I Eat Green Berets For Breakfast.

Recently, Zoidberg's partner in muscular crime, John Matrix, seems depressed at the gymnasium.


Maybe the logs are getting too heavy.

This is difficult for Zoids to imagine, because Matrix rules the squat rack with an iron fist and suitably embarrasses the myriad 1/4 squat weirdos that lilt grunting into our zone. Matrix has confessed that he doesn't feel as excited at the gym lately, instead of the rush of endorphins and other wondrous chemicals he feels ennui and a general lackadaisical malaise.

After careful consideration of the facts I have come to the conclusion that this is directly related to the fact that we exercise at 6pm at an awful gym, chock-full of man-turbos.

Matrix may try and attribute this indifference to the fact that our workouts seem boring lately, and a change may solve the problem but that would ignore the fact that the past few months have seen a tremendous increase the masses he lifts. The answer to this problem of indifference does not necessarily preclude the complete re-arrangement of an exercise regime, such a change would be deleterious to progress, hacking away gains made over the past few months. It would also not attack the problem at its source: bad gym.

Environment plays a crucial role in the enjoyment of exercise. If you are in a room that is not conducive to feats of strength, you will find your concentration, motivation, and purpose wane. I always find that my rowing performance suffers greatly when I erg at the gym on base, a tiny claustrophobic room where I face a plaster wall for 8x500M. It is not because I am lazy, or my workout is boring and needs a change, it is due to the fact that I want to row someplace where it is enjoyable.

"Ho HO there!" you say, "Surely your objective philosophy does not leave room for nurture vs. nature!"

To you I reply, "Go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut."

Yes, some people are blessed to have the unquestioning, unflagging impetus. These Hank Reardens are truly wondrous. However, some of us greatly benefit from being in an environment that allows the testosterone to flow more willingly. As much as I love deadlifts, when Ashlee Simpson floats over the sickly sweet breeze of a thousand turbodouche's Drakar Noire, I get crabby and indifferent.

Does this make me less of a committed lifter? Of course. It would be wrong for me to claim the same drive as someone who obviously needs no environmental influence. But we should work with the problem rather than continuing to drudge in and out of that awful gym, hoping that a squat rack won't be occupied by someone doing barbell calf-raises.

So what is the solution? Well, unfortunately we don't have the capital to create our own gym yet, but that will be forthcoming. Also, we can't exercise during the day as we pretend to have jobs. Perhaps a change of environment might be enough of a change of pace. My old stomping grounds, Bailey's Xroads, is not nearly as crowded and is populated by a more serious weightlifting crowd...at least it used to be...which might be enough of a difference to remind J-tox that he should not lower himself to feel influenced by the wastes of life.

Torture

Demands. Rights. Etc.

I can't exist for 30 seconds without getting force fed the opinion that somehow the government must expiate itself by providing for its people things I am unclear they deserve or have the right to ask for. I haven't lived long, but I can't help but feel a growing trend (especially in my age bracket) that people yearn for the unearned. Somehow, people have got it in their heads that certain inalienable rights now extend to social security, health care, privacy, money money money.

At what cost, and to whom?

Our Constitution protects its citizens so that they may have life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Happiness in not guaranteed. If you are unable to support yourself, it is not the government (or its citizens) obligation to support you. If you seek to infringe upon the freedom of others (terrorists) your liberty, privacy, rights, and property are void.

Our Constitution set forth to hammer forth the principle that all men are entitled to their life. Freedom to pursue and achieve success is promised without fear of oppression so long as you do not violate the liberty of others. The second you choose to invalidate the freedom of another individual, you invalidate your own right to liberty. Perhaps this is the maxim that people seem so willing to ignore. If a private citizen decides to willingly plot against others in an effort to hurt or kill them or carries forth plans to further this goal, they have forfeited their right to their own person. There is no such thing as a right to harm others. One who harms others has no moral base to justify their actions. This is why the Patriot Act, and all the wire-tapping and torture that it precludes, is fully justifiable by our Constitution.

