A Medium essay titled "Professional Wrestling Is Stupid (And I Love It)" makes a simple case: sometimes the dumbest stuff is the most fun. Its thesis, as the piece frames it, is that wrestling's appeal lies in absurdity, spectacle and over-the-top storytelling rather than realistic competition. The "stupidity," in other words, is the point.
It's a timely argument. Per the essay's framing, wrestling fandom is having a cultural renaissance: mainstream acceptance is growing, streaming platforms are investing heavily in wrestling content, and younger audiences are reportedly discovering the genre without irony or shame. That last part is the real shift. The apology is going out of style.
Dumb Fun in the Age of Prestige
We live in an era where every show wants to be "important." Grim lighting, morally gray antiheroes, a limited series about grief with a runtime that feels like grief. Against that backdrop, a grown adult screaming into a microphone about a betrayal is almost refreshing.
The essay's argument, as summarized, is that this kind of entertainment is legitimate and worth celebrating rather than excusing. It's hard not to see the logic. Nobody asks you to defend your love of a good soap opera cliffhanger. Wrestling is just that, with more turnbuckles.
Wrestling Is in Good Company
The smartest way to defend wrestling is to notice how many beloved things share its DNA. Think of the media we already give a pass:
- Anime, where emotional stakes are announced at full volume and power-ups take an entire episode.
- Superhero films, where people in costumes trade punches and speeches about destiny.
- Reality TV, where everyone insists it's all real while the editing winks at you.
That's my comparison, not a claim from the essay's author, though comparing wrestling to other "silly" media is one of the angles the piece's themes invite. Wrestling just skips the pretense. It's melodrama with the volume knob snapped off, and it knows it.
Camp Is a Feature, Not a Bug
The strongest idea in the essay's framing is that wrestling's theatrical excess is what makes it entertaining, not something that undercuts it. Camp works when everyone commits. A wrestler doesn't smirk at the audience to say "isn't this ridiculous?" The performance goes all in, and the crowd goes all in with it.
That shared commitment is the secret. Irony is a defense mechanism: if you only like something sarcastically, you can never be embarrassed by it. The reported shift among younger viewers, enjoying wrestling without irony or shame, suggests that defense is being dropped. Sincere enthusiasm is the more fun way to watch anything.
Why Streaming Cares
Per the essay's context, streaming platforms are putting serious money into wrestling content. From a business angle, it's not hard to guess why: wrestling is built for devoted, repeat viewing, with ongoing storylines and characters fans feel loyal to. That's my read, not a reported motive. But the investment itself signals that what was once a punchline is now a priority.
The Case Rests
The essay's closing energy, judging by its description, is the same as its title: a cheerful shrug. Yes, it's stupid. Yes, you'll love it anyway. In a culture that keeps demanding we justify our tastes, the most radical move might be the simplest one. Stop apologizing, turn up the volume, and cheer for the guy in the sequined cape.
