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12.21.2020 | 8:19 PM ET
This Thread Is a Thread where you can post what ever you want from **** posting to crazy stuff . Any topic MMA related to what ever you want to talk. Try and not be toxic arsehole. And one rule No Politic allowed because that what made people ****s
Let me Start, I find it insane it like 4 days to Chrismas , Im suprise it so close to the end of the Year, Fells like Junes.Anyone have anything cool plan for Chrissy, I’m probley just gonna mess around at the gym
Let me Start, I find it insane it like 4 days to Chrismas , Im suprise it so close to the end of the Year, Fells like Junes.Anyone have anything cool plan for Chrissy, I’m probley just gonna mess around at the gym
* Edited at 12.21.2020, 8:52 PM ET *
"Quack quack quack"
Page 100
09.23.2021 | 8:43 PM ET
I made a pick 'em group for anyone who wants to join btw
Edit: Oh hey first post on the 100th page!
Edit: Oh hey first post on the 100th page!
* Edited at 09.23.2021, 8:44 PM ET *
"🌽⚽️"
-
- Baldric Eggling
09.23.2021 | 8:53 PM ET
@Xcon interesting. I don't have many Fighter-related stories, firsthand or otherwise. This is probably an opportune time to share one of the few I do have.
This is a long story so I'll just leave the TL:DR here: A friend of mine is a well-known photographer who works in the US, was hired to photograph Cynthia Cavillo who turned out to smell so bad that he could smell her through a field of lavender, caused a quasi-supernatural insect event and the photographs he took of her also stunk.
An acquaintance of mine is a credentialed photographer working out of the US, and is occasionally contracted to work on shoots for minor-and-up celebrities. We'll call him Larold, and he's an even bigger fan of MMA than myself. He was chuffed in Mid-2020 when he learned he'd been hired by Cynthia Cavillo to produce images for her instagram account, and did. I can't say exactly when and where this took place due to a need to preserve privacy, but I can say it happened in a field somewhere around Blanco, Texas, towards dusk.
Initially everything was fairly Pedestrian. He'd Almost finished setting up his various apparatus when Cynthia's car pulled up by the roadside, about 40-50 feet away as he remembers it. She Stepped out and scanned around, her hand over her brow like a visor, and spotted him. He waved her on, and she had only just begun to walk towards when he first became aware of it:
She was given to schtangk.
To....to Schtangk!? Said I, not yet fully grasping the etymological intent of the term, delivered to me as it was in his rich creole--a bricolage of inflections loaned from places of the Deep South and Mid-west, but not being particular to any of them.
Yessir. Powerful Schtangk.
Larold is not prone to loquacity, and it did take some coaching and pressing on my behalf to extract a description of what this particular odour--for that is what 'Schtangk' referenced--was like in such a way as to satisfy my curiosity. His Testimony is as follows:
"When we was boys, found an ol' homestead 'bandoned in the woods. Weren't much to look at, weren't much to find. Jus' a stack o' grime and ghosts. Bunch a broken down furniture and ol' liquor bottles, mos'ley. Friend o'mine, mason, he gets to ruttin' about in this ol' busted to bits pantry, fishes out a can o' crab. Still had the label. Dated 55'.
Go on, I said.
Well now mason gits to thinking he''l open her up, jus t'see. Takes out a pen knife, stabs down onnit. And as he did it a fierce gust o' juice spurts right on up all over his lip n 'eye. Worst schtangk I ever knowed--least, t'were. He went stone still for a moment then he blew his gritz right all over his boots. Ran outta there screamin' n' hollerin' like a snared daddy jackrabbit'.
I see, I said.
But that don't hardly do it. That don't hardly do it all. Now, down in the bayous there be a kind o' pool. Locals down that way yonder call it a 'Turd swamp'. Least the older men do, younguns call em' 'Dookie Ponds. Now these pools don't hold not cats or craws, see.They aint' holdin' no life t'all. Just the mud, sof'ly broiling schtangk and fairy fire like the devil hisself's own pot O' Gumbo. Schtangk'd peel the finish right offa Cadillac.
He continued:
Now let's say you rounded up the contents of a few pounds or so that 55' crab, and hauled an ol safe outta one o' them turd swamps.Then you took a couple o' used adult diapers--hard used that is, and made yoseself a big ol' sandwhich outta it all, and locked in that there safe. And then you went n' took that safe, and you sat it on a shore somewhere on the east coast, high-summer. And then you went n' lit a little fire 'neath it, let it run out. Well now, when you came back and opened the door o' that safe, n' maybe a day r' two, you'd be gittin' close to a schtangk bout that woman's.
