"Freebear, Freebear! What are your thoughts on what Johnny D. said about you on WWA Insider?"
"No comments"
"Mr. Freebear: how does it feel being the only one still giving a shit about his matches?"
"NO comments."
"Mr. Freebear!!! You think Johnny D. is the same handler who wrote that solipsist character? You know, Mason Ryan? Pretty sure I got the name wrong but you know what I'm saying?"
The American Freebear rolled his eyes. Truth was, he started all this metacontextual bullcrap and he was the first one to regret it. Exiting the gym and squeezing himself into his tiny car, Freebear nonetheless tried answering as many reporters as possible for what might possibly be the last match the WWA would present.
It wasn't about the company, he tried repeatedly to explain. It wasn't even about any personal grudge with Johnny D. It was about doing what's right. Doing what was necessary to give the fans what they paid for. Though no one ever considered the American Freebear this great big wrestling technician, he learned to respect and honor this business that gave him the opportunity to travel the world and follow up on his childhood dream.
More importantly, he learned not to pay too much attention to the crazy rambling philosopher dude who seriously brought up motherfuckin' latin into a wrestling promo. No seriously, Freebear was concerned that he crossed some wayward fool lost on his way to the Summarize Proust competition at this point. He understood Johnny to the point that he's a disabused ex-army soldier turned philosophy major who joined the wrestling circuit for whatever reason... After which everything else got all blooey. Well, not everything.
Freebear heard John Dionysus disparage the American Dream.
Freebear understood John Dionysus bad mouth the good ol' U. S. of A!!!
"Oh I'm gonna show this asshole what wrestling's all about!!!"
The whole thing was besides the point because the American Freebear is at heart this wanderlust-stricken child who wanted to travel around the world since he was but a young boy and only managed to do so thanks to professional wrestling's circus-like schedule... but let us never throw away a good opportunity to chant USA!!!
"U. S. A! U. S. A! U. S. A! U. S. A! U. S. A! U. S. A! U. S. A! U. S. A!"
A familiar sound during Freebear matches, one that never dulled no matter how many times he heard it. This wasn't his first fight with some strange individual who'd figured out a way to be completely different from everything this noble sport was built upon, and this wouldn't be the first time he'd bury some imaginary young fool underneath his body mass. Not that the Freebear had anything against imaginative ideas, it's just that these imaginative ideas still had to justify their relevance as to why wrestling fans would want to shell out their hard earned money to see the show in question.
Freebear shuddered at the thought of a crowd of philosophy professors assembled to debate the moral implications of using a bionic elbow in the middle of a match. Brrrrr!!!
Truth be told, the American Freebear was tired of trying to make sense of Johnny D.'s ramblings. For example, how can hope be the quintessential human strength in the face of its inherent futility- shouldn't what you fight for have inherent value if not to you then to those around you for hope to have prior meaning? And why he so mad about a priori truths when his whole promo amounts to I'm gonna beat you? To be quite blunt, big ol' Freebear considered that the theoretical implications of philosophy had reached their limits and was now personally more concerned about their practical applications. In as much that he wanted to squash Johnny D. underneath his 328 pound frame. You know, with the moonsault thingy. Fucking tired of checking wikipedia for dead philosophers.
"Reckon I'll vision the future the same way soothsayers from times gone by made their predictions.... Checkin' through the guts of my opponents!!!"
So the American Freebear made his way for... wherever the Hell Meltdown was supposed to take place. In wrestling, there are people who try to impress the world with their advanced knowledge of 20th century social thinkers and there were fatasses who backflipped off turnbuckles and fell on people. Time could only tell which was more effective in a fight.