Why do MMA fighters have to basically starve themselves before fights?

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2022.01.17 22:50 SIK1415 Why do MMA fighters have to basically starve themselves before fights?

I’ve recently been watching a lot of UFC on YouTube and I’ve noticed that a lot of fighters in the lower weight divisions have to lose a lot of weight before fights, to the point where it gets dangerous for some of them.
Surely that can’t be healthy.
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2022.01.17 22:50 Tight-Pack7819 How to unlock the forbidden dungeon?

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2022.01.17 22:50 Anxious-Throwaway3 How to get more experience or move up from being a Tier 1?

I started working as a part-time associate at a sortation center almost two weeks ago. I'm also currently a full-time college student doing a double major to get my BBA in Logistics & Supply Chain Management / Information Systems (already have my AA in Business Admin). I'd like to make the most of my time while I'm at Amazon so I'm interested in eventually maybe moving up a bit. Thing is, I heard you need to be full-time to move up from being a Tier 1. Not sure how I'll do that since I'm in school full-time. Another thing is that at my sortation center there only seems to be part-time positions. I think the only full-time positions are Tier 3+. So how would that work?
There's also a delivery station a few blocks away from my sortation center, I'm thinking maybe I can transfer there in the future to get more familiarized with the entire process, though not sure if that'd be worth it. Are there any part-time positions above a Tier 1 or anything else I can do that gives me more experience more directly related to my studies?
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2022.01.17 22:50 VK_Ratliff Faulkner vs. Charles Bukowski

