Mma Fighting Quotes

I feel like I'm stuck in a bad movie, with a little devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. But the goddamn devil is twice the size and my angel is a fucking mute. Great, I have a fucking mute angel.

The warrior guided by the spirit serves humanity, the warrior without, serves the ego

Glad I coated you with my sweat now. It'll keep the other lions away.

I quickly scoop up the rest of my personal life on display on the sidewalk and I'm relieved that I had removed the flavored condoms that Regina had shoved into my purse before I left yesterday. Bacon Flavor. What woman wants to taste meat while, you know, tasting meat?

When we met, we were two injured souls. But keeping the real out of our lives for fear of what we might find. But nothing could have kept us apart. I never believed in destiny. Thought that was a bunch of crap for people who read too many books. Until you.

Perfect is highly overrated. I'm a character in my story, going through the chapters of my life as if it was written by an imaginary person, when I should be the author. - Elle

Ride me. You're so tight and wet. I'm going to fill up that pretty little pussy and make it mine. In you. So that the whole god damn world knows you're mine.

There's serenity in the stillness of the water and my body absorbs it through my pours, desperate to find its peace.

Elle: "You really think there's no forgiveness in what happened?" Nico: "Forgiveness from who, Elle?

Love isn’t something you can turn off. When it happens, it takes a little piece of who you are. I think sometimes people keep fighting because they’re more afraid to lose that piece of them, rather than lose the person they love.

You're smart and confident and the people around you seem to love you." He stops and watches me, I can tell he is deciding to continue. "And when I look into your eyes I see a little light flicker..." He pauses for a second. I look at him, but still don't speak. "And for the last twenty four hours all I could think about was what it would take to turn that flicker into a flame.

The way that Nico looks at me makes me high. It’s like a drug I crave desperately to have again. His pleasure is my reward, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn it.

An hour later I'm on my way back to the office, with Nico's scent on my clothes and inside of me. I have a sneaking suspicion that Nico wanted it that way, knowing that I was seeing William.

You're here." I look up at him. "I am." My voice is soft, but I can tell by the smirk on his face that he hears me just fine. "Does that mean not really is a no then?" His face is serious now. "Ask me again." I grin up at the handsome face that is towering over me, invading my personal space. "Are you seeing anyone?" "No." My response is assertive. "Yes. You are." I'm confused. "I am?" "I don't share Elle." "Oh." Oh my.

Anyone who likes or hates Dana White should take a look at this.

No one’s ever looked at me the way he looks at me.  I feel a silent rumble in my gut and I know something’s just changed in me forever.  I’ll never be able to go back to comfortable and nice after feeling whatever it is burning between us.  It scares the hell out of me and draws me in at the same time.

I can't stall any longer. I think of what my therapist would tell me to do if she was sitting right next to me, watching me act like a coward. She'd say rip the Band-Aid off. Allow the wound to breathe..to heal itself. The worst part is in the anticipation of the tear, not the tear itself.

Where the hell is your guard?" She shouts. Damn if she doesn't sound like Haley. "I'm tired." "Do I look like I care? You're getting the hell pounded out of you. If you want to tap out, then tap out, but don't stand there and let him win.

I do whatever it takes to make it Break through anything I'm face to face with It's true, you gon' make me lose my patience 'Cause victory is mine and I'mma take it

You’re killing me, Elle. I feel like I’m fourteen with you. I’m walking around with a hard-on half the time from just thinking about you. I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight now.

Nico: By the time I drove back home last night, I’d gotten myself under control. I’d reasoned with my hard-on until it finally saw my way. Who knew you could reason with a fucking hard-on. I guess I never tried. I just took care of it, did what it wanted me to.

When we met, we were two injured souls. Both keeping the real out of our lives for fear of what we might find. But nothing could have kept us apart. I never believed in destiny. Thought that was a bunch of crap for people who read too many books. Until I met you. You’re it for me, Babe. I didn’t even know I was missing something until I found you, but now I don’t know how I got through a day without what you’ve given me. You’re my soul mate. As sappy as it sounds, it’s god damn true. Nothing has ever been truer in my life. So no, I’m not worried about this fight not helping me heal from my past, because it’s you who does that for me. You’ve filled all the cracks in my heart and made me better. I never thought I’d say this after what I went through, but I’m the luckiest bastard on this earth.

