You know, I may not have a fleet of G5 airplanes or an insanely successful, multi-million dollar company at my disposal, although I totally could if it wasn’t for my bum knee. I may not be part of a secret group of rich adulterers that smash the hottest trim in shanty towns across the globe, or show up to Hollywood premiers with Ronda Rousey on my arm — again, I’m blaming the bum knee. But despite all this, I take solace in the fact that — regardless of whether you’re UFC President Dana White or Skeeter the local angry drunk — as men, we all like to let loose in pretty much the same fashion. Mainly, getting our friends to embarrass themselves and blowing shit up.
So goes the latest Danavlog (seen above), in which The Baldfather grants us behind-the-scenes access to the one day off he gets each year. And oddly enough, DW doesn’t spend it getting a mani-pedi and eating veal that was killed in front of him like most of his fellow 1%ers. Instead, he spends it at his house in Maine with a few of his closest buddies, completing the redneck superfecta of hot sauce challenges, goat milking, skeet shooting, and hitting 125 mph on his dirt bike. Seriously, if White did all of this while slugging down Labbatt Blues, chain smoking cowboy killers, and demanding that Barack Obama show us his damn birth certificate already, I’d be convinced that we were born in the same town.
Then again, this is the same millionaire who willingly throws himself into mosh pits when he’s not cussing out members of the MMA media, so perhaps we should stop acting surprised when DW continuously defies our expectations for how the President of a major sports organization should act. Party on, Dana. Party on.
–J. Jones
You know, I may not have a fleet of G5 airplanes or an insanely successful, multi-million dollar company at my disposal, although I totally could if it wasn’t for my bum knee. I may not be part of a secret group of rich adulterers that smash the hottest trim in shanty towns across the globe, or show up to Hollywood premiers with Ronda Rousey on my arm — again, I’m blaming the bum knee. But despite all this, I take solace in the fact that — regardless of whether you’re UFC President Dana White or Skeeter the local angry drunk – as men, we all like to let loose in pretty much the same fashion. Mainly, getting our friends to embarrass themselves and blowing shit up.
So goes the latest Danavlog (seen above), in which The Baldfather grants us behind-the-scenes access to the one day off he gets each year. And oddly enough, DW doesn’t spend it getting a mani-pedi and eating veal that was killed in front of him like most of his fellow 1%ers. Instead, he spends it at his house in Maine with a few of his closest buddies, completing the redneck superfecta of hot sauce challenges, goat milking, skeet shooting, and hitting 125 mph on his dirt bike. Seriously, if White did all of this while slugging down Labbatt Blues, chain smoking cowboy killers, and demanding that Barack Obama show us his damn birth certificate already, I’d be convinced that we were born in the same town.
Then again, this is the same millionaire who willingly throws himself into mosh pits when he’s not cussing out members of the MMA media, so perhaps we should stop acting surprised when DW continuously defies our expectations for how the President of a major sports organization should act. Party on, Dana. Party on.
–J. Jones