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  1. roly is offline

    Registered Member

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    Apr 2005
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    sydney, australia
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    Posted On:
    4/02/2006 6:53am


     Style: judo, karate, jap jj

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    being better than someone doesnt mean they cannot teach you anything
  2. Boyd is offline
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    OFFICIAL Mayor of Cwcville

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    Posted On:
    4/02/2006 1:34pm

    supporting member
     Style: Electricity, Speed

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    No, it doesn't, but what I learn from them isn't going to be how to do a fucking armbar from a first-day BJJ white belt.
    Captain's Log: Just a little update for all my TRUE and HONEST friends out there:

    1) I am STRAIGHT! I am STRAIGHT! Get it through your thick skulls, numbskulls!

    2) My name is not Ian Brandon Something.

    3) Kacey is coming with me now. I have stolen her from the other Christian Weston Chandler.

    REMINDER: I am still the one and only true creator of sonichu and rosechu electric hedgehog pokemon
  3. Boyd is offline
    Boyd's Avatar

    OFFICIAL Mayor of Cwcville

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    Posted On:
    4/02/2006 1:37pm

    supporting member
     Style: Electricity, Speed

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by Boyd
    And now, dear reader, I present to you the question: How do YOU think Aaron thwarted the Judo Viado menace?
    Spoiler:
    I pulled rubber guard into a hybrid duda/omoplata sweep, and wristlocked him after he tried to guillotine me from under side control.
    Captain's Log: Just a little update for all my TRUE and HONEST friends out there:

    1) I am STRAIGHT! I am STRAIGHT! Get it through your thick skulls, numbskulls!

    2) My name is not Ian Brandon Something.

    3) Kacey is coming with me now. I have stolen her from the other Christian Weston Chandler.

    REMINDER: I am still the one and only true creator of sonichu and rosechu electric hedgehog pokemon
  4. Snapp is offline

    Registered Member

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    Mar 2005
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    BC, Canada
    Posts
    158

    Posted On:
    4/03/2006 2:53pm


     Style: Jiu Jitsu

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    I think everyone can relate to this situation one way or another. I have been coached by people with much less experience than myself. Some times they make a good point but mostly I find myself having to explain to them why I am doing it this way and why their way is wrong.

    Just the other day I witnessed some of the worst coaching ever. One of new white belts, maybe 2-3 classes took it upon himself to show a brand new guy all that he knew. Its like the blind leading the blind... onto a highway onramp in the rain.
  5. Cassius is online now
    Cassius's Avatar

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    6,992

    Posted On:
    4/03/2006 3:01pm

    supporting memberforum leader
     Style: Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    I think for a lot of people, coaching someone as they're beating your ass can be a way to save face. After you tool them, they can tell others tha they were just giving you an opportunity to practice.
    "No. Listen to me because I know what I'm talking about here." -- Hannibal
  6. Boyd is offline
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    OFFICIAL Mayor of Cwcville

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    Posted On:
    4/03/2006 8:52pm

    supporting member
     Style: Electricity, Speed

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    After catching someone trying to teach a white belt to do the "elbows in the thighs" guard pass, I was overcome with pity and took the white belt aside to explain a much more technically sound pass. I spent about half an hour addressing various minutia of the pass, let him drill it several times, explained its advantages and disadvantages, and finally said "This isn't the best pass, it isn't the worst. But it's a solid pass and if you just work on what I showed you today, I guarantee you'll have an effective tool in your arsenal." And he nodded, thanked me several times, said he'd try it out next time we rolled.

    So logically the very next day I caught him teaching the elbow in the thighs guard pass to another white belt. Never again. Never a fucking gain.
    Captain's Log: Just a little update for all my TRUE and HONEST friends out there:

    1) I am STRAIGHT! I am STRAIGHT! Get it through your thick skulls, numbskulls!

    2) My name is not Ian Brandon Something.

    3) Kacey is coming with me now. I have stolen her from the other Christian Weston Chandler.

