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15 December 2017

The War On Coffee and Common Sense, Or More Reasons Why We Should Start Gutting Vegetarians And Vegans


Few people in the world combine a marked distaste for evolutionary science, crippled intellects, shoddy understanding of the human body, stupid religious beliefs of which they're likely unaware, and the kind of unlikeability that would make a sleepover with Rosanne, Martin Short, and Gilbert Gottfried seem like more fun than a barrel full of monkeys like vegetarians and vegans do.  Frankly, thinking people should be avoiding vegetarians and vegans with the same assiduousness that we did leprosy or cholera years ago, but for some reason we allow them to bleat their insipid beliefs in public in spite of the fact we'd hang a beating on creationists for doing the same.  Preachy in ways you'd think only big tent revivalist preachers could be, steadfast in their total unwillingness to consider things like science or reason, and displaying the kind of smugness you only see out of shit comedians who think they're far funnier than they are, like that unfuckable bag of anti-hilarity Whitney Cummings, vegans and vegetarians ought to be exterminated with prejudice, yet we fail to do so for unknowable reasons.



That time should now be at an end, because those limp-dicked, quinoa-nibbling fucktards are the reason why coffee was considered unhealthy for the better part of 100 years, and their virulent campaign of disinformation persists even today.  So when you're standing in line to get your espresso behind some manbun-bearing dipshit in vegan, fair trade, "thrifted" clothing, kick him in the fucking spine and tell him to go stink of fucking patchouli elsewhere, because it was his kind of inescapably annoying dipshit who fucked up the coffee industry throughout the 20th century and campaigned hard to drive that delicious, caffeine-bearing elixir out of existence.


Get fucked, you broccoli-eating bitches.  Might as well say "Contains nothing useful."

"Not so!", you say?  Yeah, fucking so.  Prior to the insipid meddling of those twig-gnawing ruminant fucks in the early 20th Century, coffee was seen for what it is- a healthy liquid repast designed to uplift the consumer and improve their mood and day.  The unrelentingly psychotic anti-sex progenitors of the modern vegetarian movement, otherwise known as Seventh Day Adventists (who should be drawn and fucking quartered should you ever encounter one), decided that they should save us all from the evils of orgasms, heavy musculature, meat-consumption, chocolate, coffee, aggressiveness, winning, pride, badassery, and basically everything that has made humanity the dominant species on the planet. 

 From the descriptions of how they'd punish their kids for touching themselves, Infernal Restraints isn't too far off.

In the place of all that, these sanctimonious sacks of rancid monkey shit decided to foist breakfast cereal, graham crackers, and Postum on the world, while they resorted to putting children into bondage or chastity to keep them from masturbating to whatever the laughable version of Infernal Restraints was back then.  With girls they actually took that a step further, and would rub carbolic acid on their clits.  That's right, in John Harvey Kellogg (inventor of Corn Flakes, actually recommended in his hilariously psychotic book, Plain Facts for Old and Young:
"In females, the author has found the application of pure carbolic acid to the clitoris an excellent means of allaying the abnormal excitement, and preventing the recurrence of the practice in those whose will-power has become so weakened that the patient is unable to exercise entire self-control (296).


And when these shit-sipping frittatas weren't torturing their children, they were running around slapping hamburgers out of strangers' hands and dumping their coffee in the gutter.  Kellogg was obsessed with the control of diet and we have him to blame for the invention of breakfast cereal, which basically ruined breakfast until champion propagandist Eddie Bernays replaced with bacon and eggs.  Though reading this shit now makes you think the man should have died penniless in the gutter wearing a tinfoil hat, people actually took what said to heart.  So when he would write this insane dogshit, it stuck with people:
"3. Discard all stimulating food. Under this head must be included spices, pepper, ginger, mustard, cinnamon, cloves, essences, all condiments, pickles, etc., together with flesh food in any but moderate quantities. It is hardly to be expected that all who have been accustomed to use these articles all their lives, will discard them wholly at once, nor, perhaps, that many will ever discard them entirely; but it would be better for them to do so, nevertheless.

4. Stimulating drinks should be abstained from with still greater strictness. Wine, beer, tea, and coffee should be taken under no circumstances. The influence of coffee in stimulating the genital organs is notorious. Chocolate should be discarded also. It is recommended by some who suppose it to be harmless, being ignorant of the fact that it contains a poison practically identical with that of tea and coffee.

Hot drinks of all kinds should be avoided (302-303).
I swear I've seen that hand gesture somewhere before.

So if Kellogg was Hitler, CW Post was Goebbels (and although that's hyperbole, the Seventh Day Adventists supported the Nazi cause).  After having a couple of nervous breakdowns, Post went to Kellogg's Battle Creek Sanitarium, where that soft-headed dickbag was fully indoctrinated in Kellogg's insane plan to neuter the entire human race.  Post decided he was going to go full-tilt boogie with it and invented what seems to have been unanimously considered to be the most horrible goddamned thing anyone's ever dumped down their neck- the bran muffin-flavored drink named Postum.  As such, Post started to give them reasons to drink Postum rather than coffee- namely, he manufactured the lie that coffee stunts your growth.  This was clearly a bold-faced lie for anyone with a brain, as coffee's been considered nearly magical since it was first discovered in Ethiopia.  Among other ridiculous claims, Post relentlessly ran ads stating insane shit like:

  • "by crowding milk out of the diet of children, coffee is a cause of undernourishment. It robs children of their rosy cheek sand sparkling eyes. It lowers their vitality, lessens their resistance to disease, and hampers proper development and growth." 
  • Outright lied and stated they had a research study showing coffee brought down kids' grades.
  • "Children 'brought up' on Postum are free from the evil effects of caffeine—the habit-forming drug—in coffee and tea" (Weissman).
They seriously pushed so hard on America that Post invented a superhero who flew around protecting unsuspecting kids from coffee while they were probably so terrified of touching the groins that taking a leak sent them into hysterics.



