Last night I attended for the first time ever a WWE home show. Maybe it was a house show? Something like that…there was wrestlers none of whom were either Hulk Hogan or Mr. T and a ring and all these Simpsons style catchphrases the crowd is deeply knowledgeable about. Surreal.

That’s right I reluctantly dusted off my pants and got dressed. (I also showered…I’ve had no place to go or be at home all cozy and comfortable…I cleared my throat made sure I could still speak: apparently if you don’t use it you lose it so says the same people who swear your face will be stuck like that forever.)

Andrew Young my Back Issue Bloodbath co-host and I saw Seth Freakin Rollins, Roman Reigns, Alexa Bliss and a bunch of other names I don’t recall. Hobo Lantern? Think one was called Gold Digger. Celtic something with a wicked mohawk. Starbucks Barista.

As I didn’t know any of the heels or heroes I simply cheered for ruckus. Getting tossed outta the ring…unfair 2 on 1 rumbles: oh! anytime the ref’s back was turned and somebody took a cheap shot I cheered. I…wasn’t always in sync with the crowd.

In fact Fat Joe (not the rapper but the wrestler) had a big bloody cut above his eye…and the match had to be stopped. Some of the rules apparently are similar to Fight Club. I get and respect that.

In the end though, take heart true believer: all the heels lost because cheaters never prosper. S’an inspiring message for the kids and for 2018!

As you can clearly tell from this post this is not my world…still super fascinating to get a glimpse of this huge subculture. As long as there is ruckus (Rawkus?) I’d go back again. Good Times.

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