Friday, August 18, 2017

Meet the Deplorables, Eight Months in

Pointless Venture thought we would check back in with all of those humble souls who voted Donald Trump President of the United States. What do the deplorables have to say?


Bret Adkins, 27 years old, formerly employed at Borg Warner, favorite hobby was jerking it to big diesel engines.

Current Whereabouts: County jail after arrested for selling heroin.

Evaluation of Trump's Performance: "Big D's sure is fucking over a lot of those Washington homos, ain't he? Heard he rustled a few feathers for not criticizing white people when Black Lives Matter terrorists ran over a white girl in Charlotte. White people should have the ability to protest just like all those whiny minorities. Met a solid bro who was jailed for speaking German and cosplaying in a Stormtrooper uniform. When I get out, I might meet with his gang and burn some crosses and shit. Trump will protect our rights! Go big D!"



Candice Lawrence, 35 years old, professional house wife, favorite hobby was gradually letting herself go.

Current Whereabouts: Parents' house after husband left with secretary.

Evaluation of Trump's Performance: "I'm a little disappointed, to be honest. I thought Ivanka would have a bigger role in President Trump's White House, but her Jewish husband is hogging the spotlight with all his Russian meetings. Really think Ivanka could've done better--if she had to marry a Jew, then why not one that looked more like Paul Rudd than Jessie Eisenberg? Oh my, that's the wine talking. Please don't print that."



Anita Dooger, 40 years old, employed at In His Holy Fire church, favorite hobby was producing offspring.

Current Whereabouts: Walmart, loading up on toilet paper and paper plates.

Evaluation of Trump's Performance: "I think President Trump has done a wonderful, blessed job. God's wisdom has influenced his hand! Trannies are no longer allowed in the military, and Muslims better watch their backs! I have felt liberated to express my support in public for the crucifixion of homosexuals, which is a wonderful thing to share, let me tell you. President Trump will turn this nation back into a haven for Christian values!"


Bretfart1942, 22 years old, formerly employed at community college dining hall, favorite hobby was trolling for the lols.

Current Whereabouts: Mom's house, taking a break from the crushing pressure of two classes a semester.

Evaluation of Trump's Performance: "Honestly, I was hoping the whole system would just crash, and all the bitcoins I've mined would make me king of the wasteland, but things haven't quite proceeded as planned. The feminists are still working hard to undermine my masculinity, and President Trump hasn't done as much to rein them in as I would have hoped. Still, I've gotten plenty of lols from his presidency so far (have you watched a White House press conference? It's like a masterclass in internet doublespeak), and I only imagine they'll continue. Trump 2020! Pepe forever!"

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

The Diary of Mitch R. Singer


Somewhere over the rainbow, where skies are blue
Gangs of nazis drag people down the street, fat, fetid man-boys clad in sweat pants and army surplus camouflage. Spittle flies from their lips; when they speak, nothing comes out but haggard squeaks, mice-like squeals of discontent and fury. I sit around the table, nestled indoors, while my family sings for my thirty-second year. Thirty-two years seems too long--I feel as though I have crawled through sewers for eons and wandered dead woods for eternities--but I wear the sad face of acquiescence, smiling the toothy-smile for fate. One of the gangs has decided to beat a man in my front yard. Everyone keeps singing, even though his screams pierce through the thin glass and reverberate in these long halls. "Happy birthday to you," they say. Indeed. Happy birthday to me.


In the orchard, the smell of rotten apples in the air
One hand rises up while another comes down. Into the sack it goes, a fecund piece of fruit. After a while the weight of the picking bag hangs around your neck like a yoke. Around I go, a busy beast, my labors quiet and mechanized like the efficient piece of heavy equipment I have become. When the bag is full, it is emptied with great care, its contents as beautiful as any painting in a museum. I stare and become mesmerized by the red stripes, the splattering of color across pale, white flesh. Sometimes I can't help myself and eat as many as I can. Under my boots the failed droppings of the harvest melt into the earth, releasing an odor of vinegar that seems to linger for months, far after the memory of picking has faded. It is a pleasure being a tool, a senseless, yet useful, thing.


