July 10, 2006 Re. A , SEST ADVOCACY Mr, Dana White . ‘ Chairman - Ultimate Fighting Championship Zuffa, LLC 2960 W Sahara, Ste. 200 Las Vegas NV 89102 ° RE: UFC61 Dear Mr. White, On July 8, 2006, I purchased the UFC's Pay Per View: "UFC 61: Bitter Rivals.” Since noticing the UFC through Spike TV's se-ies "The Ultimate Fighter,” T have purchased and enjoyed the last several pay per view events. As Saturday evening approached, friends and I cagerly anticipated the first class sports entertainment we have become accustomed to receiving. Boy were we wrong. Frankly, I've seen more action at the Kiwanis Lodge Thursday night bingo toumament. Apparently you have either narcoleptics or pacifists putting together your cards. The last time I saw this little contact was my tightly-chaperoned junior high prom at St. Ignatius Catholic School. I should have known better to expect much from Ortiz/Shamrock, as the former mercilessly beat the latter when he was two years younger. But I thought you might know something I didn't. Nope. I got to watch one minute or so of a senior citizen being bludgeoned against a chain link fence. Thanks. I can see that for free down on Troost Boulevard anytime I choose. And then you compound the lousy matchup with premature stoppage. Not that Shamrock showed any signs of life (in that match ot the last five years of his career for that matter), but it's good to know the UFC will stop a match at the first hint of any meaningful physical contact. Bravo. But that's fine. I thought I might recoup some of my loss with the co-main event. Wrong again. Oh, I got more than a minute, but it was 25 long tedious agoniting minutes of Sylvia and Arlovsky mincing around the ring like they were allergic to human contact. I've seen tickle fights between teenage girls that result in more impact than these two primadonnas inflicted on each other. Frankly, if I were interested in watching two grown men dance around With each other for a half hour, Td go downtown to the Dixie Bell and at least get a drink with the cover charge. I hope nobody broke a nail Sa'urday night. Tm still wondering how the judges didn't just declare them both losers and promptly vacate the title. The "Maniac"? Get real. There was nothing manic about his performance whatsoever. I respectfully suggest changing his nickname to Tim "workmanlike" Sylvia. Or perhaps Tim "I fight not to lose” Sylvia. Or how about Tim "methodical and furdamentally sound yet dull as hell and desperately in need of a tanning booth and a barber” Sylvia? By the way, good luck marketing that fountain of charisma. Andre "the Pit Bull” Aclovsky appears preoccupied with being fitted for $3,000 Italian suits and designer goldJewelry. If he keeps performing like that, he needs to start shopping at The Men's Warehouse, wearing a pinkie ring, and change his name to "The Poodle.” The entire card was lame from start to finish, with possible exception of Yves Edwards who tried to show some testicular fortitude. Not one good submission. Not one good knockout. The law of averages, one would imagine, would dictate that at least one of the ‘matches on the card would not completely reek. And yet you managed to beat the odds. Outstanding. Tm not even going to whine for my $40 back. I won't even ask for you to repay ‘me my hourly rate for the three hours wasted staring in stunned disbelief at the heinous product you vomited into my family room this weekend. It's gone with the wind. What I do want back is the three hours of my life you stole from me, three precious hours I could have spent working, or with my family, or watching paint dry, or grass grow, or anything more entertaining and productive than watching that ghastly product you served up, a dish so bland and tasteless it would have been sent back to the kitchen in even the worst truck stop greasy spoon in the world. When I am lying on my deathbed watching the clock tick off the last few moments of my life in this world, I will think back to the hours you stole from me as surely as if you'd donned a mask and used a firearm, and I will curse your name with my final breath for that pilfered time. No, Mr. White, it is now incumbant upon you to make right by me. Keep the forty quid. Send Sylvia and Arlovsky over to my house to explain to me why they stunk up my television like three day-old herring. Or please present yourself so that I can subject you to three hours of similar abuse. I may force you to listen to my wife explain recent trends in interior design. Or I may prop you up in a chair Clockwork Orange style and force you to view three hours of Bamey and Friends with my children. At any rate, it will not be pleasant, Mr. White. In closing, let me echo the words my old Friend John Lydon ("Johnny Rotten") ‘once snarled to the crowd at the Sex Pistols’ last show in San Francisco, "Did you ever feel like you've just been swindled?” Ido, Sincerely