Dear Randy Savage,
Hi Mr. Savage. My name is Cewsh. I’m sure you don’t know me (despite that one time I was totally sure I bumped into you in the bathroom of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Rock Concert in the early 90s) but in case you weren’t aware you passed away recently, and before you left for good I wanted to send you a letter to let you know what you’ve meant to me over the years. You may have more important things to do at the moment like choosing a cool house to haunt, or seeing if you can possess Hulk Hogan, but take some time aside, if you will, to go back in time with me. I promise we wont talk about the rap thing. Honest.
Once upon a time when I was just a wee little Cewsh hanging out over at my redneck buddy’s house while his hung over, alcoholic dad did his best to babysit us from the other room by occasionally yelling helpful tips like “If someone breaks into the house, make sounds like a big dog so they’ll go away!” and “If I stop breathing, remember to take me to the nice hospital, the one with all the Jews!”, my friend and I were sitting around watching tv, flipping through the channels, when all of sudden who should appear there than you yourself. As I recall, you were decked out in some eye wrenching combination of neon orange and lime green that made my jaw drop. For the life of me I can’t recall what you were talking about that day, but on that day, on that that terrible shag carpeting in a house with no air conditioning in the middle of summer, you gave me my very first taste of professional wrestling.
Now I wish I could say that you inspired me to become a Macho Maniac right off the bat, but the truth is that my mom was less than impressed with professional wrestling (she was of the opinion that it involved stupid naked men grunting at each other, which really isn’t that far off). So until I saw my friend again at the start of the next school year I hardly thought of wrestling or, indeed, yourself. But then when I did, upon our shamefully pilfering a copy of the 1991 Survivor Series from our school library (which, now that i’m thinking about it, really had no reason to have that in the first place) I never looked back. The personalities and the action completely fascinated me, and you yourself foremost of all with your wild outfits, wilder interviews and breathtaking matches taking center stage in my mind as a young lad. From then on I feverishly collected everything wrestling related that I could, from VHS tapes (remember those?) to action figures, to those pillows shaped like wrestlers. I’m not ashamed to say that a pillow with your likeness on it dueled a similar Ultimate Warrior headrest on many a night as a youngster. I’m not ashamed because it was AWESOME.
As the years went on and I grew up, I lost touch with your career. You went to WCW, and I didn’t even know what WCW WAS until WWE bought them in 2001. I hear you did great things there, and i’ve seen many of them since, but let’s not dwell there. Times weren’t great there for you towards the end, though they weren’t really great for anyone. After that you didn’t do much at all. You showed up in TNA briefly, did some commercials, stole the movie when you were in Spiderman, and recorded a rap alb…err, I mean, yeah. Did some stuff. You were never welcomed home to WWE, and all of your fans and peers will be questioning why until the end of our days. Consequently, now that you’re dead, its totally okay to tell me. So did you actually sleep with Stephanie when she was underage? Just between us guys. C’mooooon.
Anyway, so then, some time after that, you passed away. And ultimately the legacy that you left is a confusing one. You were one of the greatest performers who ever lived or who ever will live. Your matches were astounding, your interviews were confounding and your charisma was abounding from every pore. Despite the fact that there were many, many dark periods in your life, you are universally adored, above nearly anyone else who ever shared your profession. And even though you haven’t stepped into a ring in nearly a decade, you are probably the single most recognizable wrestling personality on the planet earth. You could walk up to a 5 year old boy in China and go OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHH, and that small child will curl in his lip, point at you and say, in his best gravelly voice, “它挖出來!”
You left behind legions of fans that you will never know how much you meant to, and generations of wrestlers who will strive to live up to your accomplishments. And somewhat more importantly for yours truly, you left behind one little wrestling fan who has wrestling in his blood now and can’t ever let it go, who started a blog for other such disturbed individuals. It all started with you, Mr. Savage. So wherever you go from here, whether it will be haunting the Slim Jim packages at 7-11 or simply taking a much deserved vacation, have no doubt that in your name we will take it to the limit.
P.S. Thank you for stopping that whole Rapture thing from happening. It was really very nice of you.