Given that the man behind Postum also tried to convince people that Grape Nuts were both edible and cured appendicitis and that meat was made of evil, you couldn't really put anything past him.  The man would have stolen your wallet and raped babies if it would have advanced his cause.  A massive dickhead by all accounts, but the"lessons" he imparted to an entire generation regarding detriments to one's health coffee could cause have taken damn near 100 years to debunk, and you'll still hear idiots say it's unhealthy.  So, here's a handy list of health benefits you can scream at vegetarian while you're handing them a Chris Brown style beating:
  • lower incidence of various diseases including liver and colorectal cancer
  • improved energy levels
  • Improved memory, mood and cognition
  • fat loss
  • lower risk of stroke
  • improved physical performance
  • lower risk of type 2 diabetes
  • reduced chance of getting Alzheimer's disease
  • lowered risks of getting Parkinson's
  • protects against cirrhosis
  • fights depression
... and while we're at it, it does not raise the risk of heart problems (Gunnars).


So, the next time one of these no-good chai soy latte-sipping fuckwads tells you anything at all, just punch them dead in the goddamned mouth, because they'd be pissing on your leg and telling you it was raining minutes later.  Coffee is the elixir of the gods, and there's not a fucking thing a human who doesn't eat steak has to say that's worth hearing even coffee wasn't better for you than blowjobs.

Sources:
Gunnars, Kris.  13 health benefits of coffee, based on science.  Healthline.  15 June 2017.  Web.  15 Dec 2017.  https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/top-13-evidence-based-health-benefits-of-coffee

John Harvey Kellogg.  Wikipedia.  Web.  15 Dec 2017.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Harvey_Kellogg

Kellogg, John Harvey.  Plain Facts for Old and Young.  Web.  15 Dec 2017. http://web.archive.org/web/20130702215936/http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=KelPlai.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=11&division=div1

CW Post.  Wikipedia. Web.  15 Dec 2017.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C._W._Post

Weissman, Jordan.  The devious ad campaign that convinced America that coffee is bad for kids.  The Atlantic.  Dec 2013.  Web.  15 Dec 2017.  https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2013/12/the-devious-ad-campaign-that-convinced-america-coffee-was-bad-for-kids/282676/

16 November 2017

Do It. Don't Fucking Talk About It.


I've decried the modern era of lifting for a wide variety of things ranging from people treating competitive lifting like a fun run to the idiotic dogmatism people have for certain training methods / disciplines to rampant consumerism, but perhaps no other modern era tendency in lifting is more ubiquitous or fucking annoying than the tendency people have to endlessly talk about lifting on the internet.  Day in and day out people are yammering on about their latest unmemorable workout, their new program, what diet they're on, or asking questions about a mishmash of those things and making vast proclamations about what they intended to do.  This phenomenon has come to make me hate the online community of lifters that I'd lose sleep over the fact that the gym is no longer the bastion of awesome it once was, but is instead filled with people I would literally as soon kill as look at.  The internet has literally ruined lifting, the lifting community, gyms, and has made just about everyone with whom I might have had something in common nothing more than prey and a target for pure hatred. 



Why anyone gives a shit what you did for your daily workout is a mystery to me.  I'm reasonably certain if anyone does, it's a bunch of pasty-faced doughy fucktards jerking their dicks to lifting vids, never having lifted a day in their lives.  The whole thing is so bizarre and narcissistic I have trouble understanding how I'm part of the same species.  And worse than being confusingly conceited (since everyday lifting is pretty drab), it serves absolutely no purpose.  "Didn't feel 100% but posted this stupid bullshit anyway / felt off / my dog was triggered by what a cat said to him so I was distracted / whatever" THEN DON'T FUCKING POST IT.  Journalists don't get to just vomit a bunch of lackluster bullshit onto the news page accompanied by weak-assed excuses and caveats because they desperately required validation.  Chess players aren't posting random lost games online with a litany of saddie commentary about how they weren't feeling up to snuff, BECAUSE EVEN CHESS PLAYERS ARE TOUGHER THAN LIFTERS AT THIS POINT.  Where the fuck is your pride?  Is that your identity?  Your identity is endless excuses and mediocrity?  


Has both a training log and the shitty physique to show for it.

And if you are claiming it's for a training log, I call bullshit.  First, training logs are for the retarded- if you can't remember what you lifted, spend less time fucking around on the internet while you're in the gym and acting like a professional photographer and FUCKING LIFT.  Maybe if you're less distracted with fucking Fitspiration (holy shit you people make me want to smash my laptop with a hammer because you're more annoying than a flock of midgets singing songs from the Wizard of Oz and more pathetic than Louie CK's game with women) and taking selfies while acting like the next George fucking Butler, you could remember what you'd lifted.  Second, if it were part of a training log, you'd either have insanely truncated workouts or you're a fucking liar because you're never going to watch 60+ minutes of training.


Huh.  Weird.  The man said nothing about begging for attention from strangers.

Which in no way brings me to my point, but as I'm gonna digress about 100 more times about how much I hate just about everyone on the planet I'll rein it in.  Rocky Marciano once said (and I think this is an old Italian adage), "Do it.  Don't talk about it."  The man was the only undefeated heavyweight champion ever and was so undersized he'd even be a small cruiserweight today.  In spite of being pocket-sized and not particularly quick or skilled, he out-worked everyone and went on to win 43 fights by knockout.  This beast never talked about being the champ outside of the ring- the neighborhood kids were amazed that he'd come home from fights and toss the football around with them in the street like regular-old Joe Blow.  Did he ever bore them to fucking death with talk of his workouts, or his diet, or any other of the minutia you fucking people endlessly discuss as if it matters in the slightest?  No- he was too busy training, or reading books, or playing football with neighborhood kids, or practicing his Italian.  There's a great big wide world out there, assholes.  Shut the fuck up about training and your diet and learn about it. 


