I have ordered and received most of my martial arts gear. The feeling I get from the work out of practicing martial arts is hard to describe; it’s almost euphoric. Taking a kick to the ribs, a punch to the head causes me to smile. Maybe there’s some brain damage….

On Thursday, August 9th, I broke my middle finger practicing an art called Escrima. I took a shot with an escrima stick directly to the fingers. It glanced my pointer finger and caused a hairline fracture on the middle finger. When I was hit, I just shook my hand, smiled and continued on, not realizing the finger was broke. It sure hurt, but the idea of stopping was just ludicrous. You can see a picture of the Escrima sticks in the pics below. Someone asked me how I knew it was broke, and I went to the doc just to see. They find the idea humorous of me seeing the doc, because if they tell me to do something, I’ll probably ignore them anyway. I was supposed to take two weeks off of the martial arts training and keep it either taped or in a splint most of the time. I have actually kept it in a splint a fair amount, but I plan on working out on Wednesday, so the doctor can pretty much go to hell!

The physical changes in my body are awesome. I have definition in my forearms, bicep/triceps, calves, and thighs. Since I am still fat, you can’t really see it too well, but my stomach is becoming more solid. I have a 6 pack, it just happens to be buried under a keg.

The flexibility I am obtaining is awesome. The stamina of sparring for a half hour to an hour is unbelievable. Most people don’t understand how hard it can be to hold your hands up for a couple of minutes let alone holding them up for extended periods of time while punching, kicking, kneeing, elbows and headbutts :P.

I have spent the last couple of days out in the garage cleaning it out and preparing it for my next project. Included with the gear that I bought, I also bought a large Muay Thai heavy bag. I plan on hanging that in the garage. I also will have a speed bag, and a tire beating/kicking post. The tire post will be for kicks with hard resistance, and the escrima sticks. Pictures of that will be forth coming.

I went to take a picture and Loki decided to sit in front of my bag full of gear. Guess he was excited…but who can blame him! All my bear fits in my hockey bag.

The following pictures contains the following gear: Shin guards + instep guards (the adidas are foam, the black century are leather), martial art shoes, Muay Thai boxing gloves, Focus mitts (red and black leather pads), Body Kicking Shield (large blue pad), 2 sets of head gear, 2 sets of Escrima sticks, Chest Protector (white/blue pad), hand target (blue with red teardrop shaped object), and my 4 ounce mma gloves (hard to see but they are leather). I am awaiting the arrival of my Kenpo gloves so I don’t break any more fingers.

When I finish my garage, I will post more pictures, but it’s gonna be awesome and the stuff I want to do is all really cheap/free, just a bit labor intensive. What does not kill me and all….

There are days that you feel as if you are pulled in many directions. Sometimes those days turn into weeks. Those weeks can turn into years. I haven’t had that feeling in a long, long, long time.

There are many,many reasons for the lack of said feeling. Here are a few:

Since my surgery, I decided that since I am the biggest I have been ever, I must lose weight. I have been damn near single minded in this endeavor. I would say the results speak for them selves.

The easiest portion of everything that has happened has actually been the weight loss. Watch what you eat and work out. Pretty damn simple!

I have started to learn the martial arts. You want to talk about a workout, and we are just getting started. After the first few days, I could hardly lift my legs and arms. I was dragging, but the workout is awesome. It is a bit of a change from the workout i was doing before, but I am enjoying this 100 times more.

I have a set of goals written down and I am starting to accomplish them and it feels really good. I have lost almost 50 pounds since February 5th, the date of my surgery.

Todd, “my brother from another mother”, is a great trainer. He has unbelievable patience. When you ask why, he explains. It’s good stuff. BIG TIME STUFF! Thanks DevilMan™! <3

In about 3 to 4 weeks I will be getting my puppy. He’s a pure bred Chocolate Lab. You can see pics of him in my gallery. Gallery is located here. He is the one labeled “Brick”. I have not had time to label any of the pictures.

I have a few different names picked out. The pup was born April 1st, 2007, so whatever I name him will involve that date in some form or another. The names I have picked are:

What do you guys think? Let me know. I am leaning towards Fenris or Loki. All the names have merit.

Wow. It’s been a while since I have taken the time to update this site. A lot has happened since I did last update. I had a couple of surgeries, found some new music, bought a Wii, and had my main computer die.

