It is with great pride that I can profess having no childhood obsession or even minor infatuation with professional wrestling. I recall several of my neighborhood buddies owning toy bins filled to the brim with WWF (as it was then referred to) action figures, masks, outfits, trading cards, video games, and other random bits of painted, polymeric paraphernalia.
The video games were always good. Quite honestly, 95% of the 3% I know about pro wrestling was learned through the early video games. The Ultimate Warrior, The Big Boss Man, Andre the Giant, The Undertaker, and of course Hulk Hogan -- these names, Royal Rumble, and a couple moves like the piledriver or the Boston crab are all I knew, mostly thanks to the Frankfort Wal-Mart's miniscule arcade. That's about as far as I got, though.
Something about grown men, who are otherwise overflowing with machismo, and their awestruck sons paying top dollar to see buff, festooned, long-haired men in skin-tight spandex is rather disturbing to me. Personally, the only air-tight packages I'm interested in paying for say "Rubbermaid" on the side. But, hey, maybe that's just me.
Growing up, I frequently played the role of the childlike equivalent to an atheist, trying to throw human reasoning as a nonbeliever at my WWF-smitten playmates to convert them to what science and the rest of the world recognized as truth: The wrestling events and everything about them were completely fake. I think, though, at the time there was still an air of mystery and confusion as to the proclaimed falsehoods surrounding pro wrestling, as if no one was entirely confident that the shows were merely theatrical productions. But now there's no question. In fact, the WWE, or whatever organization acronym the big dogs of pro wrestling are hiding behind now, make no bones about it: they openly admit each show is storyboarded. Yet this has obviously failed to soften the interest of its fans. I don't know the statistics, but I would venture to say pro wrestling is as popular as it ever was. To me, bewildering.
Critics to my bewilderment would probably argue that it's merely entertainment -- a testosterone-infused, Broadway-style show upon a stage enclosed with stretchy ropes. Still ridiculous, but okay. However, most fans call this a "sport" -- it's clearly not. Entertainment, sure. But there's no competitive event taking place. Find a new term.
Mostly I feel sorry for the wives and mothers who have to deal with this obsession in their households and/or are dragged to the shows and also for the parents who are still subletting their basements to their fanatical 40-something-year-old sons.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
I have a feeling this "take" will generate the most perusals.
And why shouldn't it? Facebook has taken over the world -- literally. It, with the combined forces of text messaging, literally has changed the way we socialize and, in some cases, rearranged our priorities. Not just we Americans, but we the world. Sure, there are other social networking sites, but I'm addressing Facebook as (A) it's the largest, most used one right now and (B) it's the only one I use; I haven’t yet ventured out to "tweeting" on Twitter or posting nude pictures of myself in hopes of seducing 11-year-olds on MySpace.
Facebook is the lazy man's answer to "keeping in touch." If you despise phone conversations, have little time for lengthy discussions, or only contact certain people at a certain frequency out of some amiable obligation, Facebook is there for you to sum up that hour-long call in 13 words and a smiley face. There you go, friendship intact. Matter of fact, thanks to Facebook, I hardly call anyone anymore. Sorry, but some acquaintanceships are really only worth an occasional approval of the other's status update.
But like pairs of escalators, there are downsides. (Get it?)
You open yourself to stalkers; beware, they no longer lurk simply in sunglasses and a trench coat (with Facebook, your coworker is probably one of them). Various relationships you have may falter due to Facebook content. You may see and read things that you had hoped to never come across.
Some people just flaunt their true colors on there, don’t they? Man... Withholding and reserved for years, but give 'em a keyboard and monitor to hide behind and suddenly -- [cue loud, explosive mouse click]!! -- they'll throw out their life wishes and sexual preference and relationship status and current employer and alternate means of being contacted and photos, hobbies, moods, fears, regrets...
Oh, wait. That's all of us, isn't it?
I mean, where's the bashfulness in Facebook? Nowhere. It's out the window. No physical space intrusion, no awkward face-to-face confrontations, no social demand for chivalry. And virtually no censors, baby. Post whatever the capital f you want. Go ahead, cuss someone out -- typographically key someone's vehicle -- what can they do? Upload a risqué (albeit within reason) picture, talk sensually to anyone you feel, adamantly promote any agenda you care to -- you can be the real you that you can't be at work, or you can be the desired you that you can't be when being the real you at work.
According to Facebook, as of this writing, I have 589 friends. I know I don't actually have 589 friends. I don't make enough money to have 589 friends. But Facebook has redefined the word "friend." A friend now can range anywhere from someone who knows all your darkest secrets to a friend's friend's friend whom you think is hot and with whom you happen to share equal interest in a local indie band. If you think of the reason why you initially got on Facebook, you'll probably laugh. Most everyone got on there to either find long-lost friends from yesteryear or to supposedly network. Or both. But here’s the conventional depreciation in Facebook friendship acceptance: childhood friends > current friends > people you sort of know > some chick with whom you hazily recall splitting a pitcher last night.
Tweet that.
And why shouldn't it? Facebook has taken over the world -- literally. It, with the combined forces of text messaging, literally has changed the way we socialize and, in some cases, rearranged our priorities. Not just we Americans, but we the world. Sure, there are other social networking sites, but I'm addressing Facebook as (A) it's the largest, most used one right now and (B) it's the only one I use; I haven’t yet ventured out to "tweeting" on Twitter or posting nude pictures of myself in hopes of seducing 11-year-olds on MySpace.
Facebook is the lazy man's answer to "keeping in touch." If you despise phone conversations, have little time for lengthy discussions, or only contact certain people at a certain frequency out of some amiable obligation, Facebook is there for you to sum up that hour-long call in 13 words and a smiley face. There you go, friendship intact. Matter of fact, thanks to Facebook, I hardly call anyone anymore. Sorry, but some acquaintanceships are really only worth an occasional approval of the other's status update.
But like pairs of escalators, there are downsides. (Get it?)
You open yourself to stalkers; beware, they no longer lurk simply in sunglasses and a trench coat (with Facebook, your coworker is probably one of them). Various relationships you have may falter due to Facebook content. You may see and read things that you had hoped to never come across.
Some people just flaunt their true colors on there, don’t they? Man... Withholding and reserved for years, but give 'em a keyboard and monitor to hide behind and suddenly -- [cue loud, explosive mouse click]!! -- they'll throw out their life wishes and sexual preference and relationship status and current employer and alternate means of being contacted and photos, hobbies, moods, fears, regrets...
Oh, wait. That's all of us, isn't it?
I mean, where's the bashfulness in Facebook? Nowhere. It's out the window. No physical space intrusion, no awkward face-to-face confrontations, no social demand for chivalry. And virtually no censors, baby. Post whatever the capital f you want. Go ahead, cuss someone out -- typographically key someone's vehicle -- what can they do? Upload a risqué (albeit within reason) picture, talk sensually to anyone you feel, adamantly promote any agenda you care to -- you can be the real you that you can't be at work, or you can be the desired you that you can't be when being the real you at work.
According to Facebook, as of this writing, I have 589 friends. I know I don't actually have 589 friends. I don't make enough money to have 589 friends. But Facebook has redefined the word "friend." A friend now can range anywhere from someone who knows all your darkest secrets to a friend's friend's friend whom you think is hot and with whom you happen to share equal interest in a local indie band. If you think of the reason why you initially got on Facebook, you'll probably laugh. Most everyone got on there to either find long-lost friends from yesteryear or to supposedly network. Or both. But here’s the conventional depreciation in Facebook friendship acceptance: childhood friends > current friends > people you sort of know > some chick with whom you hazily recall splitting a pitcher last night.
Tweet that.
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