Muckraking

The worst thing about the internet is the people on it. Gaw! Shut up, sometimes. Every news site has a comments section below its stories, now. If you want to see how stupid your neighbors are, then go read those comments. No matter what the story is, some knob is diametrically opposed. No matter what the story is, some jackass will find a way to turn it into an argument about Obama.

More Cute Kittens and other Baby Animals

Comments:
It's just a matter of time before ObamaCare forces you to eat kittens! These Liberals have their head in the sand!

-xXBlackOpsNeoConXx

*smh* Whatever, dickhead!

As my mother used to quote when faced with public assholism: Better that people think you're a fool than that you open your mouth (or click Submit) and remove all doubt.

Anyway, check this out:

Liberal

Moderate

Conservative

Both Liberal AND Conservative are political EXTREMES. The sooner you twats realize that, the sooner you can shut up. Sheesh!

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RIP Sherman Hemsley

Sherman Hemsley's character, George Jefferson, was groundbreaking. We tuned in for years to watch his antics. He set the stage for many of the sitcoms and characters that have followed The Jeffersons.

RIP Chad Everett

I remember him from 70s and early 80s TV shows. We'd go over Big Mama's house. Big Mama was my dad's godmother. She was short and stout. She always had candy. Sometimes, she made gingerbread. My 6'3" dad would be reduced to a little boy when she baked.

Like a lot of old, black ladies, she had her shows. We'd watch Barnaby Jones over there a lot. Sometimes, we'd watch Trapper John, M.D., McCloud or Columbo. Chad Everett was that suave dude.

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I'm at another crossroads in this existence. I struggled and pressed and worked to get to this level of management...only to realize it's just another level of sludge in the sewer of American Business.

My fucking Idly Rich Plan sucks ass, I swear.

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Now that the hoopla has died down, I'm finally watching 24. THAT's what you monkeys were all goofy about? *smh* If ONE "good guy" did something smart, 24 would be 3. In this first season, every broad on this show is a fucking, useless hostage waiting to be grabbed. You think I'm being misogynistic, but you should save that accusation for the producers. The show's on Netflix. Every female character in the first half of the first season was a hostage at some point. Go stream it and see for yourself.

*This is the point when some knob says that it was the first season and it takes time for a show to catch its stride*

I'll keep watching until I get so nauseated that I can't suppress the rising of bile. But, uh, it ain't lookin' good so far. One reason for this insulting dynamic of 'girl hostages' is simple: Hollywood sucks ass...usually literally.

Hollywood fight choreographers, for the most part, have yet to accurately portray the dynamics of hand to hand combat. So, women in action movies continue to be reduced to caricatures. They're either hostages or they're ridiculous.

Weight classes exist in every major professional fighting organization for a reason. You can't ignore the physics of inertia, mass & force. A 5'7", 135 lb. woman beating a 6', 200 lb. man who has been fighting and training for as long as she has in a protracted hand-to-hand scuffle is stupid. While there are exceptions to every rule, on average amongst martial artists and fighters, there is a demonstrable difference in strength. Even when I'm training against a smaller man, I have to remember to use technique and not strength. (Side Note: Girls have been trying to knee us in the balls since we were six. Try that in a real conflict, you're just gonna piss him off and he's going to punch you as hard as he can.)

Wanna see tight, believable, beautifully choreographed fights? Watch Ecks vs. Sever again. Lucy Liu is "li'l bitty". Lucy Liu's character never matched mass or strength against her opponents. She was smart, fast and I never had to suspend belief to watch her in fight in that role.

Anyway, my business dive suit is hosed off and dried. Back to the muck.

Deuces...

Assholic Reflections

I crack me up.

You know, if you can discover a product, service or system that appeals to stupid people, you can make yourself RICH. There are a LOT of stupid people in this world.

Look at your television. 45-65% of the shows on your screen would NOT be there if there were no stupid people to watch them. This is a market-driven economy. If there is no market for something, it goes away. Look in the back of your closet for proofs of this theorem. Man vs. Food? Really? EVERY reality show? Don't weasel now because YOU like a stupid TV show.

