Men and Ladies on the Internet 2: Formspring what the hell, now?

There are a huge number of social networking sites on the Internet, these days. Facebook is probably the most popular, now--it has absolutely exploded ever since it was opened up to the general public, and has become almost as annoying as its predecessor, myspace. Livejournal is a great place for the emo among us (if you want a great example check out CM Punk's old lj) and Deviant Art, too, is as much of a dramatic whinescape as it is a place to showcase your World of Warcraft fan-art. Twitter is a lot of fun--and a good way to engage with people in snips and snaps, although not as much as their blogs because it doesn't allow invested discussion--and I like to use it to network with people who share my interest in women's wrestling, both as appreciators and performers.

This networking has led me to an experience with a new website, called Formspring.me. One of the best current performers in female wrestling is the totally amazing Death Rey, Sara Del Rey. Although until recently I had only seen her in a match or two on ROH on HDNet, mostly hanging around with Castagnoli and Chris Hero, and as part of the Four Corners match on the SHIMMER Vol. 2 main event, I became very impressed with Death Rey's blog and twitter feed. Through a little bit of interaction with her, about whey, wheat and hemp protein, I have decided that SDR is a seriously cool chick. I was inspired to look up some of her other matches, considered classics by American joshi fans, and was impressed with those, too, and plan to attend any shows which she works that are within a reasonable geographic distance to my home base.

Most of the questions on her formspring are pretty normal. They are about gossipy stuff, about wrestling matches she likes and/or about music and tv. Some are more personal but understandable, about who she might be dating. Some are... simply incomprehensible or not questions at all. A wide variety of them, however, are crude queries about bra and panties matches and nude photo-shoots. The whole situation seems to be making Death Rey, even a girl as tough as Death Rey, somewhat uncomfortable and I would hate to see it make her less willing to interact with those of us who find her awesome and respect her work. I keep asking myself the same questions that I did about the guy who inquired after (name redacted's) worn panties: who are you, why are you, and which the hell rock did you crawl out from under? Perhaps, in my career, I can do something to teach young men that this is not the proper way to approach a fine, foxy lady-person, or maybe I'm just rage, raging against the dying of the light, as Dylan Thomas would say. Either way, I feel like I'm fighting the good fight, somehow, by at least commenting on all this, and so I'll probably keep doing so. Guys like that just bring you down, though, and make you feel really terrible about the future prospects of the species...

ETA: As of this morning, it's good to see kitty's claws popping out a little more.

Women's wrestling 7: English muffin in da house!

Wow... I am absolutely exhausted tonight. I did some really big squats tonight, with my new weights, hitting 3 top sets of 2 with 445, after warming up with 225, 295, 345, 365, 395 and 415. This was followed with a front squat progression, using cross grip because my wrists aren't loose enough to use a clean grip, finishing up at 315. My legs, as you can imagine, are completely blasted and my back feels compressed like a well squeezed accordion.... I mean, honestly, right now you could probably play "I Been Working on the Railroad" on my spine. On the other hand, tonight is my night to watch WWE Smackdown! with my sister, and in spite of Magical Mexican Midgets, CM Punk pitching fits (the M is for Man-whore) and the fairly incoherent ramblings of Kane, PI, Smackdown allows me to see Captain Charisma, Christian Cage, do his thing (which he did big time against Drew McIntyre and his lisp AND in diabetes, tonight) and, of course, and most wonderfully, the most amazing person in WWE, my darling little English muffin... LAYLA!

Tonight my utterly precious (and slightly annoying) dearest is supposed to be facing Tiffany. Tiffany has a pretty smile and (I've seen em in person twice and, yeah, no kidding) a pair of the best legs in history, so this match oughta be pretty. But wait! But hark! According to Vickie Guerrero, the Women's Championship belt will be defended, tonight, by my Layla's BFF, Michelle McCool! What a tragedy! This is not to be countenanced! Eh, oh well, whatever... it's not a bad match, and Michelle is a really good wrestler, and Layla is still hopping around and fussing adorably, so it's not like we're missing the really good parts of a Layla match (minus her selling) or anything, right? Tiffany has impressed me so much with her development in the past few months, too, since the end of the ECW brand. She started as an absolutely terrible wrestler, and now she's actually developed into something of a powerhouse. I like her very strong, physical style and look forward to seeing more of her (and her legs) in the future!

TNA Impact 2: ECW reunion and Lacey is adorable

Okay, first things first... Sarita is downright awesome in the ring. She can move more crisply and brings more authority with her rolls and strikes than 95% of the male roster. I like her new outfit, too, and not just because--like Uncle Angelo--I'm a butt man (although... wow), but because it shows off her beautiful, dusky skin tone so well, and actually reminds us that Sarita is an Aztec princess and, yeah, we ought to pretty much be worshiping her. The match was pretty good and, although I'm not really an Angelina Love fan, I don't mind everybody being fed to her (I might as well not...) if it's not being done in matches that last 2 minutes, like what happened to poor Daffney a couple of weeks ago. It's good to see Sarita getting some screen time--especially in that outfit--and with a promised Hamada/Daffney showdown on Xplosion in a couple of weeks I can see wonderful things coming from the Knockouts division in the near future. Also... how freaking adorable is Lacey Von Erich? I didn't have that much love for her when I first started watching TNA, but as this storyline has developed I've really started getting into her sweet, very naive, gentle character. More of this Lacey, please! I adore her!

Men and Ladies 1: Seems like there's not enough hours in the day...

If people were raping each other as frequently as Melissa McEwan, of the fairly radical feminist blog Shakesville, seems to believe, one hardly believes there would be enough hours in the day to carry out such basic human functions as eating, sleeping, breathing, maintaining atomic cohesion... you know, those kinds of luxuries. If the world truly was as Ms. McEwan sees it (well, I shouldn't say that... according to theoretical physics the world is exactly as she sees it... but only to her) mankind would simple wander through life, ramming prick first into anything that didn't move out of the way quickly enough. There would be no pyramids, no poetry... nothing, nothing but constant, violent sex. Well, some people do go through life like that--most of the ones I've encountered are either crunkcore kids or belong to fraternities--but most of us, I like to think, strive for something a little bit more. Or, at least, we simply don't have the kind of energy to maintain the level of malevolence that this lady-person seems to credit the human male with. Life is hard enough without tying Penelope Pitstop to a railroad track and twirling your mustache while laughing evilly, isn't it? I don't mean to suggest that Ms. McEwan doesn't have a personal experience with this sort of thing (she tells us about it ad nauseum, with very little provocation, and it does give her an agenda, which she carries out noisily), or that terrible people don't do terrible things (they certainly do!), but most people are neither noble nor terrible.

I used to take blogs like Shakesville and Pandagon more seriously than I do now. It lead to a fairly nightmarish few months where I attempted to navigate a world--as a fairly massive, imposing 300 pounds of bone and muscle--where I had begun to believe that every female-type person that I might find desirable was looking at me and thinking, "Ew, look at that scary, gross sex criminal!" I probably caused some offense, during these few months, by demurring away from and blowing off girls who were friendly--and may have even been interested in going out with me!--out of fear that I was bothering them. Even during walks around campus and stuff, I would sometimes avert my eyes to avoid striking people with my "Gaze," as some of the feminist type people say. It caused me constant anxiety attacks, and these left me totally drained of energy and even made me kind of depressed. Well, maybe not depressed so much as just exhausted and frustrated. As you can imagine, I didn't get a whole lot of dates during this period. None, actually. I don't even think B. and I went out any during these few months, and we were supposed to be in a relationship, as our facebook statuses said (but that's a different story for a different time). I feel somewhat differently now, and look at these blogs and those that post and comment on them with a mixture of irritation and pity. I'm not afraid to talk to people, anymore, and am much happier. My facebook isn't in a relationship, now, but I'm able to communicate and make friends and go on dates. I haven't offensively Gazed at anyone, and no one has offensively Gazed back. I just try to 'be friendly,' as Adam the Minstrel would say, much like the advice I gave a few posts back. You know how to be friendly, don't you?

Joshi 6: Toyota-San and the Japanese Ocean Suplex for the win

The incomparable joshi Manami Toyota hits the Japanese Ocean throw on the much larger Aja Kong. Ignore the comments below the video by dipsticks who've never bumped in their lives (I have during folkstyle and Greco matches, on a regulation mat in practice and competition; suplexes/suplays hurt and that trajectory can't be faked) and just concentrate on the amazing grace with which Toyota-San arches; it's like poetry in motion.

