To avoid having to check this page every ten seconds for updates on supplements, music, and sundry little details, hit us up on Facebook and like the page. That'll keep you updated without getting spammed with a million twitter-length posts!
28 July 2010
Hooligan Horrorshow- Glen "The Angriest Motherfucker Alive" MacCharles
Deep in the wilds of Canada there exists a man that's the most pure physical embodiment of hatred since Albert Johnson capped a bunch of mounties from his bunker in the frozen wastelands of the very same nation in which Glen MacCharles resides. Given that my training philosophy is open sourced, and I'm sure you people are all curious about what one another does or doesn't do in terms of training and diet, I thought I'd start posting some bios to facilitate mutual learning.
What have I learned from Glen? It is apparently possible to thrive on little more than hatred and milk. Additionally, this is the way to obtain the physique of a turn of the century strongman, which is essentially what Glen's rocking. Motherfucker looks bizarrely like a modern day Edward Aston, if you mixed in a bit of the wacky redheaded guy from Braveheart and 13th Warrior for good measure.
Your name is Scottish as all hell. Do you live in Scotland?
I live in Hamilton, Ontario. I think this city might have the highest per capita of retards, it's great. It's also (and this one is a fact) got the most Tim Horton's Donuts shops than anywhere else in the world. I live in the fucking ghetto too. My house overlooks the playground where all the "gangsta" wannabes spend all day drinnking beer. That playground is full of broken glass. I thought I hated the human race before I moved here three and a half years ago. I was wrong. The more I see of these cracked out bling bling clowns the more I truly believe that a full scale nuclear holocaust is the only answer. Just destroy it all and rebuild from scratch if there's anything left at all. If I didn't have a responsibility to my wife and kids I really think I'd eventually just go out there and start beating the shit out of them with a handful of broken glass in each hand.
You're a fucking maniac. What the fuck is Wipeout?
Wipeout is a gameshow on TV where contestants have to make it through a series of obstacle courses to try and win $50,000. There's no second place on that show so you either win or get nothing. The whole point of the show seems to be about injuring and humiliating everyone on it. Right up my alley.
That sounds about as much like anything I know about you as chocolate seems to go with cellophane and carpet cleaner. In any event, what's your diet and program looking like these days? Any PRs you feel like mentioning?
My diet is extremely simple. I've just never had any interest in junk food. Even as a kid I used to trade my Hallowe'en candy away to my sisters. I just didn't want it. Consequently, I'm the only one out of my brothers and sisters that doesn't have a problem with being a fatass. On a typical weekday I eat: Breakfast Three raw eggs in a glass of chocolate milk with olive oil, honey and peanut butter. I blend this all together in a Magic Bullet.
Ham and pastrami on whole wheat with lettuce and mayonnaise and a 710 ml pop bottle full of milk.
Same as first break.
Some kind of fruit, usually a banana but I like apples too.
When I get home I eat whatever my wife puts in front of me. Some staples include steak, porkchops, Hamburger Helper, chicken fettucine alfredo, roast beef pot roast. She's a fucking awesome cook. When I was a kid my mom didn't even cook at all. Her mother used to cook, send the food over to my house and then my mom would reheat it. By the time I was in the second grade or so she didn't even do that anymore so I grew up eating whatever bullshit I could prepare for myself. I ate a lot of cereal, sandwiches, minute rice, Kraft Dinner, that sort of crap. I was a pretty scrawny kid. But all of that just makes me appreciate a good homecooked meal that much more now. I don't necessarily have a huge appetite but I love eating.
My program doesn't really look like anything. I like a lot of different exercise protocols and I like a lot of different rep ranges too. Sometimes I lift weights, sometimes I lift sandbags or kegs, sometimes I just do a lot of pushups and squats. Lots of sets, lots of reps, lots of weight.
