Coldwar - Christus Deathshed

Whenever i find a decent band from Ireland, i just have to respect them. I mean, although said country is struggling pretty hard right now, they are not as bad off as some south american countries and such and i realize that. But still, Irish bands tend to work very hard to get anywhere, and since the country is fairly remote, touring is tough for them. Here is a band that recently crossed my radar and they seem to not have all that much exposure despite having 3 full lengths under their belts, this is their latest. Coldwar play a mid paced and very heavy death metal with some crust tinges. Top that off with anti christian lyrics and fuck, im sold.


emerald isles death metal

Coffins - Buried Death

One of, if not my absolute favorite album from 2008. And hell, one of my favorites to this day. This album and band have gotten quite a bit of attention in the metal realm, especially after this release. Japans Coffins, just in case you arent aware of them yet (shame shame) play dirty old school doomy death metal. No frills whatsoever, just meat and potatoes shit the way it should be. If you like Celtic Frost/Hellhammer, Winter, Autopsy, Hooded Menace, Asphyx, i could go on because Coffins proudly wear their influences on their sleeves, then this is for you my friend.

Uuuugggghhhh!!!

RAW UNITY 5- The Whole Shitteree

So, after a brief hiatus, RAW Unity 5.  Though I'd like to say the interlude was simply due to my waiting for the publishing of the photos and vids of the meet, it was due in very large part to me being a bit burned out and pissed off after the meet.  Right after the meet ended, I had a startling revelation that I solemnly vow to never do again- I didn't listen to my own fucking advice.  Let's roll it back to last year, when I wrote:

In a previous blog, I posted a quote from the seminal grindhouse film Planet Terror, in which a retardedly hot, pole-dancing, ass-kicking, peg-legged Rose McGowan stated that "goals become the thing you talk about, rather than the thing you do."  That's a fairly accurate summation of my opinion of goals with regard to weightlifting (an life in general), and I thus view the myriad posted goals on Bodyspace and similar sites just as I do a wheezing, sweaty, pre-diabetic, allegedly human mass of fat cells with eyeballs purchasing a supersize meal at McDonalds with a Diet Coke- they're laughable and pathetic.
Were you to lack the experience I've had, you might be tempted to set those kinds of goals... especially when you're surrounded by monuments to mediocrity erected by people entirely bereft of pride all over the internet. If you allow these idiots, who've posted their unbelievably embarrassing numbers online in a multitude of places, to program your subconscious into believing that those number are what you're likely to reach, you're fucked.  Their Facebox updates and forum signatures are the internet's equivalent of the Persian assault on the Greeks at Thermopylae.  They're repetitive, toothless, and generally fucking sad, but the sheer weight of numbers can leave you well and truly fucked if you're unprepared to deal with them.  Just as those hapless turbaned were driven onto the spear points of the Spartans by the swords of their officers and covered the Grecian landscape like locusts, so do the ambassadors of suck online.  Thus, it's important that you look to more inspirational sources and leave those idiots to their discussion of which brand of sock/briefs/shoes/supplements might pus them to a 400 lb shitfest of a back squat.  This is especially important at night, when the defenses your conscious mind erects to outside influence on your subconscience are at their weakest. (Van Fleet 54-55)"

What'd I fucking do?  I told half the free world that I was going to break two world records.  Not that I was going to attempt to do so, but that I was going to do it.  As the meet drew closer, I started freaking the fuck out, since I realized that anything I did that didn't involve breaking those records would be viewed, at least by me, as an abject fucking failure.  Three days out from the meet, I hit 585 for two to depth and decided that there was no way I was not going to do it.  All I had to do was show up, make weight, and collect my money.

I was wrong.

I had my aims all muddled the fuck up- I started thinking about the destination, rather than the journey, and in doing so fucked up my motivations irrevocably.  When doing something for material gain, you activate the nucleus accumbens in your brain.  That's essentially the pleasure center in the brain, but it requires ever-increasing amounts of stimulation and is generally harder to activate than other parts.  Doing something for fun, however, activates the posterior superior temporal sulcus, which is the part of the brain responsible for social interactions (also known as the altruism center), in addition to biological movement.  They can't function at the same time, so you basically have to pick a goal and stick with it, and I picked incorrectly.(Brafman 140)

It also sucked that I went the way I did with my motivation and goals because after I'd set I was totally disgusted with setting three PRs (squat, bench, and total), rather than pleased with a not-too-fucking-embarrassing performance.  Not only that, but it left me pissed for an entire week afterward, during which time I considered the entire effort wasted and briefly considered quitting competition entirely... which is fucking retarded.

The Meet Prep
My meet prep didn't really vary in any way from the previous meet, aside from the fact that I dropped incline reverse grips in favor of flat bench reverse grips.  It worked like a charm, but I fucked the dog on the bench due to the same demon that plagued me throughout the meet- overfuckingconfidence.  This, of course, shouldn't surprise anyone, given my philosophy of being a giant dick, going huge and strutting around like Little Lord Fontelroy.  Confidence is good.  Overconfidence is the fucking devil.

I continue to believe that the path to greatness on squats is beginning each squatting workout (minus zerchers) with jump squats.  It's helped my explosiveness out of the bottom, improved my flexibility, and is fun as hell.  Additionally, bottom-position squats really help your explosiveness out of the hole, although I apparently needed to pile a couple more mats under the bar.  I thought I was working from parallel, but I was evidently about an inch high.

Insanely easy 629, but was a little high.

The Diet
If you've read the unfinished Apex Predator Diet series, you know how I've been eating- meat on the bone, every day, and a shitload of protein shakes.  The only thing that changed in the final few weeks was that I added a second daily meal of dry wings with salt and pepper about a month prior to the meet.  Additionally, as I was losing my fucking mind about three weeks out from constant dieting, I had a second carb day on Saturdays. I started that day with biscuits and turkey sausage- 4 or 5 biscuits made with low-fat Bisquik and Jimmy Dean or Bob Evans (I prefer Bob Evans' but they're only available in the North) Turkey Sausage patties, with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Spray and dusted heavily with powdered red pepper.  Thereafter, I'd eat Baked Ruffles, bowls from Chipotle consisting of naught but rice and double chicken.  The rest of the time, it went like this:

8:30 AM: AM Workout
9AM: Shake 1- Muscle Infusion in water
11AM: Shake 2- Monster Milk in water
1 PM: Dry Wings- Liberally coat in salt and pepper
4 PM: Shake 3- Muscle Infusion in water
7 PM: Shake 4- Muscle Infusion in water
9:30-10:30PM: 2-3 lbs beef ribs with dry rub
11:30: Half a shake- Muscle Infusion in water
Overnight: Half a shake- Muscle Infusion in water

I was slightly lean at this meet.