Even MMA, which I like, is ultimately some dumb shit. Two dudes step into a cage, do some antisocial, felonious tomfoolery to each other and then they're supposed to speak intelligibly to a camera while standing there dripping sweat and blood on the mat and discuss who they'd like to savage next. The guy who just got his ass kicked is supposed to stand up (or, wake up) and analyze just why he got his ass kicked and then shake the hand of the guy who just stomped him out. Yeah…dumb. But, at least I recognize it.

Anyway….

Orange hair

Sistas, you can (are going to) do what you want with your hair. We already know this. So, let's keep the eye rolling to a minimum, if we can. Still, we need to talk. Orange hair…really?!? You realize that you're not doing that to please your man, right? That is purely a personal decision on YOUR part. No brotha's ideal woman has orange hair unless he's an anime fan and has never had real boobs pressed on his face intentionally. If he had any input into your decision to dye your hair orange it was probably during an exchange like this:

YOU:    I'm going to dye my hair.

HIM:    *looking at TV* OK…

So, let's be real. While y'all are clownin' weaves and wigs, you REALLY need to be lookin' at your orange-assed head and tellin' yourself to stop it.

FOOTNOTE: Blonde ain't for everybody EITHER.

This has been a public service announcement sponsored by the We Try Foundation (WTF).

Morning dumps

I'm still not understanding what moves a dude to leave home, drive all the way to work, and THEN take a dump. Can you please stop that? Pinch that off at home. Spare me the uncomfortable moments of taking shallow sips of breath in a vain attempt to avoid inhaling your effluvia. And, yeah, I know that's a "natural bodily function", but you emerging from the stall, initiating eye contact and cheerfully greeting me? Especially on those occasions when you don't even bother to LOOK at the sink, let alone wash your soiled mitts? Uh…no. That's socially unacceptable. Go home and try again tomorrow.

Back pain

My back is twinging. My dad could probably tell me whether this is my sciatic nerve or some other shit. But…Ion't really even care. Just make the hurting stop.

My daughter used to walk on my back when she was little. She would giggle and dig her li'l toes in while trying to balance on my back. It was perfect. She's 5'8" and 160 lbs. of muscle now. She'd put me in a wheelchair even if she WASN'T in a bad mood, if she walked on my back, now.

So, I tried getting a li'l, Asian babe to be my girlfriend. She could've walked on my back for me. It would've been a symbiotic relationship of mutual appreciation, shared cultures and, of course, libidinous pursuits illegal in some sovereignties. After she walked on my back, she could sit on my front. Of course, like most of my 2011 endeavors, THAT turned to shit. *psy*

So, now what? Now, I'm masking my limp with my signatory pimp walk. çLMDBAO@that

It'll get better soon. I'm cautiously optimistic about that and a few OTHER things in my life, right now. I wish I had something to sip to the hope that I didn't just jinx myself by putting this down where psyqyq's nemesis can take note of it. That's a muted reference to past entries for the uninitiated. Ask, if you're so inclined.

Anyway…later.

Elephant Bullets

Remember the bull from Bugs Bunny?



Yeah…him.

Imagine him somehow were-morphed into human form. That's who I had to spar with tonight…

Now, imagine the were-bull tenderizing 250 pounds of raw steak…with Thor's hammer.

That was me…18 minutes on the mat with a minotaur, bay-beee!!!!

'member when I was all like, "I wanna spar with somebody MY size?" Fuck that! Gimme more skinny dudes. My shoulders and neck are BURNING, right now. That fool grabbed my head in both hands and freaking YANKED! Fortunately, I'm fast as a cobra. I hit the mat and skidded away like a hockey puck. (Hockey pucks are black, see?) Anyway, he grabbed my ankles and yanked. He grabbed my arms and yanked. He...sensing a theme here? I'm glad his ass was tired from training all day. Sheesh. Fighting him fresh would've been a nightmare!

The teacher said good training, though!

Passing Guard

I didn't even WANT to go train tonight. But, I went anyway. It was frikkin' awesome!!!

