"I was never going to do that," he admits later with a grin, and yes, he grins.
He also listens to UFC President Dana White, who gets into his cauliflower ear after Lesnar threatens to leave, Lesnar retaking his place at the table.
"I just had to humor myself somehow," the brute says.
It's a public act, all right, and a good one—the flat top and line of "Death Clutch" clothes he's selling are nice menacing touches—with reporter after reporter buying it and saying how they dislike him. They don't know him, and his choice, they never will.