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Twenty Ten, a Very Good Year


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The last thing we want is to be so at odds with life that we wish time away. Nevertheless, since it is all but done and gone, goodbye, 2009, and good riddance. Don’t forget your hat and don’t slam the door and don’t look back and don’t come back.

Cranky, today... must be something I ate... or didn’t eat.

I like the sound and appearance of 2010, the sync, the click and the boldness of the numbers. That’s good enough for today, but by mid-January I expect to see progress: huge and ripped, or bigger, faster and stronger, or just plain alive, kicking and pain-free... the latter providing a fighting chance for the former... and the future.

We all have a story to tell. The details are different, but the theme is the same: muscle, strength and health. Career, family and fortune will have to wait. I should go to the gym today, but it’s out the door and down the road and into the wilds of lions, tigers and bears and mankind. Maybe, I’ll just stay home in front of the warm, crackling fireplace and count my blessings. There’s plenty of time for a workout tomorrow.

Excuse me! That is not the attitude of a bomber. And it’s certainly not the way to wrap up the old year and swing into the new. How you end a thing often determines how you begin the thing that follows. I see two more workouts in the remaining days of  ’09, short, sweet and hopeful. Today is Saturday, the 26th.

Brrroomm, zoom... huff, puff, thud, clink, oomph...

Now its Monday, the 28th. Time flys when you’re a B-67 Bomber and out of control. Saturday’s workout was short, slightly bitter, but sufficient, which, you will anonymously agree, is better than no workout at all. And, perhaps unanimously agree, as well. I sprinkled the legs with salt and pepper -- aka, extensions and curls -- and added a dash of paprika -- leg presses, to those of you on a diet -- for all the seasoning I can ingest these days when chomping on the legs. Squats give me indigestion of the lower back and knees if I stuff myself silly.

Furthermore, stuffing oneself silly allows no room for dessert, a tantalizing slice of all-natural and piping-hot biceps, triceps and forearms laced with crunches and leg raises. Thumbs-up curls are delicious when accented with your favorite pulley pushdowns and topped with a twist of wrist curls. Yummy and filling, four trisets and I’m as pleased as rust on a pile of iron.

Get your fingers out of the bowl, kids.

What’s with the food-prep and eating metaphors, Draper? I must be hungry or in need of fantastic musclebuilding nutrients like a Bomber Blend Anti-Terrorist Blast-Off; 4 scoops of BB, 12 ounces of reduced-fat milk, a couple of righteous raw eggs, half a banana, a hefty tbsp of peanut butter and some ice in the blender and I’m ready for war or peace.

Wednesday’s romp amid the rusty pile of metal will cover all areas, regions and territories, muscle groups and body parts north, south, east and west of the sunny latisimus dorsi and its surrounding serratus. It’s the eve of New Year’s Eve, after all. The last blast of a fraught-filled year unloads the bones and provides thought-filled cheer. I shall be generous, gracious and grateful.

It works. Try it. Double-your-money-back guarantee... you’ll see...

Love thy neighbor and his dog... See ya on the other side... DD

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Did you know Bomber Blend will provide the least expensive and most nutritious meals in your daily eating regimen? It’s not an added extravagance to your food budget; it reduces your budget and improves your nutritional intake. It builds lean, strong and shapely muscle. Regular servings of Bomber Blend raise your IQ and enable you to time travel. Made into a poultice and smeared on the scalp will prevent baldness and kill tics. Good stuff.

Scoop the blend into a glass, stir and drink with pleasure and satisfaction, when you need to, want to or should. All the time.

Soak yourself in a taste of bodybuilding’s Golden Era with Dick Tyler’s on-the-scene record, written in his easy-going, one-of-a-kind style, West Coast Bodybuilding Scene.

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