Wrestlemania 25

Last night I ordered Wrestlemania 25 on PPV. As I typed those words, intellectuals around the world let out grunts of indignation. Professional wrestling, I admit, is not a high brow form of entertainment. Under strenuous examination from disgusted friends, I find it difficult to justify my steadfast attachment to Vince McMahon and all he produces.

Perhaps it is nostalgia. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve a television, a VHS videotape and a red faced Hulk Hogan flexing his 21 inch pythons following a leg drop and 1-2-3 count.

Perhaps it is the simplicity of knowing who is good and who is evil. The crowd knows who to boo, and they do so on cue. Reality is rarely as black and white. And you know that it doesn't matter how beaten down the hero gets, they can overcome and snatch victory from the claws of defeat.

For some psychological or behavioural reason, I am attached to entertainment involving grown men and women in tights, badly imitating physical violence. My philosophy and standard justification for my fandom is as follows; not everything in life need be examined and analysed, especially when it evokes inexplicable joy. Let it remain inexplicable. And most important of all, don't try to demean the joy of others just because you don't understand it!

By the way- Undertaker vs HBK was a battle for the ages!