Or one of the greatest, at least.

Right here, I'm not concerned with Mel Gibson's warped ideas, regarding various religious topics; the man is clearly troubled and has some fairly profound issues to cope with, but he still knows how to make a top-notch film.  Apocalypto is absolutely amazing.

The contrast between Jaguar Paw's tribe and the Mayan civilization was startling--i.e., simple tribal hunter-gatherers vs. a powerful but degenerate New World empire.  The Mayans and their society were portrayed brilliantly, and with impressive attention to detail--eg., their practices of cranial deformation, and inlaying their teeth with jade. 

Like the Aztecs, the Mayans were rather preoccupied with human sacrifice, which explains why they went to such great lengths to secure prisoners.  This was shown well in the movie, where the Mayan raiding party efficiently took down and tied up many of the people in Jaguar Paw's village.  I don't think this sort of thing has ever been shown in any other movie that concerns New World Indian empires.

Apocalypto is pure "visual coffee".  The whole film has you on the edge of your seat, but especially when the Mayan Captain and his warriors pursue Jaguar Paw into the jungle--it's absolutely adrenaline-soaked mayhem!  This is not a movie for the squeamish.  Gibson (as usual) pulls no punches, when showing the downright grittiness of tribal warfare and violence; we get to see the effects of arrows, atl-atl javelins, sling stones, & obsidian-bladed war-clubs, quite graphically.  We also, however, get to see some interesting "tribal spec ops" action, like when Jaguar Paw makes an improvised blowgun, and uses one of those colorful poison arrow frogs to load up his darts with some lethal amphibian chemical compounds.  Really cool shit.

One thing I do agree with Gibson on is the essentially negative nature of the Mayan and Aztec societies, just prior to the arrival of the Spanish (I personally don't feel that these societies that were rooted in human sacrifice died before their time).  Mel's portrayal of the Mayans isn't PC at all, nor is it likely to appeal to historical revisionists.  And that's just fine with me.

But, while the commentary on "civilization gone bad" is there, I think that Apocalypto is ultimately... a tender love story!  After all, it's about Jaguar Paw going through a terrible ordeal, while all he wants to do is get back to his pregnant wife and young son.  We cannot help but be struck by his outright determination to do so.

About a week ago, I had a very upsetting conversation with an elderly woman.

Now, I normally like the elderly.  I respect folks from the generation of the Great Depression and WWII.  I dig their sense of manners (you won't typically see a 60- or 70-something individual rudely gabbing on a cell phone, while doing other tasks in public), and their wisdom.

But idiocy appears in every generation, and this time I had to deal with it, first-hand.  This lady was talking about her dog--an old fellow around 15 years old, with hip problems.  Apparently, he actually needs help just to go outside, to do his business.  Before I could interject, the woman also mentioned how her canine has a big tumor on his neck, but that she wasn't worried about it, "because he has a good appetite".  After hearing this, my anxiety began to rise, and I politely asked her, "Well, what does your vet say about these things?"

She casually responded that she doesn't take her dog to the vet.

This really blew me away.

I told the woman that it sounded as if she REALLY needed to get her dog to a vet, but she was obstinate about the whole thing--she dismissed the idea outright, and assured me that everything was okay, because she had a "paramedical" background?  What the FUCK does that have to do with anything?!  So let me get this straight--you don't need to take your dog to a vet, because you have experience in driving and ambulance, and treating human patients?  WTF?!

It got worse.  She mentioned how she was totally against the idea of putting an animal down.  I asked her, "What about if the animal is suffering?"  I wasn't talking about any particular animal, but she clearly felt I was referring to her dog, and she said, "Well, he isn't suffering, because he isn't crying".  I found this reasoning to be downright staggering.  I said, "Animals can actually suffer in silence.  It's up to a qualified professional in veterinary medicine to figure that out."

The woman took offense to what I said.  She then declared that I should "read the Bible".  It was a thoroughly awkward situation, and I was becoming increasingly angry, so I had to just walk away.

This stupid lady reminded me of all those morons I see on Animal Cops.  Ignorant twits who end up doing the animals they supposedly love more harm than good.  I even contemplated reporting her to the ASPCA, but I was not in the position to do such a thing, when the conversation took place.  It was a complicated situation.

Such a friggin' shame...

I really identify with what Rollins was saying here.