As Aristotle wrote a long, long time ago, and I'm paraphrasing here, the goal is to avoid mediocrity by being prepared to try something and either failing miserably or triumphing grandly. Mediocrity is not about failing, and it's the opposite of doing. Mediocrity, in other words, is about not trying. The reason is achingly simple, and I know you've heard it a thousand times before: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

I feel like I am stuck in a bad movie, with a little devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. But the goddamn devil is twice the size and my angel is a fucking mute. Great, I have a fucking mute angel.

I feel like I’m stuck in a bad movie, with a little devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other.  But the goddamn devil is twice the size and my angel is a fucking mute.  Great, I have a fucking mute angel.

The moment comes back to haunt you when you least expect it. Just when you think you've finally found a way to bury it somewhere deep inside yourself, it rears its ugly head and then you're back to square one. Back to relive the pain. The regret. THe guilt. And the healing has to start all over again.

Karate without heart is just A corpse

A blanket and a brick could be put in a ring and paid to fight. Compared to MMA, it would be boring. But compared to boxing, it would be downright thrilling. 


An exceptional Sensei has traits such as patience and integrity. Otherwise, natural fighting ability, cruelty and aggressive behavior may be observed in most animal predators.

The man may well be my kryptonite.

Boxing creates fighters. This is not a place for showoffs or inflated influencers.

If you want to fight, then fight like this is your last and first fight and keep punching. And even if you're dying, if you have one last breath "PUNCH", then you should die.

I’ve wanted to come inside of you so badly it hurts. Feel that clenching little pussy slide up and down my bare cock. I need in. Now

Aaron opened his mouth, closed it again, and fixed Nicky with an annoyed look. "You're explaining this to Andrew when he gets back." "Oh, hell no," Nicky said, and jerked a thumb at Neil. "I'mma leave that one to him. Thanks for taking one for the team, Neil. You're a real friend." Nicky grinned over at Neil, but his amusement didn't last. He seemed confused by whatever he saw on Neil's face and backpedaled with, "Don't worry, we'll send Renee along with you for backup. Last I checked Andrew only wins half their fights, so you might actually survive. Uh. Neil?" He should just let it go, or at least leave it to think about later, but Neil couldn't resist. "Are we?" he asked, because hadn't Betsy said it just a few days ago? He hadn't understood it then and hadn't even tried, too angry and upset over everything else that was happening. Tonight it almost meant something, though what, Neil didn't know. Realizing Nicky couldn't follow his twisting train of thought, Neil forced himself to say, "Friends?" It was like that one word punched all the joy out of Nicky, but the look that crossed Nicky's face next was too fast for Neil to decipher. Nicky's smile was back a second later, but it didn't reach his eyes. Neil might have apologized, except Nicky reached out and scrubbed a gloved hand through Neil's hair. "You are going to be the absolute death of me," Nicky said. "Yeah, kid. We're friends. You're stuck with us, like it or not.

We must not eat dripping any more,’ warned Mma Makutsi from behind a healthy living magazine. ‘We must give up such things, Mma.’ This advice had been accompanied by a stern look in Mma Ramotswe’s direction. Mma Ramotswe had not taken that lying down. ‘Soon they will be telling us not to eat anything,’ she countered. ‘They will say that only air is good for you. Air and water.’ Mma Makutsi had not approved. ‘You cannot fight science, Mma. Science is telling us that many of the things we like to eat in this country are not good for us. They say that these things are making us too large.’ ‘I am not fighting science, Mma,’ replied Mma Ramotswe. ‘I am just saying that we have to have some things that we like, otherwise we shall be very unhappy. And if you are very unhappy you can die – we all know that.’ She allowed that to sink in before she continued. ‘There are many people who have been thinking a lot about science who are now late. It would have been better for them to spend more time being happy while they had the chance. That is well known, Mma – it is very well known.’ Mma Makutsi had become silent.