I post this today because, according Sara Del Rey's blog, Toyota-San will be appearing with Chikara soon! I agree with SDR on this; if you love joshi, especially, you must be there. I'd ride a donkey if I had to! Or walk. Or let the donkey ride me. I don't care; Toyota-San is just that impressive!

WWE RAW 1: NXT Rodeo

Watching WWE RAW, tonight, with my sister. WWE isn't my favorite wrestling organization--God help me I love TNA, just like I used to love WCW--and doesn't even make the best wrestling video games (Fire Pro Wrestling Returns and gratuitous Engrish for the win!) but some of their workers are pretty entertaining and their production values cannot be denied. Jericho promos are always exciting, and tonight we got a really good one against John Cena (complete, really awesomely, with a classic "Y2J!" chant), it's good to see Mark Henry doing big, strong guy things (like hoisting the 278 pound Skip Sheffield above his head like he didn't weigh anything more than a loaf of bread) and I'll never complain about seeing either of the Bella girls on my tv. Yeah, they're models--instead of wrestlers, proper--and I'm not sure either of them speaks a recognized human language (they seem to mostly coo at each other and the former RAW guest hosts), but Brie and Nikki are absolutely lovely, dusky Latinas, and I will always and forever go melty for long, dark hair in which I could tangle my fingers and big, shimmering ink drop eyes. And to have that in duplicate? It's like dying and going to heaven!

Anyway, the big story, I guess, was the Summer Slam preview match, seven on seven, Nexus vs Raw superstars. It wasn't any surprise seeing Dustin Runnels and Yoshi Tatsu getting manhandled--they're pretty much low card guys, right now, although I had thought Yoshi might be getting a nifty push right there at the end of ECW on SyFy--and Jerry Lawler is north of sixty years old, making him not particularly an impressive bring down. I was impressed, however, at seeing Mark Henry, Evan Bourne and the Hart Dynasty going down in front of Nexus, and especially at Skip Sheffield (aka the Silverback, or as I like to call him the NXTape) powering over Mark Henry like a steam roller. I'm glad that WWE is dedicated enough to this storyline to show NXT members actually working guys over in proper matches, not just in random attacks. Hopefully they can keep it fresh even after Summer Slam and maybe get a bi more mileage out of it.

Strength and Deconditioning 8: Clean and jerk

Today was clean and jerk day on my workout schedule, my first in a couple of weeks. I like to do different things, instead of just keeping to the three power lifts and support exercises that are "approved" by one protocol, HIT or Westside or whatever, and the Olympic lifts, clean and jerk and snatch, are two of the best overall body conditioners available. There is something raw, primal and satisfying about ripping a barbell off the floor, racking it, and then hurling it over your head. There is no room for cheating. The lift is black and white, and there is no supportive gear that you can wear, except maybe lifting straps or knee wraps or something; you will fail or you will succeed based largely on your own merits. Whenever I do the clean and jerk I can literally feel my trapezius and quadriceps growing in response to the stresses put on them; the jerk phase feels so good on my calves, shoulders (much better than military press) and my lower back and abdominal wall. The only issue with this lift is that the potential for failure is absolutely epic. If you feel yourself losing the bar, then lose it. It could cause damage to the bar, but that's better than breaking both your shin bones, eh? I suggest either having rubber bumper plates--which are insanely expensive--a padded lifting platform, which is what I use, when you do the clean and jerk. For inspiration, here is Hossein Rezazadeh (SHW, Iran) performing the heaviest clean and jerk on Olympic record. For further inspiration, her is a really cute girl doing a somewhat (heh) smaller C&J.

So go, ye children, in peace to the gym and start cleaning!

Strength and deconditioning 7: Getting strong

I have coached a few people, in the weight room, when I have worked out in public places. This is one of the hazards of working out while very strong. People see you loading four or more plates onto any given bar, and they just sort of assume you have a duty to the public to help them work out. Maybe you do... I don't know. I do know that I don't mind helping somebody out when that person is dedicated and serious about weight training, about getting stronger. One of the best students I ever had, in the weight room, was a tall, thin young man whose leverages were absolutely and utterly wrong for lifting weights. He was able to do a lot of running and to hop around like a tree frog on crack, doing P90X, but wasn't able to bench press, squat or dead lift more than 135. His bench might have been 145; I forget. The point was that he wasn't very strong, in absolute terms, and the program he was doing of four sixes wasn't doing him any favors. I put him on a program of alternating 3x3 and 5x2 workouts (I chose against adding in a cycle of 8-12 singles, due to the fact that I couldn't watch him closely and do my own workouts) and, within a few weeks, his max bench press had leaped to 165! This is a pretty impressive step forward and I was incredibly proud of him. He also made progress on bench press and squat, which are excellent indicators of overall strength.

This is one of the reasons that it confuses me, then, when someone comes up to me in the weight room and says, "I want you to help me, but I don't want to get strong/I don't care about getting strong. Can you help me?" I have to say, after looking at them confused, for a moment, "No, no I don't think I can help you, at all, and furthermore I can't understand you." It's not that I don't get where they're coming from, you know... I understand them intellectually, I guess, I comprehend the words that they're saying, and all, but I just don't get what they want to get if not, you know, stronger. If you don't want to get stronger, then what do you want, to get weaker? Do you want to be weak? Really? Really? If so, then, why? I've had people tell me everything from that they want to get "bigger" to that they want to "lose fat." Well, buckaroo, you can't get big, you can't get really big, without getting strong. You can get a blood pump happening in your muscles, you can develop a certain amount of liquid hypertrophy, but a few hours out of the gym will bring you down to earth, leaving those little swollen guns, of which you were so proud a little while ago, posing in front of the mirror, will be deflated like balloons. If you want to lose fat, well, then, you need to pack on some muscle, which can be accomplished by getting stronger. You might weigh more--muscle ways more than fat, after all--but each pound of muscle will burn four times the amount of calories that a pound of fat will. Your body will literally revolt against fat as you get stronger, stripping it away. Besides, when a person is truly down and out, you don't hear "I want to get buff," or "I want six pack abs." When a man or woman can't walk, or work, or get out of bed, he or she says, "I want to get stronger." That person is at their lowest, back to basics, and that's where the deep work, which feels like it's being done at the cellular level, gets done. Get back there and start building. Get strong. All the other stuff you want will come.

What is a real man? 3: Things to say and/or not say about/to people on the internet

I'm going to grouch a little bit, tonight, I think. Maybe it's because I've been feeling a little sick all day, or because I've been really, really hungry, or because I lifted weights in my gym, which is basically a vinyl box, when the heat index was a little over 100 degrees... although not 113 like it was earlier, today. At any rate, I'm feeling like something of a grouch, so I'm going to grumble a bit more about the way men act towards young ladies--young wrestling workers, since that's who I follow on twitter and interact with some--on the internet.

One, ahem, gentleman on a relatively well known wrestling message board (which is usually readable, well, at least in it's WWE section... it's TNA section is awful) wrote, regarding the TNA Knockouts, "wow I can't tell these bitches apart they all look the same." Really, as the Miz would say, really? Can you really not tell them apart? If we go back a little bit in time, could you not discern ODB--a short, drunk, stocky redneck--from Amazing Kong, a gargantuan woman with dreadlocks and smooth, brown ocher skin from Alissa Flash, a small, well muscled dream girl with long, inky hair and strange eye-makeup? Can you not tell Daffney, a pale, quirky Goth tomato who screams a lot, covered in colorful tattoos, from Hamada, a thickly built, strapping Japanese woman more physically imposing than most of the X-Division? You must be blind, friend.

Or maybe I'm being unfair... I'm bringing into this women who are no longer Knockouts and who were not part of the segment that this fellow was commenting on. Maybe he really couldn't tell Sarita, a sultry Latin brunette, from Angelina love, a tall rocker chick, from Madison Rayne, a ferocious little ferret with a terrible weave, from Taylor Wilde, a large headed blond Canadian midget. Maybe the additions of Lacey von Erich and Vel Vel--who have completely different sizes, builds and bone structures--confused him, or maybe it was the mystery biker woman? Well, the biker woman's helmet and Taylor Wilde's head are of a similar size, so maybe that was it? Heh... sorry... I just cannot resist picking on Taylor; it's one of my fortes.

