Several weeks ago Seanbaby found an issue of Poxco Regional Wrestling Magazine lodged molecularly in the wall of his penis reduction shed. “What?” you might ask. Well, it’s a laboratory a San Francisco County judge ordered to be built on his propert– oh, you meant “what” like “how did a wrestling magazine glitch across dimensional barriers?” Well, it’s hard to overstate the amount of trauma we are inflicting on reality by calling attention to things like Troom Troom and Christian self-defense books on a daily bas– oh, you meant “what” like “I wasn’t listening, can you repeat the first sentence?” No problem; we found a cursed magazine and inside we discovered what might be the most cursed of nerd hobbies:
Wrestling By Mail.
Players of wrestling by mail send in the name and description of a wrestler, along with a selection of moves and a small fee, to someone who decides if they win an imaginary, imaginary fights against crudely drawn league veterans. For readers who don’t know anything about wrestling or role playing or postal mail, this is like training a gorilla to draw pictures of women and offering it $11 for one of their hands in marriage. It’s way too many steps to reach only embarrassment, and we love it. It’s perfect and we’re doing it. Right now. With virtually no modernizing of the concept, technology, or process, 1-900-HOTDOG is launching its own Wrestling By Mail championship tournament. Entering it is simple: if you’re reading this, you’ve always been able to submit a wrestler. If you have a heart, it’s always been able to yearn to be champion. And if you’re a bitch ass coward, go do something else…