Official Forums Official Forums (
-   The Ultimate Fighter (
-   -   Mitch the Intern TUF 12 Recap (

VCURamFan 09-16-2010 10:24 PM

Mitch the Intern TUF 12 Recap
Here's how the source website ( describes Mitch :laugh: :

*Editor's note: Mitch the Intern is an NYU undergrad whose favorite Wednesday night pastime includes the TV in his dorm room, a green beanbag chair and two hits of acid. Enjoy.*

VCURamFan 09-16-2010 10:27 PM

Episode #1:


Fade in to a salon on Rodeo Drive in sunny Beverly Hills. A SpikeTV producer is being tended to by an impossibly skinny young man dressed like he was assaulted by the Fashion Police. The producer is sporting a well-coiffed bouffant. There's a blur of skinny arms and the producer now has long, luxurious locks of gold and amber. In the next chair over sits Dana White. A young girl who looks like she gave up food two months ago and switched completely over to heroin is blow-drying the UFC president's bald head.

"So what's in store for this season?" says the producer to Dana White. "More Kimbo? Please say there's more Kimbo."

Dana White takes a sip from a glass bottle of chilled mineral water. Shakes his head and smiles. "Nope," he says. "Better. The theme for this season is…" And the man at the center of the MMA universe pauses. A second passes. Then another. The blow-dryer goes quiet. The hair clipper in the background ceases buzzing. The sudden silence of a half dozen scissors abruptly halting in their work. The oversized clock on the wall stops ticking. All eyes are on the bald man in charge of the Superbowl of Mixed Martial Arts. All ears are straining to hear his words. "The theme for this season is… hair!"

Cut to the TUF Training Center deep within the lurid bowels of Las Vegas. Season 12 of the greatest thing to ever happen to fans of jizzed on fruit and busted doors is upon us, and at the vanguard of this attack on our morality is a slew of lightweights, guided by the loving embrace of coaches Georges St. Pierre and Josh Kosh B'Gosh and the profanity of Dana White. The lightweights assemble before their master, a sea of colored hair, an afro with a pick in it, long hair in a ponytail, spiked hair, shaved hair and mohawks. There's braids, cornrows, the little curly hairs that Hasidic Jews have - someone even boasts a perm. Dana White surveys his army of garish soldiers, grins, and begins tirade number one.

"F*%^&E$*$ @%$&^$^* @#$%$#^ fighter?" he asks them. "@#$&&^*( ($%^&#{}@# hair ##$&$^** fight! @$&^^ !@&^(+) giraffe! @?<>!(%&@#* UFC %&$^* cage #$%^#& fractional geometry!" Of course, at this point, no one can understand what he says anymore. But they all nod. Their futures rest within the Octagon, and this man before them is the gatekeeper. Georges St. Pierre and Josh Kosh B'Gosh nod as well, because, well, we're not quite sure Georges speaks English that well and Josh will go along with just about anything Dana White says.

And then it's time for battle, and like last season, everyone must fight and win to earn their berth within the TUF House. Like some grand buffet of violence and poor choices at the barbershop, fifty or so match-ups are played out in abbreviated form before our very eyes.

Marky-Marc and the Funky Bunch enters the cage. He and Josh Kosh B'Gosh used to date, once, years ago, during a summer abroad when one was backpacking across Europe and the other was washing dishes at a small café in Marseilles, but that was then, they're older now, wiser, and Josh Kosh B'Gosh pretends he can't remember those nights spent drinking cheap red wine and reading dog-eared copies of Tintin and Asterix the Gaul.

"Is that your boy?" asks Dana White.

"I don't remember him," says Josh Kosh B'Gosh, listlessly, a piece of his heart aching harshly before it dies.

Marky-Marc wields a looping overhand right and what looks like a mohawk that changed its mind and decided it wanted to be a cautionary tale against getting haircuts whilst drunk. Thirteen seconds after the referee says go, Marky-Marc is standing over his unconscious opponent, punching him with that right hand. It's the fastest knockout in TUF history, and Marky-Marc strides over to the side of the cage where Dana White, Georges St. Pierre and Josh Kosh B'Gosh sit and shouts through the fence. "Remember me now?" Close up on the tears in his eyes.

