The only explanation for WWE's persistence with trying to make the deathly-dull Charles Wright a "thing" was his friendship with The Undertaker. The one-time voodoo practitioner and Bone Street Krew boy was turned into an MMA supremo for attempt two, based not any legitimate fighting skills, but the vaguest of resemblances to UFC bruiser Kimo Leopoldo.
The latest scrape of the barrel did little for the newly rechristened Kama. The gimmick had no potential to shoot Wright into the stratosphere, and all the potential to undermine 'fake' wrestling. In the end, it did neither; thankfully, the 'Supreme Fighting Machine' didn't use his prowess to punch through his phony challengers, but instead stole an ornamental urn. He eventually struck gold with a feathered cap and a train of women of negotiable affection. It only took seven years.
Benjamin was born in 1987, and is still not dead. He variously enjoys classical music, old-school adventure games (they're not dead), and walks on the beach (albeit short - asthma, you know).
He's currently trying to compile a comprehensive history of video game music, yet denies accusations that he purposefully targets niche audiences. He's often wrong about these things.