Among the many awesome powers and system utilities that come with being a blogmeister, is that of the daily referrer log.  Every day, you see, my site keeps track of all the other sites that people have come to it, via links, from over the last day.  So, for instance, if someone Googles weaselboogers, and then clicks on my site when it turns up on the list, I’ll be able to see that this happened.  This means, in practical terms, that even far above the surface of the Earth in my Zeppelin of Doom, I’m still able to see how many people are apparently looking for teacupmammoths, and how many were looking for something else (usually Dick Cheney, Wonder Woman, or monkeys) and just happened to be sucked into the roiling vortex of randomness that is this very blog.  As if this wasn’t already fun enough, I’m able to track how many people are having my site translated into Spanish (at least two, on a regular basis; which is kind of frightening, when you think about how stuff usually makes even less sense when you let Babelfish translate it for you).  What I’m getting at here is that a lot of people have searched for some pretty weird stuff online, and ended up here, but nothing could have prepared me for one that turned up on my list the day.

            I knew that something was afoot immediately, based on the fact that the page they were coming from was, as best I was able to tell, the Chinese version of Google.  This was interesting enough, since I figured that teacupmammoths would probably be one of those subversively capitalist sites that the Chinese government has banned.  I guess not though, so I’ll have to be more ardently anti-communist in the future (be sure to tune in next week when I take a look at recent allegations that Gorbachev eats puppies).  The thing that really weirded me out though, was what they were searching for, “Foxy Boxing Martian Style.”  Really.  At first, I was worried that this was some kind of horribly freaky underground indie Chinese thing, but since according to the search, I’m the internet’s number one site regarding it, I can only assume that whatever it is, it’s at least wholesome enough to write a blog about without worrying about generating tons of e-hatemail from Foxy Boxing Enthusiasts and Martian Enthusiasts like I did that time I wrote about Worf trying out for the J.V. girls’ field hockey team.

            Which brings us back to the real mystery here:  What on Earth is Foxy Boxing Martian Style?  I mean, the Foxy Boxing part is simple enough, it’s that sport (according the veritable font of wisdom Homer Simpson) where chicks whale on each other (also known as tennis).  The Martian Style part is a bit more difficult to fathom, so I’m just gonna break it down logically, and hope I end up with something ridiculous.  So then, let’s first assume that Martian here refers to the planet Mars, rather than Mars, Pennsylvania, where all they have is that green guy who got struck by lightening and a chocolate factory (unless of course, we decide that this is some new sport where women beat each other up at a chocolate factory, which would just be weird, and potentially hot).

            Now, on Mars the planet, they really only have three things, junk that we’ve sent up there to take pictures, that big stone face that looks like Senator (and plus-size evening gown model) Ted Kennedy, and J’onn J’onzz, the Martian Manhunter.  Clearly, this can’t be about all those little solar-powered land rovers up there, because there’d be absolutely no challenge in watching some woman beat the tar out of one of those.  Maybe if we’d sent more of those battlebots up there, armed with like, chainsaws, and flame throwers, and maybe some kind of an angry badger on a bungee cord or something, this might be worth thinking about, but alas, NASA just sent up these little go karts with cameras and astronaut ice cream.  And it’s probably not the case that the giant stone Ted Kennedy face is concerned here either, since it appears that whatever ancient civilization built this monument to the Senator vanished countless aeons ago, or at least back in the 80s.

            Which leaves us, of course, with the Martian Manhunter, who at first glance, might not seem like a likely candidate for boxy boxing stardom.  But think again, cause he’s already freaky looking (which is a definite help when you’re a boxer; just look at King Hippo and Piston Honda), he already has his own battle-ready superhero underwear (and really, I think most of us can agree that if only we all had a few more pairs of that, we’d all being out getting beat up for fun and profit on a daily basis already), and, since he’s a shape shifter, he could probably pass himself off as a girl long enough to get registered for a match in the ring.  Also, much like most boxers, he’s weak against fire.  No, really, I mean, George Foreman is weak against fire, that’s why he made those grills so not-fiery and stuff.  Add to this the fact that he never really liked humanity all that much because we smell funny and wear hats, and it doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to see why he’d want to go all Ike and Tina on some girl in an epic battle of beatitude.  And ladies, if you were thinking of making a little extra money on the side, don’t, because the next girl you fight could actually be a seven foot tall Martian with all sorts of issues.