"UFC America: More Ass and Less Class"
by Donald Jefferies
"Our Prideful Idiocracy: This country wasn’t exactly classy in 2015, when Donald Trump came down the escalator to announce his candidacy for president. Casual Fridays had already taken the culture by storm. People of Walmart was already a website. I think twerking was already popular, and Kim Kardashian’s huge ass was in the middle of everything.
They stopped teaching Civics in high school before I entered high school. So you know that was a long time ago. Civics taught students the rights and obligations of citizens in a society. Now, it wasn’t needed as much back in the 1940s and 1950s, when our civilization placed great importance on manners and politeness. What Ambrose Bierce defined as “the most acceptable form of hypocrisy.” Sure, you knew most people didn’t meant it when they said, “let me know if there’s anything I can do.” I mean, did anyone really ever let these people know that they could do something? It was a common courtesy. Our world used to be full of such common courtesies. School just reinforced what most parents taught their children. Say please and thank you. As Barney the purple dinosaur reminded my children’s generation- they’re the magic words. There’s a thin line between a common courtesy and an empty gesture. Empty or not, they elevated the overall discourse. Insincere pleasantries are still pleasant.
Now you might be saying, “Oh geez, is he going to be claiming how much better things were when he was young again? Brag about how no one had tattoos, the men were lean and the chicks were hot? Talk about how you could be a goof off like him, and still be paid a living wage?” Well, okay, maybe I am figuratively yelling to get off of my lawn. I resisted the idea of being old for a long time, but now I’m claiming every senior citizen discount I can. Just don’t call me elderly. We weren’t as civil as our parents’ generation. My parents never, ever said “fuck.” We did. Quite a bit. We didn’t respect them the way they had respected their parents. The hippies which came just before me were the first to question some of the “establishment.” Oddly, they never seemed to question our banking system. Or the medical industrial complex. Their ire was primarily directed at the Vietnam War. But no other war. Ever. They were at odds with conventional morality, which frowned on premarital sex and drug use.
The foundation for our present day Idiocracy was built on feminism. Most women entered the workplace, leaving most homes with latchkey kids. No fault divorce. The celebration of single mothers in pop culture. Easy access to abortion. “If it feels good, do it” was an updated version of “Do what thou wilt,” credited to the monstrous Aleister Crowley, but actually originating with Ben Franklin’s Hellfire Club. That was the downside to all the personal liberty we enjoyed in the 1970s and 1980s. I’ve talked about how I fought a battle to keep my shirttail out, back in a tucked in world. To say we’ve swung too far in the opposite direction is a kinder way of saying Americans have let themselves go over the past fifty years.; a Hall of Fame understatement. I never thought I’d see people out in public wearing pajamas. I sometimes can’t determine someone’s race or sex these days. Call me a hopeless bigot, but I think that matters. And yes, you can judge our culture’s collective book by its cover.
But more important than mere physical facades are the character of the people. A half century of diabolical conditioning has resulted in generations of soft males with decreased testosterone, and aggressive females with perpetual resting bitch faces. Not to mention an increasing number of confused “transgenders,” whose anger results in a shockingly high suicide rate. All of them- male, female, and they/them, are less polite than any previous edition of Americans. They’re far less likely to say “thank you.” Some struggle to simply say “hello” in response to a greeting. And crowds display a collective stupidity that goes beyond that. It’s routine for thousands of fans to chant “Bullshit!” at sporting events now. I thought it was bad when they would sometimes yell “You suck!” during games a few decades ago. A simple “boo” seemed much more civil. You’d think that the lack of testosterone would make physical violence less likely, but somehow a simple word, or a simple look, can trigger it now.
