Strove to find a way to punch people in the face by using the Internet.


Bittersweet Reminiscing in the Autumn of My Life, Duh
Oh, you know, while we’re on the subject of professional wrestling, I should point out that I hate it.

That wasn’t always the situation, though. At one time I loved professional wrestling. Scientists measured my love as having an intensity of .4 Ringwalds.


Pretty strong. So strong, in fact, that I once was a professional wrestler.

And a champion.


That’s me in the middle, with the title belt. You might notice from recent photographs that in the decade since this was taken I’ve traded in a good bit of hair for a few dozen pounds of succulent ass-fat, as well as a significant dose of handsome.

Fans of well-crafted rock ‘n’ roll will also notice members of the top-notch musical group Less Than Jake in the photo. On the evening these photos were taken, Less Than Jake (a band whose music incorporates elements of punk, pop, ska, ‘80s hair metal and minimalist modern composition informed by serialism, a la Webern as filtered through Steve Reich) hosted a professional wrestling competition during their performance. Here’s the flyer:


No disqualification. My specialty.


My opponents and I sharing a quiet moment backstage, just minutes before the fight. That’s Darlin’ Dave on the left. I respect Dave a lot. He went on to produce a famous movie that exposed a dangerous plot to destroy America by some dumpy blonde communists. Dave is a good American. I respect The Great Sabikawa as well. After being bested in combat on this particular night, he took an honest look at the holes in his game and shortly reemerged as Kaiju Big Battel’s Super Akuma before retiring to spend all his time hanging around straightedge hardcore bands and actresses who specialize in adult films.


Me and Dave, totally not being gay. Not even a little.

When not competing, Dave and I used to spend hours and hours watching professional wrestling with each other, a pastime that is also totally not even a little gay, even when we’d get worked up and bust out moves on each other and roll around on the floor and Dave would tear his shirt off like a ferocious bear and we'd kiss.

We’d talk about professional wrestling too, boring the ever-living shit out of everyone around us while debating the merits of the various tan, oiled, chiseled and totally not gay performers who’d trot themselves out on our favorite television programs and grunt and sweat and grapple and pretend to fight while wearing panties.

“You know what I love about professional wrestling? Despite the kid-friendly Hulk Hogan boom of the '80s, it’ll never be absorbed by the mainstream,” I remember telling Dave. Around this time, you see, audience-friendly, defanged punk bands such as Green Day were starting to become popular. While not necessarily upset by this, I was confounded. As a more-or-less lifelong fan of punk rock, it was strange to see something I had always considered angry and strange and threatening widely accepted by well-adjusted children and teens from good homes. “It’ll never happen with professional wrestling,” I’d say. “As pop culture, wrestling is too weird, too carny, too sleazy and Southern for normal people. It’s too stupid, too violent, and therein lies its brilliance.” I’d stop there, lest some hoodlum come along and bestow upon me a master’s degree. Plus about that point Dave would hit me in the mouth with his elbow.

I was wrong, of course. As usual. Not long after, wrestling became wildly popular, mostly by ditching any pretense of sport and focusing entirely on the stupidity and violence. Without the context of competition for contrast, the stupidity and violence soon became tiresome (except for rare instances when they got the ratio right, roughly 99.9 parts violence to .01 parts stupidity). Anyway, after a few years of coasting along I started to hate it. Really, really hate it. (Well, mostly.) And it wasn’t but 10 or 11 years ago I was the Less Than Jake World Heavyweight Champion. Life is funny.

This video is funny, too, if by “funny” you mean “possibly the most idiotic and embarrassing thing on the entire Internet.” My apologies, in advance:

And afterwards?


Basking in the glory of a hard-won victory, of course.

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