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23 October 2017

We Are All Doomed- The Death Of Grit In The Modern World

To borrow somewhat from the late, great psychopathic genius Hunter S. Thompson, what the fuck are we doing discussing bullshit like the Borg Rating of Perceived Exertion and minutiae about diet when the entire world seems to be teetering on the brink of an ugly, mean-spirited kind of long term banality that threatens, on an almost day-to-day basis, to mushroom beyond anything we can say, think, or plan out here in this atavistic sanctuary with nothing to recommend it except the baddest motherfuckers to ever live and a spate of stew recipes?  Is filling our heads with tales of people who were actually interesting and our stomachs with the food of badass, nonconformist, maniacal people from bygone eras actually going to save us from the fate to which humanity seems consigned?  We're living in a world so disconnected from our primal selves that people believe that the consumption of material goods and reliance on the pseudo-intellectual claptrap that dribbles out of the fingers of individuals with degrees in "sciences" (degrees so objectively laughable that in bygone years they simply would have fallen under the umbrella of Physical Education) will endow us with super strength.  To state that this situation is laughable does not do it justice- we are on the brink of what should be metaphysical war, a war that if avoided will see us get dragged into a morass of suck we may never escape.

I don't want to get off on a rant here, but...

This isn't going to be some trite rejoinder to be a "real man" or some sales pitch for one of the lazily-engineered, mass-produced programs aimed at the lowest-common-denominator lump of hairy cowshit slumping through your local gym, as this is no time for half-measures or silly self-affirming entreaties.  Strength of character in the modern world is poised on the precipice, ready to fall into extinction, and what we need at this point is metaphorical terrorism, not toothless, soft-hearted weightlifting allegory or scientific exposition.  We need violent revolt, not gentle reform.  All society does at this point is churn out "learned men" who adapt in the most refined manner to every circumstance, no matter how intolerable, and fall invariably into slavishness and submissiveness.  They gird their loins with rules and pad their armor with regulations, all while begging for more platitudes and strictures.  
"The spirit by which most teachers are driven is dismally poignant proof of [this phenomenon].  Licked into shape, they themselves lick into shape at best: tailored, they tailor.... It is not knowledge that needs to be inculcated, it is the personality that needs to be drawn out of itself" (Stirner).

Revolt, not reform, allows one to transcend the present and perfect the future.  It is proactive, while the latter is reactive- it is destruction for its own sake, with little regard for what replaces the present state.  It is revolt, then, that must save us, because we are creatures teetering on the brink of extinction.  Efficiency shall not play a role in this revolt, because efficiency and mediocrity are hardcore porn-style bedfellows. Consider the application of efficiency to nearly anything that requires passion- in literature, efficient writing is often dull to the point of being unreadable; in sex, efficiency is not going to have your partner bragging on Insta about how you blew out her back or he or she yours, because efficient sex is just enough to get the job done; efficient fighters win by decision, balancing their strengths against those of their opponent to win Mayweather-style snoozefests; efficient design and architecture is always spartan and ultimately forgettable; and efficient warfighting is often indecisive and protracted.  Passionate people go all in to win it all, and hold nothing in reserve.  Anything less than total victory or total effort is complete defeat and a waste of fucking time.

I think you're all fucked in the head. We're in the gym and you want to calculate a spreadsheet and use stupid internet jargon. Well, I'll tell you something. This is no longer a simple lifting session. It's a quest. It's a quest for strength. You're gonna get strong, and I'm gonna get strong.... We're all gonna get so fucking strong we're gonna need plastic surgery to remove our goddamn smiles! You'll be whistling "Zip-A-Dee Doo-Dah" out of your assholes! 

I must be crazy! I'm on a pilgrimage to force people to understand that being jacked and strong is so easy they do it in the Special Olympics
Praise the Potato! Holy shit!

Today, the weak have appropriated everything, robbing the physical culture community and society as a whole not just of appreciation of their community and effort but of strength and pride themselves.  The abolition of weakness and laziness has taken a back seat to the abolition of pride and concerted effort.  Strength and super fitness are now associated with oppression and evil, while the true oppressors, the obese and weak and lazy and mediocre, sweaty with the effort of sitting upright and speaking their obscene, "politically correct" diatribes, are held aloft as heroes displaying bravery in the face of people who rightly despise them as subhuman... if only their supporters could actually lift them overhead.

I'm not saying that these people are our enemies... I'm just saying maybe we should think about beating in their fucking heads with a ball bat.

Every time I turn around there is a new, dumber, more complicated way of describing a simple concept in physical culture.  Physical culture has been and always will be as physical a venture as fucking- you might reverse engineer techniques and methodology using science, or draw some interesting ideas from shit you read on Pubmed, but by and large it's going to be force of will and enthusiasm that's going to carry the day.  If you're going to interject with some lame comment about the "technical aspects" of training, don't- the technical aspects are by and large bullshit lauded by weak people so they can focus on something other than their utter lack of intestinal fortitude.  Focusing on form minutia is about as useful to the average trainee as eloquence and diction are to a mute.  I'm the one of the biggest fucking nerds on the planet, and I find the science-driven movement [read: pathetic pseudo-intellectualism] rampant in modern training to be objectionable in the way most people would find a bum pissing on their grandfather's grave objectionable.  Those coaches with intricate, restrictive programs rife with enough calculations to rival the physics involved in getting to and from the moon and ridiculous Pubmed citations that have about as much relation to real-world training as the behavior of a well-treated Shih tzu to that of wolves apply only in taking the interesting and making it banal; in making the nuanced simplistic and absolute; and in turning an enthusiastic weight lifter into a mindless, soulless automoton.  They're not publishing programs to make you a superhuman lifter- they're trying to make plebian egalitarian principles the guiding light of your life, and they want to force everyone into the same rigid framework to ensure everyone sucks equally. 