"What I See" by Black Flag (from the album Damaged, 1981)

This feeling haunts me

Behind these eyes

The shell seems so empty

Does anything live inside?

I want to live

I wish I was dead

My heart aches to believe

I'm cheated by what I see

Freedom holds a double edge for me

I look in your eyes and see

I want to live

I wish I was dead

I don't want to think

I'm stuck here and I know it

I don't want to see

Make me close my eyes

I want to live

I wish I was dead

Life's cold--and it reaches inside

I need to feel it turning my mind off

The desperation begins

From the start I see the end

Not right

I'm not right

You're not right!

I gotta close my eyes!

I look in your eyes

And I see it's always this way

Live the lie and take a dive

Just to make it die

I want to live

I wish I was dead

I've just got to close my eyes

I've got to close my eyes

I've got to close my eyes

The sheer frustration I've been feeling lately is just totally off the fucking hook.  I'll be alright--but right now I've got a lot of anger and negativity permeating me.  I need to deal with change, which is something I've never been particularly good at.  I need to get in touch with my Zen side, and calm down.

That being the case, I must paraphrase legendary wrestler Stan Zybysco--"I've got work on my hands".

Stay strong, folks.

Pax,

David

"Love is as strong as death; jealousy is as cruel as the grave."  --Holy Bible, Song of Solomon 8:6

"O!  what a rogue and peasant slave am I."  --Shakespeare, Hamlet, II, ii

"All men are liable to error; and most men are, in many points, by passion or interest, under temptation to it."  --John Locke, Essay Concerning Human Understanding

"The human heart is like a ship on a stormy sea driven about by winds blowing from all four corners of heaven."  --Martin Luther

"Delay always breeds anger, and to protract a great design is often to ruin it."  --Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote

"I bend but do not break."  --La Fontaine, The Oak and the Reed in Fables

"Love those who love you."  --Voltaire

"It is impossible to love and be wise." --Francis Bacon

"Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough."  --Pierre-Augustin de Beaumarchais

"Can there be a love which does not make demands on its object?"  --Confucius

"A pity beyond all telling

Is hid in the heart of love."  --William Butler Yeats

Yesterday's show at Asbury Lanes was really fun.

I had never been to the Lanes before, and it was a supremely cool place--an actual bowling alley, where bands also play.  The stage is set up in the center lanes, while folks can still have bowling games on the outer lanes on either side.  I know it sounds like a bizarre arrangment, but it actually works.

As if that wasn't unique enough, this place also serves alcohol, and has decent fast food fare--burgers, veggie burgers, falafels, fries, etc.  Sort of a self-contained entertainment unit, so to speak.  Before the bands went on, and inbetween sets, a DJ spun all sorts of classic ska & reggae, which was extremely cool.

Four bands played last night.  First up were a Pennsyl-tuckey punk band called The Cutters, who were quite good.  In addition to having decent songs, they especially deserve props for mentioning Joe Strummer's birthday (the legendary Clash vocalist would have been 56, on August 21st).

Next up were the traditionalist ska warriors, Silver Dollar.  Sporting a re-vamped lineup, Skoochie and the boys kicked some major ass, doing a bunch of Skatalites covers and other undeniably catchy tunes.  If any band these days in "keeping it real" in the ska sense, it's these guys.  They are the Gideon Force of modern ska music, fighting against fickle trends with grim professionalism and consummate skill.

Following Silver Dollar is no easy thing, but Across the Aisle gave it their best shot, for which I give them major credit.  They're a sort of pop/ska/punk band in the vein of No Doubt or Save Ferris; thinking about it, I would have to say that they were the one band that was kind of out of place, but they performed well.  The majority of the crowd seemed to view them with a distinct amount of apathy, but the band nevertheless performed as if they were in front of a loyal home audience.

Finally, Hub City Stompers came on, and, as usual, they delivered an irreverent set of raucous tunes.  They played a decent cross-section of tracks from their entire career, ranging from the always-awesome "Chatterbox" off their original full-length release, Blood, Sweat, & Beers, to "Trojan Night" from their Mass Appeal EP, and several songs from their Dirty Jersey full-length CD, like "Skins Don't Cry" and "Skinhead Boi".  They also played some new tunes off of their forthcoming Ska Ska Black Sheep, including one hilarious number that thoroughly mocks the bullshit we know as Emo.  Any "scene" that involves guys wearing girl's jeans is begging to be made fun of, and you can imagine what a band like HCS does with such material.  Travis, I salute you!!!

