There are essentially two types of people in the world, and they’re very aptly depicted in the Matrix- those content to pretend to live in freedom, and those who will endure the pain of doing so. I’m the latter, whereas most people seem to be the former. They’re the dick bag in the Matrix who sells out his buddies for the illusion of a delicious steak, knowing it’s total bullshit but refusing to care.
“WHEREAS THOSE WHO SLEEP WITHIN THE MATRIX HAVE THE ILLUSION OF INDIVIDUAL FREEDOM… WHILE BEING SLAVES TO THE WORST ASPECTS OF COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS, THOSE WHO ARE TRULY FREE ULTIMATELY FIGHT ALONE. WHICH IS PREFERABLE? OUR INSTINCTS TELL US TO BE ALONE AND AWARE, WITH THE PERHAPS DISTANT HOPE OF BUILDING A COMMUNITY. EVEN IF WE FAIL AT BUILDING IT, OR ITS GOALS ARE NEVER REVEALED, WE STILL KNOW WE HAVE TRIED. WE’D RATHER BE ALONE- ORPHANS- ON OUR OWN TERMS THAN TO BE TAKEN CARE OF IT IS AS SLAVES TO A GOVERNMENT OR MACHINE, OR EVEN AN IDEA.” (FINGEROTH 71)
If you want to train like an animal that’s snapped its chains and set itself upon an unsuspecting herd of deer, asking a stranger to program your workouts is not the way to go about it. The entire point of life is to blaze your own path and determine what works best for you and do it- to throw off the strictures and shackles heaped upon you by a weak-minded and -bodied society to find your own way. It’s to try new shit, push yourself harder and farther than everyone else, and transcend the mediocrity of the masses to achieve excellence. It’s not about doing what someone else tells you, because that is not how the greats discover their greatness.
For the love of all that’s holy, don’t bend your knee to anyone. People need get off their knees and stop sucking the proverbial cocks of supposed gurus because it’s popular to do so and far easier than thinking for themselves- that’s how epic tales start. Think for yourselves and DO for your goddamn selves.
What you should not be doing, however, is deluding yourself into thinking you’re free when you want nothing more than to be in a gimp suit in some coach’s basement. That’s not my style- it’s way too much goddamn work and responsibility. I exist as I do because I’m not swayed by the influence of others- I assimilate massive amounts of information and utilize it to make decisions after experimenting with the aforementioned information as the basis. I do this without consulting anyone else- not my mom, nor lifting coaches, nor my friends or random passersby. I rely on myself, my balls, and the knowledge that no matter what result I achieve, I did so at my own behest and as the result of my own thoughts and actions. That is what being free is all about.
For those of you who are still confused, the people who truly understand this site will agree that we’re not the goddamn X-Men- that is to say, we’re not a group of misfits persecuted by society and united by fear and ostracization that band together for mutual protection like a herd of cattle. Instead, we’re like a Punisher/Wolverine/Hulk team up writ large- a pack of loosely coordinated, like-minded, pissed off individualists’ hell bent on bringing our fight to the world’s doorstep. Stop looking for a goddamn handout, grasp your cock or your cunt, and attack the world for being the soggy pile of dogshit that it is. That’s what feral humans do, and that’s what you could be if you stopped thinking about what you were going to do and simply did it. The Wild Man of St. Louis, a feral adult who was captured for no apparent reason in the 19th Century, took no shit from anyone, least of all cats, and when cornered fought overwhelming odds and escaped the second he could. Instead of thinking about doing shit, plotting to do it, talking about it, and ultimately accomplishing not a goddamn thing, he went superhuman on society’s ass and maintained his freedom from the litany of bullshit with which the rest of us must deal on a daily basis.