So it’s appropriate that Trumpenstein- the leader of the free world- scheduled an outdoor UFC extravaganza on the White House lawn. In our mixed up, muddled up, shook up civilization, that is the perfect celebration for the 250th anniversary of our independence. Now, I don’t expect Trumpenstein or the evil Democrats to talk meaningfully about the Founders, and the importance of human liberty. No one is going to quote from the Declaration of Independence, which is all but labeled Hate Speech at this point. No one is going to dwell on that whole angry people breaking away from tyrannical rulers thing. Even our fantastically dumbed down populace might make some kind of connection. The event was what you’d expect; enjoyed by what’s left of the MAGA crowd, deplored by much of America. It was entertaining to hear one of the fighters shout, “Michelle Obama is a man!” He was quickly repudiated by UFC president Dana White. No outlandish conspiracy theories need apply.
Trumpenstein also decided to paint the bottom of the Reflection Pool on the Mall a swimming pool blue. It’s a wonder he didn’t coat it with a garish gold, to match the new decor of the White House. Apparently, he must have used the lowest paid illegal visa painters, because the paint started immediately peeling. Well, at least Trumpenstein turned away from ruining what’s left of the Middle East for a moment, to address domestic issues. Sure, it wasn’t a rebuild of the infrastructure, or a revival of DOGE, but it made a portion of the populace briefly happy. Trumpenstein is the perfect president for the times, a real President Camacho for the Idiocracy. Like many of his countrymen/women/they/thems, he’s rude, inarticulate and unapologetic. He’s overweight and loves fast food. He doesn’t keep promises. He’s untrustworthy. He is America 2.0. As we stand on the brink of our 250th anniversary, there couldn’t be a starker contrast between the former reality TV star and the Founding Fathers.
I used to actually know people who possessed genuine class. Not the class of a caste system, which designates a person’s place in the hierarchy. This kind of class could once be found in trailer parks and inner cities. It wasn’t necessarily associated with one’s net worth. Do we have any leaders, let alone common riffraff, who have real class today? Can anyone act dignified? Every ambassador, every debutante, every One Percenter, seems only a few words away from unleashing a flurry of obscenities, if not launching a physical attack. The poor never took any shit. Now the hoi polloi have the same reluctance to talk things out. Like their immature leaders, they forego diplomacy in lieu of fists flying. Bombs dropping. As boxer turned philosopher Mike Tyson said, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.” You all know I generally like Candace Owens, but she announced that she was pregnant again recently, and explained that whenever she’s pregnant she feels like fighting. With her dainty dukes.
That’s an odd reaction to pregnancy, but all 57 genders love to talk about punching someone in the face. The “Woke” Left especially loves to fantasize about punching ”Nazis” in the face. Since pretty much anyone we don’t like is now de facto a “Nazi,” this leaves a lot of people very vulnerable. I wonder if “Nazis” can say that they love to punch people who call them Nazis in the face? Just imagine how many punches the Mark Levins and Ben Shapiros would have to absorb in such a scenario. We really haven’t progressed much since the days of “you wanna take this outside?” But an Idiocracy pretty much has to be violent. Kick someone in the balls, or watch someone get kicked in the balls. The UFC, in its pure brutality, is the perfect sport for the times. No lions or Christians needed. Just lots of blood. And the same kind of Drunk White Fans who cheer on all Black football and basketball teams. It’s exactly the same mob mentality that used to pack family lunches to watch the public hanging.
I have sometimes cited the 1841 book "Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds" by Charles Mackay. It had a huge impact on me when I read it during my misspent youth. I feel confident in saying that, in the 1980s very few other 20 somethings were reading this ancient book, that chronicled how gullible and unthinking the mass of humans have always been. It was instructive to know that vapid catchphrases would pop up frequently on the streets of 18th century London, long before some creative inner city resident came up with “right on” and “I heard that.” You don’t have to be Frankenstein’s monster for the crowd to turn against you with burning torches and pitchforks. Frank Capra’s brilliant "Meet John Doe", something I cite even more often, demonstrated what would likely happen if a true populist hero emerged on the scene. With just a dash of emotional propaganda, passionate fans would destroy him. Most people are followers. They are looking for guidance.