Why did you pick me up on a motorcycle if you had an SUV in the garage?" Nico looks down sheepishly and then I see the cocky lopsided smile that just melts me somehow. "I wanted to feel your arms wrapped around me tightly." Right. Damn. Answer

That’s good.  Because you’re going to be my assistant.”  He grins like a Cheshire cat.  I raise my eyebrows in surprise.  “I am?” “Yep, I’m going to put my hands all over that body of yours in the front of the room and you’re going to kick my ass.

Chapter 8: Alteration Speed. You will be introduced to the "safeguard," known as alteration speed. Through mastery of body mechanics, you will develop the ability to stop and adjust instantly in the midst of movement—just in case you initiate a wrong move!

What is this?” she coughed out. “All you’re gonna get…or maybe not.” The last bit was said in such a deep, throaty voice, she strained to catch it. It sounded naughty, like he was contemplating tangling his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back, and covering her mouth with his own. Oh sweet pirouette. She felt a little bit breathless at the idea. The booze didn’t help. Needing something to do with her hands besides reaching across the table and testing out his “maybe not,” she fiddled with the hem of her sweater. Her cheeks warmed, nevertheless. KNOCK OUT

He looked up through long, wet lashes and narrowed crystal-blue eyes at her. With a final swipe of the towel to his head, he bunched it up in his fist. The gray ball was sent hurling in the air, spiraled once, and hit her boss square in the face. Jerry sputtered, and swatted away the offensive material. Keane “Boom-Yay” O’Shea ˜ KNOCK OUT

Steve was a warrior in every sense of the word, but battling wildlife perpetrators just wasn’t the same as old-fashioned combat. Because Steve’s knees continued to deteriorate, his surfing ability was severely compromised. Instead of giving up in despair, Steve sought another outlet for all his pent-up energy. Through our head of security, Dan Higgins, Steve discovered mixed martial arts (or MMA) fighting. Steve was a natural at sparring. His build was unbelievable, like a gorilla’s, with his thick chest, long arms, and outrageous strength for hugging things (like crocs). Once he grabbed hold of something, there was no getting away. He had a punch equivalent to the kick of a Clydesdale, he could just about lift somebody off the ground with an uppercut, and he took to grappling as a wonderful release. Steve never did anything by halves. I remember one time the guys were telling him that a good body shot could really wind someone. Steve suddenly said, “No one’s given me a good body shot. Try to drop me with a good one so I know what it feels like.” Steve opened up his arms and Dan just pile drove him. Steve said, in between gasps, “Thanks, mate. That was great, I get your point.” I would join in and spar or work the pads, or roll around until I was absolutely exhausted. Steve would go until he threw up. I’ve never seen anything like it. Some MMA athletes are able to seek that dark place, that point of total exhaustion--they can see it, stare at it, and sometimes get past it. Steve ran to it every day. He wasn’t afraid of it. He tried to get himself to that point of exhaustion so that maybe the next day he could get a little bit further. Soon we were recruiting the crew, anyone who had any experience grappling. Guys from the tiger department or construction were lining up to have a go, and Steve would go through the blokes one after another, grappling away. And all the while I loved it too. Here was something else that Steve and I could do together, and he was hilarious. Sometimes he would be cooking dinner, and I’d come into the kitchen and pat him on the bum with a flirtatious look. The next thing I knew he had me in underhooks and I was on the floor. We’d be rolling around, laughing, trying to grapple each other. It’s like the old adage when you’re watching a wildlife documentary: Are they fighting or mating? It seems odd that this no-holds-barred fighting really brought us closer, but we had so much fun with it. Steve finally built his own dojo on a raised concrete pad with a cage, shade cloth, fans, mats, bags, and all that great gear. Six days a week, he would start grappling at daylight, as soon as the guys would get into work. He had his own set of techniques and was a great brawler in his own right, having stood up for himself in some of the roughest, toughest, most remote outback areas. Steve wasn’t intimidated by anyone. Dan Higgins brought a bunch of guys over from the States, including Keith Jardine and other pros, and Steve couldn’t wait to tear into them. He held his own against some of the best MMA fighters in the world. I always thought that if he’d wanted to be a fighter as a profession, he would have been dangerous. All the guys heartily agreed.

God, he wanted this woman. Was there a chance in hell she could fit into his world? Not the business man by day or the MMA fighter by evening, but the Dom by night.

