A fair number of wrestlers are probably going to hell, if in fact it exists.
They are liars by trade. The racket has spewed forth a litany of criminals, some of which have committed the worst, most unimaginable atrocities.
Even the Seven Heavenly Virtues of wrestling are asterisked with cynicism. Vince McMahon appeared to exhibit charity, by underwriting the costs of rehabilitation treatments offered to his former independent contractors, but said the quiet part loud to the Oversight and Government Reform Committee. "Two words: public relations" is how he explained his policy.
Wrestling itself does not practise temperance. The travelling circus never stops to allow its performers to heal. Justice is obviously not practised, either. If it were, we wouldn't have had to put up with Ed Leslie headlining Starrcade 1994. Mick Foley famously practised fortitude, but that probably doesn't count. Traumatising one's family doesn't exactly seem virtuous, though he once smashed a portable telly in protest against bad WWE booking, which can possibly be interpreted as "brave endurance". Long-suffering fans of RAW therefore might be guaranteed sage passage. In reality, virtue barely exists anywhere.
Wrestling is overflowing with sin...
7. Sloth: Vince McMahon
Derived from the latin "acedia" ("without care") this works, but it also doesn't, in that Vince McMahon actively tries very hard to make a terrible and lazy television show.
Vince McMahon's 2021 output however is the closest link to the brief. The work intensive process seems horrendous, from the outside looking in: a group of writers spend much of the week frantically guessing what their lunatic of a boss might hold an interest in, and it's not as if his tastes are wide-ranging. Why is a distraction finish and a rematch or two acceptable one week, and enough to inspire a conniption fit the next?
It's the same show every week whether he goes apesh*t or not.
Vince goes ham with the red pen, frequently changing every other episode of RAW at the last minute, but he's not exactly a perfectionist. And if he is, he's a sh*tty one, since he literally hasn't changed the format of the show this century. Maybe he's perfecting dog sh*t? It's a strange thing to perfect, but he technically is refining it and beavering away.
You know the format: the convenient squabbling in a long, fake-feeling promo segment draws out the authority figure, who didn't have a main event planned, and then makes a main event. The main event more often than not doesn't have a finish, because they're saving the one that counts for the pay-per-view.
Everybody's John Cena. Everybody is a master of ceremonies. Every match is worked at the same pace.
Everything is the same all the time because your investment means nothing.
Vince McMahon embodies sloth and is going to hell.