Poem of the Week: Show Some Respect, Creeps!

Hello, readers.

Today’s poem isn’t quite the one that I was looking forward to sharing today, but after reading about the passing this past Wednesday of Eldridge Wayne Coleman—best known to professional wrestling fans and insiders as “Superstar” Billy Graham—I couldn’t help but offer my condolences to his widow Valerie Irwin, his children Joey and Capella Graham, and the rest of his family and friends as well as all his fans. I’m sure that not everyone has taken kindly to the guy for one reason or another (as is true with celebrities and other public figures in general, if not humanity as a whole) for some of the remarks he’s made in the not-too-distant past prior to succumbing to an ear infection in January that eventually spread to his ear bones and skull and the consequential complications he suffered from acute kidney failure, congestive heart failure, lung problems, diabetes, and hearing loss among other health complications. Nevertheless, the man made a profound mark in the professional wrestling industry during the 1970s and 80s and was particularly influential upon the likes of such similarly legendary performers as Hulk Hogan, “The Nature Boy” Ric Flair, Austin Idol, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Paul “Triple H” Levesque, Jesse “The Body” Ventura, and “Big Poppa Pump” Scott Steiner. Granted, my days as a wrestling fan may be over, but as someone who used to enjoy the art for what it was once upon a time and what it could one day be again with the right booking and presentation, I’d still like to say rest in peace to Superstar and thank him for his contributions to this oft-mocked yet nevertheless time-honored form of entertainment.

That said, while I much rather would have posted a poem honoring the fellow, what struck me more than Superstar’s passing was the disparagement in the comments section of the article’s MSN.com feed toward not only him, but to all pro wrestlers and to wrestling in general. I feel foolish, too, for neglecting to copy the article’s link so that you folks could read for yourselves the rude, snide, callous, childish, and condescending remarks that these keyboard warriors have made. Then again, maybe it’s for the better that I haven’t included said link here for fear that my doing so might further fuel the flame war that these loudmouths have obviously tried to instigate, and this pre-poem editorial that I’m writing as we speak is already a form of troll-feeding as matters stand, which I otherwise know better than to do. At the same time, though, I can’t help but vent about these scumbags and the unwarranted venom they’ve spewed, for whether they meant what they’ve said or are only egging wrestling fans on, the fact is that the circumstances don’t warrant it in the slightest. On one hand are those who called wrestling “nonsense,” a “clown show,” “theater of the absurd,” a “stupid soap opera,” “trash,” and a “total farce” and even equating it to The Jerry Springer Show, of all things. Yes, WWE figurehead Vince McMahon had Springer on WWE Television a couple of times prior to his demise, but really? All of wrestling being on the same level as Springer’s infamous trainwreck of a “talk show?” Then again, on the other hand are those who’ve accused professional wrestlers of being “phony athletes” and “overrated stuntmen and stuntwomen” who “didn’t [don’t] have enough talent to go to Hollywood” when I bet that the majority of these windbags could never outperform even the least impressive in-ring workers on their worst days over the course of the three hundred-plus-day schedule that many a wrestler has to work while on the road away from his, her, or their family. Heck, I’m willing to bet that these losers wouldn’t even last their first day or wrestling school without crying like the glorified babies they ultimately are. One poster even claimed that wrestling is “adored by the Trump cult followers” simply because McMahon has long been friends with former U.S. President Donald Trump and has featured him on WWE programming and had him inducted into WWE’s Hall of Fame. Another blowhard, meanwhile, has accused Americans specifically of believing that pro wrestling is real despite the general public having known for decades that the art form is, in fact, a work—“sports theater,” if you’d rather—rather than a genuine, full-fledged sport. Others still had the gall to announce that they weren’t going to miss Graham with one person in particular claiming that he/she/they was “happy” about the man’s death. If that last remark doesn’t show just how heartless and classless this poster particularly was in addition to everyone else who was flooding the comments section with such unsolicited malice, then I don’t know what to tell you. At any rate, these arrogant, mean-spirited brats made their stance on the business crystal clear for the entire world to read, much to my disgust and exasperation…and not even as a former wrestling fan, either, but purely as a human being.

