Mitch the Intern's TUF 11 Reviews
OK, so I've been reading this guys reviews all season long & they're hilarious. I'm going to post all 11 here so y'all can enjoy, as well.
Yes, it's that magical time once again, folks, that rare and appreciated occurrence known as a new season of "The Ultimate Fighter" - a reality show that has managed to retain its youth and vitality with a never-ending parade of fresh ideas and concepts. In this installment - dubbed "Season 11 - No Kimbo" - we're treated to a rivalry so true and so hot, the very doors of the TUF Training Center have petitioned for restraining orders (to no avail, of course! They're just freakin' doors!). That's right, the punch drunk and incoherent Chuck Liddell and his arch-nemesis, Tito "Barely Relevant" Ortiz, are coaching the opposing teams. That, plus a revamped Training Center complete with ShowerCams (tm), a weird selection system where everyone must fight and win to get into the house but the remaining losers are availed a second chance if they clean Dana White's garage or something, and profanity-laced tirade after profanity-laced tirade, make for one hell of a promising season!
Heh, funny thing about those profanity-laced tirades. You see, Dana's actually contractually obligated to do them at least twice a season, and he wastes no time getting the first one out of the way, assaulting the ears and sensibilities of the new crop of middleweight prospects. It's hard to tell just what this rant is about - it could be about the stock market, Marxism, or the correct method of growing a petunia garden - but it's there, an ugly reminder that Dana did spend a few years in the Merchant Marines after high school.
And then it's fight time!
First up: the lead singer from Cypress Hill, with his big electric afro, against an orthodox Jew nicknamed the "Hebrew Hammer". "I want to show the world that Jews can fight," says the Hebrew Hammer, or something like that, and Cypress Hill promptly smokes him like a blunt in a fight so one-sided the Hebrew Hammer has flashbacks to his bris.
"I like to get into fights," says Hawaii Five-O, and get into a fight he does, wrecking some unassuming white kid.
"Hulk smash!" says Ronnie Kray (yes, the famous British gangster), and he wastes no time tossing his opponent to the canvas and jacking the poor guy's shoulder.
"Everyone thinks ze French are not tough," says Frenchie Frenchman. "But we are, and I will prove that." And then he goes out and takes a beating and surrenders. In Frenchie Frenchman's corner is John Hackleberry Finn (Liddell's own coach), and he doesn't like that Frenchie Frenchman is giving up. But just like you can't turn a glass chin back into the iron it once was, you can't change someone's heart, and the surrender is complete when Frenchie Frenchman begins waving a white flag and retreats to the locker room.
"There's no quitting in MMA!" yells Tito in typical Tito fashion. Uh, yes there is. It's called "tapping out".
We're then given highlights: some effeminate dude wins, some dude wins who speaks English but gets subtitles when he talks (why? I can understand him. Am I going crazy or something?), someone named Bobby McGee wins, and then time is slowed back down for Victor O'Donnell and Chevy Camaro, who plaster each other repeatedly until Victor O'Donnell is wheeled out on a stretcher with a busted orbital bone, Chevy Camaro still punching him and Victor O'Donnell lobbing bombs right back.
Sporting a record of 233 wins and 586 losses, RC Cola takes to the cage to take on some scrub and needs about 30 seconds to knock him out.
Then the producers hit the "fast-forward button" again, and we see clips of Costa Philippou lay down a beating on Leonidas and get armbarred, Rich Atonofneato (pronounced "a ton of neat-o") win via wrestling, another wrestler win, Chuck and Tito exchange glares, Dana declare that the hate between the two is so volcanic he fears losing his hair (um?), some other dudes win and some other dudes lose.
And then it's the final bout, a scrap between two friends named Fruit Striped Gum (seriously, does he have to stop people from trying to eat his hair?) and Mr. I Once Had A Nose. This one is a brawl, with Fruit Striped Gum absolutely wrecking Mr. I Once Had A Nose and utterly crushing his schnozz with a plethora of strikes. "I love you man," says Fruit Striped Gum. "Ngg muh nothe," says Mr. I Once Had A Nose.
"Okay, you guys don't completing %$*#& suck," says Dana to the assembled winners. Then he turns to a producer off-camera and says, "Does that count as my second tirade?"
"No," answers the producer. "You need more F-bombs."
There’s punch drunk, which is a neurological affliction that affects your cognitive abilities and coherence after suffering repeated blows to the head, and then there’s punch intoxicated-like-a-white-trash-uncle-at-his-nephew's-wedding-reception-in-the-trailer-park. Chuck Liddell is the latter.
“The Iceman” is so wasted, athletic commissions give him Breathalyzer tests before allowing him into locker rooms. He’s so wasted, he once mistook a hot dog cart for his car and got 15 miles down the highway before the police pulled him over and informed him of his mistake. He’s so wasted, he’s convinced “Dancing with the Stars” was a fight tournament in Japan.
In short, the man is pure comedy.
First, though, the TUFers are let loose upon their new temporary housing/prison/fishbowl/den of pranks and homoeroticism. Who designs this place? Dr. Seuss? Cypress Hill sprints to a bedroom to claim it but tumbles down a slide made of candy canes into a chocolate pond. Ronnie Kray (yes, the British gangster) picks the room with pictures of assorted fruit on the wall (“These snozzberries taste like snozzberries!”) and Fruit Striped Gum is trapped in a giant glass cube full of bubbles. Congrats, guys.
