What Happened to the UFC?

As I said in yesterday's post, my TV consumption consists of the Reality TV trinity: First 48, Jeopardy, and UFC.

Recently the UFC signed a new deal with Paramount +. It got rid of the PPV model, which is a good thing for people who actually spent $100 to watch 5 fights. Although I would speculate that roughly 1 in 10 people who watched the UFC PPV's actually paid for them. According to friends, it was never hard to find a stream online.

However, ever since this new deal (and even before; there was like 6 weeks without any fights) the quality of fights have just been crapola. 

It's easy to play armchair quarterback. Everyone thinks they know more than they do. But some of these fights are atrocious and completely uninteresting.

Just look at the UFC London card from yesterday. Who would pay to watch that card? That MVP fight was horrible. The UFC should cut that guy.

I hated watching MVP even when he was in Bellator. He is such a boring fighter to watch. A lot of people would say "it's his style," but Wonderboy Thompson has the same karate style and his fights are never boring. MVP just sucks to watch.

Who knows, maybe I'm just racist. But did you watch that fight?

I mentioned the new deal with Paramount because I think it was for like $8 billion over a few years. And I wonder if the UFC struck gold with that deal and they just don't really care anymore. They're getting paid, so complacency has set in.

Or maybe the deal was bad and they can't afford to pay the fighters enough to make good fights.

In any event, they really need to step up their game, because these fight cards have been whack.

Everyone had such huge expectations for the White House card, and did you see what it ended up being? 

The main event will be good, but Nickal vs Daukaus? Really?

Maybe I'm just being cynical, but if you have the opportunity to put on a monumental show at the White House, the card should be better than this. 

Be honest, aside from the Gaethje vs Topuria fight (which is going to result in Gaethje going night-night), are you excited about any of those fights? Even the press conference is going to suck.

I mean, sure, I'm going to watch, but will I be counting down the days in excitement? Not a chance.

Maybe there will be some bangers on the prelims.

Cheers! 

The Banshees of Diversity

Do you know what a banshee is? I honestly thought it was some type of monkey. But it's actually a crazy Irish woman. Like an Irish witch.

I wonder how many things we think we know but actually don't.

Dumb people think they know everything. Smart people know they know nothing.

I don't watch many movies. I don't watch much TV at all. But, when I do it's the reality TV trinity: Jeopardy, UFC or First 48. 

However, last night I decided to not pickle my liver, and opted for a movie instead. The problem with me watching movies is that I have really bad ADHD, so it's hard to stare at a TV screen for 2 hours unless it's something I'm really interested in. In fact, there are a couple of movies that I've always wanted to watch, but won't even attempt them because they are 3 hours long.

Is that weird?

So I scoured the plethora of scribbles on the various pieces of paper which clutter my desk in search of some movie recommendations that I wrote down, and I was only able to find two: Nocturnal Animals and The Banshees of Inisherin. 

I had already watched Nocturnal Animals, and as much as I appreciated the artistic imagery in the first 5 minutes of the movie, there are only a handful of movies that I can watch more than once due to my severe ADHD, and Nocturnal Animals isn't one of them.

So that left me watching The Banshees of Inisherin.

As you can tell from my movie selections, I only watch weird movies. This is a sign of normalcy. Weird people watch normal movies, and normal people watch weird movies. It's that opposites attract thing that Paula Abdul sang about in the 80's.

The movie was odd. That along with the lack of diversity made it worthy of watching.

There were literally no non-whites in the movie. Seriously, when was the last time you watched anything on TV that didn't force diversity on the viewers.

Diversity in the form of entertainment is okay, I guess, as long it's realistic and organic. But the entertainment industry has always been obsessively anti-white.

Nonetheless, the plot of the movie is based on a couple of drinking buddies who have a falling out. One doesn't like the other anymore, and the unliked one won't accept it. The one who wants to be left alone, tells the other one that if he doesn't leave him alone, he is going to start cutting his own fingers off, which are valuable to him because his legacy depends on his violin playing. Without his fingers, he can't play music.