Let me make this real to you, people: Back when I first started watching pro wrestling, few people, if any at all, bothered inquiring about whether it was real or not. Maybe we should have asked ourselves such a question, given the gimmicks that some of the wrestlers sported at the time from the “Ugandan Giant” Kamala, the Road Warriors, and George “The Animal” Steele to the kayfabe undead Undertaker and his demonic brother Kane to all the various characters in between from Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, among other promotions of the era. Even after the revelation of wrestling being a stage production came to light, however, not only did fans of the art come to accept it, but there was even a short boom period in 1997 to 2001 that many a wrestling fan still holds dear to this day merely because of the characters who drew folks in to come see each promotion’s events. Sadly, the wrestling world has yet to capture that same spark that had made it so special back in the 1980s and ‘90s, which admittedly wasn’t a flawless era by any means, but that didn’t stop people of all kinds from watching the shows and supporting the business. Personal demographics made very little difference, too, when it came to the people who filled whatever arena a given wrestling show was taking place. Age, race, gender, religion, political affiliation, sexual preference, occupation, financial income—none of that made any difference when it came to who watched wrestling back then. We all arrived at the shows, saw what the promotions had to offer us, rooted for our favorite wrestlers to triumph over their opponents, and enjoyed whatever action we saw. The more profound the characters, the stronger the booking, and the fiercer the in-ring action, the more we loved the show, too, and the likelier we would be to return, regardless of what the non-fans thought of us or our enthusiasm for this given brand of “sports entertainment.” Alas, because the industry still hasn’t recovered from the “Great Wrestling Crash” of ‘01—much to my own chagrin, at the very least—and continues to wax and wane in quality without ever attaining (and maintaining) such a degree of excitement for reasons X, Y, and Z, it’s become so much easier for the denigrators of pro wrestling to mock it, calling it various insults from a “redneck sport” (I’m looking at you, YouTuber Super Bunnyhop.) to “homoerotic” (“DanB,” also from YouTube) and even calling its participants “hairless apes,” among other infantile pejoratives.

The fact remains, readers, that we all have our likes and dislikes in life, and just because certain people share a common interest or hobby that we don’t care for or about doesn’t automatically give any of us the right to bash them for it. It certainly doesn’t give us the right to verbally urinate, defecate, or vomit on someone, either, for being a participant in such a business. After all, even if not everyone loved “Superstar” Billy Graham while he was alive, he wasn’t someone who was in the same moral vein as Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Charlie Manson, John Wayne Gacy, etcetera, nor does he deserve to have his death celebrated or his choice of vocation trashed by a bunch of rotten apples who want to use his status as a pro wrestling legend to excrete all over him and the artform. Besides, what’s wrestling to these jerks, anyway? How has it affected their lives? Because as far as I’m concerned, pro wrestling is little more than an easy target for non-fans to attack chiefly because they don’t understand how it can be as popular as it is, given its confessedly fabricated nature. Throw in the inability of the wrestling business to regain and keep the ground it lost once upon a time, and that only makes it all the easier for outsiders to defame and rail against. It’s a shame, too, because it’s bad enough already that the decent people of the world who still enjoy and respect the art end up having to put up with the patronizing snobs, temperamental lunatics, thin-skinned fanboys and fangirls, posturing pseudo-alphas, whiny smarks, even whinier “anti-smarks,” and other idiots who undeniably still corrupt the fandom to which they belong and further give it a bad look. They shouldn’t have to additionally deal with those who dislike wrestling constantly barraging it and them with constant disdain and ridicule for whatever excuse fuels the latter’s unsolicited scoffing. After all, I’m not much into comic books, so why should I waste my time harassing anyone who enjoys them or any media based on a property owned by Marvel, DC, or any other comic book publisher when I can instead spend my energy doing something infinitely more productive? The same goes for anime, which I don’t even pay attention to in the first place. What sense is there especially in me shaming aficionados of Japanese animation for their interest when I can instead focus on what I do care about? Such is what I’d expect those who don’t care about or for pro wrestling would do. Don’t like it? Fine. Guess what, then: Either be civil when talking about it, or keep your opinion to yourself—especially when a beloved wrestler like “Superstar” Billy Graham passes away from sepsis and multiple organ failure well over a decade after his storied steroid abuse.