The angry mob is more frightening than a confederation of conspirators, holed away in a dark castle, plotting future misdeeds. Look at how easily people can be turned by idle school, neighborhood, or workplace gossip. They don’t need the Bilderbergers to manipulate them. Born troublemakers exist. People who enjoy causing misery to others. With all the misshapen and tattooed bodies in present-day ‘Murrica, they don’t have to look very far to find a nice target for ridicule. The problem is, though, when the majority are overweight, and few are even attempting to look presentable, let alone attractive, what poisonous barbs are used against them? If most of the crowd is fat and ugly, can you really call anyone fat or ugly? Maybe the few lookers get singled out? “Hey, Mr. 6 pack abs, kiss my fat tattooed ass!” “Hey, little miss 2 percent body fat, miss perfect hair- why don’t you eat another salad with no dressing?” Maybe the transgenders scoff at those who still have their original biological equipment.
So no, things were far from perfect when I was an obese young boy in a far more fit world. We all stepped on anthills. For the fun of it. Dogs got left outside. In a literal doghouse. The cuisine was less exciting. Pizza was for very rare occasions. I didn’t know, until I was a teenager, that there was any other Chinese food except Chow Mein. No Mexican. Italian was limited to spaghetti. Lots of roast beef and overcooked vegetables. But bacon grease made it delicious and I remember it fondly. I obviously liked the food well enough to become a pathfinding obese youngster. We had only three TV networks, but the programming was far better than what you find today, on the combined 200 channels or whatever. I was the only person I knew who was “awake.” The music was great. And the people were in much better physical condition. To be fair, they were also often high. Just look at any old group shot from beaches, up even into the 1980s. You’ll see that we really lost something aesthetically.
Sure, people were rude back then. But they looked better being rude. And they weren’t quite as rude. I don’t think people took as long to back out of a parking space when others were visibly waiting. I’ve seen posters on message boards laugh and brag about that. They enjoy making people wait. You have online personalities devoted to catching and shaming people who are too lazy to push their shopping carts to the designated area, blocking parking spaces. Most notably, I’ve heard idiots on talk radio justify not washing their hands after taking a shit. Seriously. I guess there were cretins who didn’t wash their hands after wiping their asses back then, too. Just not as many. And no one would have admitted it, let alone bragged about it. In many ways, our evil overlords have helped build a nation of sociopaths. Fat, unattractive sociopaths. Unquestioning sociopaths, ready to line up for the next booster shot. Vindictive sociopaths, anxious to prosecute those who aren’t as stupid and obedient as them.
The madness of modern Americans reaches its peak on Black Friday, when they’re willing to risk life and limb for 20% off an electronics item. There is not the slightest bit of civility in retail. People routinely trample each other for sales that aren’t even special. A few years ago, Popeye’s introduced a new fried chicken sandwich. There were lines out the door to get it. Believe it or not, they were being sold on Ebay. Now, I don’t think I’d want to meet someone who would buy a sandwich on Ebay. But their vote counts the same as mine does. I’m as far removed from a snob as can be, but a civilization requires some standards. Briefly brush your hair. Don’t wear pajamas in public. Pull your pants up. Kind of the same instructions you might give a toddler. If this keeps up, maybe ‘Murricans will regress and forget they’re potty trained. Why not? No one’s going to stop you from doing it in the street. Can Gen Zers tell time with an old fashioned clock? Do addition and subtraction by hand? Make change?
A while back, I came up with a slogan for America 2.0- Smaller Brains and Bigger Asses. Who can argue with the accuracy of that? Our president is a WWE Hall of Famer. We are all WWE now. Females of all ages are willing to really brawl, even more so than the average emasculated male. We have been influenced by the loud Black women, doing the neck movement thing. We’re all keeping it real. Too real. Few can spell decorum, and almost no one has any. We’re an ill mannered mess. An ill mannered mess that is easily angered, but never at the conspirators who are controlling their lives. Instead, they’re distracted by the neighbor’s rosebush. Witness how much property was destroyed after the Knicks won the NBA championship. We won! Nah, we never win. 80% have to lose in a rigged casino economy like ours. So light off fireworks. Hope that the next White House UFC match is extra bloody. Treat yourself to a new tattoo. And order something extra fattening from Uber Eats."
o
Tip of the hat to The Burning Platform for this material.
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