Anyway, the problem I see in all of this is that a young man who would say this about these young women--about any young women--is that he fails to see them as people. He only experiences these girls as props, something to stimulate his lizard hormonal centers. His gaze, to paraphrase Barbara Kruger, hits the sides of their faces and, not really seeing, doesn't perceive a person; his gaze, his male gaze (see Jaques Lacan and Laura Mulvey) and this, according to thinkers like Hannah Arendt and Martha Craven Nussbaum, is where misogyny, othering and dehumanization begin.

Another issue I'd like to bring up is what I saw on the twitter accounts belonging to Michelle McCool (or would it be Michelle Calloway now? very cool that!) and Miss Layla El (that wonderful little English muffin to all the world): "mslayel

“@McCoolMichelleL: Note to twitterers who hate....it's cool, BUT you're gonna get blocked dropping F bombs....REAL TALK:)” Seriously !!"

Okay, for one thing, to paraphrase Riley Freeman, I don't messes around with ya if ya messes around with Layla, dig? That's one of the cutest chicks in the world, and she seems sweet as she can be, like pie or honey, so how are you going to swear at her on twitter? Michelle has the freaking Undertaker to tape his fists up for her, so I don't feel compelled to say as much, but this is yet another example of people mistreating young women for no reason other than they are bullies, small men by definition, and want to feel bigger. I don't know if the problem is sociological or psycho-sexual, but it doesn't impress anybody when you insult and abuse a girl for a character that she plays... "REAL TALK!" as my dear Flawless Ones would say.

I guess what I'm getting at here, at the bottom of things, is best summed up by John Gabriel's Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory.

Anonymity yields the opportunity to mouth off without getting your face kicked out the back of your head, Kaval style, and with an audience added it can only lead to disaster. So don't be a GIF, friends and neighbors... listen to Gabriel. He's right. Well, there is a first time for everything, after all, eh?

TNA Impact 1: I love confused Lacey

Okay, so my girls the Knockouts didn't have a whole lot to do on TNA Impact, tonight, but they did their best to make an impact (haha) with what little time they had. Madison Rayne is really coming into her own as a nasty little heel, and playing Sarita as her compatriot/bodyguard might be really awesome. Sarita is tough as a nut (and cute as a button with her freckles and little upturned nose... how I love me some Sarita!) but isn't a particularly good talker, so putting her with someone who has an... overabundance of personality, I guess is a way to say it... like Madison seems to be a good idea. Velvet has amazing chemistry with Angelina Love--the amount they communicated with their eyes, alone, tonight, was incredible and their little glance at the end was so, so smoky... ho yay, as the good people at Television Without Pity would say, I guess. Lacey von Erich is growing on me each week, especially playing this role as the 'Rose' of the group, a kind-hearted innocent who just wants everybody to get along and be friends, and I really and truly do like Taylor Wilde, even if I pick on her a lot for being a blond Canadian midget and for having an Amazon wishlist on which I would not be surprised to find a personal space ship, one day. The biker thing is kind of starting to wear thin and they need to reveal who she is, soon... or maybe there should be several bikers? Not sure. I'd like a coalition of bikers, personally, made up of people who have scores of various kinds to settle with Angelina Love and/or Vel Vel. That may be too difficult to pull off, though. I'd also like to see more Rosie Lottalove and Daffney, but I'll just settle, right now, for seeing anyone who isn't a part of the Beautiful People.

Other things I've seen tonight that I've enjoyed have included 1) Angle's four suplexes on Hernandez, 2) the, er... 'incident' during Anderson and Morgan's match and 3) AJ Styles hauling a good match out of Rob Terry's big, stiff butt and no muscles pulling themselves off Rob's bones and 4) Jeff Hardy vs. Samoa Joe in a Fly Boy vs. Fat Boy brawl that took it to the time limit. Shut up, Impact Zone, that was a some good wrestling you bunch of yabbos!

Although, Impact Zone, I do love how bloodthirsty you are. WWE would pay for a crowd that ferocious, man.

What is a real man? 2: Don't be weird and creepifying

I recently ran across this piece of eloquent smoothery on a (usually) intelligent and reasonable (heh) and well known message board for wrestling fans:

"i was quoted by the people who run (name remitted) website that it would cost me 250 dollars to buy a pair of her worn panties"

I'm honestly unsure what I find stranger: the fact that the question got asked in the first place, the fact that it got answered at all, or the exorbitant price quoted. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at the question... the guys in question, after all, are a collection of ill informed wannabe cabin in the woods libertarians who believe that Ayn Rand is God (and Rorschach is her prophet). Um, actually, in a sad kind of way, I think I just described a massive segment of the internet. Considering that... well, it's gonna be hard to finish this post and I might have to go lie down for a while. Anyway, given that sort interacting with the girl in question and her "people" (who I'm pretty sure is her, her friend/webmistress and her cat, and who are all as crazy as all hell and, like all women anywhere near the public eye, good at humping a buck off of perverts), the communication doesn't surprise me that much at all. I think the bizarreness comes, to me, from the fact that a dude would ask the question in the first place.

(imagine this next part read by the wise, wonderful, late Isaac Hayes)

What kind of man, oh, what kind of man, expresses interest in used panties and not... the treasure beyond? You gotta lay that lady down, that fine foxy lady down, you gotta lay that fine foxy lady down and make sweet love down by the fire, oh, down by the fire. You gotta be strong and gentle, strong and gentle at the same time, gotta murmur sweet nothings while you lay down a bass line, be firm and gentle while you hold the football, yeah, hold the football tightly to you, so you don't fumble when you run down the field, mmm, hold the football tightly, gently, spank the football softly, lay that fine lady, fine foxy lady, down by the fire...

(okay, it's probably time to let Mr. Hayes get back to heaven or fighting Thetans or whatever it is he's doing)

Anyway, what I'm trying to say, I guess, is this: how daft do you have to be, how incapable of interacting with a woman do you have to be, to even consider this an appropriate question? If you want to be cool you don't, I repeat don't offer to buy a woman's laundry. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. If you want to waste money on a chick in the public eye (I've done it, believe me, I've dated a Miss Teen Georgia runner-up, and that kind of chick likes expensive dinners, baby) then you should, I don't know... buy her crap off of her little Amazon wish-list (especially if she reciprocates with hand written notes and personalized photos, or something, which seems sweet to me, although I have, as said, wasted enough money on beauty queens for the moment/lifetime!), and if you want to be slick and awesome and friendly you should promote whatever it is she does on your social networking site, or read and comment thoughtfully on her blog if she has one, or reply to her on twitter and pretend whatever ludicrous thing she is jabbering about is remotely interesting, or tell her that her pet pictures are cute... basically? Do most anything--anything--apart from offering to purchase her laundry basket. Women are people too, men of the internet (real men of genius!), and the best way to make friends is to... be friendly, as Dr. Sevrin would say. You know how to be friendly, don't you?

(Here's a hint: see the first entry under the heading "What is a real man?" for an example of how not to be friendly)

WWE NXT 1: Percy Watson, OH YEAH!!!

Okay, I know that the crowd is probably supposed to be behind MVP and all, here, since he's an established face and Percy is just an upstart with unusual glasses and horrific yellow underpants, but they seem to be with me on this one. Percy is the man and gets a crowd reaction that some of WWE's main eventers should envy just by pointing towards the ceiling and shouting, "Oh yeah!" This man could be the next decade's Rock to Randy Orton's Stone Cold Steve Austin, and this should terrify us all.

Neo-Cody Rhodes is all kinds of shades of Simply Ravishing Rick Rude. A good wrestling heel is usually just a little bit homosexual, and Cody seems to bring that vibe in spades. He needs to top it all off with a big, manly mustache and a mat of chest hair, though, or the boy's just posing. Wait, what? I haven't said anything about Husky, you say? He's a fat boy with a chin-strap; I don't have much to say! Well, all kidding aside, Husky is a great, old school wrestling heel. He's built like he could legitimately hurt you, and hearkens back to the sleazy villains of the seventies and eighties in GCW and JCP.