Seriously, folks, if only we could be more candid and less hostile when expressing our likes and dislikes on the Internet—and, for that matter, in the real world—then society would be that much more pleasant. To the people who’ve been mocking “Superstar” Billy Graham and professional wrestling in general shortly after his death, I say grow up, get off and stay off the ‘Net, and get a real hobby. Your childishness was and still is completely inexcusable, regardless of your motivation behind it, and I hope MSN.com bans your MSN accounts for abusing your privileges with their website’s services, as the world needs fewer soulless stinkpots like you shamelessly wearing your puerility on your sleeves for the entire planet to see. To Superstar’s fans and loved ones, in contrast, all I’ll say is that my prayers are with you. Finally, to Billy Graham himself—or, if you’d rather, Eldridge Wayne Coleman—rest in peace, and thank you for the memories.

Also, for those of you who are still interested in reading today’s poem, feel free to carry on down below, and thank you for your time.

Regards,

Dustin M. Weber

*****

Show Some Respect, Creeps!
May 18, 2023

A man died this week. Show some respect, creeps!
Hate wrestling? Keep your mouths shut and move on.
Get off your high horses and go to sleep.

For months, Eldridge Coleman’s had trouble deep,
No thanks to health ailments and now’s passed on.
A man died this week. Show some respect, creeps!

An icon for many who, today, weep.
From all walks of life, somber is their song.
Get off your high horses and go to sleep.

Guess who rides in, though, to mock the art (Creeps!)
And claim that all in it are in the wrong.
A man died this week. Show some respect, creeps!

“Stuntmen,” “no talent,” “phony”…disdain deep
From the mouths of spiteful, heartless morons…
Get off your high horses and go to sleep.

Spare the world your spleen. Let the mournful weep
And the man you mindlessly mock pass on.
A man died this week. Show some respect, creeps!
Get off your high horses and go to sleep.

*****

The images used in this post (c) 2023 POST Wrestling and Gerweck.net. The comments and poem, however, are the author’s own.

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: The Final Bell: Ruminations of a Former Wrestling Fan

The Final Bell: Ruminations of a Former Wrestling Fan
September 11, 2022

An industry I’d outgrown years ago still calls my name,
Yet I’ve no longing to look back at what’s long been inane:
Dumbed-down writing meant to please one man’s will and his alone;
Business decisions questionable by anyone sane;

Workers over with the crowds passed over for those without
The skill or allure to do the same themselves, hence the shouts
Of fans and pundits alike left and right demanding change,
Yet the promotions ignore them, no matter how crowds pout.

Even certain self-proclaimed supporters of the business
Are at fault for mucking things up and causing much distress
By defending that which they, too, know well is utter crap,
Lying ‘bout and making excuses for the bell-clear mess.

Year after year, things have gone this way, much to my chagrin,
And no matter what change does happen, I still cannot win,
For no matter which problems seem to get fixed, more rear their
Ugly heads in their wake to drive me to the loony bin.

Now I sit here pondering if perchance I’m too old for
This whole scene I used to love, yet for years has been a chore.
After all, though the passion still burns within me, I sigh
At all in it I’ve come to loathe…or, at least, find a bore.

Are my standards just too high for what I once knew was great,
Or have I simply become set in my ways as of late?
Was this thing I used to love even good in the first place,
Or was I too dumb to know then that it I’d come to hate?

All I know is that there’s no going back to what once was,
Even though those times, too, had their issues, despite the buzz
That surrounded the artform I no longer love these days.
People age, after all—my heroes no exception, cuz—

And no matter who might rise and replace the heroes I
Once knew, no matter how well such stars attract others’ eyes,
They’ll never capture my heart—not with me knowing what I
Have come to know, leastways, from the scene, which to me has died.

Worse yet, all the time and cash I’ve spent over all those years
I’ll never get back, and yet, I know I can’t shed a tear,
For I’ve but myself to blame for parting with both so soon.
“Live and learn,” so we’re all told, which right now rings all too clear.