Let’s start with the surgery. I had my tonsils and adenoids removed on February 5th. The surgery went ok. I didn’t die. They gave me this stuff that causes you to lose all ambition and feelings. It was the greatest thing ever. But then they put me to sleep. That sucked. I woke up to people yelling my name, trying to wake my ass up. Waking up from a surgery is always a bit hard, they trying to give you orders and such and you are still mostly out of it. This surgery is an out patient surgery, meaning that I got to go home that day…but oh no. Complications! I could have died! My throat started to swell, that by 3pm, I could hardly breathe. They gave me some steroids and other meds, and told me that I got to stay for the night. Sucky sucky. The night went by pretty well, all things considered. Nicole came by and visited for a bit. The pain wasn’t too bad, considering I had half my throat chopped out. If you are interested and can handle some blood and cutting, do a google for tonsillectomy for videos. They actually show the surgery being performed.

The next morning at about 11 am, they let me go home. I drove home and rested for the next few days. Eating food was pretty much out of the question for a while. It wasn’t until Friday that I had actually really eaten any solid food. Saturday I ended up eating a few slices of cheese pizza with extra sauce. It was fucking awesome. Even on the percocet, it hurt to swallow. Percocet is some powerful stuff, lemme tell ya. It’s made with oxycodone, which is what is in oxycontin. Even in pain, I was happy. When on the oxy, i wasn’t in too much pain. It hurt to spit and swallow. Everything went pretty well.

Monday night, I go to cards as usual. I even had a quesadilla for dinner. Easy to swallow, cheesy! We had some killer games of Risk. We ended up quitting early because Dennis had to work the next day. When I got home, I noticed the back of my throat had mucus or something in it. I spit it out on the way inside. It was blood. The scabs are falling off, I figured. I got in the house, got in my recliner and went to sleep. I woke up not too much later with the back of my throat full again. I went to the sink to spit it out and it was a very large amount of blood. Oh shit! I remembered the doctor said that this is some what normal, just rinse with cold water for 10 minutes and it should stop. I rinsed, it stopped, but not before I spit up some nasty clots. Back to bed.

About 2:30 a.m. I awoke again. Same thing. Back of the throat is full. I got up, went to the sink and spit out everything. I ended up throwing up once because I had swallowed blood. I rinsed and got the bleeding to stop. I spent a few minutes looking for the number to call someone, because I figured very bad things™ were happening to me. I found the number to the doctors office in the clinic. I called it, knowing no one would be there, but figured I would get a recording telling me who and what to call in case of an emergency. I made note and back to sleep. About 4am, I woke a third time. Same deal. I went to the sink, spit out massive amounts of blood, making a pretty large mess. After getting the blood to stop once again, I called the number for the hospital. I told the lady I had a tonsillectomy a week before and that I was bleeding pretty badly and I needed to get in touch with the surgeon on call. She told me to hold on and she’d put me through. About a minute later, Gietzen was on the phone. I told him that I was bleeding pretty heftily, and that it was the third time it started to bleed. He told me, “You need to get to the nearest E.R. right away. Where are you located?” I told him that I was in Conway and that the nearest ER was Petoskey. He asked if there was someone who could drive me. I laughed. He didn’t find it too funny. I told him I could be at the hospital in 15 minutes. I got my pajamas on, and drove to the hospital. I got there the same time he did and met him in the parking lot. We walked into the E.R. where he looked at me and said, “I am going to have to take you to the operating room to stop the bleeding. We will have to put you to sleep and essentially do the surgery over again.” Ugh. The nurse in the E.R., a guy named Brian starts asking me questions and such for the emergency surgery. I hand over my keys and wallet to the security guards so my stuff does not get stolen or lost. I learned that night that if you drive yourself to the ER, leave your damn wallet in your car and lock it. They wrote down every single item in my wallet. I have credit cards, gift cards, my ccw, and about 20 other things. It took 10 minutes to just inventory my damn wallet.

After stripping down to boxers, and marching around the ER mostly naked, they started the IV and wheeled me down to the OR. At this point, my throat started to feel kind of funny and I realized it was going to start bleeding once again. While in the OR, the anesthesiologist asked me a few questions, and noted that my IV was started at the elbow instead of the forearm or hand. He proceeded to yell at the nurse on duty, which was rather comical. That guy struck me as a butt hole, the doctor, not the nurse. As I was laying there, my throat started to fill up pretty good. I went to say something to Gietzen, but the anesthesiologist and just given me the knock out juice. I tried to tell them my throat was filling. I think I turned my hit to spit out, but I don’t really remember.

