Neil’s Highlight Reel: The WWE and Sin City

Reintegrating myself into society is always a struggle when coming back from Vegas, where days and nights mesh together as you pass the time drinking and gambling hours on end.  That first Monday morning back – which is when I’m writing this now – is always the worst.  Sleep is really hard to come by the Sunday night before (I got zero last night), and by one o’clock the next day I can think of nothing else but getting back home and crashing on my bed to recoup some of the many Z’s I’d lost. Vegas is good for you in a way though… most of the things you can make do without, you do.  The internet is usually the first thing people give up, and as shown above, oversleeping would most definitely be the second sacrifice.  But for me though, it really surprised me how bothered I was that I missed out on a whole week’s worth of WWE television.

Now, one would think that Mr. Kennedy’s release – which came only the day before I left for my trip – would be the straw that broke the camel’s back for yours truly, forcing me to leave the WWE the way a battered wife would leave an abusive husband.  As strange as this sounds though – considering that I’d gladly present myself for Mr. Kennedy Anderson should we ever bump into each other – I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.  Unfortunately, I had to keep my priorities straight (see: strippers, degenerative gambling, drinking), so WWE had to wait until I returned to my glorious DVR.  In the meantime though, while I was  doing whatever I was doing in that city that God forgot to watch over, this sickie couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the WWE and Sin City, which really aren’t that different.

For instance, MVP and the Luxor (above) are identical in every which way. The Luxor is a brilliant black pyramid with a light coming out the top point that shines all the way up to the night sky.  On the inside though, the Luxor is as boring as Sunday Night baseball on ESPN, with a very Old Vegas look they couldn’t get rid of even after renovations.  MVP himself is a beautiful black man (as far as Sherri Shepherd is concerned), whose potential is indeed sky-high.  He’s certainly flashy outside the ring, but when he gets inside the ropes, no matter how many new moves he’s come up with, he’s the same sluggish guy we’ve seen before.  Uncanny ain’t it?

Another two things that can’t be more similar between Vegas and the WWE? Guys on the strip handing out hookers’ business cards and Vince McMahon’s childish sense of humor.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about when it comes to the former, allow me to explain.  About every other block on the strip there are guys handing out business card-sized pictures of a naked hooker and her number to every passerby.  These guys are really the scum of the earth in the sense that they’re making money off of some perv paying somebody for sex, which in my opinion is one of the worst things a man can do.  Vince McMahon’s sense of humor isn’t really all that different.  Little people are clearly not off limits for him.  Playing up to different races’ stereotypes is something he’s infamous for, and hell, even incest – one of the most vile topics in a normal society, is an idea he’s toyed with on multiple occasions in the past.  You’re not funny Vince… not even close.  In fact, you need help.

Planet Hollywood, my favorite casino of all, and Randy Orton, my favorite current WWE wrestler of all, have all the same qualities.  PH has a little something for everybody – a great gambling atmosphere, pole dancers + barely-dressed women dealing games, and a low-key club to boot for those who just want to hang out and have a good time.  Randy Orton, as you’ve probably surmised by now, also has everything you could imagine – a strong mic presence along with a convincing character, a personalized set of moves that fit well with most other wrestlers, and intangibles that I can’t begin to count.  Both have everything going for them at the moment, and really stand out from the crowd.

Okay, I’m all done with my comparisons now.  This whole idea was probably a stretch, but I may as well get this all out of my system now rather than later.  I promise I’ll get back to my Mr. Kennedy-obsessing, WWE-smearing daily programming next time.

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