Wrestlers don't go to war with Vince McMahon anymore because they can't win, which, looking at the rather sad sight of the man on SmackDown the other week, is some testament to his formidable ruthless streak.
Even before this unfolding global crisis, nobody went to war with Vince like the mad lads of the '80s and '90s, because the man happened upon a most effective strategy: he just told them to f*ck off, pal!
You want your release? The release our Co-President said we'd grant immediately, on public record? F*ck off!
Also: he can f*ck off, too!
The culture changed irrevocably, post-monopoly: there was nowhere to go but south of the strap of his belt. With an outrageous reservoir of resource, he could simply warehouse those he didn't - or couldn't - book. If there is one sliver of joy to take from this rampant, ugly capitalism, it's that Vince had to reconcile the idea that he was a spent force to justify not allowing Luke Harper and the Revival into Tony Khan's clutches.