Then it’s time to pick the teams. Dana is present to flip the ceremonial “f-ing coin”, and coach Tito Ortiz ends up with the first choice. He picks people that mean nothing to us, as we’ve only seen bits and pieces of their fights and none of their training, and Liddell does the same, calling out garbled syllables and gesturing with his hand, even inviting the gym’s janitor, Nevada athletic commission honcho Keith Kizer and a SpikeTV boom operator to join in his cause.
“Is it me or did Chuck’s choices suck?” Dana says to Ortiz when the dust settles.
“I alternate between hating and badmouthing you and liking and respecting you depending upon the stage of my contract,” Ortiz replies.
“I know what I’m doing,” says Liddell, and he picks up a stationary exercise bike, carries it outside and attempts to ride it to the local store for a snack run.
Oh no! Fruit Striped Gum is all banged up from the fight that got him into the TUF House, and he may or may not have a torn rotator cuff, scurvy, scabies and potato famine. Hearing this, Ortiz jumps on his back – literally – and rides him – literally – to, I don’t know, motivate him to work through it? Come across like a douche? Get close to another man? Who knows.
It’s time for choosing the first fight, and as Ortiz got first pick of the fighters, Liddell gets to decide who gets into the Octagon. He chooses Crocodile Dundee versus the water fountain, a decision that leads to confusion. Eventually, Dana convinces him to pick someone else, so Liddell picks Fruit Striped Gum.
Back at the house and it’s prank time! Hawaii Five-O, Cypress Hill and Ronnie Kray! Air horns! In the middle of the night! Aggravated fighters standing around in their underwear, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and trying to act menacing! Somewhere an entire targeted demographic cheers.
It’s the next day and the doctor lays out Fruit Striped Gum’s MRI and talks about what he sees. “No damage to your rotator cuff, no damage to your muscle tissue, just fluid on your bones, a bad hairstyle and a flavor-stripe down your middle.”
Then we get some insight into Team Liddell’s Crocodile Dundee. Yes, he’s Australian, and apparently Australia is so small, everyone famous there is connected to everyone else. For instance, Crocodile Dundee used to be Steve “Crocodile Hunter” Irwin’s pool boy. He also used to be a roadie for Men at Work, and he once ate at the Outback Steakhouse. Small. Freakin’. World.
Lest we forget that there’s supposed to be some sort of drama between the coaches, Ortiz hangs a piñata that looks like Liddell. It’s tougher and can even fight better than Liddell, absorbing a number of blows to the cranium before going down for the count and being carried out on a stretcher.
Fight time, and Crocodile Dundee and Fruit Striped Gum circle, engage, and mix it up. Fruit Striped Gum quickly finds himself in a triangle choke, tapping out.
Post-fight and Fruit Striped Gum is dejected. Ortiz, ever the coach, pleads for him to join him on the mat for some drilling of the defense to triangle chokes. I guess it never occurred to Ortiz to teach his wards this stuff before their fights, eh?
Fade to black.
It's always been there, alluded to, hinted at but never spoken of or addressed outright. Until tonight. Yes, I'm talking about "the ghey" (pronounced "the gaaayyyyyy!"), and this season more than any other looks to embrace that coveted, catered-to demographic with a fighter who exhibits a number of traits that come across as… how shall we say… ghey (pronounced "Heyyy boys!")? That's right. Nestled within the fresh and fiery TUF formula, hidden behind the fire that burns between once-great champs-turned-coaches Tito Ortiz and Chuck Liddell, is a competitor with a collection of mannerisms that allude to summers in Provincetown, circuit parties in South Beach and a tiny, pink Bichon Frise carried around in a Kate Spade purse.
We'll call this competitor "Joe Feminine". More on him later. But first…
Dana White gathers the troops for an announcement, an air of doom and gloom pervading the TUF Training Center. What's going on? Did someone manage to escape the house, hitchhike to White's neighborhood, find his mansion, punt his cat into the pool and flee into the night? All assembled stand at attention, fearing what may come.
"Chevy Camaro," bellows White. "You are a two-door muscle car and an American classic, but that tooth ache you've been complaining about? It's a cracked radiator. You're out of the competition."
Everyone breathes a sigh of relief that it's not them getting booted off the show, then quickly make like they're sad to see Chevy Camaro go, patting him on the back as a violin plays softly in the background. He departs, his motor sputtering and steam billowing out from under his hood, and when his engine dies in the parking lot he must be towed.
"Yes!" Liddell exclaims, and proceeds to do a victory dance. "My team is now 2-0." He hi-fives a grappling dummy, and trainer John Hackleberry Finn hands him a juice box.
"Uh, that doesn't count as a win," says White.
"Waaagh!" Liddell shouts in dismay, and crushes his juice box in his hand, spraying all nearby.
White informs Ortiz that he must now pick a replacement from the ranks of those who sucked too hard to make into the TUF House for real. He ponders his choices, and picks Sucky McSuck. "God, I'm glad to be back," says McSuck. Whatever.
