Is the Ice melting?

It is twenty five minutes until showtime. It's a fucking recession, and I told myself that the UFC, which is dangling us all by the proverbial ankles and shaking out whatever meager pennies remain in our pockets, is not going to get me this time. Franklin as a last minute stand-in for a Tito Ortiz who seems to be headed for the ol' self-destructive tear so popular with modern athletes (think Tyson, Rodman, etc.). "Really" I told myself, "who GIVES a shit?"

Evidently I do. Those greedy bastards have got me again, like a crack dealer waving some primo rock in an addict's face precisely at the moment he has decided to fly straight.

So, with fifteen minutes left, I give you my prediction. I am going with Franklin. The followers of my blog (which may consist of a crazy uncle and my buddy who may or may not interrupt his porn surfing long enough to log in) may ask why.

The answer is I believe that, while an Iceman in his prime would have eaten Franklin for breakfast and farted out hair gel fumes, suffering the types knockouts which have befallen him in the most recent part of his career may have taken that narrowest of margins-which are often the difference between a champion and a challenger-away from him. Brains don't heal, and I think Franklin is a sound enough strategist to pull this one out. Of course, Chuck still has those sledgehammers, and a solid connect can always re-establish his credibility, but I am leaning toward Franklin in a decision or a late knockout. Peace.