    REMINDER: I am still the one and only true creator of sonichu and rosechu electric hedgehog pokemon
  7. Aesopian is offline

    Light Heavyweight

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    4,501

    Posted On:
    4/03/2006 8:57pm

    Business Class Supporting Member
     Aesopian.com 

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    It's only a matter of time before we all succumb to the Yrkooon Method and not bother learning white belts' names until they're blue belts.
  8. Boyd is offline
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    OFFICIAL Mayor of Cwcville

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    Posted On:
    4/03/2006 9:45pm

    supporting member
     Style: Electricity, Speed

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    I think my weirdest white belt experience had to be training Philippe. He was this skinny Brazilian kid who was friends with a blue belt that moved to England like, six months prior to this story. What made him want to spontaneously start BJJ remains a mystery for the ages.

    The class was small and uneventful, even by Friday standards. We drilled techniques, I rolled with a couple people, Philippe being the last. Since it was his very first class I made it a point to go light on him, show him things, typical first-day white belt protocol. Now, understand that right away things are a bit odd; Philippe had no formal intro class, had not been introduced by the instructor, was generally unacknowledged by anyone but me. I wasn't expecting a tickertape parade for HOORAY FOR BJJ WHITE BELTS! WELCOME TO THE FOLD BROTHER NOW HOLD STILL WHILE WE CUT YOU or anything, but usually there's some degree of extra attention given. Not today, though.

    Everyone else has to leave early, so I spend about half an hour after class showing Philippe some bare basics. As we get up to leave things rapidly get weird:

    Philippe: "Hey, could you give me a ride?"
    Me: "What?"
    Philippe: "I just got home, from the military, and I don't have a car. Just this once. I promise I won't rape you."

    (he didn't actually make this promise. I don't know if I would've felt better or worse if he had)

    After making him promise not to rape me, I agreed to give him a ride home. The ride itself was even more awkward than the conversation preceeding it, due in no small part to Philippe's relentless pimping of his family business. I guess they ran an insurance company (by themselves? Philippe talked about it like a family-run general store) that held one magical edge over all the major health-care providers: they paid out no matter what. That's right. You can sign up as a suicidal AIDS patient and blow your brains out after a week-long heroin bender and be entitled to the same benefits the Pope would receive if you spontaneously assassinated him during said binge. This, he explained to me, was why his family's company was the number two health care provider in America and hey I've got a magazine with an article on us right here you wanna read it?

    What am I going to say? He hands me the magazine in a stilted, overly-obvious fashion, like he half expected us to go to the Inventory screen to tell me YOU GOT BORING TRADE JOURNAL.

    We pull up to his house, and Philippe lobs me a softball:

    Philippe: So, you doing anything after this.
    Me: No, not really. Probably just going home to get some sleep.

    I thought by saying this I had precluded him from trying to ask me out on another date, but his seemingly lax jab concealed a powerful overhand right.

    Philippe: So you wanna come in for a minute?

    ****. I walked right into that. Knowing full well the house was probably adeath trap, a hell shack where Pyramid Head and Leatherface play strip poker with the Black Dahlia killer and his close personal friend Bill O'Reilly. Philippe was probably the guy they based the movie Hostel on. It was so painfully clear, my tortured face popping up as a rectangular jpeg on the hastily set-up Geocities site for R U READY 4 THE ULTIMATE THRILL??? 15 AMR 10 RUS 7 EUR while a midi of Dangerzone thunders on in the background. I was meandering into Buffalo Bill's basement, knowing the dangers yet still venturing on, simply in the name of not wanting to appear rude to the deranged venture capitalist/serial torturer.

    In retrospect, I should've ran. I should've let my tires squeal and leave nasty skidmarks on the driveway. I wouldn't escape, he'd have booby traps, trip wires, commandos hiding in the foliage waiting to ambush me, blow out my tires with sniper rifles. It's too late for me, but maybe my skid marks will lead the cops to his house. Well thank you sir, sorry for bothering you with all these questions, just asking arou....say, these skid marks couldn't possibly be made by an SUV! I will be the body in the crawlspace that led to John Wayne Gacy's capture. I can only hope my tragic and grisly fate will in some way lead to these bastards being brought to justice, shamed before the nation, being lead through an arduous and year-long trial, oh yes, it'll be a circus, and they'll be up there on the stand, finally breaking down Oh yes, I posed as a martial artist, yes yes I posed as anything, any time, anywhere, I...I...I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO AM I ANYMORE and he'll cry, because he will realize just as he utters his carefully scripted line just how true it is. And he will weep for the life he never had.

