JONATHAN SEITZ

Tackling the issues

JONATHAN SEITZ — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 23:32:44 GMT

Brutally funny
When Sarah Palin’s interviews with Katie Couric first aired, people rushed to defend or condemn her. But one man opted for the blitz package instead.

Funny fundraiser

JONATHAN SEITZ — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 17:11:38 GMT

Hip cash for Kansas rep
The term “Internet famous” brings a few things to mind.

THIS IS THE INTERNET Facing steep odds against an entrenched incumbent, Kansas state
representative candidate Sean Tevis took to the Web and raised nearly $100,000 through a
comic strip mashing “xkcd” and 300.

The term “Internet famous” brings a few things to mind: nerdy guys caught doing nerdy things, vitriol-fueled bloggers typing away in their basements, Tila Tequila — in other words, people who are more infamous than famous, and usually pretty broke.

If he does nothing else this summer, Sean Tevis should change that stereotype. The 39-year-old information architect from Olathe, Kansas, became an Internet celebrity this July when he put up a comic strip soliciting donations for his state-rep campaign. Within two weeks, he had raised close to $100,000.

What kind of comic could inspire such widespread generosity? Well, it’s done in the style of the popular Web strip “xkcd,” features a verbal Rick Roll (check Wikipedia if you’re not in the loop), and contains a lot of references to the movie 300. (See for yourself at seantevis.com/kansas/3000/running-for-office-xkcd-style.)

Call it Revenge of the Nerds for a new age.

Tevis, a first-time Democratic candidate, was just trying to raise $26,000 to run a competitive campaign against Sunflower State incumbent Arlen Siegfreid. He figured that he could probably find 3000 people who agreed with him that would be willing to donate $8.34, but he reached that goal within two days. In fact, as of his July 28 campaign contribution filings — the most recent figures available — Tevis had collected the relatively astronomical sum of $96,512.76, to fight an opponent who has raised roughly a sixth of that amount.

According to his filings, $70,000 of his donations were less than $50, but plenty gave more than that. Most of the biggest spenders appeared to be, like Tevis, employed in the technology sector, including a couple of them here in Massachusetts.

“It wasn’t so much his positions . . . but more of the fact that he was a computer geek who decided to get up and actually inflict some change in his surroundings,” wrote John Resig, a computer programmer from Somerville, in an e-mail. He found out about Tevis through the news-aggregating Web site reddit.com, and donated $120.88 to the campaign.

Tevis, who was not available to comment for this article, has been pushing a progressive agenda, calling for reform of the schools in Kansas — perhaps saying goodbye to the Flying Spaghetti Monster — and bringing more transparency to the government. Even with a war chest like his, fighting against an entrenched incumbent is never easy, and Tevis faces an uphill battle. Still, his fans are hopeful.

Fight club

JONATHAN SEITZ — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 18:03:28 GMT

Why Bostonians can’t get their smackdown fix
It’s Saturday night and I’m looking for a fight.

Quentin "Rampage" Jackson

It’s Saturday night and I’m looking for a fight. More specifically, I’m looking for the UFC86 pay-per-view, a July 5 Mixed Martial Arts showdown between light-heavyweight champion Quentin “Rampage” Jackson and up-and-comer Forrest Griffin, but it doesn’t seem to be on anywhere. What’s it take to see someone get their ass kicked around here?

The UFC will occasionally broadcast one of its fights on cable — usually on Spike — but most of its live fights are offered exclusively on PPV. While you can purchase those fights from your cable or satellite service for about $45, bars offer an opportunity to see the action at a cheaper price ($5–10 covers are the norm), as well as a group experience that you don’t get with your couch and a bag of Doritos.

For a time, UFC PPV events were shown regularly at Hooters in Boston and at the Good Time Emporium in Somerville. Unfortunately for MMA fans (as well as admirers of skimpy orange short shorts), the Hooters went of business this past year, while the Good Time Emporium’s lease ran out at the end of June. Some bars, like the Sports Depot in Allston, do still occasionally host fights for a $5 cover, but of the scant five locations in Massachusetts that showed UFC86 (according to a list on the UFC Web site), the closest one to Boston was in Malden.

Unlike residential PPV sales, a bar wishing to broadcast a UFC production must deal with Joe Hand Promotions, which handles all commercial UFC sales in the US. A contract with Joe Hand, which provides the right to show the fight as well as materials to promote it, ranges anywhere from around $1000 for most bars, to upward of $10,000 for casinos and other large establishments. Most charge a cover to make up the cost, but even then, some can’t handle that kind of up-front commitment for a fight that takes place on a Saturday.

The fights tend to sell better in suburban areas, rather than in big cities, says Hand. “People aren’t going to sit in a bar [on a Saturday] to watch a sporting event. It’s more of a date night, or a movie night.”

That makes sense. At the Dockside, located near the end of the Orange Line in Malden, UFC events are shown monthly and the crowds have always come out, says manager Larry Dennehy. Even on the barbecue-and-road-trip-heavy Fourth of July weekend, UFC86 actually had the Dockside filled almost to capacity.

Judgment night for Doomsday

JONATHAN SEITZ — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 21:31:27 GMT

Roxbury-born fighter John Howard is climbing the ranks of mixed martial arts, one chokehold at a time
Two men circle the middle of a 24-foot-wide, black chain-link cage in Allston’s Wai Kru gym.

Gimme some truth: In praise of Ultimate Fighting. By James Parker.

Two men circle the middle of a 24-foot-wide, black chain-link cage in Allston’s Wai Kru gym. One is holding up a set of pads, while the other attacks him from every possible angle, not just pounding punches, but also kicking with his feet, jabbing with his knees, throwing his elbows. The attacker is named Doomsday, and though he is unleashing a furious assault, his face remains a luchador’s mask of serenity.

Sure, it’s just a twilight training session — Doomsday’s second of the day in his grueling regimen — but the good-looking grappler is such a dynamic force that even a workout commands attention from onlookers. John Allan, Doomsday’s manager and trainer, as well as the owner of the gym, prowls around the two combatants like a free-floating electron. Every few seconds he screams out a direction — “High knees!”; “Punches!”; “Sprawl!” — and Doomsday follows, sending a staccato series of slaps, pops, and slams that reverberate off the low ceilings of the gym and die only when they hit the wrestling mats on the floor. There are a dozen or so people in the gym for a wrestling class, but all their eyes are on Doomsday.

After two and a half rounds of training, the fighters leave the cage. Allan straps a tow rope to his charge’s waist and hands the other end to the sparring partner, who tries to hold the fighter back as he lumbers across the mats. “Still fighting, still fighting, still fighting . . .” chants Doomsday, barely audible from exhaustion. He finishes his last rep and crashes to the floor. For a few minutes, he lays motionless, breathing hard, drenched in sweat.

Then he gets up for more.

John “Doomsday” Howard is a 25-year-old Boston-born Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) fighter. During his four-year career, he has accumulated a 9-3 record, with his two most recent wins coming after he dropped from 185 pounds to the 170-pound welterweight class. One of those fights was a trial for the International Fight League, which he won in dramatic fashion. His next challenge, a fight for the Ring of Combat welterweight title, takes place this week, on June 27, in Atlantic City. While MMA is bogged down by the confusing number of competing organizations that govern it, Doomsday remains Boston’s brightest hope in a brutal sport that, of late, has earned unprecedented levels of attention.