… I said, “Jimmy, tell the Captain that Maarten will most likely call crying about me.” Jimmy laughed and said, “He already did!” Back on the river, fighting a seven knot current we made slow headway upstream towards Harbel. First my First Mate Olaf was murdered, and now my Chief Engineer. In my gut I knew that Maarten was right about who killed Eddie, but what possessed Eddie to have sex with one of the tribal girls was beyond me. He must have known the consequences if he got caught; I just didn’t understand what got into Eddie. Messing around with tribal girls was bad enough, but once they have been promised to someone else by the chief, it spelled real trouble. Suddenly the thought came to me that Maarten may have been fooling around with the native girls as well. Was it Maarten? If so how could he have twisted the facts around so that Eddie would take the fall? No ready answer came to me, so I would have to let it go. Besides, Maarten was alive and had a family. Without proof I had nothing, other than a lingering doubt.

One of the crew shouted, “Man overboard!” Seeing what had happened, I instantly threw the engines into reverse, attempting to stop the vessel’s headway without backing over my floundering steward. As the ship shuttered from the unexpected reverse thrust of her engines, now running full speed astern and fighting the current, I watched helplessly as a large prehistoric reptile slithered into the muddy river. Instinctively he was followed by others. Within an instant they were underwater and out of sight, but I knew they were heading in our direction hoping for a tasty dinner. It took a while for me to actually stop the ship’s headway and start to back down. The bosun already had a ladder over the side and yelled to him to stop trashing around, but Henry was panicking and we all expected him to get pulled under. Henry quickly became aware of the imminent danger he was in and stopped floundering, thus allowing the current to carry him in our direction. Now with the ship stopped, we were at the mercy of the current. Henry, with fear painted on his face, would never be closer to us than now. This was the time for him to swim the last short distance, but his fear and knowing that splashing would attract the crocodiles caused him to freeze. With everyone shouting instructions it became confusing, so calculating the risk, I dove in and with just a few powerful strokes was next to Henry. The water was cool compared to the moist air and I thought it felt refreshing, but the only thing I should have been thinking about was getting the two of us out of there! Reaching out, I grabbed his already torn shirt and in what seemed less than a nanosecond towed him back to the ship. A push by me and a pull by the ship’s bosun landed the hapless steward on the deck like a fish out of water. Not wasting any time, I was up the ladder and onto the main deck in a shot. Looking back I half expected to see the huge mouth and glistening white teeth of a fearsome crocodilian. However, nothing stirred as we drifted with the current. Looking back to the now empty river bank I knew that just beneath the surface, they were in the murky water looking for us. Firing the engines up again, I turned the ship away from the bank and back on course in the channel. Handing the helm over to the Quartermaster, I went below to get changed since we would be approaching the treacherous sand bar in about a half hour.

Fighting over who paid the check was a time-honored Asian tradition, and akin to two MMA fighters in a no-holds-barred death match. It could get loud, physical, and potentially violent. There was a whole list of stratagems one learned through osmosis to employ to ensure you got to the check first. Like pretending you had to use the restroom halfway through the meal, but instead you sneak over to the waitress and hand over your credit card.

feel like I'm going to throw up, but that has more to do with this hangover I'm battling right now. But my feelings for marrying you? They haven’t changed since I asked, Gia. I loved you from the night I met you at that campus party. You were dancing with some cornball—what is it with you and cornball ass niggas—but anyway, I saw you dancing and you lit up the room. My pops would say that about my mother all the time, and I didn’t understand it until I saw you. I knew you would be my wife long before I asked you.” I dabbed at the tears pooling in my eyes. “Are you just saying this so I’ll marry you?” I replied thickly. “That was my attempt at making a joke to lighten the situation.” “The fact that you had to explain your joke explains why you always attract cornballs—you're one too.” “I am not!” “Yes, you are, but I love your corny ass. And I'mma love our corny little kids too. I love you so much that I'm willing to spend the rest of my life living in a house with a wife and kids explaining all their jokes to me,” Hasani went on over my laughs. “On a serious note: Gia, it doesn’t matter if you get all the way to the altar and change your mind when asked if you want to be my wife. I wouldn’t be mad. I want you to be as excited about forever as I am, you hear me? But don’t wait until we sign the marriage license and shit; I might have to fight you.

