Many apologies to those of you who frequent the blog. I've been out of commission due to a head cold/allergies/something not enjoyable. I just wasn't in the mood to process. However, I did have an experience with which I would care to relate to you digitally. Brace yourself, here we go:

Last night, Rachel and I went to a UFC party. We knew some people who were throwing a little shindig and thought it would be a good time. Off we went. It was a testosterone laden time. Here's the thing, I wasn't impressed. I enjoy fighting. I think it's a great male bonding experience (my youth group is evidence of that), and those who are really skilled at it makes it very impressive. Boxing is the sweet science after all. The Ultimate Fighting Championship is something different.

At first, I was intrigued (in the events I've seen in the past) at the mix of boxing, jujitsu, wrestling and any other form of combatives that you can imagine. Then someone got beat into a bloody pulp. Another was about to have an arm broken in half and multiple guys were not breathing for quite some time. To me, that's not entertainment. It's a mild version of what happened in ancient Rome. The only thing we missing is swords, battle reenactments and deciding to have a fight to the death. It was kind of disturbing because on a couple of occasions you were able to see what a man's face looks like after he's been punched, elbowed or kneed repeatedly. It was not entertaining to me. I found myself turning from the television a couple of times. Bring boxing back! At least then when a man gets knocked down, someone can't jump on top of him and keep beating him.
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Now playing: The Decemberists - The Perfect Crime #2