“R-R-R-R-R rah, rah. Gather around, good folks. Come closer up front so you can hear me better and I will introduce to you the world’s greatest aggregation of rastlers ever collected on one platform,” so sung out the spieler from the “bally ho” of an athletic carnival, in the “off by heart” spiel of that tribe, sometime in the middle nineties, at a rural fair in Iowa where this particular carnival happened to be. Once in a while you still hear it, but not so much, as champion wrestlers, like champion boxers, think that carnival stuff is way beneath them. Poor Mutts, their hair slicked back ·and plastered down with vaseline and a copy of Shakespeare in the pocket of their bathrobe does not make them any better.