Raised in a trailer, viciously beaten by his stepfather, sexually abused by his mother. Overcoming dyslexia, fighting in the streets, meeting his father for the first time at the age of twelve. Petty crime to military school to court martial and finally taking the first baby steps towards working in his father's wrestling promotion. That's the first twenty or so years of Vincent Kennedy McMahon's life: the formative years, the ones that sculpt and shape the person you'll end up becoming, rightly or wrongly. There's no doubt that McMahon is an unusual kind of guy - he's famously a chronic workaholic, sleeping for around three hours a night for decades now. He's elevated his father's wrestling promotion into an internationally famous multimedia corporation - to many people, WWE is synonymous with wrestling, literally just another word for it - and he spends every waking hour working on that business, yet his endgame seems to involve moving away from wrestling completely, leveraging that successful business in order to finance non-wrestling activities and side projects... most of which have failed. He's become a father, a billionaire, lost a small fortune on paper and gone back to being a multi-millionaire, become a grandfather, bet big and become a billionaire again. He's turned seventy this year with 5% body fat, capable of chest-pressing 450lbs: literally, a self-made man. These are some of the oddest stories about one of the oddest men in the world.
Professional writer, punk werewolf and nesting place for starfish. Obsessed with squid, spirals and story. I publish short weird fiction online at desincarne.com, and tweet nonsense under the name Jack The Bodiless. You can follow me all you like, just don't touch my stuff.
