Andrew y Gaetano

How to Fight on Ice: Part II

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 10:16:00 -0400

Let’s review the ediquette steps from Part I:

Challenge your oponent to a duel of bare knuckled brawling.
Drop your stick and gloves and place them neatly in an non hazardous area.
Remove your helmet (optional)
Say something menacing like, “I’m going to bleed all over you.”

Now that you’re standing face to face with the enemy with naked fists burning with rage, you’re going to need a few pointers for the actually fighting. Because you’re on ice.

Unlike boxing, friction is not on your side when grounding your feet as you throw a punch, which is why grappling is key to gaining leverage with your blows and not getting your face mashed.

First, you want to gain a good hold of your opponent with your weaker punching hand. The best place to grab is the sleeve of his punching arm above the elbow. (Which arm is his strong arm? Look at the curve of his stick. Better yet, just assume that he’s right handed. How many southpaws do you know?) This grip will allow you to distance your head from his reach as well as prevent him from cocking back his hand for the haymaker. Again, gaining this hold should be PARAMOUNT. Never ever ever open your fight with a roundhouse or haymaker without grabbing your opponent first or you will end up like this chump.

(There is a technique for a quick knock out, but chances are you suck at standing on skates anyway so I’m not even going to tell you because I don’t want you to sprain a vagina or anything.)

Now that you’ve got a good grip on your combatant’s sweater you can start raining down fists with your free hand. When you get tired, pull your opponent close to you like you have a secret to tell, keeping your free hand between your bodies. As the refs try to break you two apart, throw an uppercut with the free hand. KO.

What this demonstration of captain Jarome Iginla sticking his neck out for his teammates. One of the best showing you how it’s done.

Keepin' it Real (Real Southern)

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 11:26:00 -0400

The streetz of DC may be hard, but we are still an hour south of the Mason-Dixon Line. One may be cautious, but must never forget his manners. One must be a gentleman. A Southern Gentleman.

The Colonel is a prime example. He’s got it all; style, Southern belles, and a legendary chicken seasoning. In order to be a Southern Gentleman, one must first and foremost dress as a Southern Gentleman. Appearances trump behavior because it’s what’s on the outside that counts and I judge books by their cover. The following steps are necessary:

Your shoes must be made of leather. Leave your Converse’s at the skate park and get a job you smelly punk.
You will own seersucker. Lots of it. In multiple colors. However, you can only wear it between Easter Weekend and Labor Day.
Speaking of Easter, you will look like a giant Easter egg. Your shirts and pants should cover every pastel in the rainbow. If you not comfortable enough with your sexuality to wear a bright pink shirt, it’s probably because you are a little gay on the inside and are ashamed of it.
Absolutely no cargo pockets. You are not in 7th grade. You are not on an African safari. You do not have lots of cargo.
Your hat will be made of straw. It will be large enough to block the hot, hot Southern sun. Baseball caps are acceptable as long as they don’t represent an actual sports franchise, and instead represent your favorite preppy animal (pony or croc).

Appearances are only 4/5’s of the battle. If you want to land a Georgia Peach who rocks sundresses and pearls, you are going to need to act like a Southern Gentleman:

You will hold the door for all females. Unless they are 200lbs.
You will hold the door for men to show your dominance over them. If one man insists you go first, consider this an act of disrespect. A holdout will ensue, with the weaker man eventually walking through the door first.
You will drink Bourbon Whiskey. Not Scotch, not Irish, and definitely not Canadien whiskey. You will drink it neat, straight up, or on the rocks. With lower tier bourbons, it is acceptable to mix bourbon with Coke (NOT PEPSI YOU PEASANT) because Coke is from Georgia.
If you prefer beer, you will drink only Budweiser. Don’t get me started again.
You will denounce the heathens of the northeast and the west coast.
You will wave flags.
You will embrace the right to bear arms and carry a revolver. A gun will come in handy for any duels that may arise due to challenges regarding your manhood (such as the aforementioned door standout).

If you follow these steps, you most likely won’t even need body armor in DC. The testosterone and dominance you exude will be enough to stop bullets in their tracks while simultaneously winning over every Sweet Potato Queen in a plantation sized radius.

"An armed society is a polite society. Manners are good when one may have to back up his acts with..."

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 09:09:03 -0400

“An armed society is a polite society. Manners are good when one may have to back up his acts with his life.”

