The Wild Physique
Matilda Equiluz
The Wild Physique is the best of Vince Gironda's work. Vince "Iron Guru" has been training bodybuilders and celebrities since the 1940s from his gym in Studio City CA since the 1940s till the mid-90s. The Wild Physique tells the stories of Vince working with the famous bodybuilders and celebrities like Larry Scott, Don Howorth, Carl Weathers, Clint Eastwood and more. You will also find the outline to his 8x8 workout plan and his various diet plans like the Steak and Eggs diet and the 36 eggs a day diet.
The one and only Vince Gironda - the "Iron Guru" - world-renowned trainer of the greatest physique stars for over 50 years - presents the most revolutionary and innovative diets and muscle exercise techniques ever published.
Please Do Not Share This.. I've written my review of the Physical Book and sent it to you in some form. I know the content is main consideration of review. However, I have not cracked a page to read. I've skimmed through it and was very bummed about not having Picture on Cover. Pictures inside the book are a foggy mess. I have been waiting to pull the trigger on purchasing this book. I am old skool,,, and wanted the old skool book, Just disappointed it can't go with all old skool books I have. Will read and it soon, and love it I'm sure. But,,, for $60 clams,, I was expecting better quality. I still will get your Beef Liver Tabs, [ Love Them ] and Creatine, and maybe other Supplements. Top Notch. Peace and Vince Was The Best.
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What I have done in this book is to take the original matter rather as atheme for a new story. My reason for doing this was that the material,when I took it up again with a view to republishing, seemed to me todeserve the hand of a better artist than I was when I made those fewhasty notes of very early travel.
The first story of the series, The Soldier of Humour, appeared in itsoriginal form in The Little Review (an american publication) of1917-[Pg vi]18. In it the showman, Ker-Orr, is, we are to suppose, at a laterstage of his comic technique than in the accounts of his adventures inBrittany. Beau Sjour is the first hotel at which he stops. (This,except for the note at the end, is a new story.) Inferior Religions,which also was first printed in The Little Review during the war, andthe notes attached to it, which are new material, will serve as acommentary on the system of feeling developed in these tales, and as anexplanation, if that is needed, of the title I have chosen for thecollection, The Wild Body.
I am a large blond clown, ever so vaguely reminiscent (in person) ofWilliam Blake, and some great american boxer whose name I forget. I havelarge strong teeth which I gnash and flash when I laugh. But usually alook of settled and aggressive navet rests on my face. I know muchmore [Pg 4]about myself than people generally do. For instance I am awarethat I am a barbarian. By rights I should be paddling about in acoracle. My body is large, white and savage. But all the fierceness hasbecome transformed into laughter. It still looks like a visi-gothicfighting-machine, but it is in reality a laughing machine. As I haveremarked, when I laugh I gnash my teeth, which is another brutalsurvival and a thing laughter has taken over from war. Everywhere whereformerly I would fly at throats, I now howl with laughter. That is me.
My father is a family doctor on the Clyde. The Ker-Orrs have beendoctors usually. I have not [Pg 5]seen him for some time: my mother, who isseparated from him, lives with a noted hungarian physician. She gives memoney that she gets from the physician, and it is she that I recognizeas my principal parent. It is owing to this conjunction of circumstancesthat I am able to move about so much, and to feed the beast of humourthat is within me with such a variety of dishes.
It must be from my mother that I get the Lust zu fabulieren. Iexperience no embarrassment in following the promptings of my finephysique. My sense of humour in its mature phase has arisen in this veryacute consciousness of what is me. In playing that off against anotherhostile me, that does not like the smell of mine, probably finds mylarge teeth, height and so forth abominable, I am in a sense working offmy alarm at myself. So I move on a more primitive level than most men, Iexpose my essential me quite coolly, and all men shy a little. Thisforked, strange-scented, blond-skinned gut-bag, with its two brightrolling marbles with which it sees, bull's-eyes full of mockery andmadness, is my stalking-horse. I hang somewhere in its midst operatingit with detachment.