People disagree not because they find it morally unpalatable to torture a terrorist, they disagree because mob mentality has forced them to feel bad for thinking otherwise. There are few people in America today who are willing to stand on their own moral ground, their reasons for decrying torture and wiretapping is not an argument founded on objective principles, rather it is based in subjective sycophancy.

Ask yourself, what rights does a man who kills innocents have? Does he have a right to his own life once he takes others?

Paean to the Deltoid

Unfortunately, about a week ago Zoidberg injured his rotator cuff at the gym. After struggling for the next couple of days the slow realization that I needed a week off (from lifting) slowly depressed me. Anyway, I severely miss military press so I will take the time to make sure that others will enjoy it properly while I sit by and grow envious of your delicious healthy tendons.

Often, Zoidberg hears and sees men at the gym who complain about stagnation with the bench press. They tell me that they have been benching the same weight forever, and can't seem to bust through to bigger irons no matter what changes to their pec routine or diet they employ. My subsequent question to them is then, "what do you do for shoulders?"


Invariably, the response is something akin to, "well, I usually do a couple sets of military on my arms day." A more morally depraved axiom does not exist in the weight room (save not doing legs and the hip adductor). Ignoring your shoulders, a muscle group that exists as the fulcrum between your chest and arms, is like failing to realize why your muscle car isn't fast when it's got a 427 and big hoosier slicks, but the transmission from a Chrysler.

All poor metaphors aside, shoulders are absolutely crucial to muscular development in your body. Your deltoids are a gigantic muscle group far larger/stronger than your arms, why would you ignore them? Or worse, shovel them in with another muscle group. Without a solid deltoid regimen, you lack the proper heave necessary to succeed in bench. Now, I understand the resistance. Shoulder workouts are often composed of several exercises which are both a pain in the ass, uncomfortable, and easy to cheat/screw-up (raises).

This is Zoidberg's shoulder regimen, it works really well for me. Then again, I am genetically disposed to do two things, military press and lose hair.

Variable Military Press: 3 or 4 sets of 6
Barbell Upright Row: 3 sets of 8
Standing Behind the Neck Press: 3 sets of 6 to 8
Dumbbell Front Raise: 3 sets of 8
Dumbbell Side Raise: 3 sets of 8

BAM! Simple. Efficient. Easy to replicate. Notice one thing that is missing? Shrugs. Seriously, why would any human being waste time with shrugs? Want big traps? Do upright rows. Want to look like a retard? do neck lifts. But spare me doing shrugs.

The first exercise is variable. Recently I have been doing standing barbell military press because it is almost impossible to cheat by leaning back. However, it is good to mix it up and try dumbbells every once in a while. It is absolutely imperative that you bring the bar/weights down to chin level. Going down to where your upper arms are parallel works the tricep far more, and the deltoid far less. Also, that's how girls do it.

Upright rows are a very versatile, they help with a myriad of back exercises, are excellent with that last part of the deadlift, and contrary to popular belief will not give you gigantic traps and turn you into some grotesquerie.

Behind the necks fall into my general rule of "exercises that have the highest possibility of injury often confer the best benefit when done correctly" (Clean and press, stiff-leg deadlift, etc.).

Raises are pretty straightforward. Don't bend your arms at the elbow too much, do them sitting if you find yourself swinging, and don't go for maximum weight here. Let military press be your exercise you barely eke out 5 reps on.

Have a pleasant weekend filled with exertion and booze. Make sure you do it for yourself, not for anyone else.

Not Compressed Thursday Linkfest

Electric Eel Used To Power Xmas Lights Display
-Only in Japan-
courtesy Mainichi Daily News
















Proper Standing Curls Exercise Form
courtesy Ebaumsworld


Glorious Hilarious Webcomics That Aren't Stupid
More Dinosaur Warlock at Nedroid











And Lastly...