Lucky Cannon is about as exciting as a naked wall. I'll have more to say about him when he engages in a feud with his worst enemy, the Loaded Barbell.

Eli Cottonwood... makes me vaguely uneasy. What? Don't judge me! My sister is afraid of Percy Watson. Eli is just a little bit to "cabin in the woods man love" for my comfort, and I like my wrestling heels to make me angry with their cheating ways, not make me feel like I need to look over my shoulder. Guy is big and strong and creepy and could go a long way... he just needs to gain about thirty or so pounds and name his finishing move 'the Deliverance Drop.'

Alex Riley is a good wrestler and has a great, fun loving personality. His type is sort of over-saturating the WWE right now--the Miz and Jack Swagger sort of have a lock on jocky, douche-bag heels--but maybe, just maybe, we could have a subversion in a jocky, slightly douchey face? Or maybe he should just go back to dating Veronica and flushing Archie's head in the toilet.

Kaval is easily the best wrestler out of the rookies this season, probably because he's nowhere near being a rookie. I was worried at first that his pairing with the incredibly adorable Simply Flawless might overshadow his simple bad-assery but their fun-loving persona seems to enhance his serious business. The guy also looks like the love-child of Krillin and Vegeta, and so must be supported.

Joe Hennig is a good wrestler, but hasn't done a whole lot to inspire me. Maybe it's the fact that we've got a glut of handsome second generation wrestlers in underpants right now or that awful fake name, but I just can't get behind the fellow right now. Maybe when he Brett and Ted and Maryse form the Fortunate Sons?

Women's Wrestling 5: I finally weigh in on the Nikki Roxx fiasco, a month late

I love TNA wrestling, and I respect its president, Dixie Carter. This is why I have decided to finally weigh in on the mess that came up with Nikki Roxx back at the Victory Road Pay Per View, when Nikki was informed that she would be on the losing end of a retirement match only minutes before competing.

This was low class, Dixie; this was bush league. This is the kind of shit that Vince McMahon and Johnny Ace come up with, not what I'd expect from a decent, Southern woman who runs a decent, Southern wrestling promotion. I have always respected you, Dixie, because you seem to really care about your workers, the backbone of your company. The schedule is light, the wellness policy is... well, it's nonexistent, but it doesn't have the same problems that the WWE Wellness policy does, all the same, and you don't force workers into situations which they are uncomfortable with, as a general rule. You let people develop their characters, you let them have room to breathe, and you don't force them to fit a single mold. This is why dropping Nikki, rumored to be because she wasn't "pretty" enough, is such a disgusting situation. For one thing, Nikki is a very physically attractive woman. She is athletic and symmetrical, and beyond that is an accomplished fitness competitor. Even further, Nikki seems--although I don't know her--to be a really kind and decent human being, beautiful inside and out, and she didn't deserve getting screwed like that, not by a company that she's sweated and literally bled for. This was low, Dixie; this was some low class, stinking, black, grainy, stomach cancer, sewer shit, Dixie, and it's beneath you. Beneath Vince and Bikini Johnny? Hell no! But beneath Dixie Carter? I think so, or at least I want to. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't like to think so--I hate being--wrong, but maybe I am.

Furthermore, Dixie, this was a terrible booking decision. The Knockouts are one of your best divisions--heck, in my opinion they are the best!--and Madison Rayne is a great little worker. No one could enjoy her match or appreciate her victory, though, with what had just happened to Nikki Roxx. Any human being with a grain of soul remaining, on seeing her face before the beginning of that match, just wanted to put his or her arms around Nikki, to tell her it was going to be all right. You can't get hyped up for a title match in that situation, not if you're a human being. Afterwards, that same human being with a lettuce shred of soul couldn't boo Madison with a clean spirit, excited and waiting for the heel to get her just desserts the next time around, because that human soul would just want to wipe the blood and tears off Nikki's face, to comfort her, to make her feel better. Maybe that's just a macho trip I'm on, by God, and I know I'm a little too protective of ladies maybe, like I was living in the age of chivalry or something, but I like to think that it's just basic human decency and wrestling booking 101. If people are so uncomfortable that they can't hate the heel more than they hate company management... well, there's no reason for them to watch, right? I used to say that I was going to be quits with TNA when you guys found a crappy reason to cut Daffney--I've been a fan of hers for a long time and her appearance was one of the reasons I started paying attention to the KOs in the first place--but even if you and she come to a parting of the ways, I've been impressed enough and become invested enough in TNA as an alternative to WWE that I'll stick around. However, this will only hold, with me and many others, until TNA stops being an alternative to WWE, on stage and behind it. Be the alternative, Dixie... work hard, treat your workers and your fans well, and we'll treat you and your company the same way!

PPV Night 1: Money in the Bank with Sister

I am watching WWE's Money in the Bank PPV with my sister, tonight. Although I absolutely hate to give Vince McMahon any more of our hard earned money, especially when his company seems to be specifically dedicated to booking decisions that, oh, I don't know, piss me the hell off, watching Sister get excited for the people she likes has been fun. During Cody Rhodes' few little hope spots during the first match of the evening, the WWE Smackdown! Money in the Bank Ladder Match, I thought that her squealing was going to make my eardrums pop. I'm not entirely a fan of Cody Rhodes', although as a fellow former high school wrestler from the same state who competed in the same tournaments and probably against some of the same people I do have to give him some love,, but I just don't think that I'm in his target demographic, especially in his new gimmick as the "Dashing" Cody Rhodes. I did feel myself getting excited a little bit during the hope spot at the end for Christian and Matt Hardy, the two people still in WWE that I find myself marking for hardest (along with, I don't know, the rest of everybody else in every live crowd I've been in where the two wrestled), but it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that Vince and company weren't going to allow anybody who is his own man to go over company golden boys like Drew McIntyre (and his lisp and his diabetes) so I felt kind of silly after they both fell off the ladder. It was nice to see Kane win, though. Kane has been involved in so many freaking stupid angles--and I've been watching him for so long, that I can't feel bad for that at all, so in that I count the first MitB ladder match a success. The RAW Divas match wasn't awful, and so far Mysterio vs. Swagger has been good (especially the throw off the top rope by Swagger). The Wholesome, Adorable Canadian Children vs. the Wholesome, Adorable Samoan Children was also good, even if thought that David Hart Smith had suffered a concussion or broken his neck or something at one sort of scary moment.

More to come, probably, about the RAW Money in the Bank match, later.

RAW Money in the Bank ladder match wasn't bad, either. I went in terrified that Randy Orton would win and... really... do we really need Randy Orton as champion? Again? Really? Really? This constant quoting of the Miz's catch phrase is my way of honoring, I guess, our Money in the Bank winner... John Morrison! No, no, I'm kidding... our winner was... Little Spike Dudley? What the hell? He wasn't even in the match! No, no, no, our winner was the Miz. After an exciting math, with a hope spot by Evan Bourne that caused my sister to shriek so loudly that dogs a mile down the road started barking and a seven man team up against Mark Henry that make look like a beast, and a clever spot on the ladder with Maryse and Ted DiBiase, the Miz took the briefcase and was so happy that he actually cried. This was a beautiful moment, to me, and I was able to appreciate it almost as much as Layla, my little English Muffin, retaining her belt against Kelly Kelly.

Strength and deconditioning : The importance of a rest day

The most important thing you can do, if you're trying to get bigger, get strong, lose weight, whatever, is to exercise with great intensity every time you step into the gym or onto the track. By the time you finish you ought to be staggering, dripping and gasping, but not hurting... endorphins will keep you from hurting, and if you're truly hurting, you're doing it wrong.

