The Wrestling home of Moondog Manson

I apologize in advance for the fact that this column will lack my usual tight focus. I'm just too pissed off.

For those of you who missed RAW this week, let me bring you up to speed on the latest goings-on in the WWE Women's Division. Trish Stratus, using her vast psychological skills, has finally divined the reason why Molly Holly hates her and the other WWE Divas so much. It seems Molly has "a big ass".

Trish saw fit to point this out to Molly during an interview, leading to a match on RAW between the two. All through the match, Jerry Lawler took cheap shot after cheap shot at Molly, calling her "Thunder Thighs" and claiming that "when someone told Molly to haul ass, she had to make two trips."

Tremendous. What a brilliant idea. Let's take a woman in peak physical condition like Molly Holly, and suggest that there is something wrong with her appearance. As if females in this culture don't have enough of a fucked-up body image as it is.

According to Eating-Disorder.org, "Fifteen percent of young women have substantially disordered eating attitudes and behaviors." And the reason for this is that media sources give them unrealistic standards for their physical appearance, then criticize them harshly both directly and indirectly when they fail to conform.

Trish, with her background in the fitness industry, really should have known better. If Stone Cold Steve Austin can refuse to go along with an angle just to massage his ego, Trish can refuse to go along with something that is genuinely damaging. She does have the draw power.

If someone would be so kind, please pass this message along to WWE: for Christ's sake, think!

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On the subject of booking apparently performed by mentally defective apes, Dan Titus informs me that a forthcoming pay-per-view will feature a ten-woman lingerie battle royal, plus a homosexual tag team dressed in penis costumes. No big surprise there until you realize that the promotion involved is not WWE, or even XPW, but rather a member of the NWA.

For those of you who believe The Rock invented professional wrestling, the NWA is among the oldest wrestling organizations in the business. In fact, the NWA pretty much was the business until Vince McMahon Jr. took his company nationwide.

The word most commonly associated with the NWA is "tradition". As in, "traditional wrestling". As in, men and women slugging it out in a ring as the rule, rather than the exception. This is the organization that made Ric Flair a legend.

And this is what it's come down to. Cheap T&A acts and dicks dressed like pricks. (Or is it pricks dressed like dicks?) This is depressing. When ECW folded, I begged the wrestling gods for an alternative to WWE. Evidently, the gods enjoy a good jest. It's enough to make me question why I bother with wrestling any more.

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In fact, now that I think of it, why do I bother with wrestling? Lately, it seems, I'm on the verge of becoming one of those charming "fans" who are only happy when wrestling sucks so they can complain and make snarky comments about it. And I hate that idea -- as, indeed, I hate those people.

So what keeps me coming back? Because I know that when I watch a wrestling show, I can count on certain things. I know that the Hardy Boyz will attempt suicide for my entertainment. I know that RVD will show me moves I have never even dreamt of. I know that Triple H and Ric Flair will bleed themselves dry and keep on going. I know that Moondog Manson will amaze me by someday performing a forward roll. I know that Vince will make me laugh with scenery-chewing that would make Bela Lugosi jealous. And I know that somewhere, buried inamongst all the shlock, I will see one or two matches that will make me fall in love again.

Okay, maybe not Manson.