Another real treat was their cover of one of Steel Toe Solution's songs, "Bootgirl".  Given that STS are no more, it was great to hear that.

It was good to see skinhead Lenny, and it was the first time I saw his wonderful assistance dog, Tyrone, a big lug of a Pit-Bull mix (he looks like he might have some American Bulldog or mastiff in him).  Such a cool animal.

Overall, it was a great night.  It was ostensibly a Scooter Ralley, but the number of dilapitated Lambrettas parked outside was rather low--indeed, I think I saw more motorcyles out front, than scooters.

The one unexpected feature of the evening (to me, at least) were the local soccer hooligans at the gig.  To be honest, I had no friggin' idea that soccer was followed here in the States, or that there was even a "hooligan" element to speak of.  But obviously I've been living in a cave, because there they were, a bunch of hooligans--both skins and casuals--cheering on the victories of their chosen team, and singing the characteristic pub sing-a-longs that we normally associate with British football thugs. 

The counterculture is never a dull thing, that's for sure.

The Filipino art of eskrima is most certainly a magnificent martial art, one of the finest examples of a functional fighting method ever created, in the history of martial arts.

In my opinion, two main factors have hampered the propagation of the Filipino arts:

1. The lack of government support for the native fighting arts, until fairly recently.

2. The very nature of eskrima itself--i.e., it's a hard-core, "old-school" martial art, that focuses on rugged weapons use.

Regarding Factor 1, it's interesting to note that eskrima/arnis has only been compulsory in the Filipino education system since 1990. Compare that to the Japanese martial arts, which have been compulsory in that country's education system since 1911.

Regarding Factor 2, it probably shouldn't shock any of us that, in modern times, eskrima actually became less popular in the Philippines than non-Filipino fighting arts like karate and judo, because the masses weren't into giving and receiving the hard knocks, which typically happen in realistic armed fighting methods that make use of sticks. A similar situation happened in Europe, in the early 20th century, when the native English form of singlestick-play ultimately died out, to be replaced entirely by the modern foil, epee, and light saber. The English singlestick was an ash sapling or dowel, fitted with a wickerwork or hardened leather basket-hilt. It was essentially the "bokken" of the West--a training tool for broadsword, backsword, and heavy saber. Singlestick fencing was even included in the modern Olympic Games through 1904. It survived in English fencing salles through the 1920s, and finally died out in the 1930s, when it was still practiced in some British public schools, and even by American Navy cadets, who used it for cutlass practice. By this time, singlestick had come under criticism from fencing masters trained in the conventional 3 weapons of foil, epee, & saber. These masters evidently didn't understand the singlestick and its history, and it's a shame that this native English fighting art ultimately died out, largely because folks simply didn't want to get cracked by an ash stick (which is funny, considering that latter-day singlestick players typically wore appropriately heavy gear, including a heavy fencing helmet similiar in protection to the moder WEKAF* helmet, a thick jacket, and a cricket pad on the lead leg).

Like English singlestick, Filipino eskrima is an art that hearkens back to an earlier time, when men (and sometimes women, too) literally depended on their skills with sticks and swords, for survival. If you go back far enough in history, there was a time when folks were, frankly, made of tougher stuff, and they were willing to do what it took, to learn the use of their weapons. Compare how English singlestick died out in the 1930s, to its height of popularity 200 years earlier, during the time of the great cudgeller & pugilist, James Figg (who was, incidentally, the first modern heavyweight boxing champion). In Figg's day, no protection was worn, either with singlestick-play or when using actual sharp swords. Bouts began with the prayer, "Lord, spare our eyes", which is admittedly sobering. Figg's main sparring partner, Captain John Godfrey, wrote of the kind of man Figg was:

"I chose mostly to go to Figg, partly because I knew him to be the ablest Master, as partly, because he was of a rugged Temper, and would spare no Man, high or low, who took up a Stick against him."

This says much about Figg's character. In his day, singlestick-play was regarded as a martial art of the common people, as opposed to the nobles. Commoners fenced singlestick, and nobles fenced smallsword. And yet, Figg was popular with everyone, and he had many noble gentlemen who trained at his school. Rather than treating these high-born men any differently, Figg had no qualms about cracking them in the skull, either!