Since I invariably get questions about it, here's how I prepare the ribs:

Dust one side with the following

Butt Rub- This stuff is a bit more savory, salty, and spicy than most other rubs.

Rib-It Rib Rub- I bought this stuff and like it, but it's a bit too mild.  Mixed with the Butt Rub, it's awesome

Cumin

Chipotle Pepper

Garlic

Bake on 400 for 20 mins, turning once and dusting the upwards-facing side with the same blend.

Clearly, this diet is working- I'm hovering around 6% bodyfat and my lifts continue to rise.  A note about that-  I now believe that training without doing some sort of semi-strict dieting lends itself to diminished results, due to the fact that you're not as mindful about your lifestyle and are thus less focused in the gym.  This might have to do with priming, as the stronger and better you look, the more primed you should be to perform up to your appearance.  The opposite could also be true- if you look like a doughy pile of shit, you might be priming yourself to lift like one every time you look in the mirror.  You'll act the way you're stereotype... it's science.  Studies have shown that being positively stereotyped increases your performance, and being negatively stereotyped can result in poor health, loss of physical strength, cognition, eyesight, coordination, and can even shorten your life.(Langer 106-7, 166-168)  Thus, you should look the way you want to fucking perform- awesome.

The Weighin
Making weight was considerably easier at this meet.  I'd been walking around at around 196-7 at night, so when I started cutting salt and adding water, the weight fell right off.  Additionally, because I'm so much leaner than I was, there's nothing but muscle glycogen and creatine holding onto my water.  When I cut water, the weight dropped off precipitously.  I used the same cutting protocol as in the last meet, although I used WAY more Kranker 2 and stopped eating 24 hours prior to weighin (I had 4 shakes before I stopped consuming anything).  The label for Kranker 2 states you should use 1-2 3x a day- this time, I used 4 maybe 6 times on Friday, for a Saturday weighin.  Thus, when I awoke on Saturday, I was only 4.5 lbs over.  I grabbed my sauna suit and headed to Gold's Gym to sit in their sauna.  Though Ferriss and others recommend steam, a 180 degree sauna will do just fine, especially if you're wearing a sauna suit.  I would sit in the sauna for ten minutes and then walk laps around the indoor pool, since it was hot as balls in there as well.  2 hours later, I was at 180.62, exhausted, overheated, and fucking starving.

Gandhi 2... he's back, and he's pissed.

Speaking of starving, I've been reading an interesting book called Hunger: An Unnatural History, which basically details the history of fasting and starvation.  In it, the author lists Gandhi's rules for fasting.  In case you're unaware, Gandhi was a diminutive Indian man who hated black people and was ironically the inspiration for the tactics used in the US civil rights movements.  He was also instrumental in the formation of the current nations of India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh.  He was a celibate vegetarian, so his opinions should of course be questioned heavily, but he did engage in hundreds of fasts, many of which were limited to a single day, and used them as a political tool to blackmail British politicians.  He often threatened to starve himself to death and nearly did so on a number of occasions, so I thought it might be interesting to examine his thoughts on the subject.In any event, here are his 9 Rules For Fasting,(Russell 87) along with my comments:

1. "Conserve your energy, both physically and mentally, from the beginning."  This isn't a bad idea.  Fasting fucking blows.  If you're cutting weight, walking's about as intense as you should make your efforts, so you don't overwork yourself in a state to which you're unaccustomed and fuck yourself up.
2. "Cease to think of food while fasting."  Impossible.  ALL you think about while fasting is what your first meal is going to be.  I had my meal planned within minutes of starting my fast.  If you're used to eating 8 times a day, there's not fucking chance in hell you'll be able to resist thinking about food.  
3. "Drink as much cold water as you can."  Not an option when trying to make weight.
4. "Have a warm sponge bath daily."  You know what sucks more than being hungry as shit?  Being hot and hungry.  Fuck all that.
5. "Take an enemy regularly."  I tried using a saline enema to make weight last time and found it did nothing more than make me hideously uncomfortable.  Unless you're really into enemas, I wouldn't advise it.  In case you're curious, Gandhi was REALLY into enemas, and would prolapse his own ass to wash his intestines in a bowl of water.  He was an old school Goatse, I guess.
6. "Sleep as much as possible in the open air."  I assume he means "in a cool place".  Cranking the AC feels good while sleeping.
7. "Bathe in the morning air." ... and get arrested.
8. "Think of anything else but the fast."  Good luck with all of that.  I buried myself in research and still found my mind wandering to the pit in my stomach.  I found that driving took my mind off of fasting, so if you can, take a drive once you're on or close to your weight.
9. "No matter from what motive you are fasting, during this precious time think of your Maker and of your reliance on him and his other creations and you will make discoveries you never dreamed of."  Frankly, I thought all about how awesome I was and was busy being impressed with my ability to endure discomfort.  Different strokes, I guess.  No one makes me awesome but me.  If you think there's a magical force making you awesome, channel that shit.  Whatever it takes to make weight.

The Clusterfuck That Was The Meet
I pretty much fucked the dog from the giddy-up.  I went too light on my squat opener, PR'd on my second, and missed the third because of depth, though it was my best-looking lift.  Frankly, I should have just gone heavier and sunk into it more, but I was being a bitch after grinding my 617.2.  Thus, I went 574, 617.2, 629.  On bench, my opener was a joke, so I laid down on the bench like I was going to take a fucking nap for my second and missed it, only to get it easily on my third.  At this point, I'd already left at least 35 lbs on the platform, and was fucking PISSED.  On bench I went 325, 369.2, 369.2.  For deads, I opened light, hit a light 2nd, and got retardedly pumped for my third, which was 15 lbs lighter than I'd planned.  I took a shit stance (due to overexcitement), and missed the pull just above my knees, which I didn't even think could happen.  Thus, I ended with a disgraceful 585, 628.3, 661.  Thus, I totalled 1614.7, which was a full 100 lbs lighter than I'd planned.  Never has a showing been so disappointing to its participant since the first person managed to pit Little Mac against Iron Mike Mike Tyson's Punchout- it was a goddamned disaster.

Yeah, I reverse gripped.  And yeah, it was awesome.

