Okay, Spilled Bag of Fights… here we go… Aesop Rock on the iTunes, coffee, vanilla cream cookie. Wait. Looks like we could use a refill on the coffee – hold on… Okay. Spilled Bag of Fights. Here we go… I’m writing this fucking thing on Notepad. I’m in exile, you see. No, not exile… I’m a refugee. Did I spell that right? I dunno. Fucking Notepad doesn’t have spell-check. I should just write this in e-mail…
Okay, here we are in e-mail. So, anyway, I’ve very specifically avoided writing much about me, the guy behind the bag, and try to keep it pretty focused on MMA. And since this is ostensibly an MMA wrap-up column, what better time or platform to ramble on about things that have nothing to do with MMA? Such as the fact that my room in my apartment in LA is uninhabitable due to a combination of a leaking roof and a week-and-a-half of straight rain. So, I’m in Las Vegas visiting Moms and unsure what to do next since the landlord seems to think I should pay the same amount of rent for an uninhabitable apartment as one that fulfills one of the basic requirements of a shelter – i.e.: fucking SHELTER! My contention is that if I wanted a leaky, moldy shelter, I could probably fashion one from some plastic and a cardboard box behind the auto parts store. Sure, I’d miss some of my favorite TV shows and MMA but no one would expect rent for it. So, as I wait in Vegas to find out what the response is to my “How about I don’t pay for what I’m not getting?” offer, I sit down nonetheless and write a Spilled Bag of Fights, for you, loyal readers. For you. Now, when I call the column “Phoning It In”, it’s partially because I don’t have much to write about but also a clever play on words since I asked you guys on Twitter what to write about and I put your suggestions and my responses at the end of the column… like you were phoning in… heh?! See what I did there?? eh? Continue reading »
