RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Tuesday, August 30

Ultimate 100: 85 thru 81

Right back at it, with bird dog persistence, because if I slow down now, I'm going to quit...
#85: NICK DIAZ vs. KARO PARISYAN - I like the Diaz brothers because they are pot-smoking crazy fuckers. Kind of nice to imagine some stoner Mexican athlete dudes learning Brazilian jiu-jitsu, while high, from the Gracies. What could be better than going to Brazil to learn some ancient bullshit fighting style from old dudes who don't speak your language? That's some classical learning right there. The Karo Parisyan dude is a judo expert, and judo is the most traditionally classic fighting style of all. They even do that shit inside the Olympics.
Fight starts with them rolling around like a Mexican wrestling match, but real fighting. Shit is tight, like if they had ultimate fighting but outlawed punching, which actually would be kinda neat to watch, and take out the former Marine tribal barbed wire tattoo on bicep contingent in viewing parties. My youngest sister married a dude who I have caught wearing Tapout t-shirts a couple of times. That is concerning to me, although he seems to be a stoner, although in 2011, with chemical weed and stoner fighters like Nick Diaz, I'm not sure how that makes it a lesser offense. I was reading the other day about how Mexican cartels are growing weed in national forests in the Pacific Northwest nowadays, because it's harder to smuggle across the Canadian border than it used to be. But all the chemicals they use to grow the weed ruins like 10 acres per 1 acre of planted pot plants. I've always wondered about that what with today's supersonic hydroponic weed factor, with flavors and shit. I figured it was more street chemistry than street botany involved, because them hippie fuckers from back in the '60s were actual college brainiacs sometimes, and mad botanical, and if they couldn't make it crazy, then normal natural sciences of plant alone weren't gonna do it. I always figured it was like chemical weed bullshit, which has made me afraid of modern marijuana, unless I knew who grew it. I mean, that's how I should be about weed, food, drink, everything. We just happily allow so many poisons into our body, never even blinking an eye. Motherfuckers give their babies like Pepsi or Dr. Pepper and shit.
This really is a fucking amazing fight, with mad wrestling-style technical craziness going on, with dudes taking control, losing it, taking it, back and forth. This is the type of shit that makes the lighter weight classes so enjoyable. It's too bad they can't be outright outlaw and admit their true nature and Diaz can't have like 420girls.com on his trunks. Karo got poked in the eye and lost a contact, which was probably all part of Diaz's nefarious master street plan.
Final round aka third and they come out swinging for the first time, but get in a clinch for a minute, but you can tell they both know nobody is really outright winning, so they'll start have to start swinging bows at each other, to try and make it obvious. A dude like Diaz who is heavily steeped in that Gracie style, where you can be underneath another dude but still the more dangerous dude in that situation, that's some stylish fighting. Karo and judo are getting the takedowns, but Diaz and jiu-jitsu seems like it is still up to something once down. Only two minutes left, and somebody better do their thing, though this has probably been the most enjoyable fight on this list thus far. Time ends and being I didn't pay attention every second, hard to say who will win the decision. This is why it would suck to be a judge - no zoning out on titties or leaving to go get an Italian sausage or anything. You just sit there watching every little move and are supposed to be making mental notes, but then you probably zone a little and focus back in and are like, "Did I miss something? What the fuck went on that last 23 seconds?" And I'm a pretty sharp and focused individual, and I'd be like that. Can you imagine these old crusty Vegas fuckers who do actual judging? No wonder there's so many questionable decisions.
The judo fucker beat my man Nick Diaz in a split decision. So yeah.
#84: JOSH BARNETT vs. PEDRO RIZZO - I think these guys are heavyweights or something or I remember reading some dumb shit about Barnett and thinking he sucked or I don't know. "Pedro Rizzo" sounds like a good slang term for a drug, probably chemically tainted super weed. "Yo, I smoked a peach blunt full of that pedro rizzo shit the other night, and thought my heart was gonna stop, but was freaking out, just sitting there staring at the cinderblocks in the alley behind the neighbor's house, wondering why we had so many cinderblocks. And why they called 'cinder blocks'? Like Cinderella, the left behind shit that builds real shit solid. I was on that thinking for a long ass time, thinking how my whole world was gonna be cinderblocks from now on. Then I started worrying about my heart again and thought it was beating to the cars in the distance, so I wanted to walk further away from the interstate noise, so that my heart would slow down. Man, that pedro rizzo shit ain't no joke."