[Pg 6]I snatch this great body out of their reach when they grow dangerouslyenraged at the sight of it, and laugh at them. And what I would insistupon is that at the bottom of the chemistry of my sense of humour issome philosopher's stone. A primitive unity is there, to which, with mylaughter, I am appealing. Freud explains everything by sex: I explaineverything by laughter. So in these accounts of my adventures there isno sex interest at all: only over and over again what is perhaps thenatural enemy of sex: so I must apologize. 'Sex' makes me yawn my headoff; but my eye sparkles at once if I catch sight of some stylisticanomaly that will provide me with a new pattern for my grotesquerealism. The sex-specialist or the sex-snob hates what I like, and callshis occupation the only real one. No compromise, I fear, is possiblebetween him and me, and people will continue to call 'real' whatinterests them most. I boldly pit my major interest against thesex-appeal, which will restrict me to a masculine audience, but I shallnot complain whatever happens.
I am quite sure that many of the soldiers and adventurers of the MiddleAges were really Soldiers of Humour, unrecognized and unclassified. Iknow that many a duel has been fought in this solemn cause. A man ofthis temper and category will, perhaps, carefully cherish a wide circleof accessible enemies, that his sword may not rust. [Pg 7]Any other quarrelmay be patched up. But what can be described as a quarrel of humourdivides men for ever. That is my english creed.
I could fill pages with descriptions of myself and my ways. But suchabstractions from the life lived are apt to be misleading, because mostmen do not easily detach the principle from the living thing in thatmanner, and so when handed the abstraction alone do not know what to dowith it, or they apply it wrongly. I exist with an equal ease in theabstract world of principle and in the concrete world of fact. As I canexpress myself equally well in either, I will stick to the latter here,as then I am more likely to be understood. So I will show you myself inaction, manoeuvring in the heart of the reality. But before proceeding,this qualification of the above account of myself is necessary: owing toprotracted foreign travel at an early age, following my mother's changeof husbands, I have known french very well since boyhood. Most otherWestern languages I am fairly familiar with. This has a considerablebearing on the reception accorded to me by the general run of people inthe countries where these scenes are laid.
It might have been a friend, but as it happened it was the mostimplacable enemy I have ever had that Providence provided me with, asher agent and representative for this journey. The comedy I took part inwas a spanish one, then, at once piquant and elemental. But a Frenchmanfilled the principal rle. When I add that this Frenchman was convincedthe greater part of the time that he [Pg 9]was taking part in a tragedy, andwas perpetually on the point of transplanting my adventure bodily intothat other category, and that although his actions drew their vehemencefrom the virgin source of a racial hatred, yet it was not as a Frenchmanor a Spaniard that he acted, then you will conceive what extremelycomplex and unmanageable forces were about to be set in motion for myedification.
What I have said about my barbarism and my laughter is a key to themilitant figure chosen at the head of this account. In thosemodifications of the primitive such another extravagant warrior as DonQuixote is produced, existing in a vortex of strenuous and burlesqueencounters. Mystical and humorous, astonished at everything at bottom(the settled navet I have noted) he inclines to worship and deride, topursue like a riotous moth the comic and unconscious luminary hediscovers; to make war on it and to cherish it like a lover, at once.
A half-dozen stoves with sinks, each managed by a separate crew of grim,oily workers, formed a semi-circle. Hands were as cheap, and every bitas dirty, as dirt; you felt that the lowest scullery-maid could afford aservant to do the roughest of her work, and that girl in turn another.The abundance of cheap beings was of the same meridional order as thewine and food. Instead of buy[Pg 11]ing a wheelbarrow, would not you attach aman to your business; instead of hiring a removing van, engage a gang ofcarriers? In every way that man could replace the implement that herewould be done. An air of leisurely but continual activity pervaded thisprecinct. Cooking on the grand scale was going forward. Later on Ilearnt that this was a preparation for the market on the following day.But to enter at eleven in the evening this large and apparently emptybuilding, as far as customers went, and find a methodically busypopulation in its midst, cooking a nameless feast, was impressive. Abroad staircase was the only avenue in this building to the sleepingapartments; a shining cut-glass door beneath it seemed the direction Iought to take when I should have made up my mind to advance. This door,the stairs, the bread given you at the table d'hte, all had the sameunsubstantial pretentiously new appearance.
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