What I Learned

• Focus on the journey, not the destination.  If you get your balls all full for a climax that doesn't happen, you live in pain until the swelling subsides, and that fucking sucks.
• If the judges are being strict on squat depth, PAY FUCKING ATTENTION TO THAT and go deeper than you think you need to.  I completely ignored the fact that I'd seen hours of red-lighted squats after seeing Saam Byrd's second get three whites, and figured I just had to go out and represent.  Well, I'm not Sam Byrd, apparently, and I can go fuck myself.  Go deeper than you need to.
• Cutting water weight gets easier when you're super lean.  Thus, you should shoot for 4 weeks out from a bodybuilding competition-type condition if you want to have a relatively easy water cut. 
• Don't buy into your own bullshit.  Confidence is good.  Ridiculous overconfidence is stupid, no matter how beastly you've been in the gym.  Treat every attempt like it's going to be the hardest of your life.
• Rehbands don't have the "bounce" of TK's.  I switched because my TK's ripped, but I'll be getting another pair for my next meet.  I vastly prefer them.
• Fuck it- get 'em next time.  There's really no fucking point in crying over spilled milk, though that didn't fucking stop me last week.  Hate makes you strong, so I'm just going to turn that shit into something else and hate my way to victory in the next meet.

The deeds we do shall be the stuff of legends.

Much like this pic.

Sources:
Brafman, Ori and Rom Brafman.  Sway: The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior.  Doubletree: New York 2008.
Langer, Ellen.  Counterclockwise:  Mindful Health and the Power of Possibility.  New York: Ballantine, 2009.
Russell, Sharmen Apt.  Hunger: An Unnatural History.  New York: Basic Books, 2005.

Deathrash - Thrash Beyond Death

Deathrash is a thrash band from New Jersey, forming in 1985 and putting out a sole demo in 86 called faces of death before breaking up not too long after, right before preparing to record another demo. The band reunited with all original members in 2005 despite not releasing anything thus far other then this compilation in 2006. This is thrash, the real deal, and in my opinion, not to be missed by true thrashers.


im gonna thrash beyond death

Lost Horizon - A Flame To The Ground Beneath

Upon first look at this band, im sure one would not know what to think. They look like a futuristic version of Manowar, they have black metal gone sci fi names such as Ethereal Magnanimus, Transcedental Protagonist, Equilibriun Epicirius, Cosmic Antagonist, Preternatural Transmogrifier, and Perspicacious Protector. But oddities aside, Lost Horizon play some of the most catchy and well crafted swedish power metal youre likely to ever hear. I dont listen to much power metal these days but i can say this band remains a guilty pleasure of mine. Spot on musicianship, masterfully crafted songs, and vocals that ARENT annoying (a bit over the top sometimes but other then that, the dude can sing like not many can) all wrapped up with an epic and majestic atmosphere. Fans of Helloween and Firewind...probably already worship this record.

manowar go to mars

Untimely Demise - City of Steel

Kids these days and their thrash. I know most metalheads worth a shit are over the whole thrash revival that came and basically went, leaving us with a few decent survivors. These canadians however could not care less as they formed only in 2007. The reason i am posting this is not that it will be the next big thing, but that i feel it was a bit overlooked when it came out. Untimely Demise play thrash with just the slightest hint of melodic death metal, riffs and solos are a plenty here and all around musicianship is quite impressive i might add as there is just the right amount of technical flair. The vocals never quite stray into death metal territory (other then the occasional backing vocals), more of a Kreator style sneering.


City of Steel

Vesicus - Magi: Within the Sigil of Kia

Vesicus is raw and noisy black metal from 3 of the guys in Mourner, a doom band from Tennessee. Yep thats right, black metal from Tennessee. Pretty interesting demo from last year, since this band only formed in 2010, i would imagine there will be more to come. Only fans of raw production need apply here.


Magi

Geistus - Geistus (demo)

Geistus is what started out a solo black metal project heavily influenced by Beherit and Von by Mr. Mike Scheidt from YOB, now expanded by adding an extra member. It appears this project is on hold maybe due to the somewhat reformation of YOB? Although i would absolutely love to hear more, and at that, hear what Geistus will sound like as a two piece, i have a hard time complaining what with the quality of the new YOB record. Having said all that, im definitely a fan of this type of black metal and Mr. Scheidt does it quite well.

GEISTUS

Salem - Collective Demise

Found myself listening to this today and well, remembered that i really like Salem. Honestly im more of a fan of their earlier stuff (thats what they all say right?) but i figured this is a pretty accessible "extreme" metal album. First off, i consider Salem to be a pretty important band in metal, as they were one of the earlier bands to play a type of black metal, as they have a live demo recorded in 1990! And they hail from Israel! So what started more or less black/death metal, they later shifted to more of a doom/death style, and now play more of a modernized type black/death with touches of doom.


Demise

Mortician - Zombie Apocalypse EP

So, for those of you that dont know me, i live in the northwest. Particularly an area that tends to have some pretty brutal winters with heavy snow and ice, much like an Immortal video. Anyways, as of last thursday we had virtually no snow on the ground which for mid january is actually pretty rare for us and that had me thinking that we got off easy. Not the case. Friday comes and pounds us hard with like a foot and a half of snow, i mean just pure white frosty rape. I drive a 99 chevy malibu so uh, not the best vehicle for this kind of weather and even after attempting to dig around it with a shovel for 3 hours i still couldnt manage to get it the fuck out of my parking spot at home. So my roomate comes home on his lunch break and since he drives a 4 wheel drive truck, offered to just tow it onto the street so i could be on my way (not that i would have made it far, im sure), so i say sure, what a great idea. What a problem solver. So he precedes to hook up a tow rope to his truck and my front bumper, attaching the hook to what he thought was a tow hook. Turns out it wasnt...it was some sort of vitally important coolant line or something, and when he started to "tow" it, that line snapped, along with some other various plastic shit that was under my car, rendering it undriveable.

Long story short i have been stranded at home until monday when i can get a mechanic to look at it, and im getting serious cabin fever, not to mention the winter blues have been hitting me hard this year. I have been living off a diet of rockstar energy drinks, hot dogs, and whatever else i can find in my fridge since i havent been able to drive to the store and have done nothing but watch Archer, and various horror movies. And to get to the point, my choice of posting one of my long time favorite death metal bands kinda reflects on how i have felt the last few days. I seriously thank anyone who actually read this far, and enjoys Mortician as much as i do. Most people hate them.


Zombie attack!!!!

