The first rule of professional wrestling is that if you see something, you are supposed to see it—there are plenty of secrets and slip-ups; a body falling to the floor a step early, a mistimed musical cue—yet the camera will always seem to cut away at the precise moment (cameras are everywhere these days) & it will never be spoken of again.

It’s with a heavy heart that I join the din of people announcing that American Decency has died. Like Mark Twain, reports of Decency’s death have often been exaggerated, but this time, Decency is good and truly dead.

As its longtime friend and occasional lover, it's with great sadness that I report the violent murder and dismemberment of Optimism during the early morning hours of last November the 9th.

I think (I hope?) maybe everyone had a place like Spyro Gyros in their 20s. Small and sticky-boothed, it was the only place in walking distance of the bars in downtown Lancaster that was open after last call.

True greatness is terrifying. You were terrifying.

The squared-shoulder, fist-pumping, finger-pointing, suffer-no-nonsense approach to the world.