The clock strikes 2:00 am and it's freaky time in the TUF House. The camera zooms in on a pair of young men in their underwear, groaning, touching each other firmly. Somewhere, a bar in Chelsea falls completely - and uncharacteristically - silent. Yes, folks, the ghey (pronounced "mmm, girl, you better work it!") has arrived. Sure, it's just a friendly deep-tissue massage among cast mates, complete with hot oils and lubricants, burning incense, a disco ball and the Village People singing "YMCA" on the stereo, but this little scene seems somewhat different than the usual TUF fare. No, this tableau is clearly ghey (pronounced "oooh, I'll have the apple martini!").
"Uh, this is clearly ghey," says Ronnie Kray from the next room.
"Here is something you can't understand - how I could just kill a man!" Cypress Hill chimes in.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with two young men rubbing each other in the middle of the night," says Joe Feminine, posing in the doorway of their room as he were strutting his stuff on a runway in Milan. "Now which one of you wants to ejaculate into my fruit salad?"
And somewhere, at a bar in the Castro, a pin drops onto the floor and clatters loudly, the only sound in the usually raucous establishment.
It's time for Liddell to pick the next fight, and in typical Liddell fashion he chooses grappling coach Jake Shield's right sneaker to take on the waste paper basket. The assembled all scratch their heads. After about 15 minutes of back-and-forth, White convinces him to pick actual humans. The Iceman calls for Hawaii Five-O to fight Dumb as a Bag of Hammers.
Training montage time. Heavy bags are hit. Focus mitts are punched. Push-ups are pushed. Drama flares when Cypress Hill rebuffs Joe Feminine's advances. "Guys, please stop," implores coach Ortiz. "There's no fighting in mixed martial arts."
Anyway, Hawaii Five-O and Bag of Hammers fight. Or, more accurately, they wrestle like kids on a schoolyard, eager to impress that girl by the monkey bars and not too keen on getting their hair mussed up. It goes into the third round, and when the hugfest comes to a close the judges are left holding the ball, forced to decide who gets to go to recess and who gets detention. Hawaii Five-O is awarded the "W". He raises his arms in victory, his muscles glistening in the light.
"Woof," says Joe Feminine. "Did it just get hot in here?"
No, Joe. Just ghey.
Fade in to the tail-end of the Hawaii Five-O/Dumb as a Bag of Hammers fight, and to the cast mates cheering from the sidelines. Cypress Hill, a full-on member of Tito Ortiz's Team Over-Sized Cranium, is rooting for Hawaii Five-O, who is a member of Chuck Liddell's Team Brain Damage. Joe Feminine, who calls Ortiz coach as well, takes great umbrage at that, and afterwards he confronts the giant-haired fighter over the transgression.
"You don't root for someone on the other team," says Joe Feminine, sounding utterly and completely ghey (pronounced "oooohhhhh, miss thang!").
"Who you trying to get crazy with, esse? Don't you know I'm loco?" replies Cypress Hill. And just like that, the matter seems resolved.
Back at the TUF House, Cypress Hill has gathered with his friends Hawaii Five-O, Ronnie Kray and Crocodile Dundee to pass around a bong and discuss how awesome the Steven Spielberg sci-fi film "Minority Report" was, and especially how it was the perfect vehicle for Tom Cruise to display his acting chops.
"Yo, it totally deserved that Academy Award for 'Best Sound Editing'," says Ronnie Kray.
They all nod in agreement.
But all is not in agreement in the house as a whole. RC Cola despises Cypress Hill, and after finding one of his coveted shirts in the Latino rapper's room, he goes ballistic. "You're a thief!" RC Cola exclaims.
"Uh, I mistakenly put your shirt there," admits Ronnie Kray.
Undaunted by reality, RC Cola continues with his vitriol toward Cypress Hill. "You're a thief!"
Back at the TUF Training Center and coach Ortiz sits amongst his wards, playing the role of mediator.
"He's a thief!" says RC Cola, pointing at Cypress Hill. "He stole my shirt."
"But it's already been established that someone else took your shirt," says Ortiz plainly.
"I don't care!" replies RC Cola. "He's still a thief!"
Ortiz shakes his massive head and sighs, resigned to the fact that things like "reason", "logic" and "common sense" are prohibited by the standard TUF/SpikeTV contract.
It's fight announcement time, and as Liddell's team has been racking up the wins, the Mohawked One gets to choose again. He picks Rich Atonofneato (pronounced "a ton of neat-o"). That's it. Just Rich Atonofneato. After about 20 minutes of back and forth, with Dana White explaining that a fighter can't just fight himself and trainer John Hackleberry Finn going along with whatever Liddell says, Liddell finally choose RC Cola to face Rich Atonofneato.
Training montage time. Rich Atonofneato pretends to hump a heavy bag, then he goes over every Italian-themed nickname he's ever had ("Richie the Guido", "Richie from the Shore", "Richie East Lasagna", "Richie Talks with an Accent", "Richie Might Be Italian", etc…). Meanwhile, RC Cola grapples, spars, talks about his family.
"He's going to try to wrestle you," Ortiz says to RC Cola. "So when he gets you down, get back up and punch him."
Fight time, and Rich Atonofneato does the exact opposite of wrestle. Boom! goes the big Italian sub upside RC Cola's head, and what follows invokes images of a man pounding on a human-sized dollop of pizza dough. But the pizza dough recovers! And manages to get on top with a kimura! Rich Atonofneato starts to rise, and RC Cola - apparently confused and thinking he's fighting in Pride - delivers a pair of illegal knees to his downed opponent's head. Rich Atonofneato is messed up and leaking balsamic vinegar and olive oil everywhere. The referee calls the bout, declaring the fallen fighter the winner by disqualification.