I woke up later that morning with the worst swollen tongue i have ever had. It was at least 3 quarters the size of my mouth. I figured that this would be a good time to call people and let them know that I just had an emergency surgery and that I lived! If I had died, well, letting them know would have been someone else’s problem :). I called a few people and let them know, but it was really hard to talk. I was drooling so badly from my tongue not fitting in my mouth quite right. So I survived another surgery. I figured I’d go home at 3 or 4pm that day. Oh no, that was not to be. I wasn’t out of danger yet. My blood pressure was dangerously high. Like, “I could do high.” My BP was over 220. A normal BP is 120. I was at risk for a stroke or heart attack and they weren’t sure why. My heart rate was pretty high also, at about 120. I was informed that I would not be allowed to go home, yet again. That makes for 2 nights and 4 days in the hospital. After a few tests and medication, my BP came down and I was allowed to go home. The doctor told me that this setback would not allow me to go back to work on the next Monday though.

To end the long story, the pain wasn’t too bad. The nurse that was attending me said that she would rather give birth again than have her tonsils removed again. Guess I had it easy, other than my over night stays. The only pain was from talking extended periods of time, swallowing, and spitting. The swallowing part was easy, I ate very very very little. I had pizza that first Friday. Just a couple of slices. A quesadilla that Monday. Then it was another 6 days before I decided to try eating anything solid again. I got to go back to work on Friday, the 23rd. That means it was 3 weeks since I was last at work. The reception at work was good. I got lots of hugs and a few kisses.

All-in-all, it was a sucky experience. I had almost zero energy from not eating, and I was bored out of my freaking mind. I would sit down and play some Nintendo Wii, and fall asleep while playing. The same with movies and television. I did do lots of cuddling with my kitties.

I was chatting with an Arsclan member who lives in Madrid. He’s part of another online community called couchsurfers.com. They offer up their couches to people who travel the world, country, etc. I expressed interest in possibly visiting Europe at some point and he said, fly on over. He’d take time off work, be a personal tour guide, taking me through Europe. He’d even cook. I looked into flights. A flight from Chicago would cost me 550 bucks round trip. If I find out my taxes come back some what favorably, I will be buying a plane ticket to Madrid, Spain. He said that if I were to bring about 300 euros, which is 400 American, I could easily do stuff for a week and a half. A trip to Europe, with a native speaking guide, free room and board, and the chance to meet yet another Arsclanner? OH HELL YEAH! He said that if I were to have a girlfriend, to bring her along. Sadly, I do not at this point. Oh well. I end this post with the prospect that I will be invading the old world in Mid October, visiting probably France, Portugal, Spain and possibly other places.

Welcome my son. Welcome to the machine. I find it very easy to open up to my online blog, and it’s some what strange, as this website is read from quite a few people I don’t even know. I can not control who reads it, nor would I want to.

I find myself relating to music more than anything a good portion of the time. Today’s music choice is awesome. It was done by Blue October. I may have mentioned them in an earlier post. I think my favorite song is Sound of Pulling Heaven Down.

When a person writes lyrics like that, you can tell there is something to them. They mean different things to different people. It’s just a beautiful song.

On the same token, watching someone perform a song from the heart is just as awesome. When I was out in New York a few summers back, my aunt asked me about my cousin Tom. I am pretty close to his age, maybe 4 or 5 years older, and she asked me, “What am I going to do with him?” The answer is long and complicated, but it’s right there. I witnessed it that night. I watched Tom in his element. Tom has practiced a plethora of musical instruments since he was young. He can play the piano, the guitar, and who knows what else. He loves to sing. I will grant you, it was his day, as he had just graduated, but that would not have stopped the crowd of about 20 people surrounding him while he was playing the piano and singing Konstantine. I had never heard the song before, but his version was impressive, as it contained the “soul” of what is missing from music now-a-days.

I will end this post with some of my favorite lyrics ever written. They are simple, but convey a ton of meaning:

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don’t ask why
It’s not a question, but a lesson learned in time

Chatting in IRC tonight, I noticed someone was listening to one of my favorite all time songs: The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald. It’s one of the most sad songs you can ever listen to, and enjoy if that’s possible. The song, for those of you who don’t know is a true story about a ship that was sunk back in 1975 in Lake Superior. 29 people died.