The 5 Pimpingest Historical Figures
Thanks from Cracked




























Please be patient with Zoidberg, his talents with formatting require further study.

Weekend Roundup - Booze Review, Ridgemont Reserve 1792

Booze Recipe
-Broman's Boilo (ripoff hot-toddy)-

I am going to kick off the first installation of time to get lit on a Monday because hey, Monday is the new Sunday, which is the new Saturday. This recipe is something I trot out every time it starts to get cold and our kitchen starts to get too clean.

The first time I made this mess I was in my long-time friend's apartment. I can't remember the reason why I decided to obliterate his kitchen with a sticky mess, but I am sure it was a good one. Regardless, this citrus-cider concoction is the cure for what ails you, if what ails you is sobriety or a lack of your daily intake of 9000% Vitamin C. Same old friend claims it cured him of his sickness another time I made it, and it tastes better than children's robitussin so why not give it a whirl.

10 Oranges
5 Lemons
2 Limes
2 Tbsp Cinnamon
1 Tbsp Nutmeg
1/3 Cup Honey
Some cheapo bourbon (Maybe Evan Williams)

Anyway, Juice the fruit and put the peel and pulp from about half the oranges into a large pot. Add in the remaining ingredients while stirring. Let the mixture rise to a boil, then simmer for about an hour. Take care to never add the booze. When you are ready, you can ladle the mixture into the mug, and then add the bourbon. Use whatever ratio your current level of alcoholism dictates.


Booze Review
-1792 Ridgemont Reserve-

To quote,

"1792 Ridgemont Reserve is a distinctively smooth, handcrafted small-batch bourbon, patiently aged 8 years in new charred oak barrels in Bardstown, Kentucky. This 93.7 proof Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey was named for the year Kentucky became a state. Rich and velvety, it's the perfect bourbon for toasting any special occasion - in fact, it's the Official Toasting Bourbon of the Kentucky Bourbon Festival"

Now, I am not going to come off and say that 1792 was bad, because it certainly wasn't. I will however say that it was pretty disappointing. Nestled onto the premium shelf next to such vagabonds as Basil Hayden, Eagle Rare, Bulleit, and Bakers/Bookers (meh), you would expect such a bourbon to be up to the challenge of performance. Instead, I was disappointed by too much bite that was not balanced by any degree of real spice or flavor. Instead, I felt like it was a freshman attempt at a premium bourbon. Now, were this bourbon only 20 bucks I'd say it was a decent buy. But the pretentiousness just oozes off the label and creates the mystique of drinking the nectar of the gods, when you are really just drinking the nectar of Steve.

Final Zoidberg Score:

*Scale is out of 6 tasty full rocks glasses.*


Weekend Pump
-49 Asks More Silly Questions-




Our dear friend from the land of no sales tax comes again with the questions pertaining to the weightlifting:

"I cheat on my back. This was pointed out to me last night on chest/back day. I had been doing wide grip pulldowns for (substantial weight) but my biceps tended to hurt more than my back. Apparently that's a Bad Thing (tm) and a sign of cheating. So
I've gone to narrow grip and scaled way way back on the weight.

But even with that, I think I have a larger problem. Yeah, I was
doing them a lot better, but I was still crushing my biceps and that
caused me to really perform poorly on the remaining chest exercises
for the evening. "

49 then goes on to suggest something ludicrous like separating chest and back so that his biceps are not pre-exhausted to the point where his chest workout suffers.

So wait, you were doing really heavy totally excellent pulldowns but you decided to reduce the weight when you were getting a totally awesome pump that was probably ridiculously effective at building muscle? Then you feared pre-exhausting your biceps and switched to an even more bicep intensive back exercise?

The pump is your friend!

