I learned everything that I need to know from pro wrestling

I didn't write this, but it's pretty funny and of course pretty true.

Yes, I am being so lazy as to use someone elses written work in my posts. I have no shame, and I'm proud of it.




All I Ever Needed to Know, I Learned From Pro Wrestling
by Rocky Swift
"Borrowed" from the Citizen Scholar

As kids, we all are blank slates, empty canvases, those big rocks that sculptors sculpt sculptures out of. Children soak up all the information around them, much like an object that absorbs a lot of water, say a pencil. As typical of my generation, I received most of my early instruction and attention from a beloved constant in my home, always there to hand out life lessons. And perhaps the greatest knowledge imparted to me from television came through the weekly schoolhouse of life known as professional wrestling. They seemed simple at the time, but those important truths revealed within the dramatic confines of the squared circle have proved invaluable through the years. I didn't realize it at the time, but professional wrestling was there not only to entertain, but also to teach. I'll never be able to repay pro wrestling or it's prophet, television, for all it's given to me, but I hope to pass on some of the basic, enduring tenets for living that I have been so fortunate to receive.

It is better to give than to receive

In the early 1990s Sting was the top dog in WCW putting him dead in the crosshairs of the most wicked men in the federation. Things came to a head on an episode of WCW Saturday night when Sting triumphed over another ham and egger, as Bobby Heenan would say, to see that a giant present had been wheeled to ringside. The viewers in the arena and at home figured it for some kind of trap for the fan favorite, but good-hearted Sting must have thought that his virtuous deeds in the ring were being rewarded by some generous fan. He approached the gift as if to unwrap it, and out jumped 300-pounder Abdullah the Butcher, who proceeded to beat the ever-loving shit out of Sting.

The scenario has been played out numerous times in the canon of pro wrestling. If someone is presented with a cake, most likely he will be mashed into it. If he is given a trophy, it will surely be cracked across his back. Awarded a championship belt, the recipient will most likely receive it across the back of his head. If the gift is a man-sized box with bow on it, chances are it contains an actual man who will proceed to jump out and beat up the person to whom the present was given.

I wish I'd known this lesson before I met the Jehovah's Witnesses. That lady and her friend came to my door and gave me the nicest smile I'd seen in a while. Then she handed me a sort of magazine made of newsprint with pictures of multicultural groups of people having picnics with all sorts of animals. I took the magazine, and before I knew it, she and her friend were in my house, where they stayed for hours. Eventually I just tried to ignore them and masturbate to some pornography, but they just closed their eyes and started praying in loud voices. Finally, I just threw a lamp at the lady's male companion, and they finally went away, but not before jettisoning scads of pamphlets and newsletters.

So the lesson here is to be wary of anyone trying to give you something, be it a dessert, bouquet of flowers, diploma, etc. Beat them to the punch and give them a major whallop before they can Pearl Harbor you. If you must receive something from someone else, quickly snatch it away, then run away.

Never give up

America faced off against a formidable enemy in 1990 when in the Middle Eastern country of Iraq tried to impose its imperialistic regime on a smaller neighbor. The US of A wasn't going to let that happen, and we selflessly stepped in to fight off tyranny and rescue the dream of democracy for Kuwait. About that time, another historic battle raged. The bullying attitude of Iraq found a disciple in Sergeant Slaughter, a life-long American patriot who'd decided that his homeland had become too weak. As Iraq savaged the peace-loving common folk of Kuwait, Slaughter and his newfound Iraqi cronies General Adnan and Colonel Mustafa -- who previously paraded as the Iranian Iron Sheik, but then showed his true colors -- unleashed their own jihad on the WWF and its Superstars. But the immortal Hulk Hogan wasn't going to stand for that crap. And though the Gulf War had already ended, and America's hatred towards Iraq waned, Hogan still sought to end the country's reign of terror by taking on Slaughter at Wrestlemania VII. In the match, Slaughter had a bloody Hogan looked into his cruel finisher, the Camel Clutch, no doubt taught to him by his desert friends. Hogan looked as though he was going to pass out from the maneuver that puts terrific pressure on the back and neck. But then, he had a surge of energy, his arms began to vibrate with the power of the fans. Hogan shrugged off Slaughter and carried on with the match showing no damage at all from being locked into the painful submission move for a long period of time.

You see, conventional wisdom would have you think that if you are beat upon, you will become progressively more injured and less and less able to fight. But wrestling teaches us otherwise. Even if you are locked into a crippling maneuver for several minutes, if you can hold off giving up and make it to the ropes, then your physical well-being will soon be at 100 percent, and perhaps even higher.

In life, this principle proves true. Back when I worked as a graveyard shift telephone operator, I was called into the boss's office one day. He said that they had recorded me cursing at the customers and that my supervisor saw me bring liquor on the job. I took the opportunity to ask for a raise. He was silent for a minute, then he told me I was "let go." Now I was tempted to acquiesce and walk out of his office with my head hanging. But in my mind, I pictured Hogan with his face bloodied locked into the Camel Clutch while General Adnan waved the Iraqi flag outside the ring.