With the weather as gloomy as it is, I sat in the hot tub tonight, had a beer, and thought about what it must have been like for the men on that ship. I also considered what it would be like on one of the other 6,000 ships that have sank in the Great Lakes that surround Michigan. I’ve sat at the shores of all the great lakes at one point in time, and never really thought at that point that these seas would take the lives of men, let alone massive freighters that look unsinkable.

It just goes to show that everyone is mortal, including the young and old. Rarely am I a person for titles, but some titles are absolutely earned, more so than others. However, Captain Ernest McSorely was the oldest man aboard the ship at 63, while Mark A. Thomas was the youngest at 21. It really makes you think.

I try to learn something from everyone, even if I think they aren’t very smart. The things I learn may not be something super useful right away, but it could come in handy a few years down the road. One of the coolest stories I had ever heard was from a girl I had gone out with a few times a few years back. We spent a lot of time chatting, and she talked about her Grandfather as one of the people she respected most. From the stories I heard, I can understand why. I would have love to have met him, as he sounded very, very, very wise. He told her about the 5 globes of life…

There are 5 globes, or balls of life. They are Family, Friends, Health, Religion, and Work. Each globe is compromised of a material, some softer and more malleable than others. The most important globe depends on the person.

The globe of work is made of rubber. If you get fired, you can bounce back. Age affects this globe, wears it out. The globe probably won’t break, as there are always jobs out there.

The globe of Family is made of a strong tempered glass. You can have arguments with your family, and usually nothing happens. When severe fighting happens, you may chip a piece out of the globe. Shattering is possible.

The globe of Friends is very much like the globe of Family. It’s also made of a tempered glass. The same rules of family apply.

The globe of health is made of glass. Your body is a remarkable thing, and if you treat it as such, will always look good. Unfortunately, people do not take care of themselves as they should. Nicks and scratches happen. You get HIV? Your globe shatters.

Religion is the globe made of a different substance for every individual. Some people find that Religion is the most solid thing in their lives, thus making it steel, while others have trouble believing most things, making it balsa wood.

Together, these 5 globes, or balls as they were called in a speech given by the CEO of Coke, make up your life. All 5 globes are important, and no one gets out of life alive without scuffing, scratching, breaking, or shattering their globes.

I will leave this post with this, a some what chilling, some what depressing thought: History repeats itself. There were 3 great storms in the 1900’s on the Great Lakes. 1913, 1940, and 1975. The storm between 1913, and 1940 was 27 years apart. The storm between 1940 and 1975 was 35 years apart. We are almost 31 years away from the last great storm over the great lakes. We are quickly approaching, based on history, the greatest storm of the new century.

So, with this being National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I have been thinking alot of females who have made a difference in my life. Some of them have been teachers, some have been friends, and some have been family.

The greatest influence in my life was far and away my Grams. If I am ever in doubt, I ask myself: Would my Grams do this? It’s such a simple question, but yields amazing results. Unfortunately she passed away a few years back. The hardest question I have ever put to that test was when I was the only one awake and coherent while she was dying and the question was, “Do you want us to attempt resuscitation if something happens?”

I think back to a childhood that had some ups and downs. The “ups” were pretty much always when I lived with my grandparents. Both of them are very special, both are the awesomest people ever. I was dropped off at their house when I was about 5. I may have been 4, I don’t honestly remember. I do remember clearly the night I was dropped off. I was staying with them for the weekend. I got there and my uncle Joe and I took turns “sword fighting” with baseball bats. It wasn’t for a little while that I realized that the weekend was over. It took about 9 more years for that weekend to end.

I grew up with a solid base on how the world works. Money wasn’t tight, per se, but it did not grow on trees. I never went without, but I didn’t get everything I wanted. Salvation Army’s thrift store, Women’s Resource Center’s Thrift store, garage sales, and rummage sales were a big way that we managed on the income that my grumpy old man brought in. We had health insurance, a warm bed, and food. We did things as a family, and were always pretty close. We would camp every year up at Aloha State Park. I never really had the opportunity to travel, and while I wish I would have, I would not trade what I had for what I “may have done.”

It took me quite some time to understand her frustration with me at times. She noticed something that I never did, until we talked when she was dying of cancer. My teachers always found me an underachiever, and I never really agreed or understood why. It was mostly because I never applied myself. It’s an easy thing to say, and I am sure that if I go into the attic of their house, I can dig out all my old report cards and such, read it straight from my teachers. I am sure “needs to apply himself more” is a commonality among my report cards. So was “polite” and “courteous”.

