10 WWE Things That Are Impossible To Believe In

TL;DR: Everything.

The Miz And Maryse
WWE.com

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...

10. Commentary

The Miz And Maryse
WWE.com

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.

Contributor
Contributor

Michael Sidgwick is an editor, writer and podcaster for WhatCulture Wrestling. With over seven years of experience in wrestling analysis, Michael was published in the influential institution that was Power Slam magazine, and specialises in providing insights into All Elite Wrestling - so much so that he wrote a book about the subject. You can order Becoming All Elite: The Rise Of AEW on Amazon. Possessing a deep knowledge also of WWE, WCW, ECW and New Japan Pro Wrestling, Michael’s work has been publicly praised by former AEW World Champions Kenny Omega and MJF, and surefire Undisputed WWE Universal Champion Cody Rhodes. When he isn’t putting your finger on why things are the way they are in the endlessly fascinating world of professional wrestling, Michael wraps his own around a hand grinder to explore the world of specialty coffee. Follow Michael on X (formerly known as Twitter) @MSidgwick for more!