A new set of hairstyles, then another, then another. The action is a blur of fists and kicks and submission attempts. Spencer the Page displays imposing striking and the kind of ground game most associate with paraplegics, but he ekes out the win when his foe sucks even more.

"Oh, my dearest Matilda," says Georges St. Pierre to no one in particular.

Josh Kosh B'Gosh gives Dana White a curious look.

"His moose," Dana White whispers.

Then Mike Sucknik enters the cage, his voiceover letting viewers know that he was some kind of champion skater in a past life, and that now it's MMA's turn to experience his athletic talent. Unfortunately, his opponent is Banh Mi, a nerdy-looking Vietnamese dude who dropped out of the School of Visual Arts to sell Ecstasy, and Banh Mi will not be denied. Boom! goes the fist in Mike Sucknik's floating rib. Crash! goes the tricked-out Nissan hatchback that Banh Mi uses to run Mike Sucknik down. "Oooowie," says the fallen former skater who should've stuck to fringe sports.

In the editing room, a technician is force-fed a six-pack of Red Bull; the fights are sped up even more. Andy My Main Man triangles some dude with green hair, then jives his way out of the cage, getting a high-five from the janitor. "My main man!" says the janitor. Two men wrestle in the Octagon and one of them wins, a hairy judoka with what could be an Armenian accent wins, someone vomits profusely behind the TUF Center, and someone with Kool-Aid-colored hair named Jeffrey Lentz beats some no-name kid to a bloody pulp.

"Hair!" screams Dana White. "I need more hair!"

It's then that we're introduced to Bruce Leroy. No, really, that's his own nickname - I didn't have to make that up. You see, Bruce Leroy was a cat from the timeless classic "The Last Dragon", which came out when the world actually believed martial artists had superpowers and Bruce Lee was the closest thing we in modern times would ever get to meeting Jesus Christ. Donning a yellow jumpsuit like Bruce Lee wore in "Game of Death", Bruce Leroy enters the Octagon with the aforementioned afro (you thought I was joking, right?) and a grin, and never loses that grin throughout his fight. He defeats someone named "Wheelbarrow" with a choke, then dances around like the '70s were something we shouldn't be ashamed of.

"I love this guy," says Dana White.

"Oh my Matilda…" says Georges St. Pierre.

Then there's a long-haired Alaskan fisherman named Spuds McKenzie, who snags his fish with a vicious guillotine. Joe Native American with no cardio but a ton of heart. Someone from Matt Hughes' camp named Dr. Watson. Someone with a Jheri-Curl, someone with a Nike logo shaved into his head, someone with a bowl cut. By now, we've seen so much condensed violence we've lost track of who's won and who's lost, it's all just a mish-mash of blood and body parts, like a busload of old people on their way to the casino has overturned on the highway and a tractor trailer came along behind it and made human organ salad.

Thankfully, it's over. The survivors gather before Dana White, their entrance into the TUF House now secure. Flanked by his two star coaches on either side, Dana White nods slowly and smirks. "Gentleman, @!#^%#$&$%*." And TUF 12 has officially begun.

Cut to that same salon in Beverly Hills. Other than the impossibly skinny young man transforming his hair into a Marge Simpson-beehive, the SpikeTV producer is alone. In his hand is an IPod, and on the tiny screen the credits are rolling on the first episode of this season's Ultimate Fighter. The producer wrinkles his brow. Says to no one in particular, "Okay. How is this better than Kimbo?"

The end.

Neezar 09-17-2010 04:55 AM



Marky-Marc wields a looping overhand right and what looks like a mohawk that changed its mind and decided it wanted to be a cautionary tale against getting haircuts whilst drunk.

County Mike 09-17-2010 12:20 PM

I love this dude's articles. He got it all exactly right.

VCURamFan 09-17-2010 12:22 PM

Yeah, he does a great job of putting into slurred words what we're all thinking. :laugh:

VCURamFan 09-23-2010 09:56 PM

Episode #2


This week on Ultimate Alcoholics Kept in a House: coach Georges St. Pierre speaks and we understand maybe every third or fourth word, Jebediah Lentz is the kind of guy your parents told you to avoid, Josh Kosh B'Gosh is tricked into buying a beat-up Volkswagen Bug, we meet the coaches' assistants, and Bruce Leroy walks around with a pick in his afro - even while fighting!

