The Work Of Wrestling

Professional wrestling is an art. The Work of Wrestling podcast is dedicated to exploring that simple truth. Produced & hosted by Tim Kail.

WOW - EP432 - The Final Straw 12/22/2025

I Will Not Talk About Backstage Segments For One Year 12/16/2025

I Will Not Talk About Backstage Segments For One Year I've talked about my hatred of backstage segments for twenty years (ten of those on my podcast). They look terrible, they elicit terrible performances, and they are conceptually dubious. Over the past decade I've attempted myriad ways to dissect them and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt they're an antiquated, character-killing device that does nothing but get wrestlers "under". I've talked and written so much about them that it's become something of an inside joke with my listeners (that and Seth Rollins' pants). At this point, my listeners know I despise back stage segments, they know exactly why, and any new listeners will eventually get around to hearing me lament their existence. And that's why I'm going to try something new in 2026. I am not going to talk or write about backstage segments at all, for one year. My reason for doing this is threefold 1) as I already outlined, my listeners don't need to hear me describe why I hate them for the thousandth time 2) just thinking about them makes me angry 3) it will be a challenge to ignore them, a new gimmick for me to figure out in 2026. As is often the case, whenever RAW does anything slightly different my interest gets piqued and I think, "Maybe they're finally changing." That was my reaction to Gunther's awesome opening segment on last night's RAW. After saying he made John Cena "tap like a little bitch" he strode into the backstage and the camera followed him. He stopped to talk with a few wrestlers and Adam Pearce before driving away into the night. It was great, exactly the sort of little tweak to the blocking and filming of such segments that I've been looking for. More of that, please, WWE! Coming out of everything that happened in John Cena's last match, I think fans are missing a subtle yet significant shift in the overall perspective of WWE. Michael Cole was quick to say (in a clearly prepared line) after Cena tapped, "Professional wrestling just destroyed Sports Entertainment". Can you imagine such a phase being uttered ten years ago? Absolutely not. I've been critical of Paul Lavesque's booking this past year, but this incremental shift away from Sports Entertainment toward professional wrestling is masterful. The phrase "professional wrestling" was used consistently on RAW in stark contrast to the past twenty years. It's as if the on-screen death of John Cena's entire gimmick has nudged the company into a new era where the fundamental concept of Sports Entertainment is being done away with. One subtle way to visually signify this shift is in the camera following Gunther to the back; a new era needs to look and behave differently or else it means nothing. We'll see if Paul Lavesque continues this to the point where it becomes a trend. It takes commitment, though. Furthermore, it takes commitment to something most wrestling fans don't give a shit about. There are times it feels like I'm the only critic and fan beating the drum of improved camerawork. For it to happen, Lavesque has to want it too, simply for its own sake, because he believes better camerawork signifies a better program. I'd argue that improved camerawork and more realistic backstage segments would gradually work on viewers, though, giving the overall experience of weekly WWE TV a more respectable, prestige vibe in alignment with the company's goals. I don't hold out much hope, as there were still traditional backstage segments on last night's episode of RAW. But I perceive a philosophical shift in the company that deserves to be celebrated. A renewed perspective on the future of the company, injecting new life into the proceedings, the ideals of pro-wrestling as a physical contest, a place where good and evil battle for supremacy. Even if backstage segments don't disappear entirely, it would be nice to see WWE integrate new camerawork and peaks behind the curtain in the style of WWE Unreal on its weekly broadcasts. Regardless, this is the last time, for one full year, that I'm going to write or talk about backstage segments. Doing so will make me a happier, healthier person and, hopefully, a better art critic. Given that this is the last time for a full calendar year, permit me to outline, once again, why they need to go: Conceptually, backstage segments represent a paradox. The subjects in backstage segments perform as if the cameras are not there. This raises the following question: if the cameras aren't there, how are we, the audience, seeing it? This very simple question reveals the conceptual house of cards that is backstage segments. Merely poking the concept sends it fluttering into a mess of debris. There is no narrative, ideological foundation for backstage segments. The wrestlers should either act knowing the cameras are there or the way the segments are filmed should be different (i.e. the camera crew would function like a documentary crew filming characters with their foreknowledge of their presence). No one gives a good performance in backstage segments in the scripted era. The blocking is awkward (wrestlers filling the scene from off camera, the camera moving backward to accommodate everyone in the shot), stuffed with characters in a bland, waist-high shot as wrestlers strain to get out their scripted lines of dialogue. It's nearly impossible to make such scenes feel authentic. They watch like bad SNL skits or scenes in pornographic films that take place pre-coitus. Visually, they're junk, doused in red or blue lights, taking place in nondescript offices, impromptu walls covered in adverts, the viewer's eye given no place to settle. They worked in 1999 with a less sophisticated television viewer and when wrestlers weren't shackled to their scripts. In 2025 they are conceptually and visually at odds with the rest of WWE's production, a largely sleek, modern-looking sporting event. And I must mention all of this also applies to AEW. For reasons I cannot fathom they produce backstage segments in the exact same way as WWE and it kills me. It will take time to indoctrinate WWE fans to a new style of backstage segment, a form of storytelling I'd rather label "The Backstage World". It may take even more time for WWE's directors, writers, producers, and camera people to adapt to a new style. But I think that work is entirely worth it. Consider a conceptually and visually consistent WWE that does not fluctuate wildly in quality from one scene to the next, the sort of television show you're not embarrassed to watch. I long for that version of WWE. I'm at peace with the fact that I may never get it. At the very least, I've said and written my peice for the past decade. It's time for me to hang up this constructive criticism and move on to something new. /episode/index/show/wowpod/id/39427285