Engrossed as I was by his telling of advents, It only occurred to me in retrospect as he recanted this last passage that he had removed his wide-brimmed hat, placed it over his heart, and had spat energetically to one side. His voice, usually rather gruff, had become thinner and his eyes watery--whether as a consequence of some psychosomatic response at reliving the memory or otherwise, I cannot say.
But that weren't all of it. Near as I could tell, and a'cause it seemed like a good reckoning, she'd drawn things outta the earth by the power o' that schtangk.
What do you mean...things? I asked, by now thoroughly intrigued and having come to grips with his peculiar patois.
Well now, she's moseyin on over--bearing down on me, that's t'say, and the closer she gets, the more that schtangk starts to feel like gravity. I can rightly feel mahself gittin forced to a knee. And I look about her, and she's closer now, p'haps 15 feet away.Close enough to see her 'stache.
But you mean she was just getting very close--you mean that as an expression, like when one can 'see the whites of their eyes'? I interjected.
Nossir. I mean I could. See. Her. Stache'.
Jesus christ on the cross, I uttered. He went on:
Did some work for ol' Don Fry back in 2003. Not a doubt in mah mind that woman's stache'd make that man's look like hairs on a peach. Bristliern' a hog's paw and coulda scoured the black offa a scalded skillet. Stache like that'd make ol' Dons **** shrink right up 'isside his belly. Held drops o sweat fatter'n jelly glass shakin on a cathouse chandelier.
And then I lookdown t' the ground, and there's a river of ticks crawlin' across my boot, and the ground worms had come up too. I do misself a little honkey tonk, shake em' off. I look back up, and there she is, big as hell isself, trailin'the mightiest blow of flies I ever sawed. Yellows, cranes, hosses. And not flies only but the sqeeters and kissin' bugs, too. They's pourin' out the bushes and the mud cracks and every goddamn where,n' they knew where they's home was sho' as the rivers know there's be the sea. And that home were her.
I could not help but imagine him stood there, lurched-over by mountains pooling the quiet dark of the encroaching Texas twilight, perhaps a star or two pricking through the dirty violet where a pale hunk of Gibbus moon hung half imploded like a hatched black widow's sac. Stoic, but wilting slowly as a green branch on a bed of coals. Had she worn a rotting gown of cabbage-moth wings pin-stitched in spider's silk, a rough crown of beetle shards and bat bones snagged in the oily hair falling over her eyes, this terrible Goddess of Miasmas? This creature whose hell-hym of stench had crooned from the rends and crevicature of the earth the blood-biting and boneless, the winged and toothed, and all the putrid, chitinous and vile life of the plain and prairie?
'What did you do"!? I asked incredulously. By now a tiny heart had begun pounding under my collar.
'Well now, I hadda think fast. It came to me that 'bout mile or two uproad, there be a lavender farm. Plenty of em' in Blanco. So I put my hand up as I would a stroppy steer, said it'd be best if wetook the show on the road down the way and catch the last light. I walked on 'head o' er and told her to drive behind me. She obliged. Bugs didn't let em up. They crawlin' all over that vehicle as though they was honeybees swarming an old queen's hive.
Tweren't neerlah so bad takin em' shots in that lavender field, and it verily did mask the stangk somewhat, though it tweren't dandy niether. Schtankg was still strong as hell though I shot her from a good fitty feet away, for 'per-spec-tive', if you catch my meanin'. 'T'was like wipin yo' grandma's ass with a bag of potpourri. Now I'm old school. I still shoot the old way, with cell. No word o' lie, when I darkroomed those pictures and finished up, they bore the ghost of that schtangk them very selves.
Although I wasn't present and cannot guarantee the veracity of this story, I can nonetheless confirm I have no reason to doubt its Authenticity, the teller of it being well known to me. I am sorry if this offends some people, I have simply done my best to report the facts as they came to me.
This is a long story so I'll just leave the TL:DR here: A friend of mine is a well-known photographer who works in the US, was hired to photograph Cynthia Cavillo who turned out to smell so bad that he could smell her through a field of lavender, caused a quasi-supernatural insect event and the photographs he took of her also stunk.
