So, I’m sitting here finally watching “The Wrestler” and as I watch this guy torture himself, his body, and others, my eyes began to wander to the crowd in the film. All of the cheering, jeering, jabbing and stabbing of their own kind, from the wrestlers and the spectators, alike, fuel the “beat-downs” that take place for their own pleasure. And as my eyes began to wander, my mind followed.
I thought about how I used to love to watch wrestling when I was a little girl, especially with my dad. But even when he wasn’t home, I found myself sitting in front of the tube yelling and screaming to “Hit him!” “Beat him!” “Yes!” “Yes”! Cheering on my boy Rick Flair, Pretty Boy Floyd, the Giant..all of the old school boys of wrestling. My adrenaline raced through my body … filling me with the pleasure of being naturally high… it was invigorating and addicting…all from watching someone get beat up. It was euphoria…an awesome time in my life…so I thought. Until, one day, my dad told me that all of what I was watching was fake. Fake?!!!!! I couldn’t believe it! What?! Fake?! I hated knowing that information. Do you mean to tell me that all of this brutality that I was screaming for was fake? Do you mean that they never heard any of my screaming? Is that possible? Do you mean to tell me that even with the wonderful invention of this thing called a television set, they couldn’t hear me?! I thought they heard me for sure when I gave them commands….they always did what I told them to do. “Hit him!” I screamed! Crash-a chair over the head. “Crush him!” I yelled! He flies in the air, across the canvas and lands full-bodied on top of the helpless victim beneath, FAKING to be unconscious. But, after watching wrestling with my dad who gave me a play by play of each fake, blow, throw, and kick … and after seeing all that he pointed out to me with my own eyes, I was finally convinced. It was fake. Man (head down in disappointment), what a bummer. I never watched wrestling again.
I have never been violent. I have always been a protector, but for some reason, I thought of the viciousness that could have been developed in me if I had kept watching. I’m so glad that I turned and walked away. The terrible abuse these wrestlers put themselves through to please us is sad. I don’t find any joy in it, fake or non-fiction. But, then again, maybe it’s not “joy” that people are seeking. Maybe it’s something else. What do you think?
Despite being at peace about my non-violent characteristic, I’m bothered by the different forms of abuse that continue to take place on the big screen and live and in person. The beat downs that occur in the cages that are not fake. The wrestling matches that still take place today but the wrestlers are bigger, tougher, meaner, and more fragile. Full of drugs and the unrelenting need to be needed and loved by someone [or simply pay the bills]…from strangers who have paid to see them torment their bodies to little 5-year-old girls and boys who are their biggest fans. Do they think its fake? Does the 5-year-old know that it’s fake and are the adults who KNOW that it may be fake the grown-up version of the 5-year olds of yesteryear? In other words, because they didn’t turn away, are these victims, perpetrators now addicted to the brutality as adults? Did some sort of breeding take place when they weren’t looking?
Let me just close by saying this… when I watch, this movie, fights in the cages, wrestling matches, what have you, for some reason, images of vicious pit bulls eating raw meat crosses my mind. I think of the way, the process works … a breeder starves a non-raw meat-eating animal until the animal won’t eat anything else, even if it’s the raw meat of its own species. As this image passes through my mind, simultaneously, in the other lane going in a different direction, my mental highway is flooded with visions of a time where there was once fake blood fed to the human animal. Now, because of our vicious appetite that has been bred and fed over the years, we long/yearn for real blood. And we get it! In the boxing rings and wrestling rings … and the blood spills over onto the Jerry Springer Show, Maury Povich … and the blood continues to overflow onto the Internet onto Youtube where you can now see blood spilled for free—girls beating each other up, parents beating coaches, parents beating parents, even children beating their own parents. Live, Tv, or the Internet…take your pick. It’s there waiting for you.
So, I’m left with this question, have we become vampires of viciousness who cares not about its next victim? What happens when there is no more blood? What will we crave next? What are we being bred for next? When, where, and how does it stop? Are we allowing this form of brutality to continue because we are living vicariously through them-letting someone else do what we really feel-the dirty work? Are we sitting there wishing it was our boss they were beating up, our girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, mother, father, a simple stranger? Strange question, I know, but I think it could be possible, for some. Or are we just that animalistic, inconspicuously craving and being fed raw viciousness as a group so that none of us will be singled out? HHmmm.
And as you’re contemplating these questions and others as you bend down to pick up the excrement of the animal that you own, instantaneously making you slave and your animal master, ask yourself this … if we are just as violent as they are, what makes us better than them, the animals? Are we better than them because we can think about it first and then act-out? Does that make us more intelligent or more vicious than the everyday, 4-legged beast or pet, depending upon the breeding. HHmmmm-something to think about and get offended by while sipping a cup of tea. Just asking.
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