First, biceps will always get fairly exhausted when part of a difficult back regimen, particularly with bicep intensive lifts like narrow grip pulldowns, chin-ups, narrow grip rows, etc. So, it makes sense to put these exercises which will strain your smallest muscle, at the end. However, if you find your biceps/triceps are getting crushed early and you fear your back/chest is getting chamfered by these piddly muscles, the answer is not to rejigger your workout so that you avoid the problem. Your arms are obviously a weak point in your larger muscle apparatus, but the way to meet this problem is to continue the workout you have so that your arms can catch up. Yes, your arms may be limiting your growth in your chest/back, but eventually they will be forced to catch up by the constant overmatching effort you are demanding of them.

It certainly doesn't mean you are cheating. Zoidberg is not quite sure who gave you that idea. It simply means A) your biceps need to play catch up, or B) you started off with too many bicep intensive back lifts in the beginning of your workout. Cheating? no.

Second, are you still seeing gains or have you reached complete plateau? Have you been at roughly the same weight for the past month? If not, then don't worry about it quite yet.

Don't change a thing, keep up the effort and max the envelope.




Miscellaneous Detritus

A few further notes from the weekend that may be of interest:

* Fighting Cock is on sale at the ABC. Don't miss this opportunity for cheap dong. ZINGA!

* If you haven't already eaten at Pike Pizza, do yourself a favor and brave MS13 Columbia Pike just once. Bolivian food is really just an amalgamation of beef, potatoes, and fried eggs, so you really can't go wrong. *Note* English is scarce there.

*How bout them Cowboys?

The Top Five Boozes to Relegate to the Well - With Their Suitable Replacements -

1. Jim Beam
- Replace With -
Fighting Cock

Face the truth my friend, if you drink Beam you probably aren't too terribly interested in flavor. You probably mix this in the coke bottle as you dash to catch the bus to frat parties so you don't show up sober. After all, swill beer tastes best with a bourbon back. So why not spend $2.00 more per 750mL and put some real kick in your face? Fighting Cock is surprisingly palatable, mixes better, and sets you up for all sorts of double entendre when you serve it to the 19 year old Kappa you're trying to de-pants.

2. Makers Mark ? Year
- Replace With -
Eagle Rare 10 year

I grow weary of Makers Mark's reign as the staple bourbon in America's cabinetry. I have a long storied history with Makers Mark, it was the first beverage I ever had a loooong night with and it was the first booze I decided had no place in my bloodstream (unless given to me for free). The taste is average, let's face it. It is bottled in a 100% subjective manner, as it is removed from the barrels when a group of certified "tasters" all agree that it tastes good enough to be sold. Which, I promise you, is whatever date perfectly optimizes the demand for that month with their available product.

A growing crowd uses it to make Manhattans, something which is the death knell of drinking booze for its flavor, like making a rusty nail out of a particular scotch tacitly admits you don't care what scotch you use (J&B works well). Eagle Rare (for the same cost) provides a rich bourbon full of vanilla oaky flavor. It never gets old, works best when served neat, and makes you feel like an American because its got eagles all over it.

3. Jack Daniels
- Replace With -
Rhum Barbancourt or Weller

Jesus H Christ am I sick with our love affair with Jack. It's prevalent, it's the standard mixer bourbon, everyone sounds real hard saying Jack and Diet, and no one seems to notice that Jack Daniels has systematically lowered its proof in the past years by adding more and more water.

Let's cut the shit, people that drink Jack drink it for one of three reasons

I) Brought up to think that anything other than Jack, when mixed with coke, will detonate
II) Thinks that chicks will think he is hard from drinking Jack neat
III) Enjoys Hangovers

For these three people I have three solutions:

I) Drink Rhum Barbancourt, it is magically delicious and let's face it, you weren't drinking Jack and Cokes because you like the taste of bourbon.
II) Drink Weller. Comparable cost and is the Swiss army knife of bourbon. Wont melt face.
III) Drink Absinthe. Much more enjoyable the night of, similar experience the next day.

