WWE's popularity woes are genuinely cathartic.
It's as if karma actually exists, contrary to relentlessly grim evidence beyond this bag, daft, meaningless wrestling bubble. WWE sucks sh*t right now, and it is reflected in the ratings and Network subscriber count. And this isn't noble failure stuff, in which long-term ideas haven't panned out. WWE genuinely resents you and, what's more, is placing the blame at your feet, and not the 74 year-old lunatic doing wacky whoa-oh! noises at the swerving, jewel-encrusted wheel.
They don't think of you as a discerning audience. They don't think of you as a valued audience.
On this week's RAW, they on multiple occasions described you as a "finicky" audience. "Finicky," for f*ck's f*cking sake. This was clearly a directive muttered under Vince McMahon's breath, as he sat there like the dog between flames in that meme he'll discover in about 40 years.
You're just fussy, did you know that? You are finicky. You're just aloof and spoiled and unwilling to engage with the hilarious comedy being served to you. It's a goddamn dog's head and it's barkin' like a bitch, pal, don't you get it? Lighten up, Francis!
WWE deserves this. It sh*t on your face, and it's too dumb to wipe its own ass.
Other times, though...