What if it was Hamilton instead? Or the New York Philharmonic or the Ballet or Opera? Would anybody care that it was being staged on the storied South Lawn of the White House under a gigantic claw-like edifice? Maybe the occasional aesthetic crank or scold but it would not be fodder for endless columns, tsk tsking, silly lawsuits all condemning the low brow nature of the event. Tacky. Sacrilegious. Gory.
The massive criticism is part sincere outrage over the abuse of decorum with a dash of class prejudice and Trump derangement syndrome. The UFC brand of Mixed Martial Arts, “Ultimate Fighting” is violent, bloody, sweaty and so low on the social spectrum as to allow Trump-hating critics to look down scornfully.
Yet, a significant portion of Americans really dig the UFC. It’s way too brutal to be considered legitimate, but that train left the station years ago with the coming of Trump 47. Now UFC is a multi-billion-dollar business with events staged in football stadiums and the Sphere in Las Vegas. So why not the South Lawn? After all, Sunday was Donald Trump ‘s 80th birthday, so his call. Not to mention it was also Flag Day and the U.S. Army ‘s birthday, plenty of reasons to stage a Mega-MAGAganza.
The scene was as spectacular as it was over the top. The Claw embracing the White House was a $60 million gift to the president who loves UFC. Melania our elegant First Lady sat ringside, apparently enjoying or at least graciously enduring the spectacle.
It started with problematic weather. Waiting for the national weather service to greenlight the live event, fighters strutted bare-chested around their “green room” in the Eisenhower Office building, like they were in junior high. If you’re going with a claw looming over the White House, you might as well go all the way.
Some of the toughest athletes on earth, said the commentator, “these guys aren’t going to be bothered by some bad weather.”
The weather held off, the crowd was treated to jet fighters flying over, and real life eagles, soldiers, Marines (great band), Airmen and sailors fly under the Golden Knights parachute team. Tacky, garish spectacle but fun in an un-Washingtonian way.
The sport, MMA is way too brutal for me. I owned a boxing gym for eight years on W. 57th St. in Manhattan. We entertained some of the great champions in our sparring ring, like Sugar Ray Leonard, Roberto Duran, and other appropriately, violent men, but however violent the boxers it was nothing like the face punching, kicking, mugging that is UFC. The whole thing is nuts said Joe Rogan the savvy commentator.
The matches were tough and bloody bullfights. I was ready to give Dana White and Joe Rogan a not bad pass when two things happened. An announcer introduced a surprise guest, comedian Tony Hinchcliffe. He’s the racist creep who called beloved Puerto Rico a “floating island of garbage,” at a 2024 Trump election rally at Madison Square Garden. His introduction was totally unpleasant, like when you vomit in the back of your mouth. As bad, one wrestler Josh Hokit slandered Michele Obama in a disgusting way I won’t repeat.
On Sunday, the day observers were optimistic the stupid war with Iran was finally ending, these two losers embarrassed the nation.
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