4. All of your Gin that isn't Seagrams
- Replace with -
Seagrams

Dear me, another sad truth. The day of the gin martini is finished. In its stead march a deadly array of substitutes, all of which profess a distinct lack of gin. Don't get me wrong, I love gin, but it seems like the only drink that steadfastly refuses to yield to choclatini's and Makers Mark Manhattans is the gin 'n tonic.

Sure, there may be some stubborn Churchill-style martini drinkers and a few ambiguous singapore slingers, but the gin aisle has shrank to nothing much more than the original standards. It certainly cannot keep pace with the marketing diarrhea coming from the vodka aisle. So do yourself a favor, don't waste your money on more expensive gins to make your summer standard gin and tonic. You simply cannot notice the difference, quinine is too powerful a taste to allow anything other than a nuclear bomb of flavor (tequila) through.

5. Aftershock
- Replace with -
Axe to face

STOP WHINING!

Zoidberg is a government employee. Unlike a government employee, Zoidberg does enjoy doing his job, and doing it well and in a punctual manner. Like a government employee, Zoidberg absolutely despises working on Friday, and graciously accepts programs that let him skip every other Friday to sit around constructing models of old Soviet jets.

That being said, tonight I will watch my glorious Texasmen bring sheer hatred and righteous fury to Brett Favre and his delicious jaw line. Despite Comcast's best efforts to prevent me from watching the third most important NFL game of the season by not airing it, I am resolved to reconnoiter at a house that does not pipe glorious television straight from Lucifer himself. While watching Flozell Adams commit his 22nd false start of the season, I plan on obtaining the finest of bourbons I have not yet imbibed that do not exceed twenty-five dollars from across the Key Bridge in the rough streets of Northwest DC.

It has come to my recent attention that some of the new viewers of the Bourblogger are upset by the current lack of booze related posts (1 for 2). Someone also made the point that while bourbon and objectiveness go well together, as does fitness and objectiveness, they unfortunately do not obey the transitive property. Apparently, bourbon is an

"Old timey (?) southern drink meant for relaxation. Slower times and easing yourself from the fast pace of life. A sweet beverage enjoyed while in subtle contemplation of life and puppies."

-Some Old Woman

Fie on this! Bourbon is a swirling maelstrom of complexity! A drink that may be considered the titular ruler of all things southern, but below all the maudlin labeling with smoking grandads on the bottle lies the burning desire of wanton pleasure and superiority! Surely such a thing can be directly...nay...SIMULTANEOUSLY enjoyed while clean and pressing large rounds of iron through the ceiling!

The truth of the matter is, creating a feeling of satisfaction is something we must strive for as our most pertinent moral purpose. Whether it is drinking a fine adult beverage that I purchase with my well earned money, or enjoying the repose that follows a superior lift, the feeling is the same. Satisfaction and pleasure. It is the purpose of Zoidberg to make accessible the things of booze and exercise so that our readership, however misguided, can see the outlet of enjoyment and pleasure where previously they had not seen it.

Driving Green Begets False Moral Imperatives

Following my recent banishment from www.traineo.com (see link for poorly channeled John Galt speech : Throw off the shackle ) I have found my outlet for attempting to spread common fitness sense to the masses has been decidedly cut off. Not that you can't continue preaching to those deaf to your ravings, but it lost some of its mystique when every response was met with meager excuses citing genetics, lack of time, strenuous jobs, and terrorists.

I was sitting in my car at a red light the other day, and as I sat in silence (car is turd-shaped hybrid from 03) I noticed that the LCD readout currently read an accurate measurement of zero miles to the gallon. This is wholly correct, since I wasn't moving and the gas-motor was off the fact that I wasn't wasting precious bits of dead dinosaur didn't matter. However, the instant I started moving under electric power I would achieve an infinite fuel economy. In fact, the instant I started moving at any speed I would get an infinite MPG on the simple fact that I would consume no gas. It temporarily amazed me that the connection between zero and the infinite was related by such a small quantity, in this case any speed whatsoever.