That's what giving 100% effort looks like.  Notice she's not taking a selfie while doing it.

What matters is exactly what you lack: effort.  Execution.  And the reason?  You spend so much energy boring everyone to death with talk of what you're doing or going to do that you siphons energy from what you should be doing- training.  You're an energy leech off yourself and others (not that you care about anyone else, because the internet generation are the most self-serving, self-absorbed, whiny, purportedly disordered, useless sacks of monkey shit the world has ever seen) and you're preventing yourself from being anything than what the hideously vast majority of you are- pathetically average or below average.



While we're at it, STOP TELLING PEOPLE YOUR TRAINING AND PHYSIQUE GOALS.  Holy shit.  Years ago, I thought I had driven this fucking point home harder than Paul Walker drove his into a lamp post, but here's a refresher- if you tell people your goals, you're less likely to achieve them than Paul Walker and Ryan Dunn are to star in the next (and hopeful last) Fast and the Furious.  It's science- you create something called a social reality in which your brain thinks its achieved the goal already, and the social recognition you all crave so much makes you so fucking happy inside that you just throw up your hands and say fuck it.  And then proceed to bore us all with endless posts of spiritless gym drudgery replete with the aforementioned excuses.


When I become Overlord of this dumpster fire we call a planet, this picture represents just the start of what I'm going to do the internet form nazis and their shitpile families.

Finally, the worse form of the talkers are the fuckwits critiquing form online, and they should just die.  Long and slow.  They're a pussy or a cunt, their mom is a whore, their dad is a bitch, and their brothers and sisters should have been aborted.  9/10 of them have never lifted a fucking thing heavier than a jug of milk, and the other 1/10 are insecure pussies who for whatever reason feel the need to diminish the accomplishments of others to pump up their already overinflated egos  It's fucking pathetic, and while they should kill themselves, they won't because they're bitch-made to the point they make Kevin Spacey look like a paragon of masculinity and virtue.  To them I say: I hope you all get mouth cancer and your kids are born deformed.  Weak sauce, bitch made cunts.


The Road Warriors never spoke a word to anyone about their shitty workouts... nor would they have made excuses for one either.  They would have just sacked the fuck up and soldiered on.

To Wrap Things Up...

This is not your sport.  And I don't mean, maybe you're just not all that good and blah, blah, blah.  I mean this is my sport.  It's the sport of the people who trained in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s who didn't define themselves by a particular weightlifting discipline- they just lifted and busted their asses and had fun doing it.  People who were perfectly happy to hear your training maxes because they only competed to prove they were the best, rather than get some worthless trophy or medal to validate their existence.  The sport of people who would all show up to a competition if someone in their gym was competing because it meant that person had a legit shot at winning- and even if they didn't we'd descend on a pizza place in a mob and bullshit about just about anything but training afterwards.  This is the sport of the dudes who trained outside at Muscle Beach in the 1960s.  This is the sport of Saxon and Goerner and the dudes who trained in their gyms and trained like fucking lunatics.  If you don't want to be awesome, if you don't want to exhibit the modicum of personal pride that should prevent you from posting lackluster videos on the internet and endlessly discussing training minutae online while skipping workouts or meals, if you need Fitspo to get into the gym or not fall down weeping when someone doesn't tell you how pretty you are in the office one day, then GET THE FUCK OUT.  We don't want you.  We don't need you.  We don't like you.  We fucking hate you.  We want the fucking weight stack to fall on your weepy little head every time we see you in the gym.


Now fucking get out there. I want you to change the world. Don't think it'll change peacefully or you can do it alone. You need to eat the weak. You get out there. You use your hatred and you rip weightrooms apart. You hunt down the armchair internet form critics, the Fitspo cunts on Instagram, the fitness models, the scumbags with GoFundMe pages for competitions, and the loudmouth natty pussies, the unqualified coaches, the people who won't shut up about their fucking macros, the sensitive. Because they're all the same. And you... you rip their fucking guts out. Drape them on your Christmas tree! Make a mountain of their skulls in the foyer of your local gym.  We need a cleanse, people. We need a reboot. We need a new chance for all of us. But I cannot do this work alone. I need you not to suck.  Or I will have to break into your fucking house and eat you.

14 November 2017

Eat Shit That Tastes Good And Get Some Yogurt (Or Probiotics) Down Your Neck Or Pay The Fucking Price

If the choice is eating like this or finding out what a .45 round tastes like hot out of the barrel, hand me that hand cannon and pour some Dave's Insanity Sauce on the bullet before I pull the trigger.  And Mrs. Goddamned Dash?  You've got to be fucking joking.

We've all fallen into the trap of eating to feed the machine- it's been a badge of pride for me throughout the years, and I know it is for many bodybuilders.  Glorying in the asceticism of eating bland, unfulfilling meals with perfect macros and reveling in the superiority of the stoic refusal to eat a slice a pizza while out with your friends on Friday night, or refusing altogether to go out and silently proclaiming your supremacy over the people around you who refused to live like some weird, tan monk in an effort to achieve weight-induced enlightenment.  Some of us have done it.  It's "the life."


Just say no to asceticism.