WOW - EP431 - Farewell John Cena w/Al Monelli 12/15/2025

WOW - EP430 - 2025 12/12/2025

WOW - EP429 - "This company died yesterday..." 12/08/2025

To Buy-In Or Not To Buy-In, That Is The Question 12/05/2025

To Buy-In Or Not To Buy-In, That Is The Question For months I've been making the argument that people should stop watching WWE and definitely stop paying for their over-priced PLEs (if they find the product unsatisfactory). $30/month for ESPN Unlimited remains a prickly price point for me - I just can't justify it. That said, I came very close to taking the plunge this past weekend about an hour before Survivor Series: War Games. I held steady though, and I'm glad I did because it doesn't seem like I missed anything too spectacular. For the first time in months, though, I don't think I'll be able to abstain from The Royal Rumble and WrestleMania. On the one hand, voting with my dollar is an entirely viable option. On the other, depriving myself of two significant events in wrestling, just to prove a point, doesn't sit well with me either. If I'm frank with myself, my heart isn't in the point being proven. My heart is in analyzing professional wrestling as an art and I think dealing with unchecked capitlism is just a part of that process in 2025. To put things in even simpler (and more specific) terms, I want to be able to talk to my friend, Al, about The Royal Rumble and WrestleMania. And based on the response of my listeners, they want us to talk about these events too. Those two facts have me wondering what's best for myself and for my podcast. If I do take the plunge I'd only do it for those two shows and then cancel the membership. Perhaps that proves the point just enough, that this structure doesn't work if they want sustained subscribers. Or maybe WWE and ESPN are perfectly happy to get $60/year from a few fair weather fans. In the shadow of Netflix's looming purchase of Warner Bros., my friend Cisco and I had a conversation over text about how planet Earth is just one big corporation. The consumer might have more choices in terms of the content they consume, but they have far less agency as these massive organizations merge. By agency, I mean a willingness (or ability) to not subscribe, a comfort with picking and choosing, being shrewd. With all of these streaming platforms starting to cross pollinate, regardless of whether or not the consumer asked for it, there's less incentive for the consumer to take any kind of action at all (for or against the process). It's all just happening to us and we're either too disinterested to care or too lazy to unsubscribe. Subscribing to Peacock means also subscribing to Apple TV. Subscribing to Hulu means also subscribing to Disney. Subscribing to Netflix means also subscribing to HBO. And on and on it goes until one day these services are just going to become one great big pile of entertainment feed that we all mindlessly consume. I think the answer has to be exercising one's individuality, however they can. Becoming shrewd in the face of overwhelming capitalism. Doing the annoying thing of unsubscribing to these services after you get what you actually want. But maybe I'm just rationalizing? Am I? Am I just trying to find a way to justify breaking a promise, or is it okay for me to buy The Royal Rumble and WrestleMania? Am I a part of the problem? Part of the problem of not subscribing to any of these services is that you miss out on culture. For better and worse, streamers contain modern culture, particularly as it relates to prestige TV. Good TV show after good TV show is being pumped out on a regular basis from all of these artists, or rediscovered through these streamers. Ignoring that because you don't like the business model, or you don't like what the culture has become, may make you less capable of critiquing it accurately. If I elect to not watch The Royal Rumble, for example, I'll be out of touch with my listeners who have seen it. I won't be able to connect with them about it. I value that connection immensely. So much so that forsaking it in an attempt to "stick it to the man" feels disingenuous. If, for example, I reviewed a past Rumble and past WrestleMania in place of the current ones, then I'm electing to take The Work Of Wrestling podcast completely out of the conversation, transforming my niche within a niche into a niche within a niche within yet another niche. I'm not sure that's good for anybody - me and listener alike. Also, how will I know if ESPN Unlimited is or isn't worth subscribing to if I don't actually try it out first? The only way to really know is by watching The Rumble and Mania to see if both WWE and ESPN are putting actual effort into its two biggest PLEs. I don't know the answer, but I think I'm talking myself into subscribing just for January and April of 2026. Maybe the answer is as simple as that. All of this makes me lament the end of the WWE Network, though, something I never thought I would've said back when it launched in 2014. We're being squeezed from all directions, and it's all starting to feel less fun, less like we have a choice, and more like we have to bow down before our corporate overlords. There must be some way to resist that process, even in a small way. /episode/index/show/wowpod/id/39303575

