TUF Shit, series 7 episode 8.19b banana

TUF productions are pulling out all the stops with this season and have completely revamped the intro again.

Fade up from black to pink as a guitar wails hard. Some tinkly piano music can be heard as well as the sound of a tin of beans being slopped on an old bed. Suddenly “Livin’ on a Prayer” starts chunking out of your speakers HARD and there is a closeup of a foot with a cowboy boot tapping to the rythm. Zoom out to reveal Dana White in a cowboy outfit and a stars and stripes ten gallon hat. He has a large red white and blue saxaphone in his arms. Cut to a close up of his face. He winks twice then begins rocking out HARD on the sax. Suddenly the screen explodes and you see Rampage Jackson driving a hummer over the ocean. Water sprays up behind him. Zoom in on his face and he smiles and you see his teeth are gold. The words “Coach Quinton Rampage Jackson” slam and fizzle onto the screen in big purple letters.

Wipe to Forrest Griffin swinging from tree to tree like Tarzan. He is wearing a bear skin. Zoom in on his face and he smiles and you can see his teeth are just made from normal teeth. “Coach Forrest Griffin” dribbles onto  the screen with a fizzling noise. Bon Jovi appears on the screen and high-fives Griffin.

Random montage of whales splashing through the ocean, submarines crashing into each other and exploding, a monkey stuffing onions in a blender, a tank rolling over a supermarket, two helicopters firing missiles at a donkey which explodes, and a man in suspenders eating a cigar.

THE ULTIMATE FIGHTER writes itself onto the screen as if being sprayed on with aerosol. Fade down to black.

A recap of last week’s fights are shown. Cale Yarborough defeated Patrick Schultz by snapping off the Bostonians frosted hair and stabbing him in the eyes with it. Referee Steve Mazaggatti’s moustache had become aroused during the bout and swelled to five times its normal size, obscuring the pint-sized official’s vision, thus allowing the young fighter to get away with the flagrant bending of the rules.

Griffin and Rampage, no doubt spurred on by panicking producers, get really pumped and start yelling and breaking stuff. Like a bunch of college students whose drinks have been spiked with Viagra, everybody walks around being really pumped and not really knowing why or who to punch. The coaches decide to settle their differences with a game of hide and seek but unfortunately Rampage has to pull out halfway through when he steps on a banana skin, slips up, somersaults in the air and lands on a home barbecue set covered in delicious marinade.

Back at the house, a sunglass wearing competition is in full effect. The game remains tied for a few hours with participants frantically wearing the sunglasses as hard as they can. Eventually the game is abandoned as no winner can be decided but everyone agrees Jesse is the loser because he dipped his glasses in ketchup and ate them with a confused look on his face.

Dana White arrives in a private jet which lands on the roof of the TUF house, crushing the east wing and slaughtering a cast member known only as Bill, but he was quiet and had not received any air time yet so it’s all cool. Dana White backflips from the cockpit and fires a machine gun into the air. He produces a megaphone and simply yells “Fuck” really loud a few times. In the ensuing silence, somebody from the cast yells “WARRIOR” and everybody cheers.

A helicopter appears out of nowhere. David Letterman wearing nothing but a tattered pair of overalls and a baseball hat abseils down and grabs Dana White around the waist then the two of them fly off into the sunset.

Fade to sparkling green as “Take my Breath Away” begins playing.

TUF Shit… Series 7, episode 1,00,6,4999.1b

In a radical change of pace for the series, the show opens with a montage. First, the screen is black. Hard rock musics plays hard, most likely Aerosmith. A bald eagle smashes through the screen sending shards of glass into your eyes. The image explodes to reveal Dana White wearing a stars and stripes unitard with a flying-V guitar in his hand. The camera zooms in on his face and he winks, then his mouth moves with Big John McCarthy’s voice overdubbed yelling “Let’s get it on!”

Octagon girls start can-canning across the screen and Dana White shoots them all with a machine gun. A quick fade to black then back up to show some fights. Fists slam into noses. Elbows crush windpipes. Shin-bones mangle neck-bones. A guitar wails HARD. Heels crumple stomachs. All the while there will be rapid cuts of Dana White in a giant throne made out of the bones of TUF washouts, completely naked, cackling maniacally and stroking Tito Ortiz’s monstrous head. (Tito is on a leash at his feet.)

A shot of Forrest Griffin yelling so hard his windpipe flies out of his nostrils, and Rampage reading a book (“How to talk like black folk”), then two TUF idiots headbutting each other. A dinosaur foot stomps on the screen with a farting noise and then lifts up to reveal THE ULTIMATE FIGHTER branded onto a cow’s arse.

There is a brief recap of last week’s fight, which ended somewhat surprisingly with Matt Brown ripping out Jeremy May’s entrails and force-feeding them to the judges at ringside with a strangely reassuring voice. Back at the house, all hell is breaking loose as the producers of the show have decided to periodically release noxious and deadly gas into certain rooms of the house. A few cast members die but they have received no air-time and nobody knew they were there anyway, plus they quit their jobs and left their girlfriends so nobody is going to miss them.

