This book actively does two things. I will let you guess them....
No one will ever dispute that Degeneration X was one of the most influential pairings in the history of pro wrestling. Shawn Michaels and Triple H made a weekly mockery of kayfabe, and an entire generation loves them for it. The troop was truly revolutionary, and they made it a habit to push all boundaries of wrestling sanity with each weekly promo, match, promo, backstage skit, promo, and occasional five star classic match. DX was truly an influential act that helped to modernize this business.
Yet the troupe is mostly hated and despised by the industry. Why is that?
Well, it is simply this: Shawn Michaels and Paul "HHH" Levesque are among the two most detestable individuals the WWE/F has ever produced. Sure, I am absolutely certain they have their fans, as all wrestlers do. But riddle me this: how many WWE athletes, over the last 25 or so years, have produced enough vitriol to make a new vitamin supplement for baseball players to get hopped up on?
Michaels. HHH. And that is it.
Sure, some hate Bret Hart and his knee high schoolgirl ways. Some hate Hogan. The less said there, the better. But HHH and HBK generally invoke a level of hatred from a good number of wrestling fans that make the late Osama Bin Laden look quite like Bob Backlund. It is really amazing when one ponders all of the surrounding facts.
Well, here are the facts. Let me being with this: I am a HUGE Bret Hart fan. Thus, I hate Shawn Michaels. There, now you have it. At this point, one must be thinking, "Man, he hates HBK and loves Hitman...where is this review going to go?" I will always remain a huge Hitman fan and detractor of HBK. While I have prided myself on how great Bret's biography is, and I have always prided myself on not being subjective or biased, I can sum up this book in a few words:
Yup. First off, it is supposed to be the words of the REAL DX members, HBK, HHH, Chyna and Rick Rude. Rude is dead, Chyna is....somewhere in her own world, HHH is now a McMahon and HBK blows, or has blown, all of them. What...expecting a level of discourse of objectivity? Ah...no. HBK was Vince's blowjob boy, as far as this writer is concerned, and he parlayed that spectacular head into a job for his boy toy...I mean friend...HHH.
Now, most books feature in depth analysis and some behind the scenes stories. This book is total kayfabe for the most part. HHH OCCASIONALLY drops something...but not much. HBK never says shit. So, while it is a quick, easy read, it is not a volume that is going to grant you a shitload of wrestling knowledge. Sure, Shawn mentions he was, while not totally wrong, but felt in the wrong about Montreal, you are going to get equal bullflop from his H-Ness about how Foley never put him over. Except that one time. Or second time. Nope. Almost nothing.
This is not this kid's best review. I realize that. But realize that THIS is not the best book. It is more or less KAYFABE to the fullest, and, unless you are like me, someone who craves any and all information, it is not for you. For the few who want to read through several layers of horseshit, who want to realize that HHH and HBK are two assholes who are so full of shit that terds spout out everytime they open their mouths...maybe you might enjoy this...