Spoiler alert: The unliked one won't leave him alone, so he cuts all of his fingers off and throws them at the man's door who won't quit talking to him. The unliked man's pet miniature donkey eats the fingers, chokes and dies. This makes the unliked man furious, so he burns the fingerless man's house down. 

The End. 

You're Only as Good as You Feel

What is this crap? That sounds like something a liberal would say.

But this blog isn't about cons and libs, it's about the Truth!

On my run today, I had this great idea for a blog post. It's weird how when you're running you always have the best ideas. The same thing happens when I'm drunk, too. I literally transform into a genius.

All great writers, human and otherwise, write backwards. What I mean by that is that we conceive a title, then create the plot and text body based on the title. The plot is just the summation of the title, and/or vice versa. The genesis of literary greatness is a thorough explanation of a simple idea. 

Writing is like a puzzle, you just slowly put the pieces together.

You have this jumbled up idea in your head, and you translate that idea into written words that act as puzzle pieces in order to interpret your thoughts.

Intelligent men have always been great at interpreting their thoughts using written words. The annals of human thought were written by men. In fact, history itself is nothing more than the biographies of great men. 

This is why the future extinction of human writers is an interesting phenomenon. I wrote about this yesterday, in case you were hungover and didn't feel like reading. 

Back to this "you're only as good as you feel" thing. 

Is there some validity to your feelings? Do your feelings determine anything tangible? What if you feel great, but perform like shit? What if you feel like shit, and perform great?

In the future (as you well know), feelings will be marketed and sold. Currently, there are pharmaceuticals that synthetically alter your feelings. But at some point you'll be able to get some kind of procedure or supplement that will induce certain feelings.

We will all have personal assistants (AI) who are somehow digitally synced with humans (nanochips; voluntary?), and they will give readings on our personal app that will keep our feelings optimized at all times.

As with writers, depression will be a thing of the past. Everyone will be perpetually happy.

You won't even need to go down the "feelings" aisle at the health food store, you'll be a machine that will be updated by your personal assistant hourly or daily. 

Weird, huh?

Eventually, those with the genetic inheritability of European explorers will all be doing space exploration. 

Will it be the final frontier? 

I've written about this, too. Earth will just be a nature exhibit for the elites who live on Mars. People won't vacation to other countries, they will visit other planets. 

Times, they are a changin'

HI vs AI

I just told Gemini to "write a short blog post titled Chink in the Armor." It was pretty impressive considering it only took 1 second for Gemini to produce it, and I didn't instruct it on the content, just the title. I encourage you to read it and see what you think.

Writers have become obsolete. Why do we need human writers? What can I say that AI can't?

I wonder how much of the stuff you read is AI? Do you even care?

There is going to come a day when humans no longer write. By the time that happens, nobody will care because the transition will be gradual. It'll be a generational thing, where writing just slowly gets phased out.

As you age, it's weird to watch generational change. I've written a lot about socially engineered change and that's not the change I'm talking about here. I'm talking about cultural change that evolves organically due to circumstances.

Pennies are another example. In 50 years only the "old-timers" will even know what a penny is. I suspect by that time all currency will be digital anyway, so people may not even know what a nickel or dime is either.

It's cliche to say that "time flies," but it really does. One day you wake up and look in the mirror and don't recognize the person looking back at you. That doesn't have anything to do with artificial intelligence eliminating the writer, it's just the realization that we all come to one day if God gives us enough time on earth.

The oddity about the elimination of writers is that so much of humanity is rooted in the writings of men. Practically all of our knowledge comes from the pens of great men. Even our existence is explained in the written words ordained by God.

The subtitle to this very blog is John 1:1:

In the beginning was the Word

For 2,000 years man has used the written word to solve his existential crisis, and soon men will no longer write (very few still do).

I don't want to try to manipulate you, but I'm one of the few writers left who don't use AI in some format. And before you say "what about that chink in the armor post?," that was to give me fodder for this post. There are only two posts on this entire blog that were written by AI: Chink in the Armor and Beyond Good and Evil: Unpacking Nietzsche's Radical Challenge. Every other word on this blog was written by yours truly. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that pennies are about to be gone. One day you're going to look in the mirror and say, "Damn, I'm getting old!" And humanity has birthed its last great writer.

