If you liked yesterday's ode to Turkish oil wrestling -- especially if you thought maybe what it was lacking was a bit more blood and guts -- you'll love Mark Simpson's exposé of Ultimate Fighting Championship, from the new issue of Out.
Here's a tease of what Mark saw in Montreal:
UFC, by far the most successful purveyor of MMA fights for the cable TV voyeur, looks remarkably like gay porn for straight men: ultimate fuck-fighting.
In the octagonal UFC cage set up over the Bell Centre ice hockey rink -- octagonal perhaps because it better affords multiple angles than a square boxing ring -- Mac Danzig is still on his back; his sweaty, pumped white torso is flushed with the auburn heat that auburn skin produces when it is aroused. His panting, fetching head has been pushed up against the cage by redhead Marc Bocek’s energetic pounding, as if the cage were in fact a headboard. Bocek isn’t making love, however, or at least not the vanilla kind. He’s hammering the living daylights out of Danzig with his gloves, stoking the crowd into ever-higher waves of frenzy.
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