Outside my house, looking at the night stars
I come outside with a piece of birthday cake. It has white frosting and red and blue sprinkles. My neighbor has a huge American flag strung up on a pole in his yard. A night breeze rustles it, sending waves through the stars and stripes. I spot a hole in a white stripe the size of a bullet. There is shouting and chortling, and the gang that was out earlier walks down my street. There are about five of them, ugly boys, gangling or overweight. One of them sees me watching with my birthday cake and shouts something crude about my mother. It is strange; nights like these feel limitless, as though I could be any person if I only reached down into the depths of my history and pulled out a face to wear. A smile cracks my visage. The fork in my hands has ragged prongs, as though someone has taken the time to pull each of them into twisted metal teeth. "Happy birthday," I say as they stop and watch me approach. Happy birthday to each of us.

Saturday, August 5, 2017

Weightlifting: Hypertrophy Macrocycle Conclusion


I've been working with block periodization for four months now and have just concluded my hypertrophy macrocycle, during which I focused on multiple sets of eight reps with variations of the competition lifts. Working with lighter loads and higher reps has been more of a challenge than I predicted, but I'm confident that all this work will pay off in the coming months as I transition to a strength macrocycle and then finally to a peaking block. Let's go over how my training progressed, reviewing how I succeeded and what I could have done differently.

For my two squat days, I started off (as I did with all of my lifts) with 60 percent of my 1 rep max for 4 sets of 8. My first squat day was low bar squats, and my second was high bar. I probably should have started with front squats and high bar squats, which was the change I made after two months. The loads for the back squat variations are too similar, which made recovery difficult. I didn't do any assistance for my squat in the end, though I started off doing weighted step ups and pistol squats. I train in a basement, and I don't have access to a leg press or any other machines, so other than lunges or hack squats, my assistance options were limited, and honestly I didn't feel that I need them. 5 sets of 8 reps on the back squat pretty much drains me for the rest of the day. I went from doing 245 for 5 sets of 8 to doing 265 for 5 sets of 8 in the high bar squat--62 percent of my high bar max (390) to 68 percent. Looking at my record log, 275 is my 8 rep max in the high bar squat. Approaching your 8 rep max for 5 sets is good progression.

On deadlift day, I started with just 3 sets of 8 reps, using 295 lbs. Four months later, I was using 330 lbs for 4 sets of 8. So I went from 58 percent of my 1 rep max (510) to 65 percent. You can probably get away with using lower percentages with the deadlift because it is such a taxing lift. I plan on starting out with 70 percent in my strength block, just like everything else. We'll see how I progress. Had I more time and a less physical job, I would've added straight leg deadlifts as an assistance exercise.

The bench press had the most variation of all of my lifts. I cycled through incline benches, dumbbell presses, military presses, and paused bench presses. The close grip bench press was my only constant. I went from doing 185 lbs for 4 sets of 8 (70 percent of my best close grip, 260) to doing 4 sets of 8 with 210 lbs (80 percent). I felt like my bench form improved a lot and that I gain muscle in my pectorals from doing close grips. Looking at the percentage I ended up with, it's obvious that my max close grip bench press is greater than 260 lbs, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to do 4 sets of 8 with 80 percent. My best wide grip bench is 290, so hopefully that has went up.

I'm pretty content with my progression during my hypertrophy macrocycle. I added weight, volume, and improved my work capacity. Although my weight didn't seem to increase (hovering somewhere around 195, 196 lbs), my body composition changed for the better. The next three months will be devoted to a strength macrocycle, with the fourth month changing to a peaking block, after which I will start the whole thing again, provided I see some decent results. I'll post my strength program some time next week.

Monday, July 24, 2017

Detroit Rock Stars I'd Rather Have in Congress Besides Kid Rock


Yes, Kid Rock is your fat redneck uncle. He'd be great in the Senate, right?

Kid Rock is thinking of running for Senate. This is the world we live in now, a world where the writer of "Bawitdaba" can say he's considering a political career, and we all have to take it seriously, because Donald Trump is President, and there is no God. Here's a list of rock stars from Detroit that I'd prefer to Robert Richie.

 Don't eat the mic, Iggy.

1) Iggy Pop.

I have no idea what Mr. Pop's political affiliations are, but I have to imagine he's something of an idiot-anarchist. I can see it now--the Godfather of Punk enters the Senate chambers clad only in a pair of ripped jeans. He has a jar of peanut butter in one hand and some shards of broken glass in the other. He stares at Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and asks "What the fuck happened to that guy's chin?" Then he starts gyrating and smearing the peanut butter over his torso as he dances on broken glass.

