definitely not a jabroni

"When the hero or the villain of the drama, the man who was seen a few minutes earlier possessed by moral rage, magnified into a sort of metaphysical sign, leaves the wrestling hall, impassive, anonymous, carrying a small suitcase and arm-in-arm with his wife, no one can doubt that wrestling holds the power of transmutation which is common to the Spectacle and to Religious Worship. In the ring, and even in the depths of their voluntary ignomity, wrestlers remain gods because they are, for a few moments, the key which opens Nature, the pure gesture which separates Good from Evil, and unveils the form of a Justice which is at last intelligible." - Roland Barthes, The World of Wrestling 

There's a reason why Roland Barthes' essay on wrestling is found in his aptly titled collection, Mythologies. Is a myth not the very definition of a "spectacle of excess"? Gods, monsters and a slew of otherworldly beings thrive in the realm of myths.

A wrestler's conveyed personality (with all its manifestations and exaggerated gestures, either through physical appearance or catchphrases) determines his or her power in the ring. When the aforementioned attributes fail to mesh coherently, the audience conveys confusion (or worse: complete apathy.) And without an audience, the wrestler (man or woman) is, as the Iron Sheikh famously proclaimed, a Jabroni. There are no Jabronis in Olympus.

I was a big fan of wrestling growing up due to its absurd dramatics and characters (to me, they weren't even people...they were always 'characters.') Personalities like Mick Foley (who had a planned appearance at a Shark Convention in Tampa last year but failed to show up, much to my disappointment) kept the imagination of my messed-up kindergarten brain alive.

Here is Mankind (AKA Foley) experiencing a tumble from Mount Olympus: