Quick follow-up to last week’s column, which featured the sad, pathetic twilight of the last “real man” on earth: One day after peeling his bloody scalp off the pavement, the “Nature Boy” Ric Flair — the 77-year-old wrestling legend — was back at the bar.
Ric Flair and bars go together like peanut butter and jelly. Or like pyromaniacs and Zippos. Despite an ungodly onset of serious health problems and near-fatalities — including a stroke, heart attack, coma, plane crash, organ failure, blood clots, cancer, and being struck by lightning — Ric Flair just can’t say no.
It’s almost as if he has some kind of addiction.
In a way, it’s admirable. Hell, he lived 77 years doing it his way. Most of his contemporaries died decades ago, yet Flair is still the life of the party. (Woooooo!)
So who are we to judge?
Middle-aged Flair used to brag in his promos, “Space Mountain might be the oldest ride in the park, but it’s still got the longest lines.” And he’s right: He main-evented a ridiculous number of stadiums, shows, and concerts. By some estimates, he’s had over 5,000 matches — and during the most active decades of his career, he was the headline draw.
Meanwhile, the Beatles had about 1,400 concerts. Elvis Presley had roughly 1,680. Even if we assume they headlined all their concerts, it’s entirely possible that Ric Flair sold out more stadiums as the marquee attraction than Elvis Presley and the Beatles combined. He’s a legit showbiz legend and a bona fide cultural icon.
But he’s drinking himself to death.
Not in secret or behind closed doors. Out in public. One day after leaving a Tampa bar and collapsing on the sidewalk, social media was filled with photos of Flair back on the barstool.
Wrestling legend Ric Flair returned to the same bar the following day after a bloody fall left him hospitalised https://t.co/SyhI16dKcJ
— non aesthetic things (@PicturesFoIder) October 26, 2026
It’s admirable, yet utterly horrifying. It’s inspiring, yet gruesome, hideous, and borderline obscene. On one hand, there’s something to be said about going out on your own terms — ‘cause he’s Ric Flair (“Woooooo!”) and we’re not. He’s earned the right to spend his final days pickled and sloshed.
Lord knows there are worse ways to die.
Randy Savage was driving his car at age 58, had a heart attack, and that was the end of the Macho Man. Miss Elizabeth — Savage’s real-life (ex-) wife and the MacGuffin of their WrestleMania feud — dropped dead of a drug overdose at age 41. When your number’s up, it’s up.
So maybe, instead of criticizing Flair, we should learn from him. Maybe a carpe diem philosophy would do us some good.
Live for the moment! Seize the day! Party ‘til the wheels come off! Woooooo!
Trouble is, eventually, the wheels will come off. It’s the way of the universe. Because, eventually, everyone dies. No exceptions.
Not even for the Nature Boy.
And Flair is decomposing in real time. He’s 77 years old and looks like Nebuchadnezzar’s grandfather. Social media is full of pics and videos of him getting kicked out of bars and acting like a drunken idiot:
Look at the guy at the bar laughing at Ric Flair. He was the sad drunk grandpa that you can’t help but laugh at.
— Hollywood Gump (@FirstNameJ0hn) May 7, 2024
He also, apparently, records his cameos from his barstool, blitzed beyond belief (NSFW):
"Why would you get married mother f*cker?" - Ric Flair to someone who paid him nearly a grand for a Cameo. https://t.co/bDMskHZI4i
— Steve Carrier (@stevecarrier_) December 23, 2025
Ex-wrestling manager Jim Cornette, host of one of the top-rated pro wrestling podcasts, toured the world with Flair. He summed up the situation thusly:
“I wish Ric Flair thought as much of himself as all the fans think of him.”Yes, he sold out more stadiums than Elvis and the Beatles combined, and yes, that will be part of Ric Flair’s legacy. Can’t take it away from him.
But so will his drunken buffoonery. So will the sad, pathetic image of this shriveled-up husk slurring his speech in bars. That’s what has become of his legacy, too.