Michael Bolton LOVES calculating his RPE while he's training, and his physique reflects that.  If you're busy with that, you might as well train listening to his music, because you seem to hate training and you might as well hate the rest of your life as well.
[Edit: Apparently, that's Kenny G- I can't tell the fucking difference and listening to either makes me pray for death.]

Those of you who jack off to metric-heavy systems are likely having a fucking stroke right now, but I've got even more bad news for you- training is more art than science.  To be certain, there is some science involved, just as there is geometry in drawing correct proportions, chemistry in mixing and applying color, and mathematics in musical composition.  What makes all four of those things appealing to humans, that which inflames one's passion and ignites the spirit like good bondage porn does, transcends mere science however- that is where those disciplines become art.  The obverse is true as well, wherein one can create soulless, bland tripe like smooth jazz, Celine Dion's horrifying easy listening pop stylings, or even Rihanna's likely computer generated trash music for trash people.  Cookie cutter programs are of the same ilk- they are designed for the lowest common denominator and will avail you of nothing but hindered progress and the utter destruction of your spirit.  They suck your soul out of your asshole and fire it directly into the toilet, replacing what was a boundless human spirit the likes of which conquered fire and hunted megafauna to extinction with a malevolent imp that constantly tells you that you're average, that you should buy a minivan and move to the suburbs, and that you like beige and Bon Jovi and whatever else the dead people waddling around malls enjoy.  In short, cookie cutter programs make lifters into cannon fodder in the war for superlative strength, and the use of cookie cutter programs destroys the spirit because their use requires no self-discipline, inner strength, self-regulation, introspection, or intellectual effort that makes humans what they are- brilliant, violent, passionate people who want to dominate their environment and destroy the opposition.

‘It certainly is a remarkable curiosity. A magnificent relic. But against what is already boiling across the plains? The legion of the dumb? The merchants and farmers and makers of trifles and filers of papers? The infinite tide of greedy little people?  Such things as this are worthless as a cow against a swarm of ants. There will be no place in the world to come for the magical, the mysterious, the strange. They will come to your sacred places and build . . . tailors’ shops. And dry-goods emporia. And lawyers’ offices. They will make of them bland copies of everywhere else.’ 
― Joe Abercrombie, Red Country

I love the above quote, because it describes the modern world perfectly.  Modern man has taken every interesting thing and made it bland- they've deconstructed and dissected every last fucking thing on the planet like some insane 19th Century vivisectionists with some time on their hands and a couple of live animals, shredding the life out of the world and leaving behind nothing more than a bloody work space and lengthy, impotent, banal explanations of inherently interesting things.  Magic was reviled first as satanic, then as myth, and has been resurrected as quantum mechanics, using theoretical physics to something that humans have intuitively understood since the dawn of time.  Ancient Hindu thinkers had a term for that phenomenon, avidya, which describes the specific kind of ignorance so prevalent today characterized by "the failure to use the 'no-thought-mid' of intuitive knowing - 'Pleistocene mind'" (McVan).  Due to humanity's overspecialization, many people seem to have a disconnect between themselves and their instincts that causes them to misperceive reality "through a haze of abstract rationality and distorting emotions'" (McVan).

I can just hear the high pitched, squealing rebuttals of the redditors and dipshits now- the rapid fluttering of fingers over keys in search of some Pubmed study proving dispassionate training produces more gains, likely combined with a hastily typed missive to the NoFap movment about a heretical article enjoining people to regain their lost barbarous humanity, while their flaccid, minute penises flop limply below their natty-bro guts and their 13" arms struggle to maintain the frantic pace of their fingers.  To that, I say "SUICIDE IS AN OPTION.  IT'S NEVER TOO LATE TO END IT ALL."  A savage and barbarous state is what effects the most change in the world, and one that needs to be courted rather than reviled.  Yeah, barbarous states do some bad shit- clearly the actions of Mengele and Unit 731 were regrettable, but they advanced medical science hundreds of years in less than a decade.  The Nazis also gave us the keys to space travel, the Volkwagen Beetle and its supercharged twin the Porsche, badass uniforms without which we'd not have The Empire's getups or most of Marilyn Manson's wardrobe, and other assorted shit like the AK47 (stolen from a Nazi design).    The Mongols gave us biological warfare (the bubonic plague), the long distance postal system, modern methods of organizing large armies, and other innovations.  The same can be said about the Vikings and exploration- had they utilized a "rational", methodical, plodding methodology for exploration, they would never have made it to Newfoundland, nor would they have dominated Northern Europe for hundreds of years.

In the 1980s and 1990s, we gave exactly zero fucks about form because we weren't pussies terrified of straining something- we had our eyes on the prize and let nothing get in our way.  Foam roll and fiddlefuck about with your spreadsheets if you want- I'll be busy building legendary strength and fucking your girlfriend post workout.