What really made me think, was what I told her one day. She asked how I felt about my dad, as I was about 6 years old at the time. I had not seen, nor heard from my Dad (or my mom for that matter) in quite some time. I told her, “I just pretend like he’s dead, because if he wanted to see me, he knows how to contact me.” Deep for a six year old. She said I made comments similar to that all the time; comments that a person 30 years my senior would have been hard pressed to make and mean. I was wise beyond my years.

You (both grams and gramps) single handedly instilled the morals and values that made me who I am. Where I go is up to me. As long as my hands remain outside my pockets, I can have a hand in my destiny! If I ever become a father, I will follow your examples. That pretty much says it all.

Grams bowed before cancer and passed away, but she will always remain in my thoughts. Gramps…well, he’s still around and as grumpy as ever. I love him for that!

So today is Monday, tomorrow is Tuesday, but more importantly, tomorrow is International Talk Like a Pirate Day! Yarrrrrrr! That day, I will live up to my online name. Oh yes, I will be an assklown!

Today is a rather slow day, which of and by itself, isn’t a bad thing. I haven’t gotten around to listening enough to the new Cope to really review it at all. What I have heard wasn’t near as good as his previous album which makes me a bit depressed.

I have been listening to a lot of Johnny Cash lately. His popular stuff is really good, but his gospel stuff is actually better. There’s more heart and soul to it. It is rather hard to describe. I don’t know all the lyrics and such yet, as it’s hard to with the amount of Cash that I have. His voice is just dead sexy! I found a real treasure within my massive collection a while back. It’s Bob Dylan AND Johnny Cash singing for an entire album. Oh my heck! The only male voices that can even attempt to compete with Cash is Steve Perry and Don Henley!

Last night I had the strangest dream. Last year, I blocked a website called Vampirefreaks.com from the school. It has a bunch of people that are either Goth, vampires, or just want to be dark and mysterious. You may have heard of the website recently because of the school shooting up in Canuckistan. This website is like a myspace for vampires and the “liken”thrope…heh. Anyway, my dream last night involved the kid coming back with a pistol, placing it in my back because I denied him access to his vampire website. I twisted away, grabbing the arm and throwing him in an arm bar. Some how he still managed to shoot me in the side and in the neck. How that would be possible from being an an arm bar like that is a good question. Must that whole Dimethyltryptamine kicking in. Now if I see that kid in the halls, I’ll always wonder…

So, I went to Taco Bell for lunch a few weeks back. I was walking out of the joint with my food. I ordered to go, since I was on lunch from work. As I step off the curb, I hear a squeeling of tires, look to my right, and damn near get hit by some punk in a car.

I noticed the plates right away, as they were from Canuckistan. Stupid Canadians. Sorry CanSpice, I <3 you, but don’t have so much <3 for your country.

Before the story continues, I must give a little background. This was two weeks before school was to start. It’s our busiest time. I was at work myself, no help and was busy the whole time. People tend to think their time is more valuable than yours. It’s a common flaw. I was having a bad week at work, as I had to deal with some crap I really didn’t want to deal with.

So, back to the story. I yelled at the kids to “Slow the fuck down before someone gets hurt.” The guy and his two buddies get out of his car and say “Shut the fuck up or you’ll get hurt.” That was the wrong thing to say to me. I didn’t care if it was three on one. It did not matter.

This punk stood about the same height as me, some what stocky. Nothing super impressive. He had tattoos and piercings all over the place. Lip, nose, eyebrow, etc. His hat was some what crooked like he was a gangsta thug. The fact that he was within a foot or two of hitting me with his pile of crap car did not impress me. After mouthing out, I lost it. I did something I don’t do. I got mad. Those of you that know me, can attest that you have probably never, ever, seen me mad.

I reached out and grabbed his lip ring and shouted at him, “When you wake up in the morning, I want you to remember me. You will remember me because I am not going to rip this metal out of your face.” Then I asked, “Do you understand?” I made him nod his head yes by pulling up and down on his metal face.

I let go of his face, and was going to walk back to my car but I must have wounded his ego in front of his friends. Can’t have that, now can we? He got right up in my face, cussing and swearing at me. I could tell he was mad, and it was was probably justified, but again, I didn’t really care. After about 10 seconds of him in my face, I decided to end it. I tried to see if I could put my forehead through his face. A solid headbutt. He dropped, instantly. Im pretty sure I blew his nose out, cause he had quite the bloody nose. He did not even see it coming.