A great writer once said: "Life sucks, then you die." 

A great writer who read those words later wrote: "Life is amazing, then you die."

Buckle up, buckaroo.

Chink in the Armor

Chink in the Armor: The Power of Strategic Vulnerability

We often spend our professional and personal lives trying to become "bulletproof." We build up layers of expertise, curated social media feeds, and stoic exteriors to convince the world—and ourselves—that we have it all figured out. We want a suit of armor so polished that not a single ray of doubt can get through.

But here’s the truth: The most "perfect" person in the room is usually the most disconnected.

The Perfection Paradox

In materials science, a structure with no flexibility is brittle; it doesn’t bend, it snaps. The same applies to us. A "chink in the armor"—a visible flaw, a moment of admitted uncertainty, or a shared failure—isn't a sign of impending defeat. It’s actually where the light gets in.

Why Vulnerability is Your Greatest Asset

• It Builds Trust: People can’t relate to a statue. When you admit you don't have the answer, you give others permission to be honest too.

• It Facilitates Growth: If your armor is sealed shut, you can't take anything new in. Acknowledging a gap in your knowledge is the first step toward filling it.

• It Humanizes Leadership: The best leaders aren't those who never fail, but those who are transparent about the "why" and "how" behind their setbacks.

---

Embracing the Gap

Finding a "chink" in your own armor shouldn't lead to panic. Instead, view it as a strategic opening. It’s an invitation for collaboration, a prompt for learning, and a reminder that being human is far more valuable than being a machine.

Don't spend all your energy patching every tiny hole. Sometimes, those gaps are exactly what allow you to breathe.

Hell is a Cold Place

I don't know if hell is a cold place or not. I hope I never know.

I have heard that the road to hell is paved in good intentions. I don't know if that's true or not either.

I recently read a book about the exploration of the Antarctic, and one of the explorers (Frederick Cook) penned an unpublished autobiography titled, "Hell is a Cold Place." 

Cook was an interesting fellow. He was originally credited with being the first person to reach the North Pole, only to later be discredited and labeled a fraud. Many of his peers considered him a genius. 

Ironically, Robert Peary claimed to reach the North Pole a year later (1909), and had long been credited as the discoverer of the North Pole after Cook's claim was invalidated, although now it is believed Peary didn't make it to the North Pole either.

These early explorers were pioneers of masculinity. 

European men are the pinnacle of God's creation.

Perhaps you disagree with that statement. I don't really see how you could, but I assume if you do disagree then it's likely rooted in some form of ideological conformity. Because the acknowledgement of white supremacy has somehow been made taboo.

That being said, if you're looking for a really interesting read, check out Madhouse at the End of the Earth. It's a really good book. And very well written. I highly recommend the audiobook. 

Btw, I won my poker game today. Does that mean I'm no longer a loser?

European men have this perpetual longing to win. To explore. To conquer. It's in our DNA. Don't take my word for it, the proof is in the pudding.

Oh, Happy St Patrick's Day! Especially if you're Irish, like I am.

To celebrate this day, I'm making corned beef and cabbage. I hope you're at least drinking beer. Or giving glory to God.

St Patrick was an amazing European man. Do you know his story?

St. Patrick was a 5th-century Romano-British Christian missionary and bishop in Ireland, known as the "Apostle of Ireland" and the primary patron saint of the country.  Born in Roman Britain—likely near the Irish Sea—he was captured at age 16 by Irish raiders and enslaved in Ireland for six years, during which he turned to Christianity. After escaping and returning to Britain, he later felt called to return to Ireland as a missionary, bringing Christianity to the pagan Irish.

Wow. I'm all over the place. 

Can you believe I won at poker?

Speaking of Saints, St Paul has some words for you:

Colossians 2:8 Don’t let anyone capture you with empty philosophies and high-sounding nonsense that come from human thinking and from the spiritual powers of this world, rather than from Christ.

