There is something heart-wrenching, desperate, and primal when a person is stripped down to their guts and training, set upon a stage, and paid (or not) to hit or be hit until the bell has rung, the fight is over, or the will has left. What remains – bloodily shredded, broken, damaged almost beyond repair – can still smile and rise to fight again. The human spirit, embodied so beautifully by the fighter, moves us in ways individually known. The growing popularity of the various MMA events even in our “enlightened” world proves the voluntary brutality will forever be part of us. You are free to think what you want about these men and women. I know a few of these fighters and see their dedication, no-nonsensibility, free spiritedness, goofiness, lust for life, and desire to win. For me, they represent finely-chiseled gods and goddesses with a determined beauty and all-too-human passions and susceptibilities. They are intoxicating to behold.