If you've ever attempted this sort of asceticism, you know that it was pretty much wholly unnecessary.  As I mentioned above, I managed to stay reasonably lean, maintain most of my size, and not get too horrifically fat eating nothing but summer sausage and ramen noodles, and I barely had access to weights.  I discovered then that it was possible to out-train my diet, which was a fact of which I had an inkling when I managed to stay pretty big and lean after a year of literally nothing but vodka, chicken fingers, strip steak, pizza, and tater tots.  Does this mean I was completely wrong to diet so hard for years and years, treating carbohydrates like they were tainted with fallout from a dirty bomb?


There is no reason why anyone should have to live that way.

Nah, but I was onto something.  Taste, texture, and smell all affect digestion, and good digestion is critical to good healthy.  If your gorge is rising in your throat due to the fact that you're spooning canned chicken slathered in a bit of Texas Pete's into your face, your stomach is not prepared to deal with digesting that slightly-better-than-cat-food bullshit... and by the way, Texas Pete's is just about the most disgusting hot sauce on the planet.  Seriously, spend some time on Amazon and find some actually tasty hot sauce if you're just gonna forcefeed yourself the type of bland pap that one would expect in a futuristic prison movie where people are being fed nutrient paste (I'll give you yet another reason why hot sauce is awesome for you later on in the article).



This is a man with depressed dopamine levels.

Why does it fucking matter?  It's simple- your digestive tract doesn't just digest your food and process nutrients- it controls 75% of your dopamine production and thus has a great deal to do with your mood.  Before I get into the details of that fact, your mood has a great deal to do with your dopamine levels- too little dopamine and you're an ice cream eating saddie in stained underwear living in your parents' basement shit-talking the depth of world record squats, and too much makes you so fucking razor focused that you're what the Terminator would jerk off fantasizing about if he has a dick (Perez, Teta).


Notice that the Oak is tucking into an inch and a half steak and not a couple of cans of tuna like some ridiculous perma bachelor with a stained ceiling from his horrific and constant fish, eggs, and oats farts.

In 2012 the awesome podcast Radiolab ran a segment on a guy who had a massive inoperable fissure in his intestines.  Docs said that the only way to fix it was to anesthetize his digestive tract and let it heal itself.  For years he was on liquid diet injected directly into his stomach, but this caused a new problem- he was so goddamned depressed he started acting insane- he literally broke into a guy's backyard to grill for him immediately after failing at suicide and wandering the streets like a deranged, syphilitic hobo.  He'd noticed that his tongue had gone completely smooth, as he'd lost his taste buds, which pissed off his vagus system worse than a hillbilly when you tell him you hate him so much you'd like to send him to country festival in Vegas.  Your vagus nerve runs from the tip of your tongue to your colon, so pissing it off can fuck up pretty much aspect of your life... and that guy nearly died from doing so.



After having another infection that had the doctors thinking he'd die if he stayed on the pump, he reintroduced solid food into his diet slowly, but still had no sense of taste because he wasn't eating foods he loved, so he was still more or less miserable.  This all changed, however, when he went to his favorite diner and got the only meal he ever ordered (which is apparently the greatest breakfast sandwich in history)... and suddenly he could taste.  One of the largest nervous systems in his body responded immediately with a Thai massage parlor happy ending in his mouth because he fed it what it wanted.  As such, it seems like saying that taste is a factor in optimal health is like saying that punching is a factor in a Ray Rice elevator trip, because both of them can cause serious and immediate changes in the health of their surrounding environment.


In case you're unfamiliar with Pol Pot, this is the class picture for University of Phnom Penh in 1969.

It goes further than that though- we can apply this to hoisting heavy shit and looking like Grecian statues.  A study using two groups of mice fed them either lactobacillus-infused broth or regular broth, then dropped them into a bowl of water.  Mice hate water more than Pol Pot hated intellectuals, but they're great swimmers.  So they'd swim all over looking for a way to escape, and at about four minutes the broth-only mice would just give up and do a dead man's float.  The lactobacillus mice, however, went on like tiny fat little Michael Phelpses and the reviewers pulled them out at six minutes while their legs pinwheeled like a dog held over water.  In the first group, there was a 100-fold increase in cortisol that caused them to burn out and shut down.  The Michael Phelps group had a huge change in the receptors for GABA (which keeps you cooler than Jason Statham karate kicking in the middle of a gun fight), and they had half of the cortisol of the other mice.  The reason for this is... the vagus nerve's stimulation with an extra-healthy colon.

To prove that the vagus nerve was the way the lactobacillus-induced changes became tiny little badasses, they conducted a second experiment in which the good swimmers had their vagus nerves cut, were still fed the probiotics, and the mice suddenly became the couch potato saddie bitches their compatriots had been.



If you want a more philosophical reason to eat shit that tastes good and avoid just eating like a half-retarded Nascar fan on a food binge around Talledega weekend, consider the fact that food links you to your heritage and your heritage to you.  Cultures have forever been definied as much by their dress or speech as their food, so if you want to be recognized as a half-retarded bodybuilding asshat who owns nothing more than a gym membership and a microwave, by all means eat like a Men's Health model.  For me, I'd rather embrace the foods of the jacked motherfuckers from history who loved eating, fighting, and fucking.  Ajax from the Trojan War or Honey Boo Boo's mom.  Take your pick.

So, if you're good to your tongue and your colon you're gonna be a fucking god in the gym.  Because science.  Dunno about you guys, but I'm to off try my hand at making triple dipped fried chicken (which I'm using for ultra-spicy chicken sandwiches) because I plan on breaking my ass at the gym tomorrow and science says I'll PR.

Sources:
Bravo JA, Forsythe P, Chew MV, Escaravage E, Savignac HM, Dinan TG, Bienenstock J, Cryan JF.  Ingestion of Lactobacillus strain regulates emotional behavior and central GABA receptor expression in a mouse via the vagus nerve.  Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2011 Sep 20;108(38):16050-5.

