Tell me why I don’t like Mondays…
(Or Bob Geldof, for that matter.)
Well, seeing as it is Monday, we might as well start off with people who probably had a worse weekend than you did.
In this case, that would be… the French.
Yes, the French. The butt of almost every joke in existence about being weak, spineless, treacherous, lazy, unjustifiably arrogant, and utterly useless.
Let it be remembered, however, that France was once the greatest of all nations. They were the top dog, the big cheese, the Alpha among alphas. Give them their due; the modern world would not exist without the French.
Then again, if you look around at the flaming pile of shite that is the modern world (and, speaking of flaming piles, that describes a lot of Paris these days too), you might be justified in asking why we pay attention to the Frogs about anything.
That said, always keep in mind that somewhere, deep down beneath the absurd pom-poms and ridiculous sweater of the French poodle, lurks the same ferocious heart of its wolf ancestors.
With that in mind, let’s get started with the Frog-bashing, as PJW tells you what you actually need to know about the giles jaunes in France:
When it comes to France, as you no doubt gathered from the above, I am with James May most of the time: “They are a bunch of treacherous, lamb-burning, work-shy peasants“.
But I will readily admit that the Frogs do have a certain elan when it comes to making their voices heard. I disagree with a lot of what those voices say, since much of it amounts to “MUH FREE SHIT!!!” – yet they do a much better job of sticking two fingers up at The Man than… well, the English, for instance, who came up with the concept.
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Speaking of sticking two fingers up at the French, do you know where that gesture supposedly came from?
English longbow archers.
The way that I’ve heard this legend told, archers were considered cowards and utterly dishonourable by infantrymen and cavalry since, well, pretty much forever. Why? Because foot-soldiers and horse-riders would expose themselves directly to the horror and glory of combat at close range, while archers would pick off enemies at long range, largely unseen and unreachable by the mud-feet and bow-legs.
For this reason, captured archers were often mutilated or even executed outright.
And, in the Middle Ages and Renaissance periods, nobody did archery quite so well, from quite such a distance, as English longbowmen.
The English longbows were fearsome weapons. They were between 5 and 6 feet long (!!!) and fired arrows 3 feet in length. The impacts from those arrows were absolutely devastating; the “draw weight” of the typical English longbow is a matter of some dispute, but it is generally agreed that the classic English or Welsh longbow required 440-820N of force to draw and fire an arrow.
To put that into perspective, imagine holding a boy weighing about 90lbs in your arms. That amounts to roughly 400N.
Now imagine holding a barbell with weight plates on it at either end, for a total of 185lbs, at the very top of a deadlift. That’s very roughly 820N.
That is A LOT of force, no matter how you think of it. And the power of the English longbow was such that an arrow fired from one at a range of about 250m could smack into armour with a force of about 490N.
Imagine being hit square in the chest by the full mass of two 45lb weight plates, concentrated into a single small point, and you’ve got a rough idea of what that feels like.
The longbows were devastating against the chain mail and heavy plate armour of the 15th Century (though as armour technology advanced in the 16th, the longbow became less effective and was eventually rendered obsolete by gunpowder). Even if longbow arrows could not penetrate the chest-plates of knights, they could penetrate the less heavy armour on the limbs. Unarmoured or lightly clad horses and lightly armoured infantry faced the horrible prospect of being “porcupined” by dozens of arrows falling in a lethal iron-tipped rain while advancing toward the enemy.
So whenever English archers were captured – as the legend goes – they would stick their index and middle fingers up in the “backwards V” that we know of today as a near-universal symbol of peace and brotherly love (read: UP YOURS!!!).
Their irate captors would then hack off their index fingers, to stop them from ever drawing a bow again. The archers would then stick their middle fingers up in that magnanimous gesture of welcome and acceptance (read: F*** YOU!!!).
This legend is almost certainly false and is not supported by historical accounts – not least because it took three fingers to draw the English longbow, not two. But it’s a fun anecdote nonetheless.
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Related – the Battle of Agincourt, from Kenneth Branagh’s Henry V, which still stands out in my mind as one of the very best adaptations of a Shakespeare play ever, nearly 20 years after I first saw it in school:
Every time you hear a Frog brag about how great his country is, just say the word, “Agincourt”, and see his reaction.
