(Welcome to Hell, “UFC Fan.”)
The UFC has finally done it, Potato Nation. They’ve finally crossed the line in the fucking sand.
Over the past year, the petty larcenists and newly-reformed-but-not-really-reformed gang members that constitute the UFC’s marketing department have been facing increasing pressure from their shiny-headed overlord to try and convince us that the UFC’s injury plagued, garbage ass pay-per-views were worth our money. And because a group of ragtag, delinquent video editors can only do so much, they were forced to scramble: recycling decade-old highlights to try and sell us on one fight and using outright tomfoolery to sell us on another. Hell, they even got so desperate that they took the honest approach to advertising.
But their best efforts could not prepare them for the UFC’s first trip to China. “A card so early,” they cried, “No one will want to watch that! Why, boss? WHY?!” They were desperate, knowing they had to go big with this advertising campaign or they would surely lose their jobs and be cast back into the cesspool they once called an existence. So, drawing inspiration from the recently popularity of such “torture porn” movies as Saw, Hostel, and Breakin 2: Electric Bugaloo, they put together an ad campaign that no one could dare look away from: a prolonged public execution, as carried out by the UFC’s brightest stars.
Three experts were brought in: The Muscle (Rashad Evans), the Loon (Chael Sonnen), and the Brains (Arianny Celeste), and over the course of three weeks, the subject dubbed “UFC fan” in the header photo (out of respect for his family) was hazed to death.
Yes, in an effort to boost ratings for the 9 am-scheduled UFC Macao, one young fan was deprived of sleep for nearly 504 hours, all the while being relentlessly mocked, ridiculed, bamboozled, and intimidated by the very people he once hung posters of on his wall (and hid beneath his mattress). According to police reports, Sonnen, Evans, and Celeste took shifts to ensure that “UFC fan” never rested for longer than 30 seconds at a time. They would blast music over a speaker system, use megaphones, and even resorted to beating the victim with pillow cases stuffed with feathers and bars of soap (see :08 of Session 2) in order to keep the poor kid awake.
After burning the victim with a blowtorch and removing all of his fingers and toes via hacksaw off camera, the victim finally ceased to live at 5:35 a.m., November the 7th. The first police to arrive on scene determined he had passed from a combination of extreme insomnia related trauma and the most horrifying case of blue balls they had ever seen. Oddly enough, the hacksaw and blowtorch business was left completely off the death report.
Although Sonnen, Evans, and Celeste have since fled the country, we here at CagePotato were able to come across the hidden diary of “UFC fan” through a series of mishaps (Danga happened to be on the scene and lifted it from a cop. Don’t ask.) and have presented several segments along with the video selections that we could legally show you below.
Session 1 – Sonnen
– Day 1: I awoke here some hours ago, bound, gagged and bleeding from the forehead. The last thing I recall was receiving a Tweet hinting at the location of front row tickets to UFC 154, as sent out by *name blocked for legal purposes* himself. However, when I arrived at the location, I was told by a gray-bearded man with massive biceps [Photo of suspect here] that I should hop into his stretch Hummer for “The Ultimate Fan Experience.” That was the last thing I recall before being woken up by Chael Sonnen roughly three hours ago.
I was disoriented to say the least; most of my clothes had been removed, my hair disheveled, and I appeared to be in a sound stage dressed up to look like my room. How did they know what my room looked like? I had not time to think of such trivial manners, as Mr. Sonnen proceeded to engage me in a parade of increasingly annoying acts involving musical instruments, screaming something about being “The Undisputed King of Zelfor” all the while. I am confused, scared, and hungry, but mostly I’d just like my trousers back.
Session 2 – Evans
– Day 2: It has quickly become apparent that whoever is behind my capture will not allow me to leave this room on my own accord. I have yet to see a light other than the faux sun they have shined through my window since I arrived here. I don’t know what they want with me. It’s like every day is the same. I try to fall asleep, but just as I do, one of these three demons appears — as if out of thin air — to wake me. Some hours ago, Rashad Evans woke me up by throwing me out of bed. I broke my wrist trying to sustain myself, but despite my pleas, Mr. Evans proceeded to beat me with a sock full of nickels.
After he had finished, he told me to “Clean myself up, because I looked like a whore,” before exiting the room. I obliged, and cleaned both myself and my room to the thoroughest of my abilities. Physically and mentally drained, I attempted to catch some sleep, ANY sleep, but was immediately awoken again by Evans, WHO MESSED UP MY ROOM AGAIN. Why?! Why would he have me clean it if he was just going to mess it up again? I hear one of them coming. I must be silent for now.
Session 3 – Celeste
– Day 3: I was visited by an angel last night, or whatever I shall call the fleeting moments of I receive in between beatings. She told me that everything was going to fine, that I would be released from this prison before I could count to three. Or five. She insisted that I know how to count to both three and five, for it would be all I needed to not only break free, but become famous and loved once I was free.
-Day 4: It appears that my fantasy was just that. I awoke this time to find the beautiful and incomparable Arianny Celeste standing before me. Surely, I thought, she was the angel I had dreamed of, the one that had come to carry me away from this Hell. Alas, it was but a ploy. She proceeded to chase me around the room with a megaphone for no less than an hour, insulting my ability to provide for my loved ones the entire time. When she ceased her attack, she grabbed my crotch and declared that she was “through with me” before exiting the room. But more than sex with a “celebrity,” more even than those UFC 154 tickets, I just want to sleep. I just want to…
It was at this point that the videos became far too graphic for us to show you.
-Day 8: It has been over a week. It must be. I am beginning to hallucinate from sleep deprivation. I can’t take it anymore. If one of them isn’t talking about Jon Jones, the other is sexually molesting me. And here Arianny goes again with the Jon Jones stuff. WE GET IT, HE’S A GOOD FIGHTER. A few hours ago, two of my teeth fell out. But even worse are the spiders I can’t seem to get out of my skin.
-Day 12: It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped Evans or Sonnen from my UFC fantasy league, because it seems so absurd and impossible to believe that they would ever attain gold again. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that UFC fighters are really good at heart.
-Day 15: I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.
Day 19: All work and no sleep makes me a dull boy. Allwork and no sleap m8kes me dull boy.Work and nosleepmakes me dull. All work and no sleep…
So there you have it; corruption, torture, and murder, all carried out by the UFC to ensure that you watch UFC Macao, which we will be liveblogging starting tomorrow at 9 a.m. For UFC Fan’s sake, I hope to see you there.
