I will begin the odyssey that is Smarkdom with the golden rule of Smarkitude- Know your role. How does one know one's role? Stick with the Casshole to find out.
Raven said it best- "Sure, you are a smart mark, but you are still a fucking mark." So true. None of us have walked in a wretler's shoes. None of us are at risk of serious death on a daily basis for the sake of entertainment. We are the fat little consumer that drink up their sugary sludge and cry for more, more, more!
On the otherhand, these guys are eating off our dime, so they better entertain.
A clear role relationship has been established- the wrestlers wrestle for our hard earned money. Promotions come to town with our favorite wrestlers, we pay to see the wrestler. "Our second favorite wrestler is on PPV? Lets check it out!"
In essence, the wrestlers don't owe the fans anything beyond the minute the show is over. Likewise, fans don't owe a wrestler anything the minute they think his product smells like poop.
Stone Cold don't owe me nothing, I don't owe Stone Cold nothing. Just the way we like it.
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