I didn't get submitted once. Of course, there's no one really in my weight class. So: L on that. But, I got a double-leg takedown on Jesus! *smirk* Yeah! I got a single leg takedown on my other opponent, as well.

Honestly, I'm just glad they're tired by the time I get there. I'll have to get my gi soon to learn classic jiu jitsu.

But, yeah, Active Takedowns...I did quite nicely. I did get taken down once, though.

Then, we had to practice passing guard. OK, of the two people sparring/fighting, the person whose legs are on the outside is in control. If the guy on the bottom has his legs outside of the guy on the top, he's got the guard. If the guy on the top is sitting on the abdomen or chest with his legs outside of his opponent's, then he is in the mount position. So, I started out trying to pass the guard of my opponent, John. I passed his guard four times in five minutes. Awesome, man! Awesome!

Then, we switched positions and he was in my guard. For five straight minutes, I kept him from passing my guard ONCE. Goodness, I'm proud of that. I didn't know I could do that. I was almost to the point of wheezing, but I damned did it.

THEN, we rolled. Rolling is freestyle sparring in jiu jitsu. I was lightly toasted by then. I gotta get my cardio up, f'reals. I rolled with John first. He got a half guard on me and I could NOT get that leg free. I wanted an armbar. John is strong and compact though. I figured that, if I fully committed to it while in that half guard, he'd make me pay for it, somehow...some way. So, we ended in what I thought was a draw. John told me that I would have won on points. Cool!

Then, I rolled with Julio. I kept him in my guard for four minutes and by then I was exhausted. He passed my guard and got a side mount. But, I didn't let him make me submit. Yay, me!

I wanted to flip him over me onto his back. But, I was too tired to figure it out. I think I have a move figured out, now. Maybe, I'll try it another time.

Hellbound

I just put Jesus in an armbar and submitted him.

You know...Jesus...my Mexican training partner. What'd you think I meant?

It was SWEET, though. I got there and got segregated...like a goat from the sheep. Everyone else was in their traditional 'gi'. On the other hand, there was me. No gi. Me and two other dudes. I feel like a bully, though...like Butch from The Little Rascals. ("Say! When's the last time we beat you up!""*Gulp* Yesterday..." "Then, yer DUE! *WHAM!*") They're not in my weight class. Although, the smaller dude was a lot more experienced in jiu jitsu. After this competition, my instructor's gonna make me pay. I can feel him assessing me from across the mat.

I told you what my technique is. Any four-year-old can do it. 'You wanna do what to me? No.' They grab my arm. I take my arm back. They pull. I make 'em let go and fall down. The difference is: I make it look like (Whooo!) "t-e-c-h-n-i-q-u-e". LoL...you gotta say 'technique' with a French accent, too.

Yeah, I know. My teacher's gonna beat me up. I see it coming. Imma jump up like that fool in Whiteboys after he got stomped like, "Am I in?!?"

Anyway, I just realized that Jesus looked at me when he told me his name expecting me to smirk. I must be growing up. (I offer a pre-"fuck you" for that "'bout time!" that you just thought.) He asked me if I'd ever rolled before. I nodded, then we were off. He immediately put me in his guard. I passed his guard and went to a side mount. He refused to let me choke him like I planned. (I know. Right? The nerve...) Imma get me a gottdammed guillotine on somebody, I swear. My daughter is NOT gonna be the only person in the family to choke out two (count them: 1, 2) dudes with a guillotine choke, dammit! To be fair, the dudes I spar with have heads like frozen turkeys...but, that's besides the point.

What was my point?

Oh, yeah! So, anyway...couldn't get the choke in the side mount. Jesus rolled onto his knees. So, I tried another choke. Jesus tried to flip me. I dispassionately refused to flip. He landed on his back and I was in the full mount. Grabbed his elbow, put him in an armbar. I submitted Jesus. I win.

I Got an Owie!

I just realized that I aggravated the mat burn on my left, big toe. Cherry red where there's no skin. It doesn't even hurt, but I need some liquid bandage for it...or some shellack.