    So I went into his house and he poured some orange juice into his mouth but did not swallow. Instead, he whistled through his teeth to call his bird, a smallish tropical parrot.

    Parrot: "Hello!"

    The parrot then craned its neck under Philippe, who opened his mouth slightly and drooled his orange juice into the parrot's mouth.

    Well. Enough of that.

    I excused myself, said I had to get going and it's nice meeting you but I'm really hungry and I'd just like to get some food in me ha ha, you know how it isokaybye. And with that, I made a bee line to my car. On the way out, Philippe asked where he could get a BJJ class schedule.I told him, and he said he'd be by on Monday. I bade him good day and got the hell out of there.

    I never saw Philippe after that day.

    Philippe left a magazine and his gi behind in my car. I figured that even if he was a normal one-day flake, he'd at least want his gi back, seeing as how he paid like 60 dollars for it so he could at least foster the delusion of training for a couple more week before officially quitting. Once I became absolutely certain Philippe would not be returning, I told the story I just told you to the instructor.

    "That's odd....I don't remember any Philippe ever showing up to class."

    I asked the conditioning instructor that taught class after BJJ.

    "Aaron....there hasn't been a Philippe around here since...ever."

    And so it went. No one knew of any Philippe, though they are certain he had to have attended classes and legitimately signed up someone, since he was on the attendance log and his gi clearly came from our school. That didn't stop them from having a good laugh at my expense over this apparition that only I could see.
    Captain's Log: Just a little update for all my TRUE and HONEST friends out there:

    1) I am STRAIGHT! I am STRAIGHT! Get it through your thick skulls, numbskulls!

    2) My name is not Ian Brandon Something.

    3) Kacey is coming with me now. I have stolen her from the other Christian Weston Chandler.

    REMINDER: I am still the one and only true creator of sonichu and rosechu electric hedgehog pokemon
  9. Boyd is offline
    Boyd's Avatar

    OFFICIAL Mayor of Cwcville

    Join Date
    Sep 2002
    Location
    Cwcville
    Posts
    5,374

    Posted On:
    4/03/2006 9:46pm

    supporting member
     Style: Electricity, Speed

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    AFTERWORD: The author is well aware of the somewhat rampant tense-changes in this story. The author is also well aware that it ends abruptly and is too long for such an ambiguous punchline. In the author's defense, however, **** you.
    Captain's Log: Just a little update for all my TRUE and HONEST friends out there:

    1) I am STRAIGHT! I am STRAIGHT! Get it through your thick skulls, numbskulls!

    2) My name is not Ian Brandon Something.

    3) Kacey is coming with me now. I have stolen her from the other Christian Weston Chandler.

    REMINDER: I am still the one and only true creator of sonichu and rosechu electric hedgehog pokemon
  10. CanucKyokushin is offline

    He'll flip ya!

    Join Date
    Mar 2005
    Location
    ?????????
    Posts
    2,736

    Posted On:
    4/03/2006 10:08pm

    supporting member
     Style: Not.....working

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by Boyd
    I think my weirdest white belt experience had to be training Philippe. He was this skinny Brazilian kid who was friends with a blue belt that moved to England like, six months prior to this story. What made him want to spontaneously start BJJ remains a mystery for the ages.

    The class was small and uneventful, even by Friday standards. We drilled techniques, I rolled with a couple people, Philippe being the last. Since it was his very first class I made it a point to go light on him, show him things, typical first-day white belt protocol. Now, understand that right away things are a bit odd; Philippe had no formal intro class, had not been introduced by the instructor, was generally unacknowledged by anyone but me. I wasn't expecting a tickertape parade for HOORAY FOR BJJ WHITE BELTS! WELCOME TO THE FOLD BROTHER NOW HOLD STILL WHILE WE CUT YOU or anything, but usually there's some degree of extra attention given. Not today, though.

    Everyone else has to leave early, so I spend about half an hour after class showing Philippe some bare basics. As we get up to leave things rapidly get weird:

    Philippe: "Hey, could you give me a ride?"
    Me: "What?"
    Philippe: "I just got home, from the military, and I don't have a car. Just this once. I promise I won't rape you."