The neck is also a viable target. Given our understanding of diffuse axonal injury as the result of stretching forces on the axons in the brain (particularly near the base of the skull), it is reasonable to assume you could generate the same damage by applying a force on either side of the same axon. Since it appears that knockouts occur as a result of diffuse axonal injury involving the brainstem (Smith, et al., 2000), we should be able to apply our force to the neck to get a knockout as well. Of course, if you land a left hook to the chin, you get to use the head as a lever, but there are no levers for the neck, so you will have to apply more force to your strike in order to get the same result. We can see this in action in muay Thai, MMA, and kickboxing matches, where a kick to the side of the neck can cause an opponent to lose consciousness immediately. Strikes directly to the back of the head (at the base of the skull) generate the same effect, but the minimum force required is lower, possibly because there is less muscle and other tissue between the axons and the point of impact. These strikes are illegal in most styles of fighting for sport, but they are still good to know, just in case you find yourself in a life-or-death scenario with an opportunity to strike there.

Wing chun involves the concept of “wedging out” punches more often than other styles because it uses a square-shouldered stance instead of keeping the power hand back. This means any incoming strikes that happen to travel along the outside of the arms will be redirected away from the head without the need for active blocking. In muay Thai clinch fighting, you use the same wedging process to get your arms on the inside and gain control of your opponent. The “cross counter” is another example of wedging that has been used successfully in boxing and MMA. There are many variations to the technique, but the basic premise involves extending your right cross over the top of your opponent’s left jab. Since your shoulder is below your head, a successful cross counter will direct the jab down and away from your head as your fist approaches your opponent’s chin.

Wing chun involves the concept of “wedging out” punches more often than other styles because it uses a square-shouldered stance instead of keeping the power hand back. This means any incoming strikes that happen to travel along the outside of the arms will be redirected away from the head without the need for active blocking. In muay Thai clinch fighting, you use the same wedging process to get your arms on the inside and gain control of your opponent. The “cross counter” is another example of wedging that has been used successfully in boxing and MMA. There are many variations to the technique, but the basic premise involves extending your right cross over the top of your opponent’s left jab. Since your shoulder is below your head, a successful cross counter will direct the jab down and away from your head as your fist approaches your opponent’s chin. If you want a simple example to test out using a wedge at home, have a friend of similar height approach you with two arms outstretched, as if to do the Hollywood-style two-hands-on-the-windpipe choke. As he approaches you, keep your shoulders square and extend your own arms, reaching for his neck or face, while ensuring your hands are on the inside. As he gets closer, the shape of your extended arms will clear his hands away from your neck, and you will be free to put your hands in his face. Figure 4-5. Diagram of a wedge. The applied force comes in from above and is split in two separate output forces, each pushing away from the wedge.

Fighters find solace in the boxing ring.

Layla,” I scream over the buzz of the crowd. “I’m scared.” She smiles brightly back at me. “You should be.” I crane my head in question. “As hard as he fights in this ring tonight is as hard as he’ll fight for you. You should be scared for your heart, Sunni, because once Jag owns it you’re screwed, and I know he loves you.

part time since he’d joined the MMA fight circuit.

The Mariner’s Officers Club was a classy place and much the same as the one I had heard about in Cape Town. Complete with “linen service” it was about as good as it gets. The Monkey Gland Steak… Not to worry, it’s only a name; no monkeys are a part of this tangy sauce that is a delicious blend of fruit and splices. The sauce can also be used as a marinade. As far as I know it is not on the market but can be made by frying minced onions, garlic and ginger in coconut oil until the onions are translucent. Pour this over your favorite steak or hamburger for an exciting taste treat. From here we took a taxi to the Smuggler’s Inn which was in a British Colonial Style building on Point Road. Although the area that the nightclub was in was considered part of the red light district it was a popular Avant guarde area where the younger in crowd of Durban would go. With upbeat music in the days prior to rock & roll it was a lot of fun. The bottom end of Point Road Mahatma Gandhi Road at night was always a hive of activity with Smugglers leading the way as an offbeat entertainment center. Before returning to Kerstin’s flat we had the driver take us to the end of the point where we could find the newest nightclubs with strip shows, music, dancing. We even witnessed a slug fest between some guys, known as a raut. For us it was a hoot and lots of fun but I’m certain that they were black & blue for days. Kerstin told me that many of the participants of these fights could be expected to show up at Dr. Acharya’s practice the following Monday. Returning to her apartment we enjoyed the rest of the evening in bed. At six o’clock the taxi I had called was waiting curbside. I considered how lucky I was to have connected with Kerstin but I still didn’t know much about her. Why did this beautiful girl come into my life? It was a mystery without an answer!