Anyway, that's the most important thing: working out hard. The second most important thing is to take a rest day, when you need it. When one lifts weights, one causes micro-tears in the muscles affected by the movement you engage. If you never allow these tears to heal, then they'll continue to get bigger, making you weak and eventually causing an injury. If you give them a day or two to heal, however, they muscle fibers will knit together, a little bigger and tougher than before, and produce a world class physique! That feeling of soreness, common to beginners and those just returning the Iron Game, is called Direct Muscle Soreness. Serious strength athletes, like power lifters, face a more insidious problem called Deep Muscle Fatigue. DMF is a leaden feeling that pervades the body, emanating in waves from the core and making it impossible to move the limbs. When the symptoms of DMF are ignored, and you keep punishing your body, you'll end up blowing a lift and hurting yourself, or find yourself simply unable to get out of bed in the morning, since advanced DMF feels like a mild form of paralysis. I can remember one of my biggest limit squats, taken earlier this summer... I had been working out hard for two weeks with little rest, and knew that a limit squat was a bad plan. I was all hyped up, though, and there were a couple of cute girls over on the cardio machines watching, and that can make a man foolish. After barely beating my old PR, I staggered two steps back, got light headed, and fainted into my two spotters arms. I was just glad that I didn't get a nose bleed. I have seen that, during a max on squat or dead lift, and worse. For the next three days, I moved through life like something out of a zombie movie, sluggish and moaning for food. It was the worst!

I say all of this because today is a good day for rest, like Dr. Seuss used to talk about a great day for up. I've been exercising hard for a full week, and just need to rest. There are bruises all over my body... my neck is bruised from back squats, my chest from bench press, and there are huge, ugly, purple blotches on my shoulders from cross-grip front squats. The ever present scuff marks on my shins, from dead lifting, are raw and ready to bleed, and I have a huge, ugly abrasion on my stomach from a clean that I almost lost at the top without racking it completely. I look like I just lost a fight with a small, angry bear, and to prevent something bad from happening I took today off and am mostly sitting still, aggravating as that is to me. Resting can be as hard as working out, but it's just as important!

Culinary Arts 1: Curried Chicken

I absolutely love chicken curry, and can make it pretty well, using this here recipe. It tastes good and isn't bad for you at all. In this healthy conscious craze we're having now, what with Michelle Obama and Dr. Nancy on MSNBC and all that, I don't think anyone can say that's a bad thing, right?

INGREDIENTS

1 pound of cubed chicken breast
1 big can of tomato sauce
1 cup of plain yogurt
1 onion, chopped fine
1 tsp of garlic powder
1 tsp of fenugreek
1 tsp of tumeric
1 tsp of cinnamon
1 tsp of ginger
1 tsp of coriander
1 tsp of cardamon
1 tsp of garam masala
1 tsp of black pepper
1 tsp of salt
1 tbs of red curry powder
1 block of ghee or regular butter


Fry the chicken out nice and fast over high heat, and then set it aside. In a sauce pan, melt the ghee, and in another, toast your spices but don't let them burn. Nothing on earth smells or tastes worse than burnt spices, not even the freezer that had died for two weeks during a 100 degree heat wave that I had to clean out! Well, maybe that, but not much else. After the spices are nice and war, put them and the ghee together and saute for a while, until everything is cooked down together nice and gooey. Add the tomato sauce and yogurt, and stir them together. Allow everything to gel together into a nice, thick curry gravy, getting good and hot but not boiling. When it looks like it's about to boil but not quite, put the chicken in. Simmer for about ten minutes and then devour it. And believe me, this is so good that devour is definitely the right word! Best served over basmati or jasmine rice, alongside na'an and a few Indian vegetables. Chicken can be substituted with lamb, pork, shrimp, fish, blocks of tofu or chick peas. I guess you could use beef, too, but using beef in a dish eaten mostly by Hindus just feels wrong to me, somehow, even though I'm not a Hindu myself. Go figure.

Women's Wrestling 4: Blond Canadian Midget Brawl for All

TNA Impact continues to impress me with the quality of the Knockouts and their feuds. Although most of the division has been taken up, lately, with the Beautiful People wrangling over every piece of gold available to a woman in TNA, with a little bit of Tara, Nikki Roxx and Daffney mixed in for fun every once in a while, the feud that I've really been watching has been Taylor Wilde and Sarita.

Mexico City's Sarita is one of the better workers TNA has, male or female, and has been criminally underused lately (probably because she actually requires payment with a check that won't bounce). I love the way she moves, her crisp offense and her sheer intensity. When Sarita bears down after someone with those brown eyes flashing, she sells it so ferociously that you, the viewer, are even a little bit afraid. Add in the fact that Sarita is a solid promo woman and you've got a seriously dangerous package. Taylor Wilde, the first woman in TNA to pin the absolutely amazing Awesome Kong, is no slouch in the ring either. Although I pick on Taylor all the time (often calling her a blond Canadian midget, calling back a great comment of Daffney's on TNA Spin Cycle during their feud during summer 2009, or "an expensive little piece of pookie," due to her Amazon Wish List) there are none of TNA's current Knockouts that I'd rather watch wrestle, including Rosie Lottalove and Daffney. Although those two characters appeal to me more, Taylor's ring work is much better than Rosie's and a little crisper than Daffney's. Although she isn't much to write home about on the stick, she is miles beyond any of the Beautiful People, and her lack of TV time recently is a crime. Hopefully this feud will Sarita will help her to develop her character, get both of these extremely talented women some attention and garner them the pushes they so richly deserve.

The match itself was vicious and exciting. Each strike was stiffer than a board and I could see bruises being raised on Sarita's arms and Taylor's back. Maybe it wasn't the Dreamer/Sandman Singapore Cane match, but it was the rawest, most violent action I've seen between two women since Daffney and Taylor last summer, and miles beyond what WWE is giving us right now. Taylor sold the choke so well at the end, hanging there like she was dead, that I felt myself getting worried for a moment. It was easy to suspend disbelief there and to feel it, to feel that it was a real for a second, and I love that.

Strength and deconditioning 5: Epic chest

Normally, I really cannot stand upper body training. Squats are my best workout. My legs and posterior chain are incredibly powerful, allowing me to pick up a massive, ego boosting amount on that lift. As long as I have gloves on or my hands wrapped, dead-lifts are the same way. The hand protection keeps me from ripping the calluses on my hands open and I can drag a fairly enormous amount of weight off the ground. This keeps me big, tight and fit, and makes me fairly popular with friends and family who need furniture moved! You can't just do lower body exercises, though, even if the squat is the most important movement in the world and the dead lift a close second. One must, at some point, work the upper body. I do not like working the upper body nearly as much as I do my legs and back. For one thing, my shoulders are a federally declared disaster area. I had to have my left one repaired and rebuilt after a disastrous wrestling match when I was sixteen (I was a fairly good light heavyweight... but my opponent was, unfortunately, a fairly good super heavyweight) and am constantly afraid that it's going to just fall apart of its own volition. The closest it has come, interestingly enough, didn't come from lifting some of the enormous weights that I pick up but from picking up a box of plastic containers when I did bakery work. Go figure. I also have, I'm almost certain, some undiagnosed football damage in the right shoulder, and so I am as careful as I can be with any pressing movements.

I do, however, work my upper body at least twice a weak, sticking to big, compound movements. Avoiding isolation exercises forces my muscles to work in concert with each other, engages my central nervous system and keeps me from putting too much pressure on any single joint that might be weak. The first exercise that I like to do is the bench press. Although I cover it in much more detail in "Strength and Deconditioning 1: Bench pressing in theory and practice," I can summarize here by saying that the golden rules for benching effectively are to maintain a tight arch in the back, squeeze the traps together and hold the bar like you'll die if you let go... after all, you might! Pull the bar to your chest in a controlled descent, hold it for a second at the bottom of your ribcage and then, with a jolt coming from the legs, drive it back up hard. Here is a very large man doing an even larger bench press.

The second exercise I do at every upper body session is the incline bench press. I set the bench at about a sixty degree angle and do sets of 6 with 205, 225, 245, 265 and 285. I lower the bar in a slow, controlled manner--this is especially important on incline bench since the bar is lowered so close to the throat, and you really don't want to drop it on your throat--pause for a second on my chest and then drive it up hard, fast and smooth. Always come from a dead stop. Bouncing the weight off your chest in any pressing movement scrambles the central nervous system and can actually make you weaker, but coming from a dead stop forces the muscles to work hard and grow. Ken Fantano, the legendary power lifter and owner of the Muscle Factory, did six sets of six dumbbell incline presses with a 220 pound dumbbell in either hand, which is ridiculously enormous. Here is the same man incline pressing 405 strictly and very impressively.

Although there are many exercises which can work the upper body--including the fly and the decline press--I always find myself coming back to these two and have had excellent success with both of them.

Other interests 3: Cheerleader Melissa screwed like Bret Hart?

