Like many in the pro-wrestling community the first time I ever saw Bray Wyatt was when he debuted on the main roster, Luke Harper and Erik Rowan at his side. I then watched, over the next several months, as this transfixing character grabbed hold of the hearts and minds of the audience. Everything he did intoxicated us. I particularly remember his unnerving renditions of “He’s got the whole world in his hands…” and the crowd singing it back in unison. Bray’s entrance music was distinct and eerie in a mediocre soup of rock riffs. He seemed to glide to the ring as his fireflies - wrestling fans with their cell phone flashlights turned on in the dark - guided him toward the ring. That use of technology, the natural evolution of holding a lighter up, was a literal manifestation of the metaphorical relationship between character and fan.
Read More
I haven't watched a full episode of RAW in over three months.
I catch up by way of clips on Twitter and I skim through Hulu's already abridged version. I spend most of my time perusing the promos, the skits, and whatever vignettes there may be, cramming the broad strokes of the larger narratives so that I might be able to pass whatever WWE-quiz comes my way. Altogether, after also checking up on SmackDown, I've condensed my WWE-viewership into about thirty minutes a week (unless there's a pay-per-view and then that duration naturally increases).
The result is that I'm a much happier human being, and I'm probably a lot easier to be around. I don't obsess about booking decisions. I don't bicker with anyone online. I don't care about anyone's criticism of my criticisms. The imagined judgements of some phantom "real pro-wrestling fan" have vacated my mind, replaced with a sense of peace and the ability to interact with pro-wrestling in a healthier way on my own terms.
Read More