Winners: Anarchists and gutter-punks who need a hip replacement and Uncle Sam's support.

Losers: Anyone expecting any sort of coherent position on any issue whatsoever.


Wacko-Jacko.

2) Jack White.

Professional musician and professional weirdo Jack White has always been something of a prickly character. He looks like Tim Burton and Jonny Depp's love child, and he has a fondness for taxidermy and beating up other rockers. Like Kid Rock, he is also something of a musical chameleon, switching from garage rock to alt-country to juke-joint blues. Unlike the Kid, he can actually play the guitar, although his voice sometimes sounds like a goddamn cat in heat.

Winners: Indie rockers, dead-animal enthusiasts.

Losers: Lovers of bananas and haters of guacamole.

Looks like he's about to rob a convenience store for a Mountain Dew and a carton of Menthols.
3) Eminem.
I mean, if you're going to pick a white-trash dude from Detroit to serve in the upper chamber of Congress, why not Eminem instead of Kid Rock? He's a bigger star, better rapper, and far greater innovator than the guy who wrote a whole fucking song over Sweet Home Alabama and Werewolves of London like that was okay or some shit. I'm sure Marshall Mathers has some perspective on the opioid crisis and low-class living, and despite his many beefs and crises over the years, he always seemed pretty intelligent to me, at least compared to Kid Rock.

Winners: Dr. Dre, trailer-parks, your teenage self.

Losers: Insane Clown Posse, your mom, maybe your children's children.

Looking good, ghost of Sonny Bono.

4) Ghost of Sonny Bono.

Flesh and blood Sonny Bono was a member of Congress, serving in the House of Representatives. Now that he's dead, why not shoot for the Senate? Sure, he might not get anything done, being dead and all, but if you're going to elect a Republican, why not a dead Republican? That's a compromise that I can live with.

Winners: The American People.

Losers: Kid Rock fans.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Shit Paul Ryan Has Been Dreaming of Since Drinking out of Kegs in College

Never forget.

Paul Ryan has been dreaming of cutting Medicaid since he was "drinking out of kegs in college." Here's some other shit the third man in line for the Presidency has been dreaming about since he was enjoying a college education paid in part by a federal aid program (Oh the hypocrisy!).

Mr. Speaker has been dreaming of a threesome with Ayn Rand, Ronald Regan, and Barry Goldwater since that one time he got really drunk in college and almost fucked a trash can.

Paul Ryan has been dreaming of internment camps for poor people since he read Atlas Shrugged and concluded that the world is divided into makers, takers, and candlestick bakers.

One of the leaders of the Republican Party has been dreaming of a lithe black man clad only in a pink thong named Shamoose every third Wednesday of the month for three years and is considering visiting a witch doctor to figure out what the fuck is up.

Mr. Ryan sometimes dreams of a 200 lbs bench press but he knows he will never possess the strength of a fourteen year-old boy, let alone a strapping sixteen year-old.

Sometimes, late at night, Paul Ryan dreams that he cannot hear all the suffering he has wrought. On nights like these, only a drink concocted with copies of the Fountainhead and the Holy Bible blended together with animal fat and virgin's blood can ease his troubled mind. Afterwards, he sleeps like a baby, though he'll awake early in the morning to vomit out a cud of half-digested paper.


Paul Ryan dreams of a version of Harry Potter where Voldemort wins, and all of Hogwarts is put to work building a magical version of Auschwitz that is powered on centaur blood.

Paul Ryan dreams of sleeping an entire night without letting out any bed farts.

Paul Ryan dreams of sitting on Donald Trump's face until he suffocates. This dream is usually followed by another where the President takes a huge crap on the Speaker's chest and then makes him eat it.

Paul Ryan will occasionally have a dream where he is a Batman villain. He always starts the dream as either the Joker or Bane, but by the end, he's turned into Calendar Man or the Mad-Hatter, and Batman always beats the shit out of him, quite literally.

Paul Ryan dreams that someday, he will be a real boy, but then he remember that he has no soul and Pinocchio was just a fable.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Theme Park Mistress: Vintage Park Mistress

A mean, lean collection of vintage songs from Theme Park Mistress. Marinated in cheap guitar pyrotechnics and cases of Miller High Life. Shake but do not disturb. Play loud on a broken stereo with all the lights off. You're welcome.