Once, I heard the writer Walter Kirn interviewed on Fresh Air and he was saying how, when he was a teenager, Mormons came to the door and his parents let them in and before you know it, they converted. And Terry Gross was like, Whoa, Walter, hang on a minute, who lets Mormons in and then buys what they’re saying? And Walter said something like, You know, Terry, of the eighty qua-billion Make Your Penis Enormous spams that go out, there are at least a couple of takers. His parents happened to be in one of those vulnerable places so they fell for the crap. (Note: I am entitled to pronounce Mormonism crap. I was, I am not shitting you, once married to a Mormon. Fucking really.)...

Apparently, though, when other people hear the word wrestling, they think of something entirely different. They think of big scary men and faked-breasted women, the entire lot of them sporting spray-on tans, dangerous smirks, and very stretchy articles of “clothing” as they hurl each other around inside of a ring while thousands of mesmerized spectators, many of them apparently just having raced on over from Walmart and/or on furlough from Fashion Prison, scream their approval....