Paul Anderson was certainly an innovator, with his hole-in-the-ground-out-of-which-he-squatted-until-he-was-a-fucking-beast, but his innovation fully pales in comparison to that of Milo of Croton, who one day decided that he liked steak so much, he would carry around an ox calf on his back until it was big enough to be worth eating. So that’s what he did. Every day for four years, he heaved a calf up onto his back and carried it around. Four years later, Milo walked around the stadium with the ox on his shoulders, then killed the thing, roasted up some steaks, and ate them right there in front of the throne of Zeus. I might hate progressive overload more than I hate AIDS, but that’s some tough shit right there, especially given that a newborn calf weighs a around a hundred lbs, and a mature bull weighs between one and four thousand pounds.
Do the math on that. We’ll say, for the sake of argument, that the calf weighed 100 lbs when he threw it on his back, and it weighed 2000 lbs at the end. That means that over the course of four years, it gained 1900 lbs. There are 1460 days in four years, so it gained about 1.3 lbs a day. Not enough to be noticeable, for certain, but it probably started adding up when that fucker got to be 500 lbs. No matter to Milo, though, since he still picked the fucker up and walked around with it on his back as he went about his daily schedule of training, eating, and general ass-whipping.
Milo, who was born in Italy (Magna Graecia), was well known for his feats of prodigious strength and for his voracious appetite, in addition to the fact that the guy was, for all intents and purposes, a living embodiment of Herecles. He was reputed to have been able to burst a band about his brow by simply inflating the veins of his temples and hold a pomegranate without damaging it while challengers tried to pry his fingers from it, in addition to clean and pressing a full-grown bull. If that wasn’t enough, he had a wrestling career that spanned 26 years (536-520 BC), during which time he won 6 Olympic crowns, 7 at the Pythian games, 10 at the Isthmean games, and nine at Nemean games. Even Kurt Angle seems like a pussy by comparison.
Aside from crushing ribcages and lives in wrestling, Milo led Croton warriors against neighboring Sybaris while dressed like Herecles, rocking his Olympic crowns, a lion skin, and carrying a giant fucking club. Outnumbered 3 to 1, the athletes from Croton crushed the Sybarites on the field of battle, led by Milo himself.
I don’t know about you, but I DEFINITELY want to storm the field one day, slaying my enemies while brandishing a large club and wearing nothing but animal skins, with the knowledge that I am unstoppable and nearly invulnerable to any and all human violence. We can all take a page out of Milo’s book, though, and come to the realization that a focused human male is physically and mentally unstoppable, and that we’re as brutal as we fucking want to be.
Worst. Picture. Ever.Go be brutal.
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