The Sacred Tenants of Alternative Fitness / The God-Builder’s Manifesto

admin March 26, 2014 Comments

By: Danny Manslaughter

The perspective bodybuilding and fitness industries are stale, rotting pieces of Ezekiel bread too insatiable to even touch the palate of any person of merit, free-thinking or alternative minded genuinely interesting gal or fella. The same tired and worthless garbage has been printed ad nauseum now for decades. While every other periodical of note has changed or evolved with the times, the fitness world remains stuck forever in the nostalgia of the Weiders. Flipping through any rag with hundreds of pages the reader is bombarded with “KILLER WORKOUTS”, “HARDCORE HMB MUSCLE BUILDERS!” and “QUADZILLA LEG TIPS!”.  This, of course is only after skimming through 348 pages of ‘scientific breakthrough’ advertisements about the anabolic effects of Mexican Wild Yam Extract. Nothing has changed, the bodybuilding industry remains stagnant like a bottle of crashed testosterone suspension, with all the ‘good shit’ settling at the bottom and left in obscurity. Thankfully, a few of us are banding together with the sole premise of torching the motherfucker to the ground. The duck-face selfies, motivational fitness memes and entire gym ‘BRO’ culture is being scorched with no exception and left like Stalingrad in utter fucking rubble. We remain defiant of the hordes of douches invading our intimate space. Alternative Fitness has arrived…MOTHERFUCKERS.

We at all times will abide by the sacred tenants, discovered some time ago when I found a golden plate that the angel of Andreas Munzer gave to me after a brief tenure in Iron Valhalla. Being a strong confidant, I promised the incredibly ripped apparition I would remain true to his sacred testimony and discard the plate; only after transcribing the text. The tenants were transcribed as follows:

I’m not your fucking bro.. BRO! Douches take note—We (the delegates of the alternative fitness movement) are not at the gym to discuss your failures at life, the unpaid electric bill, how you ‘laid it down’ on that cave-troll of a gorgon last Friday night after the Rock N’ Rodeo or the latest Nickelback album. Fuck off, I’m here to get shit done and listen to Madball – ‘Hold It Down’ on my $24 Coby Digital Music player. Yes, it’s a cheap piece of a shit and I will never sell out and buy an Ipod. Long story short—I lost $10,000 fucking dollars to two whores approximately one year ago, because simply put: Addiction is a motherfucker. (Note: Munzer didn’t transcribe this part. I simply included it because I’m being motivational).

Respect your forefathers. I’m talking about Henry Rollins, Glenn Danzig, Doyle, that Stickman dude from Fury of Five and all of the other built motherfuckers who have done cool shit for decades.  There’s plenty of solid pro and amateur bodybuilders too and I give them credit. Remember, there’s never only one path in this. Maybe your goal is to don the glittery thong in the appreciation and adoration of shrieking males at a muscle pageant. Possibly, you only want to be ‘an alligator, momma poppa coming for you’ and flop out your muscular erection on the highest levels of Rock N’ Roll depravity, while displaying gladiator pectorals. It’s ok to read a book, do something different and not relegate yourself to the level of a protein chugging troglodyte.

You’re not ‘hardcore’ because you lift weights. Get out of here with that shit. Charles Bronson (the prisoner.. well I guess the actor too) is hardcore, Timothy Treadwill (RIP) is hardcore for living with Grizzly Bears, Lord Ezec of Skarhead/Crown of Thornz fame is hardcore because he beat the shit out of someone who stabbed him with a screwdriver, and that homeless guy that hangs outside of Walgreens (when you are purchasing 3 boxes of Bronkaid) and quotes obscure passages from the bible is hardcore, and he’s notably fucking crazy. Seriously, don’t fuck with that guy. Lifting weights can be a fun activity, it breaks down muscle tissue; ultimately leading to hypertrophy under the right conditions of nutrition, rest and hormones. That’s not hardcore, and just because you might use shitty form and shriek “LIGHT WEIGHT” while deadlifting 225LBS won’t negate the fact that you have a faux-hawk and listen to Panic at the Disco.

We are militant street-soldiers of the class struggle. No rich, bourgeoisie traitorous motherfucker can ever be a member of the burgeoning alternative fitness movement. I remain jacked for the sole reason of installing fear into the upper-class cuckolds who quote Hannity at the country club. When DM is walking down the avenues and alleyways adorning a Madball ‘For My Fucking Enemies’ T-shirt, it is noticed and I am looked at in hateful scorn, dismay, and disgust. Which is how I like it.. Because simply put—Fuck the herd.

We are the 1%ers of the fitness community. The truly badass,hardline sonsuvbitches who aren’t afraid to admit that we me (or may not) flex for homosexuals on a webcam or seedy motel room. We hustle every day, because anything is better than working at Taco Bell, or ending up in prison, lifting water bags because you got hosed on the archaic anabolic steroid laws. This is the United Snakes of America, buckaroo, and if you don’t play the game, you get sent to the prison industrial complex.

We aren’t stupid. We have other things going on besides the Gymnauseum. We are diverse, intellectual, charming (in the presence of Nubian foxes) and can quote from Das Kapital Vol. 1. We are forever smashing the concept of the fanny-pack wearing meathead. We are God-Builders.

We’d rather go out like Michael Douglas in ‘Falling Down’ than Ian Curtis in Joy Division. Seriously, why kill yourself when you can do some bad-ass shit?

These tenants are constantly evolving and expanding. Remember, I am not the leader but simply the voice-box of this titan, renaissance movement. As Subcomandante Marcos of the EZLN has stated – “Behind our masks we are you”, I proclaim “Behind the ultra-tight slim fit Manslaughter shirt and rippling biceps..I AM YOU

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