Hotel rooms make you write dumb blogs
I got an incredible amount of responses to my last blog, so many and so varied that I thought I should probably address a few. The vast majority of the people agreed with what I had to say, and applauded my stand against some of the more ridiculous trends infecting our beloved sport, but curiously quite a few folks felt I was unjustly “bashing” MMA fans, and a couple even arrived at the misguided opinion that by poking fun at some of the silly behavior and moronic wardrobe choices I was somehow “biting the hand that feeds me.”
To that I say, first and foremost I’m a stand up comic. I make fun of everything, including myself. When you get upset at something I say that reflects on you, just think about the shit I say about me. I regularly describe myself as a short, balding, little chimp-man. I drank my own piss and put the video of it up on youtube. Not only do I regularly wear a fanny pack – the most widely ridiculed wardrobe item the world has ever known – but I’m at the helm of an ill-conceived campaign actively trying to bring them back to popularity.
I’m a goof.
But guess what, fuck face – so are you. We all are.
It comes with the territory of being a human being; we are innately goofy, odd little talking monkeys spinning around on this giant rock that’s flying through the infinite vastness of the universe.
The biggest and saddest goofs amongst us by FAR, however, are the ones that get angry when you make fun of them.
The bottom line in this life, is do whatever the fuck you want to do as long as it’s not harming anyone else.
Happiness is precious and there is no universal method of achieving it.
If it really brings you joy, and you’re not hurting anyone else, fuck what some dummy like me has to say.
When you’re taking a picture standing next to Vitor Belfort put TWO fists up, just for spite. Right before the flash goes off, pull your pants down too. He’s a nice guy, he probably won’t say shit.
Does that “Tap or Snap – the choice is yours!” T-shirt really appeal to you? If it does, rock that shit homey.
What, are you gonna live forever?
Fuck it – after you get that bitch home, head on down to your local “Hot Topic” and get yourself some glue and glitter, and pimp that motherfucker up proper. Put a big, red, glittery dick on the front and wear it around the mall with your chest puffed out. If it puts a smile on your face, that’s really all that matters.
To all you silly fucks out there that were actually upset at anything I said, my recommendation to you, is to get yourself a joint and a telescope. Take a couple hits, look through that lens, and even if it’s just for a brief moment try to get yourself a different perspective. You’ll thank me later.
I wasn’t planning to write this blog entry, and in the end I didn’t actually have that much to say, but I’m trying to really update this thing more often. I’m sitting in a hotel room right now, and I’ve got to get some sleep. I’ve been working on a movie for the last couple weeks in Boston, and after long days on the set I’ve got to force myself to bang something out on the keyboard.