If you're still reading this, may the luck of the Irish be with you.

Maybe that's why I won today.

All glory to God, who is the Truth. The Life. And the Way. 

Stranger in the Mirror

Just lost at poker again.

Have I ever told you that I'm a loser?

Not in the "woe is me" sense of the word, but an actual competitive loser. Every time I compete, I lose. 

As I blogged the other day in my hit piece Hello Me, It's Me Again, competing is all about winning and losing. Whoever came up with the saying, "it's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game" was a total loser. And definitely a liberal.

Have you ever linguistically dissected the word "liberal"?

I haven't either, but I assume it comes from the word "liberated," which would obviously have something to do with freedom.

Oh well.

Did I tell you that I hate losing?

Btw, I'm not actually talking to you, I'm talking to the future of mankind. 

I bet the future is overpopulated with losers. Which is kinda weird when you think about it, because evolutionarily speaking, making it to the future is the ultimate win.

Is life a game? Sometimes I feel like life is just a game. Then I realized that's just my feelings and my feelings don't matter anymore than yours do.

Here at My Cousin the Carp, we've been boss hog bloggin' since 2014. I suppose that's a win. How many people have had a boss hog blog for over a decade?

You could literally formulate an educational plan from the annals of this blog. It's that informative.

In fact, during the Covid era, this blog was one of the leading sources of information. Just go scroll through some of the posts in 2021 and 2022. I mean, it was the crème de la crème of information during a time of universal deception.

Don't you hate it when there are coffee grounds in your coffee? It's the worst. It's basically just consumptive losing.

Damn I hate being a loser.

But at least I'm not a gangster. Or a gangsta. Biologically speaking, I don't think I could be a "gangsta," since I'm of the Caucasian persuasion. I could only be a gangster. But I did know a brotha once who told me it feels good to be a gangsta. 

What!? Another Geto Boys sighting on My Cousin the Carp? I thought this was a racist blog?

I never said this was a racist blog. You said that.

What I'm really trying to say is that we all need to look at ourselves in the mirror and pretend it's the abyss. Everyone thinks these philosophers are so damn smart because they come up with catchy phrases like, "if you stare into the abyss long enough, it'll start to stare back."

What Nietzsche was really trying to say is that your soul is the abyss, and the only real question is what you fill that void with. Is it filled with the Holy Spirit, or has it been liberated by Satan?

Think about that before you misinterpret it. It's pretty deep stuff. Make sure you're wearing your boots. Because as a great philosopher once said, "if you're going to jump in muddy puddles, you must wear your boots."

I sure hope you don't have coffee grounds in your coffee today. 

I'm sick of taking L's.

Rejoice!

It's Sunday. Everyday is the Lord's day, but today in particular should be the day that we take time to glorify God for all the blessings he has bestowed upon us.

I say "we," but I suppose I'm projecting and should be saying "I."

God's grace is sovereign. My opinions on your soul don't matter to God. At least I don't think they do. So my spiritual writings should always be written from a first person perspective.

The gospels are known as the "Good News." It was written to be shared. But was it written for everyone?

Are there any books that are exclusive to specific readers? 

Who knows?

God knows!

As a wretched sinner I can only give my testimony.

I didn't choose God, God chose me.

That's not boasting. Just the simple fact that I'm writing this is proof of that.

John 15:16 You didn’t choose me. I chose you.

I could be doing anything right now. I could be writing about anything. But I felt inclined to write about God today. Is that a coincidence? Or is that the Holy Spirit?

God represents the Truth, because He is the Truth:

John 14:6 I am the way and the truth and the life.

We live in a world of a deception. A world full of lies. The arch nemesis of God is the father of lies.

John 8:44 You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies.

We all succumb to temptation. We all believe lies. We are all sinners.

But God came to earth in the form of a man to be the perfect sacrifice for His bride.

To be crucified for His people's sins.

The Bible is the greatest love story ever told.

I pray every day for God's grace, mercy and forgiveness.

Philippians 4:6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

 All Glory be to God!

