Flair arrives early, Bobby begins a panic-attack masterclass, and a mute Manchurian becomes the voice of reason.

A tear in Flair's eye, a tantrum from Hogan, and Sid ruining a friendship because summer softball waits for no man.

Lance Russell, aggressive Speedos, and proof regional wrestling ran on felony copyright infringement.

Like the discount retailer: mostly intact, aggressively discounted, and buried beneath a bin of shit.

Where the stories made sense, the ring sounded like gunfire, and every promo needed permission to tell you something.

Scrambled porn, Terry Funk, and a wrestling show that looked like the electric bill was past due

Jim Cornette talks shit, JYD has “it,” and Mid-South Wrestling crams a week of acton into an hour.

The origin story nobody asked for, explaining who failed to stop this, and why old wrestling still has its hooks in me.

The only true heel in wrestling beats a brave, albeit delusional, chicken farmer within an inch of his life.

Actual questions can be sent in. Until then, I’m answering questions from criminals. 

Seriously, go look.

Things more exciting than AWA All-Star Wrestling: literally everything, including a Minnesota meat raffle.

Unsafe exercise, one perfect promo, and the question wrestling has never answered: 

Why Ed Leslie?

One gym pic, bad weight math, and a plea to not ruin a perfectly good meat tank.

Eight world titles, a handle of vodka, and a bet nobody has shit to say about the trailer-park blond perm.

Cody Rhodes, Jey Uso, seven “finishers,” and a bold investigation into whether walking to the ring has officially become the product.

Zack Sabre Jr. attacks an arm, Jack Perry remembers to sell it, and this old man who usually yells at clouds is forced to nod respectfully.

1975 International Wrestling Association

Softball helmets, bruised spinal cords, and Tex McKenzie operating on a permanent three second delay.