I remember going to the neighbours' houses at night, beyond midnight, to watch Summer Slam. Survivor Series or WrestleMania.
Video tapes rented at RM2 a pop from the local video store that also rents out Hindi movies and Chinese serials.
I'm watching this movie with Mickey Rourke in it. The Wrestler. Also got Marisa Tomei flashing her tits.
You know what always get to me? Professional wrestlers. Not the multi-millionaire Terry Bollea (Hulk Hogan), Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson or whatever the fuck.
I'm talking about the little guy in the small circuits. In the '80s, they were gods. Worshipped. Loved. Then the 90s came. Kobain happened, Milli Vanilli, MC Hammer, Rip Van 'Vanilla Ice' Winkle and kids all wanted to show how jaded and unbelieving they are. How they are not fools, like their parents. How sophisticated they are, with their underwear on the outside of their pants.
Funny. When I was a kid, the only guy with his underwear outside was Superman. And friends.
The only professional wrestling that survives, properly, are the big promos. Since all of NWA and later WCW and ECW got eaten up by WWE, there's only one place to go. Up or down.
When you got onto the WWE roster, you might be making millions a year by having people jump all over you and ramming your head to a chair.
When Jake 'the Snake' Roberts left, the only way he's going is down. Down a path of drug abuse and alienation.
I have always sympathised with the professional wrestlers. Especially the little guys. They're like boxers, except they get injured in other places.
I saw Beyond the Mat and several other wrestling documentaries. This movie, The Wrestler, just reminds me of those things. Sad, sad shit.
They always seem like those stupid 'autobiographical' essays they teach us in school. Though it's 'autobiographical', the teachers always tell us to write about the life of some stupid pen that eventually runs out of ink and gets thrown out or something.
How can an eight year old relate to a fucking pen? I complained to a teacher, and she told me that, well, kids are stupid.
And I do agree. Kids ARE stupid.
Anyway, back to pro wrestlers.
Yeah, I know, they chose that life. It was their decisions, over the years. The steroids, the manic personalities. Always their choice. Like how some Palestinian kids chose to live in Palestine and then get killed by Israelis. And vice versa.
Count your lucky stars, they say. Just fuck 'em. Be thankful you're more fortunate than other people, and just chuck 'em aside. Who the fuck cares about them? Anyone who is less fortunate than you. And for all you know, they get off on being victims.
And if you do, for example, feel sorry for hookers and wrestlers, and do something good for them, they might just take advantage of you. Think about yourself. Don't think about other people.
Oh well. Nothing I can do anyway.
