I *try* to take the high road

Hi. My name's Eric.

And I'm a wrestling fan.

(Hi Eric.)

I started watching WWWF wrestling in 1979 when we moved to the city and had illegal cable in the apartment complex. Back then, Vince McMahon, Sr., owner of the World Wide Wrestling Federation ran Sunday events from Madison Square Garden on the MSG Network's forerunner, and the then fledgling USA Network had some shows as well like on Tuesday or Wednesday nights.

And as the eighties rolled around, Vince McMahon, Jr., bought out the old man, changed the name to the World Wrestling Federation, and started a series of syndicated shows that featured the big names demolishing nobodies in squash matches.

Every so often you'd get a title match, and if you were really, really, really lucky, they'd show footage of a title change that happened in some city, some night, in the not-too-distant past.

This was before the Interwebnet.

This was before the Pay-Per-View revolution

This was a long fucking time ago. When puppies were the oldest animals.

When I had hair.

That was blond.

And eyes that were blue.

And a tan.

But let's fast-forward to today. Satellite television rules the world. You can, with the proper subscription or pirated Bell South connection (which I have neither, thank you) watch anything, from anywhere.


In fact, a whole cottage industry has spawned with Sports Bars being able to show events from out of town that you can't see because you either can't get on television, or get tickets to the show.

And I've spent many nights at Damon's eating ribs, drinking beer, and watching two guys beat the hell out of each other (in theory) following Vince McMahon's script; or, in the case of boxing Don King's script; or literally beating the hell out of each other in Ultimate Fighting or Pride Fighting.

That, however, has ended.

Damon's ... or at least the one at NorthGate, no longer shows wrestling or boxing pay per views, because, in the words of the manager, "Damon's is a family-focused restaurant and those events are too violent."

Allow me to paraphrase the lovely and talented kara who said, "Oh, and football is ballet?"

So I tried to take the high road, and drive five miles out of my way to sit in a clubhouse and drink beer and watch guys beat each other up.

And it failed.

Now I'm resolved to drinking more beer, and staring at large-breasted women.

Because I have to go to Hooters to see those events.

And I'll be honest with you ... if you think people go there for the food, you're wrong.

The food sucks.

But since it's close to me - like walking distance close - I could sit there, get all boozed up and stare at breasts all night under the guise of watching pay-per-view's.

And stumble home.

Past Dockside Dolls.

Then again, the pay-per-view at Dockside Dolls is probably more entertaining.

(See, I tried to take the high road and avoid the Hooters or Strip Clubs. But I have no other options. So I must lower myself to the level of one of those two establishments for my entertainment.

Yep, that's my excuse for hanging out in strip clubs. You can use that. I take no responsibility for any beatings you may incur from your chosen partner)

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