28 Day Beach Blitz Part 3: Preliminary Preparations

Written on 3 May 2007 by

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The first order of business is to establish a daily meal schedule. We don’t have time for baby talk or seductive murmurs so just read and then implement these seven bedrock principles:

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Kid Hercules & The Big Fish Incident

Written on 29 March 2005 by

KID HERCULES: I saw a sick story on the History Channel called The Strongest Kid in the World. It was a demented tale of Ukrainian parents who relocated to California and trained their baby, Richard Sandrak, to be a bodybuilder. His mother would forcibly stretch the boy from the time he was six-months old and the father was Hitler on wheels. They had the child lifting super big weights using a lot of forced reps and bodybuilding training and diet tactics early on. From the time the body was five, he was trained three to four hours a day, splitting his time between high intensity weight training, cardio, martial arts and dance oh yeah like a circus family in the old country the whole deal was about cashing in on the kid.

Pop never took a job, he was the coach. Mom never took a job; she prepared the perfect bodybuilding meals. They enlisted the services of a manager a fringe character in the fitness world who formed a little fitness troupe that featured a bunch of male and female bodybuilders who would go through tight little choreographed dance routines at The Arnold Classic, The Mr. Olympia and other assorted trade shows. The kid was the star of the show and Little Hercules would lead the bodybuilders through their Ziegfield Follies-like Vaudeville routine. They hit the big time and eventually took the act to Vegas. Little Herc would strut and preen, pose and dance like a little trained monkey. Hed incorporate martial arts moves and his incredible flexibility was on display the main attraction was his freaky little physique. It was all packaged and rolled up into one sick little revue.

He obtained a five-figure supplement deals and the troupe was on the road all the time. Everybody was starting to make dough on the 8-year old. Then the dad got a little too big for his britches and the entourage began to turn on one another. Rumors started to float that the kid was being fed steroids; the manager quit, pop took to beating the wife and kids and eventually he was arrested and given a three year suspended sentence after breaking moms wrist and nose. They divorced and pop was served with a restraining order. The whole kid herc universe came crashing down. But wait! Another manager appeared and got some relative of John Travolta to make a short film pitching the idea of the now 12-year old could star in a feature length movie called Little Tarzan. The gravy train is being resurrected as we speak. Oddly the 12-year old doesnt seem to be able to recapture the shredded and ripped look hed achieved when under Dads training and special nutritional regimen.

The kid obviously is as exploited as some third-world child labor worker in a shoe factory. Handling heavy poundage before puberty is a terrific way to stunt height forever and though both the dad and mom are average height, Id be damned surprised if this kid grows to more than 5 foot. The world of bodybuilding is full of strange individuals and this is one of the most outrageous and pathetic example Ive seen in recent years.

ON A LIGHTER NOTE: ONLY THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE GUILTYEPISODE #207, THE BIG FISH INCIDENT

I trained with a certain nameless powerlifting champion for many years and this gargantuan guy would earnestly instruct his young and impressionable power students that beer was good for recovery. He sincerely believed this, Its based on science! Its an irrefutable fr*#king fact! He used to scream when challenged on this. Often, after a savage training session, he and I and a few other bruisers would head over to Chinatown for ‘Big Fish’ (whole crispy fish in sweet hot sauce) and while a whole fish was meant for a party of six, each lifter would order one exclusively for their own consumption.

We used to like to drink high octane booze drinks while decompressing from our savage training and waiting for the big fish armada to be bought out. These drinks were made with vodka, kaluha, coconut milk and 150-proof rum and they’d serve them in coconut shells and for dramatic effect would set the drink on fire and serve it flaming. My pal, who I loved like a brother, was a gigantic clumsy oaf and one afternoon after two power bombs in row he accidentally knocked over his third flaming drink.

The blue-flamed liquid rolls to the edge of the table and the flaming waterfall falls on him and he stands up like hes been shot from a cannon. His gym clothes are on fire and he is waving his flaming arms around wildly. The blue flames looked pretty waving in the darkened restaurant but I am afraid that he will start running through the restaurant like a rhino through a pygmy village, sending Chinese waiters flying and knocking civilians over right and left, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs….’FIRE BAD!!! FIRE BAD!!!’ Everyone else is stunned but thinking fast, I grab a giant pitcher off the table and douse him with ice-cold water…he was fine, we laughed our asses off and had another round. Just another minor incident in powerville….

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