As far as PRs, well, I backlifted a steel beam at work a few weeks ago that, according to the order, weighed 3000 lbs. Orders always overestimate the weight so it was probably actuallu in the mid to high 2000s but still pretty good if you ask me. I press big pieces of steel over my head at work all the time. You're supposed to use the crane for anything over 50 lbs but fuck that. So far the heaviest piece I've presses overhead was 208. I might have done more than that but never calculated the weight for it. I've done more than that on a barbell before but big pieces of steel are way more fun.
Some of my best lifts are
Behind the Neck Push Press 315
And I really like wrist curls so I regularly use 135 or more in that exercise. My forearms are way out of proportion to my upper arms. It's awesome.
Since everyone will be wondering, I may as well get it out of the way, so the comments look less gay- what are your vital statistics (height/weight/age)? As far as vital statistics, I'm 32 years old, married with three kids (11 year old boy, a five year old daughter and a four year old daughter. The girls were born exactly 362 days apart. Including miscarriages, I kept my old lady consistently pregnant for about three years.), 5'8" tall and my weight fluctuates between 180 and 190 depending on how hard I'm pushing myself in the weightroom. I've been working out for about 15 years and competing in strongman contests for seven years.
Like me, you appear to be of the opinion that it is better to hated than beloved. I could fill a book with stories about my efforts to retain my "Most Fucking Hated" title, which I wear proudly. Most recently, I found myself getting cockblocked by a fat chick at a bar, who I handed two bucks and told to her fat ass over to McDs for a couple of things off the dollar menu, as it appeared that her blood sugar was getting low, and she was being a cunt. The fat chick then pitched a fucking fit, and got me 86'd from yet another bar. Any stories of that ilk you feel like sharing?
I would definitely rather be hated than loved. It's way more fun. There are a small handful of people in this world whose opinions about me actually matter as far as I'm concerned. My wife and my kids. Anybody else can fuck right off. My mother never loved me and told me I was a mistake all the time growing up. She was right though, I was a mistake. People shouldn't keep babies like me. A lot of people cry about shit like that but I never really cared. I figured it out pretty early and simply moved on. She had gotten herself pregnant and asked my dad if she should get an abortion. He told her to do what she thought was best so she went and got one. He must have seemed upset or something after because she deliberately got herself knocked up again immediately afterward to make it up to him. Well, I guess this must have really pissed him off and he apparently accused her of being batshit crazy which, if you ask me, she was. Anyway, their marriage broke up before I was even born and I am the living representation of that failure. I was also hated by most of my peers at school. It made me feel good after a while though. Sooner or later you realize that if hatred is what they want, hatred is what they can have. Being completely surrounded in hatred myself, I had nothing to lose as far as I was concerned so I became the biggest asshole I could possibly be and treated everyone like shit. I started to learn about how fragile the human ego is, how easily a person can be hurt, and I exploited it as often as possible. By the time I was finished high school I was blacklisted from any and all house parties in the east end because everyone knew I'd walk into a house and destroy the whole place, literally just trash the place, without giving it a second thought. I'd smash the fuck out of kitchens, bedrooms and bathrooms, start wrestling matches in the living room, steal shit, hide people's shoes, anything to encourage general chaos. Nobody seemed to be able to figure it out, why I would do shit like that. But the way I saw it, I was nobody before, just some piece of shit to be shoved out of the way or pointed out to be laughed at. Now I was one of the most hated individuals in their lives. I could fuck them over constantly and there was nothing they could do about it because I literally didn't give a shit about their feelings.
Some of the younger crowd would pool all their money together and give it all to me with a list of shit they all wanted from the liquor store. I'd turf the list and just fuck off with their money every time. I got away with that one several times before they just stopped giving me money. The more hate I created, the more I wanted. It was never enough. I had to keep pushing the envelope further and further. To a certain extent I still do even though I have grown up some since those days. Now I'm content to just be an all around asshole.
I'm not sure if Glen's pissed about his choice in footwear or the fact that someone replaced his dog with a muppet. Maybe he just really has to shit.
In your opinion, is there any cardio worth doing other than fucking?