“THE WILD MAN, OF WHOM SOME ACCOUNTS APPEARED IN THE PAPERS, WAS CAUGHT LATELY AND BROUGHT TO ST. LOUIS. HE WAS SURROUNDED IN A SORT OF LAIR BENEATH A DENSE CLUSTER OF UNDERGROWTH, LIKE THE HABITATION OF A WILD BEAST, AND FILLED WITH THE BONES AND SKIN OF CATS, WHICH SEEMED TO HAVE CONSTITUTED HIS PRINCIPAL ARTICLE OF FOOD. FOR THIS STRANGE DIET HE HAD A PECULIAR PENCHANT AND ESCHEWED ALMOST EVERY OTHER. HE HUNTED CATS WITH AN AVIDITY PROMPTED BY AN EXTREME VORACITY, AND IT WAS IN THE PURSUIT AND SLAUGHTER OF THESE ANIMALS THAT HE WAS FIRST DISCOVERED. FREQUENT ATTEMPTS WERE MADE TO CAPTURE HIM, BUT HIS AGILITY AND SPEED WAS SUCH THAT HE APPEARED TO RUN UPON THE TOPS OF THE BUSHES, AND FENCES OFFERED NO IMPEDIMENT TO HIS HEADLONG COURSE. AT LENGTH A GREAT NUMBER SURROUNDED AND SECURED HIM. HE ATTEMPTED BATTLE BUT WAS OVERCOME. WHEN BROUGHT TO THE COURT HOUSE HE PRESENTED THE STRANGEST APPEARANCE CONCEIVABLE. HIS HEIGHT WAS ABOUT FIVE AND A HALF FEET, HIS HAIR WAS LONG, REDDISH BROWN AND MATTED, HIS EYES LARGE, GRAY, AND RESTLESS, HIS FINGERNAILS AS LONG AS THE CLAWS OF A TIGER, HIS DEPORTMENT CROUCHING –HALF TIMID HALF THREATENING–AND HIS GARMENTS CONSISTED OF A THOUSAND TATTERS OF CLOTHS, BARKS, CAT-SKINS, &C, BOUND TOGETHER BY CATGUTS. HE SAID HE WAS FROM THE STATE OF NEW YORK AND HAD BEEN IN THE WOODS THIRTY-SIX YEARS. WHILE HE WAS BEING EXAMINED, AND WAS PERMITTED TO STAND UNBOUND, HE MADE A SUDDEN SPRING OVER THE HEADS OF THOSE WHO SURROUNDED HIM AND DARTED AWAY WITH THE SPEED OF THE REINDEER. THE CROWD PURSUED HIM, BUT IN VAIN. OVER THE HILLS HE FAIRLY FLEW, BEFORE FOOTMEN AND HORSEMEN, UNTIL HE WAS LOST TO THEM. NOTHING HAS SINCE BEEN HEARD OF HIM. HE IS CERTAINLY A STRANGE BEING AND IS LITERALLY A WILD MAN. HIS AGE CAN HARDLY EXCEED FORTY, AND YET HE HAS LIVED SO MUCH AWAY FROM THE SOCIETY OF MAN THAT HE HAS NEARLY FORGOTTEN HIS LANGUAGE AND HAS THE MOST VAGUE RECOLLECTION OF THINGS. HE REMEMBERED NEW YORK, BUT DID NOT KNOW WHERE HE WAS, NOR THE FORM OF GOVERNMENT UNDER WHICH WE LIVED. DR. KNODE WAS EXAMINING HIM WHEN HE ESCAPED, AND IT IS TO BE REGRETTED THAT THE DOCTOR COULD NOT HAVE HAD AN OPPORTUNITY OF ASCERTAINING THE CHARACTER OF HIS MANIA” (FRANK LESLIE).
And if you’re thinking, “OK- I’ll do this… I’ll do it starting Monday, because I’m OCD and must start things on a specific day or my vaginitis acts up,” don’t even bother. That is, without question, indicative of the worst feature of modern society- the desire to be disordered. No one takes responsibility for their actions any longer. They’re helpless pawns of their genes, and everyone’s genes are apparently rife with horrible mutations of one sort or another. For those of you who aren’t following, you almost certainly do not have OCD, and the use of the term indicates that the user is either painfully stupid or so weak of character that his or her mommy must coax them out of bed in the mornings to get him to start his day. After cutting the crusts off their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, she apparently allows them to use the computer, which he does at the risk of destroying what little dignity he has left.
For those of you out there who might be empathizing with anyone short of the severely deformed, retarded, or insane, or feeling sorry for yourself because of some perceived mental or physical ailment or baggage, don’t. You’re not disordered. Your thyroid isn’t the problem. Your metabolism isn’t the problem. Your ratio of Type I to Type II fibers is not the problem. Your lack of will is the goddamn problem. You’ve nothing preventing you from starting a workout program on a Wednesday, a new diet today, or a new exercise in your next workout other than fear and stupidity.
