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It's Caveman Month!
What's "Caveman Month", you ask?
It's that wonderful time of the year where you have our expressed permission to get effing primal on everyone and everything else on the planet; if you weren't already doing so.
Still confused? You got Piltdowns Syndrome or something? Here's a guide:
At a restaurant? ORDER STEAK. No, don't get the goddamn rice pilaf that comes with it, and certainly don't get the cheesecake. That **** will slow your ass down, and do you really want chunks of you being crapped out by a stronger predator?
At the gym? LIFT HEAVY. Put down the 20 lb. dumbbells, Suzie -- we're not going for hypertrophy, or any of that puffy beach muscle nonsense. Stop doing curls in the squat rack and put some plates on the barbell. Now put it on your back. Now put your ass to your ankles. Repeat five or six times. Vomit. Repeat again. Stare down the other gym denizens until one of them lower on the food chain comes and cleans it up for you.
Better yet, screw the gym. Go outside. Grab a giant rock. Pick it up. Throw it at a tree. **** you, tree. Grab your/your neighbor's wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/grandmother. Put him/her/it on your back. Run up a hill. Run back down. Make hot, CroMagnon sexytime with him/her/it.
Kill Something. Preferably something that isn't rooted to the ground, but also isn't capable of filing a police report. Clean it. Cook it. Wear its skin. Find its offspring. Bend them to your will. Teach them to hunt their own kind.
Now take it down a notch. Think to yourself: is this where I want to be in life? Am I an asset to the planet or am I a liability?
Then punch yourself in the dick for thinking like that. This is Caveman Month, ************.