Legally it has no value as any defense lawyer whose taken part in a slander case will tell you and yet people to use it as a shield for their jackassery all the time. Guys say something stupid and when a wingman objects they throw out this line and hide behind it like it’s all good. They think by declaring “I’m just sayin,” they are absolved of all responsibility and exempt from the repercussions of their statement. This is how it plays out:

“Dude, you’re mom’s hot.”

“What?”

“I’m just sayin!”

It’s stupid, but we’re Americans. Over the years we’ve purposely created a unique vernacular in order to distance ourselves from everything British-Crickett, Rugby, bad dentistry-and the Queen’s English. We invented faggadouche, stoked, and fo shizzle my rizzle. ‘I’m just sayin’ is just the latest in a line of American colloquialisms. It’s our right as barrel chested freedom lovers to throw it around, so I will abuse it here weekly about something in MMA that needs to change or just pisses me off. It will be complete opinion-mine-as a writer on MMA for over two whole years now and author of the greatest book on the sport out there. So let’s jump right into it.

Do you remember in Spaceballs when Yogurt opens up his pro shop and shows off all the Spaceballs paraphernalia? He had Spaceballs the game, Spaceballs the toilet paper, and Spaceballs the flamethrower (the kids love that one). If you haven’t seen it, get thee to a Blockbuster now!

Randy Couture is the Spaceballs of MMA. There’s Couture the actor. Couture the razor. Couture the instructional book. Couture the clothing line. If he could pull it off there would be Couture the skyscraper, but only until Trump got wind of it and the two would face off like the Jets and the Sharks (a West Side Story reference for those who don’t know). I’m sure Geritol and Centrum Silver would line up to sponsor that fight.

Now it’s Couture the bio and Scorpion King 2 (straight to DVD), a two-pronged marketing attack that has me splashing tequila in my eyes so I don’t have to look at it and wondering when the onslaught of Sir Randall will subside. It’s not that I don’t like the guy, but I want to nickname him “R Co” because he reminds me of J Lo’s all out marketing blitz a few years back that resulted in a backlash of haters and a Ben Affleck tryst.

I salute Randy’s energy. At forty-four I expect to be a part of my couch like those guys in Pirates of the Caribbean who morphed into the Black Pearl (don’t pretend like you didn’t see it). I’ll have precious little interest in doing much more than teaching my kids the difference between a rubber guard and a butterfly guard-both of which are conveniently executed from my back so I can simultaneously hold a remote control. So he’s already surpassed my expectations for the over-forty crowd, but for God’s sake, Randy, give us a break. Get off my TV, my internet forums, the b-rate movies I secretly love, and the Adam Corolla show and get back into the one place you need a refresher tour of-the cage!