Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Weightlifting: 20 Rep Squats, Ditching the Bench Press


One old school bodybuilding routine I'd never tried was the famous 20 rep squat routine. You'd do one set of 20 reps in the squat, followed by 3 sets of pullovers, and then go drink a gallon of milk and call it a day. The pullovers were supposed to expand your rib cage, which they probably didn't do, but the 20 rep squats certainly worked. Seeing how I was burned out on heavy squats, I decided to give this a shot on my Tuesday workout. I've squatted 415 lbs low-bar style, but I went pretty light on these, since I rarely go over 5 reps. The first time I did 205, and it was like running a sprint up a hill with a 90 degree incline. Every week I've added 10 lbs, and today I did 235 for 20, which wasn't too bad. On Thursday I do front squats, usually working up to a heavy double or triple, and that, with the 20 rep squats, composes my squat work for the week. I hit a PR of 310 lbs in the front squat last week, and I'd like to push the 20 rep squats up into the 300 lbs range before going back to low rep training. All in all, I think high rep squats are a good challenge and an excellent way to break the monotony of training.

Another change as of late is my dropping all bench pressing in favor of strict overhead work. During the winter, I suffered some sort of shoulder injury, and now the bottom position of a bench press or even a push up is uncomfortable. If I press horizontally, my right shoulder usually aches for days afterwards, so I guess I've finally torn something. Overhead pressing gives me no shoulder pain. The bench press has a reputation as a shoulder destroyer, so if something starts hurting, I think it's probably best to just drop the lift unless you can afford shoulder surgery. Really the bench press is only essential for powerlifting, and if you don't plan on competing, there's no reason to bench. I'm 10 lbs off of overhead pressing 200 lbs, which would be a good PR for me, since I only weigh about 196 currently.

This brings me to my closing topic: choosing your own lifts. Don't be a slave to the deadlift, back squat, and bench press. The powerlifting big 3 don't necessarily have to be your big 3. Front squats, overhead presses, and cleans will build strength and athleticism as much if not more than the powerlifts. Cleans in particular are fun. I recently did 230 lbs, which isn't impressive, but I think it's more of a challenge to pick a weight up and get it to your shoulders than to simply lift it from the ground.

Saturday, May 28, 2016

A Satantic Interpretation of Hanson's MMMBop


You have so many relationships in this life
Only one or two will last
You go through all the pain and strife
Then you turn your back and they're gone so fast


In this first verse, Hanson explain the futility of having any sort of relationship with anyone besides Satan. Unlike human relationships, demonic bonds are eternal, and if you're gong to get hurt anyway, might as well be by a professional.

So hold on the ones who really care
In the end they'll be the only ones there
And when you get old and start losing your hair
Can you tell me who will still care
Can you tell me who will still care?


The Prince of Darkness cares, and will always be there for you through the good and the bad. Despite your human mortality, your eternal soul belongs to Satan, and he will always treasure it.

Mmmbop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du bop, ba duba dop
Ba du, yeah


Seemingly nonsense, this refrain is actually an ancient Aramaic prayer to Beelzebub, pledging one's devotion to the Lord of Flies. The surprising catchiness is by design; Beelzebub was the patron god of Semetic pop music, in addition to his other demonic titles.

                                            A contemporary depiction of the Lord of Flies.

Plant a seed, plant a flower, plant a rose
You can plant any one of those
Keep planting to find out which one grows
It's a secret no one knows
It's a secret no one knows
Oh, no one knows


Always recruiting for his undead army, Satan casts a large net, favoring a mass approach, even if it doesn't always succeed. The seeds of Satanism can grow anywhere; you have to keep planting to find out who is compatible.

Can you tell me? oh
No you can't 'cause you don't know
Can you tell me? oh yeah
You say you can but you don't know
Can you tell me? oh (Which flower's going to grow?)
No you can't 'cause you don't know
Can you tell me? (If it's going to be a daisy or a rose?)
You say you can but you don't know
Can you tell me? oh (Which flower's going to grow?)


Hanson laments the fact that they can't tell who will be a good Satanist and who won't. They resort to the same planting/flower analogy they used in the previous verse. Really, these Hanson guys are kind of hacks when it comes to diabolic imagery. They're no Megadeth, I'll tell you that. 

Thursday, May 26, 2016

The Hillsdale Paranormal Society's Guide to Surviving the Trump-Apocalypse

There will be blood, bros!