Lehrer, Jonah and Carl Zimmer.  Guts.  Season 10, Episode 7.  3 Apr 2012.  Web.  14 Nov 2017.  Radiolab.  http://www.radiolab.org/story/197242-gut-feelings/

Perez SM, Carreno FR, Frazer A, Lodge DJ.  Vagal Nerve Stimulation Reverses Aberrant Dopamine System Function in the Methylazoxymethanol Acetate Rodent Model of Schizophrenia.  J Neurosci. 2014 Jul 9; 34(28): 9261–9267.

Teta, Jade.  Is your brain making you fat?  Metabolic Effect.  21 May 2009.  Web.  14 Nov 2017.  https://www.metaboliceffect.com/is-your-brain-making-you-fat/

30 October 2017

Fustigation Fury: Training To Fight From The Primeval To The Present, Part 2 (Catch Wrestlers)

[Check out Part 1 in this series here, and if you've already read it, give it another look in the Pehlwan section, as I found more detailed information on The Great Gama's training methods and lunatic, Saxon-style diet.]


If there's anything humans love more than inflicting grievous injuries on one another, it's watching other people inflict grievous injuries on one another.

Clearly, fighting techniques and training methods have some ancient roots, and in spite of their age, the techniques for building strength and endurance for combat have remained relatively standard throughout time.    Of course, every style seems to bring with it a twist on the tried and true, and it is in these twists that one find the Willy Wonka-esque Golden Ticket to preparing to turn one's fellow man into a pile of bubbling hamburger on the bar floor, parking lot, mat, or battlefield.  Lest you think that following in the training paths of fighters in styles you dislike, mock, revile, or simply dismiss out of hand, think again- there is something to be drawn from the experiences of any successful participant in sports requiring aggression, strength, and endurance in every other sport requiring the same.


Frankly, you're probably wasting your time if you bother with anything Ed Parker's American kenpo idiots teach, but there might be something useful in there if you look hard enough.  I just don't have that kind of time and can only only watch people do stupid things for so long before I lose interest.

It's not a matter of "wasting time" if you try a method that doesn't seem to add to your fighting prowess- provided you examine the reasons why it didn't work, you can gain wisdom from anything you've attempted.  Moreover, the Jains (an ultra non-violent sect of Hinduism hilariously founded by a legendary wrestler who trashed all comers) believe that one of the greatest sins one can commit is sruta jñānāvaraṇīya karma, which is the refusal to learn due to the closing of the mind, by spreading false or one-sided information, by ridiculing those who pursue knowledge, and by fanatical or prejudiced opinions.  In short, you're going to get karmically fucked with a spiked bat by some recently released serial rapists if you simply dismiss shit out of hand because you don't give it due consideration without judgement.

With that in mind, let's look at a fighting style absolutely no one but BJJ practitioners would talk shit on, and that's because BJJ practitioners like arbitrary rules against effective techniques that don't involve slithering around on a mat or displays of intense physical weakness more than people with polio hate Thai low kicks.


Catch-as-Catch-Can / Rough-and-Tumble Wrestlers

Wrestling in the mid-1800s was a much more interesting affair than the amateur wrestling world is today- styles were so diverse you'd think they were whores in Mos Eisley Cantina, and pretty much every big swinging dick on the planet was ready to throw down at the drop of a hat to prove his physical superiority over his fellow man.  Basically, the wrestling scene in the Industrial Era was all Van Damme-style Bloodsport, all the time.  In England, Lancashire wrestling (later known as catch-as-catch-can) was the dominant and most brutal style on the island, while more traditional styles (read softer than baby shit on a hot, rainy day) reigned supreme in the rest of the world.  Jacket wrestling seemed to be the most popular- in the US and Ireland it collar-and-elbow, which was the preferred style of non-hillbillies in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars (George Washington excelled at this type). For anyone who's tried Schwingen or Mongolian wrestling, collar-and-elbow will seem familiar- it's a typical style of jacket wrestling in which you can only grab the your opponent and win by throwing them.



In spite of the fact that collar-and-elbow was as popular as those obnoxious fidget spinners every kid who should have been drowned at birth fucks with endlessly, the first internationally recognized heavyweight champion wrestler, William Muldoon, typically competed in what later became known as Greco-Roman wrestling.  Muldoon was also the America's first real master strength and conditioning coach and was just as well known for being the Kurt Angle of the 19th Century as he was for being Gym Jones of the fight world.  Upon reflection, Muldoon was more like the love child of Mark Henry and Kurt Angle, as Muldoon was the man who legitimized the strongman industry, touring the nation with a show that combined flexing, feats of strength, and instruction on how to become a jacked badass at the same time he was fucking up all comers inside the squared circle.


Big John, ready to fuck up opponents like a gold digger spotting other cunty broads at a party full of trust fund babies.

As a trainer, Muldoon was peerless.  On a bet with a friend, Muldoon offered to train the champion bare knuckle boxer John L. Sullivan, who by then resembled fat, rumpled, drunk Gary Busey more than Mike Tyson.  Sullivan entered training camp on crutches, sloppier than Jonah Hill making a movie no one wants to watch about baseball statistics (somewhere between 260 and 300lbs), drunk enough that his blood type was listed as "Whiskey", and three years removed from fighting.  Utilizing a routine based on his own training, Muldoon took a man whose kidneys and liver were jumping ship like the first bitches on a lifeboat from the Titanic and got him down to a shredded 190, then bulked him to a ripped and ready 210 lbs to prepare for the last ever fight under London Prize Rules (which resembled pankration far more than modern boxing).  To get him shredded and keep him out of the bar, Muldoon chased Sullivan through a seven day a week routine of wood chopping, weightlifting, clubbell work, jumping rope, sparring, and even plowing fields.  By the time of the fight, people remarked that Sullivan looked to have been "chiseled out of stone", and Muldoon became even more famous for getting a somewhat over-the-hill, insanely alcoholic Sullivan into the best fighting shape of his life, and proving definitively that his methods for training for wrestling applied well to all combat sports (Bare Knuckle, Nash, Waters).


