I was twenty-five when I first started writing THE RAW REVIEW in 2012. I was a typical angsty young writer - single, pissed off at the world, envious of “better” generations, and certain that my work was the best in the world. I would tap away furiously at the keyboard, churning out long, irony-laced, condescending, thoughtful critiques of RAW. These early write-ups reflected my state of mind and my state of life.
Read MoreFor the first time in quite some time, I watched RAW in the way the WWE wants me to watch it.
After a weekend dedicated to recording and editing two podcasts, a prototypical 9-5 American Office Monday, and an accumulation of sleep debt that’s in default, a cartoonish, insane, comical, absurd, and completely illogical athletic extravaganza was exactly what I needed.
One follower Tweeted me in agreement that they’d “had about enough reality for today”.
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