Gyms of the pre-internet era were amazingly simplistic, brutal, awesome affairs.  Unthinkable today, bodybuilders and powerlifters actually comingled, training with one another and challenging each other to impromptu, yet unspoken, competitions on everything from the bench to the preacher curl to the behind the neck press and every goddamned thing in between.  No one was counting anything but who did more reps or more weight and every fucking workout was a war.  There wasn't a calculation being done at any time, unless you were mentally gauging your training partner's weakness in selecting the next exercise with which you were going to assault your muscles.  No one fucking foam rolled.  No one consulted charts and graphs midworkout.  Prehab and rehab consisted of walking to and from your car and popping a shitload of stimulants or slamming burgers.  The air was filled with chalk and shit talk, and we had fucking fun.  Imagine that, you fucktards with your goddamned RPE calculators- WE HAD FUN WHEN WE TRAINED.  It was an adventure, and we enjoyed every fucking second of it.  And while we're at it- we didn't endlessly discuss training like a pack of monday morning quarterbacks or baseball nerds obsessed with statistics and not with actually playing the sport.  We would have looked at that the same way we'd look at people trying to associate metrics to last night's fuckfest at a BDSM dungeon after hours- it's stupid and it just detracts from the entire experience.

"The ultimate object of education can scarcely be knowledge anymore: it is, rather, the will born of such knowledge.  In short, its tendency will be to create the personal or free man.  What is truth but the revelation of what we are?  It is a matter of discovering ourselves, of freeing ourselves from everything extraneous to us, of retraining ourselves or releasing ourselves radically from all authority, of a return to innocence."
- Max Stirner

Just as with societies, civilization in the weight room corrupts and weakens the spirit.  Following these idiotic programs with the same attention to detail and dogmatic adherence that Gorean slaves do their masters, you remove yourself both from the learning process and the experience of strength training in general.  Instead, you become a passive participant in events you deem outside of your control as you slavishly follow the path laid out for you by some nameless stranger.  As Jung said, "only a change in the attitude of the individual can bring about a renewal in the spirit," and if you're dogmatically following the ideas of someone else, you're failing to effect change.  Your reality is molded by your desire, and only your pointed, rabid thought and action can make it so.

I offer no system.  This is not a revolution.  I have no desire to replace the world as it is with a new system, nor have I a desire for a return to the past.  Instead, I seek a full scale revolt against a world that suggests that the modern human condition, inferior to that of the Cro-Magnon, is the end of our species' development.  Countless humans have transcended normal expectations for physical and mental development, but instead of championing them as a model for emulation, society views them as freaks and outliers and contents itself with consumerism, indolence, obesity, ignorance, puritanism, and weakness.  True strength is feared, reviled, marginalized, and demonized.  Self-reliance is lambasted as exclusionary and sociopathy.  Self improvement in the modern era has become the disgusting field of "self help", which is naught but excuse-making and pseudoscience.  True self improvement is considered at best to be self-indulgent and at worst to be self-destructive solipsism, when it is in fact neither.

Arnold von Winkelried, a Swiss psychopath with bigger balls than a Brahma bull and a hatred for the oppressive hyperstructure of the Habsburgs, led an assault of untrained, battle axe wielding Swiss mountain men against a massed formation of thousands of knights.  Utilizing nothing but hatred and big fucking biceps, the Swiss slaughtered the Austrians wholesale... after Arnold just threw himself into the Austrian lines and made a hole in their lines himself.

We must throw off the chains imposed upon us by society so we may stand proud over the plebes as their clear physical, mental, and spiritual superiors.  Unfettered by physical weakness, dogmatism, and any other strictures that limit our freedom of thought, we can preside over the world as its giants among Liliputians.  We can be the modern incarnation of the Annunaki that will be regarded by future generations as gods and demigods if we choose... or we can bust out our calculators and pocket protectors and contend ourselves with the promise of incremental progress if only we would castrate our spirit and approach life in a dispassionate and ultimately illogical "rational" manner.


Ford, Michael W.  Wisdom of Eosphoros.  Houston: Succubus Productions, 2015.
Ford, Michael W.  Sekhem Apep.  Houston: Succubus Productions, 2014.
Henry, Emile.  Letter to the governor of the conciergerie prison (1894).  No Gods No Masters.  Oakland: AK press, 2005.
McVan, Ron.  The Book of Wotan.  Middletown: Sons of Albion, 2016.
Stirner, Max.  The false principles of our education.  No Gods No Masters.  Oakland: AK press, 2005.

11 October 2017

Fustigation Fury- Training To Fight From The Primeval To The Present, Part 1

Notorious (and somehow illiterate in a developed Western nation) Irish Traveller Paddy Doherty does little more than speak an unintelligible patois of Hiberno-English, Irish, and German, commit petty crime, and fight.

Humans have fought since time immemorial- we're an ornery lot.  Like other apes, men have fought to establish their position in the pecking order or to kill, but they've also fought for money and glory.  Over the years, humans have invented more ways to fuck each other up than one could count, ranging in scope and intensity from the on-its-face-ludicrous-but-apparently brutal Russian slap fighting to atomizing each other with nuclear weapons, but they all have one thing in common- the desire to inflict pain and damage upon one's opponent.

If WSM wanted to get super hardcore, they could always add the knives-strapped-to-the-triceps gambit to the axe hold... I have a feeling there'd be a lot of records broken the first day they used the Enter the 36 Chambers method.

Humans being the apex predators and unrepentant destructive psychotics that we are, have learned over the years that simply practicing technique is not enough when one must stand toe-to-toe with their opponent and attempt to impose their will on them- physical fitness, stamina, and strength are also key elements to victory.  As such, just about every style of combat ever developed has a concomitant training program that compliments and enhances it, just like good lube does for violent anal fisting.

Before we jump into strength and conditioning training for fighting, however, I'd like to clue you guys into some badass fighting styles that aren't often discussed, which is tragic because these styles are more awesome than a tandem blowjob from Tegan and Sara (or for the ladies... being doublestuffed by John Cena and the Rock?).

