Moose Cholak’s Love Child

“Never judge a person until you’ve walked in their moccasins”-Quote from some American Indian guy who ought to go the hell back to where he came from.

Sometimes we, and yes, by ‘we’ I include me, are too quick to judge. Take, for example, the lonely love child of former pro rassler and man mountain Moose Cholak. The young boy rarely saw his father, as Moose was entertaining fans from Scranton to Saskatoon and every tank town in between.  Picture the boy, who was the spitting image of his old man, squinting through the TV snow of some shoestring UHF operation just trying to catch a glimpse of his wayward dad, and instead seeing fans throwing eggs at him. Imagine the resentment of his bitter mom as she heard Cholak emit an unearthly moose mating call before each and every match. Did the mating calls go unrequited,  besides that one time in Parsippany? Who can say?

Is it any wonder that this unloved child grew up to seek the approval of the citizenry through elective service but was unable to love the citizenry back? He resented them for not recognizing his talents, and let them know in no uncertain terms. The public, through their votes, tossed electoral eggs at him.

He has now shrunk (not literally) from the spotlight, but imagine the existential sadness gnawing at him.

“Who am I to judge?”-Quote from the namby-pamby Pope who would cower in the presence of Putin.

I sincerely hope that Moose’s love child is reading this.  For him, and for you, I present Moose in all his glory:

 

 

You’re welcome.