Just Sitting Around on Your Ass This Sunday?

...and not about to do something involving these girls?

Then go to www.powerliftingwatch.com and watch Jamie live at his meet at Raw Unity.  It starts at 10 am CST.  (About 20 minutes after this post was put up.)  That is, if you're not going to do anything useful today, at least watch someone who is.

Bloodsoaked - Frost Image

Bloodsoaked were a very important band in the early Mexican death metal scene. Early on they had opened for bands like Obituary and Rotting Christ, and in 91 toured with Napalm Death and Sadistic Intent. Another cool fact, The Chasm's first ever show was when they opened for Bloodsoaked for the release show of this very album. Members of Bloodsoaked have also been in Anarchus and Morbosidad. They are still making music today under the name Sol Negro, however their current sound is more of a black/doom affair although very good, i will try and post some of that stuff at a later time. Until then, enjoy this piece of historical mexican death metal.



proto mexi

Genocide - Black Sanctuary

I give to you, Japans version of Mercyful Fate. Not nearly as good (nobody is) and a little more on the doomy side, you get some pretty crazy wailing vocals and decent riffs to go with it. Nobody will ever top the King, you should know that by now.



worship the fate

A Complete Aside To Discuss How Much America Currently Sucks

For those of you who are American, I'm sure you know we appear on the precipice of some dark days.  If you've not attempted to access Wikipedia today, you might take a moment to do so- it's not working.  Instead, there is a message up regarding Wikipedia's protest of the legislation before Congress known as SOPA and PIPA.  

This about sums up my feelings on everything.

"The Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA), also known as House Bill 3261 or H.R. 3261, is a bill that was introduced in the United States House of Representatives on October 26, 2011, by House Judiciary Committee Chair Representative Lamar S. Smith (R-TX) and a bipartisan group of 12 initial co-sponsors. The bill, if made law, would expand the ability of U.S. law enforcement and copyright holders to fight online trafficking in copyrighted intellectual property and counterfeit goods.  Presented to the House Judiciary Committee, it builds on the similar PRO-IP Act of 2008 and the corresponding Senate bill, the PROTECT IP Act.


The originally proposed bill would allow the U.S. Department of Justice, as well as copyright holders, to seek court orders against websites accused of enabling or facilitating copyright infringement. Depending on who makes the request, the court order could include barring online advertising networks and payment facilitators from doing business with the allegedly infringing website, barring search engines from linking to such sites, and requiring Internet service providers to block access to such sites. The bill would make unauthorized streaming of copyrighted content a crime, with a maximum penalty of five years in prison for ten such infringements within six months. The bill also gives immunity to Internet services that voluntarily take action against websites dedicated to infringement, while making liable for damages any copyright holder who knowingly misrepresents that a website is dedicated to infringement." (Wiki)


This is a big bag of bullshit, since it'd mean the death of great sites like mediafire, megaupload, and every music blog on Earth.  Additionally, large corporations could sue the bejeesus out of any small site they wanted to silence them for their views if there was something that could be construed as copyright infringement on that site... including me.


"The PROTECT IP Act (Preventing Real Online Threats to Economic Creativity and Theft of Intellectual Property Act of 2011 or PIPA), also known as Senate Bill 968 or S. 968, is a proposed law with the stated goal of giving the US government and copyright holders additional tools to curb access to "rogue websites dedicated to infringing or counterfeit goods", especially those registered outside the U.S. The bill was introduced on May 12, 2011, by Senator Patrick Leahy (D-VT) and 11 bipartisan co-sponsors. The Congressional Budget Office estimated that implementation of the bill would cost the federal government $47 million through 2016, to cover enforcement costs and the hiring and training of 22 new special agents and 26 support staff." (Wiki) 


This means we get to pay for policing the internet in other nations, which is even more awesome, since the US is broke as fuck.  Thus, politicians want to blow more of your money on overseas adventures that net the taxpayer nothing but failed downloads and more cops.  


If you're lazy as fuck, feel free to copy my email, which I've got below.  You can find out to whom you should send it by going to Wikipedia and entering your zip code.  For those fuzzy foreigners among you, I guess you can sit around with your thumbs up your asses like you do in any global conflict.  Russians, continue torturing cats or whatever it is you do in your free time.


My email (which I sent to all of my local Congressmen):
I am typically loathe to address my elected representatives due to the fact that I am quite sure that they do not represent me.  In spite of this fact, sir, I am reaching out to you to voice my displeasure with the looming legislation regarding the extension of the United States' burgeoning police state to the internet.  I refer, of course, to the bills before Congress known colloquially as SOPA and PIPA.  While I am sure you and your colleagues stand to gain a great deal monetarily from your support of such legislation, I would appeal to whatever humanity you have left and ask that you refrain from making the lives of your constituents any more awful than you have already done with the last ten years of violent mismanagement of our nation's economy.  


In an America where virtually all hope for a better future is lost, I would ask that you leave us our present.  Congress and the White House have certainly done enough to destroy what's left of our former beacon of freedom, and the limitation of the free flow of information would certainly seal freedom's coffin.


Additionally, I will appeal to your inhuman side ans state, for a fact, that I do not know of a single person who would allow a politician into their home at this point- your profession is viewed with the same distaste people generally reserve for grave robbers and child pornographers. Perhaps if you would find it in your blackened heart to refrain from making our already bleak lives more unpleasant, you could see your approval ratings rise from "I would vigorously defend my property with deadly force against this man's incursion if he happened to chase a stray baseball into my yard" to "I would not spit on that person on the street if given the opportunity".  That, of course, was not a threat, but rather a tongue-in-cheek reference to Congress's historically (and comically) low approval ratings.


A good day to you,


Jameson Lewis


For those of you who don't give a shit about any of this, you're fucking retarded.  In any event, I should have a new Baddest Motherfucker up tomorrow about Stan Efferding, and will give you an update from RAW Unity over the weekend (including a heads up about how Johnny Jackson does).  Until then, tits.

  

Perverseraph/Namtaru split

Perverseraph and Namtaru were two bands from Philly playing a "war" type black/death metal. Either band never did very much, probably because they both shared members with bands like Goreaphobia, Symphony of Grief, and Deteriorate, so talk about a winning pedigree. I guarantee an entertaining listen for fellow Blasphemy fans.