Fortunately, I think FMA has already accomplished what English singlestick ultimately failed to do--i.e., survive the fickleness of the martial arts public. That being said, FMAists would still do well to learn from the story of singlestick's demise. While FMA remains, there are still numerous divided camps, regarding how the art should be promoted & taught. As with Western fencing systems, eskrima has suffered from a certain amount of functional dilution, as the full-armor WEKAF tournaments all-too-plainly show. For a truly functional weaponed fighting art to survive in the modern day is dicey, to put it mildly. The average martial arts student of today is typically not comparable to those stalwart folks who trained in these arts, even just 50 years ago, let alone in the previous centuries. What does the future hold for FMA? I honestly don't know--but if we keep the historical record in mind, we can hopefully keep FMA from either going the way of the dinosaur, or degenerating into functional oblivion, like so many other arts. When an art dies, a part of that nation's culture dies.  I don't know about the rest of you, but I NEVER want to see FMA deteriorate into some sort of wushu-like "performance art".

That would be a genuine tragedy.

____________

* World Eskrima Kali Arnis Federation

In the 17th and early 18th centuries, the Scottish Highlands were essentially the U.K.'s "Indian Country".  The Highland Scots were a tribal society, and they still spoke their ancient Celtic language (Gaelic).

True to their original Celtic heritage, the Highlanders were a warrior culture, where skill in the use weapons (especially edged weapons like swords) was considered paramount.  In a land that produced many top-notch swordsmen, there were still some folks who stood out, and one of them was Robert Roy MacGregor, aka Rob Roy.

Rivarly with other clans (particularly the land-hungry Campbells) had been hard on Clan Gregor, for the past couple of hundred years.  Nevertheless, they fought tenaciously, and it is little wonder that author W.H. Murray declared that "Two centuries of persecution had made Clan Gregor the toughest and most skilful guerrilla force ever to operate in Scotland".

This was the warrior culture that Robert Roy MacGregor was born into.

Highland warrior society was based principally on the use of edged weapons.  The main weapons were the basket-hilted broadsword (claidheamh mor or "claymore"), the leather-covered round wooden shield (targe), and the dirk (a large, usually single-edged fighting knife).  The great two-handed sword (claidheamh da laimh) was still occasionally used, but was not nearly so common, as in centuries past (indeed, many two-handers were actually cut down, to provide blades for the basket-hilted swords).  Also in use was the dreaded lochaber axe, a local variety of polearm.

W.H. Murray went into some detail as to the training of Highland swordsmen, in his excellent book, Roy Roy MacGregor--His Life and Times:

"Practice began with the ash stick, through which a peg had been driven below the handle.  Rob was taught (most likely by the clan's fencing master) first to take position--body upright, the feet and legs positioned in different ways for best balance and speed of action.  When that was mastered, he was taught the cuts made from seven angles, and seven guard positions below and above breast level.  Only when these had been thoroughly learned would he be shown the three thrusts, made with a straight wrist from eye-, breast-, and hip-levels, and finally three 'engaging' guards.

The rest was a matter of steady practice.  The cuts and guards had to be made each and all from the different positions using a naked blade to get the proper turns of the wrist and blade-edge; therefore it was common practice to make a square target from old boards, on which the fourteen cuts and guards were engraved.  Rob would have to face it daily, and practice each stroke and guard point until they became second nature.

Donald (Rob's father) must have had reason to be pleased with Rob, who early on would show his exceptionally fast reflexes and a promise of strength and quickness excelling his brothers'.  After a few years' stick play, Rob would learn the finer points of the art, and Donald would pass on battle experience--how against a mounted enemy you must gain his left side and slash the horse's nose, which sent it right about; while against a man with a rapier, cut diagonally up at his arm.  Ash stick play was the common course for all boys.  They fenced assiduously and grew accustomed to hard knocks."

To be continued...

Last night's bout between Fedor Emelianenko and Tim Sylvia at the Affliction "Banned" event was really something to see.

All 36 seconds of it.

I was looking forward to seeing Fedor give "The Maine-iac" a thorough lesson in MMA technique, but I'll confess I wasn't expecting it to end that quickly.

Don't get me wrong--we all know Fedor is a monster--but his immediate & complete dismantling of Sylvia was akin to the unsuspecting German Army's first encounter with the dreaded Russian T-34.

The T-34 was a finely-balanced tank, with excellent firepower, mobility, & armor protection.  Likewise, Fedor Emelianenko is one of the most well-rounded fighters in MMA, with solid skills & attributes in ALL areas of the game:  standup striking, throws & takedowns, groundwork & subs, and ground n' pound.  He is absolutely amazing.

