It’s funny; in my life, I’ve taken my share of whimsical flack, criticism and questioning the fact that I’m a fan of professional wrestling.  How it’s “fake,” which is true that all results are pre-determined, but the physical action is still very much real, and how it’s the equivalent of watching a men’s soap opera, which I also cannot really refute.

And that “it’s stupid,” because it’s a closed-minded good ol’ boys club where grown men in spandex tights bash each other in the heads with chairs in some rehearsed homoerotic dance that only rednecks like.

Now there was once a time and place where this was a more succinct description of the industry, but that time is in the past, and this is where I disagree such an assessment.

Continue reading “Paige, the WWE Divas and the progression of the industry” →