WOW - EP428 - Time: Part II 12/01/2025

WOW - EP427 - AEW Full Gear Review (2025) 11/24/2025

WOW - EP426 - This Too Shall Pass 11/17/2025

Enlightenment In I Am Santa Claus 11/15/2025

Enlightenment In I Am Santa Claus "Helping children be better is relatively easy. Fixing broken adults is a lot harder." With these words, Rob Figley, the "Swinging Santa", gets at the heart of what is all about. The film chronicles the year of five men who perform the beloved mythological holiday hero, Santa Claus, during the Christmas season. Their lives revolve around this eagerly anticipated time of year, those precious two months essential to their financial and emotional livelihoods. With honesty and respect (and a great sense of endearing humor), director doesn't simply give viewers a glimpse behind the proverbial curtain, he gently holds the curtain open for you, and invites you into a fascinating Santa Claus-themed world populated by fascinating individuals. Viewers unfamiliar with the the lifestyle of Santa Ambassadors will discover a surprisingly intricate, secretive brotherhood dedicated to one of our most beloved holidays. Not only will viewers walk away from the film with a deeper understanding of the practicalities of life as a Santa (these men spend their days like anyone else; they look for work, they try to pay bills, they have long-distance relationships, they support their families, they meet at conventions, and they struggle to get contracts from agents), they will walk away with a deeper understanding of humanity, and why the legend is such a universally beloved, inspirational idol. The film opens with children describing their understanding of Santa Claus, and then the rest of the film slowly deconstructs that understanding so as to ultimately rebuild it. One of the primary reasons the film is so effective (and genuinely touching) is that it practices what it espouses by not passing judgment on these men, even some of the more "controversial" Santa Claus performers. The film also doesn't pass judgment on those viewers who might be resolutely against a homosexual man performing the Santa Claus character. Instead, like a truly excellent documentary should, and in keeping with the fundamental purpose of the film and Christmas itself, gives a voice to everyone. If the film is making an argument for any particular stance, it’s arguing for an open mind and an open heart. (a delightfully craggy man whose relatable financial woes melt away when he discusses what Santa represents), gives voice to an inevitable sect of the audience by taking issue with the idea of a gay Santa or a swinging Santa. He's open-minded enough to listen to the other side (or tries to be) but obviously struggles with the notion. Watching his internal conflict, his attempt to reconcile his discomfort or uncertainty with the knowledge that Santa represents universal love and universal peace is one of the film's most interesting scenes. How can one believe that Santa Claus is for everyone while also thinking he shouldn't be played by a gay man? There's a fundamental hypocrisy in this thought-process that could lead to an awakening in an individual if examined honestly. Russell's conflict is one that many viewers will likely have. Even the most liberal-minded person might struggle to accept the idea that a Santa Claus performer frequents a sex club with his wife or that a Santa Claus performer takes photographs of himself for the And this is where the effectiveness of the editing helps craft a compelling argument for keeping an open mind. Rob Figley, the "swinging Santa" and a source of controversy within the Santa community itself, walks viewers through his "sex club", humorously pointing out that there's "no nudity at the buffet" and that he prefers to call "the orgy bar" the "group observation bar". As someone who considers himself incredibly open-minded and egalitarian, even I was somewhat befuddled by this revelation. It is, at the very least, hard to process the idea that a man who plays Santa also enjoys watching live, group sex. The two concepts could not be further removed from one another (and the film inevitably convinces you that the sexual lives of these men have no bearing on their ability to accurately portray Santa or inspire children). Following this peak into Rob’s sex-life, the film intelligently shows Rob open up about how he was inspired to help others after seeing his brother struggle with a sexual-identity crisis before dying of aids. We see that Rob, and all of these Santas, are more than just a sexual preference or a proclivity that is typically regarded as odd or not socially acceptable. We see these men are motivated by something truly benevolent. We see ourselves in these men. This is an inescapable truth of the world in which we live, and it’s a truth that frightens many people who aren’t fortunate enough to realize their commonality in all beings. Few documentaries so excellently embody the universal nature of existence, and I Am Santa Claus does so in a subtle, skillful fashion, commenting on the very nature of life on this planet by simply and honestly examining the lives of men who dress up like Santa. Even the title itself embodies the enlightened soul, the simple, but powerful proclamation "I am" and "I know what I am." Viewers will also have to say the title of the film when they discuss it. "I am Santa Claus". In this way, they too become Santa, the universal spirit of peace and love. “Everyone’s got a personal life,” says , who had his name legally changed to Santa Claus. Frank’s introduction is a lighthearted highlight that exemplifies the blend of absurdity and purity inherent in the Santa-world. He waltzes into the DMV to get his name changed to “Santa Claus” on his license, joking around with other patrons. It’s remarkable to see the way typically standoffish Long Island strangers react to a man who looks like Santa. People let their guard down. They know intuitively the person they’re talking to is a performer, but they can’t help but allow their inner, emotional child to inform their reaction. People soften. They become warmer, better people at the mere sight of Santa. Frank/Santa explains in his first talking head segment, “I’ve come to learn that my Santa Claus personae is nicer than Frank. He doesn’t argue as much, he doesn’t get aggravated as much as Frank did. And I think in the beginning, I wanted to hold on to the Frank character to be able to blow off steam. But I don’t want to blow off steam. I want to just be the person that I want to be.” Self-actualization is an essential component in the film. These men, who represent the aforementioned “broken adults” find salvation, and ultimately their most honest self, by becoming someone else. This is the story of any performer or artist who needs to transform themselves or inhabit the skin of a different character so as to access, in a way that is almost inexplicable and wonderfully ironic, who they really are as a human being. This process is most clearly represented in “The Santa Rookie”, and the producer of the film, . Juxtopostion of tone and emotion is used to great effect through the film, but nowhere bettan than the introduction of Mick Foley. It's an inspired editing flourish that will bring a smile to viewer's faces, particularly fans of professional wrestling. “I think anyone could be Santa if they have Christmas in their heart,” says Santa Bob. This is followed by the screeching roar of Mick Foley's entrance music, images of Mankind (one of Mick's alter egos) tumbling off the Hell in a Cell, Cactus Jack dropping his elbow to Sting, blood and barbed wire ring-action, and then, finally, a peaceful, gentle Mick Foley sitting on his couch in his quiet Long Island home. Pro-wrestling fans will likely be surprised by the parallels between professional wrestling and Santa Claus performance. Mick goes in search of a wise Santa-sage named Santa Dana Caplan to learn more about the art of Santa performance, and he ends up at a small, Christmas-light-adorned house on Santa Lane in Grayscale, Illinois. The glee in Mick’s eyes as he speaks to Santa Caplan is infectious. He listens so intently, and with such energy that one sees why he’s been such a successful creative force in his life. The near-desperation with which Mick asks to try on some of Santa’s special cologne is the desperation of an inspired artist, a childlike need to bring imagination into reality. As I listened to Santa Dana, I was immediately reminded of the incredibly specific pro-wrestling lessons Stone Cold Steve Austin offers on his . “Trim your nose hairs, because the kids are looking up at your nose, you know?” says Santa Dana. “Don’t let a kid straddle your legs…don’t eat anything that gives you gas…don’t wear any overpowering colognes, I always wanted to smell like a chocolate chip cookie.” These lessons reveal the intricacy of a craft most people take for granted or never even consider. These Santas go to great lengths to sell you the fiction of Santa Claus, just as a pro-wrestler or painter or poet or filmmaker attempts to sell you on a different, but comparable emotional and mental state of being. “Can you tell a fantasy and look like you’re telling the truth…the whole thing is believability,” Santa Dana explains, who greeted Mick by referring to him as "Michael Francis Foley". That's the kind of creative choice only a seasoned veteran would make. By referring to Mick as "Michael Francis Foley", Santa Dana asserts himself as a parental figure. Not unlike a crafty psychic, Dana is searching for tells, and he relies on a suite of psychological tools that move his audience into a place of absolute conviction. Names are also incredibly important to Santa; he has a list that he checks twice to ensure who's naughty or nice, after all. "Michael Francis Foley" was the name he'd been looking at for all those years while Mick grew up. “How much does that sound like what we do,” Mick says to fellow wrestling legend Roddy Piper. "Suspending disbelief to where you are capable of doing things that you could never do.” In revealing the specific similarities between pro-wrestling performance and Santa performance, I Am Santa Claus demonstrates the inevitable unifying principle of all artistic mediums or forms of performance (once again, in keeping with the theme of universality). “They hurt themselves for the craft,” one man says to Mick, when Mick’s considering bleaching his hair. When Mick finally does bleach his hair and put on his custom-made Santa suit, the film ascends to a place of transcendent joy and beauty. His transformation (beautifully scored with a choral version of ) is remarkable, the camera eventually settling on his Santa-made-over face. “Ohhh, ho, ho, ho,” he chuckles in a jolly baritone. In this moment, you believe Santa Claus is real. And you believe it because, very simply, Santa is real. He represents an intangible truth within the human soul. Our need to take that intangible truth and give it shape in the form of Santa, or any of our beloved fictional characters, is one of our greatest, most benevolent human traditions. And you believe in Santa even more because you watched the painful bleaching, shaving, cutting, and grooming process. It is an earned transformation, a testament to the resonant nature of the character, but also the performers who must “hurt themselves for the craft”. Mick’s reverence for Santa and the Christmas season pervades his story, as well as a soft, but pointed sense of irony and humor. “What does Santa do with his hands when he greets people?” he asks, both in amusing, but genuine fashion while he sits in the chair for the first time before he meets children. Pro-wrestling fans will find it especially rewarding to see Mick joyfully accept the humbling role of Santa rookie, eager to be the best he can possibly be. Mick’s story culminates in one of the film’s most touching scenes, where he arranges for Santa Frank to appear at his home on Christmas Eve and surprise his children. So as not to spoil the scene for you, I will simply write that Mick’s final words in the film will make even the most hard-hearted individual tear up. A lesser documentarian and a lesser performer would have focused entirely on Mick Foley’s journey considering Mick’s legendary celebrity status and producer credit. But Mick and Avallone graciously and intelligently share the film equally among the Santas so that you become invested in everyone’s story. It’s less a documentary about Christmas, or even a particular mythological character, and more a film about the lengths to which human beings will go so as to embrace their most honest self, and simultaneously connect with other human beings. Such is a valuable examination, and a process everyone should experience. The film proves that the enlightenment of the individual self can lead to the enlightenment, and betterment, of larger communities. Each of us aspires to become exactly who we are supposed to be, and to be accepted for who we are. That search can take us to some strange, unexpected, and even frightening places. And sometimes it means putting on a big red suit and making others smile. Thank you for reading. Merry Christmas to all…and to all a good night. /episode/index/show/wowpod/id/39046065