Coach Ortiz doesn't like this, and when the flimsy wooded door to the locker room gives him guff, he smashes it.
Later on at the TUF House, Rich Atonofneato returns from the hospital with his hand in a cast. His paw is so busted up it's going to require surgery. Thus endeth his run on TUF 11.
But wait, there's more!
Another fight is announced, with Liddell (miraculously) picking one of his fighters - a generic one with no distinguishing features or personality - to face Cypress Hill.
Says Generic Fighter, "I really feel that-"
And the camera switches to Cypress Hill, shadow boxing, flexing, rolling himself a joint and monitoring the UV light and nutrient levels in the water of his little hydroponic "farm". "Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump, left hand on the forty, puffin' on a blunt!" he says.
Then they're fighting, and Cypress Hill quickly lands a fist full of dynamite to Generic Fighter's face that sends him tumbling. Generic Fighter is done, Donesville (population: him), and the dude is out the door and off camera before you can even say "I ain't going out like that, I ain't going out like that."
With that, Team Ortiz has its very first win.
Can gangsters fight? From such classics as "The Godfather", "Goodfellas", "Casino" and "Finding Nemo", we know that they can intimidate and assassinate pretty well, but we've never known much about their actual ability when it's time for a bit of the old one-on-one ultra-violence. Well, thanks to British organized crime figure Ronnie Kray, who ruled 1960s London with an iron fist and who's struggling to make a name for himself in the world of homoerotic MMA reality shows, we now have an answer. But first…
The wildcard fight! Let's all talk about it! Gather around, kids, and listen to a tale of two fighters, a duo comprised of "loss" and "fail" who got their asses kicked en route to the TUF finale but were given a second chance because… because… because why? Is it that the TUF formula has gotten so stale that these little twists are thrown in to spice up what would otherwise be a soup made up of nothing but water from the garden hose? Is it that TUF's advertisers are wavering, not quite sure that those 30-second commercial blocks may be worth it because really, how many viewers are going to tune in when Kimbo's not on the show? Is it that releasing a dozen rabid weasels into the house while the contestants are sleeping is simply an idea the production's insurance company just cannot get behind? Whatever the reason, two fighters who lost in the quarterfinals will get a second chance. Will it be Dumb as a Bag of Hammers, who lost to Hawaii Five-O in the trivia round? Will it be RC Cola, who's had 100 fights in his career and lost 70 of them? Well, it sure ain't going to be Rich Atonofneato, who broke his prosciutto when he fought, and it damn sure ain't going to be Fruit Striped Gum. Speaking of which…
Fade in to a fighter lying in bed. Moaning. Bandaged. Clearly messed up. With his shock of green hair, we realize it's Fruit Striped Gum. "I went to the doctor yesterday and he operated on me for three hours," and with his arm in a sling, a bandage on his shoulder, and a patchwork of stitching all over his body, we believe him. Apparently he really was injured in his fight, as the doctor removed his spleen and gall bladder, performed a vasectomy, reattached his right shoulder and sewed a cantankerous old man's head onto his left shoulder. "You son of bitch," utters the cantankerous old man head.
It's time to choose the next fight, and with Cypress Hill's TKO win over some anonymous someone, coach Tito Ortiz has the ball. The Giant-Headed One picks Brit gangster Ronnie Kray to face an unassuming kid named Josh. How unassuming is Josh? Says coach Chuck Liddell, "Wait, that kid was on my team? I thought he was a janitor?" Adds trainer John Hackleberry Finn, "I agree with whatever Chuck says. Even if it's gibberish."
Training montage, and Ortiz is making his wards work hard with push-ups while on fire and sit-ups while trapped under a bus. "I don't know if all this intense training is the smartest thing when someone has a fight coming up," says RC Cola, who's fought about 100 times and lost 70 of them. Uh, dude, if you're saying that, then it must be a brilliant idea.
Also around this time, Ortiz makes a point of apologizing to Fruit Striped Gum. "I gave you crap because I thought you were faking your injuries, but I can see now that I was wrong, so I'm sorry," says Ortiz.
"You son of bitch," says the cantankerous old man head sewn onto sewn onto Fruit Striped Gum's left shoulder.
And then it's fight time, and in typical Liddell fashion, Mr. I Can't Dance Better Than Donnie Osmond has taken a flight to Japan in the mistaken belief that Ronnie Kray's TUF quarterfinal bout was happening there. Consequently, he misses the bout.
Also missing: Ronnie Kray's cardio. Round 1 goes well for him and poorly for Josh, with the Brit gangster muscling his opponent all over the cage and shaking him down like he's an East End shopkeeper. But the wheels come off the double-decker bus in Round 2, and in Round 3 it's all about the one kid that no one noticed picking apart a life-long criminal both on the feet and on the ground. Josh takes the decision, and we have our answer: no, gangsters can't fight.
"You son of bitch," cries the cantankerous old man head.