- Robert A. Heinlein

Street Tough: Surviving the Streetz of D.C. in Style

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 18:56:00 -0400

Don’t know if you heard the news, but your very own Supreme Court of the United States has legalized handgun sales and possession in the District of Columbia and we’ve been shooting off our pistolas in celebration ever since. Given the already high crime rate and D.C.’s long history of violence, this district just became the tough capital of the free world. However, it’s not always cool to show up to work or the bar with a hole in your sternum. So here are a few bulletproof threads that are cool alternatives to the 50cent SWAT look:

First off, Black Armor’s Covert Denim Jacket ($800) combines rugged Marlboro-Man style with full front, back, and side ballistic protection. It’s the perfect choice for the casual Friday bullet dodger. Next, Australia’s Duram Products has a natty, Belstaff-looking all weather jacket that can stop the rain as easily as it stops rounds from an AK-47. In a similar vein, Spycatcher of Knightsbridge offers their Weatherproof Disguised Bullet/Stab-Proof Jacket ($1,779), a sharp number that will strike just the right note as you stand over the corpses of your would-be assassins.

If you’re looking for an accessory that will truly save your hide, pick up Zahal’s Bullet Proof Briefcase ($490), a thick shield disguised as a mere laptop case. Countermeasures beat computers any day. We don’t like to think about it, but kids can catch a bullet as easily as anyone else. Thank goodness for Bullet Blocker’s My Child’s Pack ($175). Now little Georgie can walk home from school without fear.

For a more hip-hop look, you can always turn to the Defender Hoodie by Britan’s Bladerunner ($865). The other skate rats won’t mess with you when you put on one of these. Then again, you might want to go for the aristocratic rancher look. If so, Miguel Cabellero will have a lead-proof parka, riding jacket, or duster perfect for you.

Usually weddings are a time for celebration. But with every celebration, there’s a chance of things getting out of hand. Next time, wear USA Body Armor’s formal EnGarde Executive Vest ($865). Which would you rather be, Best Man or Last Man Standing? Spycatchers of Knightsbridge and Security Pro also offer executive waistcoats for the human target on the go.

Unfortunately, New Era has yet to release a bulletproof baseball cap. But let’s face it, if you have a fear getting shot in the head you should probably just move to San Francisco.

Who would win in a fight: Lucy Liu as Oren Ishi or Angelina as...

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 17:23:16 -0400

Who would win in a fight: Lucy Liu as Oren Ishi or Angelina as that chick who can curve bullets? Who gives a shit Machine Girl is here.

NEVER GIVE UP.

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 13:38:29 -0400

NEVER GIVE UP.

Tough Guy Competition

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 21:40:00 -0400

Tough Guy claims to be the world’s most demanding one day survival ordeal (second only to staring directly into Clint Eastwood’s eyes)

The original is organised in England by former British Army Officer Billy Wilson (Mr Mouse), who claims nobody has ever finished all the course according to his extremely demanding rules. Taking place at the end of January, Tough Guy consists of an eight country mile run including an assault course. Running the course involves risking barbed wire, cuts, scrapes, burns, hypothermia, acrophobia, claustrophobia, sprains, twists, joint dislocation and broken bones. Before running the course you must sign a “death warrant”, this states that you accept the risks and run the course of your own choice and can not claim in the case of injury.

At various points on the course and throughout the day, competitors are encouraged to shout “Yohimbe!”. The organiser, Mr Mouse, claimed in a 2007 newsletter that this is a Zulu battle cry meaning “My dick’s bigger than yours”, originating from the use of the bark of the Yohimbe tree as an erectile stimulant.

I will be sure to refer to the training guide at the Tough Guy Website while honing my toughnitude in my own dojo: Disipline 9: Fire of Hell

"Spike Lee should shut his face."

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 13:29:36 -0400

“Spike Lee should shut his face.”

- Clint Eastwood

One Coffee. Black. Like My Heart.

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 10:51:00 -0400

“Pumpkin Spice Latte.” “White Chocolate Mocha.” “Mint Mocha Chip Frappuccino blended coffee with Chocolate Whipped Cream.”

What the fuck is up with the coffee industry? WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH MEN WHO ORDER THIS BULLSHIT?! You might as well order a coffee, with a side order of circle jerks. It was bad enough when men started putting “sweetener” and “cream” in their coffee, but “pumpkin spice?” “Chocolate Whipped Cream?” By the end of the decade, I won’t be surprised if coffee is served with potpourri and a free Coldplay CD.