How To Treat The Ruthless Depression Era 11/11/2025

How To Treat The Ruthless Depression Era WWE is creatively stagnant. A lack of interesting characters, a non-existant mid-card, prescriptive weekly television, increasing ticket prices, and more frequent Saudi-shows has inspired many fans to dub this the "Ruthless Depression" era. While meant partially as a joke, the popularity of the phrase/meme is indicative of where WWE is at today. Every Monday begins with the same twenty minute promo. Every episode features poorly filmed and poorly acted backstage segments. The mid-card is a cast of feckless buffoons who battle one another in a sprint toward the bottom. Yes, CM Punk is the World Champion. Yes, John Cena is on his farewell tour. Yes, Dominic Mysterio is hilarious. And yes, women feature better representation than they did twenty years ago. But none of it seems to matter. Why? Because the creative apparatus is fundamentally broken. Professional wrestling wants to be an improvised art, and yet WWE insists on scripting its characters out of a personality. Not a single word comes from the heart. Criticizing all of this, even playfully, will get fans nowhere fast, though. We need our agency back. If we want to affect change we have to offer WWE well-considered, respectful alternatives. If this is a depression (and it certainly feels like one) how are we going to get ourselves out of it? Let's treat WWE (and its fans) like a patient in need of help and offer up actionable solutions so that it might thrive. AN END OF TWENTY MINUTE PROMO TRAINS I believe the opening twenty minute promo is killing WWE. It saps the in-attendance audience of their energy and excitement, inspiring them to sit on their hands in a cold, predictable process. One wrestler comes out to talk about how great they are. Another wrestlers interrupts them. Perhaps someone else interrupts that wrestler. It all ends in fisticuffs or a main event match being booked (impromptu). Rinse. Repeat. Every week. No change. Nothing different. Nothing exciting. Even CM Punk and Paul Heyman can't make this good. I suggest WWE try starting one show (just one) in a different way. Begin with a match already in progress. Begin with a vignette. Begin with a backstage interview (though more on that later). Begin with basically anything else. Then, after that one week experiment, check the temperature of the room. Did doing something different shut down the entire machine? Was it that much harder to produce? Did fans respond positively to the change or did they not even seem to notice? Allow that reaction to inform what you do going forward. If, as I predict, the reception is positive, do something different the following week. Develop, over time, a new default opening to the show that is more engaging, entertaining, and creative. I recommend WWE's default opening should be nothing more than a wrestling match, making adjustments as needed week after week. But, rather than the slog of a promo, the action of a match is the company's go-to beginning. How would the audience learn about the rest of the night's matches or events? Simple. Something a little old-fashioned that WWE used to do all the time (that AEW does now). Have commentary announce the entire card at the start of the show while there are lulls in the opening match. Yes, this represents a fundamental philosophical change in the way these shows are booked. Laying out the entire card at the start, reaffirming the reality that Monday Night Raw and SmackDown are fully booked by the time they go to air, will mean an end to the "impromptu match". Impromptu matches worked when an evil overlord (Vince McMahon) used them to catch his rivals off guard. They are an outdated narrative mechanism. WWE presents a sleak, organized company and that should be reflected in the show itself. Impromtu matches don't even get pops because the audience is so thoroughly numbed by the preceeding twenty minutes of talking. Jettison all of it. Shake things up and do something different if for no other reason than to do so. Do this, and you will be rewarded with positive word of mouth, unburdened by memes like Ruthless Depression. A RETURN OF SHORT, UNSCRIPTED PROMOS I don't know what a single character in WWE actually wants. Sure, CM Punk recently reiterated he's here to "make money" (and added "to win titles" in a bit of revitionist history), but that's not exactly a crowd-electrifying ethos. What does he desire? Who does he dislike? What is a wrong that needs to be righted? I know even less about the desires of WWE's ensemble cast, a collection of action figures who sometimes go smash in the ring and sometimes recite dialogue in the backstage. No one is motivated by anything. They all exist in this banal, backstage existence, all lacking agency, and all completely inept. Let's hear what they actually want to accomplish for a change! How do you do that? Bring back the short, unscripted promo. Or, put another way, a "talking points" promo where the wrestler creatively touches on a few key points they want to make all while imbuing the performance with their unique personality and take on events. These promos could be recorded before the event goes live and inserted throughout key points in the broadcast. Will this be a challenge for some wrestlers? Of course, especially because over the past twenty years WWE has effectively phased out this style of promo. Bringing it back will mean reconditioning the performer, and the audience. But I dare anyone to suggest this wouldn't bring life back to the show. Rather than a cast of neautered idiots, WWE's halls would be pregnant with wrestlers motivated by something (anything), and the results would be overwhelmingly positive. Take, for example, Rhea Ripley, the most "over" woman and, arguably, the most "over" performer in the company today. She looks super cool, and is great in the ring, but the moment she attempts to recite her memorized lines her mystique takes a dent. These scripted backstage segments are killing performers, making it impossible for them to genuinely "get over" with the audience. Giving them controlled yet creatively liberated space to succeed or fail on their own merits, in their own voices, will go a long way in curing this depression. ADD A ONE-TIME PURCHASE OPTION FOR PLEs Between Peacock, Netflix, and ESPN Unlimited, the working class wrestling fan has been priced out of their fandom. This will continue to have a negative impact on the audience and, by extension, the perception of WWE. We get it. WWE and TKO are all about making money. The problem is they're assuming their value is greater than it is. I refuse to subscribe to ESPN Unlimited because I have no interest in any of its non-WWE content and, very simply, I can't afford $30/month for a streaming service I'll barely use. And even if I did, I'd only subscribe for one month to see The Royal Rumble or WrestleMania, and then I'd cancel it. I'd wager I'm hardly alone. Is that really the business model TKO and WWE want to create? Wouldn't it be better to establish some goodwill with the wrestling fan? That's why I suggest WWE offer it's PLEs through ESPN Unlimited as one-time purchases, essentially reverting back to the pay-per-view model. This would be an option in addition to subscribing to ESPN. Rather than regarding this as a fundamental change to the subscriber-model, think of it as yet another way to get money - money that may not come any other way because, as I've written, many fans just can't afford thirty dollars a month. Few things are as depressing has not having money in this cuthroat capitalist world. Easing that burden on the fan and giving them more options would be doing right by them. WATCH OTHER WRESTLING Watching WWE is a hard habit to break. It took years of increasing frustration with the company and encouragement from my listeners for me to venture out and start watching promotions like New Japan and Insane Championship Wrestling. Other wrestling has never been more accessible. If you're frustrated with WWE, why not turn on an episode of Dynamite and see if it strikes your fancy? Set aside the toxic discourse and watch it for the stellar wrestling. If you watch it with an open mind and an open heart, I bet you'll find something to like. While there are a lot of similarities between the companies, AEW actually has a midcard populated by fascinating, three-dimensional characters. It's clear what everyone wants and what they're fighting for. And some of its wrestlers are genuinely funny - not just "wrestling funny". Nothing like sincere humor to elevate the soul, even momentarily, out of a depression. STOP WATCHING, STOP PAYING And, finally, this treatment goes out directly to WWE-fans. If you're dissatisfied with the company's creative, cultural, or financial direction simply stop supporting it. Don't buy those tee-shirts, toys, tickets, or networks. Instead, disengage and allow your silence to be deafening. The only way WWE will change is if they see how unsustainable their creative moves have been. If tickets aren't selling, if merch isn't moving, and if no one is subscribing, they'll get the message. Rather than continuing to hate-watch something that makes you depressed, watch other television and movies that fulfill you. Stop listening to toxic podcasts, stop posting on social media. Instead, rediscover what it means to be a fan and genuinely love something that rewards your emotional investment. There are myriad other ways large and small to get us out of The Ruthless Depression Era, but these five simple approaches to storytelling and fan-engagement will start us on the right path. I can't emphasize enough how much you don't need to watch WWE, despite how not watching feels like it would violate your constitution in some way. That's just the company's capitlistic hooks in your brain, manipulating you into thinking they're the only game in town. They're not. If what we really want is just good professional wrestling, we don't need to look very hard. It's all around us, from the gymnasiums of the indie scene to the stadiums of the mainstream. It's my hope that this message sinks in, and WWE recognizes that a creative shake-up is not only beneficial for its longterm health (both creatively and financially) but necessary. /episode/index/show/wowpod/id/38996870

