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MMA and boxing - the Fighting Cocks

Two fighting cocks scrappng for their handler's affection

Writer's note: maybe you won't get this one. This is sort of like my apology to the MMA community as a hardcore boxing fan who always secretly wanted to see its downfall, but has finally realized his sporting world would be a lot emptier without it around. I couldn't plan out what to say so I just ran with it. You might call it a mindless rant but I call it the literary equivilent of free running - it's Free Writing baby. Just go with it.


Let's move.

Let's do this. Because no one else is coming to do this for us.

We fight all the time, brothers fight all the time.

Always eager to take the apple of their parents eyes they fight among themselves, hurt each other and seek to conquer the other. That's what fighters do. They fight to win the admiration of others.

This is why we fight.

We fight because somewhere along the line someone told us to be rivals. Once upon a time one observing onlooker pointed us out and told us that this is the ugly one and this is the beautiful one. This is where it begins. It began when your father bought your brother the ice cream, but ignored you This is how the abusive parent trains their children to fight each other. This is how they do it. Why they do it is for a far more insidious. They do it because they want to see us fight. Even loving parents get their kicks watching their children fight for their affection.

Boxing, MMA, these two sports have had a lot of parents. The two immortal sports born in ancient times, from Egypt, to Greece, to Rome, to New York, have had many parents, many mortal parents who knew they wouldn't be around to watch them grow after they passed on, who simply stopped caring what might happen after their own lives ceased. These siblings had many parents who couldn't cater to their immortal needs, parents who rather than tame their endless souls, chose instead to pit them both against one another.

Mere mortals could not tame tame these two brothers, so they turned them on one another and made them tame one another. But fire cannot tame coal and coal cannot extinguish fire. These parents, these promoters, have handed each of us a lashing whip they could never use in the hope we will use it on each other.

They manipulate our perceptions by making us mistrust one another. So long as we mistrust one another we will never notice the true problem - bad, often lazy parenting. Inept parents love seeing their children fight. It distracts them from the true specter of darkness sitting at the Thanksgiving table - themselves. They grew old and got away with their neglect, while every year, at Christmas, at Thanksgiving, or Hanukkah, their quarreling children return just to see them, and by staring into one another's hate filled eyes they fail to see the true figure of their misfortune. This is what we do at every big event, every big fight night we fight each other.

This is why we fight. We fight to avoid seeing the world beyond the end of our fists. We fight each other, because our masters fear we will turn our fists on them. They fear this, because one day we will find the answer, because the answer lies in the heart of battle. At the end of all this fighting, two brothers will find peace. From the dust of their own scrapping they will gaze up and find their masters staring gleefully down from the shadows.

This day is not coming soon. This day has already started.

There is nowhere else to go. We have tried running through one another. It hasn't been working. Now both of our sports are tired, our fighters are weary, the fans are frustrated. We have learned little other than we cannot go through one another. It's time to move in a new direction - up.

They're looking down on us. No matter how much these archons say they care they are always looking down , and rarely do they lend an ear. The wall is high, but if we work together we can climb it. The Hidden Hand may even reach down to lend us a hand.

We're small, is what I'm saying, in the eyes of the world we may be midgets to the giants. Together however, we can stand higher, we can speak louder. It's time for combat sports to stop fighting one another and work together to bring down the corruption entangling all our sports

It might seem hopeless, but you know the old saying, at least two eyes are better than one. Goes for mouths as well. Defiance is one thing, a little bit of defiance here and there won't go amiss, but how about anarchy? How about total defiance? The cheeky word here or there will never work, but an agreed upon stance of total anarchy between both sports will go a long way. Defiance from the fans will create defiance in the workers, in the cooks and the cleaners, the cut makers and the cut takers. I'm calling for an internet strike. The lifeblood of our sport has moved to the internet, only here can it reach flesh. We're fucking keyboard warriors, and that ain't so bad. Ever wanted to be a ninja? Here's your fucking chance. Knock back some cans as you go, now you're a drunken master too.

Total anarchy, beginning on the internet will drive the thought home. Our demands? Who gives a fuck, it's just time to get mad. You gotta do a bit of stupid to get a bit smart. It's time to go full retard people. It's time to be tick. I'm tick, you're tick. We're all tick. Everyone's fucking tick. You ever wanted to live out the scene from Network? We're mad as hell and we're no going to take it anymore? Good stuff, well here's your chance. Why not start it on the internet. My only demand is that you actually get mad at the people who are really out to hurt you, not each other.

MMA is the resurrection of boxing. It is the creation of the revival, without MMA there would no second voice for boxing, and without boxing there would be no second voice in MMA. Alone we are weak, but boxing and MMA acting as two witnesses can bring the masters to their knees. This is what we are, two brothers, the two witnesses of sport. MMA is the resurrection of boxing, It was the fire under boxing's ass that ignited the phoenix. The old bird is rising again, but this time it's lit on fire. It's time to sting them so hard they won't know what hit them before the room can go dark.. Time me to bang bro.

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