At first I thought this was a guy puking on a midget, but upon further inspection it's a guy biting a midget on the ass.  Rough n' tumble style, I guess.


Muldoon's methods were obviously effective, but just as with anything there was more than one way to skin that cat, and catch wrestlers were about to prove this in spades.  Wrestling was undergoing a metamorphosis because the champs were touring the country as "barnstormers", taking on all comers for a cash prize.  As they did this, they encountered a group of people who had been playing by an entirely different set of rules- the "rough and tumble" fighters of the backwoods.  To say that most wrestlers and strongmen on the circuit had to have been surprised by the ridiculous, Saw-like brutality of these psychotic, moonshine-enhanced hillbillies is an understatement, because no sport since pankration had allowed such freedom in its rules, and literally no sport of which the Western world had heard actually encouraged the intentional disfigurement and maiming of opponents.
"The emphasis on maximum disfigurement, on severing bodily parts, made this fighting style unique. Amid the general mayhem, however, gouging out an opponent's eye became the sine qua non of rough-and-tumble fighting, much like the knockout punch in modern boxing. The best gougers, of course, were adept at other fighting skills. Some allegedly filed their teeth to bite off an enemy's appendages more efficiently. Still, liberating an eyeball quickly became a fighter's surest route to victory and his most prestigious accomplishment. To this end, celebrated heroes fired their fingernails hard, honed them sharp, and oiled them slick. 'You have come off badly this time, I doubt?' declared an alarmed passerby on seeing the piteous condition of a renowned fighter. 'Have I,' says he triumphantly, shewing from his pocket at the same time an eye, which he had extracted during the combat, and preserved for a trophy." 
"Circuit Court Judge Aedamus Burke barely contained his astonishment while presiding in South Carolina's upcountry: 'Before God, gentlemen of the jury, I never saw such a thing before in the world. There is a plaintiff with an eye out! A juror with an eye out! And two witnesses with an eye out!" If the "ringtailed roarers" did not actually breakfast on stewed Yankee, washed down with spike nails and Epsom salts, court records from Sumner County, Arkansas, did describe assault victims with the words, "nose was bit." The gamest "gamecock of the wilderness" never really moved steamboat engines by grinning at them, but Reuben Cheek did receive a three-year sentence to the Tennessee penitentiary for gouging out William Maxey's eye" (Gorn)
Every picture of catch wrestling makes it look weird as shit and intensely painful.

At the same time, a hybrid fighting style called catch-as-catch-can had arisen in England that mirrored the brutality of rough-and-tumble.  The wrestling style of Lancashire, long renown for being the home of the most surly and psychotic mining maniacs east of the Appalachians, began making its way across the Atlantic at the end of the 19th Century, and that combined with the techniques adopted from fighting the rough-and-tumble crowd, the "knocking and kicking" style of the American freed slaves, the aforementioned Devonshire style known as purring, Scottish backhold, Greco-Roman (French flat hand wrestling), Japanese jujitsu, and German kampfringen became American catch wrestling.  Because it combined both striking and grappling elements of basically every style being used internationally, catch wrestling was essentially the hyper brutal forebear of mixed martial arts.  Until Muldoon retired, however, catch wrestlers were not considered the best in the world- Muldoon had defeated everyone from Australian champion of boxing, wrestling, fencing, and weightlifting William Miller to all-around super athlete, strongman, and baddest motherfucker ever Donald Dinnie to the best collar-and-elbow men on the planet, in addition to the baddest men catch wrestling could throw at him.


"Oh, my style?  It's called Jacked-As-Fuck-Fu, and it's a motherfucker."

If you're wondering how a guy who was generally unused to a style that more resembled the antics of a rabid chimp than the more staid techniques of Greco-Roman wrestling, you needn't- the guys who used the Greco style were almost to a man ridiculously strong, and from Muldoon's international world championship title in 1880 until George Hackenschmidt's loss to Frank Gotch in 1908 their strength was what carried the day inside the ring.  Superstars of the catch wrestling world like Ed "the Strangler" Lewis lost to the Great Gama due to Gama's overwhleming strength, and Zbysko defeated Dr. Benjamin Roller, another renowned catch wrestler.  Rather than Muldoon or Hack, however, it was a match between the godfather of modern bodybuilding and strongman extraordinaire, Eugen Sandow, and a notorious finger, wrist, and arm breaker named Sebastian Muller that sheds the most light on how these strongmen dominated their hyper-violent opponents- he literally physically destroyed the man.



In this match Sandow, enraged after Muller dug his fingers into Sandow's forearms to cause severe nerve damage (and countless attempts to snap Sandow's fingers and wrists), yanked Muller into a bearhug and popped him like a blood-filled dummy when run over by a steamroller in Maximum Overdrive.  Sandow managed to break four of Muller's ribs and had the man vomiting blood all over the ring, at which point Sandow dropped the near corpse to the mat and claimed victory.  Apparently the catch wrestlers got hip to this trick, though, and by 1908 the era of the strongmen and their effete Greco style had come to an end.


The key to Gotch's wrestling style seems to have been toe control, since every one of the pics of the man wrestling involves a human pretzel having his big toe ripped off by a bored-looking Gotch.

