Author: Doug Mortimer
While
the
news
media
dutifully
calls
our
attention
to
anniversaries
of
great
historical
import,
they
occasionally
are
asleep
at
the
switch.
Consider
the
40th
anniversary
of
the
passing
(I
think)
of
Andy
Kaufman,
the
self-proclaimed
Inter-Gender
Wrestling
Champion
of
the
World.
This
anniversary
occurred
on
May
16th,
and
I
must
admit
I
overlooked
it
myself.
To
those
of
tender
years
who
are
not
familiar
with
Andy
Kaufman,
he
is
a
difficult
fellow
to
explain,
to
put
it
mildly.
For
lack
of
a
better
word,
he
was
a
comedian.
Yet
he
asserted,
“I
never
told
a
joke
in
my
life.”
Kaufman’s
sense
of
humor
was
to
humor
what
theater
of
the
absurd
was
to
theater.
He
never
thought
of
himself
as
a
comedian
but
as
a
performer
or
an
entertainer.
Some
observers
classified
him
as
a
performance
artist,
but
without
the
pretentious
baggage
that
job
description
often
comes
with.
Looking
back
on
Kaufman’s
career
today,
it
appears
he
was
ahead
of
his
time.
I
wouldn’t
go
so
far
as
to
say
he
invented
the
concept
of
Clown
World,
but
he
certainly
pitched
the
tent
for
it.
You
might
look
up
some
of
Kaufman’s
old
television
appearances
on
YouTube
and
find
yourself
laughing
without
knowing
why.
Attempts
to
describe
his
appeal
generally
fall
flat.
As
the
saying
goes,
you
had
to
be
there.
Probably
the
most
normal
gig
he
had
was
playing
an
immigrant
mechanic
on
the
Taxi
sitcom.
He
also
made
numerous
appearances
on
Saturday
Night
Live
(15
starting
with
the
show’s
premiere
in
1975),
but
when
Producer
Lorne
Michaels
held
an
on-air
referendum
on
whether
or
not
he
should
be
invited
back
to
the
show,
the
naysayers
won.
It
only
went
to
prove
that
his
humor,
if
you
can
call
it
that,
was
not
for
everyone.
Exhibit
A
was
his
series
of
wrestling
matches
with
women,
which
attracted
a
great
deal
of
attention
but
probably
cost
him
the
female
vote
in
the
SNL
election.
Professional
wrestling
is
many
things
to
many
people.
It
might
be
considered
a
staple
form
of
entertainment
by
the
lower
class,
trash
by
the
middle
class,
and
possibly
a
guilty
pleasure
or
slumming
by
the
upper
class…if
they
pay
any
attention
to
it
at
all.
Andy
Kaufman,
a
fan
of
pro
wrestling
while
growing
up,
was
weaned
on
the
likes
of
Bruno
Sammartino,
Haystack
Calhoun,
Killer
Kowalski,
and
“Nature
Boy”
Buddy
Rogers,
his
favorite.
Professional
wrestlers,
whether
heroes
or
villain,
violate
just
about
every
standard
of
middle-class
propriety.
Obviously,
that
alone
would
be
enough
to
make
it
attractive
to
adolescents
in
training.
What
impressed
Kaufman,
however,
was
that
the
wrestlers
always
remained
in
character.
While
actors
typically
play
a
part
in
one
movie,
TV
show,
or
play,
then
move
on
to
another
role,
professional
wrestlers
played
the
same
role
forever,
in
and
out
of
the
ring.
They
were
nothing
if
not
consistent,
and
Kaufman
appreciated
that:
These
guys
are
the
real
purists
in
show
business.
They
have
hair
vs.
hair
grudge
matches,
spit
on
old
ladies,
taunt
people
outside
on
the
street
after
the
match.
A
private
detective
hired
to
follow
a
wrestler
might
never
once
see
him
act
out
of
character.
Fans
might
suspect
he
would
let
his
hair
down
somewhere,
but
it
never
happened
in
public.
This
brings
up
the
concept
of
kayfabe.
I
defer
to
the
internet
definition:
In
professional
wrestling,
the
term
kayfabe
refers
to
the
practice
of
maintaining
the
illusion
that
everything
is
real
–
including
the
scripted
personas,
rivalries,
and
storylines.
This
often
extends
beyond
the
in-match
performance
to
other
contests,
such
as
backstage
footage
and
interviews.
While
it
is
easy
to
dismiss
professional
wrestlers
as
fakes,
the
wall-to-wall
consistency
of
their
characters
also
brings
up
the
nagging
possibility
that
they
might
have
become
the
characters
they
portray.
This
particular
approach
to
“acting”
was
in
synch
with
Kaufman’s
performances.