Haha, Barnett has a big fat belly jiggling around with every kick and punch, so this is obviously early UFC, before Dana White and the Ziggler brothers or whatever the fuck their name is had enough international presence to weed out dudes like this and only have the youngest male hardbodies possible for their gay sex domination fetish plays. But it also makes me want to see Barnett win, because he's fat, and he's not a chemical street drug that makes me fall in love with cinderblocks. If I'm gonna fall in love with cinderblocks, I want it to be natural shit, like mushrooms, or straight weed, or ayahuasca, or something good like that. Pedro Rizzo just keeps kicking this dude in the thigh and leg, like where it's all welted up and gross looking, although to be fair, Barnett is about a pasty motherfucker, so he might welt up easier than the normal dude. "I love what we've seen for the first five minutes, great respect, this is an example of what this sport is all about!" How many times have you heard a UFC commentator dude say shit like that, pushing hard how much this is a legitimate affair and to be respected and loved. Yeah, this is old, because the center of the ring apron doesn't even have a sponsor on it, just the UFC logo, before it got all angled out to show how EXTREME it really was. Your logo is a representative of your company. That's why the Rojonekku logo is three mirrors pointed in at each other and you have to insert your head in the middle, and there's thousands and thousands of reflections of your own face. That's Rojonekku.
It's really fun to speak nonsense gibberish under the guise of something else, which is normally what I do on this site and with my words, but even more obvious when writing during these Ultimate 100 reviews/commentaries, because it's like the writing equivalent of speaking in tongues, where a normal person may google search "Ultimate 100" and come upon this and not even get far, or not even understand, but somebody will read a little paragraph of Pure Truth and be like, "Yeah, that's it right there." And also people who know this style of mine who could care less about ultimate fighting will read through it, even quickly, looking for these meanders that have nothing to do with what is being stated is the point, and yet speak to a larger overall truth than anything I could seriously write about a fucking Josh Barnett vs. Pedro Rizzo fight from yesteryear. That's my style.
Josh Barnett just took a big fat hit of Pedro Rizzo, like I did, and passed out in the corner, staring glassy-eyed up at the lights, thinking about how ridiculous lights are, and how loud the camera flashes sounded. Props to old school UFC for showing in super slow-motion the immense brain damaging string of punches that left Barnett loopy against the mesh of the octagonal shaped cage.
#83: CHUCK LIDDELL vs. VERNON WHITE - This gets the little pre-fight hype package, even though it's a historical collection, and if they were building up the legend of that Hawaiian dude I already forgot about (B.J. Penn), then this part of the retrospective is probably the "Chuck Liddell is really just the most awesome thing ever" part. Because somebody chose all these matches, and put them in a certain order, and is creating a feeling in the viewer of certain feelings, to make you want to watch more, to respect certain people, certain styles, and hopefully spend money on more UFC bullshit for the rest of your life. We are being branded by all this. After ref intros, "How much does this crowd love Chuck Liddell?" He is being pushed as the best by all moving parts of this engineered pseudo-sport, like Vince McMahon talking about how tough Hulk Hogan is in 1983. Because of all this, even though rooting for classic fights is like gambling on old Super Bowls, I am hoping Vernon White wins. The more Liddell fights you see too, the more you kinda start to hate that guy. Those damn stupid trunks do not help. Nor the hair. Nor anything.
First round is just Liddell dropping bombs on the dude, and Vernon White displaying a human's amazing ability to resist going black from direct blows to the skull that rattle your brain around. Because of this, the crowd cheers him now. Announcer just said how the UFC gloves are just little 4 ounce gloves to protect the knuckles from being broken, which I guess means bare knuckle fighting is more raw, or not as raw? I'm not sure. On my own hands, from punching people and things, out of eight knuckles, three of them are flattened out - both pinkie knuckles and the pointing finger knuckle on my left drunk-jab hand.
Liddell finally knocks him out with about a minute left in the first round, so I guess this match was considered ultimate because the black guy refused to get knocked out until he sustained the brain damage of four normal knock outs.
#82: FRANK TRIGG vs. GEORGES ST. PIERRE - St. Pierre is referred to as a "consummate gentleman" in the hype package, and if you follow the UFCs on the internet, you probably know about the "St. Pierre - closeted gay" accusations. I have no problem with gay people, but if you are going to be gay, be gay, not pretending otherwise. Trigg has a shaved head as well, making both guys look like fighting penises anyways, and little splatterings of tattoos like guys who want tattoos but not really. I bet every Frank Trigg tattoo is a memorial of something or another. It's really hard to even watch St. Pierre for one minute and not assume he is gay, which if ultimate fighting is as populated with either homophobes or closeted gays as I think it is (and probably some hybrids of the two), it makes this fight even funnier. WHAT'S TOUGHER - THE GAY GUY OR THE GUY WHO HATES GAYS! They should've done a whole UFC PPV under that theme - secret gays vs. guys who openly hate gays, although I would bet about one in every ten UFC fights is that anyways, which fits the 10% of the population is gay stat that pro-gay people always trot out when someone is like, "what's up with all the gay shit on TV?"
Secret gays just won this fight, and Shaq O'Neal's big fat face is side smiling out of half a jawbone in the front row, happy for secret gays, who he is in support of.
#81: JON KOPPENHAVER vs. JARED ROLLINS - I have actually never even heard of either one of these dudes, which probably means, it is the end of the first 20 matches on their list, so rather than push their hype agendas of marketing angles, this will be a bona fide crazy ass fight. Let's see though.