Oh, well…let others enjoy things as they are if they can.
Other interests await me to shape me into the man
I can still be at this point in my life, tired though I am.
And focus in them I shall to serve a much greater plan.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: Looking Back at the Scene I’d Left…and Being Thankful for Why I Did

Looking Back at the Scene I’d Left…and Being Thankful for Why I Did
February 20, 2021
 
I dared to look back recently on something I’d left long ago—
An interest I swore I no longer had, and boy, I wish it’d stayed so,
For looking back, I saw something vile: Nothing had changed at all—
Nothing for the better, leastways. In fact, things had taken a harder fall,
What with how the fanbase squabbled still, one side against another,
Like Capulets versus Montagues…and over simple preferences, brother!
 
“Your guys suck! So do your shows! Deal with it, you beta male simps!”
“Well, at least our guys aren’t ‘roidheads like yours, you posturing virgin wimps!”
“Hey, it takes more than ‘talent’ to be a star. Take the hint, goofs, and shut up!”
“Yeah, ‘cause your guys have characters that stand out…stupid yapping pups!”
“Like anyone’ll root for your scrawny vanilla midgets, you damn S-J-dubs!”
“Like your monsters have any more charisma themselves, you pseudo-alpha slugs!”
 
Two sides of the same coin bickering like children on a playground,
Each blaming the other for pro wrestling’s fall and running it into the ground.
It was like I remembered from years ago—over a decade, in fact,
When both top promotions were struggling and delivering products so whack.
I tried myself then to ignore the nonsense and reignite my passion
For an art I used to love as a kid, but alas…only fleeting satisfaction.
It didn’t help that non-fans grew only sourer on wrestling since ‘01
And would slam it any chance they got, though not always just for fun.
Heaven knows my own tributes are “cheesy” and “worthless,” according to some,
Yet made them I still did, for even then, had the day I outgrew wrestling come,
At least those who’d come after me would appreciate it and for themselves start
An interest that would encourage them to somehow keep alive the art.
 
Nowadays, though, my hopes aside, interest in it dies further by the day,
And part of it no thanks to these brats who whine each chance that comes their way
About something they still clearly support, yet they slander it time after time.
“This game sucks!” “This show sucks!” “These writers suck!” All echo in these ears of mine.
Rarely do these twerps—if ever—show respect for anything but the past,
Not caring that they’ll one day mourn wrestling’s death, should it no longer last,
For if it dies, then so does the foundation for these squirts’ channels and fanbase.
Then again, who am I kidding? They’ll just find something else to debase,
For their hatred is like blood to them, and like vampires, they keep feeding,
And even if the scene improves, they’ll just find more fault in it and keep it bleeding,
And should wrestling finally die from all the lack of interest it’s received,
These ill-mannered ticks will just move on to the next thing and make that bleed.
They’re nothing but parasites feeding off what pro wrestling used to be,
Fussing and fighting over what it is now and at all that they hear and see,
Not knowing or caring what it could be for someone else who’s just finding out
What it is, once was, and could be one day and perhaps love it. Great job, louts!
Sure, if the show’s bad, then it’s bad, and we all should call out its flaws,
But these snot-nosed punks keep screaming and shouting without the slightest pause,
And it’s no wonder, based on their actions, why pro wrestling’s still stuck where it is,
For how can anything survive at all when its own “fans” keep crapping on the biz
And not give anything the slightest chance, be it good, bad, or otherwise?
You’d think these crybabies’ followers would wake up and realize
How their constant hate for a supposed love’s naught but a disease
And that they could all step back and cool off from it with surprising ease
And go look for something they just might like instead of constantly
Ragging on that which they clearly no more enjoy. Simple as can be.
 
I fell out of love with pro wrestling myself quite a while ago,
And while I hope the industry still survives for those who still love it so,
I ultimately don’t care about it these days, no thanks to it having been lame
Since the day I tried to enjoy it again, and for the sake of my own pain,
I should have stopped supporting it far sooner than when I did, I’ll admit,
And while I’m sure many fans are still so caught up in the allure of it,
I’ve at last outgrown pro wrestling, albeit thankful for those memories
I’ve had of the business back when it was good for everyone to hear and see.
Thank you, then, pro wrestling, for those times. I just wish you’d have stayed strong,
But the spring of 2001 was all the sign I needed to say, “So long,”
And I should have left it at that, I know, but if it means anything,
You’ll never see me devolve into one of these creeps who shreds everything
And demands that you be what he wants while pretending to speak for everyone,
For why create more misery for myself or anyone else under the sun
When it’s much more sensible to move on? After all, no expert am I,
And to pretend to be so is absurd, as these self-entitled twits daily try.
Farewell, then, pro wrestling, as my adult life has other things for me in store
To satisfy my need for happiness and keep it from being a bore.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: Don’t Like It? Don’t Watch It!