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#BasedTucker:
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Ukrainian realtalk for the really stupid women who decide to pull the pin on the divorce grenade and blow up their marriages:
That would be pretty much ALL women who decide to blow up their marriages, for reasons other than spousal abuse, infidelity, or outright fraud. There is a reason why Christ stated quite plainly that the only reason for a man or a woman to divorce a spouse is infidelity.
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Tip of the week: remember how our beloved and dreaded Supreme Dark Lord (PBUH) referred to Brazilian jiu jitsu in an oblique, and hilarious, fashion as a “cuddle puddle”?
Well, in his Darkstream from a couple of days ago, His Voxness mentioned that it’s not a good idea to Google “cuddle puddle”.
He was right. Again.
What does “cuddle puddle” actually mean? Well, here is one of the more palatable definitions:
A group of people cuddling en masse, usually to comfort each other or express mutual friendship. Sometimes associated with raves and use of the drug Ecstasy; however, G-rated cuddle puddles can form in other situations.
Honestly, seriously, don’t go search for it. You’ll find plenty of pictures of groups of fluffy kittens taking naps – but if you turn Safe Search off, you alone are responsible for the horrors that you see. Just sayin’.
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Why The Big Bang Theory absolutely blows:
I’m about as big a sci-fi nerd as you’ll find outside of a Star Trek convention or Comic-Con. And I think that the show is desperately unfunny most of the time.
Then again – I’m also not a blue-pill beta who believes in the basic premise of the show, that the nerd will eventually get the hot girl because reasons. I may have a lot of red-pilling of myself to do yet, but I find the show pretty much unwatchable these days.
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Oh, I say, what a cheeky blighter, eh, what? Rather un-sporting, don’t you know!
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Pics from Power Line and other places:
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Dog of the week – the Vizsla:
These are probably the some of the best-looking dogs around, right up there with golden retrievers and dalmatians. They were originally bred as hunting dogs, and apparently make great companions and loyal friends.
Oh – one word to anyone who reads my blog: if you don’t like dogs, well, you and I will just have to agree to disagree. In general, men who dislike dogs have trouble with loyalty and are difficult to trust.
There are exceptions to this rule. A longtime reader of mine is a cat person, a fellow deep introvert, a badass guitarist, and an author. He has been a loyal friend and supporter for nearly the entire existence of this blog. He still emails me from time to time with music clips and suggestions. (It is entirely my fault that I do not respond in a timely fashion.)
But it is a useful and more or less accurate general heuristic.
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Coach Ramsey Dewey and his buddy discuss the, uh, “virtues” (*snort* *snicker*) of CrossShit:
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Related – I thought that CrossShit was supposed to teach people how to be the fittest, most functionally complete athletes in the world?
Yeah. They’re just not. CrossShit is useless at teaching you real coordinated movements and techniques for fighting. It isn’t even that good at teaching you how to lift.
DON’T DO CROSSSHIT. The end.
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Gym fails time (sorry boys):
Seriously, when I come to power, I am going to make half-squatting and half-repping punishable by an immediate Tasering of the genitals. That shit needs to STOP.
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To help get rid of that nonsense from your mind, here are some legendary gym beasts deadlifting over 1,000lbs:
If that doesn’t give you every last bit of motivation needed to get into the gym today and LIFT HEAVY SHIT, then you need to turn in your man card RIGHT NOW.
(Though I will readily admit that Chris Duffin’s 2.5-rep deadlift of 1,002lbs right at the end was suspect, to say the least.)
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You want bullshido? I got your bullshido right here!
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And now here’s your bullshido beatdown of the week, courtesy of the terrifying tower of pure muscle that is Alain “Black Panther” Ngalani:
Holy shit. That guy might just be the black version of Chuck Norris.
“When Alain Ngalani crosses the street, he doesn’t look both ways – he just spinning roundhouse kicks any car stupid enough to get near him.”
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Here’s a simple warning to everyone – DO NOT PISS OFF BUAKAW BANCHAMEK:
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See also:
Buakaw was – and still is – a true beast of a fighter.
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#Metalizer
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Starting Instathot of the week is a Brazilian model by the name of Cindy Mello:
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