I like my coffee like I like my women: black, strong, and chock full of stimulants. I can’t really imagine putting anything in my coffee, except maybe motor oil, scrap metal, or saw dust.

Attempt the following analogy:

Clint Eastwood is to Cigarillo

as

Corporate Male is to _______

a) Gay Butt Sex

b) Mochachino

c) BLACK COFFEE.

The correct and is “C,” BLACK COFFEE. When Clint Eastwood was pissed, he took a long, hard drag from one of the world’s worst tasting cigarillos, resulting in a grimace that could make an entire army crap their pants in unison.

When somebody at work gets on my ass, I pull a modern day Clint; I take a piping hot 12oz cup of dark Colombian pure, pound it like a shot, and give my enemy the stare of a lifetime. Now if I did this with a Vanilla Orange Spiced Low Fat Artificial Creamer Latte, I’d probably be demoted to secretary and told to go buy the office some muffins. But with my man caliber coffee, my enemy either retreats, defecates, or gives me a promotion on the grounds for being too badass.

There are three key areas a man should focus on when brewing a cup of joe.

Bitterness: The coffee will have no traces of sweetness. On a bitterness scale, it should be close to dandelions.
Consistency: Sludge is key. I’d suggest actually just melting the coffee grounds so you actually are drinking a coffee bean goo as opposed to actual coffee.
Color: Black. Black as night.

As a guide, your coffee should look somewhat like this if you were to spill it (on wildlife):

How to Shave with a Straight Razor

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 21:19:05 -0400

There is nothing more masculine than shaving with an open blade that can lop your head right off. I myself trim the whiskers with nothing less than a 10 inch katana blade. For those men of men looking for a badass way to keep that adam’s apple ungrizzled, follow these steps for shaving with an open straight razor:

Step 1: Lather.

What the fuck is lather? I like my shave how I like my Clint Eastwood quotes: dry and to the point. If you use cream, shut your face.

Step 2: The Straight Razor Shave.

Hold the razor securely by placing the pads of your index and second fingers on the shank, your thumb under the shank and against the shoulder, the handle raised vertically between your middle and ring fingers, and your ring and pinky fingers resting inside the crescent-shaped tang.

Using the fingers of your free hand, stretch the skin until it is as taut as possible. Hold the razor at a 30 degree angle to the surface of your skin and shave your first even stroke in the direction of hair growth. The “angle of the dangle” is your key to error-free shaving. Fewer than 30 degrees and you’ll rip the hair out by its root. More than 30 degrees and you’ll very likely slice yourself to ribbons. The only areas for which this rule doesn’t apply are the chin and upper lip. For these two trouble spots only, angle the back of the blade a little closer to your skin and proceed with caution.

Step 3: Squint into mirror.

Thanks to James Whittal, President of MensEssentials and author of “Miter Saws Are for Pussies”

Photo

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 14:28:13 -0400

The King.

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 15:55:00 -0400

Every time I crack open an ice cold Budweiser, my American heart beats one extra for Uncle Sam. When I try to brainstorm the most American companies, some cliches come to mind, like Coca Cola, McDonalds, and Nike. While these corporations are more recognized around the world, no company beats out Anheuser-Busch in patriotism.

The company’s story is the definition of the American Dream. A German immigrant with 21 brothers and sisters, Adolphus Busch loved two things: America and Beer. A Civil War vet, he and Eberhard Anheuser, worked hard to turn around a small, struggling brewery into the brewing giant Anheuser-Busch. While those in St. Louis enjoyed Budweiser, Busch dreamed of a national beer. Guided by American ingenuity, capitalism, and patriotism, he created rail-side ice houses, refrigerated railcars, and the pasteurization process in order to ensure everyone nation-wide could taste the American Dream right from a bottle.

Anheuser-Busch continues a tradition of American excellence. They account for 49% of all beer sales stateside. It is the fourth largest brewery in the world, yet it manages to do so by generating only 7% of its revenue outside our borders. Let me stress the importance of this stat. The three largest breweries (InBev, SABMiller, and Heineken) are global hodge-podges that buy up brands from all over the world, losing any sense of national identity. They are only bigger than Anheuser Busch because their products are sold on a more global basis, but AB keeps it real and generates 93% of sales in the US of A.

Well what about other American brewers you say? Miller is actually SABMiller, (South African Breweries). South Africa? I thought the only thing they were good at was being really, really racist, so what the hell does that have to do with beer? And Coors? Well Coors may merge with Miller in the hopes of combatting The King, so they are now the enemy as well.

