70s Big Attitude

Posted on March 26, 2013 by Cloud

Aaron is a PJ, or pararescue jumper, as well as a general badass. Hes already written a
couple inspiring articles for us (Excuses? No. and Lessons From Lifting). In this one, perhaps
his best yet, he has a call to arms. Are you ready to answer? Ladies and Not-so-Gentlemen,
are you ready for some old-school 70sBig? Cloud
Three years ago I was drawn to this site by the unapologetic, brash braggadocio only a true
miscreant could love. Idolizing forgotten mastodons wearing short shorts and high socks.
Celebrating facial hair and real meals, encouraging real men and women to be real men and
women in a time of androgyny, man-scaping, skinny jeans, Twilight, and other things so
horrible they shall go unmentioned. Like 50 Shades of Grey. Those things are not cool, bro,
and like my personal heroes Michael Douglas, General Patton, Tyler Durden, Vlad the
Impaler, the Techno Viking (that guy took ZERO shits), John W. Creasy, and Walter- this
aggression will not stand, man.

In the movie The Rock, voted the best movie of all time in the history of the world by
NATO and the Illuminati, it was said, sometimes the tree of liberty must be refreshed with
the blood of patriots. Well sometimes the tree of 70sBig must be replenished with
the fuel of attitude, with the liquid reduction of our resolve. In the interest of refocusing ourselves, I charge you to live your life a little more recklessly this next week. Just
for a while, think to yourself, What would Ricky Bruch do? I assure you, that answer is
almost always, Get extra mayonnaise, lift some heavy shit like a damn boss, and proceed to
not give a shit, two monkeys or a damn. Would Ricky pass up an extra conditioning session?
Absolutely not. Would Ricky pass up the 4th steak in 2 meals? Not up in here. Would Ricky
wear long, pleated slacks and watch NASCAR drinking a light beer at a tofu tasting party,
politely discussing HOA fees? I just got a phone call the message was, Ricky Bruchs
estate wants to kill your family for associating his name with that scenario. Its that serious.
But Aaron! I am entrenched in the corporate world; I cant go stomping around like a
heathen, shirtless, scaring the villagers! Also, I dont know any villagers and my shorts are of
an acceptable length for casual Friday. Well, first of all, thats unacceptable. If you say
Casual Friday, you better be ready for aviator shades and some damn boat shoes. If thats
not the case, its time to get your swole back. Its time to remember who we all are, at our
base. Boil us down to brass tacks, twisted steel and ball bearings, and we all realize several
immutable, undeniable, irrefutable facts.
We are human. That makes us all physiologically the same, genetically capable of tasks very
much the same. If you are reading this saying, Well, X person is bigger, stronger, I dont
think thats totally correct STOP IT. Thats half the problem. Whos to say you cant do
anything you want? Me? You? Anyone? What if you just refused to believe impossible things,

and simply did them? That wouldnt make you a superhuman; it would simply mean you
refuse to be limited. Do you really have limits? Do you think thats air your breathing? Thats
a Matrix reference. Keep up.
Slap anyone that uses the term swag, either ironically or seriously, right in the gob. They
know better. Go to YouTube, and look up every video of Leonid Taranenko clean and jerking
266KG, then cook a damn steak and do some mobility. Disagree with someone. Seriously,
get into an argument, and instead of worrying how their feelings will recover, wondering how
youll be viewed, so on and so forth- just disagree. Tell someone they are wrong, and that
you dont agree with what they are saying, and that you wont be wavering. If the term
agree to disagree is uttered, wage total war and destroy the room. The world understands.
That phrase is about 10% of the problem today. So help me Zeus, if anyone around you says
YOLO and you do not immediately beat him or her to death, I will find your house and mail
you a strongly worded letter.
Here is the hard truth- there are no trophies for 5th place, no consolation prize in real life. It
does pay to be a winner, and too often in todays environment it has become acceptable to
trivialize a loss, to rationalize poor effort, to soften heartbreak. Well I am here to call bullshit.
If you work hard, you get rewarded. If you dont work hard, you lose, and you dont get a
prize for that. I dont know when Murica, the home of first place, the inventor of
competition for everything, the bastion of bacon-wrapped-filets and filet-wrapped-baconfilled-deep-fried-chocolate-coated-turducken-sandwiches became OK with second place, but
I am here to tell you it stops now, and it stops with each and every one of us. It starts with
me, and it starts with you.
So this week, get up early. Stop making excuses for yourself, and stop taking excuses from
others. Get to work early. Put out as a friend, spouse, significant other, parent, older sibling,
citizen, WHATEVER. Stop living your life only to keep breathing and start attacking it. Look
for every excuse to get better, and get nasty about it. Are you a lady that wants to get
more toned and look better this summer? Get your lady parts underneath a damn bar
and do something about it right the hell now. The world is, quite frankly, not ready for that
jelly, and I want more ladies bootyliscious when the sun shines bright and hot in 3 months.
Are you a fella that can grow a sweet ass beard, or at least a somewhat child molestor-ish
mustache, yet shave every day? By the light in Kate Uptons eyes, grow that damn facial
hair, and do it while you grill some meat and write out your week of programming. Is there a
charity, a group, or an organization that is worthy of your time that you havent volunteered
for? What are you, some sort of sissy? How about you do the right thing and donate some
time to something bigger than yourself.

Look into her eyes!

If you havent torn up in the gym, so motivated that you wanted to literally explode into a
ball of flame, or flipped a table in public only to be applauded for your gusto, or uppercut a
punkass into a bowl of punch at a high school dance lately well, dammit, now is the time
(editors note, please avoid high school dances, thank you).
Now is the time we take back that attitude, and seize life by the horns/balls/ovaries. The part
you grab isnt important, the fact remains that we must grab that part by force. Its time to
get that 70s Big attitude back. And the time starts now.