Fukkin War

Vorphalack - Daemonium Magister EP

Wow what the fuck is wrong with me, 3 posts in one day? Well thats me for you, unstable and unpredictable. Moving on...I love this EP, as short as it is even. It took me a while to actually WANT to hear it, especially after listening to Vorphalacks sole full length which came out a few years before this, as i found it to be pretty lackluster. However whatever magic conjured up on this EP needs to be furthered for a full length, as i found it to be full of atmospheric Greek mysticism, and i must have more.


straight from the hellas to your earholes

1389 - Cold Winter Spirit (demo)

Vozd Jovan Pogani is nothing if not persistant. Since starting 1389 in 2008 he already has close to 20 releases, and a few of those are even full lengths. Like my previous post, this demo isnt all too different, a little more raw, but still that early 90s worship (Darkthrone in this case, particularly) that i have absolutely no problem with. If a band wants to wear its influences on its sleeve then more power to them, as long as they arent claiming to be original. Original? In metal? Fuck off.


1389

666 - Ave Satan!

I dont even remember how i stumbled upon this band to begin with, possible because the members have done time in the awesom MARBLEBOG, and that is something that would mean something to me. However 666 (what an awesomely simple name) has little in common with said band, going for more of an early 90s Scandinavian approach. Its a tried and true method, but they do it just fine according to my ears.


666!

vit - "-"

For those of you that have a tendency to be late to the party, (as i often am) and are fans of the popular Cascadian black metal of late (im starting to hate that term), Vit will be right up your alley. This full length came out in 2010, i first heard it about a year ago, gave it a few listens and i think you can expect them to become bigger players in whatever scene this kind of thing goes for. Dont get me wrong, lazy sloppy description, but i do like this album.  And what Vit bring to the table is kind of a black metal/sludge combo, with cool elements such as banjo that you dont hear often, and not only that, they make it work. AND, note that this came out BEFORE the newest Glorior Belli and Taake records, hint hint.


-

Prophecy - Foretold...Foreseen

Im feeling pretty shitty today, somehow got sick in my sleep, slept in and was late for work, now im sitting on the couch with a pounding headache. What should i do? Definitely not listen to this, listening to this album with a headache would definitely make your pretty little head split apart with its Dying Fetus esque grooves and slams offering little respite, only to be found with the cool James Murphy esque solos that pop up every now and then.



Dont fuck with Texas

Year of the Goat - Lucem Ferre

Ill just start off saying that year of the goat from sweden play a type of occult rock that has been getting popular lately, not any kind of bestial black/death you might expect from the name. If youre still reading, and like the aforementioned "genre", then youll want to at least check this out. Should make for a nice addition to your Devils Blood and Jex Thoth records.


Kiss the Goat

Go Fucking Feral #2- A Shutthefuckup Salad With A Side of Extra Rants

I mean, you gotta behave like a grown fucking man. You gotta shut the fuck up. Don't be sorry, don't look fucking back, because, believe me, no one gives a fuck.

In the last installment of this series, we covered the fact that I've recently received a spate of emails from alleged men who apparently lack both testicular fortitude and any semblance of comprehension of my metholodogy or mentality.  This has, of course, angered me greatly.  I provided a couple of examples of feral children and their awesomeness as a bit of evidence for the fact that you're far more physically capable than you would have otherwise thought, and could likely do some amazing things if you could only stop convincing yourself, and allowing others to convince you, that you suck at everything you try, are weak, and are doomed to wallow in a sea of suck for all eternity.

The time for genocide is now.

A short aside:  One of the most virulent and offensive exhibitions of this "I suck and can't help it" mentality is the practice of setting a New Year's resolution.  In setting a NYR, you're doing a couple of things, all of which are about as cool as those grown men who brag about watching My Little Pony and write fan fiction for the show.  First, you're announcing to the world that you've identified a fault within yourself and refused to resolve it.  Second, you've decided to procrastinate on even pretending to resolve the issue until an arbitrary date.  Third, you're making a hell of a lot of noise about nothing, since only about 12% of people who make New Years Resolutions enjoy anything resembling success.(Quirkology)  It's a fucking embarrassment of fat, drunken David Hasselhoff with a hamburger proportions.  If you think you suck, fucking stop sucking immediately.  Women, I'm pointing at you and your motherfucking diets- there's no goddamned time like the present.  Stop putting shit off until tomorrow like you're a modern day J. Wellington Wimpy, who is perhaps the cartoon character most deserving of a curb stomp in history.

Every fuckin’ beatin’ I’m grateful for. Every fuckin’ one of them. Get all the trust beat outta you. And you know what the fuckin’ world is.

Back to my original rant:
I realize that the internet provides a lot of you with a cloak and mask from which you can hide from the world and publish your dumbest thoughts and desires with impunity, and a great many of you make full use of that anonymity for naught but evil.(Fingeroth 48)  I don't even mean "evil" in a badass Dr. Doom sense, and no, your brainless trolling of some random forum is neither amusing nor clever nor terribly evil- it's pathetic, wasteful, and should be the catalyst for your suicide rather than the suicide of others.  Instead, I mean evil in the "little e" sense- like the evil perpetrated by a particularly dull and ineffectually annoying toddler too fat and lazy to get into any real trouble.  The world would likely be better off if most of us stopped fucking breathing anyway- a recent poll revealed that Americans considered this pack of assholes to be the most admirable men in the country:


1) Barack Obama- a president who went from "suck" to "shit" in record time and managed not to do a single thing promised on the campaign trail, a feat only previously accomplished by James A Garfield and William Henry Harrison.  For those of you who are either foreign or a moron, both of them died within a year of taking office and spent the entirety of their term on their deathbeds.  If only Obama had had the good graces to do that.
2) George W. Bush- The single worst US president in the last 100 years.  Jimmy Carter was a boon to the economic and international politics compared to this useless cocksucker, may he rot in hell.  If any of you participated in this poll, let ANYONE who's aware of it know so they can strangle you to death with some rusty barbwire. 
3) Bill Clinton- Irrelevant unless you want advice on banging fat broads and getting caught thereafter.  Then, bang more fat broads to forget your married to the angriest lesbian this side of Gloria Steinem.
4) Rev. Billy Graham- Religious lunatic who makes senior Al Qaeda members seem like reasonable and rational men by comparison.  Billy Graham is so insane for Jesus that he literally yells "I'm Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs" in the middle of the Lord's Prayer while shitting his pants and heaving handfuls of sparkles at an audience who could only be there because one of his stable of eunuchs is holding a knife inscribed with John 3:16 to the throats of their parents.
5) Warren Buffett- Pompous blowhard who's become rich by being a real life Scrooge McDuck.  That motherfucker pinches pennies so hard he made half of his fortune by warping coins for children at Please Touch Museums.  He sustained himself during this enterprise by living off the tears of the children who couldn't pry the coin out of his wretched claws after he squeezed it into an unrecognizable state.
6-tie) Newt Gingrich- Drug addict, pompous ass, and writer of unreadable yet enticing historical fiction.  His books make you want to claw out your fucking eyes within 16 pages, but you keep going because the dust cover promised more awesome than a gangbang at a Disney Channel 15 year reunion.
6-tie) Donald Trump- The only interesting person on the list, if only because of the fact that one of the richest men in America apparently cannot afford a decent toupee or stylist.
8) Pope Benedict XVI- The emperor from Star Wars made it onto this list, which fascinates me.
9) Bill Gates- The genius behind Windows ME, Windows 7 (FUCK THE UAC IN IT'S HORRIBLE, STUPID ASS.  If you don't know what I'm referring to you must either be a Mac owner or computer illiterate.  As I suppose those are the same thing, you're either computer illiterate or a computer illiterate hipster who should find an ironic bleach and drink it), and Clippy, that ever-so-helpful cocksucker of an obnoxious popup paperclip.  Fuck this guy.
10) Thomas Monson- I've no idea how anyone even knows this guys name, or why they give a shit.  Apparently, you can't swing a dead cat in a closet without hitting 43 Mormons.  Sneaky motherfuckers.


Throw on top of that list the fact that the number of people in the US who think humans were created by god in their present form within the last 10,000 years is at or over 40% (Science and Nature), and you've got a fairly compelling reason to kill half of the population outright, without a single regret.  That would be feral.  The shit that I see on a daily basis is about as feral as a newborn lamb on a pile of pink cotton candy wearing Care Bears underoos with Michael Bolton playing softly in the background.

There is no reason for the inclusion of this picture other than the fact that it exists.

I realize that in the intervening week between posts, this seems like a hell of a lot of rant without reason, but I assure you, my reasons are legion.  The docility and submissiveness in the verbiage of the emails I've received of late is appalling, and I thought it necessary to instill a bit of fear in you motherfuckers- that shit will not be tolerated.  As such, here are a couple examples of the nonsense I've received, with my analysis thereof and response thereto.


"So here's my skinny. My pitch and my "hey". I will devote whatever of myself is required, to make me a huge dastardly mother fucker. And I want you to help me. I want to workout twice a day. I want to drag anchor chains and pull 1.5" line attached to a truck. I want to do sprints and tire flips. I want to sprint hurdles and do high jumps. I want to use chalk when I talk on the phone. I want to be a legendary strong man, and have every possible vein in my body pulse like a new song from Skrillex on ecstasy. Can you do this for me? Will you be my coach? Will you help me achieve greatness at an exceptional level? I want more out of life and for me, it comes from the grueling tediocity of power, strength, and weight lifting. Be my coach homie. Be my mentor and make me a fucking monster. Please. 


I have more motivation than 50 of your bloggers put together...I just need to be "told" what to do."


I suppose it goes without saying that the final line of that email is one of the most patently disingenuous statements ever uttered within my proverbial earshot- if he was that motivated, he'd need no direction other than that which would show him where the nearest useful gym was located.  The entire tone of this email drips with desire for acceptance, yet the author clearly fails to understand even the most basic tenets of my life philosophy and the mentality I promote.  

There are essentially two types of people in the world, and they're very aptly depicted in the Matrix- those content to pretend to live in freedom, and those who will actually endure the pain of doing so.  I'm the latter, whereas the author of this email is very clearly the former.  He's the dickbag in the Matrix who sells out his buddies for the illusion of a delicious steak, knowing it's total bullshit but refusing to care.

"Whereas those who sleep within the Matrix have the illusion of individual freedom... while being slaves to the worst aspects of collective consciousness, those who are truly free ultimately fight alone.  Which is preferable?  Our instincts tell us to be alone and aware, with the perhaps distant hopeof building a community.  Even if we fail at building it, or its goals are never revelaed, we still know we have tried.  We'd rather be alone- orphans- on our own terms than to be taken care of it is as slaves to a government or machine, or even an idea."(Fingeroth 71)  

If you want to "do Chaos and Pain", asking me to program your workouts is obviously not the way to go about it.  The entire point of this methodology is to find what works best for you and do it, and to throw off the strictures and shackles heaped upon you by a weak-minded and -bodied society to find your own way.  It's to try new shit, push yourself harder and farther than everyone else, and transcend the mediocrity of the masses to achieve excellence.  It's not about doing what I fucking tell you, because I'm not in the business of telling people what to fucking do.  The very idea someone would want to be told what to do fucking disgusts me.  For the love of all that's fucking holy, don't bend your knee to me- I neither want acolytes nor need them.  I wish for nothing more than other people to get off their knees, stop sucking the cocks of supposed gurus because it's popular to do so and far easier than thinking for your fucking self, and do something epic.  I leave the demagoguery to people like Mark Rippetoe and Zach Evan-Esh, because I choose to lead by example.  If you motherfuckers want to follow me where my path takes me, that's fine by me- I'm happy to beat down the fucking bushes and blaze a path for like-minded individuals.  I will not, however, carry you motherfuckers in a loving embrace and gently part the palm fronds for you.  Think for your fucking selves and DO for your fucking selves.

Those of you asking me for programs are this guy, exactly.  If any of you had any balls, you'd do what we all wanted to do to this fucker when watching the Matrix, step outside yourself and hand yourself a beating that would make even the likes of Fred Ettish take pause at its utter severity.

What you should not be doing, however, is deluding yourself into thinking you're free when you want nothing more than to be in a gimp suit in my basement.  That's not my style- it's way too much fucking work and responsibility.  Additionally, I have no idea how I would go about influencing someone to be like my.  I exist because I'm not swayed by the influence of others- I assimilate massive amounts of information and utilize it to make decisions after experimenting with the aforementioned information as the basis.  I do this without consulting anyone else- not my mom, nor lifting coaches, nor my friends or random passers by.  I rely on myself, my balls, and the knowledge that no matter what result I achieve, I did so at my own behest and as the result of my own thoughts and actions.  That is what being free is all about.