Meanwhile, in the pool outside, Grody O’Brady has decided to get completely shitfaced. He drinks so much neat vodka that he hallucinates, imagining the pool is a pit of bubbling lava and he can’t escape. The camera zooms in on his drunken face as he squeals “I’m melting I’m melting heeeeeeeelp me!” Johnny Martinz hears the screams from inside the house and runs outside but trips up on one of the camera cables and ends up impaling himself on a rake.

Dana White arrives on a personal jetpack, melting the toes off the crowd of fighters that has gathered in the garden.

“Fucking shit, assholes. What the fuck is going on here? Do you want to be a fucking fighter or should I shove this jetpack up your asses and fry your pancreases? Huh? Fucking shit fucks. Christ. I don’t need this shit. Me and Lorenzo are supposed to be having a fucking champagne bubble bath in Urijah Faber’s face-ass crevice in three minutes, and I gotta deal with this shit.” Then he flicks the switch on the jetpack and flies away into the night.

The producers release a troupe of rabid kangaroos into the house just as a stage emerges from a secret compartment revealing Alice Cooper and the London Philharmonic Orchestra, who begin rocking out hard. Some quick cuts of the kangaroos stalking their prey in the house, a random shot of an egg frying, then the credits roll.

That’s a rap!

Kalib Starnes Reveals the Truth

In an exclusive email from Kalib Starnes I was able to uncover the real reasons behind his bizarre performance against Nate “Rock Hammer” Quarry.

Dear Internet,

Hi! How have you been?

This is Kalib. Remember me? I’m the guy who spilt orange juice on your father’s incontinence pad at our last gathering thus drawing rather a lot of unwanted attention his way. Soz and all that, hope he got it cleared up. The incontinence, that is. I know the orange juice was cleared up because I was holding a tissue at the time.

Well so anyway I was like totally in the middle of telling you about the time when I spent that whole UFC fight just kind of running backwards and stuff. What actually happened was I was posessed by an alien stoat. His name is Gorgonzola Moominpoot, and he lives in my chest. Everything was going well before the fight. I was preparing with ATT and we were saying our daily chants and praying to Satan for strength and courage. Then I was on my way home and I saw a strange light in the sky. Pow, zap, kabam, zoorp, there was a small furry creature embedded in my chest cavity. I was all like, what the hell man, fuck this shit, but the creature, who introduced himself as Gorgonzola Moominpoot, told me I better get used to it and fast.

For a while, I was able to hide him from my training partners. He would hide deep within my chest, nestled between my small heart and lungs. He promised only to come out on public holidays and said he wanted nothing more than two scoops of chocolate ice cream and a stroll round the park on sunny days. I reluctantly agreed and we shook hands as best we could.

Then on the night of the UFC I felt that familiar rumbling in my chest while we were warming up in the locker room. Oh no, I thought. Please Satan, not now. I looked at my trainers who looked at me puzzedly, pausing in the middle of slaying a chicken and pouring the blood over themselves. It must have been the crowd noises, or the lack of humidity, I don’t know, but Gorgonzola emerged with a vengeance. He told me, nay, ordered me, to lose the fight. He said that if I did not do it he would tug on the long stringy thing that was next to his leg until it snapped. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was talking about but it sounded painful so I agreed. Satan only knows why he wanted me to lose the fight, but what else could I do?

So the fight began, and although I really wanted to engaged and be knocked out cold by Nate Quarry’s punches, I could not. Each step I made to attack, I felt a strange tugging sensation deep within my torso. I knew that Gorgonzola had not been bluffing when he made his threat.

Towards the end of the fight I received a message telepathically. Gorgonzola had made contact with another alien parasite embedded in Nate Quarry’s head. He sounded very pleased and told me that he would attempt to communicate. At that moment Nate began doing some kind of strange intergalactic communication ritual, holding his arm and extending it out towards me in a kind of rock hammer fashion. Gorgonzola squealed with glee in my chest, which hurt. He told me that Nate had a very rare Golden Stick-Insect Type alien named Murgatrod Palalapstank in his brain which was very friendly but known throughout the galaxy for the gory way it implodes its host’s brain when it gets bored with it.

I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Nate, but Gorgonzola says you better keep Murgatrod amused or else your brain will be melted down.

So as you can see, I really did do my best in that fight but alas circumstances meant that I could not shine like the bright star I am.

Gorgonzola and I will be moving to the forests of Norway where we can be alone.

Love,

Kalib and Gorgonzola.

PS There was also a guy with a laser pen in the audience and he was shining it in my eye which totally put me off.

PPS I have attached a picture so that you know I am not lying or anything.

PPPS Can I have my nasal hair trimmer back? You’ve had it for like months already, jeez.

Martial Farts: Your No. 1 Source for YAMMA 2 Information

As of right now, according to google.

Search for Yamma 2 in Google

TUF Shit – An Ultimate Fighter Blog

Episode 3!