Though they’ve fallen out of favor in deference to our society’s overwhelming obsession with the contents of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, heroes in literature used to be awesome. Influenced heavily be the amazing book I’ve mentioned before, Gladiator, a new type of hero became popular in the 1930s and 40s: “the self-reliant individualist who stands aloof from many of the humdrum concerns of society, yet is able to operate according to his own code of honor, to take on the world on his own terms and win” (Reynolds 18). These guys were all aloof, cocky, loner badasses who wrecked shop with impunity while giving the world the finger in a way Kid Rock could only dream about. They didn’t excuse their stupidity by blaming it on a disorder invented by psychiatrists so they could get kickbacks from pharmaceutical companies- they brought the goddamn ruckus at every opportunity. They didn’t pause to consider their myriad failings, nor did they stop to justify their fear of the unknown with a pathetic excuse- they acted.
If you’re on the fence about what to do to get yourself out of a rut, that’s not uncommon. Psychologist Rom Brafman has identified the root of the problem- there’s a sway from which many people suffer, me included, called “commitment”, in which people get so stuck in their ways that they cannot rationally evaluate their alternatives. As such, you must simply get goddamn feral, stop thinking, and go. He who hesitates is lost. Don’t be a dithering bitch- act. Try something new that you’ve thought was cool but were scared to try. Do squat lockouts with half a ton. Push your car down the street. Try some ultra-heavy hand and thigh lifts. Do a barbell one arm snatch. See how far you can throw a keg full of sand. Or beer. Or midgets.
Big, sloppy, wet, yawning cavities of vaginas, slavering for a big cock to fill them with goodness to remove the empty feeling inside them. If you’re busy worrying about who’s on what and when and how much and why, you’re doing one thing- looking for the starting point for a litany of excuses. All you must do is read their retorts to see how pathetic their mindset really is, because they’ll all sing the same sad-sack refrain- it’s cheating, they can’t compete, there’s no comparison between natural trainees and geared lifters, ignoring all the while that most of the truly impressive strength feats predate steroids. These stupid pieces of shit will explain away guys like Saxon and Sandow and Aston and Maxick as freaks of nature and irrelevant because those examples completely destroy their bullshit argument. Even when people compete in tested competitions, these “natty” lifters will call bullshit- look at all the accusations flying around about Konstantin Konstantinovs, for instance.
“IS IT EASIER TO READ OF A SUPERIOR BEING FROM BEYOND THE STARS OUTCLASSING US THAT OF A GUY FROM DOWN THE BLOCK WHO WAS JUST LUCKIER OR STRONGER OR SMARTER? MAYBE THAT’S THE KEY. MAYBE WE FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE IDEA THAT WE’RE NOT LIVING UP TO OUR POTENTIAL, OR THAT SOMEONE ELSE HAS MORE POTENTIAL THAN WE DO. OR THAT THEY’RE LIVING UP TO THEIR POTENTIAL BETTER THAN WE ARE TO OURS? BUT IF SOMEONE ELSE ISN’T REALLY PLAYING ON THE SAME FIELD OR BY THE SAME RULES WE DO… THEN MAYBE WE DON’T HAVE TO FEEL SO BAD ABOUT OURSELVES. I SUPPOSE THIS WOULD CHARACTERIZE THE SUPERMAN FAN MORE THAN, SAY, THE BATMAN FAN” (FINGEROTH 32).
