So Damien Sandow came out last night dressed like an interpretive dancer, and as expected, I lost my shit.
Just because no matter how old I get, seeing a grown man prancing around, straight-up Nutcracker style, is still laugh-out-loud funny. Probably because I'm from a generation of walled-up machismos who grew up howling at parodies like Men on Film.
Then my friend left me a voice mail in a growly, Kirk Lazarus voice: Never go full leotard.
I think it's important to recognize how successful Sandow has been in his new role as Creative's court jester. And I would imagine the correct response to "fans" who heckle him with tales of burials and blown chances, would be the same reply from Eva Marie, to the haters who chant "You can't wrestle!"
Keep laughing, because only one of us is on TV, living their dream, and it isn't you.
I had a similar conversation with a misguided patriot a few years back while I was keeping doors at my local watering hole. He would scowl and shake his head in sympathy every time the bus boy walked past, because "Juan" was working 60 hours a week for chump change.
But at least he was working.
Like the old saying goes, it's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. You think college grads are lining up to bus tables? Or mow lawns? Or pump gas? Of course not. We need guys like Juan, just like we need snot-nosed teens at Claires, because in order for the system to work, you need a diverse talent pool.
WWE needs athletes who can come out and grab a few laughs.
It also needs guys who can elevate jobbing to an art form. That's why Heath Slater, who will never be WWE champion, is gainfully employed, and why Zack Ryder continues to show up on television when the need arises. Hollywood has extras, as well as bit parts, and so too, does pro wrestling.
Non-leading man, Luiz Guzman, is short, chubby, and can't sing a lick.
It hasn't stopped him from appearing in over 125 different roles in both films and TV across the span of 30 years, while young, handsome, and classically-trained actors struggle to land a small part in the next erectile-dysfunction commercial.
Hi, I'm Preston Goodlooks. You may remember me from such infomercials as "Broken Cocks for Aging Jocks," and Docker's zipper safety ad, "Penis Fly Trap."
I specifically mentioned Slater because he's a shining example of a performer who understands that he fills a certain role. Instead of bitching about it or mailing it in, he goes out there and tries to be the best damn jobber in the world. And whether or not fans recognize it, the better the jobber, the more effective the squash.
Last night on RAW, Slater was sprawled across the metal grate of the entrance ramp after a particularly brutal spear from Roman Reigns, moaning unintelligibly as the camera panned his soft, white underbelly.
In jobber's terms, it was a tour de force!
Slater and his 3MBroskis should get a fruit basket from every up-and-coming talent who steps on them during their climb to the top, because when Slater's in town, they always get a big boost. And collateral credit to Pin'der Mahal and Drew Jobintyre, as well.
Which brings us back to Sandow.
He's 31 years old and in the prime of his career. I believe he still has a bright future ahead of him and let's face it, every top star has been asked to endure some questionable gimmicks at some point in time. All that matters is that the former velvet-robed "Savior" is on TV and the fans don't hate him.
Considering what a meat grinder the pro wrestling business is, there's not a whole lot more you can ask for.