Brock Lesnar vs. Frank Mir I:

For a year and a half, Frank told everyone about how stupid Brock was for getting caught in such a basic kneebar. Frank also told everyone how awesome he was for pulling off such a brilliant kneebar. Being a dick is more of an art than a science. Brock's approach to the trash talking was more primal. He was going to revenge fuck Frank Mir's corpse until his ghost had a baby.

When they had their rematch at UFC 100, complicated circumstances had led to each of them being a UFC Heavyweight Champion. Not only would they unify the belt, we'd finally see who was deadliest: Ardipithecus or Douchebag. The fight started like their first one-- Brock used his secret technique of being fifty times stronger to hold Frank down by his neck and face and punch him. The only moves Frank managed to land were several thumbs up to his corner to signal that he was still alive, somewhere under the feasting manananggal.

One criticism of Brock's fighting technique is his lack of patience. In his early MMA fights, he tended to frantically whack at his opponents like his mother just deleted his save game. This never really mattered since a sloppy half-punch from Brock Lesnar is an extinction level event for spinal fluid. He has more muscles in his forearms than a clown has in his four freezers. Brock had to marry a pro wrestler because when he shifts in his sleep it's the equivalent of The Bushwackers Irish-whipping you into a steel ladder. However, Brock's thirst for revenge had focused his rage. He wasn't spazzing away with tiny shots-- he was measuring his punches in pure hate. By the end of the first round there was so much of Frank's face on Brock Lesnar's knuckles that to this day, Frank can still taste it when Brock reaches into an elk's uterus to hide his valuables.

When Frank survived the first round, the remaining parts of his brain took one look at the beast that almost killed him and thought, "If we're not dead, that can only mean one thing:

we are invincible." It's the only reason I can think of to explain why he got close to Brock and attempted a flying double knee. It had all the foresight of going to an Alabama family reunion without a condom. Sure enough, Frank bounced off and fell onto his back. It was such an open invitation to a ravaging that I think he might have been trying to confuse and overload Brock Lesnar's sex glands.

Brock fell on him like he was working a jackhammer, and Frank's desperate attempt to roll away from the beating only made things worse. The referee stopped the fight right before it became a recipe for Swedish meatballs. Brock celebrated by taunting the bloody remains of Frank Mir. He screamed,

"Talk all the shit you want now!" Then, mad with revenge, he started flipping off the crowd. Because seriously, fuck those guys for just sitting there and letting him liquify a human. 12,191 MMA fans in attendance and none of them thought to bring tranquilizer darts? That's poor planning. There aren't enough Coors Lights in The Mandalay Bay Events Center to drop a Brock Lesnar after it's made a fresh kill.

Brock Lesnar vs. Frank Mir - The Revenge Match:

The Internet was a total dick about it. Websites were devoted to Fred Ettish's fetal fighting style and for fifteen years he was a cruel punchline. For instance, just look at the end of this very sentence where I say that he lost at UFC 2 so badly that police dogs still confuse his scent for missing battered women.

Two years ago, 53-year-old Fred Ettish decided he had had enough of this shit. He wanted to get back in the cage and avenge his loss. At age 53, that would be crazy, right? Kind of, but Fred's problem was never a lack of balls. He signed to fight a kid named Kyle Fletcher in Brainerd, Minnesota. Ettish wanted revenge on an entire sport, and poor Kyle Fletcher just became the face for it.

When the bell rang, Fred kept Kyle away with front kicks. They were effective, so Kyle tried one of his own. Kyle learned an important lesson in combat: when two people are throwing front kicks, the slower one gets smashed in the dick. Fred is a sportsman and didn't intend to step on the dick of the allegorical representation of his vengeance, but I imagine it felt pretty good. In his mind, thousands of his Youtube critics had just started peeing blood. Or as they might describe it, "lol call 9/11 my dum n****r penis is pee bleding."

Kyle came back and almost knocked Fred out with a knee, but remember what we learned from UFC 2: Fred Ettish can stay awake through 38 different types of clinical deaths. Ettish remained calm and fought off a clumsy guillotine attempt by Kyle. When the fight was back on the feet, Fred slammed Kyle into the mat and drove punches into him until he tapped. Fred Ettish didn't simply get revenge-- this 53-year-old man fucked the God of Revenge's girlfriend.

Every fighter eventually gets knocked out, yet it's something else entirely when a fighter finds himself dangling in the ropes, left for dead by a monster anthropologists can't explain. When Rampage woke up, his first thought was almost certainly "glorp, flibblip," but immediately after that, "revenge." Four years later, at UFC 92, Rampage's chance finally came.

Rampage and Wanderlei both hit so hard that standing within 30 feet of them violates the warranty on your iPod. For that reason, they were wary to step in and trade shots. For most of the first round they circled, sneaking in single punches or leg kicks, but never unleashing the fury that inspired so many Japanese villages to feed them virgins during the harvest season. After three minutes of caution, Wanderlei landed a right hand that gave him the confidence to move in. This was exactly what Rampage had been waiting for his entire life. The left hook he threw landed so hard that the bacteria in Wanderlei's mouth died. He then started dropping punches onto Wanderlei's unconscious head to let even his dreams know: there is no place to hide from Quinton Rampage Jackson's vengeance.

Rampage vs. Wanderlei III: Rampage's Redemption:

Fedor vs. TK I - The Cut:

Fedor is known for his calm, some might say terrifying, lack of emotions. He was born to destroy so he simply does, and after his "loss" to TK, Fedor dispatched 16 men without a grimace or a snarl. If he hadn't been punching their heads into comas, you would have no idea that he meant the men harm. Glorious violence was only a side effect of the talent given to him by God. But when he finally got his rematch against Tsuyoshi Kohsaka, to Hell with all that.

For the first time in his career it looked like Fedor

wanted something dead. Poor Tsuyoshi Kohsaka could only look on in horror while the world's greatest fighter experienced rage for the first time and redefined the ways a human body could express it. Almost immediately, Fedor threw TK into the ground and rezoned his head for strip mining. He punched and punched and only stopped to stand up and stomp a hole into his face. The ref took this opportunity to pause the fight and let the doctors glue together the remaining scraps of Tsuyoshi's skull. After some debate on the sensibility of it, they soon restarted the fight. "Heh," said a shadowy man now standing in TK's corner with a wheat scythe.

I want to say Fedor manhandled him, but neither fighter could be called a "man" at this point. This looked more like a tractor running over a sleeping bag filled with cranberries. Fedor had become Timecop and TK was the mistake that history had made. The fight had to be stopped several more times so the doctors could run a mop across TK's face, and watching the way Fedor controlled him, it was clear he could have ended things any time he wanted. Mercy came at the end of the first round when ringside physicians told the pulpy juice of Tsuyoshi Kohsaka that they were stopping the fight. "What?" he probably said from what was once a mouth. He was pulverized so severely that when he got to the locker room, they confiscated TK's organ donor card and told him he'd be lucky if future people could harvest him for soup.

Fedor vs. TK II - The Revenge:

Seanbaby invented being funny on The Internet with Seanbaby.com. You can also enjoy him on Twitter.

For more of his combat sports writing, see 10 Most Insane Acts of Violence in Kickboxing History, The Josh Koscheck Book of Insults, and The 10 Worst MMA Fights Ever.