    (he didn't actually make this promise. I don't know if I would've felt better or worse if he had)

    After making him promise not to rape me, I agreed to give him a ride home. The ride itself was even more awkward than the conversation preceeding it, due in no small part to Philippe's relentless pimping of his family business. I guess they ran an insurance company (by themselves? Philippe talked about it like a family-run general store) that held one magical edge over all the major health-care providers: they paid out no matter what. That's right. You can sign up as a suicidal AIDS patient and blow your brains out after a week-long heroin bender and be entitled to the same benefits the Pope would receive if you spontaneously assassinated him during said binge. This, he explained to me, was why his family's company was the number two health care provider in America and hey I've got a magazine with an article on us right here you wanna read it?

    What am I going to say? He hands me the magazine in a stilted, overly-obvious fashion, like he half expected us to go to the Inventory screen to tell me YOU GOT BORING TRADE JOURNAL.

    We pull up to his house, and Philippe lobs me a softball:

    Philippe: So, you doing anything after this.
    Me: No, not really. Probably just going home to get some sleep.

    I thought by saying this I had precluded him from trying to ask me out on another date, but his seemingly lax jab concealed a powerful overhand right.

    Philippe: So you wanna come in for a minute?

    ****. I walked right into that. Knowing full well the house was probably adeath trap, a hell shack where Pyramid Head and Leatherface play strip poker with the Black Dahlia killer and his close personal friend Bill O'Reilly. Philippe was probably the guy they based the movie Hostel on. It was so painfully clear, my tortured face popping up as a rectangular jpeg on the hastily set-up Geocities site for R U READY 4 THE ULTIMATE THRILL??? 15 AMR 10 RUS 7 EUR while a midi of Dangerzone thunders on in the background. I was meandering into Buffalo Bill's basement, knowing the dangers yet still venturing on, simply in the name of not wanting to appear rude to the deranged venture capitalist/serial torturer.

    In retrospect, I should've ran. I should've let my tires squeal and leave nasty skidmarks on the driveway. I wouldn't escape, he'd have booby traps, trip wires, commandos hiding in the foliage waiting to ambush me, blow out my tires with sniper rifles. It's too late for me, but maybe my skid marks will lead the cops to his house. Well thank you sir, sorry for bothering you with all these questions, just asking arou....say, these skid marks couldn't possibly be made by an SUV! I will be the body in the crawlspace that led to John Wayne Gacy's capture. I can only hope my tragic and grisly fate will in some way lead to these bastards being brought to justice, shamed before the nation, being lead through an arduous and year-long trial, oh yes, it'll be a circus, and they'll be up there on the stand, finally breaking down Oh yes, I posed as a martial artist, yes yes I posed as anything, any time, anywhere, I...I...I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO AM I ANYMORE and he'll cry, because he will realize just as he utters his carefully scripted line just how true it is. And he will weep for the life he never had.

    So I went into his house and he poured some orange juice into his mouth but did not swallow. Instead, he whistled through his teeth to call his bird, a smallish tropical parrot.

    Parrot: "Hello!"

    The parrot then craned its neck under Philippe, who opened his mouth slightly and drooled his orange juice into the parrot's mouth.

    Well. Enough of that.

    I excused myself, said I had to get going and it's nice meeting you but I'm really hungry and I'd just like to get some food in me ha ha, you know how it isokaybye. And with that, I made a bee line to my car. On the way out, Philippe asked where he could get a BJJ class schedule.I told him, and he said he'd be by on Monday. I bade him good day and got the hell out of there.

    I never saw Philippe after that day.

    Philippe left a magazine and his gi behind in my car. I figured that even if he was a normal one-day flake, he'd at least want his gi back, seeing as how he paid like 60 dollars for it so he could at least foster the delusion of training for a couple more week before officially quitting. Once I became absolutely certain Philippe would not be returning, I told the story I just told you to the instructor.

    "That's odd....I don't remember any Philippe ever showing up to class."

    I asked the conditioning instructor that taught class after BJJ.

    "Aaron....there hasn't been a Philippe around here since...ever."

    And so it went. No one knew of any Philippe, though they are certain he had to have attended classes and legitimately signed up someone, since he was on the attendance log and his gi clearly came from our school. That didn't stop them from having a good laugh at my expense over this apparition that only I could see.
    Wha......?!?You kept us in suspense to tell us about your first date with a man.
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