How Do People Who Shout “I Was Deceived!” Watch Pro Wrestling?
The other day, an online controversy surrounding a YouTube channel called Zetsubo Line Kō, or “Despairing Assembly-Line Worker,” attracted a lot of attention.
I had watched the channel from time to time myself.
The premise was that its creator was a low-income, unmarried factory worker. The videos calmly portrayed his dreary daily life in a style built around despair.
Then people learned that he was actually married with children and earning a reasonable income. Apparently, some viewers became angry, saying, “I was deceived” and “Was everything a lie?”
Their reaction was what surprised me.
Wait, did they seriously believe that every part of it was real?
This was a YouTuber with hundreds of thousands of subscribers. That fact alone should have made it easy to imagine that he was earning a substantial income.
The very premise of “a low-income man living in despair” was already part of the content.
From the beginning, I watched it as something halfway between reality and pro wrestling.
Getting Angry at Pro Wrestling for Being “Fake”
As a child, it is fine to believe that pro wrestling is a real fight and cheer for the wrestlers.
But by the time we become adults, we know that the matches involve storylines and performance.
That does not make us say:
“What? It was staged? Give me my money back.”
We boo the villain and get excited when a bitter rival appears.
Having a script and being entertaining are two different matters.
Nobody watches a movie and gets angry, shouting:
“That spaceship is not really flying through space!”
We are not being deceived. Playing along with the deception is part of the fun.
But YouTube Changes the Rules
What is interesting is that this understanding suddenly stops applying when the medium is YouTube.
“I thought he was single!”
“I supported him because I thought he was poor!”
“I can’t forgive him for secretly being successful!”
Does that really justify so much anger?
YouTube creates an atmosphere of “this is my real daily life.”
Because creators film themselves in ordinary rooms, it is easy to mistake what is on the other side of the screen for reality itself.
But the moment something is filmed, edited, given a title and thumbnail, and published, it has already become a “work.”
Is the Anger Really About Lies—or Envy?
To take a more cynical view, are people truly angry about the “lie”?
I suspect that envy may be the bigger factor.
A low-income, unmarried man, working in a factory and living in despair.
That made him relatable. Some viewers probably saw themselves in him.
Then the truth came out: he was married, had children, and was successful on YouTube as well.
“I thought you were on my side of the divide, but you were one of the winners all along.”
Seen that way, the anger makes sense.
The man they had watched because they believed he was less fortunate than they were turned out to be happier than they were.
“I was deceived” is a useful phrase.
Admitting envy is embarrassing, but saying “I was lied to” allows you to become the victim.
Knowing How Not to Spoil the Fun
Entertainment has always offered the pleasure of knowing something is not entirely real and choosing to play along anyway.
That is true of pro wrestling. It is true of magic tricks and ghost stories too.
You can smugly point out, “There is a trick behind that, you know.”
But once you expose everything, all that remains is the satisfaction of being correct.
You can watch Zetsubo Line Kō while thinking:
“Come on, this man cannot really be that miserable.”
And still enjoy it by saying:
“Ah, another day of despair.”
That is about the right balance.
Instead, some people expose the premise, become angry, spread it across social media, and even leave comments on the videos, all while insisting, “I was not fooled.”
Their actions increase the view count and spread the story even further.
They shout that pro wrestling is fake while clinging to their ringside seats more fiercely than anyone else.
From the promoter’s perspective, perhaps that makes them pro wrestling fans too.