Dante is not a six foot tall 400 pound big mouth knucklehead. Who didn't deserve to die to be sure. The problem is the midget cops they allow on the force these days. They had to lower the standards so women and Asians could become cops.
All cops should be six foot tall Irish guys. Then that guy would still have been alive.
They've had the reins of power for plenty long to make the changes that would have prevented this man's death. Especially if those changes were so very vitally important. (Guess they weren't. Guess those were just talking points to get the morons raging and fired up to vote.)
(1) Straight Arm Lat Cable Pulldown (50 lbs.): 10 x 10 x 10 x 10
(2) Straight Arm Lat Cable Pulldown (40 lbs.): 10 x 10 x 10 x 10
Had to drop the weight, as you can see, so I made up for it with reps.
When my arm gets better it'll be back to pullups and rows, Lord willing.
As it is right now, the pushups are kind of sketchy. I have to keep my grip perfectly rigid. Any lateral movement and I receive an immediate punishment.
Hey . . . we all do the best we can with what we've got.
I can no longer do my beloved shoulder presses because of my fucked up wrist/forearm, so tonight I decided to try to get serious about dumbbell lateral raises. Some websites will tell you they're just as good but I doubt that.
Anyway, 6 sets of 10 with 10 lb. dumbbells and my right forearm is not happy in the least.
I cannot jump anymore. Not one bit. When I try it's ridiculous. My brother laughed his ass off watching me try because I look like an infant with absolutely no coordination between nerves and muscles, and feedback and such. I don't even know how to start. It's horrible to lose it like that *snap* I used to be a good jumper, and now, nothing. It's like the muscles cannot talk with the brain or with each other.
I also cannot whistle anymore. I used to be able to whistle tunes. Pretty good too. And now, nothing. The nerves cannot shape the mouth.
I mentioned this at a dinner party one time, that I was practicing regaining my whistling ability and can manage a whistle-peep now and then, if my lips are wet enough and shaped just so. Immediately the whole table tried whistling, and only half the people could do it. This heartened me tremendously. That everybody was bad as I.
Does this item relate to the big guy who died from a police chokehold?
Everything I read about that incident, or saw on t.v., fails to mention the whole thing was about untaxed cigarettes. Don't you think that part of the story is essential in any retelling of the incident? For some reason it is avoided.
Failure to mention the fact that the dead fat guy had at least 30 prior arrests takes the wind out of the sails of the police brutality crowd. That and his refusal to cooperate with the arresting officer. I mean, it wasn't his first rodeo. Sure, it was his last, and he headed off to the big roundup, but he knew what was expected of him, he just chose to resist. Can't blame him, but hey, stupid, if you are going to fight the police bring something other than adipose tissue.
What the anti-police crowd can't acknowledge is that they created a police state by regulating everyday transactions to the point of criminalizing some moron's attempt to fill the need of other EBT citizens - namely, the need to purchase cigarettes one at a time due to the onerous taxation imposed on tobacco products.
It costs a lot of money to support a bloated government so everything is taxed nearly to death, which leads those with an entrepreneurial bent to try to make a buck working outside the system, while simultaneously freeloading on it.
Not one bit of that advances the narrative, so it is ignored. Instead we hear that ol' blimpy was a dedicated family man who loved kittens or some shit.
Funny thing is, my ex-FIL used to work in the city busting cigarette smugglers back in the '60s. Some things never change. Well, taxes have gone up, and now the midgets on the force clamber up the morbidly obese perps in order to kill them, but other than that, nope, everything is the same.
And who the fuck names their little brat "Dante"? Sounds like a name a commie married to a lesbian would select. Oh, wait...
(1) I'm not the least bit hungover, somewhat surprisingly. Every day I decant the booze I intend to consume that evening into a measuring beaker kind of thing (it has a lid so no evaporation). Yesterday I was right at the pre-measured quantity that produces a mini-hangover about 75% of the time so it looks like I dodged a bullet. Lucky me.
I feel like shit, nevertheless. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in many months. Chalk it up to stress. We all have our problems.
(2) I had to stop jumping rope, having injured my gluteus medius or gluteus minimus. But I found out I can still do squats if I do so with extreme caution.
So of course, on Thursday, I decided to do my same 6 sets of 10 reps of barbell back squats (I had to move beyond the air squat thing) but I put an extra 70 pounds on there just to see if I could handle it.
Yeah, I could handle it well enough . . . then . . . but now? Not so much. What a dope! Some guys have an achy-breaky heart and then there's me. Achy-breaky ass.
(3) They say you can't be insane all by yourself stranded on a deserted tropical island. I don't think that's meant to be taken as strictly true. I think maybe that's meant to express the truth that we're social animals and everything's relative.
It was just the other day I looked up what it means to have a "wounded pride."
One could endeavor, of course, to take pride in absolutely nothing. But there's a steep price to pay for that sort of thing, has been my experience.
(4) Perhaps the better view is, when you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle, and this'll help things turn out for the best. And always look on the bright side of life.