  • Russian Fist Fight.  This Russian martial art usually consists of two teams of Russian psychopaths pairing off and beating the everloving fuck out of each other, because vodka and Siberia and general evil are the prime motivators in everyday Russian life.  This sport is apparently the progenitor of the fight rule everyone thinks of as American as apple pie, the "don't hit 'em when they're down," which is an oddly pragmatic rule for a people seemingly obsessed with being little more than drunken villains from James Bond films.  Check out this awesome Little Big video that highlights this incredibly brutal Russian tradition.

    • Purring.  Also known as shin-kicking, this English martial art began as part of the Cotswold Olimpick Games in or around 1622.  One of several games so fucking weird that they could only have been the produce of bets between people so drunk that locomotion was a distant memory and in which double vision would be considered 20/20.  These games included a bizarre dance competition that featured the village retard as a referee called dwile flonking, piano smashing (I am not making that up). and sledgehammer throwing, so purring must have seemed like an event dreamt up by Michael Bolton while masturbating to the tune of Christopher Cross's horrific, worthy-of-being-sent-to-the-camps song "Best That You Can Do."  The sport, and I use that term very loosely, was a favorite pastime of the notoriously tough and insane Cornish miners grab each other by the collar and proceed to kick the ever-loving fuck out of each other's shins until one person quits.  Somehow, these fights are determined by the winner of two out of three matches, though I cannot envision how drunk one would have to be to do that more than once.  I would guess drunker than Robert Downey Jr when he broke into a neighbor's house and passed out in their kid's bed, which would leave me to believe this sport has its roots in drunks trying to liven each other up for the walk home after an epic day of drinking. 

    • Bartitsu.  This hundred-plus year old hybrid martial art has recently had a resurgence (possibly due to its popularization by the Art of Manliness website) and was mentioned several times in Sherlock Holmes stories.  Invented at the turn of the 20th Century by Edward William Barton-Wright, bartitsu was designed as a method of combat for English gentlemen that made use of stupid shit the English dandies of the time carried, like canes and umbrellas.  Equal parts jujitsu, schwingen (Swiss folk wrestling consisting mostly of giving your opponent a gnarly wedgie), savate, canne de combat, judo, and boxing.
    With that out of the way, onto training to fight, because knowing how to fight isn't worth shit if you're too weak and winded to impose your will on your opponent.

    Ancient Greek Pankratiasts
    Anyone else miss the old UFC/Vale Tudo rules?  Holy shit they ruled.  Everything permitted except eye gouging, fishhooking, and heatbutting?  YAAASSSSSS.  It was a time when Marco Rua used a foot stomp to win a fight, when people used to break their hands pounding their opponents into bloody hamburger, Wanderlei Silva earned his nickname "The Axe Murderer" for headbutting his way through an entire fight and had the ring looking like a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and dumbass felon Kimo carried a massive cross to the cage.  Well, if you were to put much more skilled fighters like you'd see in vale tudo into that cage and less like those you saw in the first couple of UFCs, you'd have the sport pankration, introduced to the Olympics in 673 BC and well known for being the most brutal thing going in the ancient world.  It was a sport so fucking vicious that it enabled the Spartans to slaughter Persians with nothing more than their bare hands, teeth, and shattered lances at Thermopylae, and it made the Greek hoplites into some of the most fearsome fighters in human history.

    This Richard Simmons-lookalike, bizarrely enough, is apparently the world's foremost authority on one of the hardest styles of martial arts ever invented.

    Pankration matches were essentially slaughterfests, as crawling away from a fight crippled or dropping dead in the midst of a fight were about as common as shit-filled underwear after a trip to all-you-can-eat Indian restaurants.  Pankratists weren't simply more vicious than a rabid dog with its nuts caught in a mousetrap, either- they were fucking strong, and many could kick straight through a 16 lb bronze and oak aspis (hoplite shield).  Given that this shield essentially turned the hoplite into a tank, kicking through one was no small feat, and receiving a kick with that kind of force could be fatal if you caught one in the chest.

    Secure in the knowledge that in order to be bone-shatteringly strong, the hyperviolent death machines of ancient Greece heaved around some weights in addition to training techniques and sparring balls out for hours a day.  Stone lifting and throwing were two of the favorite strength tests and methods for building the type of strength that would allow them to snap limbs even as they were being strangled to death, ancient Greek fighters, as was the use of proto-dumbbells called halteres.  Additionally, they spent a hell of a lot of time stretching, running, shadowboxing, and training their "core" (oh, how I fucking loathe that term).  For the latter, they had a method worth mentioning because it deserves to be featured in Rocky 48- they would strike a punching bag as hard as possible, then tense their body for impact as the rebounding bag would slam into them like a 19 ton truck into a crowd of unsuspecting Europeans (Nurse).  Compounding that would be the events of their daily lives, which often included military training and hard physical labor.  To develop their strength even further, the athletes of ancient Greece would run at the end of the day and perform rigorous bodyweight exercises to transform their bodies even further into unstoppable, Terminator-esque death machines... which they then used to conquer the known world and defeat the largest army ever assembled to that point (Brown).

    Indian Pehlwani
    I've written an entire series about how the Indians trained and dieted to become some of the most badass wrestlers and strongmen in the world from the dawn of recorded history until the British ripped their balls off and fed them to the Indians like some fucking kobayashi.  Rather than rehash it, I'll just link it: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5.  That might be the most comprehensive analysis of badass, old school, sweat-your-fucking-balls-off-and-eat-ghee-like-you're-getting-paid-to Indian pehlwan training ever written. Matt Furey's got nothing on me.  You're welcome.

