*Get Fucking Motivated! Randomness, Volume 2.

So, runes aren't your bag? Well, they work like a motherfucker for me. If that's not gonna get you psyched, here are some other suggestions.

Pray about it. I don't mean that you should fall to your fucking knees in the middle of the gym, weeping and wailing and acting like a fucking general asshole, but just think a silent prayer to whatever gods of your ancestors you might want to beseech. In my opinion, if you're head's in the wrong place, this sort of thing is a good idea, as at the very least, it gets you focussed. You might not get any magical boost in power from a fantastical source, but you will get your head right before a big lift.

I personally don't recommend Yahweh for this job- he's pretty much the patron saint of skinny martyrs and slaves. If that offends you, suck it up- it's the truth. I'm of the opinion you should get a little more old school in your prayers, and think back to when big, brutal motherfuckers roamed the Earth seeking good old fashioned adventures chock full of brigandage, with the rapine and pillaging and the beheadings. making the streets run red with rivers of Ron Burgundy's blood. That sort of thing. If you're of Jewish descent though, and you really need the old Semitic god of Thunder, salt pillars, and spite on your side, you might want to read up on the Old Testament and find the appropriate passages.

For the rest of you, I suggest picking a god of your heritage and giving him or her big ups. Why? I think it activates some primal part of your brain, the kind of brain that doesn't give a fuck about helping old ladies across the street, but just wants to break shit and ruin lives.

Some suggestions:

Norse/Germanic:
Tyr- The god of single combat, and pretty much the hardest person of Germanic blood ever to walk the Earth, this motherfucker is the MAN for psyching up for lifts. ChAoS&PAIN approved, right here. As he had one hand bitten off by a giant wolf in an effort to save the Earth, maybe a good choice for unilateral lifts...


Thor- Norse god of thunder, this badass slab of Germanic muscle is generally acknowledged as a true hardass, and would be a great patron god of GPP work with the sledge, since he's known to slay motherfuckers with a bigass hammer.

Freya- Goddess of love, sex, war, and beauty, she's important to pretty much everything that involves testosterone.

Japanese:
Hachiman- The Japanese god of war, this motherfucker brooks no shit from anyone. If there was ever a Japanese person capable of squatting a house WHILE disemboweling his mother-in-law for running her mouth, it's him.

Hindu:

Shiva- It gets no better than Shiva, since he is the destroyer of worlds. Use his power to destroy gym records.

Russian:

Perun- The head of the Slavic pantheon, Perun is pretty much a combination of Tyr and Thor, only he carries a big assed axe and crushes serfs under his boots.

Aztec:
Camaxtli/ Mixcoatl- The Aztec gods of war and hunting. Kind of a pain in the ass to deal with in the gym, as they were generally given human sacrifices. Maybe a weak lifting partner? Up to you.

I don't get it either.

Xochipilli- Aztec god of competition and beauty, a perfect fit for bodybuilders in particular. If you love lucha libre and have a bug up your ass to be oily and in a thong in front of your friends, he's your man.

Celtic:

Dagda- This Irish fucker could kill 9 men at once with his magical club, and is the Celtic father god. Good times.


Morrigan/ Nemian- Irish fitness competitors should be psyched about this broad, as she is the Celtic goddess of war, and is associated with the Valkyries, who were badass bitches, not unlike The chicks in the movie D.O.A., hot and hard as nails.

Greek/ Roman:

Herecles- You know who he is. Recognize.

Enyo- A goddess of was thought to have been the mother or sister of Ares, usually pictured toplessx, covered in blood, and carrying weapons.

Hermes/ Mercury- Patron gods of greasy-haired athletes.

Apollo- Much like the god of lucha libre enthusiasts listed above, only for those who believe that Windex cures all ills, or those who call marinara sauce "gravy", Baldur was the god of beauty. the Frank Zane of the gods.

Next time- magic stones, and a bunch of other random shit. The key, however, is that motivation can pretty much come from anywhere... it's just all about finding out what works for you, and then using that to crush the opposition.

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*If this doesn't fucking motivate you...

nothing will. By request, my safety bar squats, in a cast. Bear in mind when watching the rather high nature of this effort that it was the third time I had safety bar squatted, so all you ATG guys, settle the fuck down. While I'm at it, I'd like to mention that the ATG guys couldn't even manage to stand under this weight anyway, so their point is fucking moot 9 times out of 10 anyhow. ATG is an acronym, for those who don't know, for "ass to grass", and a clandestine way of explaining why the person claiming ATG can't outsquat a six year old girl with polio.




By the way, unless you want to watch me wander around for a minute, fast forward about 2/3 of the way. I have neither the interest, nor the software, to edit that thing, haha.

The moral of this video is that nothing, not even a botched tricep surgery and a cast and a shitload of demerol, should get in the way of a good squat workout. Or at least a heavy squat workout. Heavy, for all intents and purposes, equals good.


