# Bloodsport at the Cantina: A subversion of Machismo.



## Mankini (Aug 21, 2015)

One can find macho culture everywhere. America is inundated with violence and anger: violent sports; violent music, movies, TV shows. Violence is entertainment here and even wars are 'simulcast' to satisfy Thanatos voyeurism. In the city of Colorado Springs I met this phenomenon head on.

................................................. SPRING......................................................................







As a diesel mechanic I worked in a cavernous metal and cinderblock hangar with excellent acoustics: so I put Vivaldi's Four Seasons on my ghetto blaster while working to take advantage of these acoustics. Almost immediately, a sergeant who was a jail deputy in civilian life Tsk-tsk'ed at me and said "This is a mechanics' shop; not a Salon." There is a wretched ''modern rock'' radio station in Colorado Springs which plays the aforementioned angry angst-ridden macho rock...and that is what the sergeant replaced my Vivaldi with, as more appropriate for 'wrench-turnin Patriots'. Ah well so it goes.

....................................................... SUMMER...........................................................................






Anyway, about 6 months in to our stay at Fort Carson, everyone was through with the Army's silly ways, and ready to return to our civilian lives. But greedy senior officers who were double-dipping civil service salaries and their O-3, O-6, and CW2 military salaries made sure we were extended and stop-lossed there for an additional 12 months. At this point everyone was excited about going home after finishing 6 months, and so when we were notified of the extension, people were crestfallen and many went to sick call for antidepressants, insomnia meds and anti-anxiety pills. I, at the time, was disgruntled, but not to the extent of the others bcause i had no apartment, spouse, kids, or career waiting at home. I was earning more money per month than I ever had before and had purchased 2 used cars: a nice, very Bourgeois 92 Corolla and a POS 89 GMC Jimmy that were getting me around town, into the mountains for 4WD camping trips, and back and forth to see family 300 miles south.

One day a young trooper announced that he had been prizefighting at a bar downtown and earning approximately $200 bucks a night beating down college kids and local dudes. I queried him on this and began to formulate a plan. Later that day a friend and I went to Kmart and got an off-brand banana hammock. Then I went to my room and put together an outfit with the Speedo: just my Army issue white cotton long johns, a blue mesh exercise jersey to complete the ensemble.

.........................................................................FALL.................................................................................






Then I dosed up on Ginseng, aspirin, and a 6 pack of Redbull, gathered all the guys in that floor of the barracks, and we carpooled down to the bar so I could fight. You just added your name to the list: completely free...then just waited for your turn, when you would be assigned a random opponent. I drank a JagerBomb then climbed into the ring and was assigned a young, little dude who saw me (I'm 5'10'' and 225#s) and silently mouthed "Be chill Bro", with a kind of scared look on his face. Spectators noticed my outfit and cheered: most guys doing this were very drunk and out to show off for the women and their Bro's. I cannot overstate how much these fights were about being a tough guy, and trying to hurt your opponent. It was not, as I was doing, an opportunity to create spectacle and prance around in skintight fabrics. I also stuffed a rolled up pair of socks in the Speedo to add dramatic flair.

3 30 second rounds. They put a padded helmet on you and give you soft, light practice gloves. The winner received a $100 tattoo gift certificate or $50 in cash, plus a free drink.
Round 1 started, and I flailed away at the little guy like a crab. Round 2: little guy getting tired, saying "Ooof!"
Round 3: Little guy starts sinking and finally his knees give out due to sheer terror and he wobbles away.

I got my Jager shot and sold my $100 tattoo cert. for $50 to a colleague.

These fights occurred every Monday, so I dressed up every Monday and fought. People began to accompany me in droves: the bar management noticed this and began to greet me at the door and ask "What are you wearing tonight??!!" I began to receive free drinks on arrival and was feted by management, my Bro's, and women....unbelievable amounts of drunk, horny young women began to fling themselves at me. My roommate was a Tae Kwan Do black belt, and also secretly gay gunsmith who would twirl delicately at the Army gym, performing his graceful kata. He challenged me incessantly, and after warning him "No gay stuff", I took him on several times and punished him repeatedly. I guess his Tae Kwan Do didnt work in boxing, for whatever reason. I began to fight multiple fights per night and was earning hundreds of dollars every Monday. Soldiers throughout Fort Carson had heard of me now, and the bar was packed on Mondays with all ranks of soldier. My senior NCOs and commanding officers began to show up and watch.

.............................................................WINTER......................................................................................






Finally, I went all out and bought red and green Christmas Elf tights and matching silver lame elf slippers at a joke shop, and wore them to fight. A tall, lanky redheaded soldier who had trained as a boxer in high school challenged me and punished me with uppercuts. Noone liked him after that and I quit fighting. It wasnt fun anymore.

However, for several weeks, depressed, homesick people were distracted, and I gave vent to my always present nihilistic Life-Force. I was nihilism incarnate for a short period, and was able to drip scorn on the macho violence worshipping rape culture of Colorado Springs and its military ethos.


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## Kim Chee (Aug 21, 2015)

It's all fun and games until you get your ass kicked

Shoulda bit his ear off.


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