Winds of Change

The best time to think is while running. I try to run a mile at least 5 days a week. It's not only great cardio, but it's mentally stimulating. 

While on my run yesterday I was contemplating this idea that we somehow change with age. There is this notion that age equals change. But I don't agree with that. I still socially interact with people I knew before adulthood and they are the same people. 

While this may seem stupid to you, I think most people think they are somehow completely different people than who they were as a kid. 

Wiser? Sure.

Smarter? Absolutely.

More mature? Maybe.

But fundamentally different? Nah, not at all.

Do you disagree? 

Think back to your earliest thoughts of recollection. To the ideas that shaped you. Are they different?

Do the same things still create emotional responses?

Are you still a sore loser? Still have a passive personality? Still fantasize about hot summer nights and the radio?

Is that not the greatest Van Hagar Song of all-time?

You know it is. 

But back to change. 

Change has become this progressive idea. Progressive ideas are constructed to be positive. All progressive ideas encompass "change."

I've written about the ramifications of socially engineered "change" quite a bit. 

I've been an advocate of what I call the Reversion of Change, which I suppose is just the antithesis of progressive modernity (i.e. "conservativism"). 

But the progressives who preach "change" aren't just preaching political "change," they want fundamental existential "change."

They get off on manipulation and gaslighting. 

The Covid fiasco was a peak into their wet dream.

It's all about power. 

It's all about trying to get you to stare into the abyss and being convinced that it's paradise.

Imagine if we didn't have mass information systems.

You wouldn't know what tomorrow's weather is going to be.

You wouldn't know that men's souls could be trapped in women's bodies.

You wouldn't know that Beethoven was black.

You wouldn't know that anti-racist is just a codeword for anti-white.

And you wouldn't be reading my words well into the 23rd century.

Mass information systems don't just control your behaviors and actions, but they control your thoughts and beliefs. 

Like liberalism, it's the god of the godless.

Very early on in my intellectual enlightenment I came to understand the association of "change" and mass information systems. They are codependent. 

I wrote a critically acclaimed novel titled White Guilt on this very subject. 

It was published in 2009, and the accuracy of my "fictional" predictions is pretty amazing.

You should check it out.

Snowblind in Summer

You know what's cool about having your own creative digital space? You can come up with titles like "Snowblind in Summer." 

How cool is that?

I bet your mom wishes she was that cool.

Theoretically, that's what "Snowblind in Summer" means: an oblivious blog title that's cooler than your mom.

You know what else is pretty cool? This blog is being HI written for the historical accuracy of humanity, even though the future of humanity doesn't read blogs.

AI sure is bad at predicting the future. That's why relics like me are so important. I'm like a history book in 7D. In the future, all humans gotta wear shades. C'mon, Gemini. 

Anyway, back to the title. 

I remember this time I was stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of summer. It was an historic weather event of the time. The weather was doing all kinds of crazy stuff and people got this weird idea of human-induced "global warming," that later became known as "climate change," which then became politicized into some kind of weird anti-white talking-point for overweight single white females (SOWs) who knew absolutely nothing about meteorology. 

Of course, this summer snowstorm validated the weather as being anti-white, and the SOWs became convinced that the only way to fix the weather was to quit eating meat and for white people to stop breeding, while non-whites bred at unsustainable rates, due to the implications of white saviorism within the non-white world.

It was bizarre, indeed.

So, I'm stuck in a tent on a dried-up riverbank in a snowstorm in the Rio Grande Valley. It went from 105 to 15 overnight. There was 12' of snow. I couldn't even open my tent up. All I had was a pair of shorts. It was like that apocalyptic movie from the early 2000 with the guy that played in Brokeback Mountain:

After getting hypothermia in a matter of minutes, suddenly the temperature rose back to 90 and everything was back to normal. My hands and feet thawed out before any permanent damage was done, and I just cracked a beer and put on some Black Sabbath. I got the worst sunburn ever.