I did the full warm up, today (running, tumbling, the whole nine). When I left the gym, my shirt was soaked. It was torn, too. So, much for Izod. It used to fit snugger than it does, now. I submitted a guy cuz I got him in a hold and he couldn't breathe because my shirt was so wet. I guess I used a 'gi' move on him. I'll need to get some UnderArmor, I guess. I'm not bad, but Ion't think my body is ready to be displayed like that, yet. Gimme six weeks at this pace, though.

There was a kid rolling today...11 years old. I felt all paternalistic toward him. I showed him how to do a single leg takedown.  (Damn! My nose was bleeding. I did not realize that til I just blew it.) The kid has a good grasp of technique.

There was another brotha there who goes by 'King'. Um...ok. He's a boxer. His arms were very defined and strong. I tell you this not in admiration or anything. It's just that different disciplines have different strong suits. Throwing 10 & 12-ounce gloves around constantly is going to make your arms and shoulders strong.  I submitted him once, but mainly I showed him a couple things, and gave him my basic philosophy: When a guy is moving your arm or leg a certain way or maneuvering you a certain way, don't let him. Cuz, he's gonna do something next that's usually REALLY gonna hurt. So, when he pulls your arm, take your arm back. This was King's second class in this discipline. He seemed to appreciate what I showed him.

I sparred with Pedro, again. Sparring with Pedro is tiring. He's very strong and he's always trying to do something to you that's gonna hurt...a lot. So, I spent a bit of time reversing holds and passing his guard and trying my damnedest not to get the shit choked out of me (literally...that'd be VERY embarrassing).

That brings to mind my last class. One guy asked an instructor, "If a guy shits himself and quits, does that count as a submission." The instructor said, "No...but, if you shit yourself and your opponent doesn't want to continue, then THAT's a submission." LoL...fighter humor.

Anyway, Pedro told me that our instructor TOLD him to wear me out today. It seems that I've already gotten a reputation for being 'big & strong' and this was my second class at this gym. Well, I have to admit it: I gassed. I tapped and I wasn't even in a hold. I was just fucking T-I-R-E-D. Six minute rounds and this was the third? Yeah, the new guy was spent. I'm going to get better, though. Trust me on that.

Anyway, I got it together and then fought one of the 'gi' fighters. See, there's 'gi', traditional jiu jitsu with the belt and the robe (see pic above). Then, there's 'no gi'. (pic right) Gi is a lot more traditional, as you might imagine. 'No gi' might seem like wrasslin', but it like many martial arts is very scientific in its approach to anatomy and specialized forms of personal mayhem.

I'm having a BLAST. Now, to find some liquid bandage.

Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'

Mat burn on both big toes, I'm coughing up 4.5 years of phlegm and wheezing like an asthmatic beatboxer who can't find his inhaler. My shoulders feeling like they've been put in a blender on PUREE and then patted back into place. My ass feels like it's going to cramp from jumping rope for minutes at a time. A tattooed Latino is looming over me flexing his fingers and putting both of his hands on my throat to choke me.

And to think: I wanted to do this.

...the fuck?!?

Yeah, I'm back in jiu jitsu. I freaking LOVE this. How come I jump rope better than the Brazilian chicks? (THAT was distracting, by the way. I tripped over the rope a couple/few times trying to NOT watch the jigglage. Eventually, I had to turn and face the wall.) That's another indicator that I'm serious about this stuff. There was a chick fight with Brazilian chicks, no less, going on mere feet from me. (The girls sparred.) I didn't even stop to watch.

I'm so machoor!!! ←← LOL@that

On the plus side, before I gas, I move very quickly for my size. My sparring partner didn't believe that I weigh 253 lbs. Let me lose the 25 like I want. [white girl voice]Oh...my...god! Ohmigawd![/white girl voice]

But, for real, there is more room for improvement than you can imagine. I could not sink a guillotine on that smooth, bald head. My cardio is ass. But, Imma fix THAT.

Can somebody go to Sam's Club and get me one of those Tub o' Ibuprofen bottles, please! Thank you in advance!

Do You Have ‘The Love’?

My back is KILLING me! I just have to push through it until it gets better. But, something like this will make you appreciate something that you usually don't give a second thought: Mobility. It's weird: I can do crunches, pushups and military sit ups without the slightest amount of pain. But, sitting for an extended period of time? Not happening…

Good thing I know how to slouch. There's an art to the boneless slouch.

