It is 1 p.m. on April Fool's eve, and 2,000 of the faithful have filed into < the sold-out Tupperware Convention Center in Kissimmee, Fla. On the lawn outside stands a light infantry of pickup trucks; one bumper sign reads GOD GUNS AND GUTS MADE AMERICA--LET'S KEEP ALL THREE. Inside, an army of tattoos comes to attention as the houselights fall, the speakers blare That's Entertainment, and the giant screen flashes the words LIVE FROM MADISON SQUARE GARDEN: WRESTLEMANIA. The magic moment has arrived. And so, for the moment, has the bastard sport of pro wrestling. From glittery Manhattan (where some...
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