Around 10 years ago, I spent a weekend reliving my teenage times by renting a couple of ’90s World Wrestling Federation (WWF) pay-per-views. I didn’t make my then-girlfriend watch them with me, but she received indirect exposure—for the first time. Apparently it’s a lot to take in: the strutting egos, the acrobatic violence, the melodrama, the bombast. She advised that while most of my hobbies and interests were respectable, this one really was “the dumbest thing ever.” It’s OK if […]
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