An acquaintance of mine is a credentialed photographer working out of the US, and is occasionally contracted to work on shoots for minor-and-up celebrities. We'll call him Larold, and he's an even bigger fan of MMA than myself. He was chuffed in Mid-2020 when he learned he'd been hired by Cynthia Cavillo to produce images for her instagram account, and did. I can't say exactly when and where this took place due to a need to preserve privacy, but I can say it happened in a field somewhere around Blanco, Texas, towards dusk.
Initially everything was fairly Pedestrian. He'd Almost finished setting up his various apparatus when Cynthia's car pulled up by the roadside, about 40-50 feet away as he remembers it. She Stepped out and scanned around, her hand over her brow like a visor, and spotted him. He waved her on, and she had only just begun to walk towards when he first became aware of it:
She was given to schtangk.
To....to Schtangk!? Said I, not yet fully grasping the etymological intent of the term, delivered to me as it was in his rich creole--a bricolage of inflections loaned from places of the Deep South and Mid-west, but not being particular to any of them.
Yessir. Powerful Schtangk.
Larold is not prone to loquacity, and it did take some coaching and pressing on my behalf to extract a description of what this particular odour--for that is what 'Schtangk' referenced--was like in such a way as to satisfy my curiosity. His Testimony is as follows:
"When we was boys, found an ol' homestead 'bandoned in the woods. Weren't much to look at, weren't much to find. Jus' a stack o' grime and ghosts. Bunch a broken down furniture and ol' liquor bottles, mos'ley. Friend o'mine, mason, he gets to ruttin' about in this ol' busted to bits pantry, fishes out a can o' crab. Still had the label. Dated 55'.
Go on, I said.
Well now mason gits to thinking he''l open her up, jus t'see. Takes out a pen knife, stabs down onnit. And as he did it a fierce gust o' juice spurts right on up all over his lip n 'eye. Worst schtangk I ever knowed--least, t'were. He went stone still for a moment then he blew his gritz right all over his boots. Ran outta there screamin' n' hollerin' like a snared daddy jackrabbit'.
I see, I said.
But that don't hardly do it. That don't hardly do it all. Now, down in the bayous there be a kind o' pool. Locals down that way yonder call it a 'Turd swamp'. Least the older men do, younguns call em' 'Dookie Ponds. Now these pools don't hold not cats or craws, see.They aint' holdin' no life t'all. Just the mud, sof'ly broiling schtangk and fairy fire like the devil hisself's own pot O' Gumbo. Schtangk'd peel the finish right offa Cadillac.
He continued:
Now let's say you rounded up the contents of a few pounds or so that 55' crab, and hauled an ol safe outta one o' them turd swamps.Then you took a couple o' used adult diapers--hard used that is, and made yoseself a big ol' sandwhich outta it all, and locked in that there safe. And then you went n' took that safe, and you sat it on a shore somewhere on the east coast, high-summer. And then you went n' lit a little fire 'neath it, let it run out. Well now, when you came back and opened the door o' that safe, n' maybe a day r' two, you'd be gittin' close to a schtangk bout that woman's.
Engrossed as I was by his telling of advents, It only occurred to me in retrospect as he recanted this last passage that he had removed his wide-brimmed hat, placed it over his heart, and had spat energetically to one side. His voice, usually rather gruff, had become thinner and his eyes watery--whether as a consequence of some psychosomatic response at reliving the memory or otherwise, I cannot say.
But that weren't all of it. Near as I could tell, and a'cause it seemed like a good reckoning, she'd drawn things outta the earth by the power o' that schtangk.
What do you mean...things? I asked, by now thoroughly intrigued and having come to grips with his peculiar patois.
Well now, she's moseyin on over--bearing down on me, that's t'say, and the closer she gets, the more that schtangk starts to feel like gravity. I can rightly feel mahself gittin forced to a knee. And I look about her, and she's closer now, p'haps 15 feet away.Close enough to see her 'stache.
But you mean she was just getting very close--you mean that as an expression, like when one can 'see the whites of their eyes'? I interjected.
Nossir. I mean I could. See. Her. Stache'.
Jesus christ on the cross, I uttered. He went on:
Did some work for ol' Don Fry back in 2003. Not a doubt in mah mind that woman's stache'd make that man's look like hairs on a peach. Bristliern' a hog's paw and coulda scoured the black offa a scalded skillet. Stache like that'd make ol' Dons **** shrink right up 'isside his belly. Held drops o sweat fatter'n jelly glass shakin on a cathouse chandelier.