    If you want the TLDR version, you need look no further than the epic Indian wrestling badass, a man so fucking tough that wrestling him was akin to attempting to fuck up King Kong while afflicted with turf toe, gingivitis, and full-blownsies AIDS- the Great Gama.  Gama was fucking jacked, especially for turn of the 20th century and a region now known for spindly limbs and potbellies.  Born in the Punjab in 1878, this one-man-wrecking-crew of mustachioed wrestling glory came to prominence in his very first public match at age 17, in which he fought a literal giant with enough wins under his belt to make Goldberg's record look less fanciful.  Though the match ended in a draw, Gama defeated him in a rematch and was then touted as the next champion and proceeded to lay waste to everyone in India except the Indian champion.

    After a quick trip to Europe to trash all of the wrestlers on the continent (his first match was against Benjamin Roller, who had defeated Farmer Burns and Ed "the Strangler" Lewis among others, and Gama pinned Roller in a minute forty), defeated 12 wrestlers in a single day, won a forfeit by legendary strongman and 2-time world champion Stanislaus Zbysko (whom he later beat in under a minute), and then returned to India to mangle the World Champion there.  By the time he was 48, Gama held the belt for the World Champion in the United States and India, and retired having fought to a couple of draws but never having been defeated, even when he wrestled over a dozen men in a single day. Among his victories, Gama counted wins over strongman, Olympic Weightlifter and strongman Maurice Deriaz (who once defeated 44 opponents in a single wrestling tournament), ripped Swiss champion and all-around badass Johan Lemm, a bunch of judo and jujitsu practitioners, and the greatest wrestlers (and some of the largest humans on the planet) in India.

    Undefeated for over 50 years, the Great Gama was renowned for his strength and even fitness fanatic Bruce Lee was reportedly a rabid fanboy of Gama's workout routine.  When I say renowned, I mean he was Mountain-from-GoT-strong.  At one point, Gama allegedly lifted a 2.5 foot tall stone weighing 2645 pounds in a bear hug, and his even the strongest of the European strongman wrestlers claimed the Great Gama was the strongest man they had ever faced.  Gama was strong in the way a tyrannosaur was strong- his levels of strength and strength endurance seem hardly possible.
    "To give you the scope of his commanding physical presence, Gama had 30-inch thighs and a 56-inch chest.  His daily routine is said to have included 3,000 bethaks (free squats), 1,500 dands (jackknifing pushups), and a one-mile run with a 120-pound stone ring around his neck.  In 1908, two years before he went to London to compete for the world championship belt, Gama's regimen was increased to 5,000 bethaks and 3,000 dands.  Every morning he would also work out by wrestling with 40 compatriot wrestlers in the roayl court.  He also began listing with a 100-pound grndstone and a santola (a wooden barbell made from a tree trunik).  His phenomenal diet and exercise regimen were meant to develop a pervasive  and subtle energy rather than just the kinetic power of particular muscle groups.  Even at the age of 50, Gama was still doing 6,000 bethaks and 4,000 dands every day and wrestling with 80 compatriots in the royal court" (Shannon 159-160).
    To fuel these lunacy-tinged training days, Gama reportedly drank two gallons of milk and ate one and a half pounds of crushed almonds a day,a dn by the time he moved to England, he was eating a hell of a lot of animal products as well. 
    "As he grew older his training routine was intensified and his diet upgraded to include meat, butter, clarified butter, and yakhi, which Alter describes as a "boiled down glutinous extract of bones, joints, and tendons, which is regarded by many Muslim wrestlers as being a source of great strength, and being particularly good for the development of knees, ankles, and other joints." The amounts eaten by the Indian champions were prodigious, and Barkat Ali gives, with what truth I don’t know, the mature Gama’s daily diet as six chickens or an extract of eleven pounds of mutton mixed with a quarter pound of clarified butter, ten litres of milk, half a litre of clarified butter, a pound and a half of crushed almond paste made into a tonic drink, along with fruit juice and other ingredients to promote good digestion" (Noble).
    In short, he trained like his hair was on fire and his ass was catching and ate his fucking face off, and in the end his win-loss record reflected his insane work ethic and prodigious appetite.

    I might even get the scoop on how these chicks train.

    Up next, more wacky and wild martial arts, plus catch-as-catch can / no holds barred training and the strength training methods of karateka.  Additionally, I'll be publishing a "Chaos and Pain Reads It So You Don't Have To" article summarizing the best of what training magazines have to offer these days, and then the conclusion to the fight training series, which will feature the training methods of boxers throughout the ages, the training methods of judoka, and whatever else I decide to throw in there.  Until then, get your ass in the gym and do something epic.

    Brown, Eric.  Ancient Greek athletic training.  Livestrong. 11 Sep 2017.  Web.  24 Sep 2017.

    Dileep, Srikanth.  A forgotten wrestling legend: Perhaps the greatest of them all.

    The Great Gama.  Wikipedia.  Web.  11 Oct 2017.

    Noble, Graham.  The lion of the Punjab- Gama in England, 1910.  Journal of Alternative Perspectives.  May 2002.  Web.  17 Oct 2017.

    Nurse, Paul McMichael.  Pankration: Martial Art of Classical Greece.  Fighting Arts.  Web.  23 Sep 2017.

    Shannon, Jake.  Say Uncle!: Catch-As-Catch Can Wrestling and the Roots of Ultimate Fighting, Pro Wrestling, and Modern Grappling.  Toronto: ECW Press, 2011.