WOW - EP425 - Bonus Q&A 11/10/2025

WOW - EP424 - Wiseman's Question 11/10/2025

WOW - EP423 - A Conversation 11/03/2025

WOW - EP422 - Survey Results! 10/27/2025

The Architects of the Attitude Era 10/23/2025

The Architects of the Attitude Era The Attitude Era wasn't great because it was raunchy, sleazy, blood-soaked, extreme, and testosterone-fueled. In fact, all those segments, matches, and angles from The Attitude Era that weren't good were the ones that could be easily reduced to a set of trendy adjectives. The assertion many modern professional wrestling fans make is that The Attitude Era was "so much better" than today's TV-PG Era, without offering a worthwhile explanation as to why. This noisy group of armchair critics likes to cite "better promos", "getting color", "more interesting characters", "cooler stables", and "better angles" as adequate precedent. Working alongside that lack of an explanation is the unavoidably revisionist history that comes with nostalgia. Moments of time that were distinct, perhaps entirely unrelated, get lumped together and cataloged as the same event; Shawn Michaels chopping his crotch, Triple H sitting on a cannon, Chyna giving low blows, The Rock raising an eyebrow, Steve Austin stunning Vince McMahon, and Mick Foley falling off a cell. Newer wrestling fans must rely upon increasingly vague, second-hand interpretations of what made these moments great. Greatness without context (or greatness with revised context) does a disservice to greatness. Greatness deserves reverence through specificity, not broad generalizations about how something was "life-changing" or “era-defining". The art of professional wrestling deserves better than empty compliments and statements like, "The Attitude Era was so much better than today". To allow The Attitude Era to transform entirely into a destructive shadow from which no one escapes is to invalidate the excellence and the sacrifices of , , , , , , and even (as well as those wrestlers currently striving for their own greatness in a variety of ). No Attitude Era montage and no gushing Attitude Era fan can do justice to the excellence of Monday Night Raw in 1997 & 1998. It's necessary to go back in time and watch these segments, matches, and promos firsthand, in their entirety, to comprehend why they represent more than "WWE's Greatest Hits”. A TV-14 rating is not magic. It doesn't make the content of a two hour wrestling show inherently better than the content of one rated TV-PG. The Moment of Pop is magic, however, and the architects of The Attitude Era (the wrestlers, the bookers, the camera-people, the editors, the commentary, and many more) were all obviously dead-set on moving audiences to incredibly intense Moments of Pop through good storytelling. One such Moment takes place at the in a match between Stone Cold Steve Austin and Dude Love. Late in the match, after having been busted open and beaten with a chair, Stone Cold is forced down into the mat and straddled by Dude. Steve's neck is pulled back, and blood pours down his face as McMahon (the dirty referee) screams "Give up! Give up, damnit!" Despite the insurmountable odds, despite the intensity of the pain, despite the corrupt system (embodied in Vince McMahon), Steve Austin refuses to give up. He bridges, roaring and pushing out from under Dude. As Austin rises, wounded but determined to pay the pain forward, an engaged viewer experiences an indescribable euphoria. Austin's will becomes the viewer's will. Austin's tenacity, blood, sacrifice, and vengeance becomes the viewer's. If Austin is able to climb out of this hell and raise his arm in victory, then you can too. So you cheer. You scratch and you claw along with Austin. You lean forward in your seat and you scream at Vince McMahon and you fervently cry out in ecstasy when Austin finally hits a Stone Cold Stunner. And everyone involved in the construction of this scene wants you to feel that way. Everyone who built this match, from Vince McMahon to Steve Austin to Mick Foley to Jim Ross to Jerry Lawler, to the director in the back, wants you to believe, with the utmost conviction, that this is the most important moment of your life. And it works. All disbelief is suspended, and your only concern is the survival and the triumph of the valiant WWF Champion. But how did they get you there? How did they make you believe in professional wrestling at that exact moment? The answer to that question begins several weeks before Over The Edge on the April 6th, 1998 episode of Monday Night Raw (two weeks after WrestleMania 14). If watching this episode on the , at 31:25 Mick Foley opens up about his frustrations with wrestling fans and the WWF as only he can. No one, save perhaps , has ever been able to deconstruct the hypocrisy of pro-wrestling audiences in such a captivating, convincing fashion as Mick. There is a tinge of Foley's former ECW-angst in this melancholy monologue. “When I came here two years ago and I was Mankind, there were always people saying y’know why don’t you just be Cactus Jack. And I came out in tie dye and some white boots, and they said y’know why don’t you just be Cactus Jack.” This is the moment Foley turns, the transformation evident in his eyes. “Well I gave you Cactus Jack, I gave you every Goddamn bit of energy I had, and when I was lying there, helpless, you chanted someone else’s name!” Foley is referring to a match he had a week prior. Cactus Jack teamed with Chainsaw Charlie () against The New Age Outlaws in a cage match. DX, in the form of Triple H, Chyna, and X-Pac, interfered in the match and dismantled Chainsaw Charlie and Cactus Jack in brutal fashion. This is how The New Age Outlaws became a part of Triple H’s reformed, militaristic DX-stable following Shawn Michaels’ departure after ‘Mania 14. Instead of cheering for Mick & Terry, the audience cheered for Austin to come to their aid. Mick continues in his promo, “This is not a knock on Stone Cold Steve Austin, I’m happy he’s champion. He may not admit it, but we’ve known each other a long time and he’s been my friend. But what you (the audience) did to me and Terry Funk laying in the middle of this ring was not only distasteful and disrespectful, it was Goddamn disgusting, and I’m gonna give you a chance to make it up to me…because I’m gonna accept a group apology right now.” Mick waits for the audience to apologize. The camera pulls out to reveal him standing in the middle of the ring, pitifully alone (Mick consistently demonstrates his mastery for milking moments of tragedy for all their worth) . After the crowd does not apologize, the camera moves in for an extreme close-up, and a small, ironic smile breaks on Mick’s tortured face. “Well I can finally say for the first time after thirteen years of blood, sweat, and tears, that it’s not worth it anymore. It’s gonna be a long time before you see Cactus Jack in the ring again.” Mick Foley is a broken man at this point in the story, struggling to find his place in The World Wrestling Federation. If Mick fights for the love of wrestling fans, but he’s unable to earn their love even after he’s given them “every goddamn bit of energy” he has, what’s left for him to do? That question sets Mick on a collision course with The Rattlesnake. Act One of Austin vs Dude Love has begun. Running in parallel with the dissolution of Cactus and Chainsaw Charlie's team is the ascent of Stone Cold Steve Austin. After finishing his feud with The Rock for The Intercontinental Championship and winning The 1998 Royal Rumble, Steve Austin was clearly positioned to usurp Shawn Michaels as the WWF Champion. During that build, the seeds for Austin’s rivalry with McMahon were planted. At this time in the WWF, Vince McMahon was not yet the high-stepping, cartoonish Mr. McMahon character everyone knows today. He wasn’t evil simply to be evil, and his feud with Steve Austin didn’t start overnight after just one Stunner. It took time to develop and it became more and more intense week after week. McMahon was much subtler in his performance back then. He was simply a promoter trying to secure deals and position talent in a way that aligned with his corporate manifesto. The character’s goal was to make viewers believe everything he did was fueled by good business sense rather than personal grievances or personal gain. Steve Austin saw through that charade. Steve was certain that Vince McMahon didn’t want him to become WWF Champion at WrestleMania 14, that McMahon was purposefully stacking the deck in Shawn Michaels’ favor (hence why Vince was so desperate to secure Mike Tyson’s involvement - it wasn’t just about having another big name on the marquee, it was about preventing Austin's victory). These events aren’t too far removed from “" where Vince McMahon legitimately conspired against to ensure Bret didn’t leave Survivor Series ’97 for WCW with the WWF Championship belt. That real-world collusion gradually became integrated into Mr. McMahon’s gimmick leading into ‘Mania 14. That added an extra layer of subtle intrigue to the match, and later blossomed into the beloved Austin/McMahon feud. Today’s wrestling fans will see Austin’s acts of defiance stitched together in fun montages, but they’ll miss out on the nuances of their rivalry, and the true mastery of Austin and McMahon’s performances. Their exchanges are bitterly visceral. Both are justified in their hatred of the other. The essence of Steve Austin’s feud with Mr. McMahon is much deeper than “a blue collar worker kicking his boss’s ass”. Steve’s war with Vince is ideological. Mr. McMahon desperately wants to control his World Wrestling Federation. He believes he has the right to snuff out a talent’s natural personality and manipulate that talent to think, feel, and behave in a manner that he deems proper. He is a dictator, a master manipulator, who pinpoints emotional weaknesses and then pounces. Steve Austin, therefore, is Mr. McMahon’s worst nightmare. But