10 WWE Things That Are Impossible To Believe In

Suspension of disbelief is the tenet on which pro wrestling was built.

It had to be, given the inherent artifice of the medium; a simulated form of combat that unravels under the scantest of scrutiny - hence why so much of the populace is aghast at its very existence - those open to its charms require a form of world-building necessary to keep their interest in the enterprise from falling apart at the seams. If this meticulous world-building isn't in place, the promotion itself falls apart, which is how one arrives at Goldberg refusing to go up for powerbombs.

Jerry Jarrett's booking philosophy was genius in its simplicity: If you can persuade the audience to believe Plausible Premise A, they will more likely be receptive to Implausible Premises B and C. This used to be the case in the old WWF, even with a patently absurd cast of characters dominating the landscape. With cards set in advance, governed by a man of great authority in Jack Tunney, you could just about allow yourself to believe that a state athletic commission wouldn't balk at it. Even if you balk at the idea of conflating traditional pro wrestling with sport, ludicrous pro wrestling, too, requires internal consistency. Lucha Underground makes more sense in its own context that WWE does in the context of WWE.

Suspension of disbelief has fallen apart in 2018, even if WWE's immense corporate financing means it hardly matters...

While misty-eyed recollections of the Attitude Era are often the preserve of the forgetful, there was something magical about JR and the King's commentary. JR's moral compass steered the rampant WWF just far enough away from the gutter, his passion doing so much to immerse the crowd into the action. The King meanwhile was a terrific, giddy wit in his pomp. Sharing a wonderful, ineffable chemistry, Ross and Lawler were as invested as the white hot crowds, creating a wonderful cacophony.

Michael Cole is an automaton bellowing emotionless marketing jargon (and, to stretch the comparison further, Charly Caruso and Dasha Fuentes are actual robots assembled on literally the same production line).

You cannot believe a word Cole is saying despite the best efforts at repetition we can only infer is used to bludgeon us into acceptance. Vince McMahon's infamous aversion to pronouns, pal doesn't help. With this mentality married to Stephanie McMahon's marketing checklist, the result is an endless churn of nicknames and clichés made even more unbearable than it appears on the surface; they do this because they deem the audience too stupid to grasp what is hardly arthouse cinema. The irony is that this method of "storytelling" only serves to "create separation" between the desk and the armchair.

Unenthusiastic; repetitive; insulting to the intelligence: WWE commentary is propaganda without the conviction. Unlistenable, at its worst.