The
conventional
comedian
will
occasionally
step
out
of
character
in
some
sort
of
“But
seriously,
folks…”
moment
in
support
of
his
pet
charity
or
some
political
candidate
or
natural
disaster
victims
or
world
hunger.
Kaufman
never
did
that.
As
described
by
Bob
Zmuda,
his
silent
partner
in
comedy,
“He
would
never
break
character
–
never,
ever.
Not
in
a
million
years.”
Kaufman,
like
the
wrestlers
he
admired,
was
always
onstage,
which
means
he
was
never
offstage,
which
in
turn
calls
the
whole
concept
of
the
stage
into
question.
When
Kaufman
was
ten
years
old,
famed
sociologist
Erving
Goffman
published
The
Presentation
of
Self
in
Everyday
Life
which
basically
argues
that
everyone
in
every
society
is
onstage,
incessantly
attempting
to
control
the
impressions
of
others.
Of
course,
Shakespeare
famously
said
that
“All
the
world’s
a
stage.”
If
so,
does
the
world
have
the
equivalent
of
the
theater’s
fourth
wall?
If
it
does,
can
it
be
breached?
Or
is
the
concept
of
the
fourth
wall
an
illusion?
Do
theater
and
real
life
intermingle?
Or
are
they
merely
two
prongs
of
an
artificial
dichotomy?
All
right,
enough
with
the
sophomoric
musings…this
ain’t
no
term
paper.
Let’s
get
back
to
pro
wrestling.
In
wrestling,
as
in
movies
and
melodramas,
the
villain
is
often
more
compelling
than
the
hero.
And
what
could
be
more
villainous
than
a
man
throttling
a
woman?
Of
course,
there
have
been
numerous
female
professional
wrestlers
over
the
years.
Kaufman
himself
had
a
collection
of
8mm
films
of
female
wrestlers.
But
the
idea
of
pitting
a
man
against
a
woman
in
a
wrestling
match
has
an
element
of
absurdity
to
it.
At
least
it
did
back
when
Kaufman
was
in
the
ring.
Today,
of
course,
it
might
be
acceptable,
even
stunning
and
brave,
for
a
trans
woman
to
go
to
the
mat
against
a
biological
woman.
But
none
dare
call
it
absurd.
Not
anymore.
Clown
World
has
rendered
the
concept
of
absurdity
absurd.
The
numbers
of
opponents
Kaufman
faced
in
the
ring
vary
greatly.
Bob
Zmuda
estimated
300.
The
first
time
was
in
April
1978
during
a
series
of
concerts
in
Tucson,
Arizona.
By
1979
it
is
a
regular
feature
in
his
gigs.
“Ladies
and
Gentlemen,
I
am
here
to
wrestle
tonight.
This
is
not
a
comedy
routine,
this
is
not
a
skit.
Okay?
This
is
real!
I
am
here
to
wrestle
a
woman!”
His
first
match
on
TV
was
on
the
Saturday
Night
Live
telecast
of
October
20,
1979.
Kaufman’s
shtick
was
pretty
much
in
keeping
with
conventional
pro
wrestling
bluster:
Say
the
most
outrageous
things
that
come
to
mind
to
rile
the
audience.
Kaufman
asserted
that
women
belonged
in
the
kitchen
or
that
they
were
too
stupid
to
defeat
him
in
the
ring.
The
men
were
not
on
his
side,
however,
because
he
belittled
them
for
having
lost
control
of
their
women.
The
goal
was
to
alienate
as
much
of
the
audience
as
possible
–
to
leave
no
fan
untriggered.
In
one
of
his
more
inspired
bits,
he
appeared
to
be
defeated
by
an
“offended”
man,
only
to
turn
the
tables
on
him
after
eating
a
can
of
spinach
while
the
Popeye
theme
song
played
over
the
public
address
system.
At
one
match,
Kaufman
vowed
he
would
shave
his
head
if
a
woman
defeated
him
and
had
a
barber
standing
by
just
in
case.
The
amount
he
offered
potential
challengers
varied
($500
and
$1,000
are
the
amounts
usually
mentioned),
but
he
never
lost
a
penny
because
Bob
Zmuda
was
the
referee.
In
case
a
challenger
came
a
little
too
close
to
pinning
Kaufman,
Zmuda
would
take
it
slow
with
the
three-
count.
Kaufman
did
lose
one
time
–
but
with
an
asterisk.
He
was
mudwrestling
six
girls
at
once
at
Chippendales,
the
famed
night
club
featuring
male
strippers.
It
was
strictly
an
exhibition
and
was
not
an
“official”
match.
Kaufman
had
as
many
as
five
matches
in
one
night.