Although New York City's Greenwich Village has a standard, everyday level of "ghey" (pronounced "Ooh, I can't wait to see Sex in the City 2!") that sits at "High", once a year the needle gets pushed up into "Oh my God, that's fabulous!" That's right, I'm talking about the Gay Pride Parade, which is what you get when you cross Brazil's Carnivale with a Broadway musical and the weirdos who were hanging out in the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. Well, tonight's episode was TUF's equivalent of the Gay Pride Parade, and like that wild and raucous all-day party of leather men, bears, queens, trannies, goofballs, bounty hunters, Greedo and the furry guy who got his arm lopped off by Obi-Wan Kenobi, it was definitely fun to watch. But first!
British gangster Ronnie Kray has just gotten his ass kicked. He is, however, cool with it. After all, he's still got some extortion and prostitution rackets to fall back on, so it's not like this whole fighting thing is as far as it goes. But RC Cola isn't cool with it. In fact, RC Cola thinks it's all coach Tito Ortiz's fault. You see, Ortiz has been training his team hard, forcing them to do arduous things like jumping jacks and meditation.
"We shouldn't be training this hard," say RC Cola, and a graphic showing his fight record of 30 wins and 70 losses is flashed across the bottom of the screen to remind us that if there's a secret to MMA success, RC Cola definitely knows it. No one agrees with this statement - not Ronnie Kray, not Cypress Hill, not Dumb as a Bag of Hammers - and the news of the dissent makes its way back to coach Ortiz.
"Guys, gather around," says Ortiz at the TUF Training Center, and when everyone sits in a circle the former champ stands up and sprints the circumference, patting each aspiring fighter on the head and saying "Duck, duck, duck, goose!" When he finishes with his game, he adds breathlessly, "Listen, we all know I can coach. Remember how I handled that deaf kid back when Ken Shamrock was making everyone eat steak and chicken?"
Everyone nods, and the matter is dropped.
And then it's time for the coaches' challenge. Given that past challenges saw Dan Henderson and Michael Bisping engage in a calligraphy contest (lame), Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira and Frank Mir have a chili cook-off (really lame) and Matt Serra and Matt Hughes work their stand-up act at open mic night at the Laugh Factory (not bad, actually), it can only get better, right? Well it does when it's announced that this season's challenge is dodgeball. That's right, dodgeball, with Ortiz and his coaches squaring off against Liddell and his coaches to re-enact the epic Average Joes vs. Globo-Gym kerfuffle of 2004. Unfortunately for the Average Joes, Ortiz's gigantic head holds a significant disadvantage in dodgeball play (it's one hell of a target), so this time around Globo-Gym wins, with Liddell miraculously able to grasp the rules (Dana White: "Throw ball at people. Don't get hit with ball." Chuck: "*Grunt*"). With his winnings of 10,000 pesos in hand, Liddell parades around like he's just won a medal at the Special Olympics.
Time for picking the next fight, and as Some Totally Forgettable Fighter scored the "W" over Team Ortiz's Ronnie Kray, Liddell gets to choose. He declares that Wanderlei Silva should fight the Japanese announcer lady from Pride. At that, White just shakes his head and points at Team Liddell's The Amish Kid and at Team Ortiz's Joe Feminine. "You and you," says White, while trainer John Hackleberry Finn distracts Liddell with a juice box.
And now we enter… the Ghey Zone.
At the mention of Joe Feminine's name, confetti and streamers rain down, and when he stands before the Amish Kid for the usual pose-down, he's suddenly bedecked in a pink feather boa. All present seem uncomfortable, but they mask it with uneasy smiles. A close-up of Hawaii Five-O, who looks into the camera and says, "Yeah, um Joe Feminine, he's, uh, different. But cool. I mean, er, yeah. Cool."
Training montage. To the tune of ABBA's "Dancing Queen", Joe Feminine sashays around the cage, batting away his sparring partners punches with a limp-wristed boxing style that leaves onlookers confused and feeling dirty.
"Joe Feminine was, um, my, er, first pick," says coach Ortiz into the camera.
"Because Dana wanted us to push diversity and appeal to the homo-" And then he's distracted by a producer off-camera who's whispering something with urgency.
"Because he's a, uh, tough fighter," says Ortiz, correcting himself. Meanwhile, Joe Feminine is shown kicking a heavy bag while wearing a tutu.
Cut to the Amish Kid back at the TUF House. He's talking about himself, giving his housemates and the viewers at home some insight into his life. "I was addicted to drugs," he says.
"Cool story, bro," says Rich Atonofneato.
And it's fight time. The Amish Kid makes his way to the cage, talking about not being allowed to use modern appliances and having to drive a horse and buggy. Joe Feminine makes his way to the cage and the lights are dimmed, a disco ball is lowered, and some interminable dance track is blared. White enters to give his usual spiel about two rounds with a third round if it's a draw and bonuses, and Joe Feminine showers him with a handful of glitter. The UFC president blushes and exits quickly.
Then it's on! In Round 1 the Amish Kid scores with a takedown, but seems upset when his attempts at passing the guard are met with his oponent saying gently, "Wait, please don't go. Just hold me." Back on the feet and Joe Feminine kicks and slaps, the kind of slaps that seem to say, "Oh you! That was so funny!" The round ends with Joe Feminine affixed to the Amish Kid's back, rubbing his shoulders with warm baby oil and muttering, "Mmm, you are so tense."
