Oh, for a muse of fire! It’s about damn time a faction of brooding heartthrobs emerged in Area Code Pro Wrestling. Like really, why has the patriarchy been so squirmy about appealing to the thirsty demographic? WIth the exception of a certain refrain about a fairly tame wrestler who hails “straight from your baby-mama’s DM’s,” the local wrestling promotion has been a downright prudish affair in the year and a half it’s been running. Money…
Category: Audience Theory
Oh, that this too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Because in November, right as the deep abjection of my seasonal affective disorder was cranking into high gear, the local booking unfolded into a biting allegory of Alaska’s colonial history. I was deeply unsettled by this turn of events. I did not expect such depth of concept from this little dog and pony show. As I descended into my scheduled…
Three teenage girls ran up to me while a match was going one time when I was the ring announcer for the local wrestling promotion. They asked if they could take a picture with me. It was only my third show as ring announcer, and I was still figuring out all the dynamics of my role. If you’re doing it right it’s a very busy job, announcing for a professional wrestling show. My voice was…
“Hell hath no fury like a woman fashion policed by a man who looks like Fred Flintstone.” —Proverb The Goonies ‘R’ Good Enough was, I shit you not, the song Pandora chose as I rolled up on the quaint craft fair out front of the 907 Pro Wrestling venue last weekend. “LFG,” I said to the voices in my head about this cornball synchronicity, because Cyndi Lauper of all people would understand the very niche existential…
The storyline is heating up at the little wrestling promotion where I used to ring announce and am now a smarky gonzo journalist in the audience. The top referee in the company is a woman. Her love, the embattled babyface, proposed to her in the ring after a big show last month, right after he finally won the championship. As she held his hand up to affirm that he was the winner, he pulled her…
We must imagine Generico happy, no longer striving to impress audiences or wrangle opponents, no longer, we hope, hurting himself for art and entertainment. Sami Zayn is less lucky.
Yoshi-Hashi doesn’t have a lot of the things wrestling stars have. He’s not beautiful like Ibushi, or charming like Taguchi, or hard like Ishii. He doesn’t have the natural charisma or athleticism of Nakamura or Okada. He’s not comfortable on mic or powerful in his crowd work. He’s pretty awkward, usually, visibly anxious and vocal about being in pain. His shoulder is always taped, and unlike other wrestlers who wear sleeves or pads or black support wraps, he just wears tape. He’s open about injury in a way most wrestlers, pretending to be gods, aren’t. He’s a good wrestler, technically, but there are lots of good wrestlers.
[Content warning for discussions of suicidal ideation.] In The Empire Strikes Back, Luke Skywalker arrives on Dagobah to begin his Jedi training. We see him meet Yoda, see him lifting objects and being lectured by his teacher, see him confront the apparition of Darth Vader. It’s implied that he’s on the planet for a month, maybe two. All this goes by in about 30 minutes on the screen; two months of Luke’s life compressed into…
It’s August, 2015, and it’s the go-home show before TakeOver: Brooklyn, the very first TakeOver to be held outside of Full Sail University. Kevin Owens–who will be gunning for Finn Balor’s title one last time before heading off to the main roster–comes to the ring to hype the match, and when he mentions Brooklyn, the Full Sail crowd erupts into boos and “Brooklyn sucks” chants. They’ve always been able to witness TakeOvers, the payoffs to…