    05 October 2017

    Halloween-tastic Music, Books and Movies- Brutality You Need To Check Out This Month

    Anyone who knows anything about me knows I like my movies, books, and music so brutal they cause pregnant broads to spontaneously miscarry, priests to become draped with pustulant boils and then burst into flames, and SJWs to just die instantly in response to the many triggers they witnessed.  October is the best month to revel in this, as it's Halloween month.  As such, I thought it high time to drop a new movies, books, and music installment for you guys to ensure you're similarly fortified against those people who want to replace our Samhain revelry with "Harvest Festival" and other assorted Christian nonsense.

    The TCM prequel Leatherface opens Oct 20th.  W00t!!


    With the onset of Halloween, it only stands to reason that we should all be neck deep in horror movies whenever we're not fucking, fighting, lifting, or working.  As I've spent most of the last year being a degenerate, party beast, horror movie afficianado, and having asked repeatedly for recommendations that yielded the exact same results each time (A Serbian Film, Haute Tension, Martyrs, etc), I'm in a unique position to throw you guys a couple of bones for the month.  Before we begin, I'll mention that not all of these films are gore-fests- some of them are cooler than Vanilla Ice on a sportbike without being so gory you'll puke in your shoes during the opening credits.  Yeah, I know it might come as a shock, but gore and horror movie excellence are not intertwined.

    Eat- I am generally a terrible, partying my ass off person and failed in every regard to relate to you the details of this little-known gem, but you guys should seriously heed my advice here.  The protagonist of this film is anorexic and only eats when stressed, and she's stressed because she sucks as an actress.  The result: she eats herself when angry, sad, stressed, or generally out of sorts.  If you see a tampon pop into view, be prepared for a fucking bloodbath with this one.  It starts off seemingly all fired up about the Backstreet Boys (the opening credits make it look like it's going to be a PG13 "horror" film directed by whatever hack is responsible for that travesty  and ends a FUCKING BLOODBATH.  Autosarcophagy happens in this film.  Watch it (it's on Amazon Prime this month!).

    August Mordem Underground- This is without a doubt the most fucked up movie I have ever seen, for those of you who are fans of Stepbrothers, you'll know what I mean when I say that this is my Good Housekeeping.  AMU follows three full-blownsies psychopaths as they torture, rape, and murder people out of what appears to be sheer boredom.  Clearly directed by a guy who loves hardcore and crust punk and literally starring a woman named Crusty, a woman, her brother, and her boyfriend (both of whom she fucks throughout the film) do all kinds of shit like rape a woman while forcing her husband to cut his cock off with cuticle scissors and beat peopless heads in with hammers (the gore effects are fucking solid).  AMU is fun for the whole family, provided your family has severe mental illness and more sexual pathologies than have ever been recorded in one household.  Highly recommended for anyone who was bored by Anti-Christ and thought A Serbian Film could have been a bit more intense.

    It Follows: This movie is a distinctly slow-burn type of film, wherein there's not a lot of action aside from a couple of relatively gore-less deaths, but I love this movie because I'm relatively old (the Blair Witch was the shit when I was in high school), it's an innovative take on the genre, the art in the movie is doper than Michaelangelo trying to impress buyers so he can score a kilo of meth, and I' ve come to enjoy slow-burn films.  In any event, the film centers around a sexually-transmitted demon who stalks people who have ducked people he's already trying to kill, and the only way to pawn him off on another is to fuck someone or kill the demon.  WATCH THIS SHIT.

    Inside- The French are useless.  They bitch about the Germans, continue their entirely baseless claims to preeminence in cuisine, preside over the worst remaining vestiges of the Colonial Era in a couple of the filthiest shitholes in the third world, and generally suck in every possible way... save two.

    Hardcore and brutal gorefest films are the only redeeming qualities in a country known only at this point for having terrible politicians, ghettos in Paris that make Mogudishu seem relatively nice, and a language that sounds like retarded people babbling while trying to dislodge the peanut butter stuck on to the roofs of their mouths.  The New French Extremity movement in French film is fucking awesome- it's brought us gems like Martyrs (a cabal of evil rich people who torture people in an effort to make them have a martyr's vision of the afterlife), Frontiers (a couple fights off a small army of neo-nazi family members with a love for The People Under The Stairs), and Irreversible (I Spit on Your Grave in a subway tunnel, with waaaaaaaaay more rape), more gore in action films, and generally more goodness in the world.

    Beatrice Dalle: 10/10 WB

    Inside continues that grand tradition with a film centered on a pregnant woman scheduled to induce labor the next day as she's under siege by a mysterious attacker who wants to rip that baby out and keep it for herself.  Given that the film's opening credits scene is nothing but blood and bits of body flowing down a staircase, you should expect this movie to be almost as brutal as it ends up. Almost.  Plus, this thing is directed by the guys who did the new TCM prequel Leatherface and stars the ultra-sexy Beatrice Dalle, so this is a must watch for the Halloween season.

    Would You Rather-  While I am exhausted beyond death with this trope and still find myself wandering about the movie landscape with nothing but hate in my heart for the now tired "we dare you to do this shit for some money but it's not a game and you're fucked forever", Would You Rather brings the goods in all the ways that shit like 13 Sins and Nerve (among a half a dozen other movies with the same fucking theme).  As the movie poster indicates, someone has to take a razor blade to their own eye in this film, the plot of which involves people competing to win a game of "Would You Rather" in which quitting means death and winning means certain disfigurement.  Brutal, well-paced, and highly entertaining.

    Houses That October Built- One of the best Halloween-themed films I've ever seen, as well as one of the coolest found-footage films ever, HTOB follows a group of apparently amateur documentarians on a cross-country road trip to find the most balls-crazy extreme haunt in the US.  As they dig deeper into a haunt that appears to be more legend than reality, they run afoul of a group of haunt workers who then terrorize them throughout their trip.