In this month’s epic semifinal showdown, the wiley super-wino Charles “The Battlin’ Barfly” Bukowski challenges the cast-iron liver of refined rummy William “The Souse From the South” Faulkner.
Table Side Announcers: Howard Cosell and Sir Laurence Olivier Ref: Bill “The Fox” Foster
Tale of the Tab:
Bukowski His is a Cinderella story — late in life he fought his way up from the the tough skid row bars of L.A. to seize international recognition as one of the finest hoochhounds of his generation. He couldn’t afford the best drinks to train with, but he did well with what he could beg, borrow and steal. There isn’t a thirstier fighter in the tournament. His only weakness is his glass stomach: while he can hold his own with the best, he has the proclivity to vomit at any particular moment.
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Faulkner Though slight in build, the southern scribe’s capacity for hooch is the stuff of legend. An accomplished master of the month-long bender, his genteel appearance belies his taste for corn liquor and high proof rotgut. The descendent of a very long and illustrious line of drunkards, he is born and bred to the art like a bird dog.
The Build Up Howard Cosell: What a contrast: the Southern Dandy Vs. the Southern California Wino. Laurence Olivier: If he sticks to form, we can expect Faulkner to try to rattle Bukowski early with a moonshine flurry. HC: And Bukowski will undoubtedly counter-punch with a selection of fortified wines, in hopes of offending Faulkner’s palate.
(Faulkner wins the coin toss.)
Round One Faulkner orders fruit jars of moonshine. HC: True to form. LO: Which makes him predictable. I wonder if Bukowski has worked up a strategy to take advantage of Faulkner’s patterns. HC: They both have a civilized sip from their jars. I was watching Buk’s face for effect, but if the high-octane corn liquor fazed him, he hides it well. LO: Just look at the two of them. If they were just two chaps sitting in a bar, you’d bet your last penny on Bukowski. HC: Faulkner certainly doesn’t look the part of a hard pounder. And he has used that deceptive appearance to great advantage in his previous bouts.. When it comes to drinking contests, not taking your opponents seriously can be very dangerous. LO: As Babe Ruth and Humphrey Bogart discovered.
Round Two Bukowski orders forties of Schlitz Malt Liquor HC: Well, it ain’t Thunderbird, but it ain’t Dom Perignon either. LO: Bukowski lifts the forty to his mouth and puts on a ghost of a smile as Faulkner searches for the glass that isn’t there. HC: Faulkner has a taste. He doesn’t seem to think too much of it. LO: “Reminds me of sitting on my porch in North Carolina,” Faulkner drawls. “Drinking with my dog. Smells like it too.” HC: Bukowski laughs a little. “Ah swear to do betta, suh,” he says, mocking Faulkner’s southern drawl. “I’m going to hold you to that, sir,” Faulkner replies, ignoring or not taking notice of Buk’s mockery. LO: “I do miss my hound,” Faulkner continues. “Man’s best friend.” HC: “No,” Bukowski replies. “This is man’s best friend.” And with that he drains his forty. LO: Faulkner plays catch up. He knocks down half on the five count, takes a breath, then puts down the rest on the nine. It’s amazing to watch him drink. It’s like watching a tiny sponge absorb a lake.
Round Three Faulkner orders fruit jars of moonshine LO: “Nothing like a little corn liquor to clear the palate,” says Faulkner. HC: “If it’s all you got,” Bukowski replies and has a good pull. I don’t think he minds the moonshine too much. LO: Oh, he’s drank much worse, I assure you.
Round Four Bukowski orders forties of Colt 45 Malt Liquor LO: Faulkner has a taste and says, “You swore to do better, sir!” HC: “Aah forgot,” Bukowski replies, laughing. He’s having a good time with Faulkner. LO: He’s always enjoyed needling rich people. Even after he became rich. HC: “Hold the bottle by the neck,” Buk tells Faulkner. “That way it won’t get warm.” LO: That was rather sporting of Buk. HC: “I’ll let it get warm in my belly,” Faulkner dryly retorts, chugging the bottle. LO: Without taking a breath, Bukowski tips his down.
Rounds Five through Twelve Faulkner orders four rounds of moonshine, Bukowski orders three rounds of Country Club Malt Liquor forties HC: “Does this stuff ever get better?” Bukowski asks, taking a bite out of his corn liquor. LO: “I will continue ordering corn so long as you continue ordering crap,” Faulkner informs Bukowski. HC: “But that’s Country Club Malt Liquor,” Buk says. “The forty of kings and presidents.” LO: “I would never trust such a president,” Faulkner swears. “He could drink vodka from the Kremlin’s own liquor cabinet and I’d trust him more.” LO: “The Russians are our friends now,” Buk informs. HC: “I suspected you a communist, sir,” Faulkner exclaims. “Now I am certain.” And with that he finishes his moonshine. LO: “Nazdarovye!” Bukowski says, saluting with his jar, then knocking it back.
Rounds Thirteen through Eighteen Bukowski orders three rounds of Kremlin Vodka on the rocks; Faulkner orders three rounds of double Elijah Craig Kentucky Bourbon, neat HC: This drinking contest, somehow, has become political. LO: Which is ironic, because Bukowski is completely apolitical. If anything, I would say he leans toward existentialism. I believe Faulkner just likes to be offended. HC: And Bukowski is happy to help. “I never liked your writing,” he flatly informs Faulkner, apropos of nothing. LO: “I haven’t had the pleasure of reading your books, sir,” Faulkner quickly replies. “But I understand you have a great following among the illiterate.” HC: “If my fans were illiterate,” Bukowski replies, a little defensively, “they wouldn’t be able to read my books, now would they?” LO: “Some people have all the luck,” Faulkner replies, finishing his bourbon. HC: Buk smiles, but it looks forced. He sinks his bourbon on the eight count and when the glass comes down the smile is gone.
Round Nineteen Bukowski orders double shots of well tequila LO: Ah! Bukowski has studied Faulkner’s previous matches. Humphrey Bogart used tequila to great effect against Faulkner. HC: Buk would spend hours pouring over racing forms before he’d go to the track; it’s no surprise he’s studied Faulkner’s bouts with Bogart and Ruth. LO: “You god awful whore,” Faulkner says to his shot. “You harlot from the deepest depths of Hades.” HC: “Oh, you’ve met?” Bukowski laughs, downing his shot. With a face twisted up like a prune, Faulkner follows.
