I don't think it's much of a secret at this point, but I'm a man that likes his strength and conditioning done Viking-style. Just, you know, curling 35-foot tree trunks for fun and eating 12-gauge shotguns for breakfast and dead lifting Volkswagens just because and competitions that involve chain-whipping and taking MET-Rx in quantities that may or may not kill a hippopotamus and human survival games that involve killing a hippopotamus with your bare hands in the wild while only wearing a bandana and camo paint. Pretty standard strength and conditioning for your average sociopath, right?
With that in mind, this may be my favorite thing ever:
American Gladiator competition in Kasten today. #Toddknows twitter.com/MUcoachAmplo/s…— MUcoachAmplo (@MUcoachAmplo) November 12, 2012
LAST PLAYER TO NOT DIE WHILE BEATING THE LIFE OUT OF EVERYBODY ELSE WINS!
Now, there's all kinds of important things about this that deserve some words:
- Over to the left, the guy in the white jersey against the guy in the yellow jersey: What the hell game is this, other than punch-a-guy-before-he-approaches-a-trash-can? It's intense, though, which is the most important thing. Purpose, obviously, is subordinated to intensity and BAM! YOUR FACE!
- On the right, the cat in the yellow jersey: Did he just karate kick that trash can? "You will not score -- is the purpose to score? -- a thing in this trash can! Also, here's a knife to your neck, jerk!" [plays 'Battle Hymn of the Republic']
- Alright, let's just address it: What the hell is happening in the middle of the image? Group hugging isn't being a gladiator, I don't think. So that's out (probably). Are they tearing the clothes off of some poor sap as the spoils of gladiating? Probably/definitely. You don't go into a gladiator fight without all your gladiating gladiator friends. That's a great way to get gladiating crushed, and you can't be a gladiator if you no longer exist.