And now InBev (Germans), the number one brewer in the world, wants to purchase this piece of American pie. Offering a 56 billion dollar buyout, Americans are wondering if one of the last true American logos will just become a cog in an empire that owns 200 other beer brands. Well I recall Adolphus leaving Germany, fighting for America, and dreaming of getting every Joe USA so drunk he shits himself.

Patriots, speak up against InBev and tell them to keep the German hands where they fucking belong: in Germany (or in scat porn videos).

www.savebudweiser.com

A Giant Among Men

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 08:49:00 -0400

Andre the Giant: Professional wrestler, talented athlete, legendary alcoholic (and apparently mad-hetero pimp from the pic below).

If I could get drunk with any man from the history books, it would be Andre (as long as I didn’t have to pick up the tab). Throughout the internets, numerous stories exist describing his insatiable appetite for the sauce.

Let’s start with the basics. He consumed approximately 7,000 calories a day, purely from alcohol. That’s 46 regular beers a day, assuming he drank only beer, which is far from the case. Holy.Fuck. I once drank 35 beers in a night, woke up on some steps, barfed in the street in front of a bus stop, then shit my pants. Yet The Giant still has 16 more beers on me on a night of “casual drinking.”

So now let’s get fucking serious. I dare ANYONE to find drinking stories (relating to amount) more epic that what I present below:

Due to his size, he traveled in a personal trailer that was lined with tarps and filled with beer and ice. On the road, he averaged a case of beer every 90 minutes (1 beer every 3.75 minutes)
Believe it or not, WWF rookie Hulk Hogan served as his beer bitch on the road. Whenever the bus ran low on beer, Andre bitched the Hulk into sprinting to the nearest store to return with more nectar. He further demeaned Hogan by throwing EVERY empty can at the back of his head.
Andre claimed to need 2 liters of vodka, “just to feel warm on the inside.” That’s 44 shots of hard liquor.
El Gigante was given a case of plum wine for performing in Japan. He drank it in four hours. That’s 16 bottles of wine, which comes to 64 glasses of wine, one every 3.75 minutes (again).
Saddened by public transportation’s inability to house his masculine frame (and drunk after 75 beers), Andre hijacked a horse and carriage and stormed the streets of New York to get home from bars.
While drinking with two other wrestlers, one jokingly hit ‘Dre in the face. Andre took offense, asked no questions, and dragged the two 250lb men out of the bar and into the ocean, holding their faces in the water while laughing in a drunken rage.
Andre’s month long bar-tab at a London hotel was $40,000.
At last call, Giant Andre told the bartender he “did not care to leave.” The fearful bartender said he could stay, as long as he kept drinking (believing he would eventually have to stop). Andre stayed until 5am, drinking 40 vodka tonics.

Throughout all these antics, he rarely passed out. The smallest feat listed so far (a case in 90 minutes) would make the average person wake up in a pool of vomit, and make some people just never wake up at all. Andre did get drunk enough to pass out (ending up in the hallway of his hotel), after consuming a world record 119 beers in 6 hours, a beer every 3.02 minutes.

Andre was truly a giant among men. He gives the rest of us something to shoot for, putting purpose in our otherwise meaningless lives. I’ll be downing one for the Giant tonight. Thanks for the inspiration, Andre.

Coming of Age Tough.

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 10:07:35 -0400

Coming of Age Tough.

"You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and..."

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 23:14:02 -0400

“You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig.”

- Clint Eastwood; The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Hybrids

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 10:32:00 -0400

Ah, the Hybrid…vehicle of choice in San Fran, Europe, and GAYSVILLE. Hybrids are seriously not cool. Stop listening to chic Hollywood assholes like George Clooney. Have you seen what kind of car George Clooney drives? A TANGO. Don’t know what a Tango is? Look at this piece of shit:

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA. HAHAHAHAHAH. Oh man. I can fit both the profile and front view on one line. This car is truly a slap in the face to heterosexuality. Let’s be honest, this is really just a step up from that stupid car Fred Flintstone drove (except this one runs you over 100 grand). This thing fits one person and has trunk space for maybe three to four dildos (granted, the drivers of these cars are probably carrying BIG dildos).