Back in their respective corners and the Amish Kid breaks down in tears. "I don't want to do this anymore. I feel icky."
Round 2 is more of a striking battle, and though the Amish Kid seems to land more and often, his apprehension at actually touching Joe Feminine leads to the Team Ortiz fighter getting the decision. Liddell doesn't like that and is suddenly confused, stomping around and demanding to know what it takes to win an MMA bout. "Isn't it about who has the weirder hair? Isn't it?" he says.
Post-fight interview and the Amish Kid is shaking his head. "I don't care that I lost," he says. "I-I just wanted to get out of there. I think I need to see a therapist," and he weeps.
Joe Feminine, though, couldn't be happier, and wearing a ruffled white button-down shirt and a pair of leather chaps, he leaps like a ballet dancer in front of the camera, yells "Woo!" and leaps away.
This week TUF celebrates National Loser Day with an episode focused on those loveable scamps who just quite aren't up to snuff, who don't exactly measure up and who ultimately suck when it comes to fighting. That's right, this is the episode that features the final quarterfinal match-up - between Leonidas, a guy who everyone agrees hails from Stinksville, USA, and Sucky McSuck (aka, Seth Bacitracin), the person who was defeated in the bout to gain entry into the TUF House but who was brought back because Chevy Camaro died. Also, apparently the term "wildcard" means "loser who gets a second chance at losing". Woot. But first…
Joe Feminine may have defeated the Amish Kid, but he apparently looked to be a shadow of his real self in the process.
"I am a shadow of my real self," he says, limping but throwing colorful streamers to and fro. "My knee feels loose," he says.
Just the knee?
Anyhoo, in the locker room post-fight he sits, his knee examined by a doctor. "Ah yes," says the doctor. "I've seen this type of injury before. It happens when you sashay too much."
"Pshaw!" says Joe Feminine.
It's fight announcement time, and despite it being Ortiz's turn to choose, and despite there being only two competitors left to fight, coach Chuck Liddell stands up and declares aloud, "I pick Abraham Lincoln and the Kraken."
A disgusted Dana White shakes his head and says, "Just ignore him."
So, Leonidas and Seth Bacitracin are paired up, and immediately everyone - the teammates, the housemates, the coaches and trainers, and even the dudes who drive the vans that take the TUFers to and from the Training Center - come before the camera to talk about how much Leonidas sucks.
"He's only been doing MMA for six months," says Hawaii Five-O.
"He hits like a girl," says Team Liddell's boxing coach, Senator Howard Dean.
"Leonidas can wrestle, but that's about it," says Ronnie Kray.
"My cat's breath smells like catfood," says Liddell.
Even Leonidas gets in on the hatefest. "I train hard and I want to go far in this sport. Oh, also, I can't fight worth a damn."
Training montage, and Leonidas is seen trying to hit some focus mitts. He misses horribly, stumbles, and manages to fall through a plate glass window and into a moat full of alligators. Meanwhile, Seth Bacitracin sits with Ortiz, lavishing the UFC fighter with praise and gratitude for giving him a second chance. "You know, when I lost to the Amish Kid I was really bummed, but you believed in me enough to bring me back."
"Do I know you?" says Ortiz.
More training, and Joe Feminine is boxing with a teammate in the Octagon when his knee gives out. He tumbles to the ground. "It's loose! It's loose!" he exclaims, and everyone backs away aghast. "I'm talking about my knee!" he says, and at that clarification everyone lets out a collective "Oh" and moves to help him.
Then it's fight time, and somehow, someway the man who everyone took the time to describe as "sucky", "lame", "worthless in the cage" and "a total freakin' joke when it comes to unarmed combat" manages to grapple the hell out of Seth Bacitracin. Back and forth, back and forth on the ground, one catching the other in a dominant position and the other escaping and reversing, and then Round 1 and Round 2 are done. The judges have it a draw, so it goes to Round 3 - the perfect time and place for the exhausted Leonidas to live up to his hype. He does so by laying down and going to sleep. Seth Bacitracin earns the unanimous decision.
But wait, there's more!
With little fanfare, White has everyone gather for the wildcard announcements. Who lost but will get another chance to lose again? Who gets to demonstrate their lack of skills over and over again?
"RC Cola, you get to come back and fight Ronnie Kray," says White. "And because Rich Atonofneato is injured, Amish Kid, you get to return. Also, I'm bringing back Mirko CroCop, Ken Shamrock and Steve Jennum. Because, you know, it's National Loser Day."
And there you have it.
This week's episode is jam-packed with action! Drama! Injuries! Infomercials! Yes, folks, this one has it all, so stop your grinnin' and drop your linen', 'cause here we go!
Fade in to RC Cola on the phone. The phone? Who does he think he is? Kimbo Slice? But someone has allowed him outside contact, so RC Cola gets to talk to his wife, Pepsi, who has just given birth to the fighter's son. Understandably, this has given RC Cola a sad, as she went ahead and named the kid Sprite. They had previously agreed on Mr. Pibb. He suspects that while he's been gone she's been carrying on with Dr. Pepper, and this sort of emotional baggage can make a fighter flat - especially when he has an impending fight to think about. Which he does in the form of the "wildcard loser-gets-another-chance suckety-suck" bout against British gangster Ronnie Kray.
"I can't lose," says RC Cola.