"No. I'll keep on working," I told my boss. He told me I was "fired," not using the nicer "let go" phrase from before.

"No. I still work here," I said. He looked flustered and told me that if I didn't leave, he'd have security take me out. I sat there, and then he got up and left the room. While he was out, I pocketed his stapler and a set of keys.

The office actually didn't have security, but a couple other employees forced me out of the door, and there was a cop waiting in the parking lot, so I took off. But if I'd left right away when he told me to go, I never would have gotten that stapler and those keys. I never did find out what those keys went to.

Women are evil

I witnessed personally the wondrous event noted in the history books as SuperBrawl 1996. Its featured match up pitted the challenger "Nature Boy" Ric Flair versus champ Randy "Macho Man" Savage, accompanied by his wife, the lovely Elizabeth. The match was for the belt and was to take place inside the steel cage where the fury of male aggression can burn with the heat of a thousand suns without interference from women. But lo, a woman did interfere. It was Elizabeth who took off her high-heeled shoe --the truest symbol of feminine dangerosity-- and passed it into the ring to be used by one of the combatants: not her husband but his own mortal enemy Ric Flair Later she showed her true colors as she escorted the newly crowned champ Flair away from the ring as her husband lay bloody, helpless and defeated within the caged ring.

Though at the time I knew little of the nature of women, now I am quite experienced, and I can identify well with the Macho Man. One time, a girl told me that she was going to call me back. But she didn't! Another time, a girl told me that a certain problem I had was very natural and nothing of which to be ashamed. I later found out she had told everyone about it, and they were all laughing at me. Wrestling has taught us that no matter how close a woman is to us --even as far as making the eternal, unbreakable vows of marriage-- she is still a woman, and it is her nature to deceive and betray.

The wrestling example tells us that one must always be on guard around women. If you must associate with one, check her purse when she isn't looking to make sure she isn't concealing something very dense inside; a woman's favorite weapon is a loaded purse. If she is carrying a folding chair, make sure she unfolds it and sits in it before you turn away your watchful gaze. Be especially careful of women wearing high-heeled shoes. If you can, take away their shoes, or better yet, run away.

Fat people are dangerous

In the early 1990s, a wrestler named the Ultimate Warrior was setting the wrestling world on fire with his rock'n roll entrance bold personal philosophy. Most notable about the Warrior was his physique which seemed to transcend natural limitations for human strength and perfection. Another strongman active in the federation those days was the Canadian Dino Bravo. Bravo claimed to be the world's strongest man and once challenged the Warrior to a push-up contest. Well everyone this side of Christopher Reeve can do a push up, but this contest was different. Bravo picked out an exceptionally rotund man from the audience to come to the ring. Bravo had the big man --easily over 450 pounds-- sit on his back while he did numerous push ups. The Warrior, not to be outdone, accepted the challenge and went down on the mat as the fat man strode him. But then the fat man jumped into the air and crushed the Warrior beneath. It had all been a clever scheme between Bravo and the fat man, who later became known as Earthquake.

Wrestling is full of examples of dangerous fat people. They use their unnatural bulk to overcome and humiliate normal people like the Warrior. When you see someone that is extremely heavy, you know that there is more wrong with that person than just their 60-inch waist. There is a moral degeneracy at heart there, and it sometimes evolves into pure evil. I had my own run-in with a fat person once. He beat me up and threw me down a flight of stairs for no other instigation than my vomiting twice in his house and putting a hole in his wall.

So if you see a fat person around, be sure you don't let them sit on your back. And though the fat may be violent and corrupt, they are generally quite slow enabling the normal-sized human to run away without incident.

Beware of foreigners

It was no accident Lex Luger was nicknamed "The Total Package." Size. Strength. Endurance. Skill. He had it all. When he won his WrestleWar 1991 match against Dan Spivey to regain the U.S. Championship --WCW's second highest prize-- it was to be awarded by a great former U.S. Champ Nikita Koloff. Koloff had been out of action for a couple years, and though he left the ring as an honorable favorite among the fans, he had begun his career as a fearful rulebreaker known as the "Russian Nightmare." A tired but happy Luger approached the announcers desk to accept his newly won belt, and Koloff made a few words of congratulations to the new champ. Then as Luger and the home audience expected that Koloff would hand over the title and begin a fresh championship dynasty with Luger as its king, Koloff reared back an cracked Luger in the head. With that, Koloff announced his return to the ring and a new reign of terror for the Russian Nightmare. Except of course that his popularity and infamy had depended entirely on the emotional tea kettle of the Cold War, and that being ended, Koloff's potence in the pro wrestling ring quickly diminished.

