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Randy Savage

While those of us who are left behind are facing whatever this “apocalypse” may mean, I did want to say a little farewell to someone who meant a lot to me as a kid. It’s not my usual comic agenda, but please read along as I bid a fond adieu to perhaps the only straight man who could get away with all of that spandex, fringe and bedazzled clothing.

The man who we all came to know as “Macho Man” Randy Savage was born Randy Poffo, in Columbus Ohio. He died at the age of 58 behind the wheel of a car. When I was a little girl, I used to think he was invincible. I thought Ms. Elizabeth was glamorous and I thought that the WWF (as it was called back then) ice cream sandwich on the stick that the ice cream trucks in Brooklyn sold, tasted better if he was on them. He always tasted better than Hulk Hogan, always.

I remember the first time I had a Slim Jim…I did it, at the recommendation of Randy Savage. I remember jumping up and down on my grandmother’s bed, while she was cooking dinner, with my cousins as we all pretended to be a wrestler. I always wanted to either be Randy Savage or the Ultimate Warrior. Mostly because I wanted the sunglasses or the war paint. I also loved to scream “OOOOH YEAAAAAHH!” obnoxiously, as I elbow dropped my family.

I was so giggly when I saw Spiderman and he made a cameo as Buzzsaw. He had moved on from the seemingly celibate Ms. Elizabeth to a harem of tight leather skanks! I never thought anyone could get away with wearing neon cowboy hats out in the streets, but he did. He could do anything. He was the Macho Man. I have to say, there’s parts of my childhood that I hold on to. Of course, there’s the comics, the cartoons, the sci-fi and fantasy…but there was always the wrestling. Not this modern day WWE shit, but Andre the Giant, Rick Flair..that day.. the 80s. Oh, how I miss when I was a little girl, wrestling was real (in my head, of course) and its stars would live forever.

So Randy…I will miss you. For whatever that’s worth.. I mean, if the world is going to end, then I suppose it doesn’t matter. But at least know, there’s one fan in NYC, who’s having a warm glass of milk at midnight, and saying a tearful goodbye, watching internet videos…and being 7 years old again.

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