Choosing a favourite between professional wrestling and ultimate fighting is like choosing your favourite child. Of course, it may be easy, but it's even easier for me because I have no children... that I know of.The Bare-knuckled Gist
No offense to the fans of the UFC and mixed martial arts, but fans of the UFC and mixed martial arts are creepy, nocturnal beings who may or may not be albino perverts.
Mixed martial arts may be a fine practice, but I want 100% martial arts. My father did not fight in that war in that place a few days ago so some nobody could get away with attacking a dude with only 50% martial arts. To me, mixed martial arts represents a guy who roundhouse kicks his opponent in the face, but then buys him a present afterwards. That is not manly; that does not even qualify to be girly.
In all, ultimate fighting to the casual viewer is this -- two men in an eight-sided baby's crib attempting to violently caress each other while a referee with gloves on overlooks the proceedings in case some body part gets stuck in another body part. Thankfully, at least in wrestling, I don't have to see that.
Fake and the Fat Man
Professional wrestling is not fake. The tooth fairy is fake. The easter bunny is fake. Conversely, wrestling is like Santa Claus. Sure, everybody thinks he's fake, but he is actually as real as real can get.
When I was about seven years old on a cold Christmas Eve, I slowly walked down the stairs in my pajamas to get something to drink. To my surprise, in the living room was Saint Nicholas himself drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola. He took a good look at me and held a finger to his lips, gesturing for my silence. I nodded with glee, but then the The Grinch came up from behind and attacked Santa. He proceeded to put the jolly one in the Sharpshooter. As Santa was about to reverse the hold, I called for the bell. The Grinch stormed out of the room while Santa got to his feet and spat in my face. Santa deserved it. "Hungry Hippos", Santa? Really? I do believe the hippos were hungrier than that.
Pyroful
I'm sorry, but I want some non-stop fireworks up in that mother. The octagon is the most boring sports structure I have ever seen, next to the baseball field in the shape of a diamond (how about a parallelogram, fool?). If they must use it, why not surround it in fireworks? While they're doing that, why not cover the fighters themselves in fireworks, and sparklers?
The pyrotechnics of professional wrestling are exciting and intriguing. Yet, the world of MMA refuse to follow their lead. In the UFC, how am I going to know if something cool happens if there's not a colourful explosion of neon every ten seconds? See, when I attend a WWE event, I know somebody will be pee in their pantaloons, taken aback by the incredibly loud explosions; that is always entertaining. If it's somehow not, then I don't want to live on Earth anymore. I'll get a timeshare on Mars and a summer villa on Neptune.
Bland Eye Co-ordination
I'm supposed to care about the fighters of UFC, but I don't. When I think of Tito Ortiz, I think of Tito Jackson, but everybody knows I'm a fan of Jermaine. Why should I pay attention to him or any other fighter who looks just like him? So, he's a short-haired, barefoot guy in plain shorts trying to defeat a bald, barefoot guy in plainer shorts. Why should I pay my hard earned scratchola to watch that when I can get the same entertainment paying two bums a half-eaten ham sandwich to claw at each other in their underoos? In that wonderful scenario, bindles are illegal, but shopping carts are fair game. Boxcar Ezekial knows this for sure.
Not A Ring Girl, Not Yet A Ring Woman
I don't need a scantily clad blonde to tell me via large flashcard which round is upcoming. Of course, a regular male will gain immediate visual gratification from such a sight, but as you all know, I'm not ordinary. You see, female strangers come up to me and do that all the time without request. The other day, I was getting blinged up at the car wash when this sultry ring girl walked in my direction and held up a square card. She practically threw the card (and many other things) at me, but you know what I did? I embraced her lovingly, then executed a spike piledriver onto the concrete. The moral of the story: ring girls don't bounce as much as you want them to.
On the other hand, ring girls in Mexican wrestling are perfectly fine. I don't live in Mexico and I don't get the Mexico Channel, so they can saunter around and seduce Juan Valdez and his donkey for all I care. If I don't see it, it doesn't exist.
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violent
That well-dressed, old curmudgeon on the news is right -- UFC is violent. It causes violent behaviour, which causes violent children, which causes unwanted teen pregnancy, which causes a rise in meat prices, which leads to decreased funding for public schools. Compared to UFC, the violence in wrestling is equivalent to patting someone on the head. If a child watches ultimate fighting, 9 times out of 10, they will harm or injure a peer. The other time, they will purposely break one of their loved one's spleen with some sort of Muay Thai Food move. That's a fact.
I don't know about you, but I don't want a society full of aggressive individuals who bloody their fellow man for the sake of pride and victory; I want a society full of people who put each other through poorly constructed furniture and intentionally bleed for the sake of amusing an audience that consists of a large woman who smells like stale cheese and a foul-mouthed brat wearing three hats at the same time backwards.
The Verdict: Professional wrestling is off the hook, as well as the chain.
Q: Did you know that Ultimate Fighter Forrest Griffin is neither a forest nor a griffin, yet Carlito is actually from the Caribbean and is cool?
A: Hahahahaha... wipeout.
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