On a vaguely related note, today I stumbled across this video from independent pro wresting organization Next Era Wrestling, circa 2005. What it contains is a triple threat match in which one of the participants is clearly my luchador alter ego, El Cmar. The match is bad, and the videography is worse, but it’s worth watching at least the first few minutes to see El Cmar in all of his resplendent glory – in this case, a goofy white guy billed as being from Mexico wearing a football uniform with a luchador-style mask who’s ring entrance music is the “come on down!” tune from the Price Is Right.

Research indicates that El Cmar was active in at least two indy wrestling promotions during 2005, but is otherwise a mystery. While he is likely the masked identity of another wrestler who has (one can hope) moved on to bigger and better things, I would like to believe that El Cmar has crossed back south into Mexico, where he is giving syphilitic rudos hell to this very day.

When there are no more heroes, there are no more gladiators.

Why does it matter? Gladiators are, and have always been, an important measure of a society. They’re the ultimate expression of our collective base desires, our darker angels. Do we choose to elevate men and women of steel who cling to arcane concepts like honor and nobility, or do we just want to get smashed out of our fat fucking consumerist skulls and give market shares to an unskilled Aryan gorilla and his corporate puppet masters?

Matt has captured the great spirit of an important thing, shaped it into words, and made them do his bidding.