It probably matters not if you can't actually whistle.
Eric, Regular exercise changed my life. May very well have saved it. The psychological reward is more important for me than the physical. Hope you get back to your routine soon.
What happens, typically, is I get it in my head to do something regularly, then I push too much, too soon, injure myself, and then I have to regroup (or maybe deload if I'm not hurt too badly) with something else and then I do it all over again.
Something about doing the same thing over and over again each time expecting a different result, I'm afraid.
When we were running a bar we always made sure to hire bouncers who were so big that even a really drunk asshole would think twice about not listening.
You could be the toughest guy in the joint but if you were tiny then thee knuckleheads would just run wild.
Back in the day they would hire big dumb guys who could barely read right off the boat to be beat cops. They need to get rid of the tests and just hire big dumb guys to put on foot patrol.
I agree that this kook was totally out of line but he didn't deserve to die because the cop was afraid of him and couldn't handle his bulk without choking the life out of him.
34 comments:
Why chokehold when you have all that hair begging to be put to use ;)
New York City does a darn fine job of keeping its underclass under control so that its upper class can enjoy the fruits of life in the Big Apple.
This entails a certain disregard for the Constitution but sometime those eggs just need to be broken for the betterment of our betters.
Holy crap. I agree with Al Sharpton.
That's a big bag of bullshit.
Dante is not a six foot tall 400 pound big mouth knucklehead. Who didn't deserve to die to be sure. The problem is the midget cops they allow on the force these days. They had to lower the standards so women and Asians could become cops.
All cops should be six foot tall Irish guys. Then that guy would still have been alive.
Spike Lee is some kind of visionary.
Or maybe that was Tom Wolfe.
Or Peter Wolf.
Now I'm all confusicated.
BlameShiftingToPriorAdministration
Sound familiar?
They've had the reins of power for plenty long to make the changes that would have prevented this man's death. Especially if those changes were so very vitally important. (Guess they weren't. Guess those were just talking points to get the morons raging and fired up to vote.)
See also, exploiting children for political gain.
Hey, that has a familiar ring, too!
Anything for the cause.
No. Actually, upon reflection, I think the alcohol has finally taken effect.
Time to head down to the basement and do some dips, pushups, and cable flys.
Made my last comment at TOP.
I can no longer abide her continued mollification of Crack.
Hey EMD. I would like to invite you to join my blog. Just email me at trooperyork@gmail.com and I will send you an invitation.
I have long said all cops should be required to have a black belt in some martial art.
Here's how it went in the basement.
(1) Decline P-Bar Pushups: 20 x 20 x 20
(2) Dips: 10 x 10 x 10
(3) Cable fly (20 lbs per arm): 10 x 10 x 10
Then it was grill the pork chops, eat dinner, and now, here I am.
Well, there's jazz playing on the TV, and I feel pretty good -- which I haven't for way too long -- so that's enough of that!
Time to start drinking, in earnest!!!1!!!1!!
And soon it'll be time to do lats.
I have to do straight arm cable pulldowns (sets of 50 lbs.) because I've torn my right bicep and I fucked up my forearm. I'm not getting any younger.
Yeah . . . but still . . . it'll get done.
AND LIFE IS GOOD!!!1!11!!!!!!!
They should await the results of the autopsy before pronouncing this as death by chokehold.
The thing is midget cops all have a Napoleon complex and a gun.
Not a good thing.
(1) Straight Arm Lat Cable Pulldown (50 lbs.): 10 x 10 x 10 x 10
(2) Straight Arm Lat Cable Pulldown (40 lbs.): 10 x 10 x 10 x 10
Had to drop the weight, as you can see, so I made up for it with reps.
When my arm gets better it'll be back to pullups and rows, Lord willing.
As it is right now, the pushups are kind of sketchy. I have to keep my grip perfectly rigid. Any lateral movement and I receive an immediate punishment.
Hey . . . we all do the best we can with what we've got.
All that effort and you still throw like a girl.
I can no longer do my beloved shoulder presses because of my fucked up wrist/forearm, so tonight I decided to try to get serious about dumbbell lateral raises. Some websites will tell you they're just as good but I doubt that.
Anyway, 6 sets of 10 with 10 lb. dumbbells and my right forearm is not happy in the least.
We'll see how I feel tomorrow.
Oh, I'll be hungover, that's for sure.
I meant the forearm.
Just to be clear.
But I'll be more-or-less fully recovered by lunchtime and then it'll be off to a brewpub to start Saturday's bout of intoxication.
The liver is a hell of an organ.
Actually, I think it might be a gland.
Whatever.
But what about squats?
Try jumping rope. See how that goes.
I cannot jump anymore. Not one bit. When I try it's ridiculous. My brother laughed his ass off watching me try because I look like an infant with absolutely no coordination between nerves and muscles, and feedback and such. I don't even know how to start. It's horrible to lose it like that *snap* I used to be a good jumper, and now, nothing. It's like the muscles cannot talk with the brain or with each other.
