MudQueens in the Hood...

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(Digital Download's of these pictures are available for purchase.

50% of the net on these sales will go to the MudQueens's favorite charities.)

What an odd evening. The weather, which had a chill bite just the evening before, had warmed, warmed to the point where all the women wearing miniskirts, halter tops and other assorted non-clothing were totally comfy. 

There was nary a goose-bump in sight.

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I don't know how often – if ever - the MudQueens wrestle out of doors. The only other time I had ever seen them was at a rock/punk type club called Reggies on South State. And they seemed to enjoy the hell out of that. If facial expressions are a good indicator, you would be hard-pressed to find any group of performers of any type that enjoy plying their trades as much.

My guess is that dental floss sales spike on before those shows – it must take a load of wax coating to drag the goop out of a mouth that went smile first through a good foot and a half of muck.

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Presumably, my attraction to mud wrasslin' is the same that most men have – we are stoopid, horny brutes who are more than eager to drop an hour's wage on a door charge and $4 a PBR just for the chance to glimpse a “wardrobe malfunction” on any good looking girl who's coated a ¼ inch deep in a form-fitting veneer of mud.

We are positively moronic in such cases.

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But tonight is not a paid event. Tonight is a free bout, in the hood – and a rather nice hood at that. The backyard patio has the mud ring set up in it. Crowding around it, as well as stopping in the alley and hanging over the neighboring fences are patrons. They've come via Facebook postings and mailing lists, friendly invites or just because they happened to be passing by the alley and opted to stay.

Exploiting our hormonal gullibility is the beauty of what might be termed the MudQueens' business model. While it's true the ladies do this for fun, they have also taken it up a level by doing it for charity. A part of the proceeds from every vended bout goes to two charities in Chicago – the Young Women's Empowerment Project and the Chicago Women's Health Center.

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And how many men would donate to those if mud, struggle and the hope of flesh were not somewhere in the equation?

Let's face it, where simple charity fails, hormonally charged philanthropy prevails.