Out of all the sports, boxing is one of man’s favorites. The art of pugilism. That’s what we call it, because men give nice legitimate names to nice legitimate things like knocking someone about with your fists. That’s an art on many levels. We also know a lot about the things we like; in this case boxing. Things like reach is important and just because the ref can call the fight doesn’t mean he should. And most importantly, women can’t fucking box.

Women boxing is just like women doing anything that requires strategy, talent, and being light on your feet; a fucking calamity. It’s so bad that I have to use a word that hasn’t been used in like eighty years to describe it. Women are a calamity in the ring. Women boxing is like women dancing. Just a bunch of wild swings and awkward gyrations to an imaginary beat that dogs can’t even hear and which pretty much always ends in blood and tears. And for what?

Since women can’t box, why in the hell did I wake up to see that on October 15th, a women is going to box a man. Holy shit.

Actually, let me rephrase that. On October 15th, a woman is going to get the bejesus beaten the fuck out of her by a fully grown man live for millions of people on Pay Per View. That’s not a prediction either. In no way does saying that a man would kick the shit out of a woman at boxing count as a prediction. It’s just going through the motions, like a weatherman telling you it’s going to be hot in the Sahara Desert tomorrow. No fucking shit, ya think?

Just like you, at first I thought this was some kind of jelly wrestling charity event. Where the ladies strap on some novelty, oversized boxing gloves and a liberal coating of oil and then wrestle around in a vaguely and desperately arousing kind of way. What is it called, Foxy boxing? I think that’s it.

This is not that. I don’t know what misconception of terms or ideas led to it, but a woman is actually going to box a man. This is the stupidest most pointless thing ever done.

“It’s in me to fight. If I didn’t box, I’m the kind of person who would kill 50 people…”

That’s a quote from Ann “Almost a Man, But Not” Wolfe, the female contender in this mockery of an event, and you can practically hear the desperation in it. As though the little girl who was ten when her father left for good and sent her on this haphazard, attention seeking road to the ring is speaking to you from the distant past. Pathetic.

Women can’t box because they can’t roll with anything, especially punches. That’s the secret to boxing and it’s one of the greatest life lessons that a man learns from the sport. Everyone has a great game plan until they get hit. That’s it. Men learn that at an early age and it teaches us to be adaptable and totally flexible at all times; and not shrill, shrewy nags who obsess about the most meaningless shit and plan their lives out like a fucking fairy tale while keeping their brains boxed and shrink-wrapped like a mint condition fucking Batmobile.

Talk about not being able to see the forest for the trees, women can’t see anything at all. They’re too busy choking on fistfuls of self-indulgent fantasy horseshit.

Here’s an example. If a woman is going to a dinner party and for some reason the blue shoes that she thinks match her dress are out of commission, then the whole evening is fucked. Fucked just like a woman’s boxing match, where women come out screaming and crying and throwing blows (literally in the case of boxing) and not really giving a shit if any of them land because women have no concept of victory anyway.

At least the phrase “It’s never okay to hit a girl” isn’t true anymore. Way to go ladies. Is the plan to take out the glass ceiling by throwing pride and integrity at it until it shatters and the bullshit rains down on everybody? I guess so.

Read more about this clusterfuck.

This entry was posted under Wallow in It.