For those of you who are still confused, the people who truly understand this blog will agree that we're not the fucking X-Men- that is to say, we're not a group of misfits persecuted by society and united by fear and ostracization that band together for mutual protection like a herd of cattle.  Instead, we're like a Punisher/Wolverine/Hulk team up writ large- a pack of loosely coordinated, like-minded, pissed off individualists hell bent on bringing our fight to the world's doorstep.  Stop looking for a fucking handout, grasp your cock or your cunt, and attack the world for being the soggy pile of dogshit that it is.  That's what feral humans do, and that's what you could be if you stopped thinking about what you were going to do and simply fucking did it.  The Wild Man of St. Louis, a feral adult who was captured for no apparent reason in the 19th Century, took no shit from anyone, least of all cats, and when cornered fought overwhelming odds and escaped the second he could.  Instead of thinking about doing shit, plotting to do it, talking about it, and ultimately accomplishing fuckall, he went superhuman on society's ass and maintained his freedom from the litany of bullshit with which the rest of us have to deal on a daily basis.

"The wild man, of whom some accounts appeared in the papers, was caught lately and brought to St. Louis. He was surrounded in a sort of lair beneath a dense cluster of undergrowth, like the habitation of a wild beast, and filled with the bones and skin of cats, which seemed to have constituted his principal article of food. For this strange diet he had a peculiar penchant, and eschewed almost every other. He hunted cats with an avidity prompted by an extreme voracity, and it was in the pursuit and slaughter of these animals that he was first discovered. Frequent attempts were made to capture him, but his agility and speed was such that he appeared to run upon the tops of the bushes, and fences offered no impediment to his headlong course. At length a great number surrounded and secured him. He attempted battle, but was overcome. When brought to the Court House he presented the strangest appearance conceivable. His height was about five and a half feet, his hair was long, reddish brown and matted, his eyes large, gray, and restless, his finger nails as long as the claws of a tiger, his deportment crouching --half timid half threatening--and his garments consisted of a thousand tatters of cloths, barks, cat-skins, &c, bound together by catguts. He said he was from the State of New York, and had been in the woods thirty-six years. While he was being examined, and was permitted to stand unbound, he made a sudden spring over the heads of those who surrounded him, and darted away with the speed of the reindeer. The crowd pursued him, but in vain. Over the hills he fairly flew, before footmen and horsemen, until he was lost to them. Nothing has since been heard of him. He is certainly a strange being, and is literally a wild man. His age can hardly exceed forty, and yet he has lived so much away from the society of man that he has nearly forgotten his language and has the most vague recollection of things. He remembered New York, but did not know where he was, nor the form of government under which we lived. Dr. Knode was examining him when he escaped, and it is to be regretted that the doctor could not have had an opportunity of ascertaining the character of his mania."(Frank Leslie)

"There's no short cut, no easy way.  No one can give us freedom or happiness- because anyone with the power to protect us has the power to kill or enslave us as well."(Stanton 163)


"I'll start this program on Monday (i'm OCD and have to start a program on a Monday. It's weird, I know) and increase and decrease the volume as needed depending on how I feel."


This is, without question, indicative of the worst feature of modern society- the desire to be disordered.  No one takes responsibility for their actions any longer.  They're helpless pawns of their genes, and everyone's genes are apparently rife with horrible mutations of one sort or another.  For those of you who aren't following, this stupid motherfucker does not have OCD, and his use of the term indicates that he's either painfully stupid or so weak of character that his mommy has to coax him out of bed in the mornings to get him to start his day.  After cutting the crusts off his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, she apparently allows him to use the computer, which he does at the risk of destroying what little dignity he has left.


For those of you out there who might be empathizing with this sad sack of shit, slap yourself in the face like you're a 1940's housewife who burned the meatloaf, because you're being a fucking cunt.  You're not disordered.  Your thyroid isn't the problem.  Your metabolism isn't the problem.  your ratio of Type I to Type II fibers is not the problem.  You brain is the fucking problem.  You've nothing preventing you from starting a workout program on a Wednesday, a new diet today, or a new exercise in your next workout other than fear and stupidity.  

The Afghanis know how to do one thing right- identify and lock up their lunatics.  Unless you're crazy enough to be in leg shackles, shut the fuck up about your "disorders", already.

Though they've fallen out of favor in deference to our society's overwhelming obsession with the contents of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, heroes in literature used to be fucking awesome.  Influenced heavily be the amazing book I've mentioned before, Gladiator,  a new type of hero became popular in the 1930s and 40s: "the self reliant individualist who stands aloof from many of the humdrum concerns of society, yet is able to operate according to his own code of honor, to take on the world on his own terms and win." (Reynolds 18)  These guys were all aloof, cocky, loner badasses who fucked shit up with impunity while giving the world the finger in a way Kid Rock could only dream about.  They didn't excuse their stupidity by blaming it on a disorder invented by psychiatrists so they could get kickbacks from pharmaceutical companies- they brought the fucking ruckus at every opportunity.  They didn't pause to consider their myriad failings, nor did they stop to justify their fear of the unknown with a pathetic excuse- they acted.


If you're on the fence about what to do to get yourself out of a rut, that's not uncommon.  Psychologist Rom Brafman has identified the root of the problem- there's a sway from which many people suffer, myself included, called "commitment", in which people get so stuck in their ways that they cannot rationally evaluate their alternatives.  As such, you have to simply get fucking feral, stop thinking, and go.  He who hesitates is lost.  Don't be a dithering bitch- act.  Try something new that you've thought was cool but were scared to try.  Do squat lockouts with half a ton.  Push your car down the street.  Try some ultra-heavy hand and thigh lifts.  Do a barbell one arm snatch.  See how fucking far you can throw a keg full of sand.  Or beer.  Grab a chick's ass in a bar.  DO SOMETHING.

If you saw this chick and didn't grab her ass, you'd have failed at life.

"So, are you really all-natural?/You're a roidhead and everything you say is bullshit/are you on steroids, if so where can I get some/etc."


Initially, I regarded these emails with a bit of sadness, because the authors were clearly mentally retarded.  As such, I wondered how or why they stumbled across my blog, and then how they managed to compose their emails.  My most recent exchange in regards to this subject truly pissed me off, as pussies who couldn't handle my workout weights have no fucking business demanding that I answer their stupid, irrelevant, and ultimately pointless questions.  Additionally, I've stated many times that all of the "testosterone boosters" promoted in the US in the last decade have been steroids, most of which were based on the formulations of the now-defunct Balco Labs.  I've used those supplements, repeatedly, and have promoted them on my blog.  I don't consider myself natural, don't give a shit who is natural, think that self-promoters screaming about how natural they are likely have the lot of you snowed, and couldn't possibly care less about who's using what.  