To me, vale tudo is different from MMA because there are many more possibilities, both good and bad. Until an opportunity presents itself, one has to fight defensively, as Royce did against Dan Severn in UFC 4. Severn weighed 260 pounds and was on top of my brother for sixteen minutes before Royce caught him in a triangle choke from his back. According to today's rules, Royce could never have own that fight. The ref would have stood them up again after five minutes on the ground. MMA is a game; vale tudo is a war.

In the ring of life, remember, no one can strike you harder than life itself.

In the realm of boxing and life, the most formidable blows are dealt not by opponents in the ring but by the challenges life throws at you.

Yet there was also an unstoppable liberation seeping through her like molasses, interrupted by short heaves of panic. A faint aroma of freedom with an aftertaste of bitterness. Excitement and fear were having an MMA fight inside her ribcage as the cab sped down the highway towards the airport and into the unknown.

Watching MMA fights turns you on, doesn't it?

Here’s a pro tip for you. Almost everyone you fight will be better than you at something. If you always approach the fight from a position of honorable fighting, you’ll get creamed. In boxing, there are rules, designed to make sure the better fighter wins. Sure, the rules get broken, heads get butted, ears get bitten, but mostly boxing and MMA are rules-oriented sports. In a fight, especially a sword fight, there is no such thing as a dirty move, there’s only survival. Real fighting encourages the head-butt and the ear bite. It also smiles favorably on fingers in eyes, strikes to throats and kicks to knees. He

The plan is to never pick a fight, but the promise is to never back down from one.

Love isn't something you can turn off. When it happens, it takes a little piece of who you are. I think sometimes people keep fighting because they're more afraid to lose that piece of them, rather than lose the person they love.

Returning to New York City, Martí held a number of diplomatic positions for various Latin American countries and again wrote editorials for Spanish-language newspapers. Many considered Martí to be the greatest Latin American intellectual of the time. He published his newspaper Patria as the voice of Cuban Independence. While in the United States, he wrote several acclaimed volumes of poetry and along with other friends in exile, he spent time planning his return to Cuba. During the following year in 1892, he traveled throughout Central America, the Caribbean and the United States raising funds at various Cuban clubs. His first attempt to launch the revolution, with a few followers, was drastically underfunded and failed. However, the following year with more men and additional backing, he tried again. Although he admired and visited America in the interim, he feared that the United States would annex Cuba before his revolution could liberate the country from Spain. With small skirmishes, the Cuban War of Independence started on February 24, 1895. Marti’s plan for a second attempt at freeing Cuba included convincing Major General Máximo Gómez y Báez and Major General Antonio de la Caridad Maceo y Grajales, as well as several other revolutionary heroes of the Ten Years’ War, to join him. Together they launched a three-pronged invasion in April of 1895. With bands of exiles, they landed separately, using small boats. The main assault was on the south coast of Oriente Province, where their objective was to take and hold the higher ground. During this maneuver Martí was directed by the commanding officer General Máximo Gómez to remain with the rearguard, since he would be much more useful to the revolution alive than dead. However Martí, exercising his usual exuberance, took the lead and was instantly killed during one of the first skirmishes. Thus, he met his death on May 19, 1895, fighting regular Spanish troops at the Battle of Dos Ríos just north of Santiago de Cuba, at the relatively young age of 42.” José Martí remains revered as a hero by the people of Cuba regardless of politics!

