Tuesday, April 27, 2004


I had hoped this wouldn't be necessary.
We need to start today by discussing the relationship of context to DUMB. Context is important. Things and people are dumb or not dumb based upon their setting, and the expectations of that setting. Politics is a context, for example.
The context of politics is that of leading a nation of nearly 300 million people in a society divided by race, class, and ideology. Within that context, the inability to testify without your Dick at your right hand qualifies you as a Major Dipshit Moron, while in the everyday context of general life, this would only mark you as odd, or mentally incompetent, or just get you yelled at by the judge.
So context is important. And just as there are contexts that raise the bar, there are contexts that lower the bar. Contexts where the dumb is the norm, and something has to be very dumb indeed to qualify as DUMB within that context. Like pro wrestling.
Editor's Note: Since this web site is entitled You Are Dumb, and not Bryan Justifies His Tastes To A Nation Of Ungrateful Bastards, there will be no explanation whatsoever of how or why any of the knowledge about to be expounded upon was acquired. So can it.
Which brings us, in a somewhat roundabout way, to Eugene, and why I am forced to issue a memo to the individuals involved in the creation of Eugene informing them that even in their own Special Olympics, they're coming in dead last, and may not deserve a hug at the finish line.
Eugene is a wrestler. Well, technically, Nick Dinsmore is a wrestler. By all accounts, a hard-working wrestler who's spent more time in the minor leagues waiting to be called up than anybody. Nick finally got the call, the call to fame, fortune, and national TV.
There's just one catch. He'd have to play a character. Specifically, "Eugene Dinsmore", mentally handicapped nephew of the evil general manager. The evil GM has been forced through his family connections to sign his nephew to a contract even though Eugene has to take the short bus to the arenas. And the Evil GM has pawned Eugene off on William Regal, the snooty upper-class Brit, who gets to be Eugene's manager.
For those unfamiliar with wrestling, the above scenario is roughly equivalent to: "Congratulations! You won the lottery! The only bad news is, yesterday, they started making dollars out of PIG SHIT. Where should the dump truck park?"
In the three weeks since his debut, Eugene has not wrestled. He has, however, run around, stuck his hands in his mouth, yelled his name, licked an announcer, put headphones on his head incorrectly, stolen a T-Shirt Gun *, shot his Brit manager and a referee in the crotch with T-shirts, and accidentally set off fireworks.
This story has two parts. The above part is the "depressing" kind of DUMB. The shake your head, cover your eyes with your hand, weep for the death of the spirit and the soul kind of DUMB. The rest of the story is the more traditional twitchy foamy hating kind.
ACTUAL QUOTE TIME! - WWE intends to portray the character of Eugene as a hero, as are the many people with disabilities around the world (many of whom are WWE fans) who must everyday face challenges to live the type of life many of us take for granted. Eugene, despite his disability, will get a chance to achieve his dream of becoming a professional wrestler. We hope that Eugene's story will encourage other people with disabilities to strive to achieve their dreams, whatever they may be. - This is what they told people who complained.
Now, I've been to a couple of live wrestling shows. I've seen the fans. The racist, homophobic, smelly, greasy, singing-along-with-Creed fans. And you know what? The three toothless guys in the third row, the ones that think it's still "real"? Even they're not dumb enough to fall for that bullshit. I've cringed, fast-forwarded, and waited for three weeks for something, ANYTHING, to happen with the Eugene character that wasn't completely reprehensible, and I haven't seen it yet. So to the creative staff of WWE, know that you have achieved your dream. You've done something so dumb that even by the standards of pro wrestling, YOU ARE DUMB. 
* I don't follow real sports, so I have no idea if I need to explain a pneumatic cannon that launches free promotional T-shirts to a ravenous, laundry-deprived crowd or not. I'm explaining it just in case.