I call absolute bullshit on this pathetic, low class, trashy decision by RCW. Melissa Anderson, also known as Cheerleader Melissa, Raisha Saeed, Alissa Flash and the Future Legend (she is one!) has been stripped of the River City Wrestling championship because her match went thirty seconds over the fifteen minute time limit. This is a sad little bush league decision by a sad little bush league promotion. Melissa is one of the best workers in the world, male or female, and brought more prestige to River City Wrestling than it's ever seen before and probably ever will again. Because she is the first woman to win any promotion's most eminent title it all makes Jeromy Sage's decision stink of the ugly sexism which pervades the dark corners of our sport, slinking around the spotlight, a spotlight which so recently fell on a tall, slim, beautiful, athletic brunette, smiling radiantly, golden belt upraised. We are not privy to the backstage discussions which precipitated this decision. Perhaps he or someone associated with his organization couldn't stand to share the spotlight with this woman, or believes she should be consigned to those shadowy corners acting as nothing but an object for masculine titillation. We can't know this; we weren't there. We can know this, though, Jeromy Sage: you cannot take that moment in the spotlight away from Melissa, the first woman chosen to hold a promotion's highest honor up to heaven's approval, and we can know that your small promotion's spotlight could never shine bright enough to adequately highlight her glory. Even if this is just a work, and it might be, it's still a bad work and it reflects poorly on the sport as a whole.

Strength and deconditioning 4: Squat workout heaven

I think I had the most perfect squat workout in history, yesterday. Instead of my usual 5 sets of 3, which leads to a pretty decent fifteen reps at giant weight, I chose to do 4 sets of 6 on back squat and 4 sets of 6 on cross arm front squat. All the back squats were done with Olympic protocol: high bar, narrow stance, straight drop from the knees and a super deep bottom, ass to grass, as they say. This is what Marty Gallagher calls the "perfect squat." The front squats were done with the bar high on my front deltoids and clavicle, almost high enough to choke me but not quite, and I paused at the bottom for one second before coming up. Back squats were 315, 355, 405 and 425. Front squats were 205, 255, 275 and 315. I honestly felt like my thighs were going to fail on the last set of each one, especially the front squats, which are a monstrous strain on the quadriceps anyway.

Although some people don't seem to like them--my last weightlifting coach, who was a great coach by the way, among them--squats are absolutely my favorite exercise. I can move a massive amount of weight, and nothing stimulates strength and muscular growth like pushing huge weight. Stimulation of the quadriceps and posterior chain also promote the release of testosterone, and this causes all of your other exercises, from bench press to clean and jerk, to be more effective. By doing squats (and dead lifts) along with other big, full body and multiple joint movements, you can't help but get big, thick and strong! Yet another reason to avoid those lat pull downs and cheat curls that the kid in the Ed Hardy shirt and backwards cap is doing... over there in my thrice damned squat rack, of course. For one thing, he's not getting the most bang out of his buck by stimulating the most muscle fibers--even if he was doing squats, which he's not--and secondly, he looks like an absolute, total and complete tool shed, and you really don't want to be anything like him, right? Even if he does score with rather skanky blond bartenders by pretending to be an MMA warrior that fights in a cage because of a vaguely homoerotic weekend he and his "brosephs" once had. There's an old Russian proverb, which I read first through Pavel Tsatsouline, which goes, "Feed the wolf!" Your legs are the wolf. Feed them and the whole body will grow.

What is a Real Man? 1: Don't be a god damned idiot.

You know, the way guys act sometimes really fries my butt, as the great Lt. Colonel Henry Blake would say. Early this morning, former WWE Women's and Diva's champion Mickie James (twitter.com/mickiejamesdiva) tweeted:

"Got back to my room a bit ago... To find a note from a fan tucked under my door! Wth?! Pacing the floor.... How did they find me?! Don't know if I should be flattered or freaked. I'm going with both... Oh boy..."

and

"So needless to say I barely slept. Weird night! Deadbolted the door. Up every half hour.. Knocking on my door! Seriously.. Os there no such thing as respect or privacy anymore?! Calls from private #'s(which I never answer)... Hmmm... Weird! Just freaking weird!"

Poor kid. I really feel bad that this gal couldn't feel safe in her own bloody hotel room, so I have to say to the guy who did this... is being a dick-head just your hobby, or do you plan on making a career of it? Jesus tap-dancing Christ, who on earth thinks it's a good idea to meet a woman by slipping notes under her door and harassing her all night? That's middle school junk brother, middle school. If that's when you reached your highest level of social development I feel sorry for you. If I see a woman that I think is attractive out in public, whether she's Mickie James, former WWE Diva, or Rebekah the Cute Barista from Barnes and Noble, I'll walk up and say, "Why hello there, how are you doing?" She may choose to not respond to me and, if she doesn't, then, hey, it's her loss, right? I'm a wonderful person with lots of interesting things to say. But odds are she will at least say, "Fine thanks, how are you?" This will lead to pleasant conversation and getting to know each other. If it goes any further, and we eventually get to know each other better, then beautiful. If it doesn't... then, well, I still had a nice conversation with a little cutie-pie, right? And that's always a victory in my book.

Now, as one who is always willing to admit bias, I might be particularly sensitive to this subject for a personal reason or two. I have, in the past, dated girls who were involved in the beauty pageant scene, including a runner up (I forget the number) to Miss Teen Georgia. I mean, hell, if you type in her name on google you'll get modeling pictures, so I know a little bit about what it's like for a pretty girl in the public eye, and so I'm full of empathy there. I am also a large and very powerful person in aspect. As a six foot tall, three hundred pound power lifter with the requisite power lifter goatee with around 15 percent body fat, I can be kind of an intimidating presence when I walk into a room and have to turn sideways to get through the door. Have you ever seen a guy who weighs three hundred pounds at fifteen percent? I look like I ought to be trying to eat Frodo in the mines of Moria, and it takes some doing sometimes to convince folks that I'm not going to grind their bones for bread. Guys like this little jeeter who aggravated Miss James last night make it harder for all of us... little women feel like they have to be afraid all the time, and big men have to walk on thinner and thinner eggshells.

Now, I don't agree with this article totally because... well, let's just say there's a whole hell of a lot of problems with it, but until I can write a better one I'd suggest anybody interested in how to behave around ladies go here: http://kateharding.net/2009/10/08/guest-blogger-starling-schrodinger%E2%80%99s-rapist-or-a-guy%E2%80%99s-guide-to-approaching-strange-women-without-being-maced/. As I said, I'm not in love with this post, but it and the comments following it will give at least some food for thought and maybe provoke discussion, at least until I can write a better one!

Strength and Deconditioning 3: Back up

What's the major problem with most young men in the gym today? Well, other than the fact that most of them are unrepentant douche-bags. And the fact that they have a love affair with Nautilus machines matched in passion only by the Brownings. And the fact that they do biceps curls in the squat rack. And the fact that they pick up girls by leaning (usually against a squat rack I want to use or a tree with weights on it that I need) into them and murmuring, deeply and soulfully I assume, "Yeah, brah, doo, yah, I'm, like, a cage fighter, brah, do, yah, brah..." The girl usually eats it up and they sleep together that afternoon, touching off a torrid two year affair which ends with her crying and him still saying, "Yeah, brah, doo, yah, brah, doo, fun, just fun, no strings, yah, doo..."

Actually, come to think of it, there are a lot of problems with young men in the gym today. Is it any wonder that I built my own gym to work out in? Anyway, the thing that I'm thinking, the major problem, is that young men don't pay any attention to the development of their backs! The level of attention which these guys pay to their chests, and especially their abdominal muscles, leads to a dreadfully unbalanced physique. No one wants to see a six pack on a cadaver (well, with the advent of Twilight who knows...), after all. The men who have been most dominant at Mr. Olympia in the past thirty years have been men like Sergio Olivia, Lee Haney, Ronnie Coleman and--most of all--the great Dorian Yates have all dominated the field with their broad, overpowering backs. Power lifters and Olympic lifters build their entire base of strength, for clean and jerk, snatch, dead lift, squat and even bench press off of enormous traps and lats. Although most "fitness professionals," who usually look like someone grafted the Miz's head onto Edward Cullen's body, advocate isolation exercises for the back, the fact that they look like they have the Miz's head grafted onto Edward Cullen's body should suggest, perhaps, that their advice probably won't make you a whole lot stronger. Disregard it and stick to big, sweeping, compound exercises that work the back as a whole. The body's muscles are all interrelated anyway, and so torturing them one at a time doesn't really do anything other than waste a lot of time. With compound exercises, you can torture all these muscles together, save a lot of time and actually get some results!

