Some Mental Conditioning for you guys who question yourselves:

[Shoalin]

Manliness in danger of extinction

By Zach Parks

I pump iron, because iron-pumping is manly.

I returned to Oxford after a long winter break to find that my gym had been taken over by idiots. Every January these collar-popping pansies pollute my gym in hopes of gaining last-minute beach muscle in time for spring break. Then, by March they're gone. This futile attempt to reverse a semester of binge drinking is turning my palace of testosterone into a combination of TRL and the Mickey Mouse Club, this annual phenomenon also illustrates the general lack of manliness in today's society. Kids these days lack the sufficient couth, persistence and sportsmanship to maintain a grueling, manly year-round workout. These girly-men need to get the hell out of my gym.

I miss days of our grandfathers, back when men were real men.

Back then the game of dodgeball was played with rocks and the game of dodgerock was played with knives. I miss the days when everyone was a badass.

Somehow between then and now fate decided to take a steaming hot dump all over Darwin's grave as a generation of salty war veterans gave way to a generation of scarf-wearing vaginas.

It hurts me to think that for years society stands idly painting its fingernails while icons like Clint Eastwood are replaced by wieners like Ryan Seacrest. If these generations of manly men were still alive they would spit tobacco juice in Ryan Seacrest's face and then make him wash and wax their Trans Am.

Back in the good old days things were much simpler. Back then you could walk into a caf and not be totally confused. This is because back then it didn't matter if you were trying to order, cappuccino, mocha latte or espresso they were all called the same thing, scotch.

Back then four out of five doctors recommended smoking. This isn't because of doctor's ignorance to the dangers of smoking. This is because lungs used to be much more manly. Lungs used to be a manly shade of black instead of a girly shade of pink. But these days our lungs have devolved into an advanced state of weenie-ism making us incapable of enjoying rich tobacco goodness.

When manly men aren't eating pieces of shit like you for breakfast they're eating sausage wrapped in bacon, wrapped in more bacon and topped with a fried egg, and they wash it down with a glass of bacon grease, topped off with a doctor recommended cigarette.

Look at any grumpy old man and the first thing you'll notice is that he smells like a medium-sized pile of garbage that is sitting on top of a large-sized pile of garbage. This is because of years and years of stink that has built up from a combination of bare-knuckle boxing and bare-knuckle lumberjacking.

Wimps, weenies and vegetarians are ruining our great nation. America is on a downward spiral, we've got a fever and the only prescription is scotch, red meat and lumberjacks.


original:
http://www.mustudent.muohio.ed...

Impressive thread. It's just a shame about your following trolls.

 

[Sinister]

Eh, someone's always gotta be crying.

 

[Ghøst]

There is conditioning, and there is this crime called assault. :icon_twis

it's battery actually. Assault implies you didn't hit anybody.

 

[fucyup]

dirt is and jello is manly

 

[mschatz]

Manliness in danger of extinction

By Zach Parks

I pump iron, because iron-pumping is manly.

I returned to Oxford after a long winter break to find that my gym had been taken over by idiots. Every January these collar-popping pansies pollute my gym in hopes of gaining last-minute beach muscle in time for spring break. Then, by March they're gone. This futile attempt to reverse a semester of binge drinking is turning my palace of testosterone into a combination of TRL and the Mickey Mouse Club, this annual phenomenon also illustrates the general lack of manliness in today's society. Kids these days lack the sufficient couth, persistence and sportsmanship to maintain a grueling, manly year-round workout. These girly-men need to get the hell out of my gym.

I miss days of our grandfathers, back when men were real men.

Back then the game of dodgeball was played with rocks and the game of dodgerock was played with knives. I miss the days when everyone was a badass.

Somehow between then and now fate decided to take a steaming hot dump all over Darwin's grave as a generation of salty war veterans gave way to a generation of scarf-wearing vaginas.