Don’t Like It? Don’t Watch It!
February 19, 2021
 
Don’t like it?
Don’t watch it!
“It stinks!”
“It sucks!”
Sucks to be you, then.
Sucks to be trapped—
Trapped watching what you hate,
Trapped getting into flame wars—
Wars with total strangers,
Wars over opinions,
Opinions on entertainment,
Opinions on a dying art,
Art I left long ago—
Art I no longer care about.
About time, too!
About to lose my mind, I was.
Was constantly miserable myself.
Was it worth it at all—
All the seizures,
All the headaches?
Headaches over terrible writing,
Headaches over underwhelming characters—
Characters unlike those I still miss,
Characters flatter than sheets of paper.
Paper I’ll keep in my wallet.
Paper not worth parting with.
With other tasks, I’ll keep busy.
With other interests, I’ll be happy—
Happy to move on,
Happy to have grown—
Grown with knowledge,
Grown with wisdom—
Wisdom of true masculinity,
Wisdom of Betas versus Alphas.
Alphas ask, Betas beg.
Alphas walk away tall, Betas grovel—
Grovel with rants and ramblings,
Grovel with profanity and pejoratives—
Pejoratives for the performers,
Pejoratives for fellow fans.
Fans I doubt they even are.
Fans I doubt they can call themselves
Themselves so full of fury,
Themselves so devoid of hope.
Hope I have, though…
Hope that I can still seek happiness—
Happiness knowing that I’ve life goals to press,
Happiness knowing that I’ve moved on.
Press…
On! 

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: What I Personally Want from Pro Wrestling from 2020 Onward

What I Personally Want from Pro Wrestling from 2020 Onward
June 8, 2020

Simple, straightforward booking that makes sense from start to end—
No out-of-nowhere shock twists, lest they somehow make sense, friend—
Centered around strong characters developed oh so thoroughly
Through matches and promos alike so that they appeal to you and me.
Characters played by performers who know how to handle themselves
In the ring so that they avoid putting themselves and each other on the shelves
While performing feats of athleticism that not only please the eye,
But demonstrate wrestling diversity as we know it ‘neath Heaven’s sky:
Puroresu, lucha libre, power wrestling, folk wrestling, submission,
Brawling, chain wrestling, showboating, dirty—let it be your mission
To show us every wrestling style known so we’ve a variety
In addition to each wrestler’s persona and personality,
For in-ring performance is one thing, but that’s only part of the whole,
And without the charisma with which to present one’s self in a given role,
A wrestler may never get over with the masses far and wide,
So it’s his or her job to rally the fans to or against his or her side.
Then again, knowing one’s own strengths and weaknesses is key—
Showing off the former and hiding the latter to work on in secrecy
So that when one reaches one’s apex, one’s shot at immortality
Will be hard-earned and worth the effort of becoming nobility
Just like the greats who came before and made for us all countless memories
As heroes and heels in a golden age we’ve all yet again to see.
Then again, these wrestling stars lucked out in having creative on their side—
Promoters and bookers who believed in them and looked upon them with pride
And let them ply their craft to the fullest, letting their talent shine through,
Living their dreams of stardom organically to inspire me and you.
Finally are the fans, many of whom are true, yet others are full of hot air,
Spewing venom ‘bout all in the business that they hate like children without care,
Thinking they alone own the truth ‘bout what pro wrestling ought to be,
Bitching day and night ‘bout even the most minor thing they chance to hear or see
‘Bout these wrestling shows they claim “suck,” yet they still watch week after week.
No wonder these promotions can’t succeed and all their futures seem bleak!
These “fans” need to grown up and learn to keep their testosterone in check
And to root for what wrestling they at all like, else the biz will keep getting “rekt.”
That’s all I want from pro wrestling, a lot though it my seem,
And it’s far more doable than one might think, so let’s get it together, team,
And commit to one solid vision of what pro wrestling can and should be
To keep the art alive and bring about the new golden age we’ve all yearned to see.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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