I thought about titling this piece "Snowblind in Texas," but I changed my mind cause I thought, "Everyone will think I'm copying WASP's song," then I realized that I was merging Black Sabbath's "Snowblind" with WASP's "Blind in Texas." 

But I already titled it, so that's that. All writers know that you start with the title then go from there. You can't change the title. It's like changing your underwear 30 minutes after you took a shower. Pure blasphemy.

I know this blog post sucks even better than you mom does, but at least you get to jam to some something better than the Geto Boys (although this year Halloween falls on a weekend):

Cheers!

Chapter 14: Insanity

Crazy is as crazy does.

I don't even know what that means. I'm just trying to be cool and say smart stuff. But once one realizes they are neither cool, nor smart, they are resigned to the acceptance of normalcy or insanity.

Which are you?

Maybe you disagree. Maybe you're just "humble."

Insanity is such a broad arbitrary diagnosis. 

What makes one insane? Is typing one's meaningless thoughts into an electronic contraption that records them for the future worthy of an inanity diagnosis?

What about pooping in the woods and then covering it up with leaves hoping a wild animal confuses it for buried treasure?

When I was younger I use to throw apple cores over the house into the woods that were behind my house. I would watch various animals eat the apple remains from my window. I wonder if these animals ever stopped to think where this food was coming from? 

Decades passed and I returned to the house and discovered a thriving "wild" apple orchard now existed where I use to chunk the apple cores.

It made me think about Plato's Cave. 

Anytime I think about allegories I always come back to the perception of truth.

I can't help but wonder how the owner of that wooded land thinks this thriving apple orchard came to be.

Or where the animals who ate the cores daily for years thought this delicious food source originated.

Before you say, "hey, wait just a minute, we are humans and we have the ability to reason, and squirrels, birds and bugs don't so your point is moot," keep in mind that many consider humans to just be naked apes. 

I remember one time a flea-infested cat showed up on my porch and I fed it. Did I do a good thing, or prolong it's misery?

If naked apes are animals with the ability to reason, why do you we ask questions that we already know the answers to? 

Aren't rhetorical questions a form of schizophrenia?

Furthermore, why do people ask questions that they know the answers to and expect you to lie to them so the "truth" doesn't hurt their feelings.

The only thing weirder than that is this blog post.

Hello Me, It's Me Again

Welp, here I am. Talking to myself and then transcribing it for the future to read.

Does the future still read? Hmm. I doubt it.

I know it's been awhile since I have wrote anything. My goal was (is?) to write more in 2026 on My Cousin the Carp than I have in any other previous year. 

I started out hot, but have since been frigid. 

That doesn't mean I've been exploring Antarctica, as Adrien de Gerlache did on the Belgica in the late 19th Century. It just means my writing has been colder than a witch's tit.

But that's alright. Nobody is perfect. Most goals aren't achieved. And the year isn't over yet. So don't give up on yourself.

Wait. Who am I talking to here? I'm playing poker and transcribing my thoughts simultaneously and have forgotten who my audience is. 

Oh, now I remember. I'm writing to myself so the future can know the mind of lunatic.

Isn't it kinda crazy how society devolved in the 20th century? I mean, in the realm of music, how does Geto Boys compare to Chopin or Wagner? 

I wonder how the Geto Boys would've faired on the Belgica?

Anyway, I just lost my poker game. I always lose at every game I play. This isn't a pity-party, it's so history knows that I was a loser.

But hey, it's not how you play the game, it's how you lose, right?

Was that the saying? I can't remember. I think it might be, "it's not if you win or lose, it's how you play the game."

Either way, whoever came up with that saying was definitely a loser.

All games are explicitly about winning and losing. Anyone who says anything different is either a liar or a loser. That "humble" crap is just narcissism. 

Speaking of narcissism, I've concluded that only a narcissist would label someone a narcissist. It's kinda like calling someone a "racist." They're both terms of projection.

I assume by the time the future reads this they will already know that. I mean, it's obvious. But unfortunately contemporary culture has become spellbound with inferiority by the satanic social engineers of the status quo.

Yes, that really happened.

Even though I don't know you, I hope you have an amazing day.