Husband. Father. Direct response copywriter. š“ó §ó ¢ó ·ó ¬ó ³ó æ Snapping necks and cashing checks.
Joined January 2023
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So I rejoined the gym this week and itās interesting. Iām 32 now but have been going off and on since I was 16. When I was super young I built a lot of strength fast. 4 plate deadlift at 17 just goofing around, got a pretty good physique. Obviously I let it all slip away then came back for a powerlifting arc in 2017/2018 and hit some decent numbers and got pretty big considering no roids. Anyway today I noticed something obvious. The biggest/best physiques in there are all taking it the most serious. No scrolling phones, training the hardest, doing real work. This is how I started my career in online marketing and it led to me quitting my job pretty quickly and going full time, around 8 months. But then I decided I was going to go all āI work 2 hours a day and donāt have to go to work look how cool I amā but the gym equivelant is like being proud of being small/weak. Like āhey I do a few sets, fuck around on my phone, leave, and Iām proud of thatā what the fuck is that about? Like where does that attitude get you. Not into the top 1% thatās for sure. Obviously since having a kid I have locked in and made probably 2/3 years of progress since February, but all of this to say a real simple pointā¦ it really comes down to just locking the fuck in and doing the hard work for a long time. Itās the exact same for every profession and hobby. Just for some reason online marketing there is an attitude of doing the bare minimum, cruising, and just living cheap in Thailand or some shit. This simple realization has given me the clarity to take things to the never level and enter the 99th percentile in the next 2-3 years. You literally just have to work harder than most people (not hard) for longer than most people (also not hard). And from why experience, the average online marketer takes it way less seriously than the average bodybuilder so there really is no competition.
Outstanding copy. Take notes.
Eat a pound of beef a day, every day for a year, and one animal dies. One bullock, two years out on grass, a bolt to the forehead and gone before the sound reaches him.
Eat a pound of pork a day for a year and 3 pigs die. Most go down a lift into a pit of carbon dioxide. It burns the nose and throat, they fight to climb out, and it takes the best part of a minute to put them under.
Eat a pound of lamb a day for a year and 8 lambs die. Stunned, cut, done inside a second.
Eat a pound of salmon a day for a year and 55 fish die, plus the sardines they were fed. The lucky ones are clubbed. The rest have the gills cut while awake, or are gassed, and fight it for up to nine minutes.
Eat a pound of chicken a day for a year and 75 birds die. Hung upside down by the legs on a moving line, dragged head first through an electrified bath, then the blade. Some arch their necks, miss the water, and meet the blade awake.
Eat a pound of prawns a day for a year and 15,000 die. In the trawl they are crushed and left to asphyxiate on the deck. In the farm, their mother has her eyestalk cut off to make her lay.
Eat a pound of bread a day for a year and nobody can give you a number. Field mice, voles and nesting birds go through the combine in July. In Germany alone the mowers cut around 90,000 roe deer fawns in half every May. Round the grain store the rats take the poison and bleed to death inside for a week.
Eat a pound of rice a day for a year and the paddy is flooded, drained and sprayed, and everything in the water goes with it. Frogs, fish, snakes, the lot. Then the stubble is burned.
The bullock had a number on an ear tag and a man who checked on him every morning.
The field mouse had a combine.
The only animal on the list that was looked in the eye before it died is the one you have been told to feel guilty about.
Go sit in the corner with your soda pop bud, the men are talking
Unpopular opinion; No one - literally not a soul - actually enjoys the taste of beer. Not a single human. Those who claim to enjoy beer, donāt actually. Itās really just a social ritual, a form of self deceptionā¦ the impact of decades of stacked marketing to convince you that beer is anything but an alcohol delivery mechanism. You can enjoy getting sloshed. You can enjoy the social liberation that alcohol offers. You can enjoy the party. But donāt act like you actually like the taste of beer. You donāt. You might think you do. But you donāt. Because it tastes like it looks: bitter dehydrated piss, with bubbles. In the case of Guinness, like diarrhea, with bubbles. And you know it.
