You can just train spears in the park and everyone will love it.
The mothers will bring their children to watch and have a picnic. The bros will suddenly integrate martial arts into their calisthenics. Broccoli-bonnetted high-schoolers will cheer your strikes with their peculiar moaning noises.
If those kids ever find out that my sons are their classmates, my sons would never forgive me. I keep it on the dl but there have been close calls. Last month, I was distance-running on Marcel Williams’ torso when my 16-year-old walked by with his whole class. He affected not to notice but I could see he was cracking.
We never spoke of it. As a parent, I’ve often felt that my example speaks louder than any words I might say.
The basic strategy in hand-to-hand combat is to master your opponent’s music. If you come at me with that oompah shit, I am going to piece you apart immediately, as tweekers occasionally FAFO at Gobliki Tepe.
Whereas to defeat me, you would have to groove with all my tunes: the sovietwave, the chamber music, all of it. And what do people hear when I play today’s song for them? Unintelligible gibberish.
For all practical purposes, then, I remain invincible.
#spearcraft