I feel your pain, Kim Kardashian. The Internet is a cruel mistress, and she forgets nothing.
We’re not too different, you and I. We both mean well. But when someone Googles our name, they see our skeletons on full display.
With you, they can quite literally see your skeleton. Your buxom, heavenly body engaging in unspeakable acts with a guy who is famous for being Brandy’s brother. Your sex tape will forever be the world’s to see whenever they feel so inclined; a night cap for many an exploratory young man or creepy older gentleman. For the rest of time.
And I feel your pain. When someone Google’s my name, they will quickly learn that I am a fan of professional wrestling.
Your problems don’t seem so extreme now, do they Kim?
Until the Internet crashes or we all die a fiery, terrible death all at once, a Web search for my name will bring up several instances of my contributions to this very pro wrestling site. I cringe when imagining how many potential employers have already blacklisted my name as a result.
And by “potential employers,” I mean pretty girls.
It’s tough enough being a wrestling fan. Hell, I can’t even say the words “tough enough” without thinking of the WWE reality show that begat Maven and The Boogeyman. It is a cross to bear to say the very least. And yet I persist in writing about it, being the masochist that I am. I may as well get a tattoo of Triple H across my forehead.
But you know what? It’s all about the game, and how you play it. You should never be ashamed of your hobbies, your interests, or the person you are in general. Shame is a far greater crime than being a dork. To deny myself the guilty pleasure of watching greasy men in costumes beat the shit out of each other would be to deny the very essence of my soul.
The same goes for you, Ms. Kardashian. You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that video of yours. Why hide it from the world? Stick to your guns. Do what you love and love what you do. Might I even suggest filming another one? It’s not as if you have anything left to hide at this point.
And nor do I. Pro wrestling has been an interest of mine since I was 10 years old. Yeah, I’ve been to Wrestlemania. Yes, I’ve staged wrestling matches with my friends. And now I’m a contributor to a wrestling blog named after a wrestling leprechaun. To quote B-Rabbit in the climax of 8 Mile, “Here, tell these people something they don’t know about me.”
To all my fellow marks, I encourage you to wear your stripes with pride. Consider them your ring attire, as you approach the squared circle of life, theme music blaring and pyro shooting from the ring posts. Tens of millions of wrestling fans can’t be wrong. It’s still real to us, dammit!