limp Bizkit/Staind concert (10/12/99, Kansas City, MO, in case you want to dig up a setlist). In my defense, I was merely a product of the times, and was not yet wise in the ways of such things as “taste” or “culture” or “bars” or “girls.”
But even though my dalliance with the then-WWF was fleeting, I have remained somewhat interested in the elaborate ongoing storylines of the WWE, both kayfabe and real. Occasionally, a name passes through the news that I still recognize from my days as a wrestling fan and I take note, equal parts embarrassed and proud that I still recognize these names nine years after last giving a damn about pro wrestling for reasons other than to mock it.
But when you take that familiar name and combine it with an amount of drugs that would make Chris Benoit cringe (were he alive today and not, you know, burning in Hell for all eternity), you better believe I’ll do more than just take note…I’m gonna blog about it!