What wrestling tells us here is that foreigners, even if they seem friendly and harmless, are just waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of us. Clearly all foreigners are dangerous, but in different ways. Let's look at the lessons wrestling teaches about these vicious outsiders:

Russians -- In the 1980s, most Russian pro wrestlers claimed to be here as emissaries from the Soviet Union sent here to show the superiority of their athletes, that their dominance of pro wrestling would be a precursor to their dominance of the whole world. Some credit Ronald Reagan and Star Wars for heading off the Red Menace. I know we should be thanking Dusty Rhodes and Magnum T.A.
Anyway, all Russians are incredibly strong as they are all raised by the government and put through rigorous training routines and drug therapies for their entire lives. Most of them are bald, as hair is a privilege given to only the highest ranked members of the Communist Party.
Formidable as they are, the Russians are basically robots and good 'ol American ingenuity and stick-to-it-tiveness can prevail against them.

Japanese -- Like everyone from Asia, all Japanese are masters of the mysterious martial arts. Though smaller than Russians and Americans, the Japanese are very tricky and have a high tolerance for pain. Though only a few have developed the talent, all Japanese have special glands in their throats that allow them to spray a blinding mist into the faces of their opponents.
The Japanese know only cruelty, and that's the only way to deal with them.

Samoans -- All Samoans are very fat and strong. They are total savages who seem to be able to communicate with each other, but are surely incapable of any kind of human language. Powerful and resilient though they are, Samoans are easily outsmarted. Attacks on the head of a Samoan have no effect, as they have no feeling at all there.

Finnish -- There is only one notable Finnish wrestler in memory, but he was certainly no friend of Uncle Sam. Much like the Russians in appearance, the Finns are more loquacious and environmentally minded.
History tells us the best way to beat the Finns wait until they injure themselves and then disappear of their own accord.

Canadians -- Perhaps the most dangerous of all foreigners, the Canadians' greatest weapon is that they blend in with normal Americans. They pretend to be our friends and then they turn on us when our guard is down.
It's difficult to tell the Canadians apart from Americans before it's too late, but here are a couple things to look for:
Canadians are frequently very attractive and have superb teeth.
Canadians tend to focus toward "scientific" wrestling, apparently not brave enough to engage in fisticuff-manship.
The best way to battle a Canadian is to beat them at their own devious game. Satisfy their overblown ego by convincing them that they will win the match. Then fix the fight. Take that Canucky bastards!

Cheat to win

Things looked bleak for Rick Rude. Though a skilled grappler with an excellent physique, he met his match in strength and skill when he met up with the WWF Intercontinental champ the Ultimate Warrior. The Warrior dominated the whole match, and his victory was assured. In an act of confidence, Warrior pressed Rude high over his head and motioned to throw the latter to the outside of the ring. But at the crucial moment, Rude's manager Bobby "The Brain" Heenan pulled on the Warrior's feet, tripping him and allowing Rude to fall on top for the cover. Heenan held fast to Warrior's feet, keeping him from snaring the safety of the ropes, while Rude pinned the Warrior for the 1, 2, 3 and captured the Intercontinental belt.

You see, the old adage "Cheaters never win" is clearly a fallacy. As demonstrated so clearly by pro wrestling, cheaters usually win, especially in confrontations with non-cheaters. This proves true in everyday life. For example, to graduate from my college, everyone had to write a very large paper called a "Thesis." The "Thesis" was supposed to be an original utilization of knowledge and skills acquired in the student's field of study. That was a problem for me, however, as I drank constantly during college and didn't learn anything. But I still wanted to graduate, so I started writing my "Thesis." Unfortunately, my idea was very weak, and there was almost no evidence to back up my half-assed conjectures. So I just made up a bunch of references, and I quoted them liberally. I knew that the professors who would be reading my "Thesis" would have at least a dozen more 100-page "Thesiseses" to read, and would therefore have not opportunity to check my references. Also, I banked on the newly popular "Internet" to create numerous personalities whose online research I would cite many times.

"I tried looking up this site, but I got nothing," an inquisitive professor might say.

"Oh, sorry. The link must be broken. Try again later," would come my practiced response. As a result, my "Thesis" passed with flying colors, and I got my diploma (you can be sure I snatched it quickly and ran off the stage) while many of my smarter and more studious peers fell by the wayside.

We have much to learn

Life presents us with difficult choices. There are many philosophies, religions, laws and dogmas all competing to tell us how we should live our lives. If we were to read and study all those various ways of life, we'd spend our whole life in some boring library. Also, we'd just end up with a bunch of conflicting stuff inside our head. In fact, these efforts are unnecessary. The simplest lessons are the most true. And nothing is simpler than pro wrestling. So rather than thinking "What would Jesus do?" think, "What would Ric Flair do?" Instead of pondering, "What would Immanuel Kant say about this situation?" ask yourself, "What object in this room would make the best weapon in a fight?"

The wrestling ring is a microcosm of life. There are surprise victories, frustrating defeats, outrageous costumes and midgets under mind control. We can stumble along in life or we can act on the crucial lessons given to us by pro wrestlers. Can we all act with sagacity the likes of Norman the Lunatic, Bruiser Brody, Giant Kamala or Hacksaw Jim Duggan. No, of course not. But we can try. We can try.