By April 23, 2014, thirty-four cases and six deaths from Ebola in Liberia were recorded. By mid-June, 16 more people died. At the time it was thought to be malaria but when seven more people died the following month tests showed that was the Ebola virus. The primary reason for the spreading of the Ebola virus was the direct contact from one person to the next and the ingesting of bush meat. Soon doctors and nurses also became infected. On July 2, 2014, the head surgeon of Redemption Hospital was treated at the JFK Medical Center in Monrovia, where he died from the disease. His death was followed by four nurses at Phebe Hospital in Bong County. At about the same time two U.S. health care workers, Dr. Kent Brantly and a nurse were also infected with the disease. However, they were medically evacuated from Liberia to the United States for treatment where they made a full recovery. Another doctor from Uganda was not so lucky and died from the disease. Arik Air suspended all flights between Nigeria and Liberia and checkpoints were set up at all the ports and border crossings. In August of 2014, the impoverished slum area of West Point was cordoned off. Riots ensued as protesters turned violent. The looting of a clinic of its supplies, including blood-stained bed sheets and mattresses caused the military to shoot into the crowds. Still more patients became infected, causing a shortage of staff and logistics. By September there had been a total of 3,458 cases of which there were 1,830 deaths according to the World Health Organization. Hospitals and clinics could no longer handle this crisis and patients who were treated outside died before they could get help. There were cases where the bodies were just dumped into the Mesurado River. The Ivory Coast out of compassion, opened carefully restricted humanitarian routes and resumed the previously suspended flights to Liberia. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf the president of Libera sent a letter to President Barack Obama concerning the outbreak of Ebola that was on the verge of overrunning her country. The message was desperate, “I am being honest with you when I say that at this rate, we will never break the transmission chain and the virus will overwhelm us.” Having been a former finance minister and World Bank official, Johnson Sirleaf was not one for histrionics however she recognized the pandemic as extremely dangerous. The United States responded to her request and American troops came in and opened a new 60-bed clinic in the Sierra Leone town of Kenema, but by then the outbreak was described as being out of control. Still not understanding the dangerous contagious aspects of this epidemic at least eight Liberian soldiers died after contracting the disease from a single female camp follower. In spite of being a relatively poor country, Cuba is one of the most committed in deploying doctors to crisis zones. It sent more than 460 Cuban doctors and nurses to West Africa. In October Germany sent medical supplies and later that month a hundred additional U.S. troops arrived in Liberia, bringing the total to 565 to assist in the fight against the deadly disease. To understand the severity of the disease, a supply order was placed on October 15th for a 6 month supply of 80,000 body bags and 1 million protective suits. At that time it was reported that 223 health care workers had been infected with Ebola, and 103 of them had died in Liberia. Fear of the disease also slowed down the functioning of the Liberian government. President Sirleaf, had in an emergency announcement informed absent government ministers and civil service leaders to return to their duties. She fired 10 government officials, including deputy ministers in the central government who failed to return to work.

What is now Tanzania was once Tanganyika and before that part of British East Africa and prior to that a colony of Germany. During World War I the fighting actually came to the Continent of Africa. Known as the East African Campaign, many of the battles almost went unreported and are little known, however the romance of this war is portrayed by many novels and the well-known movie “African Queen,” starring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn. The film is a stretch, but strictly speaking it is based on a true story, however even saying this, neither the original novel nor the movie bears more than a passing resemblance to reality. The four years of warfare mostly fought in Europe, cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of people and affected many millions more. The campaigns, skirmishes and battles in Africa, although relatively small, cost the lives of 14 German soldiers with 34 being wounded whereas the British had a total of about 150 casualties. “In actual fact the four years of warfare from 1914 to 1918, cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of people and affected many millions more. The campaigns, skirmishes and battles although relatively small, cost the lives of 14 German troops with 34 being wounded whereas the British had a total of about 150 casualties. An example of the type of battles fought in Africa was the Battle of Bukoba. Here the British objective was the destruction of the Bukoba wireless station on the shore of Lake Victoria, it was decided that the raid should take the form of an amphibious assault by the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment and the 25th Frontier Royal Fusiliers who served in the African Theatre of war around Lake Tanganyika, British East African and German East African territory. Upon reaching the objective at Bukoba, the attackers were mistakenly landed in a large swamp and were pinned down by fierce rifle

In spite of being a relatively poor country, Cuba is one of the most committed in deploying doctors to crisis zones. It sent more than 460 Cuban doctors and nurses to West Africa. In October, Germany sent medical supplies, and later that month a hundred additional U.S. troops arrived in Liberia, bringing the total to 565 to assist in the fight against the deadly disease. To understand the severity of the disease, a supply order was placed on October 15th for a 6-month supply of 80,000 body bags and 1 million protective suits. At that time it was reported that 223 health care workers had been infected with Ebola, and 103 of them had died in Liberia.