The catch wrestlers developed remarkably scientific methods for training their style, especially considering the brutal and haphazard roots of the sport.  Countless books were written on the subject (which were likely sold with the silly kid-getting-sand-kicked-in-his-face style ads Charles Atlas later used to sell his isometric programs.  They all seem to agree, however, that there "are four requirements of a great wrestler who can keep a title for years without having his shoulders pinned to the padded canvas: Strength, endurance, speed and skill" (Robbins 3), which while seeming obvious would likely be disputed by most of the Gracies, who seem to think that a tremendous amount of skill and the ability to bore a crowd past the point of death are sufficient.


Even though he was heavily out-massed and overpowered by guys like Stanislaus Zbysko (5'8" 230lbs) and George Hackenschmidt (5'9" 218lbs), Frank Gotch was able to trash both men with superior quickness, surprising strength, technicality, and the desire to cripple his opponents.

Clearly, the skill bit was covered by practicing holds and sparring, of which Gotch did a tremendous amount and for which you can find ample instruction in the books available all over the internet on catch wrestling.  For strength and conditioning,  5'11", 196lb Frank Gotch did surprisingly little work with actual weights and trained for all intents and purposes like pehlwani do, with heavy emphasis on bodyweight exercises.  His favorite workout was apparently much like the one we all know and love using a deck of cards to determine your reps on a given set, and went like this:
First, shuffle a full deck of cards (Jokers included). Black cards mean squats and red cards mean push-ups.
Every time you deal a black card, you do twice the amount of repetitions as the face value of the dealt card. This means, if you get a black 8, you do 16 squats. If you get a black Ace, you do 22 squats.
Spades are regular Hindu Squats, Clubs are Jumper Squats. The first Joker you pull means you do 40 hindu-squats consecutively.
Every time you get a red card, you do push-ups. This time you do the actual value of the face card. If you get a red 8, you do 8 push-ups. If you get a red Ace, you do 11 push-ups.
Diamonds are regular Hindu Push-Ups, Hearts are 1/2 Moon Push-Ups. The second Joker you pull means you do 20 push-ups consecutively.
Follow this with a 3-minute wrestler's bridge with the best form possible (Gotch's Bible).
Farmer Burns- the ultimate badass and possessor of one the worst nicknames in history.

Farmer Burns, probably the most famous catch wrestling coach of the 19th Century and one of the few people to defeat Frank Gotch (who he later coached), recommended a combination of upper body isometrics, neck work, and weird trunk twists and bends for conditioning.  He especially stressed the importance of neck work, stating that a "strong neck is ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY if you are to wrestle successfully, for it is the point of attack more often than any other part of the body.  Most persons have very weak necks, so much training is necessary if you have wrestling aspirations" (Burns 9).  The neck exercises he recommended are about as rudimentary as they come, using your hand for resistance from side to side and back to front, and then front and back bridges.  Nothing especially groundbreaking, but his admonitions against having a weak neck are as vehement as some of his "trunk and legs" exercises are ridiculous.  The man was no William Muldoon.


"Only a pussy can't take a hanging or two" - Farmer Burns

Almost as much as he enjoyed submitting people by cranking on their big toe, Burns really loved work with dumbbells that weighed less than 50lbs along with isometric and bodyweight work, and his recommendations for exercises mostly look dumber than the shit you see noobs doing in Planet Fitness in their first month of training.  Pulldowns to their lap?  That shit is a majestic effort to isolate the lats compared to the nonsensical shit you see Burns recommending. Partner-assisted push-pull exercises are about as good as it gets, because he's got some wacky shit that defies explanation more than the success of the Jonas Brothers' career.


Nevermind the fact it was the strongmen Gotch had the most trouble with- Burns said no heavy lifting.

As I mentioned above, Burns (in spite of the fact that Hackenschmidt, Sandow, and other strongmen trashed most or all of their opponents in wrestling) really only recommended light dumbbell work, bodyweight and isometric exercises, and Indian clubbell work for strength training.  He thought that machines were more pointless than a condom when fucking a leper, and that the use of any dumbbell over 50 lbs resulted in "abnormal development" that led to overly hard musculature that would make wrestlers slow, ungainly, and would ultimately shorten their lives.  To illustrate his point, he mentioned that he easily defeated a grip specialist in wrestling, and that no professional ballplayer ever lifted weights.  In short, even a guy like Farmer Burns could show his ass sometimes and be hideously, ridiculously wrong.


When Assirati wasn't lifting some ridiculous amount of weight or doing one-handed handstands, he was fucking people up on the mat using Lancashire catch-as-catch-can wrestling.

In contrast, Hackenschmidt, who was also a very successful all-around wrestler, recommended six days a week of heavy lifting.  For him, it was either lighter weights of rep work with full body workouts every day, up to six days a week, or ultra-heavy single lift sessions, on or two per day, with separate sessions of low-intensity cardio thrown in for good measure (Hackenschmidt).  Had Hack followed that regimen and trained under Farmer Burns, who's to know what he might have done in the pro wrestling world.  If Snake Pit wrestlers out of Wigan, Lancashire like strongman/gymnast/700 lb no-warmup deadlifter Bert Assirati are any indication, combining the strength of a strongman with the ferocity and technical skill of catch wrestling will basically turn you into an unstoppable killing machine.


Like Dennis Reynolds of It's Always Sunny, Burns (L) seemed to prefer the "Jesus on the cross look", whereas his protege Gotch actually looked like he could do an unaided pushup without passing out from malnourishment.
In regards to diet, Farmer Burns had this to say:
"The question of what to eat is not so important as what NOT to eat.  To overeat and clog the system with too much food or with food that is harmful, is weakening and prevents development of strength and health.  In fact overeating invites disease, for the overloaded stomach and intestines are sluggish, give off poisonous matter to surrounding tissues, and often results in sever complications, cause fatty degeneration, and open up a rich field for disorder and disease."
"I therefore advise the students to eat plenty of good plain food, yet not too much.... Among the things to avoid are: All liquors, very little tea or coffee or better not any, tobacco, highly seasoned foods, and all kinds of fat meat and sweets.
Stale bread or toast is better than fresh bread.  Eat plenty of fresh vegetables, and a reasonable quantity of lean meats, fish or chicken.  Fresh ripe fruits are fine food and should be used liberally.  Eggs are especially recommended, boiled or poached, and nothing is better than one or two raw eggs every day" (Burns 21).
These fuckers loved toe holds more than Whitney Houston loved crack.