The episode begins with the TUFers spying the TUF House for the first time. Only it's not the same old TUF House we know and love (something about the walls of the hold house having to be torn down to remove pieces of Mikey Burnett's skull). No, it's a TUF Mansion! And the features include: a stocked bar in the kitchen, a gigantic backyard with an immaculate lawn, a stocked bar in the living room, a spacious den, a stocked bar in the den, a heart-shaped bathtub built for two, a stocked bar in the bathroom, a solarium, a stocked bar in the solarium, an observatory, a stocked bar in the observatory, and a stocked bar in the stocked bar. Of course the kids are thrilled, and Jeremiah Lentz and Bruce Leroy immediately start downing shots. Because that's what you do in the TUF Mansion (as per a clause in the contract everyone signs to take part in the show, right there under the non-disclosure agreement).

Anyway, personalities emerge. Bruce Leroy, adjusting and readjusting the pick in his hair, plays a harmonica and then talks of wrestling alligators and impregnating deer. Jimenez Lentz, meanwhile, lights up a cigarette, and after burning through half a pack and a bottle of Jack Daniels, offers to give tattoos using a rusty safety pin and an old Bic pen he found. "They see me smokin'," says the Jersey Shore bad boy. "They hatin'. They hatin'."

Back at the training center and there's some strategizing going on. You see, it's time to pick teams, and if you win the coin toss you get to either pick the first fighter or pick the first match-up or pick your nose or pick the scabs off of your elbows, which you mysteriously ended up with after waking up next to that transvestite prostitute you think you met in the parking lot outside the Spearmint Rhino. Using English that can best be described by the phrase "Jesus, turn on the closed captioning! Quick!", Georges St. Pierre describes an elaborate plan where he and his assistant coaches enter the dreams of coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh and implant an idea into his mind - an "inception", if you will - that he wants to choose Marky-Marc and the Funky Bunch first.

"It can't be done," says Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who starred in the TV show "Third Rock From the Sun".

"It can," says Leonardo DiCaprio.

So Georges St. Pierre enters Josh Kosh B'Gosh's dreams with head trainer Greg Jackson Five and jiu-jitsu master Jemaine Clement of New Zealand in tow. Within they encounter traffic, a runaway locomotive, men with guns, skiing, Chris Leben asleep on a lawn, and a giant Brazilian fist (attached to normal-sized Paulo Thiago). They return moments later, although the mission seemed to have taken four months due to the slower rate dreams play out in someone's head.

"I tink eet work-ed," says Georges St. Pierre. And sure enough, after winning the coin toss Josh Kosh B'Gosh chooses a battered Volkswagen Bug as the first fighter on his team.

"Close enough," says Dana White to the camera.

So teams are chosen, with some of the kids preferring to be on Georges St. Pierre's team because they like not being able to understand it when someone talks. Then it's training time, and Team St. Pierre sits in a circle, holds hands and sings "Kumbaya". Midway through the tune, jiu-jitsu master Jemaine Clement breaks into an impromptu song and dance number of his own. Something about "too many dicks on the dance floor".

Cut to Team Kosh B'Gosh and their training session. They're running, drilling, kicking, punching, wrestling, flipping tires, painting fences, waxing on, waxing off, chopping wood and pedaling a ten-person bicycle up and down the Las Vegas Strip. "Mindless training!" Josh Kosh B'Gosh shouts. "Mindless!"

Then, just like that, it's time to pick the first match-up. At the behest of Bruce Leroy, Georges St. Pierre announces that it will be the Last Dragon versus Jolly 'Ole Lentz.
We're at the house now and the tension is so thick you could cut it with… nothing, because there's no tension. There's just Bruce Leroy catching flies with chopsticks and Jan Michael Lentz smoking cigarettes and stealing radios from cars parked in nearby driveways (he stacks his loot in a pile in the backyard). It's a dichotomy, a contrast in approaches, two men with one violent purpose and one goal but diametrically opposed methods of reaching that goal, Bruce Leroy with his tea and meditation under the porch and Jesse James Lentz smoking and cooking up crystal meth in the downstairs bathroom. Who will win when they clash? Who will emerge the victor? The caricature of the '70s martial artist or the kid from New Jersey who very clearly broke out of a juvenile detention center to get here? It's the ageless question, and soon it's answered.