It hurts me to think that for years society stands idly painting its fingernails while icons like Clint Eastwood are replaced by wieners like Ryan Seacrest. If these generations of manly men were still alive they would spit tobacco juice in Ryan Seacrest's face and then make him wash and wax their Trans Am.

Back in the good old days things were much simpler. Back then you could walk into a caf and not be totally confused. This is because back then it didn't matter if you were trying to order, cappuccino, mocha latte or espresso they were all called the same thing, scotch.

Back then four out of five doctors recommended smoking. This isn't because of doctor's ignorance to the dangers of smoking. This is because lungs used to be much more manly. Lungs used to be a manly shade of black instead of a girly shade of pink. But these days our lungs have devolved into an advanced state of weenie-ism making us incapable of enjoying rich tobacco goodness.

When manly men aren't eating pieces of shit like you for breakfast they're eating sausage wrapped in bacon, wrapped in more bacon and topped with a fried egg, and they wash it down with a glass of bacon grease, topped off with a doctor recommended cigarette.

Look at any grumpy old man and the first thing you'll notice is that he smells like a medium-sized pile of garbage that is sitting on top of a large-sized pile of garbage. This is because of years and years of stink that has built up from a combination of bare-knuckle boxing and bare-knuckle lumberjacking.

Wimps, weenies and vegetarians are ruining our great nation. America is on a downward spiral, we've got a fever and the only prescription is scotch, red meat and lumberjacks.


original:
http://www.mustudent.muohio.ed...

Great post. i forwarded this to a bunch of people

 

[Dan671]

Is not getting out of the shower to take a piss manly?

 

[UgglyKnux]

Reading this just made my day, now I'm gonna go light up a backwoods cigar and clean my glock before I pump some iron and beat the hell out of a punching bag.
When I'm finished I'm gonna fuck my girl doggystyle until she screams, then watch the marathon of COPS that's on almost everday on FX.

 

[betet]

hey king bring it to the octogen

 

[magnum125]

manly:
can beat the shit out people a hell of alot bigger than me
my dream is to own a house in which i can shoot out my back door and not get biched at by my neighbors
refuse to shave more than once a month
pee in the shower
member of the nra

metro:
don't drink
shower every day
have soft hair
am afraid of bugs

 

[Senshi]

Now get tough, shut the fuck up, and train...bitches.

i need more training partners with this mentality

 

[Big Grizzle]

Excellent post.

I have forwarded it to a few people who need to cut that scarf wearing shit out and start acting like men.

 

[sakuraba97]

being too masculine can be one's downfall. so can being to feminine. all in all, moderation is the best. i'm not saying go trans, just watch your pride.

 

[heliogracie215]

... yeah wenispinkle is a pretty bad choice for a name bro

 

[superc0ntra]

Hell yeah!

 

[Shawn Hawk]

As the medevac chopper landed the wounded were examined one by one. Staff Sergeant Benavidez could only hear what was going on around him. He had over thirty seven puncture wounds. His intestines were exposed. He could not see as his eyes were caked in blood and unable to open. Neither could he speak, his jaw broken, clubbed by a North Vietnamese rifle. But he knew what was happening, and it was the scariest moment of his life, even more so than the earlier events of the day. He lay in a body bag, bathed in his own blood. Jerry Cottingham, a friend screamed "That's Benavidez. Get a doc". When the doctor arrived he placed his hand on Roy's chest to feel for a heartbeat. He pronounced him dead. The physician shook his head. "There's nothing I can do for him." As the doctor bent over to zip up the body bag. Benavidez did the only thing he could think of to let the doctor know that he was alive. He spit in the doctor's face. The surprised doctor reversed Roy's condition from dead to "He won't make it, but we'll try".

The 32-year-old son of a Texas sharecropper had just performed for six hours one of the most remarkable feats of the Vietnam War. Benavidez, part Yaqui Indian and part Mexican, was a seventh-grade dropout and an orphan who grew up taunted by the term "dumb Mexican." But, as Ronald Reagan noted, if the story of what he accomplished was made into a movie, no one would believe it really happened.