If you’re lost, and those of you still shouting insipid retorts to my earlier comments doubtless are, allow me to elucidate this point. Non-powered superheros, or those with non-super fantastic powers, go toe to toe with the Superman’s and Green Lanterns and Wonder Mans of the comic book universe without a second thought. The Punisher, for instance, went toe to toe with the Hulk, and at no point bitched about the fact that the Hulk had superpowers and he didn’t. Likewise, Hawkeye fought the Be yonder in Secret Wars without taking his toys and going home because the Be yonder was “cheating”, and Batman beat the ever-loving shit out of that punk-bitch Boy Scout Superman with nothing but hate on his side (and an exoskeleton, but hell, he was a senior citizen at that point). “A winner is used to accepting full responsibility for his actions”, “immediately takes charge even when he lacks the authority to do so”, and that “a sour-faced, pessimistic attitude is for losers, not for winners”, which is why those guys didn’t take shit from the “cheaters” and just charged headlong into the goddamn fray (Van Fleet 64-66). Feral humans, similarly, don’t make goddamned excuses about their opponents and claim they cannot compete- they react, adapt, and overcome using nothing but their balls and a hell of a lot of aggression. To wit:
“THE STORY OF THE WILD GIRL OF CHAMPAGNE IS DETAILED BY A TRUSTWORTHY FRENCH WRITER, M. DE LA CONDAMINE. ONE EVENING, IN SEPTEMBER 1731, THE PEOPLE OF THE VILLAGE OF SONGI WERE ALARMED BY THE ENTRANCE INTO THE STREET OF A GIRL, SEEMINGLY NINE OR TEN YEARS OLD, COVERED WITH RAGS AND SKINS, AND HAVING FACE AND HANDS BLACK AS THOSE OF A NEGRO. SHE HAD A GOURD LEAF ON HER HEAD, AND WAS ARMED WITH A SHORT BATON. SO STRANGE WAS HER ASPECT THAT THOSE WHO OBSERVED HER TOOK TO THEIR HEELS AND RAN IN-DOORS, EXCLAIMING, “THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL!” BOLTS WERE DRAWN IN ALL QUARTERS, AND ONE MAN THOUGHT TO ENSURE SAFETY BY LETTING LOOSE A LARGE BULL-DOG. THE LITTLE SAVAGE FLINCHED NOT AS THE ANIMAL ADVANCED IN A FURY, BUT THROWING HERSELF BACKWARDS ON ONE LIMB, AND GRASPING HER CLUB WITH BOTH HANDS, SHE DISCHARGED A BLOW AT THE HEAD OF THE DOG, AS IT CAME NIGH HER, WITH SUCH FORCE AND CELERITY AS TO KILL IT ON THE SPOT. ELATED WITH HER VICTORY, SHE JUMPED SEVERAL TIMES ON THE CARCASS; AFTER WHICH SHE TRIED IN VAIN TO ENTER A HOUSE, AND THEN RAN BACK TO THE WOOD, WHERE SHE MOUNTED A TREE AND FELL ASLEEP.” (FRANK LESLIE)
Clearly, the Wild Girl of Champagne didn’t stop to rationalize the unfairness of pitting a 10-year-old girl against a full-grown bulldog, because she was feral and thus awesome. In stark contrast to feral humans, however, most “people adjusted their judgments of the desirability of a future event to make them congruent with its perceived likelihood, but only when the event triggered motivational involvement” (Kay). In other words, they adjust their goals to match the perceived likelihood that they’ll be achieved- thus spiraling into a progressive downward spiral of expectations because they will tell themselves they cannot do something, suck as a result, and readjust their expectations downward again. They thus would have just thrown their hands in the air and been eaten by that bulldog were they placed in the Wild Girl’s position, because they would have thought that it would have been pointless to fight and would have consigned themselves to death. That pathetic behavior is the reason these dick bags on Reddit, Bodybuilding.com, and 4Chan constantly blather on about steroids- they’re piss weak, embarrassed to be alive, and want a reason to rationalize their failure at life. If you’re one of the pussies still squealing about the magic of steroids, consider this:
Steroids are not magical, they don’t make people superhuman, and they’re not the reason why guys or girls in the gym outlift you- your lack of intestinal fortitude, hard work, drive, determination, aggression, and hate are the reason you fucking suck.
Fingeroth, Danny. Superman on the Couch: What Superheros Really Tell Us About Ourselves and Our Society. New York: Continuum, 2004.
Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper. May 23, 1857, no. 76, p. 380, col A. http://www.erbzine.com/mag21/2157.html
Grossman, Cathy Lynn. “Obama, Clinton top most-admired lists for 2011.” USA Today. 12/27/11. http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/story/2011-12-27/most-admired-people-2011/52243574/1
Kay AC, Jiminez MC, and Jost JT. Sour Grapes, Sweet Lemons, and the Anticipatory Rationalization of the Status Quo. Pers Soc Psychol Bull (2002) 28:9 1300-1312
Quirkology. New Years Resolution Experiment. http://www.quirkology.com/UK/Experiment_resolution.shtml
Reynolds, Richard. Super Heros: A Modern Mythology. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1992
Science and Nature. Polling Report. http://www.pollingreport.com/science.htm
Stanton, J. The Gnoll Credo. Zephyr Cove: 100 Watt Press, 2010.
Van Fleet, James K. Hidden Power: How to Unleash the Power of Your Subconscious Mind. Paramus: Prentice Hall, 1987.