Maybe then they’d actually stop relying on idiotic shit like that and, oh, I dunno, put some actual effort into, you know, creative and engaging storytelling and high quality wrestling matches.

No way in hell am I shedding tears at some dude dying in the process of epitomizing the reality and depth of his privilege in such an arrogant fashion.

He can do that shit because his wife and kids will be taken care of even in a worst case scenario.

He can do that shit because he doesn’t have to get up and perform the next night.

He can do that shit because it’s his daddies company.

He can do that shit because if he winds up permanently disabled and his “wrestling” career ends, his financial security doesn’t end with it.

His livelihood doesn’t live and die by the risks he takes. He doesn’t have to do shit like that and sacrifice his body in such horrific ways to build, make, or sustain his career. He’s afforded latitude real wrestlers are not for a hundred reasons and in a hundred ways and the consequences for something going terribly wrong are relatively minimal.

I wouldn’t have thrown a party if he died, but I certainly wouldn’t have mourned it as a real loss aside from the general empaty decent people feel for surviving wives and children in such situations.

I used to love things like this but as I grew older and gained a greater understanding of these things and developed a more mature perspective. It’s striking that the McMahon family cannot seem to grow and mature and move beyond such lowbrow, backward, and downright ignorant tactics to draw money because they’re too lazy or inept to put forth some effort on the creative side of things.

Everything about this represented everything wrong with the company from top to bottom and Shane dying or seriously hurting himself wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest because everyone involved should know better. Everyone involved should have lived and learned and be cognizant of the fact that everyone just plain dodged a bullet to come away from that era relatively healthy.

At the most basic level, this past year is a glaring reminder that WWE has gotten a little too big for their proverbial britches and they are as out of touch as they’ve ever been. This past year unequivocally proves that they rely far too heavily on too much smoke, too many mirrors and too many antiquated motifs up to and including the antiquated, aging talent riding shotgun with the cheap car crash tactics.

They shouldn’t need to lean on so many of these parlor tricks with the talent on that roster. This isn’t about wanting them to push all the super cool indy cats to the forefront, though that’s certainly part and parcel. This is ultimately about going further back in the time machine and utilizing more of the basic, tried-and-true techniques that built this industry to begin with. Call me an indy mark all day, but guys like Kevin Owens, Dolph Ziggler, Cesaro, Dean Ambrose, Nakamura, Sami Zayn, New Day (even with the more ridiculous aspects of their act), Enzo & Cass, shit even Baron Corbin all innately posses various qualities that have proven time and again to be reliable in getting over and connecting with crowds in ways that draw money.

Vince’s penchant for pageantry elevated the medium to the rampaging Titan (pun intended) it became in the mid to late 90’s, but in the mid 00’s he’s become so blinded by that pageantry to the point of pushing every other important element to the side and now we’ve reached a point where his son has to jump from nauseating heights and crash into a table just to tread water.

Hopefully they’ll have learned from this fiasco.

Hopefully they’ll turn a corner and put some creative muscle behind the pageantry again.

Hopefully they’ll realize that a major part of the entertainment quota can and should be filled with compelling storytelling revolving around the drama of talented men and women battling each other to prove who is better in a 20 by 20 ring in pursuit of a title. That will put more butts in seats more often and more consistently than watching the privileged son of a billionaire jump off high places and crash into a table once a year.

I realize I’ve wasted every last one of those words.
It is what it is.