I work my back once or twice a week, depending on what else I'm doing, and use one of two protocols. Sets are always done with heavy weights and low reps, either three sets of three reps or five sets of two reps, and each rep is done with a strict pull and full muscular contraction at the top.

One protocol that I use is made up of dead lifts and power cleans. The dead lift is an excellent full body exercise, and develops the lower back, lats, glutes and thighs like nothing other than the squat. The proper dead lift is done with the bar close to the shins--you will get scuffs on your shins doing this right, it's the mark of a power lifter!--and the thrust should come from your thighs and posterior chain forcing your back to straighten, driving your heels through the floor. Observe this video, cribbed off of youtube, of Andy Bolton's world record 1008 pound dead lift: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5groVHlMkRE Do not pull with your arms. If the weight is at all an honest weight for your dead lift, pulling with the arms will result in failure at best and a torn biceps at worst. A torn biceps isn't pretty... it leaps off the bone and rolls up your arm like a slug wincing away from salt. You do not want to experience it!

The second exercise on this protocol is the power clean. This lift, popular with football teams all over the country and closely related to the Olympic full clean, is a pulling movement that works the upper and lower trapezius and medial and anterior deltoids. The bar is pulled from the floor the the waist, and then scooped under the the thighs with a double knee bend. At this point, pull explosively from the traps and shoulders--keeping the arms straight to avoid injury--and flex the quadriceps. This movement should be follow by a jump off the floor. As counter intuitive as it sounds to jump while holding a barbell in your hands, this allows you to fling the weight high enough for you to pull your body under it and catch it, in a quarter squat position (as opposed to the Olympic clean's full squat) in a rack across your collarbones. Recover, stand straight, and replace the weight on the floor. For an example, watch this video of a gigantic, 400 pound power clean from youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LyV7fwr7ik.

Although there are many other exercises to work your back--including the Romanian dead lift, row, high pull and--my favorite of these--the Kroc row, the above exercises helped me to reach a 500 pound dead lift. I hope that they help anyone else who comes across them just as much.

Other interests 2: One bad Cheerleader

Melissa Anderson, aka The Future Legend, Alissa Flash and Cheerleader Melissa, is probably the best woman wrestler working today... at least in my humble opinion, that is. To be honest with you, I believe that the Future Legend is better than most male wrestlers, and she proved it earlier this week with a win against River City Wrestling's Joey Spector when she became RCW's first female champion, and the first woman to hold any coed or male wrestling promotion's top belt. Anderson works a vicious style, which mixes occasional technical brilliance with aggressive, nasty brawling and power moves, and leaves her opponents reeling with an array of moves that draws on the Japanese, American and Mexican traditions.

For a short example of Anderson's style, check out http://tinyurl.com/39jqd8e. Her twitter is twitter.com/FutureLegendCF, and her official website is www.cheerleadermelissa.com. Her body of work, especially against arch rival and sometimes partner MsChif, is available on many of the SHIMMER and Chickfight collections, and I cannot recommend it enough. Watch this Cheerleader, ladies and gentlemen... she's hiding hard fists under those pom poms.

Spicy Spiritual Curry 1: Mahamaya and Time in Sanskrit

Another one of the topics about which I love to endlessly ramble is spirituality. Although I'm no cleric (or other religious, as the survey forms say), it's a subject to which I dedicate a lot of thought. My favorite fields inside this broad discipline are Hinduism, Buddhism, the more esoteric forms of Christianity and Judaism and epistemological ontology, or, how we know what we know (or what we think we know) about reality.

A topic which has sat heavily on my mind, lately, is the notion of alternative universes, movement between them, and how the way we apprehend time time determines the sort of cosmos that we'll live in. The Hopi language, for example, only talks about subjective and objective verbs, with no tense settings at all. Sanskrit, the language of the great Hindu theological works, doesn't use actions verbs very much. "Manu spoke with great wisdom," for example, would become, "Manu is speaking with great wisdom." Instead of the linear progression of time which Western languages, very action oriented, enforce on our patterns of thought, Sanskrit and it's associated derivatives promote a sense of unending "now"-ness and presence, an indelible and undeniable but equally untouchable solid "is-ness," as a teacher of mine once described it.

Hindu thought maintains that everything, from the lowliest atom to the greatest gods (and there's more commonality there than you'd think) is nothing but maya, commonly translated as "illusion," and that the universe is mahamaya, the Great Illusion, which flows out from, into and through the ineffable Brahman. A little story from the Vaishnavite tradition illustrates this principle perfectly.

"Once, long ago, a holy man, a seeker of truth, wanted to understand the meaning of maya. He traveled far and wide, trying to find the secret understanding that only study, meditation and deep awareness of the stillness of the universe can bring. Finally, frustrated that maya was eluding him, the holy man went to ask Vishnu, the great god himself. He found Vishnu asleep, and perched on the outer shell of the giant being's ear, shouting for him to wake up so that he could put him to the question.

After he had shouted for a little while, maybe two or three years, Krishna walked up alongside him and asked what on earth he was carrying on for. The holy man turned to Krishna and said, "I am seeking to know the meaning of maya. Can you tell me?"

Krishna thought about for a moment, maybe two or three years, and asked him, "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes," he said.

Krishna tapped the man's forehead, and he fell into a deep reverie. When he awoke, he found that he was a woman, about sixteen years old, with big brown eyes and a pretty smile. He loved life and his sisters and mother and father. A year or two later, his marriage was arranged to a handsome young man, the son of a wealthy merchant, and they fell deeply in love with each other.

Over the next fifty years they shared a good life. He had many children with this man he loved and they experienced all the pleasures and pains that families do. In some years business was good, and in others it was bad. When one of his children died shortly after being born, the holy man thought that he would die, and tore out his long, soft black hair in grief.

Finally, when he was an old man, the merchant's son, now a powerful merchant in charge of his later father's concern, died. It was not a painful death and he, as a good man who had always carried out his dharma, would have a good place on his next turn around life's wheel. The holy man was distraught when his husband died, unable to eat, sleep, drink or think of anything else but his agony, and performed the act of sutti by throwing himself upon the merchant's son's funeral pyre.

Suddenly, as the flames began to eat him and the smoke began to choke him, the holy man felt a bucket of water splash him in the face. Krishna was standing beside him, smiling inscrutably, the same smile that played on the great god Vishnu's face slumbering stories above them. "Ah," Krishna said, "good. I thought I might have tapped you on the head too hard; you were knocked out for nearly ten minutes!" The holy man was speechless. "Do you have any more questions of me?" He still could not form his thoughts, which now ranged the depths and breadth of the cosmos, into words, the mysteries were too great. Krisha laughed, unable to contain his mirth any longer. "It is good," he said, "that we had this discussion. Now you will go from this holy place and understand maya!"

I have always particularly liked that story, for whatever reason. For more on the subject of time and perception, look into http://www.amazon.com/There-Life-After-Death-Afterlife/dp/184837299X/ref=sr_1_17?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1278700251&sr=1-17

For more information on the Hindu myths, check out http://www.amazon.com/Ganesha-Goes-Lunch-Classics-Mandala/dp/1601091028/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1278700358&sr=1-2

Other interests 1: TNA Knockout report for Impact Wrestling, 7/8/2010

Sometimes I like to write about things outside of picking up heavy stuff... actually, I like to write about that a lot! Here's the first such entry, a little commentary on my absolute favorite wrestler's match tonight against... well, it's basically being treated like a filler match before her opponent's match at a PPV (Daffney's feud is currently happening on the web show Xplosion), but Daffney (http://twitter.com/screamqueendaff) wrestled her heart out as always and looked great, especially considering this is her return to Impact after a long, nasty injury sustained against the ring rookie Rosie Lottalove. Angelina Love (er, I don't know her twitter) looked good, too, returning after an arduous few months of injuries and visa troubles, and it's great to see the TNA Knockouts division coming back together after a few wobbly, unfocused months.