Sure you can, RC Cola. We have faith in you.
Just then, erstwhile UFC fighter and seminal TUF alum Forrest Griffin shows up. With an overgrown beard, an old Led Zeppelin concert t-shirt and faded jeans with holes in the knees, he looks every bit the hobo, and from his pack (one of this sticks with a sack tied at the end) he pulls the new UFC video game. "Guys, do you like pretending to fight instead of fighting for real?" he says, apparently reduced to hawking goods as an itinerant salesman. I guess this is what crushing losses to Rashad Evans and Anderson Silva and barely squeaking by Tito Ortiz will do to you.
Cut to the wildsucker fight, and RC Cola and Ronnie Kray take to the cage. "I'm just going to sit in the bleachers and not coach either one," says Ortiz of his wards. "The better man will win." Okay, Mr.Laissez-Faire.
And then they're fighting, a tentative, cautious stand-up affair that looks like junior sparring night at Hong T. Kim's Tae Kwon Do and Laundromat, and though Ronnie Kray's kicks have all the force and confidence of a someone who learned those techniques maybe 20 minutes ago, RC Cola's kicks do damage, with one sidekick to the knee actually causing Ronnie Kray to cry out. But that's about it in terms of RC Cola's offense. In the latter half of Round 1 the British gangster dominates with his wrestling and ground and pound, and in Round 2 he seals the deal with a slam and a kimura. An elated Ronnie Kray parades around the Octagon. He sucks, but at least someone else sucks more.
Dana White beckons the coaches to join him in his lair, and Ortiz and Chuck Liddell follow. You see, it's time to pick the next round's match-ups. "Forget who's on who's team," says White. "Let's just make the best fights."
Liddell scratches his mohawk, then blurts out, "Godzilla versus Mecha-Godzilla. The Hamburglar versus the Tidy Bowl Man. My left shoe versus my right shoe. And 42."
Ortiz and White exchange confused looks.
"I mean it," says Liddell firmly. "Those are my picks. Also, tugboat."
White shakes his head in disgust. "Just get the *^W$&*#$&* out of here. I'll do this myself."
And he does, pairing Cypress Hill with some heretofore unknown kid named Josh (did he fight already? Where'd he come from? Is he the producers kid?), Seth Bacitracin against Hawaii Five-O, Ronnie Kray versus Crocodile Dundee and Joe Feminine with the Amish Kid. Upon hearing this, the Amish Kid begins weeping quietly, his tears the tears of the molested. "Bad touch, bad touch…" he mutters, his words barely audible but full of fear.
"Hey, do you guys hate doing crunches?" says the hobo salesman Forrest Griffin, and from his tattered Army surplus dufflebag he produces a plastic and metal contraption that looks like the framework of the Hunchback of Notre Dame's chair. "Well, the Abdominator™ will solve all of your problems!"
Cut to the doctor's office, and Joe Feminine is in a gown and bent over an examination table with a grin on his face.
"Um, I'm just looking at your knee today," says the doctor with a grimace. And he does, examining the joint and taking x-rays and MRIs and then consulting tea leaves and chicken gizzards. "You have a torn ACL," he says.
And that's it for him, the man with questionable sexual preferences who most felt could've won the whole competition. White shows up later at the TUF House to hear it from Joe Feminine's own mouth, the two out back and standing alone by the pool.
"Are you quitting?" says the UFC honcho.
"My ACL is torn. I can't continue." But then Joe Feminine smiles coyly, and runs a finger slowly along White's collar. "However, maybe I could be convinced…"
White sprints, moving faster than he's ever moved before, fleeing the awkward situation until he's standing in the TUF House, breathless before the other contestants.
"Okay," he says breathlessly. "Uh, Joe Feminine is out."
And everybody's eyebrows raise.
"Of the closet?" asks Hawaii Five-O.
"I mean out of the competition."
And everyone lets out a collective "Oh."
"So another one of you losers gets a chance," says White, and he leaves, passing hobo salesman Forrest Griffin on his way out the front door.
"Hey, do you guys like healthy food?" says Griffin, and from a shopping cart packed with soda cans he produces a thick, flat appliance with a dangling cord. "I certainly do. That's why I cook with the George Foreman's Grill ™."
Dumb as a Bag of Hammers bolts out the door, following White into the driveway. "I'm your man, I want that fight."
And I guess that's all it takes, for White goes back into the house and announces that Bag of Hammers is going to face the Amish Kid. Like, tomorrow.
Then they're fighting. Round 1 is extremely back-and-forth, Bag of Hammers' wrestling facilitating his ability to get back to his feet and whatnot. But the Amish Kid - relieved that he doesn't have to worry about getting his oil checked or getting back-mounted with disconcerting sweet nothings whispered lovingly into his ear - has the edge in boxing. Round 2 begins and Bag of Hammers shoots with his head down, and soon after he's tapping to a guillotine.
"I like this Amish Kid," says White afterwards. "He could be the darkhorse to win this whole season."
"Hey, do you like seasoned horsemeat?" says Griffin, who steps out of the shadows of the TUF center. In his hands is a battered styrofoam cooler. "I sure do. That's why I eat Overeem Brand Horsemeant™. It's yummy!"
Fade to black.
