The following is a compendium of C&P approved equipment, and that which should be treated like the Nazis treated the town of Lidice in WW2.
Approved:
Heavy Duty Power Racks of any manufacturer. Doesn’t matter who makes it, so long as it’s not finished in chrome, and it’s heavy duty. Not one of those horseshit racks you see in Bally’s that starts teetering the second you have 315 on the bar. Fuck Bally’s.
Platforms and bumper plates. The following looks like heaven on Earth.
Bodymaster Squat Machine. I know, seems like it should never make the cut, but this thing is fucking awesome. It saved my ass while I was in a cast, I loved the fact that I could change the focus based on my foot position, and I could do shrugs on it as well. Additionally, one can perform Viking Presses on it. Thus, C&P approved.
Resistance Bands. Good for tons of shit.
Dumbells (non-chrome- everyone knows chrome sucks). Not my favorite, but they’re good for working shit unilaterally, which is good on occasion. Just don’t expect to use them constantly and then have any kind of useful transfer to barbell- it’s not gonna fucking happen.
Plates without handles. Plates with handles annoy me with all of their convenience. I want the opportunity to drop one on my foot. Call me old school. And preferably, non-matching plates. people who spazz about having their plates match are pussies, probably impotent, and possibly Canadian.
Donkey Calf Raise Machines and standing calf raise machines. Frankly, I only do donkeys, since I refuse to load my spine with a shitload of weight to move it two inches. Fuck that.
What Needs to Be Wiped Out of Existence:
Cable Crossovers. If you like them, fuck you and the horse you rode in on. You’re fucking retarded, and your family probably thinks you’re the biggest retard to hit the planet since Life goes On went off the air.
Hercules Curls. How the fuck is it possible that people even do these? More worthless than the Jonas Brothers’ penises.
The Leg Press. Shitty for your knees. Not squatting. Essentially, for pussies. No one cares how much you can leg press. One leg press cannot be compared with another, ever. So fuck you and your thousand pound leg press- Lee Priest’s 92 year old grandpa did them regularly.
The Leg Extension. Really? How much do you hate your knees, on a scale of 1 to 10? A ten? Then fuck it, have at those sons of bitches, since all you’re doing on the leg extension, aside from looking like the biggest pussy since Britney forgot to wear her thong, is fraying your acl. Good job fuckface.
Seated Calf Raise. Pointless. You show me someone who can isolate his soleus, and I’ll show you either a liar, or a guy with calves so good he needn’t do any calf work. Plus, after squatting three times in a week, it fucking hurts my thighs too much to bother with them.
Dumbbell Flyes. One, it should be “flies”, not “flyes”, so it’s retarded from jump- what is this, Ye Olde England? It bloody well better not be, because the English might have the least palatable food since the Indians. Fuck Tandoori. Next, it is the destroyer of shoulders, and a waste of time, since you should be doing weighted dips or close grip bp anyway.
When in doubt squat.
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