Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Brock Lesnar: The Man, The Myth, The Wrecking Machine.

In the spirit of Brocktober I've taken the time to create/recycle my own look into the legend that is now Brock Lesnar.

Brock Lesnar currently has more fans attached to his testicles then he has blonde short and curlys, and there’s always room for more. His prowess is enough to turn even one of BE’s founding members into a half-drooling bearded fanboy. This goliath Aryan wet-dream is the cellmate from hell, twice your size with a serious mean streak well adept at taking you down and either pounding you into a bloody pulp or choking you unconscious if you’re lucky. When Brock says jump you ask how high, and when Brock tells you to service him you end up on your knees twice as fast as any kneeling midget could hope to. Make no mistake about it friend, the only one that’s gonna have a phallic sword on their chest in this scenario is you (and it ain’t gonna be a made out of ink) and God help you if he gets back mount. What Lesnar lacks in skill he makes up for in BROCK SMASH! He may not be the most experienced fighter, but he does have a never ending desire to push people’s shit in further past the point in which was originally thought to be scientifically possible. He goes by many different aliases; Honkey Kong, Vanilla Guerilla, Brockle Snar, Albino Rape Machine, but he only has one prediction…PAIN!

The WWF is where Lesnar first busted onto the scene and left a Brock shaped impression not only in our wall, but in all of our hearts. From 2002 to 2004 he was a one man wrecking crew whose signature moves included psychotic stare and murder. At the height of his pro wrestling career a realization began to don on Brock, he really could be lending his God given abilities to more useful means of crushing and dismembering. It was at this time he told Vince McMahon, as well as his then pregnant fiancee, to take a hike as he moved on to bigger and better ventures. He hooked up with the human real doll known as Sable, and decided to take a crack at becoming the next big thing in the NFL. He made his way onto the Minnesota Vikings about as quickly as he made his way back off. The Vikings did offer him the chance of representing them in NFL Europa but he declined the offer to play with “Them tampon sportin Euro-Queens” (Alright I made that quote up, but he did still turn down the offer).

Brock finally entered the realm of legitimate fighting on June 2nd, 2007 against Min Soo Kim for K-1’s Dynamite!! USA. Being trained at the Minnesota Martial Arts Academy (I think I'm seeing a pattern here) he immediately took down his underpowered Korean opposition and did what Brock does best. Kim tapped to strikes at about a minute in and Brock was on his way to the big leagues. He then tracked down Dana White, told him “K-1 don’t pay me nothin” and had a contract signed for him just like that. Brock was set to face former Heavyweight Champion and Bob's Big Boy enthusiast Frank Mir at UFC 81. Due to a questionable stand up and point deduction from mustachioed official Steve Mazzagatti, Mir was able to hold on just long enough to secure a sneaky yet textbook kneebar that caused the next big thing to tap immediately.

(At this time Brock had appeared to be rocking some new ink. It seems as though he had gone into a tattoo parlor and demanded the artist give him something that would represent his overbearing and destructive masculinity. The tattoo artist naturally took this to mean ‘Hey, put a giant penis on top of a hand grenade at the center of my chest pointing right towards my face area.” When the tattoo artist was done thankfully for his sake Brock apparently misinterpreted the results.)

After smashing Heath Herrings orbital bone at UFC 87 the next logical step for a 2-1 novice with a single win over a somewhat regarded challenger would be a shot at the Heavyweight title against UFC Hall of Famer Randy Couture at UFC 91. Now Randy Couture had just come out of retirement and was 76 years old when they fought, but he was still plenty ferocious.In round 2 Brock was able to knock the seasoned veteran on the ground and rain down on him with some not so destructive yet rapid fire hammerfists which saw the ref calling the fight making Brock the new heavyweight ruler. UFC 100 was just around the corner, and it was set to be one of the biggest events in the history of the company. The date was ready for some white on white crime when it was announced the rematch between Frank Mir and Brock Lesnar would take place as the co-main event to the real PPV juggernaut of the night, Jon Fitch. Just before Jon Fitch and Paulo Thiago virtually tore the roof down with their fast paced and relentless boring, Brock Lesnar solidified his status as more than just some WWE reject. For two rounds Lesnar force fed the cocky interim-champion a large dose of comeuppance for every bit of trash talking Mir had done leading up to the fight, and unfortunately for Mir there was a whole lot of it.

After the fight with his following promo the legend was truly born as Lesnar informed the crowd of his love for their hate, critiqued his opponent’s questionable storage of his lucky horseshoe, intentionally slammed one of the company’s top sponsors, and even made mention of potentially getting on top of his wife Sable who has still yet to be heard from again. It seemed like we would all have to continue to put up with our oppressive tyrant even still, until it was discovered that Lesnar wasn’t just full of shit figuratively as some fans had originally been proclaiming.