And then I lookdown t' the ground, and there's a river of ticks crawlin' across my boot, and the ground worms had come up too. I do misself a little honkey tonk, shake em' off. I look back up, and there she is, big as hell isself, trailin'the mightiest blow of flies I ever sawed. Yellows, cranes, hosses. And not flies only but the sqeeters and kissin' bugs, too. They's pourin' out the bushes and the mud cracks and every goddamn where,n' they knew where they's home was sho' as the rivers know there's be the sea. And that home were her.
I could not help but imagine him stood there, lurched-over by mountains pooling the quiet dark of the encroaching Texas twilight, perhaps a star or two pricking through the dirty violet where a pale hunk of Gibbus moon hung half imploded like a hatched black widow's sac. Stoic, but wilting slowly as a green branch on a bed of coals. Had she worn a rotting gown of cabbage-moth wings pin-stitched in spider's silk, a rough crown of beetle shards and bat bones snagged in the oily hair falling over her eyes, this terrible Goddess of Miasmas? This creature whose hell-hym of stench had crooned from the rends and crevicature of the earth the blood-biting and boneless, the winged and toothed, and all the putrid, chitinous and vile life of the plain and prairie?
'What did you do"!? I asked incredulously. By now a tiny heart had begun pounding under my collar.
'Well now, I hadda think fast. It came to me that 'bout mile or two uproad, there be a lavender farm. Plenty of em' in Blanco. So I put my hand up as I would a stroppy steer, said it'd be best if wetook the show on the road down the way and catch the last light. I walked on 'head o' er and told her to drive behind me. She obliged. Bugs didn't let em up. They crawlin' all over that vehicle as though they was honeybees swarming an old queen's hive.
Tweren't neerlah so bad takin em' shots in that lavender field, and it verily did mask the stangk somewhat, though it tweren't dandy niether. Schtankg was still strong as hell though I shot her from a good fitty feet away, for 'per-spec-tive', if you catch my meanin'. 'T'was like wipin yo' grandma's ass with a bag of potpourri. Now I'm old school. I still shoot the old way, with cell. No word o' lie, when I darkroomed those pictures and finished up, they bore the ghost of that schtangk them very selves.
Although I wasn't present and cannot guarantee the veracity of this story, I can nonetheless confirm I have no reason to doubt its Authenticity, the teller of it being well known to me. I am sorry if this offends some people, I have simply done my best to report the facts as they came to me.
09.23.2021 | 9:55 PM ET
You know I tried to Google schtangk haha
Page 100!
Page 100!
"Dont take life too serious, you will never make it out alive."
09.23.2021 | 10:34 PM ET
I think everyone has experiences with UFC fighters eventually if your into this type of stuff. It really is a small world. Sat there and had a 20 minute conversation with Reed Harris in Toronto. We Talked how his son was in the Marines and was in Afghanistan and he was worried about him. Ran into Josh Neer and Jeremy Stephens at a club in Philly. Even Bumped into some at a gym before. Friend taps me on the shoulder and says "your a good wrestler, why dont you try him out, he needs a partner" I recognize him immediately and decide not to test fate that evening. Talked to Dominick Cruz a few times. Very friendly and smart person.
Most people here have a story.
Then local fighters are a dime a dozen
Except the 15 year old kid on Tapology who is depressed right now he doesnt have any experiences. They be real silent :)
"Dont take life too serious, you will never make it out alive."
09.23.2021 | 11:31 PM ET
Yep known a few helped one train, then watched poor guy get kod in 30secs.
"“I took no damage,” Hill said. “Most of the fall was me falling down"
09.24.2021 | 12:12 AM ET
anybody watching this UFC hall of fame ceremony? Shoutout Kevin Randleman and Marc Ratner and GSP soon
edit: and Jon Jones vs Gus their fight got put into the Hall of Fame fight wing, pretty awesome
edit: and Jon Jones vs Gus their fight got put into the Hall of Fame fight wing, pretty awesome
* Edited at 09.24.2021, 12:13 AM ET *
"Pound for Pound! Headshot, dead!"
09.24.2021 | 9:32 AM ET
I do think death should expedite you into the hall of Fame if you are worthy. I wanted Kevin Randleman for years and mentioned it in the forums a few times. Really would like Evan Tanner in the Pioneer section to be in next years Hall of Fame
"Dont take life too serious, you will never make it out alive."