My change in state combined with my afflicted back has slimmed me out a bit. I mean, I see me and think, "Could be (much) better…but, not bad!" Then, I go around 'normal' sized people and it feels like they're all little. I need to go hang with the fam. My shoulders were SO much bigger than everyone else's before…but, time has passed. Some of the boys are now men. But, 6'4" is only fair-to-middlin' in my clan.

*snork* A guy in the lobby JUST asked me, "Where'd YOU play ball?" I have on jeans and a tee, today. So, the walking must be doing some toning.

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Do you ever stretch and then 'blue out'? That's happened to me since I was 13½. After I hit my growth spurt, whenever I stood up and stretched, everything would look blue and eventually fade, even though my eyes were open. My ears would ring. (Blackout & tinnitus…) Then, I'd pass out in the middle of the floor.

There was this girl that we thought was just SO fine when we were teenagers. Her name was Tasha. We all discussed this girl like she was the Daily News. Once, we were all at a wedding reception, I told my friends (never expecting it to happen), "Man, if the DJ plays Sunshine, I'd even ask Tasha to dance." It was as if that was his cue. Alexander O'Neal's "Sunshine" tweeted & woofed out over the speakers. My friends all turned and looked at me. Seven pair of eyes…and my pride wouldn't let me back out of this one.

I went over and asked Tasha to dance. She said yes. Their jaws all dropped.

Hah!

Anyway, Tasha was riding with her girl Tanya. Tanya came over to our house to 'borrow' me and my sisters. The grocery store near us had a sale on chicken and a limit of five per customer. Tanya was having some kind of party and needed a LOT of chicken. So, my sisters & I would allow her to get fifteen extra chickens. (Ghetto as 'red' Kool-Aid, I know. But, this is why I could SO relate to Roll Bounce.)

My sisters knew I thought Tasha was the finest thing walkin', back then. I was in the den watching TV. They came in wearing sly grins and dropped the bombshell, "Tasha is here."

I stood up and stretched, just as Tasha walked into the den…

…and fell out in the middle of the floor.

Needless to say, my sisters thought the whole situation was hee-lair-ee-us!!! They yukked it up like the sadistic wenches they were. Tasha snickered…but, she helped me up and made sure that I was ok.

*psy*

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Oh, gawd! 'member that guy? The one who wouldn't shut up and told that long, droning story? He's on his way up here. She should be back soon…or, dammit! He's here!

Good! He took his visitors and left!

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I need to stop thinking of this guy as "The Little Shit" before I accidentally call him that when I page him.

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The kids and I coined a new one this week: S/he's so full of shit, s/he's afraid to fart. So descriptively disgusting…

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I just 'blued out' from a stretch. It actually feels kind of good.

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I talked to Laura, today. That's my ace boon coon, man! I swear! She's the only person I know that I tell exactly what I feel when I feel it. She still gave me the cyberfanga and called me an 'ass'.

LoLz!!!

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When I was actively training in ground & pound a few years ago, there was a big, white boy in my class. Dude was strong as a horse and fast as a car…and only 19 years old. He was just out high school. One of our drills was a sprint down the mat. Kid would just accelerate! The older guys in the class (me being one of them) would just look at each other and shake our heads. The guy was a freak of nature and he didn't even know it. During rolls, he'd say, "Man, I don't feel like doing this." But, you could see that he had the raw, natural skills to be whatever he wanted to be.

Guess where he decided that he wanted to be: Duffee seizes first-impression opportunity. Take it all the way, bruh! That's a rough sport. But, when you have the love, it's a lot of FUN!

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I was still giggling aboout 'gravy beast' in chat. When I mentioned that 'gravy beast' translates into French literally as 'the beast of sauce & juice', this European sista who's fluent in French just hollered. But, she confirmed it. That one stays in the arsenal as an international insult.

It's Violent...I Still Love It

Fight Journal: King Mo vs Mark Kerr - FIGHT NIGHT from All Elbows on Vimeo.