Alright dudes and dudettes, it looks like we're going to have a true-blue crazy MFer in the White House if the latest polls are to be believed, which I freaking don't. Everybody knows that the Illuminati really run the country, and that's why the Donald is getting such heat from them, because he's only like one-fifth Reptilian and not a pure blood like Hillary. Unlike most of his kind, Trump only lusts for human blood one or twice a year, and has to content himself with licking people's feet, which really pisses him off. He's also a pretty big racist and a card-carrying He-Man Woman-Hater, and a xenophobe at that. So if you're black, purple, or small-bosomed, you probably want to vote for Hillary (though I can't bring myself to after I discovered that she ate Michael Jackson's baby). I'm going to do y'all a solid and lay out how we can survive four years of small-handed iron baby-man rule.

1. Get your firearms, peeps! When Trump becomes President, blood will run in the streets, because guns and vigilante violence is what's going to make America great again. I'd recommend a 12 gauge and 9 millimeter Glock. Assault rifles are cool, but I'd rather get up close and personal with the vehement racists that'll be roving from home to home, looking for Miller High Life and any Prince albums (that's how they'll know you're gay). I'd also get a bat with some barbed wire wrapped around it, and M-80 fireworks because they're freaking rad. If you'd rather avoid conflict because you're scared of the KKK, then play some Fabulous Freebirds and start yelling at raccoons and that should keep them from burning your house down.

2. Stock up on Trump Bucks. One of the ways the crazy MFer in chief is going to make America not so mediocre is by putting his ugly mug on all of our money. Beat the man at his game and start putting his face on all of your money. To do this you need a scanner, a (preferably) dead skunk, and a box of crayons. By the way, counterfeiting is fully supported by the Donald because it shows entrepreneurship and that's the only thing that matters, really.

3. Start buying up real estate. In Trump's world, the most respected profession will be slum lord, since that was what Daddy Trump did, and he produced the world's biggest man-baby, which is cause for celebration in some corners (mostly places that worship man-babies, like Texas). I've already bought myself a couple of abandoned houses by painting my name on the front door in blood, which obviously makes the properties legally mine. There are a bunch of hobos that live there, and I let them eat black tar heroine and bugger themselves for the low, low price of me not calling the cops.


4. Make friends with the Morlocks. With the Donald as our leader, the Morlocks will decide that it is finally time to rise up and eat all of our butts. I'd recommend befriending as many Morlocks as you can. Usually they hang out on the internet in special reddit threads devoted to underage anime and men's rights activists. Sometimes you might see one at a Wal-Mart, since they blend in well there with the other wildlife. You can tell a Morlock by their gigantic eyes and shaggy blue fur. Also, they hate the Funky Bunch so don't say nothing about Mark Wahlberg. Learned that one the hard way.

5. Shrink your hands. Because Trump is terribly insecure, he will put a jihad out on all large-handed folks. If you've got big hands, you'll be rounded up and thrown into work camps with the other degenerates. I recommend looking up some Chinese foot binding techniques and trying them out on your hands. Warning: you might not be able to beat off for a while. I suggest doing one hand at a time.

6. Research time-travel. It'll be pretty hard to last all four years of Trump if you're not a jabroni or a Morlock, so maybe we should unite and try to go back in time and kill the Donald before he made the Apprentice and got all famous and shit. I heard there was a time when Keith Richards almost knifed him for talking too long when they were renting out some hotel; that would be a good time to approach Keef and give him some PCP so that he freaks out and hacks Trump to death. We could also just send a Terminator but Arnold's pretty old and he has bitch tits now. Somebody Doc Brown this shit and save us before it's too late!

 I got this photo off the Japanese internet. Maybe we should send Sly instead!

Friday, May 20, 2016

My Baby Should Definitely Turn Heel


There are some problems with the way my baby has been booked lately. Sure, he has that natural baby-face charm. He can certainly get the crowd on his side. His ring-work has been spot on, and you just can't help but root for the guy. Yet he's taking losses that he shouldn't. That baby down the street--Jefferson, or what the hell his name is--that kid botches every finish. Last week my baby gave that kid the match of his life. That kid's where he is on the card because of my baby. You see, my baby is a natural at putting others over. He's also an ass.

As I was changing his diaper yesterday, he looked me straight in the eye and then shot a stream of piss out of his little wiener that completely soaked my shirt. Dude has like a 10 foot arc on his stream. I know he did it on purpose. Sometimes when I'm feeding him, he fusses and fusses and throws his head around like he's a dinosaur. You can't please my baby when he's acting like that. And he knows it.

You want to see a crowd absolutely turn on someone? Then book my baby as a heel. He'll be slapping signs out of kid's hands. He'll say terrible things about the local sports team. He'll use eye gouges and hidden steel chairs to win matches. Kid's a natural, really. Hell, sometimes he doesn't poop for an entire day just so I'll have to change a huge blow out when he can't hold it in any longer. Doesn't that scream heel?