Oh, this is from one of the stupid seasons from The Ultimate Fighter, and they had a fight in the house, and Rollins is the black guy who sounds like a twinkle-toes, and Koppenhaver is a white dude with a grenade tattooed on his neck. Wait, I think he's white, but he might not be, as he's from San Diego, and sort of that weird indeterminate light brown color. Still though, the grenade neck tattoo is ridiculous. Actually neck tattoos in general have gotten ridiculous, as they are far more prevalent in modern America than you would've believed even ten years ago. Not just gangstas or fat white girls who date black guys get them now. Regular dudes, like your respectable landscaper business owner with polo shirt that has the company name stitched, not printed, on the breast, and he's got a neck tattoo. Or the dude working at the grocery store. Or the kid on your oldest daughter's soccer team. Everybody has neck tattoos.
The story about Koppenhaver is his dad died, he went to military school, and wanted to be a Navy Seal, which is a terrible thing to aspire to be. I know those guys allegedly killed the fake Osama in that TV propaganda they laid on us earlier this year, and we were being programmed to think of Navy Seals as heroes, but those dudes are usually evil, fight-happy, thugs, trained to kill, and use that training to torment decent people in bar fights. This happened to my uncle Ricky, who got his face caved in by three of them outside of a pizza joint/bar in Farmville back in the day, over a girl of course, to where Ricky was outside the car with his feet trapped in and three Navy Seals were kicking in his head, and the girl reached over and just pulled Ricky up by his shirt and drove off with him hanging out the car and door open. That's what I always remember when I think of Navy Seals - wolfpack assholes who answer to no legal laws, but will answer eventually, as I'd like to believe might does not always write right, for eternity. Then again, my uncle Ricky killed himself with a gun to the head behind a pop-up camper, so maybe those dudes do always win in the long run, because the rest of us do not have the proper training to overlook those certain things that make us feel emotionally vulnerable. To turn off your emotions is to make you a fighting machine, and that's what those dudes are. Funny thing is, this Koppenhaver dude's nickname is "War Machine" and he's all bloodied up, plus sweaty, plus has bad tattoos, plus that weird brownish Eurospic look... oh wait, this is War Machine. If you do not know the full story of the War Machine, let me fill you in briefly... Jon Koppenhaver decided to legally change his name to War Machine, and then also decided to start doing porn movies, being stoked to get paid to fight and fuck, saying he didn't want to work anyways. Then at some porn party, he flipped out and fucked up a bunch of people, but disappeared. Then he got busted at a bar for beating up people because they wanted a second ID because his ID said "War Machine" and they refused to accept it. So he beat up bar staff, patrons, and cops were called in and eventually detained the dude, but put a bag over his head to keep him from spitting on them. I think he's still in jail to this day, where I'm sure he's got some even more interesting tattoos, and made some wonderful white pride friends.
Second round had War Machine get pummeled and bloody, but he stayed strong, and we're in a third and final round, with the twinkle-voiced black dude seemingly having scored more points, but War Machine is getting all War Machine-y here in this final round, trying to prove on the public stage how great he is. The crowd is chanting "War Machine! War Machine!" and I'm sure being a cult hero to Las Vegas fighting fans is like the ultimate ego stroke to this ultimate fighter. War Machine is crazy, and dripping blood, but then just flips over the black dude and elbows him in the front of the face until the ref stops it because the black guy is dazed and confused and staring a thousand miles away. Amazing. Oleg Taktarov has always been my favorite, because he never quit, even when he was going to die, and survived plane wrecks in Africa in recent years. In the Armageddons of my mind, Soviet Russia vs. United States is played out by armies of Olegs fighting armies of War Machines.
Oh shit, a War Machine interview post-match. The guy he was hating before fighting, War Machine is now crying and saying he wished they both could win. What a fucking nut job this dude is, babbling incoherently during the interview, and he can't stifle saying "fuck" all over the interview. This guy truly is the Ultimate Fighter, in every sense of the word.
Consulting the interwebs on all this, apparently War Machine was released from jail like a month ago. LOOK OUT WORLD!

1 comment:

Andrew TSKS said...

Dude, I'd never heard of that War Machine guy, but I wikipedia'd him and you weren't kidding--what a crazy motherfucker. Check this out:

"In August 2000, Koppenhaver briefly attended The Citadel, The Military College of South Carolina, before being expelled.

War Machine has also had several scrapes with legal authorities. On September 2, 2007, he was found guilty of striking a Las Vegas man in the face and choking him unconscious during a parking lot scuffle.[3]

In February 2008, he was sentenced to three years of probation and 30 days of community service, avoiding the possible felony charge and accompanying prison time.[3]

In February 2009, War Machine began work as a topless VIP lounge bottle server at the alternative nightclub, Krave, in Las Vegas, Nevada. Koppenhaver legally changed his name to "War Machine." [4]

On July 16th, 2010, Koppenhaver was sentenced to one year in jail for a felony assault conviction stemming from a fight at a Point Loma bar earlier in the year, as well as an additional fight at a Pacific Beach bar.[5] Koppenhaver was recently released after serving his one year sentence in San Diego's George Bailey Detention Facility in administrative segregation."

So he's out--maybe we'll see him back on UFC again.