not just because Steve's cussing, drinking, and "sign language" makes his company look bad. He’s Stone Cold (the name derived from ). He’s not a sensitive creature like Mick Foley, so Austin is not susceptible to Vince’s powers of persuasion (the power Vince relies upon to get what he wants). Stone Cold is only susceptible to physical peril, but even that doesn’t frighten him. Steve absolutely refuses to be molded in any way whatsoever. The character is an anarchist. The moment “the glass breaks”, everyone is fair game. He is an entity of pure, unadulterated chaos driven by the personal mantra “Raise hell”. He’ll slap cameramen, attack ringside announcers, and threaten commentary because he trusts absolutely no one. He is certain that the entire world is conspiring against him. It just so happens that he’s proven right every single week. In any other environment, Stone Cold Steve Austin would be a monster, a paranoid madman to avoid at all costs. But, in the World Wrestling Federation, Steve Austin is the most logical son of bitch on the planet. That is the nuance of the Stone Cold character that gets lost in translation through montages and documentaries. Much like The Attitude Era itself, Steve Austin, Mick Foley, and Vince McMahon are more than a collection of fun clips easily described as "a different time". These characters never did anything without good reason. And all of the performers inhabit their characters so absolutely that one feels the television pulse with life the moment any of them step on-screen. While these episodes of RAW certainly have their terrible, downright regrettable segments rife with all make and manner of stereotype and prejudice, the primary stories that represent the thrust of these RAW episodes cannot and should not be lumped in with the "Jerry Springer wrestling show" description often leveled at Attitude Era RAW (at least in '98). In 1998, Steve Austin, Mick Foley, and Vince McMahon were telling Shakespeare through the lens of pro-wrestling. If Stone Cold's story is about the success that comes with a refusal to conform, then Mick's story, told separately but simultaneously during Austin’s ascent, represents the flip side of that coin. In trying so desperately to conform to the fan’s wishes (by giving them Cactus Jack) Foley finds himself lost and alone. That brilliant parallelism makes Austin & Foley perfect opponents coming out of WrestleMania season, and the depth of their rivalry is only possible thanks to the fact that both are fully formed characters when they finally clash. Mick’s mid-card tag feud against The New Age Outlaws in the months leading into WrestleMania wasn’t treated as an isolated incident. Mick’s friendship with Terry, the pain he endured fed directly into his main event matches with Austin in the subsequent months. The transition is so fluid that Foley and Austin both gain momentum as they move beyond WrestleMania and into the next pay-per-views. On the April 13th, 1998 episode of Monday Night Raw, Steve Austin finally challenges Vince McMahon to a match. Vince McMahon agrees, but before the match even starts, Dude Love interrupts, supposedly in an attempt to “preserve the peace” and “spread the love”. The segment ends with Dude Love attacking Austin, putting him in The Mandible Claw. Although McMahon pretends to be angry that Dude interfered, in the next episodes it becomes clear that Dude Love is secretly doing the bidding of Mr. McMahon. We see Foley on the next RAW, as Dude, cutting a promo in a Love Shack segment (a psychedelic, purposefully cheesy version of Piper’s Pit) designed to get under the skin of Austin-chanting wrestling fans. It’s important to remember that Mick initially sought the love of wrestling fans. From Mick’s perspective, they rejected their favorite persona of his (Cactus Jack). So, in the months after WrestleMania 14, Foley instead seeks the love of Mr. McMahon. Foley does what Austin absolutely refuses to do. He conforms and gives McMahon Dude Love. Also, beneath Foley’s desire to be loved by the fans and Mr. McMahon, remains his desire to be WWF Champion. He’s willing to sacrifice his integrity, his identity, and even his friendships if it means becoming the Champion. That’s the power of the WWF Championship in 1997 & 1998. The belt is represented as the nucleus of the World Wrestling Federation. Everything orbits the championship, the pull of the title drawing in various wrestlers at various times for various reasons. The Championship is so powerful that even McMahon covets it. That significance provides the basic narrative foundation needed when attempting to craft compelling drama, and it also embodies the power of a performer who has truly gotten over with the crowd. It’s not until you’ve heard a 1998 audience pop at the sound of Steve Austin’s entrance music that you really know what "over" means in professional wrestling. Steve and Dude’s first title match at serves as Act Two of their story. The match ends with Austin whacking Vince McMahon in the head with a chair, giving Dude a stunner, and then counting himself to victory because the referee was knocked out in the fray. The next night on RAW, McMahon orders Steve to defend his title against Golddust, a decision that won’t sit well with Mick Foley who continues to believe he’s the rightful number one contender. Tensions escalate between Foley and McMahon a week later on the May 4th, 1998 episode of RAW. The through-line of this particular episode represents some of the best pro-wrestling storytelling ever committed to tape. The show starts with Foley emerging from behind the curtain for another “Love Shack” segment only he’s not wearing Dude Love attire and he immediately demands that the music be cut off because it makes him sick. “Does anybody here know my name, because to tell you the truth, I don’t know who the hell I am anymore…you see, I don’t have all the answers, but I do know a few things. Number one, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna throw away thirteen years of hard work by sucking up to a lowlife like Vince McMahon. Number Two, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let my wife and kids see me bumping and grinding with a couple of second rate strippers on national television. And number three, I’ll be damned if I perform in this stuff ever again,” Mick raises the Dude Love attire in disgust. He has been booked to face his best friend and former tag partner Terry Funk in a No Holds Barred match that night. Fed up with trying to appease Vince McMahon, Foley sees this match as another form of Vince’s cruel punishment and disrespect. After joining Foley onstage, Vince reveals his powers of manipulation in what is essentially a talent negotiation scene. McMahon explains that booking Mick against Terry wasn’t a punishment, but rather an "opportunity" (keep in mind it’s long been established that everything McMahon says is a bold-faced lie). “If you seize this moment, if you take your best friend out to this ring tonight and you not only beat him, but you beat him within an inch of his life, if you tear him limb from limb, if you reach into his chest and pull out his heart and hold it up and the blood drips down all over you, then you would have made the kind of sacrifice that’s necessary to be the number one contender, the kind of sacrifice that’s necessary to beat Stone Cold Steve Austin, the kind of sacrifice that’s necessary to be the WWF Heavyweight Champion. I’ve got faith in you. I’ve got confidence in you, because I believe, deep down in that demented cranium, you can do it, you can seize this opportunity, and once again become the number one contender for the World Wrestling Federation Championship”. The previously determined and fiery Foley succumbs to the charms of Mr. McMahon. “When I came out here,” McMahon continues, “you threw Dude Love in my face. How does it feel for me to throw the truth into yours?” And then McMahon slaps Foley, and Foley smiles. This is the epitome of an abusive relationship. The abuser recognizes their target's desire to be loved, and then twists that desire into something painful so that the abused cannot distinguish right from wrong, pain from pleasure. Suddenly, Austin’s music hits and The Rattlesnake literally destroys the scene simply because he can. Austin doesn’t attack Mick Foley. He focuses his rage on The Love Shack set, the embodiment of Vince McMahon’s warped perception of entertainment, a symbol of pure oppression. Austin smashes lava lamps, yanks the set down with a grappling hook, and stomps it into shards of splintered wood. Jim Ross and Michael Cole are on commentary and their word choice perfectly fleshes out the depth of this moment, and the motivations of the characters. “Well Mr. McMahon was convincing,” says Jim Ross, “but Stone Cold is even more convincing with his convictions.” Cole chimes in, “Stone Cold is wrecking…wrecking everything that Mr. McMahon has tried to create!” Once he’s finished destroying The Love Shack, Austin charges forward down the ramp, flipping McMahon double-middle-fingers, the veins on his neck popping and his eyes ablaze. He rips his shirt to pieces and climbs atop the turnbuckle, glaring down at the pitiful promoter. Moments such as these demonstrate the power of Stone Cold Steve Austin as WWF Champion, and exactly why Vince McMahon is so afraid of him. McMahon might be a master manipulator. He might be a great salesmen. But no amount of manipulation or salesmanship can contend with a human wrecking ball like Stone Cold Steve Austin. Stone Cold is hellbent on literally tearing down, brick by brick, Vince McMahon’s image of professional wrestling or what he calls "Sports Entertainment". This undercurrent of chaos defines RAW in 1997 and 1998, and it helps flesh out the fictional world depicted by the WWF. Well-timed, purposeful glimpses behind the RAW curtain reveal a deeper pro-wrestling... /episode/index/show/wowpod/id/38762585