After face planting him, I walked to my car, got in, and drove away. I had the highest adrenaline high. It was strange to do that and go back to work. I kind of feel sorry for the punk, but at the same time I don’t. Had I been a little kid, he would have smashed me. He was going WAY too fast in a parking lot. To this day, I have a feeling he will remember that some people don’t put up with crap cause he “looks” like a thug.

I was running through my music list today, and with over 5,000 songs here at work, there was nothing I really wanted to listen to at this moment. I think it’s the vicodin. That’s not normal for myself. I could listen to music 24/7.

Today is day two for students back at work. Day three for staff. It gets a bit frustrating constantly being asked how i enjoyed my time off during the summer. I then have to explain to them that I am year round and that i work all summer. Sometimes I don’t think they can add 1 and 2 to get 3. While that may seem petty, it’s the same staff every year, asking the same question. The end result is the same. Year in, year out.

Atleast i made the business manager crack up a bit. He’s a good guy. He was saying yesterday was a shitty day, everyone was whining like there was no tomorrow. He then said that if I could read his e-mails, I would understand. Naturally, I interjected “But I can read your e-mails.” He was laughing pretty hard.

The highlight of my day on Weds was being awoken at the buttcrack of dawn with a phone call. I was already awake, but i wasn’t. I was laying about in bed, thinking i really need to get up. I got my motivation from that phoney call! I thought that was pretty damn neat. I also got a call this morning. Made the ride to work pleasant.

So far, I have 5 students, although I always get more as the semester goes on. Last year at this time, I had 6. I ended up with 21. This year, i’d like to keep it around 7-15ish. That gives me anywhere from 2 to 3 max per hour. That allows me to work with them more, teach them, and have them do some grunt work. The best part of my students is the fact that I can show them real world examples of things, not just technology related. Many of these kids are going to be leaving for college next year, so I try and help prepare them for what the real world is like.

I have had alot of my former students stop in and say hi. I think they are a bit lost in life, as alot of their friends went off to college. They are going to ncmc here in town. They still think like students, they live and die by the bells and schedules. Too bad we can’t get rid of that system. I don’t know what would replace it, but living your life by a bell just isn’t cool.

The new Citizen Cope hit the net last week. I have listened to it once over, and it sounds pretty good. I don’t know if it can compare to his 2004 album. Too early to tell. My next update will include a review cause the public wants to know!

I bought the new Flogging Molly cd that came out a few weeks back. First off, I must give props to the band for avoid the RIAA. Much thanks for that! I haven’t bought too much music as of late because of that. The RIAA is a bunch of bastards. The album is great. I really enjoy the new song, and the differing renditions of the others.

Speaking of a bunch of bastards, I found a deal online where Home Depot mismarked one of their gas ranges to 39.00 instead of 739.00 . I called the local store, but no dice. They didn’t have any in stock. The lady I talked to was giggling when she said how much they were supposed to be going for. She did call around to local stores for me, but they didn’t have any either. She’s a total sweetheart! She suggested I call the 800 number. I called and spoke to some limp wrist named Jessie. Because it was a mistake, they are not going to honor their price. I figured as much, but I think the guy was honestly a limp wrist. Long story short, I tried to order online again. Order went through. Now I must wait to see if it’s canceled.

I would like to take this spot to say that Steve Perry is The Man. Here is an example of his Manlihood. If that does not do it for you, try this. Look at the facial expressions. Go ahead, try to karoke that song. Bet you can’t do it. He just hits way too many different notes. It was truely a sad day in history when he was fired from the band. He was the voice, and without him, quite frankly, they were, and still are shit.

I finished watching a movie last night that was actually really cool. It’s American name, (yet to be released for us) is District 13. Banlieue 13 is the French name. The movie was completely in French with no English subtitles. Honestly, I did not need them. I was able to watch the entire movie, not understanding but 3 words, and know what was going on. The action was awesome. I mean truely awesome. These guys starred in the movie. David Belle and Cyril Raffaelli are amazing. The amount of raw strength these guys have is something to behold. One last video for you to watch. This is a russian duo. They are also very amazing. Understand these guys are going at it with no ropes or safety chains. Just farking nuts.