There's only one type of person who does:  Pussies.  Big, sloppy, wet, yawning cavities of vaginas, slavering for a big cock to fill them with goodness to remove the empty feeling inside them.  If you're busy worrying about who's on what and when and how much and why, you're doing one thing- looking for the starting point for a litany of excuses.  All you have to do is read their retorts to see how pathetic their mindset really is, because they'll all sing the same sad-sack refrain- it's cheating, they can't compete, there's no comparison between natural trainees and geared lifters, ignoring all the while that most of the truly impressive strength feats predate steroids.  These stupid pieces of shit will explain away guys like Saxon and Sandow and Aston and Maxick as freaks of nature and irrelevant, because those examples completely destroy their bullshit argument.  Even when people compete in tested competitions, these "natty" lifters will call bullshit- look at all of the accusations flying around about Konstantin Konstantinovs, for instance.

Danny Fingeroth actually had an interesting point about the fact that some people love to differentiate themselves from those who beat their asses at anything at all- they're Superman fans.   

"Is it easier to read of a superior being from beyond the stars outclassing us that of a guy from down the block who was just luckier or stronger or smarter?  Maybe that's the key.  Maybe we feel uncomfortable with the idea that we're not living up to our potential, or that someone else has more potential than we do.  Or that they're living up to their potential better than we are to ours?  But if someone else isn't really playing on the same field or by the same rules we do... then maybe we don't have to feel so bad about ourselves.  I suppose this would characterize the Superman fan more than, say, the Batman fan."(Fingeroth 32)

If you're lost, and those of you still shouting insipid retorts to my earlier comments doubtless are, allow me to elucidate this point.  Non-powered superheros, or those with non-superfuckingfantastic powers, go toe to fucking toe with the Supermans and Green Lanterns and Wonder Mans of the comic book universe without a second thought.  The Punisher, for instance, went toe to toe with the Hulk, and at no point bitched about the fact taht the Hulk had superpowers and he didn't.  Likewise, Hawkeye fought the Beyonder in Secret Wars without taking his toys and going home because the Beyonder was "cheating", and Batman beat the everloving shit out of that punk-bitch Boy Scout Superman with nothing but hate on his side(and an exoskeleton, but fuck, he was a senior citizen at that point).  "A winner is used to accepting full responsibility for his actions", "immediately takes charge even when he lacks the authority to do so", and that "a sour-faced, pessimistic attitude is for losers, not for winners", which is why those guys didn't take shit from the "cheaters" and just charged headlong into the fucking fray.(Van Fleet 64-66)  Feral humans, similarly, don't make fucking excuses about their opponents and claim they cannot compete- they react, adapt, and overcome using nothing but their balls and a hell of a lot of aggression.  To wit:

"The story of the Wild Girl of Champagne is detailed by a trustworthy French writer, M. de la Condamine. One evening, in September, 1731, the people of the village of Songi were alarmed by the entrance into the street of a girl, seemingly nine or ten years old, covered with rags and skins, and having face and hands black as those of a negro. She had a gourd leaf on her head, and was armed with a short baton. So strange was her aspect that those who observed her took to their heels and ran in-doors, exclaiming, "The devil! the devil!" Bolts were drawn in all quarters, and one man thought to insure safety by letting loose a large bull-dog. The little savage flinched not as the animal advanced in a fury, but throwing herself backwards on one limb, and grasping her club with both hands, she discharged a blow at the head of the dog, as it came nigh her, with such force and celerity as to kill it on the spot. Elated with her victory, she jumped several times on the carcass; after which she tried in vain to enter a house, and then ran back to the wood, where she mounted a tree and fell asleep."(Frank Leslie)

I didn't stop to think about why my traps weren't hideously large- I just kept adding weight to the bar and shrugging until my shirt collar touched my fucking ears.

Clearly, the Wild Girl of Champagne didn't stop to rationalize the unfairness of pitting a 10 year old girl against a full-grown bulldog, because she was feral and thus awesome.  In stark contrast to feral humans, however, most "people adjusted their judgments of the desirability of a future event to make them congruent with its perceived likelihood, but only when the event triggered motivational involvement."(Kay)  In other words, they adjust their goals to match the perceived likelihood that they'll be achieved- thus spiraling into a progressive downward spiral of expectations because they will tell themselves they cannot do something, suck as a result, and readjust their expectations downward again.  They thus would have just thrown their hands in the air and been eaten by that bulldog were they placed in the Wild Girl's position, because they would have thought that it would have been pointless to fight and would have consigned themselves to death.  That pathetic fucking behavior is the reason these dickbags on messageboards, and the retards who email me, constantly blather on about steroids- they're piss weak, embarrassed to be alive, and want a reason to rationalize their failure at life.   If you're one of the pussies still squealing about the magic of steroids, consider this:


Steroids are not magical, they don't make people superhuman, and they're not the reason why guys or girls in the gym outlift you- your lack of intestinal fortitude, hard work, drive, determination, aggression, and hate are the reason you fucking suck.


Thus endeth my rant.  You can, and should, be better than you are.  Stop asking other people for validation and assistance and fucking do it yourself.  

I guarantee you this broad's not asking anyone for validation.

Sources:
Fingeroth, Danny.  Superman on the Couch:  What Superheros Really Tell Us About Ourselves and Our Society.  New York: Continuum, 2004.
Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper.  May 23, 1857, no. 76, p. 380, col A.  http://www.erbzine.com/mag21/2157.html
Grossman, Cathy Lynn.  "Obama, Clinton top most-admired lists for 2011."  USA Today.  12/27/11. http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/story/2011-12-27/most-admired-people-2011/52243574/1
Kay AC, Jiminez MC, and Jost JT.  Sour Grapes, Sweet Lemons, and the Anticipatory Rationalization of the Status Quo.  Pers Soc Psychol Bull (2002) 28:9 1300-1312
Quirkology.  New Years Resolution Experiment.  http://www.quirkology.com/UK/Experiment_resolution.shtml
Reynolds, Richard.  Super Heros: A Modern Mythology.  Jackson:  University Press of Mississippi, 1992
Science and Nature.  Polling Report.  http://www.pollingreport.com/science.htm
Stanton, J.  The Gnoll Credo.  Zephyr Cove: 100 Watt Press, 2010.
Van Fleet, James K.  Hidden Power: How to Unleash the Power of Your Subconscious Mind.  Paramus: Prentice Hall, 1987.