He
once
sponsored
a
tournament
of
four
husky
females
to
see
which
one
would
face
him
in
the
ring.
One
of
his
bouts
on
Saturday
Night
Live
was
particularly
controversial
because
his
opponent
was
supposedly
pregnant.
Bob
Zmuda
speculated
that
Kaufman’s
love
of
inter-gender
wrestling
was
inspired
by
his
shyness
around
women
when
he
was
young.
He
also
estimated
that
he
slept
with
around
a
third
of
his
opponents.
Say
what
you
will,
Kaufman’s
inter-gender
wrestling
matches
were
a
novel
way
to
get
jiggy
with
the
opposite
sex
in
a
hurry.
Adding
to
the
zany
atmosphere
in
the
ring,
Kaufman
wore
boxing
trunks
over
thermal
underwear.
He
was
nowhere
near
as
imposing
as
the
bulked-up
males
who
regularly
appeared
in
wrestling
matches.
His
nerdy
appearance
made
it
appear
plausible
that
a
woman
could
beat
him,
but
Kaufman
had
more
upper
body
strength
than
appeared
at
first
glance.
He
astounded
his
9th
grade
phys
ed
class
by
leading
the
group
in
chin-ups
with
35.
After
watching
his
Midnight
Special
rendition
of
“It’s
a
Small
World”
(highly
recommended
and
readily
available
on
YouTube),
it
occurs
to
me
that
one
needs
to
be
exceptionally
well-coordinated
to
believably
portray
a
spaz.
With
typical
wrestling
showmanship,
Kaufman
basked
in
the
hooting
and
hollering
his
behavior
inspired
in
the
crowd.
He
would
ask
for
a
volunteer
(?)
who
would
jump
out
of
the
audience,
and
the
bout
would
begin.
After
a
brief
struggle,
Kaufman
would
pin
his
opponent,
then
arise
triumphantly,
arms
raised,
and
prance
around
the
ring.
Profuse
abuse
ensued.
I
think
it’s
safe
to
say
this
is
another
form
of
entertainment
that
would
not
be
permitted
today.
The
violence-against-women
crowd
would
be
all
over
it.
Even
the
most
dedicated
wrestling
promoter
would
wilt
in
the
face
of
the
demonstrations
and
bomb
threats.
And
yet…
In
more
and
more
legit
sports
contests
today
we
see
biological
men
competing
against
women
with
the
latter
emerging
with
not
just
hurt
feelings
but
hurt
bodies.
Kaufman’s
matches
can
be
condemned
as
misogyny
but
no
women
were
injured
in
his
farcical
matches.
Lest
we
forget,
in
Kaufman’s
day,
no
one
was
pushing
quotas
for
women
in
physically
demanding
jobs
with
police
and
fire
departments,
or
in
the
military
or
the
secret
service.
When
a
woman
got
in
the
ring
with
Andy
Kaufman,
there
was
no
such
thing
as
grrrrrl
power,
no
female
empowerment,
no
Mary
Sues,
no
DEI.
Oh,
there
was
perfect
parity
in
every
bout
–
one
male
versus
one
female
–
every
time!
Alas,
there
was
no
equity
in
the
outcomes.
Fixed
or
not,
Kaufman’s
matches
were
closer
to
biological
reality
than
the
pipe
dreams
of
today’s
egalitarian
ideologues.
Speaking
of
reality,
we
should
mention
that
Kaufman’s
inter-gender
wrestling
matches
might
have
been
inspired
by
a
real
fetish.
About
the
time
Kaufman
was
just
starting
to
make
a
name
for
himself,
I
was
doing
free-lance
writing
for
local
publications.
I
remember
going
to
the
office
of
one
such
publication
to
receive
a
check
for
a
recently-published
article
when
I
noticed
a
stack
of
tabloids
sitting
in
a
corner.
I
could
see
it
was
not
the
publication
I
had
written
for,
so
I
went
over
for
a
closer
look.
The
entire
publication
was
nothing
but
pictures
of
nude
black
men
wrestling
nude
white
women.
There
was
no
penetration
and
there
were
no
erections,
so
it
wouldn’t
qualify
as
pornography.
I
don’t
know
what
you
would
call
it,
but
it
certainly
wasn’t
the
sort
of
periodical
one
would
leave
on
a
coffee
table
in
the
living
room.
While
the
office
manager
was
writing
out
a
check
to
me,
I
asked
him
what
the
publication
was.
He
said,
“Oh,
that’s
The
Wrassler.”
Funny,
I’d
never
seen
it
at
the
local
newsstand.
For
all
I
know,
this
may
have
been
just
one
riff
on
an
inter-gender
wrestling
kink.
