Surrealism, Thy Name Is WWE

Eddie Guerrero–a wrestler I enjoyed watching when I got back into rasslin’ from 1999-2002 (or thereabouts)–died yesterday in his hotel room. He was 38, and my immediate guess is that he had a heart attack probably related to his steroid-fueled massivity.

Eddie used to do a great frog splash from the top of the ropes. This move unfortunately led to his dislocating his elbow one time, which was awfully grotesque. He came back from that injury with an absolutely massive physique.

I tuned into the beginning of WWE Raw tonight to see how they’d pay tribute to him (it’s a live show). I felt like I was in Crisis on Infinite Earths, as massive men in vinyl masks stood crying on stage. Ric Flair, in a purple-and-silver feathered robe, tries to look stoic, but lip quivering. A 7-foot-tall (?) monster walks to the ring trying to smile, but his eyes are red and puffy. Vince McMahon stutters at the beginning, about to cry, but recovers.

They’re trying to perform, but the crowd’s completely quiet. Time for Monday Night Football…

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