Well that fuckin took long.
The dumbest and most insanely self-destructive athlete since Aaron Hernandez—which is the one title even he can never win—now has a name: Jon Bones Jones.
What an absolute fuckface. This incomprehensibly immeasurable anal cavity has officially ruined his once-untouchable career. That’s it. It’s done. Show’s over. Nothing more to see here…
As disgusted fans are well aware of by now, Bones’ kryptonite, drug tests, have struck again. This time it wasn’t something harmless like coke or bath salts either. It was the big one. ‘Roids. And I don’t mean of the “hem” variety. Now the stupid bastard is facing a possible four-year suspension at thirty years old, not to mention an utterly destroyed legacy, and I can’t fuckin abide by this any more. Fuck Bones. He’s one of my all-time favorite fighters but enough is enough. Ronda might have gotten her can (not to mention her dome) severely kicked, but at least she took her whuppings fair and square. After being one of the most outspoken critics against fighters that fail for PEDs, now that the facts have come out, Bones doesn’t have a leg to shoot on. And I’m not talking for a takedown either.
Rumors that had been swirling for years in MMA circles went mainstream after Jones got popped for PEDs before the Cormier re-match last summer, but before his OSP fight this past spring. Damn that’s a lot of initials. Anyway, suddenly this old story re-surfaced about an unannounced impromptu drug test at Jones’ gym resulting in his hiding under the octagon for like six hours until the pee police left, presumably on another similarly urine-soaked adventure. Then his two toughest opponents Cormier and Alexander Gustafsson came out saying they wholeheartedly believed Jones had been juicing up like Bane his entire career. The appropriately nicknamed “Bones” made suspicious claims about a tainted, off-brand dick pill being responsible for his failing the drug test last summer, but even his biggest supporters can now see how fucked that story was from the beginning.
And not only did Jones pull a complete fuckin Lance Armstrong with that phony bootleg dick pill explanation, his much-lauded and self-congratulatory speech after illegally knocking a drug-free Cormier unconscious now seems sociopathic. He actually had the fuckin gall to tearfully pat himself on the back, saying, “I did a lot of right things to get back to this point.” Like what, sprinkle steroids on your Wheaties every morning? Unlike most people who commented on the fight, I wasn’t super-impressed with Bones’ humble post-fight charade or the over-the-top praise of his fallen foe. I was more concerned with what time would tell us about how much the arrogant scum bucket had actually changed his ways. And we’ve certainly found that out in record fuckin time.
And he wasn’t even doing top-of-the-line quality crap either. With his money and two brothers in the steroid factory known as the NFL, you would think Bones would be pumping only the finest of designer ‘roids into his system. The Cristal of PEDs. But no. The fuckin fool got popped for some shit nobody can pronounce that used to give East German broads mutton chops for the Olympics in the 60’s and 70’s. It’s a dirty, old school, black market, illegal steroid, and it sucks to boot. Can you imagine? What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Is he determined to wreck his career in the dumbest way possible? Mission fuckin accomplished.
Because it’s the black market aspect of this particular steroid where said dumbness lies—almost as much as Jones himself. The big advantage of the drug, other than to pursue a career as a bearded lady, is that it leaves your system in mere hours. It’s popular amongst power lifters, who are not exactly renowned for the size of the muscles between their ears, and who often compete in so-called “untested” leagues, which are in reality less ethical than the Island of Dr. Moreau.
But the UFC has now implemented the most stringent PED testing in sports, and since this steroid is obtained almost exclusively on the black market, recipients never really know what they’re getting. Pure “mutton chop juice” supposedly flies out of your system faster than Taco Bell, and is untraceable. Mutton chop juice cut with other crap however, lingers in your system and is therefore detectable. For meatheads that rather large distinction might not matter, but for fighters it’s the difference between the life and death of a career. Speaking of life and death, I bet right now there’s a terrified steroids dealer catching the first plane out of the country before a rather perturbed, newly former light heavyweight champion comes a-knocking.
So now the unquestionably greatest fighter of all time, a guy who would already be heavyweight champ too if not for previous episodes of career attempted suicide (were they cries for help?), has now had his career essentially ended in one giant, shameful disgrace. Maybe not though since Bones randomly called out Brock Lesnar last month, because a failed PED test obviously won’t matter one iota to the Vanilla Gorilla. They can even have a special ladder match at Wrestlemania where instead of a belt, there’s a ‘roids-filled syringe dangling from the ceiling.
As sad as this likely final chapter is for Jones’ career, one never knows for sure since MMA is anything but predictable. If anyone said two years ago that by now, both Bones and Ronda would basically be retired and Conor would be boxing Floyd for a hundred million potatoes, they’d be hauled off to the crazy house in big butterfly nets.
Ahh, the fight game. Nothing quite like it.