My baby is always dressing like a heel, too.

My baby should totally be in a program with Jericho for a while so that the heel dad can show him the ropes. Then, after trust is established, have my baby go over Y2J with a vicious assault. Then you can watch as a star is born. Eventually they'll have to turn him face again because he'll get so over. You want the next Rock? Then turn my baby heel.

Also, if my baby need a manager, I could be of service. Somebody has to change his diapers, after all.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

The Esteemed Critic's Multiple Sentence Reviews

Yes, this is what I actually look like in real life.

The Critic has been absent as of late, for his busy personal life has taken a toll on his professional career. It seems I have fathered a child; let us not examine the circumstances, for as you all know, the Critic jealously guards his personal life. However, I am not about to let the demands of fatherhood take me from my one true purpose, which is to tear apart all the pop culture detritus you cretins hold dear. Without further ado, let us begin.


Captain America: Civil War: Are they still making these? Didn't I predict the death of comic book movies ages ago? It seems the Marvel Cinematic Universe is deaf to my criticisms. The premise of this latest multimedia assault is laughable: the wanton destruction of the Avengers in the previous films results in world governments wanting to have some sort of handle on all of these super-beings. Captain America, of course, objects, I guess because rules and regulations get in the way of his American Individualism. Also his best friend Bucky (Bucky? WTF?) is a brainwashed supersoldier on the run from these forces for crimes he may not have committed. It's a fairly convoluted scenario, obviously engineered so that Iron Man and Captain America can punch each other into oblivion in the name of freedom or some shit. If you haven't seen all the Captain America movies or the Avengers films, you might be lost (hell, you might be anyway). It's all a bit boring, since there's no real tension; all the important characters cannot die, otherwise how would they make Iron Man 4 and the Avengers 3? Captain America, the eponymous hero, comes off as unsympathetic. The Avengers are a bunch of assholes--in real life, they would've been tried for war crimes--and reluctant villain Iron Man is the more relatable of the two. Whatever. I should likely stop reviewing these films, since they're not really made for me. They're made for the masses, not for intellectual juggernauts such as myself.


Girls: The Critic's constant companion has started binge watching Girls as of late, and the Critic cannot help but turn his unwavering eye toward this series. Frankly, the Critic knows not what to think: Girls seems to be a satire of the Millennial Generation--its protagonists are narcissistic, immature, dependent on their parents, and sexually irresponsible. Lena Dunham's character Hannah is particularly repulsive as a so-called writer who never seems to actually write anything. Yet the Critic cannot help but find this show hilarious and too self-conscious to be taken seriously. Though I am no social conservative, I must note that damn-near every episode contains an uncomfortable nude scene with Hannah. Good god, woman, are you trying to ruin nudity for the Critic? Keep it covered, please.


Dark Souls 3: The best Dark Souls game. It combines the gameplay improvements of the second title with the level design and world-building of the original. A deep, rewarding role-playing experience that promises over one-hundred hours of strangely-satisfying frustration. On the PC, it is rather buggy, however. Graphical glitches are quite common. Still, I can't imagine a RPG surpassing it this year.


Fatherhood: The Critic said he wouldn't delve into his personal life, yet I cannot help to review the process of early fatherhood. Let's just say there are transcendental rewards in changing the feces-filled diaper of your own flesh and blood. Let's just hope that the little Critic follows in the footsteps of his father and embraces French Surrealism. I wouldn't want to have to disown him, after all.

Friday, May 13, 2016

Conan Brothers Q&A


PedanticWenus asks "So what do you guys think about the coming election? Is it a harbinger of the apocalypse? Are you team Trump or team Hillary?"

Arnold: I'm team Mickey Mouse.

Dave: Have to go with the lesser of two evils. Hillary.

Arnold: Is she truly? A career politician who voted for the Iraq War, took money from Saudi Arabia, and who has repeated aligned herself with whatever position she thought would win her the most votes? How is that any different than Trump?

Dave: Sure, they are both panderers, but what politician isn't? Plus, Trump is transparently racist, xenophobic, and misogynistic. Do we want a President who appeals to the lowest common denominator? The guy reTweets Neo-Nazis, for chrissakes. Plus his whole shtick as a successful businessman is a shame. He was born a multimillionaire, and who knows how rich he really is, since he won't release his taxes.

Arnold: Are you saying he won't make America great again?

Dave: Not unless American Greatness is tied to fear, loathing, and idiocy.

Arnold: So you want me to vote a possible Reptilian into the White House?