    Watch this shit if for no other reason than the Porcelain Doll chick, who is one of the freakiest characters in any horror movie I've seen- I must've jumped a foot out of my fucking seat during her scene, and I'd be surprised if people didn't attack that actress on the street just on general principle.  The sequel is out now, but I'm saving it for Halloween itself to watch- might as well have something I know is gonna be both new and baller for the big day.

    Megan Is Missing- This movie is exceptionally fucked up, and because shit like this apparently happens in the real world, it's all that much more disturbing.  The movie centers around a chick looking for a friend who disappears after meeting up with a guy from the internet.  She finds her alright, but it's as much to her chagrin as Justin Long's trip down the chute in Jeepers Creepers, and she ends up an unwilling participant in extreme BDSM porn and a variety of other unsavory activities.  Not for the squeemish, and probably not for anyone with a daughter.

    Pod- This indie gem is what sci-fi horror should be and rarely is outside of the Alien series.  Plenty of jump scares, numerous plot twists, great gore effects, and decent creature effects make for an awesome addition to anyone's horror library.  This film was unique enough to warrant a couple of rewatches, and I plan on checking out his two latest movies, the western-horror Carnage Park and serial killer-fest Psychopaths this month.

    If you haven't heard the Infant Annihilator album that dropped last year, you need to.

    I've discovered some shit that has me spinkicking squat cages and terrifying normies as I gorilla stomp around the gym, and I've got the best of that shit listed for your listening pleasure.  For the band/album I've either linked them on Amazon or Bandcamp (support the bands you like and buy their shit, people), and for the best song bits I've linked their Youtube so you can get an idea of how awesome their shit is.  Check this shit out and go destroy something beautiful.

    Clawhammer- Infernum In Terra
    Brutal slam beatdown done to perfection by Brits who want to see blood on the floor at shows. Pig squeals missed with Shattered Realm-esque hardcore vocals and gutteral lows, thesemotherfuckers bring it on every fucking track.  If you threw old Waking the Cadaver in a blender with the Hoods and a bit of One Life Crew, this is what you'd get... pure, unadulterated brutality.

    Most CNP song: Lynching (featuring Rob and Phips from Brawl Between Enemies)

    Enemy Mind- No Safe Place
    I love Pittsburgh, and I love PGH hardcore.  Any hardcore or metal band from the Steel City is guaranteed to fucking bring it, and Enemy Mind goes hard as fuck.  Bringing back the old jockcore / toughguy style from the mid-to-late 90s, Enemy Mind will fill the gap left in anyone's heart who misses Shattered Realm (with their original singer), Hoods, Irate, or NJ Bloodline, and will have you tearing the fucking gym apart while screaming along with EM's gruffer-than-gargled-glass vocals.

    Most CNP song: Dead WrongToughguy at its finest, rocking lyrics like "I hope you can run / skinny shit talking motherfucker run fast.  Chase your punk ass to the ends of the Earth / know when I catch you I'ma beat your ass.  Look at me / I'm the one that did this.  Close your mouth and mind your business.  Keep my name out yo mouth dude / whatcha gonna say when I come for you?"  Yes.  This is that kind of wignorant awesome.

    Nasty- Realigion
    The only badass thing to happen in Belgium beside their insane deathground stand against a German army that outnumbered them ten to one in the First World War is Nasty, who are rightly recognized as the kings of European hardcore.  Over the years, these lunatics have put out increasingly brutal albums and garnered a more and more rabid following, culminating in their newest album Realigion (I guess it's a religion of being "real").  Packed with more breakdowns and "blechs!" than anyone's ever manage to wedge into 30 minutes, this fucking thing goes hard to the paint and make you want to kick old ladies down the stairs and smash everything in sight.

    Most CNP songs: At War With Love and Rock BottomAll breakdowns and badassery, and the video is thoroughly entertaining.

    Built Upon Hatred- Tha Promo and S/T

    If you don't know what slam beatdown is, you really need look no fucking further than this band- super fucking brutal deathcore vocals, the occasional pig squeal, and lyrics so fucking tough you'd think they were a collaboration of Charles Bronson and Carl Panzram (I've listened to the Last Podcast on the Left series on the man twice in the last week because it's that fucking awesome) with some assistance from the singer of No Zodiac, who is the spiritual heir to Panzram.  I think I had these guys on shuffle all/repeat all for about three weeks of amazing lifting in July, and nothing makes weight less noticeable than Michael Cera's serum testosterone than pure, unadulterated hatred.

    Most CNP song: The Faults in my Peers.  Frankly, half the reason I love this song is because of the drop from Alpha Dog that's followed by a breakdown so brutal it might liquify your bowels the first time you hear it: "Fuck that- it's a promise.  No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I'm gonna hunt you down. I'm gonna hunt you down and then I'm gonna slit your throat and then I'm gonna cut you open and then I'M GONNA EAT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING HEART! YOU BETTER PRAY, JOHNNY YOU BETTER FUCKING PRAY THAT THE COPS FIND YOU BEFORE I DO! GET ON YOUR COCKSUCKING KNEES AND PRAY!"

    Clench Your Fist- Break the Jaw

    I am a massive Nasty fan, as you might know if you've been following the blog for a while, and I just realized that the reason I love this band so much is because they're basically just a Nasty clone... and I have no problem with that whatsoever.  Straight up beatdown hardcore the way it ought to be.