Because of recency bias, the old drunk image will be top of mind. Flair’s heyday was in the 1970s and 1980s, and the number of fans who witnessed his prime is dwindling by the day. Even if that were not the case, his prime was 40 to 50 years ago.
Yet his drunken behavior was just last week. Millions of younger fans exclusively think of him as this drunk, absurd, overaged caricature.
It’s disconcerting how recency bias affects our memories. I’ve known Alois for most of my life, but because dementia has hobbled his final years, it’s changed how I think of him. My first thoughts aren’t the marathon conversations we used to have about military history, science, and geopolitical strategy. Nor are they the life-saving advice he gave me when I was in my 20s and lost.
Now, I mostly think about making sure he goes to the bathroom, cleans himself, and eats enough food.
In my mind, he’s small, helpless, and weak. That’s the first image that pops in my head.
Maybe, after his horrible struggle is over, my old memories of Alois will return. Because, for 90% of the time I’ve known him, he was one of the smartest men I knew. No exaggeration.
But that final 10% is an absolute mindbender.
It’s not fair, because it’s not something Alois can control. He didn’t ask for this.
He hates this!
And if it happens to me, that’s how my kids will probably remember me, too. They’ll still have memories of all the fun stuff we did together, but my one-way descent to senility will be part of my legacy, too.
When they think of their father, they’ll remember me staring into space with those dead, vacant eyes — small, weak, and helpless.
But hey, maybe having a legacy is overrated. After all, dead is dead. It’s not like we’ll be around to enjoy it.
That was how Iron Mike Tyson (who partnered with Flair on a marijuana brand) looked at it (NSFW):
Mike Tyson responds to little girl’s question about legacy: “We are nothing, we just dead, we’re dust.” 😭https://t.co/P80vNBaqth
— My Mixtapez (@mymixtapez) November 14, 2024
“Legacy doesn’t mean nothing… I’m gonna die and it’ll all be over. Who cares about legacy after that? …Our legacy is nothing.”
And on a personal level, Tyson is right: Once he’s dead, it won’t matter if we think he’s the GOAT, a bum, or anything in between. Because only the living care about that stuff.
Which is also why Tyson’s logic is flawed: Our legacy isn’t about us.
If you think it is, you’re missing the point.
It’s about everyone who’s still alive — and all their children, too.
Our legacy is our last, final gift to the planet. It’s the sum total of everything we’ve ever done. It’s all the good, all the bad, all our dreams, and all our failures.
It’s everything.
Every man has a legacy. For most of us, it’s our children, grandchildren, and family. For a lucky few, it’ll also be our great-grandchildren, professional accomplishments, and stunning works of art.
But not every legacy is worth remembering. Most legacies are forgotten.
Fifty or so years after we die, very few people are still remembered. And eventually, the day will come when your name is completely forgotten. It’ll vanish from the earth.
It’s like you never even existed.
Which is the cruel curse of politics, because we’re perpetually one generation away from tyranny. Always. As much as we’d love our legacy to be the final defeat of fascism and evil, that’s beyond our reach: If our children want to live in a free country, they’ll have to fight for it — just like we did.
It’s both a legacy and an obligation.
We want our lives to have meaning. And then, after we die, we want our legacy to endure. It’s why millionaires and billionaires pay a fortune for naming rights: They’re trying to Ozymandias their way into our memories.
But that’s not how legacies work. They’re more personal than that — especially our memories of loved ones.
And of our childhood heroes.
Ric Flair already had a legacy. Then he changed it. He still has time to change it back, but he probably won’t.
Possibly because he’s an addict. Or maybe it’s because he simply doesn’t care what anyone else thinks — ‘cause he’s still the Nature Boy! Wooooooo! And the Nature Boy deserves to be selfish! Wooooooo!
Death with dignity? Ha! We’re gonna party all night long!
Because maybe Jim Cornette is right: Maybe he doesn’t think as much of himself as the fans think of him. The fans loved Ric Flair. They cheered him when he was strong and prayed for him when he was weak. They loved him despite his failures, sins, screw-ups, and mistakes.
But sometimes love isn’t enough.
I wonder if God looks down and thinks the same thing about you and me.