Dave: They're all Reptilians, Arnold. Some Reptilians are better than others.

Arnold: Still voting for Mickey Mouse.

Dave: I'm not so sure Disney would run the country any differently than the Republicans would.

Arnold: Well then I'm voting for... somebody. I guess.

Dave: Yeah, make that vote count, brother.

PooPooMagoo asks "You guys watch HBO's Girls or Game of Thrones? Because there's no way those two demographics overlap.

Arnold: Girls is surprisingly entertaining, though it has ruined nudity for me.

Dave: It's like Lena Dunham wants me to never have sex again.

Arnold: I may be a professional bodybuilder, but I'm pretty inclusive when it comes to body acceptance. I don't think women need to look like fitness models. At the same time, if you don't got it, please don't flaunt it, for God's sake.

Dave: There is nobody on that show that I want to see naked. What is with HBO and gratuitous nudity? I'm pretty sure Game of Thrones has a whole section of writers who do nothing but find ways to gets some tits and asses in every episode, whether it fits the plot or not.

Arnold: Interesting that we're discussing gratuitous nudity like it's something to be ashamed of instead of the brutal violence on display in GoT.

Dave: You know the American attitude. Boobies are bad, blood and guts are good.

Arnold: All that shit's good to me. My life is like a heavy metal album cover.

Dave: He is literally naked and covered in gore as we speak.

Arnold: Somebody get me an HBO show. Pronto.


WegroWilson asks "Would you guys ever workout in a Planet Fitness?"

Arnold: This question makes no sense. You can't workout in a Planet Fitness.

Dave: The dumbbells only go up to 60 pounds.

Arnold: The minute I walk in, the Lunk Alarm starts going off.

Dave: What a terrible place. "Judgment free zone" my ass. Planet Fitness runs a gym like Satan would. You're not allowed to lift heavy and they try to make you as fat as possible by giving away donuts and pizza. They're endorsers of the Biggest Loser, the stupidest show on television. Never, ever, give them money.

Arnold: When I go to the gym I want to be judged.

Dave: When I go to the gym, I want everyone to recognize that I'm the biggest guy there, and that I haven't had a carbohydrate in four years.

Arnold: When I go to the gym, I want little children to run in fear.

Dave: What?

Arnold: Because I look like a big, scary monster.

Dave: I think that's it. You've crossed the line again.

Arnold: That's what I do.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Screw Off, Nerds


Well holla, playas. This is Vince Neil again. Been a long time since I posted on this shitty blog. Now that my rad nephew hooked up my internet to the motherbrain, I can finally get America online and look at porn and viruses and shit. Yeah, this modern technology crap just gets lost in my head along with the memories of dressing like a transvestite and doing blow outta strippers' buttholes. Sometimes I don't know what time I'm in. I do know that I don't like where I am, though.

It's like the nerds took over everything. There are stupid comic book movies in the theaters. You ever seen this shit? They're like all connected. You can't see Iron Man 10 without seeing Captain Underpants: Panty Avenger. It's like all the kids we used to dunk in toilets got together and took over the country. TV is the same way. Infantile shit about people dressing in costumes and doing fake fucking kung-fu. Any of you assholes ever been in a real fight? Lemme tell you something: no amount of 10th degree black belt bullshit is going to save your ass against three skinheads and 10 feet of steel chain. I got the bejesus kicked out of me one time after Tommy shit all over a biker bar and got his dick stuck in the jukebox. Don't ask me why I got my ass kicked instead of him. That was always happening back in the day. I guess I was just too pretty, and that pissed people off.

People watch something called Game of Thrones now and it's the stupidest crap I've ever seen. We used to take baseball bats and crash Dungeon and Dragons LARP events and the winner was whoever busted enough nerd brains. I was a ten time champion. I've murdered more nerds than Biff Tannen and Ogre combined. By the way, did you know that Biff is running for president? Motherfucker cleaned up well. Still has those freakishly small hands, though.

All of us former jocks and hair metalheads need to band together and do something about the direction this country is taking. No more fucking video game commercials on my TV. No more films about Superman sucking Batman's dick. No more Comic Con or E3 or Chipotle. Did I mention Chipotle yet? Jesus. Organic bullshit that hippies pooped on and stuffed together in a burrito. Sorry, I got confused. I thought I was doing a Yelp review, whatever the hell that is.

That's why I'm endorsing Biff Tannen for president. Sure, he calls himself Donald Trump now but you can't fool me, Biff. I know you murdered the real Donald Trump years ago in order to evade those statutory rape charges. By the way, if you win president let's go back in time and change the past so we don't have Obama in the Whitehouse and the nerds don't take over. I would be cool with being Vice President too, FYI. Or panty raider in chief.


