[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

I’m going to tell you a scary story.

When I was a little kid, there was a professional wrestling company called the WWF. Don’t look for them – they don’t exist anymore. This company had absolutely perfected the slop-culture art of pro-wrestling, creating a product that was as enthralling as even the finest piece of art. The good guys were the best. The bad guys were pure evil. And even the maniacs captivated. If you were an apostle of the WWF, it was a beautiful time to be alive.

But lurking about the dark underbelly of staged athletics was a different creature altogether. Relegated to filthy corners of sports entertainment, this abomination took umbrage at its second-class status. This being didn’t smile and shake hands. It didn’t kiss babies on the forehead and say “God bless.” And it sure as hell set any precedents.

This ghoul was called the WCW. And it was the malevolent doppleganger of the WWF.

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