Unknown to us all Brock had only really been operating to 60% of his full destructive potential for a whole year (and you know 60% is a 100% accurate number because a legitamate medical doctor told the guy that told us so). The symptoms of his real ailment, originally diagnosed as mono because Brock was apparently in the 7th grade, didn’t make themselves truly realized until an unfortunate trip to Canada saw Brock’s health rapidly deteriorate. How could the horribly incompetent doctors of a Canadien hospital have truly known what was bothering Brock? I’m sure the actors on ER have more medical experience then those people. After nearly dying in the United States’ second worse neighbor, Brock was eventually saved when moved to an American hospital full of regular doctors. Dana White spared no expense in making sure that his top draw good friend was taken care of by the best. Brock was later diagnosed properly with diverticulitis and had to undergo surgery for the illness. Afterwards Brock made a miraculous recorvery, and along with his newly reinforced intestines his heart apparently grew three sizes that day. With his recovery Brock was bestowed with a new lease on life and a realization was made; you don’t have to just be miserable while you’re smashing faces, you can do it with a smile. But with his new health came a new challenger in the almost equally monstrous Shane "Shame on you" Carwin.

At UFC 116 Brock Lesnar went on to successfully unify the UFC Heavyweight championship against Shane Carwin as well as place himself rightfully as the new number one Heavyweight in the world (suck it you pudgy Russian). Brock would make a crucial mistake in the first round, he raised his guard only to crumple under the tremendous weight of his own muscular and well toned arms. To the viewers this appeared as though Carwin had somehow actually gained the upper hand over the indestructible Titan, but all of the faithful Brockheads at home knew better. Lesnar was merely bidding his time waiting for Solomon Grundy with an engineering degree (powered by a limitless supply of his own sense of moral superiority) to punch, elbow, bloody, and brain-damage himself out and force then himself into paralysis--the plan worked perfectly! Now some people think Carwin came into the second round winking at Brock when in actuality he was merely twitching as the result of seeing a psychic premonition of his own demise, but unlike the pretty white kids of Final Destination he was powerless to stop his upcoming fate. Brock came out in the second round like a teenager from out of Roman Polanski's basement.

Brock almost immediately shot to take Carwin down seemingly in slow motion, you know...so the viewer at home can take the appropriate amount of time to observe the skill involved. Like what’s previously been established, once the Brockback Mountain gets on top of you it’s time to start contacting loved ones and getting your affairs in order. Instead of following a trail of breadcrumbs to find his way back out, Carwin instead chose to lay under the mercy of Brock allowing him to not only achieve full mount but to also grab an Arm Triangle choke from side control powerful enough to squeeze the truth out of a politician. As Joe Rogan observed the way Shane Carwin’s arm was positioned he was going to be perfectly fine…until he immediately wasn’t and gave up.

Lesnar raised himself up triumphant against adversity and proclaimed himself to be a humbled champion while still the toughest s.o.b. around, so by humbled he means not for real-real just for play-play. Carwin was gracious in defeat (although a little potty-mouthed) and besides having a full body seizure, being paralyzed from the waist down, and being diagnosed with bronchitis by his doctor before the fight came with no excuses for the loss. It was at this moment that the faithless became the converted, and the full powers of Lesnar were truly realized. Brock proved to us all that not only does his chin contain more lead than a Chinese Barbie, but he also has the heart of a champion, the hunger of an Ethiopian, and the strength of the mentally challenged. At the moment Brock’s next opponent is set to be Mexican prison gang member Cain Velasquez, who's apparently good at wrestling or something like that but like that matters since we all know size wins all fights ever (which is why my penis remains undefeated). Brock shouldn’t even bother to fight any more at this point, he should sit on top of his mountain receiving his virgin offerings from the villagers only coming down to rain more unnecessary destruction on those not really calling for it. If one man who is just really strong can’t knock him out with only half-decent boxing technique and cardio problems, then truly NO MAN can accomplish such a feat! Believe it, for it is written…right here in my article.


  1. Whenever I hear Brocktober I wanna put on my dirndl and drink das boot. Also Brock means badger, which I think is funny.

    Another great post.

  2. Haven't finished reading this yet. Just wanted to let you know how hot it is in Scandinavia.

  3. So did SC give you Lesnarphelia? Or did you guys just do some light oral?

  4. Oxygen, Hasbrowns w/ ketchup, and sarcasm...
    3 things you can never have too much of.

  5. This was fucking hilarious. In case you weren't aware.

  6. How hot is it in Scandinavia Farnsworth?

  7. Fucking fantastic! I like Brock but this had me cracking up!

  8. Its turrible, Marta. Yesterday it was 6 degrees.

    I was trying to leave subtle hint about my new BE screen name.

  9. Sorry Farns, I totally was going a different direction with that haha...my bad

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