The guys get to go in the house, which much to everyone’s relief looks basically identical to the last house. Heaven forbid any innovation or originality.

The teams are picked and some guy gets picked last. Personally I would have been all “Well, Luke Cummo got picked last and look at him now!” but the guy just sulkily high-fives with everyone.

One guy gets sent home for having a fungus growing on his neck. That must pretty much be the worst feeling in the world, second only to thinking you’ve won the lottery then losing the winning ticket or getting to the finish line of a marathon in first place and then sponteneously combusting.

The one thing that never ceases to amaze me about the people on this show, and thus I must extrapolate all young American males, is that they covet shit-talking as some kind of essential skill that all fighters must have. To be fair, the producers probably egg them on to say all this dumb crap, but I am always flabbergasted at the sheer amount of ridiculously bombastic crud that they spray out of their mouths:

“Well we are two warriors and we’re gonna go to war in the cage and leave our blood and guts on the cage floor in our war battle.”

“I’m here to bring the pain and I have a job to do and I’m going to do it and if he is in my way then God help him and his family because I am a warrior and warriors do battles in the cage of destiny and I’m here to get in, do my job, get out, and warrior.”

“My god have mercy on his warrior soul because we are two warriors here to do battle and war. Our blood and warrior souls will battle against each other in the cage and I’ve got a warrior’s job to do and my spirit will battle against his soul in the battle-cage when we go to war I’m going to try to knock his head off. I like to hurt people, it’s fun. I’ve got a job to do and I’m just going to do it and if he tries to take the warrior-bread from my warrior family’s table then I’m going to have the warrior his face off HARD. Warrior.”

I mean, fuck, can they be any more pretentious?

TUF participants checklist:

TATTOOS OF DRAGONS OR CELTIC DESIGNS: Check.
INTIMIDATING SOUNDING NICKNAME: Check.
CRAP TEENAGE SHIT TALKING SKILLZ: Check.
ACTUAL FIGHTING SKILLZ: TBC / will worry about that latr.

There is a fight and the guy who talked the most ridiculous shit got pulverised. Perhaps he should spend more time actually training rather than flexing in front of the mirror and practicing his pronounciation of the word “warrior”.

Rampage comes to hang out in the house and it goes down well. He declares himself the coolest person in the universe, which is OK by me. I think Forrest was on the show but I can’t remember.

Next week Forrest and Rampage shout at their teams a bit and someone called “Chad” or “Brody” or “Shayne” does something of interest in the house. Probably.

YAMMA 2 Superfight Announced

From Yamma Pit Fighting

The superfight for YAMMA 2 has been announced. If you thought the producers could not match the bone-crunching, sinew-snapping, ball-crushingly awesome clashes between The Russian Bear and the American Specimen Machine, or Pat “No need for a Nickname” Smith and Butterbean “Butterbean” Butterbean, you were wrong, asshole. Dead wrong. Because the masterminds behind the YAMMA pit and the chocolate teapot have booked what is tentatively being labelled as the greatest fight in mixed martial arts history.

Alf, who some of you may know as the alien from the eponymously titled hit 80s TV show has been lured out of retirement by the biggest challenge of his life, the kind of challenge any self-respecting cat-eating alien could not possibly turn down.

Mr. Steven P. Seagal, reclusive aikido master, saught-after spiritual guru and world-reknowned nose flute expert, wants to put the spark back into his withering life. The kind of excitement that starring in straight-to-video action movies where his body double (played by a shaved llama) stars for seventy percent of the movie just can’t give him. The same kind of excitement that he may or may not have felt during his simultaneous tenure as the bodyguard of the President of the United States, head of the CIA, and Chief Top Guy at the FBI or NASA, which he doesn’t like to talk about but likes to let you think he did when really he didn’t.

There’s only one cage advanced enough to handle the sure-to-be teeth-grindingly awesome battle between these two staggeringly handsome athletes… The YAMMA Pit.

Will Alf’s superior striking and footwork be enough to negate the lightning fast combinations and unorthodox grappling of Seagal? Can the diminuative alien lure the martial arts master into his grasp, or will the slap happy eternal frowner play the slide guitar with Alf’s guts?

Find out on May 29th at YAMMA 2!

Also featuring:

Johnny “Cobra Strike” Lee taking on Rupert “Krazy Teeth” Macintosh in the YAMMA Octagenerian World Championship Belt fight.

Johnny “Cobra Strike” Lee

Rupert “Krazy Teeth” Macintosh

TUF Shit – An Ultimate Fighter Blog

The Ultimate Fighter Season 7 Blogathon!

Episode 2.

This episode was great. There was a bunch of really shit fights.

The last fight was pretty good. One guy had a beard.

Then Dana White sent half the people home to no jobs, no cars and probably no girlfriends!

The one-minute preview for the season actually looked pretty good. There seems to be a complete and utter lack of any form of innovation, but luckily lots of stupid shit being done by stupid idiots which is exactly why people watch reality TV, anyway.

Catch you next week, fuckers.