Last week, Monday Night Raw, the WWE’s venerable wrestling program celebrated its 1,000th episode. And it didn’t disappoint. There was an in-ring wedding ceremony, there were pyrotechnics and, most importantly, there was an endless parade of former WWE superstars, back in the ring to perform signature finishing moves and somehow, someway, summon up the strength of days gone by in their forty and fifty year-old bodies to turn out the lights on their contemporary counterparts. And it. was. awesome. I watched from my couch, furtively texting and Facebooking my other thirty-something friends, our cyber-cheers bouncing off satellites and racing through high-speed Internet connections.