This week on The Ultimate Smoke Monster: the tension between Jack and Locke comes to a head after they learn that coach Tito Ortiz is injured and may not be able to fight coach Chuck Liddell; Seth Bacitracin may be bound by whatever rules that keep him on the Island and prevent him from killing the Losties directly, but he still manages to punt Hawaii Five-O in the chops; British gangster Ronnie Kray and Aussie Crocodile Dundee fight over Kate; and, eccentric billionaire Dane Whitemore blows up a freighter. Why? Just because!
Fade in to a lush and verdant jungle. It could be Guam, it could be a soundstage in Los Angeles, it could be some funky club in the Mandalay Bay Hotel & Casino where out-of-towners in black button-down shirts and Lucky Brand Jeans™ try their best to score with rail-thin blondes with dead hair and god-awful tattoos on the smalls of their backs. It could be any of those places, but it's more likely a mysterious island in the South Pacific - the Island - where a jet crash has deposited a ragtag bunch of aspiring fighters and left them to fend for themselves, Gilligan Island-style, only instead of the Professor and Maryanne we get RC Cola, Joe Feminine and the loveable rogue Sawyer.
"Guys, my spine is broken," says Ortiz. "I shouldn't even be walking now, I should be confined to a wheelchair."
"Tell me about it," says Locke, and he and Ortiz link arms and swing themselves around, skipping like participants in some secret Country-Western music hoedown. Then Ortiz sits down.
"I'm numb in my back and legs, and I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that my girlfriend is an ex-pornstar," he says.
Flashback to Kate, graceful, pretty Kate, her face wrought with freckles and emotion. She blows up her abusive stepfather's house, gets arrested by a US Marshall, escapes, and has a brief affair with Ronnie Kray in a bear cage. Unfortunately, Crocodile Dundee wants some of that.
"I want some of the that," says Crocodile Dundee, so now he and Ronnie Kray must do the man-dance.
Ortiz gives the camera some of his sagacious sage-liness. "My boy Ronnie Kray. Gonna lose."
And then Ronnie Kray and Crocodile Dundee are fighting. Or, more aptly, they engage in some rough dry-humping, with Ronnie Kray getting his opponent down repeatedly but unable to do more than pant in his ear and talk about grim neighborhoods in London like the West End and Trafalgar Square. Crocodile Dundee fires back with the names of Australian cities, like Sydney, Perth and Melbourne. To the judges, this is enough to warrant a third round, but this time around Ronnie Kray actually adds some ground and pound into the mix. He gets the decision and moves on to the next phase of the competition, which involves him ditching Kate and joining a sinister scientific group called the Dharma Initiative. Hooray!
Meanwhile, Dana Whitemore orders mercenaries to kill Crocodile Dundee. Ooh, what a douche.
Flashback to 1974. Dana Whitemore is a fine, strapping young lad with long, luxurious locks of brown hair. He wields it like a lion's mane, with authority, a majestic figure on the mean streets of Boston's Southside. Cut to a delicatessen, and Whitemore approaches the counter. Orders a pastrami sandwich on rye. No mustard. What could it mean? WHAT COULD IT MEAN?
Back to the present, and it's time for another semifinal match-up, this one between Hawaii Five and Seth Bacitracin. So the two find a clearing in the jungle, shoo away a snoozing polar bear and begin to fight.
They go back and forth, with Seth Bacitracin gaining the upper hand with a rear naked choke attempt, a close triangle choke attempt, and a VW bus that he finds in the woods and somehow manages to repair and use to run Hawaii Five-O down. But Hawaii Five-O stands and dusts himself off after getting flattened cartoon-style, and he returns the favor with some leather bombs from above - some of them missing and some of them getting through. Then they're scrambling, and when Seth Bacitracin gets to his feet he mistakes the prone Hawaii Five-O's face for a football and tries to score a field goal. Um, that's a no-no.
You see, there's something called the Unified Rules of Lost, rules which prohibit: a) the Man in Tapout Gear from leaving the Island, b) the Man in Tapout Gear from killing Keith Kizer, c) a season of TUF going by without homoerotic innuendos, and d) kicks to the mouth of a downed opponent.
Seth Bacitracin is guilty of d), and though he apologizes profusely to his opponent, he's immediately disqualified, giving Hawaii Five-O the win.
"Dude," says Hurley.
"Shut up, you fat f*ck!" screams the injured Rich Atonofneato, and all sorts of chaos break loose. From the sidelines putters Ortiz, shaking his fist from the seat of a motorized mobility scooter you sometimes see old and/or overweight people toodling around in. Cypress Hill and the Amish Kid shake RC Cola until he sprays carbonated soda from his head. Offshore, Desmond shouts "Ahoy, brothers!" from his passing yacht, while in a cave Joe Feminine plays backgammon with Bag of Hammers. It's at this point that the nefarious Dana Whitemore tells Liddell that his bout with Ortiz is off.
A mask of rage overtakes the Mohawked One's face and he begins to tremble, a volcano of hate about to blow its top, spewing ash and grounding flights all over Europe. He reaches into his pocket and produces a phone. Stares at it at if its his sworn enemy.
"Why are you mad at your phone?" asks Dana Whitemore.
Liddell suddenly appears confused. "A phone? I thought this was a hotel for tiny people who liked to talk to me."
Cut to a black screen with "TUF" in white letters, suspended there ominously.