Bruce Leroy enters the Octagon first, grinning, flicking out flashy kicks, a formal black kung fu uniform hanging crisply on his lightweight frame. Jorge Rodriguez Lentz follows, riding in on a deafening Harley-Davidson motorcycle, an unsavory blonde sporting a black eye and a snarl on the handlebars. Once in the cage, the referee signals them to fight.

Round 1 sees Juanito Lentz wade in past Bruce Leroy's strikes and push his foe against the fence, doing well in out-wrestling Bruce Leroy and scoring with a gigantic exclamation point of a hip toss at the bell. In between rounds the coaches work feverishly to rejuvenate their wards, jiu-jitsu master Jemaine Clement serenading Bruce Leroy with a song about his "sugar lumps", Josh Kosh B'Gosh whispering the words "mindless, mindless, mindless," into Juarez Lentz's ear.

Then it's Round 2, and the two fighters engage, Jiminy Cricket Lentz failing a throw and winding up on the ground with Bruce Leroy on his back, and deftly turning into top position. But Bruce Leroy has that quality, that spiritual martial energy some call "The Glow", and he harnesses it to summon a triangle choke. Jed Lentz attempts to slam his way out of it; instead, he taps.

Bruce Leroy is the winner. And we're treated to another funky '70s dance routine.

Fade to black.

County Mike 09-24-2010 03:02 PM


Spiritwalker 09-24-2010 03:45 PM

Oh man.. that's great..

Josh Kosh B'Gosh
This week on Ultimate Alcoholics Kept in a House:
Using English that can best be described by the phrase "Jesus, turn on the closed captioning! Quick!"

VCURamFan 10-01-2010 03:35 PM

Episode #3:


Bruce Leroy is back at the TUF House, and he and Jonathan Livingston Lentz are downing shots of Jagermeister and reminiscing about the good old days, days which happened about two hours prior and involved Bruce Leroy getting his ass kicked and pulling a win via triangle choke out of his afro. "Man, I totally kicked your ass," he says, now sipping Courvoisier from a chalice. "Really, your ass… Totally kicked by me. Totally." Jethro Lentz says nothing, only smokes more cigarettes, so Bruce Leroy continues, alternating from the Courvoisier in the chalice to the ale splashing around in a tankard in his other hand. "I. Kicked. Ass. Yours. Wait, did I say that already?"

From the couch, the loveseat, the dining room table and the hammock hanging in the living room, the others shake their heads in disbelief. Not at Bruce Leroy's words, but at the fact that it's been about a week since they arrived in Las Vegas and Bruce Leroy still hasn't removed the pick from his afro. He's showered with it in, slept with it in, trained and fought with it in - the idea that it's actually a part of his skull is bandied about.

Training time, and Team Canadian No Speak English brings in Frodo Baggins to show the kids a thing or two about fighting little people. Apparently, back in Middle Earth, Frodo is some kind of badass wrestler, and coach Georges St. Pierre wants his wards to know what it's like to face a Hobbit. Hijinks ensue. Dr. Watson is unable to cope with Frodo's giant hairy feet and tumbles to the mat. Spuds McKenzie gets blazed smoking Hobbit Leaf and falls asleep curled up in a corner. Bruce Leroy gets stuck in the doorway of a Hobbit hole, his bottom half jutting out comically from a hillside.
"Eet ees troo-ly ah-musing to see dem get beaten up," says Georges St. Pierre. I think.

Soon it's time for Team Josh Kosh B'Gosh to get their training on. Unfortunately, coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh's boys don't seem that into it. Training is hard work, after all, and by now it's dawned on each and every one of them that unless they score a KO or nail a submission in one of the fights, they're not getting paid one red cent for their efforts. So after a few rounds of listless drills and staring at the treadmill and heavy bags, Josh Kosh B'Gosh lines them all up against the wall for a pep talk.
"Guys, listen, the key word here is 'mindless'," he says. "As in, you were mindless to come out here and agree to fight for free."

