Pro wrestling and the wider entertainment industry share an unbalanced relationship.
The wider entertainment industry is generally unconcerned about pro wrestling, and pro wrestling plunges the bunny of the wider entertainment industry into boiling hot water. WWE's aspirational mainstream legitimacy has resulted in brilliance, granted, but mostly pathetic bullsh*t.
Pathetic bullsh*t in the form of the Guest Host era, most infamously. Jeremy Piven treated the gig with such disdain that he didn't even bother himself to remember the name of WWE's second-biggest pay-per-view. A visibly uncomfortable Al Sharpton, meanwhile, displayed less pro wrestling nous than even Jonathan Coachman. A big gigantic hand once f*cked on Ted DiBiase. Jr., much to Johnny Knoxville's amusement, or at least, that was the intention. He looked less comfortable here than he did when he broke his urethra in a dirt bike stunt gone awry. The Guest Host Era has receded in the hate circuit of brains everywhere. Those memories have dulled. Everything feels worse now, but it was probably as worse then.
"Here are some uninterested celebrities you aren't interested in, either, showing tacit disgust for that sh*t you've invested in your whole life!"
This dynamic has been subverted on (weird) (and one wonderful) occasion...