Round Twenty Faulkner orders very wet Gordon’s Gin martinis LO: It would appear Faulkner didn’t neglect his homework either. HC: Yes. It was Richard Burton who exposed Bukowski’s distaste for vermouth. LO: And with that knowledge Burton very nearly knocked Buk out of the tournament. HC: “I always wondered how vermouth makes gin, a liquid, more wet,” Faulkner wonders. “Have you ever wondered about that, Charles?” LO: “We don’t muse over martinis where I come from,” Buk replies, squinching his nose as he has his first taste. “We wonder about how we’re going to pay rent.” HC: “Once you master the martini,” Faulkner quips, “the rent takes care of itself.” LO: “That sounds like something from one of your books,” Bukowski says. “It sounds like bullshit.” With that, he forces down the cocktail. He apparently believes in the old adage, “Drink the good slow and the bad fast.”
Round Twenty-One Bukowski orders double shots of Monte Alban Mezcal LO: Faulkner sniffs his shot and exclaims, “Who would have guessed that loathsome harlot had an even uglier sister?” HC: “Treat the lady with respect,” Bukowski say. “She’s an old friend of mine.” LO: “If this liquor were a lady,” Faulkner drawls, “I’d slap her across the face and make her take a bath.” HC: “If mezcal were a lady,” Bukowski replies, “she’d kick your ass all the way back to North Carolina.” Bukowski sinks his double and Faulkner finishes his on the second try.
Round Twenty-Two Faulkner orders extremely wet Gordon’s Gin martinis HC: Faulkner cranks up the vermouth attack. He takes a sip of his martini while Bukowski broods over his. LO: It’s a terrible thing when your weaknesses are made public, especially when there’s a contest involved. I have to say, of the two, Buk seems to be flagging the most. HC: Neither of them look very good. Faulkner is slurring like a town drunk and Bukowski looks as if a slight breeze would knock him over. LO: “You’ll never master that drink unless you drink it,” Faulkner slurs. HC: “Fuck you!” Buk shouts. “I’m going to drink this sonuvabitch, and if you order another one, I’ll crack your skull open!” LO: Faulkner smiles. He knows if Buk lays a hand on him he’ll be disqualified. Faulkner finishes his martini then very nearly drops the glass. Bukowski takes a deep breath and takes a drink. He gets about halfway through it on the three count. Four. Five. HC: He forces another swallow and shakes his head with violent disgust. The vermouth is killing him. LO: Seven! This could be it! HC: He jerks the glass to his lips one last time on the nine count and — just manages to get it all down. He smashes his glass against the floor. He could vomit at any second. LO: Faulkner watches him blurrily, smiling. He believes he has it in the bag. And so do I.
Round Twenty-Three Bukowski orders double shots of Monte Alban Mezcal LO: This may be be Buk’s last chance. HC: And they both seem to know it. Both men, their heads hanging over the tabletop, clutch their shot glasses like horribly wounded gunfighters waiting for the other to draw. LO: How is Buk going to play this? I can tell he doesn’t want to shoot the mezcal. It wasn’t his favorite drink. HC: But downing it quickly might be his only chance to win the day. LO: “Well,” Faulkner mumbles. “Let’s cross this river of urine and get to that next martini, shall we?” HC: And it’s Faulkner who draws first, taking down half his shot on his first attempt. LO: Bukowski looks heartbroken. He picks up his glass and makes a heroic attempt to shoot the double, almost spits up, then gets it down. He slaps the glass on the table and snarls, “Remember what I told you, little man!” HC: With half the mezcal already sunk, Faulkner takes his time, laying down the second half on the eight count.
Round Twenty-Four Faulkner orders double shots of Martini and Rossi Sweet Vermouth LO: Double vermouths. The killing stroke. HC: Well, they’re technically not martinis, so will Buk follow through with his threat? LO: He doesn’t look like he’s in any condition to crack an egg, never mind Faulkner’s skull. His head is practically on the table. He’s done. All Faulkner has to do is deliver the coup de grace. HC: Grinning like an imbecile from one his books, Faulkner takes his glass in both hands and knocks it back. He sets the glass down very carefully and starts fumbling for his pipe and tobacco. It’s a good thing for him that Buk is fading, because Faulkner isn’t far behind. LO: Bukowski lowers his forehead to the table. What is that noise? Is he crying? Bukowski is crying! HC: Six! Seven! He raises his head up and no — he’s laughing. He scoops up the shot on the nine count and downs it like a kid drinking Kool Aid. LO: Bukowski jumps to his feet, towering over a startled Faulkner. HC: “You idiot!” Bukowski roars. “I’ve been drinking this shit by the bottle since my match with Burton! I love this shit! I can drink it by the gallon! I fooled you, little man!” LO: Faulkner’s pipe drops out of his mouth. He is shattered! He thought he was teetering on the threshold of victory and now he’s looking at Brer Rabbit howling at him from the briar patch! HC: “Now bring us double mezcals!” Bukowski roars. “No, make them triples! That lady is going to kick your ass yet!” LO: It’s too much for Faulkner. He’s quaking like a broken machine! And down he goes! He is literally under the table, curled up in a tight ball! Bukowski wins! It’s Bukowski and Gleason in the finals!
Bukowski wins by PO.
Post Fight Interview Bukowski: “I bluffed him. I hate vermouth. If he could have held on for another ten seconds I would have puked all over him, then kicked his ass.” Faulkner: “As a gentleman, I give my solemn word that I shall never drink that rotten booze again. Except for corn liquor and sipping whiskey, I shall never again touch the stuff.”
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2022.01.17 22:50 DabGod69420 Finally did it! After 233 hours, I got all 292 achievements on Steam. Time for a break from KF2 until the updates.

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2022.01.17 22:50 DERANGEDcitiZen My Xbox 360E turns on but immediately switches to red and fans go berserk

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2022.01.17 22:50 BsaciallyBasic What are some great go to questions for conversations?

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2022.01.17 22:50 StopItYouHipsters The grass is greener.

I recently posted on here. I work in IT and I have been at my absolute limit. I have a position in IT where I work very closely and got to know some things. This is not the company I started working for so long ago. They’ve completely lost their core values. Someone on here encouraged me to find another company, I finally took the chance. The day I opened up my LinkedIn to accepting job offers/recruitment I was flooded with people asking for an interview and my resume. I found an amazing company within 2 weeks who offered me 25k more a year than I am making at Geico. I’m finally being paid the industry standard for my position. I even got way better benefits, and they had no problem with me continuing to WFH full time. With where I was and how long I had been with GEICO, if I can leave so can you.
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