    Most CNP song: Kalasjnikov.  Want a song that is basically just a break down that continually gets broken down over and over until it's pure sludge to which you can make weights your doe-eyed bitch for a couple of minutes?  Fire up this fucking banger.

    Ded- Mis-An-Thrope
    I realize that all of the tr00 metal and hardcore bros reading this are about to get their panties in a bunch harder than a social justice warrior in strip club populated only by Eastern European transplants with daddy issues and racist tattoos, but I couldn't give less fucks, because sometimes nu-metal is a good time.  This is one of those times- Ded, in spite of their terrible name, is heavily influenced by hardcore bands (the singer even rocks a Trash Talk shit in one of their videos) and is reminiscent of early Slipknot.  We all know that S/T and Iowa-era Slipknot was the shit, and this band is a nice break from my constant beatdown and slam beatdown rotation.  Catchy hooks, not too much in the way of clean vocals, impressive percussion... this shit is something you could play while tearing ass down Rt 101 in California with the windows down when you needed something heavier than Pennywise to listen to.

    Most CNP song: FMFY.  Yeah, it's a little "Fuck you, you fuckin' fuck" style, but it's very reminiscent of Slipknot's epic banger "Heretic", so you really are obligated to like it in spite of the their stupid band name.

    Gassed Up- Conflict and Judgement EP
    Awesome beatdown wiggercore out of Britain.  Bust out your favorite flatbrim hat and get ready to punch anything nearby the second the track kicks in.  Imagine Fury of Five if they were worth a shit, E-Town Concrete if they didn't go softer than baby shit in an Indian monsoon, or Hacktivist if they were talented.

    Most CNP song: ConflictWignorance at its finest, with a random Michael Jackson riff in it to match the lyrics.  Doper than any street corner in a Philly ghetto.

    I just discovered Monster Hunter International is now a role playing game as well, which means I need to grab a 20 sided die this weekend and find a pack of nerds with whom I can play this.

    Much like with the other two categories, if I were to list all of the books I've read since the last installment, this would end up being a ten part series at the very least.  As such, I'll remind you guys that the Monster Hunter International series is phenomenal and still going, with Larry Correia teaming up with some of Baen's best authors to bring you super hard-boiled monster-slaughtering action.  Aside from that, I've been reading occult shit ranging from the The Black Book of Satan and Hands-On Chaos Magic (which is a pretty awesome book that utilizes a hell of a lot of neuro-linguistic programming) and The Wisdom of Eosphorus (which I highly recommend to anyone with any interest in the Left Hand Path) to The Book of Wotan (an excellent introduction and guidebook to Odinist practices that contains the full Havamal) and The Traveler's Guide to the Afterlife.  I've covered a lot of ground, very little of which has bothered with books about training because most of those books are either drier than a thousand year old Egyptian aristocrat or so derivative to the point of being offensive.

    Dave vs. the Monsters series by John Birmingham
    This series is similar in many regards to the MHI series I've mentioned above, but with more of a rough-edged, salt-of-the-Earth-meets-asshole-drunken-fuckboy-jock flair.  This series follows Earth's unlikely champion against the hordes of demons who think of humans as food, who proceeds to lay waste to them using his trusty maul named Lucille.  Amidst all of this, "the Dave" drinks and fucks his way to fame, chilling with celebrities and shirking whatever duties the government heaps upon him.  Yeah, these books are fucking tits, and you need them in your life.

    Every Single Book by Joe Abercrombie
    I've been trying to come up with my favorite book by Joe Abercrombie, and I'm at a loss.  Every one of his books is perfect preworkout material, as his books are filled with badass quotes and the kind of hack-and-slash action that gets your blood pumping and makes you want to fuck shit up.  Not only are the characters in his stories witty as hell, but their casual philosophical nature makes for great brain candy and food for thought, as well as providing badassery for maximum pumpitude in the gym.  Behold:
    • “Love is a fine cushion to rest upon, but only hate can make you a better person.” 
    • “You should laugh every moment you live, for you'll find it decidedly difficult afterwards.”
    • “Suffering is what gives a man strength, my boy, just as the steel most hammered turns out the hardest.”
    • “Truly, life is the misery we endure between disappointments.” 

    Honour Imperialis (Warhammer 40k Omnibus) by by Aaron Demski-Bowden, Rob Sanders, and Steve Lyons
    Warhammer novels are very hit and miss, in my experience, but this omnibus was amazing from start to end.  I can't imagine any of you are unfamiliar with Warhammer, so I'll just say these books are twice as well-written and violent as any other Warhammer novels ever put to paper, and if you pass this omnibus by you will regret it on your deathbed.  It's that good.

    The Silence- Time Lebbon
    By far and away the best horror novel I've read in the last few years, The Silence combines the best parts of Night of the Living Dead and Pitch Black to produce the most unique horror plot I've ever read.  A team of spelunkers uncovers a new cave system in Romania and unwittingly release a new, horrible creature into the outside world.  This creature is essentially a blind, flying rat with a chainsaw for a mouth that hunts and destroys the slightest sound, laying eggs in the corpses of its victims that hatch at further sounds or vibrations.  The story follows a family who knows sign language because the daughter is deaf, and they utilize that to remain alive during an apocalypse the world was ill prepared to handle.

    So there you have it- shit that will entertain you through this awesome season, fuel epic lifts, and stoke the fires of your soul to ensure that you crush your opposition and destroy everything they hold dear.

    Up next, part one of my Fustigation Fury: Fight Training from the Primeval to the Present series.  That one is shaping up to be epic, so keep your eyes peeled for it to drop Sunday or Monday.