Do you know what I drive? A thoroughbred American Jeep Grand Cherokee. I could probably fit five of these “Tangos” in my trunk. Imagine if my Jeep slammed head on into George Clooney’s Tango at 70mph (although Tangos probably have a top speed of 13-14 mph). I predict I would emerge from the crash unscathed while George Clooney would look something like this:

Which brings me to my next point: Men should only drive certain types of cars. SUVs (preferably American, but the Brits make some fine models. RAV4’s are NOT acceptable), Pickups, luxury sedans, or sports cars. SUVs and Pickups obviously rank supreme in manliness. What’s manlier than:

An 80 dollar tank of gas
Blowing through that 80 dollar tank of gas in one week
Driving 2ft higher than other drivers
Having cargo space to carry a small army

I really can’t think of an answer, but Clint Eastwood may come close. I know what’s NOT the answer: HYBRIDS, you smelly hippies.

"Alright, I’m coming out. Any man I see out there, I’m gonna shoot him. Any sumbitch..."

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 00:34:44 -0400

“Alright, I’m coming out. Any man I see out there, I’m gonna shoot him. Any sumbitch takes a shot at me, I’m not only gonna kill him, but I’m gonna kill his wife, all his friends, and burn his damn house down.”

- Clint Eastwood, Unforgiven

Street Tough: How to Survive on the Streetz

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 14:39:36 -0400

The streets can be a rough place. Here’s some pointers on how to defend yourself during the common mugging or beatdown.

The name of the game in street defence is distance. Your main priority when invloved in a street confrontation is to avoid your attacker’s reach as much as possible. Obviously, the easiest way to do this is to run. However, if you’re not Tony Jaa, you may need to fight back. Again, you want to maximize the distance between you and your combatant as much as possible to avoid injury. In close hand-to-hand combat this can be achieved with any hard object on your person or in your immediate area: cell phone, ballpoint pen, bottle, or anything else that might extend your reach a few inches beyond that of your assailant. When you strike, aim for soft spots on and around the face (eyes, nose, neck). While he’s writhing on the ground in pain, say something like, “I NEVER LOOSE!”

Ennio Morricone has made the most badass soundtracks in the...

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 21:34:00 -0400

Ennio Morricone has made the most badass soundtracks in the history of film. When God heard Ecstasy of Gold from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, he got a raging erection the size of 5 schoolbuses. Then Metallica covered the song, punched out God, and took his throne.

Warning: This song is not for pussies.

How to Fight. On Ice. Part I.

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 16:35:00 -0400

Probably one of the toughest things I’ve ever done is one punching the goaltender of the Rochester Americans and hearing my own mother scold me above the jeers of drunken upstate New Yorkers.

So wheather you find yourself going toe to toe with Georges Laraque or taking exception to the deuschebag at public skate who thinks he’s a hockey player, I’m going to pass down the great wisdom of how to win a hockey fight as was bestowed upon me by one of the greatest fighters in the game, Nelson Burton.

Part I: Hockey Fight Etiquette

Before you drop the gloves there are a few tips and unspoken rules when squaring off.

Preparation: If you have a premeditated vendetta to settle and you know that you’re going to fight one of your openents, it doesn’t hurt to do a lil primping. First, secure the fighting strap on your jersey to your belt before the game or inbetween periods. It’s there for a reason. You don’t want to be one of those chumps who gets pummeled with his own shirt over his head. Second, spread vaseline on your face. It’s much easier to take a punch if knuckles glance off your greesy cheeks. Third, do NOT tape your fingers. This is very illegal and if you get caught you may be sitting out for much more than 5 minutes.

Dropping the gloves: Believe it or not there are rituals to going ape shit on ice. Before the punching begins, it’s always polite to ask, “Do you wanna go?” Sometimes when you’re lost for words, a lil’ tap on the back of the legs with your stick will get the same message across. When you drop your gloves and stick, make sure they end up someplace where you won’t trip over them. If you’re wearing a facemask, take your helmet off. Otherwise, you’ll look like a football player getting slapped around and that’s probably the most untough thing on earth. Also, right before you engage in combat, say something sporting and witty, like, “Pft. Good Luck.” Option: For tough guys feeling real tough, take you helmet off, place it on the ice, and spin it like a top. Then quickly knock the other guy senseless. As your getting escorted off the ice point to your helmet, which should still be spinning.

Nelson Burton holds records for most penalty minutes in a season in AHL and EHL. He played 8 games with the Washington Capitals in the NHL and earned 21 PIMS in those games. Legend has it that in his last fight he severely wounded a man when he punched though his oponent’s visor. Another reason why you should take your helmet off.