WHEN DID THE FIGHT GAME BECOME SO MAGA?
A few weeks ago somebody asked me if I watched UFC Freedom 250.
You know, Donald Trump's little birthday party on the White House lawn, thrown by Dana White, which reportedly cost UFC's parent company somewhere around $30 million.
Think about this.
Dana White runs an organization that's been criticized for years over fighter pay, but apparently when Donald Trump wants cage fights on the White House lawn for his 80th birthday, and suddenly it's money ain’t a thing.
Anyway, the answer was no. I didn't watch it, but it did get me thinking:
When the hell did the entire fight game become so MAGA? Because it's not just Dana White and UFC, but also the whole fight game, including boxing and other brands of MMA.
And the fighters, for the most part fucking love him.
Why?
Is it because he used to host big-time championship boxing matches at the casinos he bankrupted? Yes, this guy who is supposed to be some business genius somehow bankrupted casinos.
Do you understand how hard it sounds to bankrupt a casino? That's like killing a fucking cactus.
Maybe I've figured it out, though.
Cauliflower ear.
Maybe after getting punched in the head for 20 years, these guys can't hear all the shit and lies coming out of his demented mouth.
Then let’s not forget UFC commentator and podcaster Joe Rogan, who, once again, I get asked if I listen to.
Rogan has somehow become this five-foot-something ball of misinformation with the confidence of a man who literally knows it all even after smoking enough weed to supply a Grateful Dead concert.
Joe will hear the most ridiculous thing imaginable and seemingly has one standard for determining whether it's credible:
"Whoa."
That's it. “Whoa, that’s wild.” That’s his answer for everything that is off the wall and obviously not true.
Still, all these MMA fighters, fans, and talking heads look up to a president who wears his pants higher than Steve Urkel when golfing, who is wrecking our economy, challenging democracy, and literally has a handler for his diaper bag that has suddenly become more important than the nuclear football.
That's what makes this whole thing so fucking funny to me.
The fight scene is built around masculinity, and they’re all out here worshipping an 80-year-old man-child who shits his pants.