"The Last Emperor" is truly the absolute ruler of the MMA Empire!

I've decided to refine my lifestyle and physical training, in a decidedly uncommon manner.

Every friggin' day at my vitamin store, I see various athletes and wannabe athletes, who come in looking for the latest and greatest in sports supplementation--eg., testosterone & GH boosters, nitric oxide (NO) boosters, umpteenth-generation creatine, and blah, blah, blah.  And they always have to gab on about illegal anabolic steroids, too.  Not that long ago, female bodybuilder Carolyn Bryant stated that bodybuilding used to be a "sport for the genetically gifted", but that it has now degenerated into an "activity for the chemically adventurous".  All too true, I'm afraid.

Now, I've never been interested in bodybuilding, per se.  My personal goals in physical culture have simply been:

1.  To cultivate overall health, and avoid especially the things that killed my parents (diabetes, heart disease, & Alzheimer's).

2.  To increase my strength, endurance, & explosiveness, so as to be a better practitioner of fencing, stickfighting, & Brazilian jiu-jitsu.

That's it.

Don't get me wrong--looking lean & fit certainly makes one feel better about one's self, but I've never personally desired to "look like Arnold", or anything like that.  I'm not knocking those who do, but it's just not my gig, personally.  I'm not a big guy, but I sure as hell don't suffer from "small man syndrome", either.  I've seen as much fear and insecurity in the eyes of thick-bodied juicers, as I have in anyone else.  And big meatnecks can get knocked out or choked out, just like any other human being.  No "Adonis complex" bullshit for this 5'7" Italo-Scot-Irish guy. 

And, in the final analysis regarding functional strength training vs. bodybuilding, we would all do well to remember what kettlebell icon Pavel Tsatsouline has said:  any improvement to the physique is a side effect of training, as opposed the overall goal of training.

Back to those chemicals, and their adventurous use.  I've used a few of them over the years myself.  Nothing crazy--just mild legal stuff like tribulus extract, NO boosters, and so on.  Some were better than others, but none were particularly noteworthy.  I've had some talks about this sort of thing with the all-knowing Marcus, my co-worker who is seriously one of the most brilliant people I know.  The guy is going to school for nutrition, and he really knows his shit.  We've both toned-down our supplementation regimens, to the foundational basics of multivitamin/multiminerals, protein powders, etc. 

I just picked up a copy of The Purposeful Primitive, by Marty Gallagher, a noted sports science writer and former powerlifting & Olympic lifting champion.  His old-school approach to training and nutrition is something I've always tried to embrace to some degree, but I've gotten to a point in my life where I want to emulate it further.  Everyone who knows me is well aware of my passion for history and the martial arts, and I've always held the fighting men of the past on a sort of pedastal--I cannot help but admire their courage, strength, determination, and self-discipline.  I look at folks like Leonidas's 300 Spartans defending the pass at Thermopylae, or the Roman legionaries who fought for Julius Caesar during the siege of the Gallic stronghold of Alesia, and I'm consistently amazed by what these warriors were able to accomplish.  Or, look at how Genghis Khan's Mongols were able to reach the Khwarizmian city of Bukhara, by crossing the supposedly "impenetrable" Kizil Kum desert!  These were all hardy people, and modern humans--despite our advances in medicine, hygiene, etc.--typically seem sickly and weak, by comparison.  For inspiration, I'll take Sebastiano Venier over Mike Mentzer, anytime!

Over the past several years I've been transitioning to a more natural diet, as much as my finances allow.  I prefer organic veggies, as well as cage-free eggs and free-range meats.  While I will maintain using certain supplements, they will only be the foundationals, like multivitamins, as well well as naturally-derived supplements, like dessicated beef liver tablets.  Warrior cultures have always prized the fresh livers of various game animals as a source of strength and endurance; the liver tabs are essentially a modern version of that.

Living "clean" is hard in a place like "Dirty Jersey", but I'm doing the best I can.  I want to try to get as close to how the Ancients lived & trained (without giving up things like running water, of course).  So, while all those juiced-up gym rats are struggling with their post-cycle therapy, I'll be keeping things real with the brown rice, steamed broccoli, rare steak, & cold, black iron.

Stay Strong,

David the Black, aka Rob Roy