Divest From WWE 10/23/2025

Divest From WWE I am divesting from WWE. What does that mean exactly? It means I refuse to buy merch or tickets to shows. I don't watch RAW, NXT, nor SmackDown, and I do not subscribe to ESPN Unlimited. I don't even "put RAW on in the background" because I don't want to give them my view. More than these practical choices, I'm electing to stop caring about WWE. I'm disentangling my concearns as a wrestling fan from the very idea of WWE. They are not the only game in town. There's plenty of wrestling elsewhere. Wrestling that's better and more accessible, if I want to get my fix. Why am I doing this? Simple. I find their content dull, uninventive, and frustrating. I do not appreciate being priced out of my fandom, forced to buy an over-priced streaming service I'll rarely ever use. Rather than just going along with what they're giving me, I'm taking my agency back and saying, "No". Put simply, they've lost a paying customer due to the low-quality of their product and the rising price tag for it. I've gone on breaks from WWE in the past, mostly because their quality is so erratic. But something is different about this break. Unlike in the past where I just assumed I'd get reeled back in, I'm taking a more purposeful stand. I want them to lose viewers. I want their deal with ESPN to fail. I want these things not because I want the company to hurt (as if they could). I want these things to happen because for WWE to get better they need more than angry posts and hashtags. They need hard, irrefutable evidence that what they're doing, creatively and financially, is not in alignment with the desires of the average wrestling fan. This break isn't fueled by my disdain for twenty minute opening promos, backstage segments, one-dimensional characters, a lack of real stars, and poorly developed stories. It's fueled by a recognition that this company does not care about my particular sort of fandom. Why, then, should I care about them? They don't want a thinking, feeling, passionate fan base. They want a consumer who mindlessly gobbles up whatever they're fed. Due in no small part to the existence of AEW, I no longer need to just accept that fact. I can turn to a form of weekly wrestling that's more satisfying, more character-based, more action-centric, and more thoughtfully booked. AEW isn't perfect. It still shares a lot of the late '90s wrestling DNA with WWE, an era the wrestling business can't seem to outgrow. Backstage segments still look and sound terrible. Promo trains are the norm. But for all of AEW's aeshetic flaws, their form of wrestling is charged by the passion of the fan. There's an overriding sense that the fan is the priority, that the fan will be "taken care of", and that it's okay to place one's faith in a longform story. Put another way, AEW respects my intelligence. WWE does not. For WWE, my intelligence is a nagging irregularity to be squashed by pyrotechnics and canvas adverts. And that's what I want you, WWE-fan, to consider. Does the company have your priorities at heart, or are they paving over everything that makes you unique in the interest of making billions? We witnessed the creative process firsthand in WWE: Unreal on Netflix (or at least we saw what they wanted us to see). One need only observe John Cena's fairwell tour, his lackluster turn as a heel, to see that the company's creative mechanism is flawed seemingly beyond repair. There are two distinct levels to WWE-content. Level one are your top tier stories reserved for champions, programs that pitt "the big" superstars against each other. Your CM Punks, your Seth Rollins, your Cody Rhodes, your John Cenas, and so on. These stories appear to be planned a few months in advance, allowing room to pivot as needed. The manifestation of these stories is nothing unique, though. Promo-trains, tag matches between heel/babyface factions, backstage brawls, and, occasionally, actual wrestling matches. The narrative structure is akin to a snake eating its own tail - it recycles endlessly, a great, reptative wheel of skits, monologues, and conflicts. It isn't all terrible all the time, of course. Occasionally, CM Punk, Paul Heyman, or John Cena will say something interesting or have a good match at a premium live event. And some characters, like Rhea Ripley, seem to have struck a genuine, emotional chord in the WWE fanbase. Level two represents "everything else". This would typically be referred to as "the midcard", but WWE does not have a midcard. A midcard is the most important thing for a professional wrestling promotion to have. It should represent a deep well of creativity to draw from whenever the top of the card needs an injection of life. The midcard should be a lovable cast of fully formed characters, putting on show-stealing matches and cutting fun promos. In modern WWE, the non-existent midcard is a cast of unrecognizable characters who lack agency and intrigue. These wrestlers take up most of the weekly broadcasts within the same narrative structures as the top (promos, backstage segments, interviews, matches), only their matches are entirely disposable. These matches do not contribute to any semblance of momentum. At any point, these depthless characters can disappear from television, thereby negating any percieved progress. They're filler, requiring less creative energy and, therefore, less thought. Your Rusevs, your Sheamuses, your entire women's division, your El Grande Americanos, and so on. For all the talent at its disposal, WWE still fails to figure out a way to create a vibrant midcard that can support an equally vibrant Championship narrative structure. All of this, for me, has made WWE unwatchable (even when some of my favorite wrestlers are presently working there). I'm not saying I'll never watch the company again, but I am taking a healthy hiatus and I'm going to see what effect that has on my fandom. So far, it's been nothing but good. No more hate-watching twenty minute monologues or meaningless matches. No more trying to figure out the cheapest way to have access to premium live events. I encourage you, the discerning wrestling fan, to join me in this experiment. Let's see what happens when the message becomes clear that wrestling fans don't enjoy (or can't afford) what WWE is selling. I don't expect the company to change on a dime just because one beleaguered fan has given up on them. But if enough of us band together and proudly say, "No", then perhaps things will change. Subscribe to /episode/index/show/wowpod/id/38758730