Let's make America great again.

Friday, May 6, 2016

Rating the WWE's Roster by Their Stench, NXT Edition


Baron Corbin--End of Days? More like the end of underpants. Corbin hasn't changed his drawers since his NFL days. We can question whether his NXT call up was a good idea, but something we can't argue with is that Baron knows how to fill his pants. Stench rating-7.


Apollo Crews--Babyface Apollo hasn't really developed a character other than generic smiling guy, but that hasn't stopped the E from promoting him  so that he can...wrestle the Social Outcasts? Thankfully for our nostrils, Apollo doesn't stink too bad--he smells like your dad's sock drawer, just like Old Spice pitchman Terry Crews (no relation, somehow). Stench rating--4.


The Revival--Dash and Dawson are two great workers that I have trouble telling apart from any other generic wrestling tag team, most because they look like the definition of a generic wrestling tag team. They stink, though, like poo poo, due to Dash's chronic inflammatory bowel syndrome. Stench rating--8.


Bailey--Former champ Bailey has a delightful odor of hugs and bubblegum. Unfortunately, she is a farter, so look out. Stench rating--3.


Eva Marie--The Red Queen doesn't smell as good as she looks, due to her penchant for eating in bed and never showering. Also, she huffs bath salts (just an FYI). Another element in the mix is the lingering reek of her penis-like husband, who's always lurking close by. Stench rating--9.


Asuka--Do you know what fear smells like? I guess it varies. I'll tell you one thing though: Asuka smells a hell of a lot better than Brock Lesnar. Stench rating--2.


William Regal--NXT head honcho Mr. Regal has the look of a suave British gentleman. His taste in cologne, however, leaves something to be desired. Gasoline is not an acceptable fragrance, Will. Stench rating--5.



Finn Balor--Yes, ladies and gents, Finn has washboard abs and 2 percent bodyfat. The guy looks freaking ridiculous. But keep in mind, appearances are not always what they seem. The Demon King's two favorite foods are broccoli and deviled eggs. If you think Bailey's farts are bad, you should see how fast Finn clears a room. Stench rating--6.


Samoa Joe--If you've ever lost a dirty diaper under the couch and had your cat pull it out later, then you have an idea of what Joe's skirt smells like. There's also a trace of Denny's all you can eat breakfast lurking beneath all of that rotten poo. Stench rating--10.


Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Hanging with the Goon

Hay deres Uncle Tom!

Gentlemens and ladies held against dere will, its been a very long time since I checked in with ya'lls. Winter and spring are teh slow season in teh apple orcahrd; we dont do much but drink in teh barn and look fer pigs to wrestle wit and know in the intimate manner. I been doin a lot of mowin wit my teeth and swinging teh baseball stick to beat down teh weeds beneath teh trees so dat we has a great apple crop to seel at teh farmers markets. In udder news, my love life hasnt improved. Dere was dis girl named Alice who I was goin wit, but she left me for a box of chocolates and an electric screwdriver. Tough luck, eh? Well dats life as teh Goon.

One person who never gets let down too much is me Uncle Tom, he of love pit and dancing raccoon fame. Me an Slack weht over dere a while back to see what ol' Tom was up to, and lo and behold, he was at it again wit the rubber hose and a bottle full of mayonnaise. Tom's made himself a nice garden dis year, full of bananas, oranges, ricaroni, and dog meats. He gave us two boxes of pop tarts as a weddin gift fere teh inevitable day when we gets married. He also gave us some smoked meats which he said were sausauge, but dey looked liek human intestines.

Teh reason dat I bring up Uncle Tom is that I hope dat years from now, when I'm teh ripe ol' age of 42, I'll look half as good as ol' Tom, who still has two-thirds of his teeth an most of his fingers. Id also likes to have a love pit an a macaroni garden, but I guess dat would be hopin fere too much. Much of my thirty years has been dedicated to teh orchard and Japanese folklore; its kinda late to start somethin new, but you never knows. My boss Sammy probably doesnt have long fere dis earth, an I always wondered wether he'll give teh orchard to me or Hernando. I'd hate to have to perform teh Game of Thrones on Hernando. Hes a pretty nice guy fere a Mexicano.

One last thing I'd liek ta throw out dere is Does anybody know teh secret combonation to Uncle Tom safe? Last I herd, dere was four-hundred pornos and enough pills to make ya see teh purple horse in dat safe. When he gets reall drunk, Uncle Tom shouts its combonation all over town, but most peoples cant understand his backwoods blather. You'all listen real good and tell me what he says, cuz i'm a real good interpreater of nonsense.