Micro Wrestling

There’s very few times in my life where I’ve had to sit back and ask myself, “How the fuck did I get here?” Today might be one of those days. I’m currently sitting in a lawn chair, in bumble fuck nowhere, watching Micro Wrestling. To avoid using offensive language, I’ll describe Micro Wrestling as WWE for little people. I’ve always hated WWE. I don’t know what it is, I think the fake shitty acting doesn’t really do it for me. I would love to tell you Micro Wrestling is slightly better than its professional counterpart. I can confirm it’s not. No offense to Chief Little Foot and Micro Jackson, you have spectacular names, but I don’t think I can do this again. It’s just a bizarre scene. A stage in the backyard of a saloon, with hundreds of people. The twelve year olds all wearing MAGA hats, the Trump cardboard cutouts (ear somehow still intact), and the “Kill Joe and The Hoe ‘24” bumper stickers are the best way to paint a picture of this place in your head. The people watching is certainly better than watching the ongoing Micro Wrestling. I won’t deny that there is some funny shit going on. People under five feet tall and over 200 pounds wrestling is pretty comedic. My dad is eating this up. He’s sitting front row with his camera with the slightest smirk on his face. He looks like a kid in the candy shop. Micro Jackson (derived from the great Michael Jackson) is currently doing a half time show. Three foot four and he throws it around. I missed the real Michael Jackson having dreads, but Micro Jackson does and it works. He proved Billie Jean is generational. I’m going to try and enjoy the rest of this scene. Happy Wednesday everyone!