Roy Benavidez's ordeal began at Loc Ninh, a Green Beret outpost near the Cambodian border. It was 1:30 p.m., May 2, 1968. A chaplain was holding a prayer service around a jeep for the sergeant and several other soldiers. Suddenly, shouts rang out from a nearby short-wave radio. "Get us out of here!" someone screamed. "For God's sake, get us out!"

A 12-man team consisting of Sergeant First Class Leroy Wright, Staff Sergeant Lloyd "Frenchie" Mousseau, Specialist Four Brian O'Connor and nine Nung tribesmen monitoring enemy troop movements in the jungle had found itself surrounded by a North Vietnamese army battalion. With out orders, Benavidez volunteered so quickly that he didn't even bring his M-16 when he dashed for the helicopter preparing for a rescue attempt. The sole weapon he carried was a bowie knife on his belt."I'm coming with you," he told the three crew members.

Airborne, they spotted the soldiers in a tight circle. A few hundred enemy troops surrounded them in the jungle, some within 25 yards of the Americans' position. The chopper dropped low, ran into withering fire and quickly retreated. Spotting a small clearing 75 yards away, Benavidez told the pilot, "Over there, over there."

The helicopter reached the clearing and hovered 10 feet off the ground. Benavidez made the sign of the cross, jumped out carrying a medic bag and began running the 75 yards towards the trapped men. Almost immediately, Benavidez was hit by an AK-47 slug in his right leg. He stumbled and fell, but got back up convincing himself that he'd only snagged a thorn bush and kept running to the brush pile where Wright's men lay. An exploding hand grenade knocked him down and ripped his face with shrapnel. He shouted prayers, got up again and staggered to the men.

Four of the soldiers were dead, the other eight wounded and pinned down in two groups. Benavidez bound their wounds, injected morphine and, ignoring NVA bullets and grenades, passed around ammunition that he had taken from several bodies and armed himself with an AK. Then Benavidez directed air strikes and called for the Huey helicopter to a landing near one group. While calling in support he was shot again in the right thigh, his second gunshot wound. He dragged the dead and wounded aboard. The chopper lifted a few feet off the ground and moved toward the second group, with Benavidez running beneath it, firing a rifle he had picked up. He spotted the body of the team leader Sergeant First Class Wright. Ordering the other soldiers to crawl toward the chopper, he retrieved a pouch dangling from the dead man's neck; in the pouch were classified papers with radio codes and call signs. As he shoved the papers into his shirt, a bullet struck his stomach and a grenade shattered his back. The helicopter, barely off the ground, suddenly crashed, its pilot shot dead.

Coughing blood, Benavidez made his way to the Huey and pulled the wounded from the wreckage, forming a small perimeter. As he passed out ammunition taken from the dead, the air support he had earlier radioed for arrived. Jets and helicopter gunships strafed threatening enemy soldiers while Benavidez tended the wounded. "Are you hurt bad, Sarge?" one soldier asked. "Hell, no," said Benavidez, about to collapse from blood loss. "I've been hit so many times I don't give a damn no more."

While mortar shells burst everywhere, Benavidez called in Phantoms "danger close". Enemy fire raked the perimeter. Several of the wounded were hit again, including Benavidez. By this time he had blood streaming down his face, blinding him. Still he called in air strikes, adjusting their targets by sound. Several times, pilots thought he was dead, but then his voice would come back on the radio, calling for closer strikes. Throughout the fighting, Benavidez, a devout Catholic, made the sign of the cross so many times, his arms were "were going like an airplane prop". But he never gave into fear.