Well, nothing beats a good sportfucking but I've been known to run, jump rope and do high-rep bodyweight exercises from time to time. This one time, three friends of mine and I were drinking at a baseball diamond in the middle of the night and some goof came walking over out of the bushes asking for a smoke or a light or some other such shit. One of my friends started swinging at him almost right away. The thing is, when this guy went down, my other two friends ran over to get in on the beatdown and this guy was fighting from his back like he was a goddamned superhero. Throwing kicks and insults in every direction. Normally I prefer not to bother getting involved in swarmings but this time was different. I figured I'd circle around towards his head and just stomp him right the fuck out since nobody else could get the fucking job done. Well, I couldn't hit the fucking guy either! It was like tryiong to stomp on a squirrel. He eventually made it to his feet and ran off down the block. We chased him for a bit but I already knew we had no chance of catching him. He turned around at a corner way the fuck up ahead of us, pulled up his shirt and shouted, "You're not in shape!" I started to take cardio training a bit more seriously after that night. I was already pretty lean and strong but shit, I used to be a 100m sprinter on the track team as a young kid and I couldn't even catch this crackhead because I was "not in shape." Had I maintained my running ability I might have been able to catch that douchebag and wrap his face around a No Parking sign or something. It was humiliating. We nicknamed that fuckhead Spiderman but I've never seen him again since. So for just general health or fat loss, any type of cardio will do fine and if you lift weights with any effort at all you can probably get by with just that. And in most people's cases, they never should have allowed themselves to become fatfucks in the first place. Ten minutes three times a week on a treadmill isn't going to reverse 10 years of sitting on the couch elbow deep in a bag of chips every fucking day.
Is there anyone you'd like to murder, or fuck, or both, in front of a million people?
There are so many that I don't think I can narrow it down to just one. There is a guy who tried to use my wife and kids against me during a flame war because he's an obviousl chickenshit pussy who takes his online time very seriously. I think he'd be good fun to beat to death in front of a million people. He lives at 31 Old Westford rd., Chelmsford, Ma 01824 but I can't be bothered traveling all the way there just to knock out a few teeth and then come all the way back home. In a perfect world though he'd be right around the corner and living in a wheelchair today. My kids could use him as a toy. Beyond that, I plan on fighting anyone I see after I die, if there is an afterlife that is. So whether it's God, Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Satan, Vishnu or just some other tool, he's getting punched straight in the fucking face the moment we lock eyes.
Lastly, Fuck/Marry/Kill- Your mom, your dad, and a random stray dog. Reasons?
My dad's already dead so he's out. If he wasn't so fucking old while he was alive he might have been fun to fight to the death. He was 80 when he died a few years ago but was apparently a badass motherfucker when he was young. I want proof. I've got no use for my mom so she can fuck right off. Fucking her would not be very exciting. She's told me and just about everybody else I know all about the night she lost her virginity more times than I can count. Apparently she was so scared shitless that she made her first husband wait until the second night of their honeymoon and then closed her eyes, spread her legs, squeezed the bedposts and cried the entire time because of how much it hurt. Doesn't that sound like fun? Marrying her is also out of the question. She has no idea how to coexist with other humans. I can understand being generally displeased with the race as a whole. Most human beings make me want to scream so loud that the planet implodes. I understand treating people like shit too because it makes you feel good. But cultivating misery within your own home makes very little sense to me. She fucked up two marriages and every other relationship she ever had already. I don't even wat to kill her because I might actually get more enjoyment watching her die of self-loathing all by herself. As for a stray dog, Hell, I'd rather be a stray dog than a human being. Maybe I'll marry that one.
... and that will about cover it. We are all better people for having basked in the glow of Glen's hatred, which likely has consumed the galaxy at this point. In any event, this is what this blog's all about- spreading the fucking knowledge, and coming to the conclusion that there's more than one way to skin a fucking cat in the gym, provided that it's more work you're doing, and not less.