Nothing Is True; Everything Is Permitted: Part 2

Having grown up in the hardcore scene of the 1990s, the DIY ethic was as deeply instilled in me as horse cock in a My Little Pony fan during a party in Mexico.  For those of you who think DIY started with HGTV and home improvement shows, it actually arose out of the punk scene and then got co-opted by midwestern housewives.  Instead of mousy, over-eager women, the DIY culture was initially nothing but smelly fuckers who used that shitpile crystal deoderentno one liked at shows used to sell terrible vegan baked goods and print zines giving info about the punk (and later the hardcore) scene.  Because those genres of music weren't popularly accepted, there was no other way to get info on the scene, so these little do-it-yourself magazines provided us with info on upcoming shows, reviews about albums we probably hadn't heard (with a horrifying emphasis on krishnacore in the zines I generally read), and a whole spate of political commentary so left leaning that even Bernie Sanders would have called the writers fucking communists.

They might like terrible music, but crust punk broads are so fucking hot it defies my ability to describe them.

In spite of their ridiculous socio-political and religious leanings, those unwashed, crust punk loving gutter trash had a do-it-yourself ethic that would make even the most robust and well-prepared survivalist nut seem like a collectivist pussy by comparison.  They slapped together those zines using xerox machines and typewriters, illustrating the things with their own hand and selling them as diligently and arduously as any salesman in the history of commerce.  That ethic so permeated the scene that there was no thought of bands having managers or roadies, or any other crutch or convenience that a band today has.  Beyond that, we'd make our own bootleg merch to support bands we liked that lacked shirts to buy, just to show our love.  Everything we did was DIY as fuck, and we were all better people for it.

“We do not aspire to communal life but to a life apart.”

- Max Stirner

So where does this take us?  Create your own fucking system.  Stop following the motions of others and be innovative.  Like the occultists Michael Ford and Phil Hine; pioneering martial artists like Edward Barton-Wright, Bruce Lee, and Al Decascos; and like the numberless lifters throughout history who managed to build super strength without the aid or opinion of a single other soul, I like to experiment with a lot of different systems and use them as they seem appropriate.  Thus, I'll switch between bodybuilding, bodyweight, powerlifting, and strongman in the same workout.  Why anyone would think that combining the different disciplines would do anything other than improving their physique and overall strength I will never know, but with the spate of ridiculous sport-specific training programs floating around, it seems that what was once a standard for training (and during which time both powerlifting and Olympic Weightlifting were far more competitive) has become for many on the internet a bizarre and laughable sidenote.

If there's a single person claiming to have the balls to call this motherfucker a manlet to his face, I would die of fucking shock at the stupidity of the act and the brazenness of their lie.

Why any male human being totaling under 1200 in the power lifts would think he is above anything training-wise at all is a mystery we will likely never solve.  It does illustrate, however, that a pack of hoopleheads sharing "information" they've gleaned from often shit-dog and generally disreputable sources on internet forums avail themselves of nothing other than the abject fucking stupidity of the average intellect.  Certainly, it bears saying that a focus on one of the disciplines makes sense, lest one become a jackass of all and a master of none, but a mere focus in one hardly precludes participation.  Furthermore, it 

"is worth going into a system in some depth, so that you become more or less competent (and confident) with it, but magicians tend to find that once you’ve become competent in one system, then it’s easier to get to grips with another one. If you’re fairly experienced with Enochian for example, then you shouldn’t have too much difficulty with the Runes" (Hine 18)

One needs look no further than a guy like Phil Grippaldi (the "manlet" pictured above) for evidence of this.  Perhaps the greatest presser in the history of that Olympic lift, Grippaldi boasted a physique that would leave every Redditor wailing and gnashing their teeth, moaning about steroids as their tongues lolled at the sight of the man's retarded 20 inch arms.  Maybe 20 inch arms are common in your gym, but I think I've only seen a couple of sets in my life, and they weren't possessed by a guy weighing less than 200 lbs.  Grippaldi included all kinds of bodybuilding and powerlifting in his training, and his lifts and physique serve as substantiation of this phenomenon.  If you need more evidence, just look at Ronnie Coleman, pretty much any strongman ever, Kirk Karwoski... the list goes on and one.  So shut the fuck up about how bodybuilding is useless shit because that lie is more tired than I am of fucking hearing it.

I was gonna post a pic of a pre-gear bodybuilder who was also an accomplished weightlifter, but in my search for a pic I stumbled across Reddit and Bodybuilding.com conversations so fucking insipid that I decided to post a pic of how I'd like the profile pics of the conversations' participants to look.  Seriously, I want "natty or not" pussies to impregnate a woman so I can rip it out of her womb and beat them to death with the corpse of their unborn children.

Which brings us, in a very long-winded and roundabout way, to how I decide to train and diet the way I do.  This series was actually spawned by the following conversation, which I might as well impart just to cut through further bullshit. 

Q: Man, I’m really curious about your thought process, like do you just come up with stuff and try it?  How do you know what to eat? 

A: Yesterday, I ate 2 lbs of baby back ribs, a shitload of korean bbq, a couple of bowls of rice doused in sriracha, and a couple of protein bars.  Why?  Because I was fucking hungry, and I've been training like a maniac, and that's what I needed. 

Some of it I come up with and try, like the rowing I've been doing a couple of times a week.  The rest of it I just go fucking crazy in the gym and figure out why it worked thereafter.  Why it worked is generally simple, though- it really comes down to effort.  

Diet is a little more intellectual, as I keep a sort of running total of grams of protein and calories as I go.  And no, I don't use any of those stupid fucking apps- I do the math in my head, like an adult with dignity and self respect.  This shit is so fucking simple I'm hard-pressed to expand on it further. 

Q: How much time do you give an idea to know if it works? 

A:  Lol.  Are you serious?  It always works- the only time shit doesn't is when I am doing something I know for a fact doesn't suit me, like training in the 10-12 rep range all the time.  That's why I can't figure out how the fuck you people suck at it so hard.   

I could win a local meet coming out of a coma, and I look better getting out of bed after two years of sporadic training, no dieting, and drinking at an essentially suicidal rate because when I train, I go ten times as hard as you could ever conceive and even train harder on my off days than just about anyone I've seen on a "hard" day.  When I eat, I eat to grow- this is not fucking rocket science.   

If you think you've gone as hard as you can go, go fucking harder the next time.  You're basically indestructible, and most people will never even reach a fifth of their potential, just because they think they can't go harder.  And I don't want to hear about steroids and genetics and whatever other paltry fucking excuse you might have- you go to a Penn State wrestling camp and do three-a-days, plus lifting and running, and then tell me you go hard in the gym.  Everyone's a fucking pussy, and that's why they suck. 

Eat meat.  Lift heavy as fuck.  Jerk off a bunch.  Repeat.  It's that fucking simple.

So there you have it- you don't need a plan for shit.  Less talky.  More doey.

Juls Borg- metal as fuck and breaking fools while their bitches drool.

In the next one I'll actually go into my diet of late a bit, but before that I'll have an interview with a guy I coached over the last year to a 1504 raw total at 181 in hist first meet... nine months into training.  It is that fucking easy, people.