Finally, a helicopter landed. "Pray and move out," Benavidez told the men as he helped each one aboard. As he carried a seriously wounded Frenchie Mousseau over his shoulder a fallen NVA soldier stood up, swung his rifle and clubbed Benavidez in the head. Benavidez fell, rolled over and got up just as the soldier lunged forward with his bayonet. Benavidez grabbed it, slashing his right hand, and pulled his attacker toward him. With his left hand, he drew his own bowie knife and stabbed the NVA but not before the bayonet poked completely through his left forearm. As Benavidez dragged Mousseau to the chopper, he saw two more NVA materialize out of the jungle. He snatched a fallen AK-47 rifle and shot both. Benavidez made one more trip to the clearing and came back with a Vietnamese interpreter. Only then did the sergeant let the others pull him aboard the helicopter.

Blood dripped from the door as the chopper lumbered into the air. Benavidez was holding in his intestines with his hand. Bleeding almost into unconsciousness, Benavidez lay against the badly wounded Mousseau and held his hand. Just before they landed at the Medevac hospital, "I felt his fingers dig into my palm," Benavidez recalled, "his arm twitching and jumping as if electric current was pouring through his body into mine" At Loc Ninh, Benavidez was so immobile they placed him with the dead. Even after he spit in the doctor's face and was taken from the body bag, Benavidez was considered a goner.

Benavidez spent almost a year in hospitals to recover from his injuries. He had seven major gunshot wounds, twenty-eight shrapnel holes and both arms had been slashed by a bayonet. Benavidez had shrapnel in his head, scalp, shoulder, buttocks, feet, and legs. His right lung was destroyed. He had injuries to his mouth and back of his head from being clubbed with a rifle butt. One of the AK-47 bullets had entered his back exiting just beneath his heart. He had won the battle and lived. When told his one man battle was awesome and extraordinary, Benavidez replied: "No, that's duty."

Wright and Mousseau were each awarded the Distinguish Service Cross posthumously. Although Master Sergeant Benavidez's commander felt that he deserved the Congressional Medal of Honor for his valor in saving eight lives, he put Roy in for the Distinguished Service Cross. The process for awarding a Medal of Honor would have taken much longer, and he was sure Benavidez would die before he got it. The recommendation for the Distinguish Service Cross was rushed through approval channels and Master Sergeant Benavidez was presented the award by General William C. Westmoreland while he was recovering from his wounds at Fort Sam Houston's Hospital.

Years later, his former commander learned that Benavidez had survived the war. The officer also learned more details of the sergeant's mission and concluded that Benavidez merited a higher honor. Years of red tape followed until finally on February 24, 1981, President Reagan told White House reporters "you are going to hear something you would not believe if it were a ******." Reagan then read Roy Benavidez's Citation for the Medal of Honor.

Benavidez however, did not regard himself as a hero. He said of his actions. "The real heroes are the ones who gave their lives for their country, I don't like to be called a hero. I just did what I was trained to do."

In addition to being a recipient of the Medal Of Honor, MSG Benavidez was the recipient of the Combat Infantry Badge for his Viet Nam war service, the Purple Heart Medal with 4 Oak Leaf Clusters, Viet Nam Campaign Medal with 4 Battle Stars, Viet Nam Service Medal, Air Medal, Master Parachutist Badge, Vietnamese Parachutist Badge, Republic of Viet Nam Cross of Gallantry with Palm, and other numerous decorations.


Think about that next time you think you're too tired or sore to workout.

 

[negativ]

I imagine I'd enjoy this post if I could read it, but I can't, because real men are illiterate. Book learnin's fer sissy's.

 

[Mike Hurlburt]

Kabuki For President!!!

 

[Hagakure]

My computer started to smell like urine and dried sweat after I left this thread up overnight.

 

[MagnumCT]

being too masculine can be one's downfall. so can being to feminine. all in all, moderation is the best. i'm not saying go trans, just watch your pride.

This almost made me choke on my daily bowl of broken glass. Fortunately, I had my gallon of leaded gasoline nearby to wash it down with. Stop being a pussy.

 

[avoiderdragon]

It's never about the size of the package. It's about the size of the load.