WOW - EP421 - AEW Wrestle Dream Review 10/20/2025

WOW - EP420 - The Underground 10/13/2025

Art-ificial Intelligence and Professional Wrestling 10/10/2025

Art-ificial Intelligence and Professional Wrestling NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSCRIPT OF EPISODE OF EP417 What is artificial intelligence? To have a productive discussion about it, we must first define it. Artificial intelligence (AI) is the ability of machines or computer systems to perform tasks that typically require human intelligence, such as learning, reasoning, problem-solving, perception, and decision-making. AI involves creating intelligent systems that can adapt, learn from data, and act to achieve specific goals, often by simulating human cognitive processes. An example of AI is the definition I just read, provided by Google AI. I wanted to know the definition of the term, Google interpreted my request, and then spat out a human-like definition that describes the characteristics of AI. This is a fairly benign process. The downside of it is that it may lack accuracy or depth, and that it encourages laziness. A misinformed, lazy populace is a scary thing. Such is the nature of every day people’s relationship with technology. For example, I have no idea how my cell phone works. Actually, let’s get even simpler, I have no idea how my oven, dishwasher, or toaster works. I just know that they work or they don’t. This makes me incredibly reliant upon experts to fix any problems that arise - electricians, plumbers, and so on. That means I’m less capable, as a person. I can’t fix things I use on a weekly, even daily basis. If I drop my cell phone in the toilet, I’m fucked. I only have one number memorized (my wife’s). In this way we outsource responsibility to others. And doesn’t that raise a peculiar problem - what happens when the people we outsource responsibility to aren’t people at all. How does the world function when the machines are maintained by the machines? The advent of this technology is supposed to provide me more leisure time. I don’t have to worry about fixing anything myself nor do I have to worry about calling another person to fix it. It’s a self-regulating system that can operate completely independently of me. Supposedly, the time this saves me would allow me to focus on the things I really cared about like art. But what if art no longer needed artists to make and maintain it? What happens when you extract the human being from the art? The stakes baked into that question are high. All I hear is that my services are no longer needed. Let’s imagine a sentient AI decides to make The Wrestling Works podcast - a podcast that analyzes professional wrestling as an art to figure out what makes it work. This AI is able to generate scripts based on wrestling’s past, present, and future, and even produce a human-sounding voice. This AI would do all the grunt work required to get that podcast on iTunes and other repositories so that it could actually be heard by the masses. It could establish various social media accounts and post on those accounts far more than I ever good, gradually amassing a following. This AI could steal phrases from me like, “one and all” or “may the moment of pop be with you”, but I would have no recourse because those terms aren’t trade-marked. That AI could even listen to every episode of The Work Of Wrestling in a matter of days and create a fact simile of my voice, diction, and tone. What regulations are there to prevent this from happening? And Wrestling Works hosted by Jim Fail would be infinitely more successful than my podcast because of the novelty of it being artificial. This AI would have been created by AI, not humans. It could even be the owner of an AI-generating company, not unlike the machine-run state 0-1 depicted in the Animatrix short The Second Renaissance (and just as an aside, if you want to know how everything is going to turn out with AI within the next fifty years, watch The Animatrix - long story short, it doesn’t - and won’t - end well for human bings). Entire AI media networks will form, without any sort of human oversight, harvesting data and creating customized content based on that data far more efficiently than human beings ever could. Consider your relationship with Google today - you open the webpage and type in your subject or question and then Google spits out a bunch of options for you to choose from. More often than not you’ll get pretty close to what you were looking for. Now imagine a Google that doesn’t even require you to ask the question - it simply already knowns what you’re going to ask it before you ask it because it’s been monitoring everything about you, from your word-choice to your heart rate to your neural activity, perhaps, if AI-fueled bodily enhancements every become a thing (which they will), even being away of your thoughts as you’re thinking them. In this world where your mind is synergies with the machines, asking and answering is instantaneous and all that makes you human is relatively unimportant. Again, I come back to the idea that I’m not really needed in this kind of world. Everything is taken care of for me so I’m able to just sit back, relax, and play my video games. My brand of arts analysis is inferior because I’m limited by my individuality, my pesky emotions, my marriage, my friends, my family, and other various time constraints (like a full-time job). AI doesn’t have to worry about any of that. Wrestling Works could churn out episodes as often as it likes - but it would first study the listening habits of its audience, learn what other shows they’re listening to, and craft the perfect podcast with highly specific content that seems tailor-made for each listener - the perfect subject, the perfect length of time, and the perfect frequency. My guess is that it a new episode would come out every weekday, be thirty minutes long, and cover WWE, AEW, NXT, NEW JAPAN, and any other promotion it deems worthwhile. Can you imagine how efficient that would be. You’d open your preferred podcast app and you’d no longer be at the mercy of me - my artistic drive, my interests, my passions, my failures. You’d only get exactly what you want, when you want it, and for how long it can sustain your interest. The more I talk about this the more horrified I become, because it’s going to happen. There’s no putting this toothpaste back in the tube. With the rise of AI will come the inevitable backlash, and human only spaces will crop up across the world as havens. When in such places there will be limited access to the internet and devices, and people will get back to what being human is all about. This being human thing will be decidedly niche though and come with a hefty price, just like any such retreats that exist for the same purpose today. And remember, everything I’ve discussed thus far is AI without a bipedal body (bipedal just means an animal that uses only two legs for walking - thank you again Google AI). Our healthy fear of The Machines (due in no small part to the brilliant first two Terminator films) has somewhat blinded us to the more insidious bodiless artificial intelligence that hacks all networks and gains control of our nuclear stock piles (the basis of the last two Mission:Impossible films). AI won’t even have much use for human-like bodies because it’s more liberated in its own, vast, interconnected network cloud. Humans will certainly want bipedal AI bodies though for a wide assortment of tasks and these will be considered lesser machines designed to perform lesser jobs. First and foremost, these human-like machines will be used to replace nannies, construction workers, any human working in public transportation (we’ve got self-driving trains), anyone working for Uber (we’ve got self-driving cars), doctors, lawyers, sales people, retail workers, waiters, waitresses, cooks, janitors…the list of replaceable jobs is endless. And if all of the alienation and purposelessness of this reality gets you down and you no longer know how to talk to another human being well don’t worry because we’ve got AI companion robots! Fully functional, anatomically correct, entirely customizable artificially intelligent mates. Put simply, sex robots are definitely coming and Washington is going to have a hell of a time regulating them (which is to say, they won’t). Abuse of these machines will run rampant. These human-like AI robots will be subject to all make and manner of torture, satisfying the dark appetites of a populace increasingly devoid of empathy. If you think I’m getting off topic don’t worry, I’m getting to professional wrestling. Within fifty years there will be an AI wrestling match. The novelty will be too much for promotions to pass up. And you know what…fans are going to eat it up. They’re going to love watching Kenny Omega take on Lenny Alpha, the Lucha AI from Zero-One. These robot wrestlers will perform wrestling moves no human ever could. Body slams from the rafters. Super coast to coast drop kicks that make Shane McMahon’s signature look like child’s play. And the violence, oh the violence. Because they’re machines, there’s no limit to what they can do. We’re going to watch and scream with joy as they literally skin each other alive and set themselves on fire. We’re going to watch, satisfied in a way we never could’ve imagined, as these hyper realistic robots bleed and bake for our entertainment. And all of this continues to remove you - that thing which makes you, you - that beautiful spark burning in your soul yearning to be free, desperate to be understood - your humanity is nothing more than the firing of a few peculiar neurons. Keep all of this in mind as you consider the undeniable reality of climate change. Earth is getting hotter. It’s boiling over, in fact, and the number of climate refugees is souring. This is a fact no climate-change-denier will, eventually, be able to avoid. What happens when that mass of humanity clashes with another mass of humanity who’s had their jobs taken away by AI. Then consider whether or not AI will care about climate change. It doesn’t breathe the air. It could float on water in vast, ocean-sized data centers. AI could build a massive rocket and shoot it into the stars long after we weak little humans have expired. On a smaller scale, what happens if an AI scrolls through a person’s social media history and doesn’t like what they see. What if an AI listened to this very episode of my podcast and took umbrage with it. You think being cancelled is bad - how about a sniper-drone that can see and shoot through walls. This is the world we face. I am convinced that our children, today, will live to see some, if not all of this come to pass. It’s going to be bloody, horrifying, and seemingly insurmountable. All because we like having quick answers to questions. All because we like consequence-free sex and violence. All because we didn’t value that thing which makes our entire existence precious and meaningful - that messy, difficult, awe-inspiring thing called the human soul. /episode/index/show/wowpod/id/38534755