This long-winded metaphor is exactly how I would classify an overwhelming majorities pursuit of exercise. People believe that the connection between the zero (never exercising, overweight, etc.) and the infinite (Arnold) can be interrelated with the application of any small quantity. Unfortunately for you, but fortunate for the makers of ellipticals, recumbent bikes, and other useless pieces of equipment...this is not the case.

I made a comment in the traineo diatribe that the biggest reason so many Americans are unable to achieve their fitness goals is their own mental inertia. Their own mental turpitude hinders them so that they try and place accountability in the hands of trainers, gyms, equipment, and fad regimens rather than their own mind. It is easy at first to seek the comfort of placing all responsibility, obligation, and duty in the hands of someone else. It means you gain all the glory if you miraculously achieve, and you losing nothing if you do not succeed.

It is therefore a moral imperative, before your hand touches the erg for the first time or you grasp the olympic bar before learning to squat, that you realize that the source of all your achievement and failure derives from the impetus provided by your own mind. No one else.

Now, so that you don't get too bored, here is a video of a 56 year old woman squatting 540 lbs.

In My Sandbox Hell Has Few Pages

I'll spare the canned introduction. This blog comes at the suggestion from a friend that I obviously drink too much. His suggestion bears some truth, but not in the conventional manner. Thankfully my dipsomania is often justified by continued assertion that I always drink with company, even if these associations arrive via XBOX live.

Welcome to the visitors, come see the verbiage that is the literary manifestation of my hair loss.

Knob Creek Line, Zoidberg Answers

The first post that pretends to have content and casts aspersions on the world comes from my dear friend C.R. Fortynine. Fortynine phrased his question as such:

Might as well pass along the pressing question of the day: Woodford v. Baker v. Bookers v. Basil Hayden. To me, these are all the solid second tier bourbons but Basil is a clear winner. That's likely because I like mine smooth and soft. I could see a convincing argument being made for a meatier, more acerbic bourbon like one of the others. Do you care to make that argument?

I also like mine smooth and soft rather than rock hard and turgid. I agree with the choice of Basil Hayden completely. The Knob Creek line is a bell curve of enjoyment for me, with basil at the center and knob --- baker/booker at either end. Knob creek seems unrefined and brutish to me and I feel like the goal for Bakers/Bookers was just to see if they could make something 140 proof palatable. They can if drinking 140 proof bourbon was my modus operandi, but if I want to get faced and not feel it going down I'll just have 14 tequila sours.

With that in mind, Basil is the clear winner for reasons you just mentioned. It is smooth and woodsy without any hint of harshness, both in the initial flavor and in aftertaste. Now, BB is pretty good for the salient fact that it conceals the truth that it is torpedo fuel and it only burns initially, but it just isn't my bag. People that say they like it and you are too much of a pussy to handle it generally have tiny cocks. If I want to set my face ablaze with high octane booze, I won't stop because it burns. But this is bourbon, a sipping delight that says you like life a little sweeter than the surly scotch drinker. You don't mind taking more than 14 seconds to drink your drink, and when you want to get faced...you'll stop drinking bourbon rather than trying to combine the two elements.

I'll tell you something I found the other day at the ABC that surprised me, Sam Houston 12 (or 10?) year. Smooth tasting, yet big and expansive, just like the great state of Texas from which this drink derives its namesake. It wasn't expensive either. That also happens to be my problem with BB, $45-55. What the shit? It simply is not that good. When I buy BB I feel like I am buying Johnny Walker Black or Gold. Most of my money pays for marketing, the name, and that stupid wooden box it comes in. Who gives 2 shits about what the presentation of the bottle is? The Rip Van Winkle 23 year I recently acquired was nothing more than glass, a label, and fake velvet. Why? because what is inside is what counts unless you are a vodka distributor selling to 17 year olds that like the shiny stainless steel on their bottles.

















Mmmmmmmm. Tastes like socialism.