The match was short but fierce and included lots of loud chops to the chest, which left pink prints on the Scream Queen's porcelain skin, a nifty looking arm-bar (Chris Jericho would be proud) and a vicious jawbreaker to the top of the head, which left Angelina reeling for a few moments. After few minutes (too few but you can't have everything, right? and most tv matches are fairly short...) of back and forth offense between the two women, Angelina won with a lifting reverse STO which she calls the Lights Out, a move that I've loved since Chris Kanyon called it the Flatliner and Edge called it the Downward Spiral. Madison Rayne, TNA's Knockouts champion, appeared on the ramp after the match to taunt her PPV opponent, Angelina Love, and a career vs. title (with the special stipulation that if Maddie's partners, Velvet Sky or Lacey Von Eric, interfered the title would be forfeit) gimmick was added to the upcoming contest. I enjoyed the match. Watching Daffney wrestle is always a treat, and the match--although short--showcased both women's talents and furthered at least Angelina's story line. All in all a decent show.

Watch the match here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZIUidfTdNE

For more information on this match and all your women's wrestling needs, check out diva-dirt.com. For all your Daffney merchandising needs (and believe me, if you see this woman wrestle you will have them) check out goth-goddess.org and daffneyshouse.com.

Strength and Deconditioning 2: Bench pressing in theory and in practice

In addition to being one of the competitive lifts in power lifting, the bench press is one of the most effective exercises for developing the entire upper body. The whole apparatus gets into the act while bench pressing... the pectoralis major and anterior deltoid drive the bar off the sternum, the traps dig into the bench and provide a base for pressing big weight, the lats allow the bar to be lowered to the sternum in a controlled fashion and the triceps allow for a big, powerful lock out. In addition to being so darned healthy for the whole upper body, the bench press is also a really important 'ego' lift. Although the dead lift, squat and power clean are probably better indicators of overall total body strength, when someone wants to know how strong you are, he or she asks, 'What do you bench press?' When I was in high school I used to have to lower my lashes and mumble, "Eh, 275 or 285." This was awful! A bench below 300 pounds can make you feel like less of a man, especially if you weigh over two hundred, or at least it always did me This maybe isn't a fair or good thing, but one can't help one's body image or obsessive compulsive issues with gender construction, right? Now, however, since I've learned how to bench press correctly, I've shot up to a reasonably respectable 435 pounds and the sky is the limit!

The first thing to do, when preparing the proper bench press is to find good position on the bench. One should scrunch up into a tight arch with the upper trapezius and buttocks digging deeply into the bench. The legs are clasped tightly to the bench, coiled under the body like a spring, and the lumbar region forms a tight arch, tight enough to be uncomfortable. This may seem counter-intuitive--who wants to be uncomfortable while working out, right?--but this set up provides a strong base for pressing up big weights. Like so many of us learned in our world humanities (or art history or world history) courses, the arch is the strongest, most stable structure in the world. The arch must be tight, too, because when one looks at Roman and Greek arches, notice that they're made out of stone, not gelatin. Heavy weights can only be supported on a tight, hard arch, and the human body is no exception! Don't worry about the discomfort... you're only going to be doing this for a couple of seconds per rep, right?

After the perfect arch has been achieved, grip the bar about one hand's width outside of the smooth area at the center. This will provide a good area of support and will spread the weight evenly out over all your pressing areas, the pectorals, triceps and deltoids. Grip the bar tightly, like you're trying to strangle it, trying to murder it, and get your game face on. This is the time to take a few deep breaths, pull your abdominal wall tight, and maybe count to five or six, to really fire yourself up. When the desired state of mental agitation is achieved, lift the bar out of the rack and bring it over your lower chest, arms straight, body so tight that you feel like your back's about to break.

This is where bench pressing starts to get slightly complicated and very cool. When the bar is right over your sternum, right at the end of your bone before it becomes the soft flesh of the belly, begin to pull it downward using your lats and triceps, tucking the elbows into the side as you go. Do not allow gravity to lower the weight for you or the battle will be lost. If the weight is is the control of the situation, you're going to get crushed; hunt the tiger, don't let the tiger hunt you. When the weight is resting on the end of your sternum let it pause for a second. Don't allow it to descend any further into you, or you won't be able to drive it back up, but let the barbell come to a dead stop to prevent any bouncing off the body. This is where most people get messed up bench pressing. The bar will bounce off the chest violently, leaving bruises and robbing the muscles of the 'set' they need to recover and push the weight, or they'll lower the bar too high on the chest, even near the throat, once again not allowing the body to derive the correct leverages for driving the weight.

Now that the weight is set on the chest, we can finally push it back up and complete the lift! Start by flexing the quadriceps and caves, thrusting into the floor from the balls of the feet to the heels of the shoes. This will transfer energy up through the hips and create a jolt that makes the bar explode off the chest. Do this in tandem with pressing through the shoulders and chest as hard as possible, almost as if you were trying to drive yourself through the bottom of the bench and into the floor instead of pushing the weight off your chest, and expanding the abdomen violently. This provide momentum and helps to force the weight up. Gravity is your enemy, here, and you need as many allies against it as you can have, right? According to Mary Gallagher's book, The Purposeful Primitive, the great bench press champion Ken Fantano performed this feat so violently that he blew all the rivets off a specially made, four inch weight lifting belt. Fantano did this while pressing 645, without a shirt no less, so you probably won't destroy any weight lifting belts while you're making it happen, but this is pretty impressive nonetheless!

Now that the leg drive and chest are engaged and the weight is moving up, the triceps get into the act and finish the job. Flare the elbows as you press up and let your triceps lock, giving the weight no choice but to jump upwards instead of flattening you. Push in a straight line, not in the exaggerated 'J' curve that some weight lifting coaches--who apparently have never lifted a weight that wasn't somehow attached to a Nautilus machine--recommend. The straight push engages all the muscles and provides much less opportunity for disaster than the J curve, which seems like it could only lead to tragedy after dropping the weight on your throat and cutting your head off. A lot of people have weak triceps, making the lock-out hard, but exercises like the pin press, board press, close grip bench press and floor press (all to be covered in a future essay) can develop them into the big, powerful weapons you need to finish the bench. After locking the barbell out, take a deep breath and either rack the weight or begin the next rep. You are now a bench pressing machine!

Strength and Deconditioning 1: Who I am and what I do here.

As a neophyte to intermediate power lifter, I spend way more time than any normal human being should thinking about how to pick up big, heavy pieces of metal. I say "normal" human being because, well, let's face it... an elite power lifter who can jack 650 pounds off his chest raw and squat 950 raw isn't normal in any way, shape or form... sometimes you begin to wonder if he's even a human being! My 435 on bench is nothing to sneeze at, though, and it's not the kind of thing you get by pissing around in the gym, talking about the great set of curls you just did in the squat rack (all while the huge, bearded, tattooed biker got behind you got angrier and angrier...). Although I'm relatively weak compared to really big power lifters, my raw bench and raw squat have been bigger than most I've encountered in commercial gyms and university gyms, or at least the university gyms which didn't cater to a nationally ranked Division I football program (where I can still at least hold my own, thank goodness).

What does this all add up to? Hopefully it puts me in a pretty good position to help other normal people, who maybe have good leverages but aren't complete genetic freaks yet, to build up their bench press and squat. I might not help you win any world records--hell, I haven't won any yet--and I can't help you to develop sexy six-pack vampire abs (who needs em!?!?) but I can promise that you'll grow bigger, thicker, somewhat leaner and a hell of a lot stronger if you follow my advice. I've seen a guy's bench press max jump twenty-five pounds in two and a half weeks using my protocols, protocols liberally cribbed from such enormous raw bench masters as Hugh Cassidy (who used back of sets to keep blood in the muscle) and Kenny Fantano, master of pressing from a dead stop to torment the CNS into responding. Now, the guy who I was coaching is a total beginner, and that means a lot for quick gains in strength, but that much growth in less than three weeks is pretty darned impressive.

So, as this little blog goes along, I'll put up my theories on lifting and training, eating (here's a hint... do a lot of it). I'll also review comic books (I'm a big ol' comic book nerd), and ramble about professional wrestling--mostly stuff like Shimmer Women Athletes but some other stuff. I hope anyone who comes across this enjoys, learns something, has her his life changed... any of that good stuff.