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Ronda Rousey, Liz Carmouche Since I find women fighting incredibly arousing, I bought UFC 157 Saturday night to watch the first women’s match in the promotion’s history. It was a decent fight, ending with Rousey submitting Carmouche with an arm bar in the first round, but on another level, it was incredibly disappointing.

Not one boob popped out, there was no hair pulling, and at no time did they land on top of each other, hearts pounding and start making out.

Call me sexist, but when I watch women fight, I want there to be veiled overtones of lesbian attraction, and I demand at least one article of clothing be ripped off every 19 seconds. I had high hopes for that in this fight because Carmouche is openly gay and Rousey is hot as hell.

Unfortunately, it just wasn’t to be.

The new UFC is too proud to throw hot chicks in the ring for my masturbationary amusement, and a part of me will always miss the old days when their motto was “there are no rules.” The old league operated without the concept of shame, and I doubt promoters would have had a problem with stripper fights.

I will always fondly remember the fight in UFC 4 where Joe Son, the guy who played Random Task in the first Austin Powers movie, fought Keith Hackney and was submitted after taking about a dozen punches straight to the nuts.

Seems like poetic justice now that Joe has been convicted for participating in a violent rape and torture session that got him sentenced to prison for the rest of his life.

Chick fights and dick punches aside, I think the only reason I watch the UFC is because it’s the closest thing to what I really want, actual gladiatorial combat. I want the goddamned Roman Coliseum. I want matches between Christians and lions and Samnites vs. Retiarii. I want to watch people battle to the death for my amusement, and since we don’t have an emperor, the public should be able to decide who survives.

At the end of the fight you will get to text “live” or “die” to a toll-free number and that will determine if wounded fighters are quickly dispatched or live to fight another day. It will be like playing God from the safety and comfort of your own little heaven

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