Perhaps
there
were
Asian/white,
brown/black,
black/Asian
publications
out
there,
along
with
niche
markets
involving
midgets
and
amputees
–
consider
the
possibilities!
This
was
almost
half
a
century
ago,
but
for
all
I
know,
these
kinks
may
now
be
readily
abundant
online,
maybe
just
a
few
clicks
away.
I
can’t
help
but
wonder
if
Andy
Kaufman
had
seen
a
copy
of
The
Wrassler
or
some
variation
thereof
before
he
embarked
on
his
inter-gender
wrestling
career.
Unsurprisingly,
Kaufman
retired
undefeated.
His
record
against
male
professional
wrestlers
was
not
so
good.
Famously,
after
taunting
the
crowd
with
some
redneck
and
white
trash
baiting
at
one
of
his
favorite
venues,
the
Mid-South
Coliseum
in
Memphis,
local
hero
Jerry
Lawler
cleaned
his
clock…or
did
he?
Afterwards,
Kaufman
wore
a
neck
brace
for
months
but
whether
he
needed
it
or
not
was
debatable.
The
important
thing
was
that
fans
ate
it
up.
Whether
they
believed
it
or
not
was
immaterial.
Kaufman
and
Lawler
got
into
an
impromptu(?)
re-match
on
the
July
28,
1982
airing
of
The
David
Letterman
Show.
Was
it
real
or
fake?
Who
cares?
It
was
a
great
moment
in
television
history!
Right
up
there
with
Lee
Harvey
Oswald
getting
gunned
down
by
Jack
Ruby!
Say,
was
that
real
or
fake
or…well,
let’s
not
get
into
that.
While
fake
news
has
become
a
common
concept
today,
fake
entertainment
has
not
been
called
on
the
carpet
perhaps
because
suspension
of
belief
is
an
integral
part
of
entertainment.
Even
given
the
preface
“Based
on
a
true
story”
no
one
expects
a
faithful
adherence
to
the
facts.
To
paraphrase
George
Orwell
in
Animal
Farm,
“all
forms
of
entertainment
are
fake
but
some
forms
of
entertainment
are
more
fake
than
others.”
In
a
display
of
what
feminists
might
call
poetic
justice,
Kaufman,
a
non-smoker
and
health
food
fanatic,
died
of
lung
cancer
at
the
age
of
35
in
1984.
His
reputation
as
a
faker
was
so
good
that
even
those
closest
to
him
figured
it
was
all
a
practical
joke.
After
all,
he
had
often
talked
about
faking
his
death.
They
guessed
he
would
show
up
at
his
funeral
and
dispel
the
hoax.
He
didn’t.
Then
people
figured
he
had
gone
into
hiding
for
a
period
of
time
known
only
to
him…10,
20,
maybe
30
years…before
he
would
triumphantly
return.
He
was
into
Hinduism,
so
it
is
not
impossible
that
he
would
have
joined
some
religious
community
in
a
remote
corner
of
the
world.
If
he
is
still
walking
the
planet
somewhere,
he
would
be
75
years
old
today.
In
other
words,
he
would
have
been
“dead”
longer
than
he
had
been
alive.
Of
course,
a
lot
of
people
born
in
1949
are
still
fogging
mirrors,
so
he
might
be
one
them
but,
alas,
too
old
to
make
a
wrestling
comeback;
at
age
75,
he
might
legitimately
lose
to
a
female
challenger.
The
ultimate
question
regarding
Andy
Kaufman
was
“Is
this
guy
for
real?”
The
answer
remains
elusive.
I
can
state,
however,
that
he
was
inducted
into
the
WWE
(World
Wrestling
Entertainment)
Hall
of
Fame.
And
you
can
take
that
to
the
bank!
The
question
remains,
however,
as
to
whether
or
not
his
induction
was
posthumous.
To
be
sure,
he
wasn’t
there
for
the
ceremony,
but
was
he
still
drawing
breath
somewhere
on
planet
earth?
If
so,
that
would
be
after
four
decades
of
seclusion.
If
you
despair
of
Clown
World
today
and
find
yourself
mumbling,
“Andy
Kaufman,
thou
shouldst
be
alive
at
this
hour,”
take
heart!
He
might
be!
If
you
start
young
enough,
you
can
fake
being
dead
for
ten,
twenty,
thirty,
even
forty
years
–
maybe
longer
if
you
have
good
genes
and
take
care
of
yourself.
In
the
end,
of
course,
the
grim
reaper
will
not
be
denied.
In
the
meantime,
if
Andy
Kaufman
isn’t
dead,
he
can
fake
it
till
he
makes
it.
Original Story on AVFM
These stories are from AVoiceForMen.com.
(Changing the cultural narrative)