That is all.

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*Get Fucking Motivated! Randomness Vol. 1

Here I was, perusing a bunch of New Age books in search of alternative methods of getting so pumped up that you could slaughter legions of your enemies, Arnold-in-Commando-style, when it occurred to me that I knew of a way, right offhand, that'd work. From there, I built it up into a wide array of odd motivations which you guys might or might not use, but I'll wager my right testicle and all 34 cents in my pocket that you'd find interesting enough to put off the completion of that excel spreadsheet you're working on long enough to read this.

My very first tattoo was an effort to utilize the religion of my ancestors to my benefit in the gym. My ancestors, if you couldn't guess by opening your eyes and looking at me, were Germanic, and they took no shit from anyone. Their religion centered upon this general theme as well, and though they didn't impose it upon the peoples who they conquered and slaughtered, because clearly they weren't man enough to worship Germanic Gods, they used it to their benefit daily. My tattoo? Two runes in elder Futhark that serve as a bindrune of my own creation consisting of runic wishes and talismen whose power I evoke my using incantations, and by wearing them. Now, that might serve as some wacky fucking witchcraft horseshit to you, but I'd imagine Benny Podda would be right there next to me ripping out your entrails and feeding them to your children as an object lesson if you found yourself making light of them. Why? They fucking work, for one, and they're fucking metal, for another.

Lemme tell you why. For one, I believe they work. Whether or not that is a placebo effect or not is immaterial, because the outcome is the same. For another, it's in my blood to believe in them and use them. The Norse and Germans utilized the Runes, which were discovered by Odin after impaling himself upside down with his own speak onto the Tree of Knowledge for them, and after ripping out one of his eyes as payment for other knowledge. the man was a fucking beast. Anyway, they were used from pre-Christian times until the 13th Century, were primarily used for divination and runestones, and consist of 24 letters (in Elder Futhark, one of three runic types).

My tat consists of two runes- Teiwaz (Tyr) and Uruz. Tyr is the creator god of the Germanic peoples, and warriors used to call upon him to grant them courage and righteousness to secure victory. He was a model of masculine honor and courage and his rune was the phallic symbol of procreative energy, so as you can imagine, this is the perfect badass to call upon in times of strength events or epic nights of fucking. In addition to invoking courage and brutal hardons, Tyr is connected with the astrological symbol Libra (my symbol), and the color red, like the blood of your enemies, or the color all over your shins after a set of deads so brutal your kids are left retarded and the bar has to be brushed with a brillo pad to disinfect it. In essence, my ideal fucking symbol.

Uruz signifies an aurochs, and for those of you who don't know, they were wild bulls that roamed Europe until the 17th Century and were described as "slightly smaller than an elephant" by Julius Caesar, not a man given to a great deal of hyperbole. Uruz means strength, courage, skill, and determination, and represents primal force.

Together, they fill you will all of the badassitude of ten Chuck Norrises, and that's why I put them on my wrist. When I feel like I need a little boost, I concentrate on those symbols, which I conveniently located on my wrist so I can see them while lifting, and it's on like fucking Donkey Kong.

That's just one of the many things I use to pump me up for a lift, and an idea of the kind of wacky shit you fuckers can use to get you psyched. In an effort to cover all of the bases, I've done a bunch of research on alternative methods to become a bonafide Godzilla of lifting, and shall share them with you in installments, as it's been brought to my attention that my blogs typically rival David Copperfield in length, and as I find Dickens to have been a verbose hack with no skill whatsoever at writing, I'll shoot for brevity and keep this one to half a million words. More to come, fuckers...

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Now playing: On Broken Wings - On Violins

**Shit You've Never Tried Before #1- Steinborn Squats

Though it's been talked about on other sites before, I doubt you've ever had Steinborn Squats presented to you quite like this. First off, I'll mention that the following pics were taken of me when I lived in the frozen hellhole known as Cleveland, several years, about ten pounds, and several percentage points of bodyfat ago. That stated, I'm no Johnny Come Lately to this fucking exercise. I'm not saying I was there when Henry Steinborn invented the fucking things, but Ive been doing them longer than anyone at Diesel Crew or Straighttothebar, insofar as I know, and this exercise is a fucking man-maker.

Before I get into the whys and wherefores of how they're done, I'll tell you why I do them, why they were invented, and why I'm posting this blog, after so many fucking yahoos have blathered on about the exercise.

First, I'm posting this because some whiny bitch on Bodyspace was bemoaning the fact that he couldn't squat because he had no rack, and innumerable goofballs suggested such retarded shit as loading the barbell onto a dip station. Don't bother with any of that. Be a fucking man and do a Steinborn Squat.