In addition to bland foods and baby weights, Farmer Burns recommended a hell of a lot of physical activity every day, because wrestling matches back in the day went on as long as they had to, and often stretched past a couple of hours.  If you're thinking about that UFC Superfight shitshow that featured American wrestling virtuoso Dan Severn vs. American shoot fighter Ken Shamrock in easily the most boring fight this side of the coma ward in a hospital, that's about what I'm imagining as well, though Hack tired out in those fights, so this bears some mentioning.  Burns believed you should "GET BUSY AND STAY BUSY.  Do not permit yourself to neglect your exercises, for they are as important to good health as eating and breathing" (Burns 57).  To build one's wind, Burns had this to say (which stood in stark contrast to the beliefs of the Lancashire catch wrestlers, who believe that should should weight train or run only after you've wrestled until you can barely move):
"Running must be a part of the program of any man who expects to become a good all-round athlete.  It is the great developer of "WIND" and you must have "wind" to endure long contests.  WIND is another name for ENDURANCE.  I have won dozens of matches by sizing up my opponent, deciding that he was not in perfect condition, and then allow him to work on me until he was exhausted and "winded" and puffing, when I could throw him with ease.
Start running every day if possible.  This applies to the student who is exercising for health and physical culture practices, as well as to those who are studying to become professional wrestlers.
At first jog along for a few blocks until you are quite tired and are "puffing" considerably.  Do not overdo the matter.  Gradually increase day by day until you can run a half mile, then a mile, then longer distances.  I can run two to three miles without inconvenience, at the age of fifty-two, and I believe this is one of the very greatest reasons that I have retained my strength and endurance.
Begin the running now, and keep it up.  The best time to run is in the early morning, but if you cannot take the time then, do your running in the evening, before eating, or late after your supper is digested.  A bath should of course follow the run, then take a brisk rub-down and you will feel fine and enjoy living (Burns 29).
Bill Riley of the original Lancashire Snake Pit thought that if you ran, you'd only die looking fucking stupid for having been a jogger.

So there you have it- catch wrestling was and still is the unadulterated shit, and though the workouts are a little dated, their ideas are not entirely without merit... though they might stand to be a bit updated with modern MMA strength training.  Either way, Farmer Burns would probably call you a fucking pussy and jam his thumbs into pressure points while headbutting and spitting on you.

Go hurt someone.  In the meantime, I'll be working on the type of strength training favored by judoka and karateka.

Sources:
Bare Knuckle Boxing.  Bobby Gunn training old Time Techniques that William Muldoon taught John L. Sullivan.  Youtube.  11 Nov 2016.  Web.  13 Oct 2017.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZE2QDGG8m8

Best Workout for grappling and MMA.  Snake Pit USA.  Wb.  30 Oct 2017.  http://snakepitusa.com/spmedia/nutrition/best-workout-for-grappling-and-mma/

Burns, Farmer.  Lessons in wrestling and physical culture.

George Hackenschmidt's daily schedule for health and physical fitness.  Physical Culturist.  8 July 2013.  Web.  30 Oct 2017.  http://physicalculturist.ca/george-hackenschmidts-daily-schedule-for-health-and-physical-fitness/

Gorn, Elliot J.  Gouge and bite, pull hair and scratch: The social significance of fighting in the southern backcountry (First published in The American Historical Review, 1985 90:18-43).  Journal of Manly Arts.  Apr 2001.  Web.  25 Oct 2017.  http://ejmas.com/jmanly/articles/2001/jmanlyart_gorn_0401.htm

Gotch's Bible: Conditioning challenge.  Scientific Wrestling.  Web.  14 Oct 2017.  http://www.scientificwrestling.com/public/249.cfm

Hitchcock Jr, E. and F. Nelligan.  Wrestling Catch As Catch Can.  New York: American Sports Publishing Co, 1912.

Kent, Graeme.  The Strongest Men on Earth: When the Muscle Men Ruled Show Business.  Phoenix: Robson Publishing, 2012.

Nash, John.  The forgotten golden age of MMA- Part 1: The Golden Age of Wrestling and the lost art of American catch-as-catch-can.  Cageside Seats.   Dec 2012.  Web.  11 Oct 2017.  https://www.cagesideseats.com/2012/12/1/3669774/the-forgotten-golden-age-of-mma-part-i-the-golden-age-of-wrestling

Robbins, George.  How to Wrestle: Based on the work of Frank Gotch.  Chicago:  Max Stein Publishing House, 1934.

Sandow, Eugen and G. Mercer Adam.  Sandow on Physical Training: A Study in the Perfect Type of the Human Form.  New York: J. Selwin Tait and Sons, 1894.

Waters, Mike.  End of a boxing era: The tale of Jake Kilrain vs. John L. Sullivan, the final bare-knuckle heavyweight title fight.  Syracuse.com.  9 Jun 2012.  Web.  24 Oct 2017.  http://blog.syracuse.com/sports/2012/06/end_of_a_boxing_era_the_tale_o.html

Yohe, Steve.  Ed "Strangler" Lewis: Facts within a myth.  Wrestling Titles.  Web.  30 Oct 2017.  http://www.wrestling-titles.com/personalities/lewis_ed/bio/lewisbio08.html