Then it's time for Team Incomprehensible to choose the match-up for the next fight. Georges St. Pierre calls Chris Rock on Steroids, and some Brit named "Eye-run Wal-king Some". I think. Jesus, who knows.

Back to training, although before Team Josh Kosh B'Gosh enters the gym their coach decides to pull a prank. A prank so benign it's almost as if we're watching a different reality TV show. You see, unlike in previous seasons, when it was cool to leave a dead hooker in the backseat of Ken Shamrock's car or wire four sticks of dynamite to the engine block of Rich Franklin's SUV, this time around we get Josh Kosh B'Gosh blocking Georges St. Pierre's with two cars parked too close on either side. The predicament this causes for the Canadian means… the UFC welterweight champ must now squeeze through a tighter space to get into his car? Really? Come on! It was funny when Forrest Griffin released an adult bison into Quinton Jackson's locker room. This is too tame!

Now they're training, and we're hit over the head with some foreshadowing. In the cage, Eye-run Wal-king Some defies all notions of Brit fighters by demonstrating a modicum of wrestling ability. Coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh sees this, then strolls to the porch and lights up a cigarette. Stars quietly off into the distance. At the sky. At the darkening clouds on the horizon. "There's a storm brewing," he mutters aloud. Like I said, foreshadowing.

It's almost fight time, and in the locker rooms the fighters prepare for battle. But Chris Rock on Steroids gets a special visitor: former heavyweight boxing champ and convicted rapist Mike Tyson! In his oddly effeminate voice, Mike Tyson talks directly into the camera about how tough mixed martial arts are. Also, about how much he regrets getting that facial tattoo, because he has about a dozen kids now and they all make fun of him for it.

And then Chris Rock on Steroids and Eye-run Wal-king Some are fighting. As the first fighter picked when teams were chosen, expectations are high that Chris Rock on Steroids is going to out-wrestle and pound the crap out of Eye-run Wal-king Some. But there's more to the Brit than meets the eye - or less to Chris Rock on Steroids - because he ends up taking Chris Rock on Steroids down and beating on him against the cage. The bell rings on the first round with everyone convinced that Eye-run Wal-king Some really isn't British. Because, you know, he can wrestle.

"He definitely lost that round," says Mike Tyson, proving that he could be a better commentator than those clowns who worked with Bas Rutten for the Moosin pay-per-view broadcast.

Coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh is just as surprised as anyone that the Brit can hold his own. "I feel like motor-boating Georges St. Pierre's ass!" he exclaims, and a gay bar in Provincetown, Massachusetts, erupts with cheers.

The tide turns in Round 2, though, with Chris Rock on Steroids just barely edging ahead of his foe with one more takedown. A third round is required. Flush with the rush of battle and the chains of exhaustion, the Team Please Turn on the Subtitles fighter stands in the corner, struggling to catch his breath when he looks over at Mike Tyson. Mike Tyson stares back, his "You gonna git raped" look clear on his face. "Twice if you lose," Mike Tyson adds wordlessly.

That's all Chris Rock on Steroids needs in terms of motivation, and he comes out for Round 3 a different man. With a barrage of punches both on the feet and on the ground, he turns Eye-run Wal-king Some into a quivering mass of human flesh. Then he chokes him out.

Chalk up another win for Team Matilda the Moose, and back in the locker room, Josh Kosh B'Gosh is disappointed. Not so much because his team suffered another loss. No. Mostly because of the whole motor-boating thing.

The end.

County Mike 10-01-2010 05:14 PM

Another awesome write up.


Coach Josh Kosh B'Gosh is just as surprised as anyone that the Brit can hold his own. "I feel like motor-boating Georges St. Pierre's ass!" he exclaims, and a gay bar in Provincetown, Massachusetts, erupts with cheers.
That part really cracked me up because I thought the same thing when Josh said that. I think his exact words were something closer to "If Aaron wins, I might just get up in George's face and motorboat his ass". I thought "He wants to motorboat George's ass? Gross."

All times are GMT. The time now is 12:37 PM.

Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.4
Copyright ©2000 - 2017, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.