These things were invented for the simple reason that no one had a squat rack back in the day, and Henry Steinborn was too fucking manly to be bothered with silly shit like leg presses, sissy squats, or leg extensions. Instead, he loaded up a fucking barbell and manned the goddamned thing up. Eventually, that fucker was Steinborn squatting 500 lbs, and being generally so fucking hard that babies wilted and died in his presence and women would involuntarily give up their virginity to him.

Why'd I start doing them? I read about them, and Steinborn, in an old school lifting book and they looked like someone who wanted to eat plate steel and shit pins would do. Thus, I began doing them, and my lifting partner decided to take pics to try out his new camera.

How to do them:

1. Be a fucking badass.


2. Load up a barbell with at least 135, and put on collars. tight collars. In fact, collars are the limiting factor here, which is why I'm only using 225 in the pics. 315 kept pushing the collars off, and I didn't have any good locking collars.


3. Stand bar on one end.


4. Lean into bar with legs bent.


5. Set bar onto your traps, and bend legs further, pulling the bar into place on your back.


6. By now, you should be in a full squat with the bar on your back. Start squatting.


7. Reverse all the steps to get it back onto the ground.


8. Rape and pillage.

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Stallone is the FUCKING MAN

Some goofball called bullshit on Stallone's 62 years and tats in a recent blog, so I've linked this. He looks fucking awesome, and his ink is real.

If this guy can train like this and look like this, so can you.

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*It's All About the Little Things...

I've been hitting legs three or four times a week for a few weeks now, and my legs look fucking phenomenal. Lots of people, however, have been calling bullshit, and been all-around general naysayers, which I find hilarious, since they are such pussies they cannot believe someone could man the fuck up and get after it. There's not a lot of secrets here- it's mostly just building up your tolerance for frequent training, and busting your ass. I don't bother with any fucking jogging, biking, or any other so-called warmups, and my warmups always consist of singles, doubles, or triples.

I bet this fat bitch likes doing high rep lifting, too.

That's right. Singles, doubles, and triples, dead cold. I have no idea why anyone would practice differently than they play, and I know for a fact that you cannot use the same form you'd use on a heavy single for reps. It just doesn't work. Thus, my leg workouts will look a lot like my partial squats workout last Friday, and it went as follows.

Quarter Safety Bar Squats
1x1x235
1x1x415
1x1x595
1x1x685
1x1x775
1x1x865
12x1x955

I did the warmups as with only as much rest as it took to walk 5 feet to the water fountain, drink, and then load the next weight. My singles were done with rests ranging from 30 to 90 seconds. The entire thing was done within 40 minutes, all told, even with taking a leak, and my "warmup"

Oh, but YOU said YOU DON'T WARM UP.

I don't, really. What I do is repeatedly slather the highest-strength Target brand Muscle Rub or Tiger balm all over any sore bodyparts until they're on fire, and massage the living fuck out of them while I do so.

That's how you get it done, and how you get the fuck after it with a minimum of bullshitting. I have no time for stationary bikes, treadmills, or any other assorted repetitious nonsense, but I certainly have time for lifting hard and heavy, and for Icy Hot. Mmmmmmmm. Menthylated goodness.

Now, go squat. Pics of the wheels of a cripple should inspire you.


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Wanna-be Necromancer and Randomly Herbal Pharmacist

Though I don't really have a handle on raising the dead yet, I've got a couple of other tidbits to share with you from time to time, which my friends typically pass on to me as they know I will try just about anything to become superhuman.

Today's odd herbal concoctions consist of remedies for joint health after severe trauma and one for depression. I personally don't get depressed, but tried one of the supps as a kind of herbal adderal and it worked, and then suggested it to someone who was coming off cymbalta and it worked like a fucking charm.

Fuck Joint Pain!

It sucks, and it's stupid, much like my current elbow injury.
So my 20 staples aside, what to do when faced with this sort of catastrophic bullshit? Take 3 grams of MSM, 1500 mg. of Vitamin C, a handful of a good digestive enzyme like Wobenzyme or Medizyme, and 5 grams of L-Glutamine, on an empty stomach, thrice daily. Swelling and pain go bye-bye, and doctors marvel at your striking resemblance to Wolverine.

Fuck Shitty Attention Spans!

As for the other, I've got two ways to go with it. First, combine a Biotest Spike with a serving of Happy Pills for a sort of herbal Adderal. The shit will wake you up and focus you nicely. Great for working on a massive tome of strength training and nutrition knowledge, ahem, or for just searching the internet for the perfect porn. Good stuff.

Fuck Depression!

The second way is to take a serving of Happy Pills in the morning, and a serving of SAMe at night, which will apparently work like Cymbalta, but without the inability to show emotion or generally get excited about anything at all, haha. Thus, if you find yourself bearing a stark resemblance to Weepy Smurf, get on top of this shit and you should be right as rain the next morning.

Until that day, fuckers.

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