I knew Silva loved an upkick, so I had to be wary of that, but I also really felt like jumping on that prick and wailing on him. I launched myself at him with an improvised attack that I think is unlikely to have been attempted in professional MMA before or since. I jumped up and tried to land my ass on Silva’s head, as though I was at the swimming pool and the Brazilian was the water. Randy Couture, who was doing the English commentary, called it the ‘Atomic Butt Drop’. The crowd loved it, but it had little effect and I landed on my back.

The Napoleon of Temperance” or “Father of Prohibition,” activist Neal S. Dow helped to construct the “Maine Law” of 1851, outlawing the use of alcohol for reasons other than mechanical or medicinal purposes. He was the mayor of the city when “The Portland Rum Riot” broke out, leading to the militia shooting into the crowds. One person was killed and seven wounded when the people demanded to know why there was rum stored in the City Hall. Early in the American Civil War, on November 23, 1861, former mayor Dow was commissioned as a Colonel in the 13th Maine Infantry. On April 28th of the following year, he received a commission as Brigadier General in the Union Army. His service included commanding two captured Confederate forts near New Orleans and fighting in the siege of Port Hudson, Louisiana. During this skirmish he was wounded and later captured. General Dow was traded and gained his freedom 8 months later from General William H. F. Lee, the son of Robert E. Lee. Neal S. Dow died on October 2, 1897, and was buried in the Evergreen Cemetery in Portland. His home, the Neal S. Dow house built in 1829, was used as a stop for slaves on the “Maine Underground Railway” and is located at 714 Congress Street in Portland. The historic building is now the home of the Maine Women's Christian Temperance Union.

Cape Town lived up to its name as the tavern of the seas. It was a wonderful fun place and I loved it. The weather was Mediterranean and after two weeks at sea, all the girls were beautiful. The crew was convinced that the constant sunshine, in this part of the world, had something to do with it but whatever the reason, it seemed to be true. Luckily I could get off the ship on a Saturday afternoon, when all of South Africa comes to a halt. For whatever reason South African tradition called for all the shops to close and only restaurants, bars, beer halls and other vital services remained open. For an otherwise stargy place, they got this one right. I headed for Delmonico’s on Riebeeck Street across from the famous Alhambra Theatre where everyone went to have fun. When I got there I found the place packed, but luckily I found a seat at a table, in a corner that was not quite as loud as the rest of the hall. It all started off all right while as we listened to the vivacious brunette playing a huge Hammond Organ. From the marque I knew that her name was Cherry Wainer, a celebrated musical star in South Africa. It didn’t take long for me to introduce myself to her and before I knew it she had the manager find me a seat right up in front. The amplified sound of swing music filling the hall would have been enjoyable if it wasn’t for the crew of another ship that were causing a problem. I never looked for a fight but I also never back away from one and this time was no exception. It all happened very quickly and obviously they didn't take kindly to my intervention. One of them charged and took a wild swing that just missed me. I was lucky that he missed me but I didn't as I rammed him backward, pushing his total weight onto their table. The table collapsed and the libations on it toppled, totally soaking him.

I will if you go love on my best friend. You gone stop fuckin’ with Reign. I swear I'mma fight yo’ ass the next time you piss her off." Justice and I both know that he could never beat my ass.

Ion know where your ass going, but I’mma need you to get your problem having ass off my property,” Nas’ voice came through the speaker on the door.

You sound like you meant that shit, baby. I’mma do what the fuck I want, you can either let me go over to my mom’s or I’m gone be walking around this bitch butt ass naked every day.” When she ran her tongue across my lip, I almost forgot I had a girl and sucked that bitch into my mouth. She walked away, and I was still standing there stuck.