09.24.2021 | 12:40 PM ET
Kevin and Evan are pioneers both champs no doubt should be hof they were in some crazy big and controversial fights!
Dana and his politics are weird he supposedly hates gsp and he is one of the most unwanted glory dogs.
Kinda like rock hall of fame wrongest guys usually win "are inducted" and its like what they're ******* rappers?
Dana and his politics are weird he supposedly hates gsp and he is one of the most unwanted glory dogs.
Kinda like rock hall of fame wrongest guys usually win "are inducted" and its like what they're ******* rappers?
"“I took no damage,” Hill said. “Most of the fall was me falling down"
09.24.2021 | 1:31 PM ET
Shut the **** up and make some picks already @Baldric
"For no particular reason beat up everyone"
-
- Uncle Uyghur
09.24.2021 | 2:41 PM ET
@BaldricEggling
Truly an incredible story whether its true or not. The part about the bugs had me in tears. I should mention im at work and people are looking at me funny now.
Truly an incredible story whether its true or not. The part about the bugs had me in tears. I should mention im at work and people are looking at me funny now.
This user is suspended from posting until 7 years, 5 months, 2 weeks, 2 days, 12 hours, and 19 minutes from now.
09.24.2021 | 4:48 PM ET
I'm honestly shocked about Jon Jones crimes. Jones is a massive D-bag and him doing crimes is no surprise. But his crime record has never had an evil crime on it. His worst crime was his hit and run. I think it more stupid because it not like he was planing to crash his car, And how was he suppose to know she was pregnant? He should of help her anyway. For no other reason then she a human being.
Domestic Violence is for ************* human being. I hate any man who hits a women and nothing piss me off more then that. Jon crimes were never near Domestic Violence
Domestic Violence is for ************* human being. I hate any man who hits a women and nothing piss me off more then that. Jon crimes were never near Domestic Violence
"Quack quack quack"
09.24.2021 | 4:55 PM ET
Dude, you drive a car drunk you are a POS, you crash into someone, you're scum, you run from the scene? You're a ******* criminal. Jon Jones is a *************.
"For no particular reason beat up everyone"
09.24.2021 | 5:09 PM ET
Domestic violence I asked on the other forum , basically sounds like he been hitting his wife?
-
- Baldric Eggling
09.24.2021 | 5:28 PM ET
You know, I'm pretty sure Jones is a sociopath at this point. Like he talks a big game about being a Christian and fronts these little charity ventures etc but when you look at how he actually behaves and what he does, it's pretty clear he doesn't believe in anything or care about anyone than himself. Anything he does that is good is just for PR purposes.
09.24.2021 | 6:04 PM ET
Shocker. People who fight in cages for money are ass holes!!!
"Sometimes maybe good, sometimes maybe ****! "
09.24.2021 | 6:11 PM ET
I'm not at all surprised about Jon Jones, but am hoping this will be the final nail in his coffin, so tired of watching this self destructive narcissist garner fights and headlines.
Also, to his victim(s), you are not forgotten, we send you our support. Combat sports fans are the Best, and we Protect our loved ones. Jones is representative of no one and nothing.
Also, to his victim(s), you are not forgotten, we send you our support. Combat sports fans are the Best, and we Protect our loved ones. Jones is representative of no one and nothing.
"He who hesitates meditates in a horizontal position""
09.24.2021 | 6:26 PM ET
Pretty disgusting but not at all surprising Jones always struck me as the woman beater.
Probably why he was always fishing for hookers and hobos at all hours they usually dont file police reports.
Probably why he was always fishing for hookers and hobos at all hours they usually dont file police reports.
"“I took no damage,” Hill said. “Most of the fall was me falling down"
09.24.2021 | 7:27 PM ET
Big Bad Olga
By the way Tosh, the crazy Russian bare knuckle fighting chick in your profile pic is boxing next weekend
https://www.tapology.com/fightcenter/bouts/601302-racz-vs-budera-fabiana-bytyqi-vs-olga-the-silk-princess-gurova
"Sometimes maybe good, sometimes maybe ****! "
09.24.2021 | 10:17 PM ET
I just saw that Jon Jones got arrested again. What a Buffon.
"If you follow me, I will follow you"
09.25.2021 | 1:40 PM ET
@Mikey got a question. Do you actually follow all the champs in boxing across every belt and weight class? That has to be mind numbing the amount of champs in boxing
"Dont take life too serious, you will never make it out alive."