*A Declaration of War

Consider this blog a manifesto. A declaration of war. A paean to the gods above. Whatever you consider it, it will stand as a bulwark against the close-mindedness and defeatism of the fitness and health industries, and a call to arms for like-minded individuals to pick up a steak and head to the fucking gym to move brutal weight.

You won't read the same hackneyed shit you see in the mags on here. Hell, you won't even read this on the most out-there sites. What I propose is unique, and is a fluid and evolving system by which anyone can get lean as hell and strong as fuck.

Topics to be covered:

Somatotyping

Metabolic Typing

High Volume Training

Dinosaur Training

HIT

Old School strength athletes

The evolution of physical culture

Paleo dieting

and whatever else I feel like touching on.

Look for three posts a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. They will come in the form of reviews of various diets/books, profiles of strength athletes, and my ruminations on everything strength and diet. My knowledge has built me into a fucking machine, starting as a small boned chubby kid of 5'6" 130 into a brick shithouse at about 175. It didn't happen overnight, but my failures can be your gains.

Br00tality.

This is the guy that killed her.

This guy. This is the sewing machine murderer.

Monogram pouches with a little bat frame.
Only the 'M' is currently listed for sale, but there are more letters available.

I actually made a little batch of them. Whenever I sew I try to do a bunch at once because I always loose my zeal for it halfway through and then don't want to sew again for months.

These are the letters that made it through to pouch form ('B' got screwed up and 'A' was somehow lost...) I will be posting them in the shop in a lazy and haphazard manner in the next day or so. I have to fight with every photo in Photoshop to try and make the black on black details show without washing out the blackness. Its *challenging.* Things always look fine on my screen then I upload to Etsy and it looks like crap.

I think I will try some more monogram items this weekend. I totally love how it looks. Expect some sort of monogram bookmark (yes!) or pin set (hmmm.) I will have to test drive a few designs.

What letters should I do?

She was only 39...

A horrible tragedy!

I mourn.

My hand-me-down sewing machine (from Grandma) might have just bit the big one. My 1970 Singer Touch and Sew 758 gave Gran years of service, and then got trucked down to Toronto with me a few years ago, along with its custom sewing table. For some reason I thought it was just immortal, and would go on working forever and ever...

Here it is in its skeleton making glory. *snifff*

I took it all apart and found that some gears have broken their teeth, and things are just wearing down. I use it to chug through serious fabric, thick felts and velvets and canvas, and hardly ever clean it, so I shouldn't be surprised. Plus Grandma sewed for a family of one billion. I bet if this machine had a notch for every pair of hemmed jeans it would blow your mind.

And it died exactly in the middle of me making a ton of new pouches. Argh! I almost went and got a garbage bag and just threw everything away. I was that annoyed.

So its back to my new sewing machine. I mean, its ok. I guess.

But its plastic, lightweight, small, has a foot pedal instead of knee pedal, a short ass cord, it jams and tangles, and its loud. I just really loved the solid heavy old machine that would sew through anything (including my entire finger!)

So I am grumpy. I should never have praised my grannie-machine on Twitter. I cursed myself!

I am going to see if the old one can be fixed, but gear replacement from a vintage machine shop is at least $70. I can get a whole new (1970) Touch and Sew on Ebay for $80. Will mull it over. Its not so much the money as the "this machine is ancient and must pass away" that is making me grouch.

That is the end of my complaining blog. Go about your business...