I also cannot whistle anymore. I used to be able to whistle tunes. Pretty good too. And now, nothing. The nerves cannot shape the mouth.
I mentioned this at a dinner party one time, that I was practicing regaining my whistling ability and can manage a whistle-peep now and then, if my lips are wet enough and shaped just so. Immediately the whole table tried whistling, and only half the people could do it. This heartened me tremendously. That everybody was bad as I.
Does this item relate to the big guy who died from a police chokehold?
Everything I read about that incident, or saw on t.v., fails to mention the whole thing was about untaxed cigarettes. Don't you think that part of the story is essential in any retelling of the incident? For some reason it is avoided.
"Made my last comment at TOP."
What did you say? I hope you were polite.
I hope you were polite.
To the Pool of Hope, add pithy and pointed.
Failure to mention the fact that the dead fat guy had at least 30 prior arrests takes the wind out of the sails of the police brutality crowd. That and his refusal to cooperate with the arresting officer. I mean, it wasn't his first rodeo. Sure, it was his last, and he headed off to the big roundup, but he knew what was expected of him, he just chose to resist. Can't blame him, but hey, stupid, if you are going to fight the police bring something other than adipose tissue.
What the anti-police crowd can't acknowledge is that they created a police state by regulating everyday transactions to the point of criminalizing some moron's attempt to fill the need of other EBT citizens - namely, the need to purchase cigarettes one at a time due to the onerous taxation imposed on tobacco products.
It costs a lot of money to support a bloated government so everything is taxed nearly to death, which leads those with an entrepreneurial bent to try to make a buck working outside the system, while simultaneously freeloading on it.
Not one bit of that advances the narrative, so it is ignored. Instead we hear that ol' blimpy was a dedicated family man who loved kittens or some shit.
Funny thing is, my ex-FIL used to work in the city busting cigarette smugglers back in the '60s. Some things never change. Well, taxes have gone up, and now the midgets on the force clamber up the morbidly obese perps in order to kill them, but other than that, nope, everything is the same.
And who the fuck names their little brat "Dante"? Sounds like a name a commie married to a lesbian would select. Oh, wait...
(1) I'm not the least bit hungover, somewhat surprisingly. Every day I decant the booze I intend to consume that evening into a measuring beaker kind of thing (it has a lid so no evaporation). Yesterday I was right at the pre-measured quantity that produces a mini-hangover about 75% of the time so it looks like I dodged a bullet. Lucky me.
I feel like shit, nevertheless. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in many months. Chalk it up to stress. We all have our problems.
(2) I had to stop jumping rope, having injured my gluteus medius or gluteus minimus. But I found out I can still do squats if I do so with extreme caution.
So of course, on Thursday, I decided to do my same 6 sets of 10 reps of barbell back squats (I had to move beyond the air squat thing) but I put an extra 70 pounds on there just to see if I could handle it.
Yeah, I could handle it well enough . . . then . . . but now? Not so much. What a dope! Some guys have an achy-breaky heart and then there's me. Achy-breaky ass.
(3) They say you can't be insane all by yourself stranded on a deserted tropical island. I don't think that's meant to be taken as strictly true. I think maybe that's meant to express the truth that we're social animals and everything's relative.
It was just the other day I looked up what it means to have a "wounded pride."
An example given was: "I am a good gymnast and I enjoy practicing in the park. One day, a man much younger than me happened to also be doing gymnastics in the park, and he was much better at it than me. That day, my pride (for my gymnastics skills) would have been wounded."
One could endeavor, of course, to take pride in absolutely nothing. But there's a steep price to pay for that sort of thing, has been my experience.
(4) Perhaps the better view is, when you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle, and this'll help things turn out for the best. And always look on the bright side of life.
It probably matters not if you can't actually whistle.
It's the thought that counts, hopefully.
Eric, Regular exercise changed my life. May very well have saved it. The psychological reward is more important for me than the physical. Hope you get back to your routine soon.
Thanks. I'm still working out. I've just had to make some adjustments. I'm kind of obsessed.
I change my routine (if I can call it that) around pretty often, anyway.
FOR SCIENCE!!!1!!!!!!
What happens, typically, is I get it in my head to do something regularly, then I push too much, too soon, injure myself, and then I have to regroup (or maybe deload if I'm not hurt too badly) with something else and then I do it all over again.
Something about doing the same thing over and over again each time expecting a different result, I'm afraid.
When we were running a bar we always made sure to hire bouncers who were so big that even a really drunk asshole would think twice about not listening.
You could be the toughest guy in the joint but if you were tiny then thee knuckleheads would just run wild.
Back in the day they would hire big dumb guys who could barely read right off the boat to be beat cops. They need to get rid of the tests and just hire big dumb guys to put on foot patrol.
I agree that this kook was totally out of line but he didn't deserve to die because the cop was afraid of him and couldn't handle his bulk without choking the life out of him.
Affirmative action killed this mook.
Sorry using an iPad so I am spelling even worse than usual.
What did you say? I hope you were polite.
Ha. It was never published. It wasn't impolite.
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