The Internet is like a set of information dominoes. Touch one chunk of data and you'll inevitably bump into another. I can't say for certain that the process is endless and a very significant part of me hopes that it isn't. While the prospect of an instantly referenced super-document is exciting in regard to legitimate intellectual pursuits, I know all too well that the majority of what's on the Internet is of no worthwhile substance. To this day, some of the longest, most detailed Wikipedia pages are those that discuss Dragonball Z and the exhaustive re-branding of the board game Monopoly. Like some sort of virtual galleon graveyard, the Web is a sea of detritus. So, it was only a matter of time before I bumped into the phenomenon of backyard wrestling.

To be fair, backyard wrestling predates the Internet by a decade at least. Since the advent of the affordable home video camera, stupid teenagers have been reinforcing the assertion that they, collectively or individually, have no future by beating the crap out of one another on tape in increasingly elaborate ways. In short movies usually involving those old-school trampolines with plenty of exposed metal, these aspiring titans of the square circle spend their weekends and summer vacations accruing regrets for their oxycontin-addicted middle years.

I grew up in a family whose lifestyle could rightly be called "modest", but watching the extensive catalog of backyard wrestling videos on Youtube makes me think that I may have had a privileged childhood. By the time I reached adolescence I had learned to idolize a higher caste of individuals than the would-be superstars of the backyard set. Along with many of my peers, the most ill-advised or shallow objects of admiration were rock stars or controversial writers. But you know what? Despite all the cocaine and sex with Mick Jagger, David Bowie seems to have aged gracefully. The same cannot be said for pro wrestlers. Those that live past 40 make Mickey Rourke's turn in The Wrestler look hopelessly idealistic.

Still, I think backyard wrestling is a good thing. Great people rarely ever rise from mundane circumstances or safe hobbies. The kids who imitate their painkiller-addicted, oil-slathered, alias-using heroes will either grow up to be worthwhile members of society with interesting backgrounds or they will grow up to be exactly what they would have otherwise been as boring suburban people. At least by throwing one another through wood tables covered in thumb tacks they're exorcising their violent tendencies in ways that don't involve murdering local fauna. Maybe if there had been a larger backyard wrestling community in my childhood town fewer errant toads would have met their ends under the bicycle wheels of malicious youngsters.

I suppose I should warn you/entice you readers concerning the nature of some of the videos you'll find on Youtube on this topic. It's like a homemade collection of the Faces of Death tapes from the 90's. Wanna see a hick break his neck trying to be Jimmy freaking Snuka? Youtube's got you covered. Although, I question the use of the phrase, "Backyard Wrestling Gone Bad". It naturally assumes that a significant portion of backyard wrestling goes well. As we intellectual supermen know, if you've resorted to backyard wrestling for entertainment, your entire life has gone bad.